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yoondoze · 4 years ago

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coin toss | jjk

you and jeongguk go way back, even before you were the menacing duo many knew you to be, even before he brought you into the mafia and left you there to join the city’s detective agency. a call for cooperation comes out of a common enemy, requiring the two of you to reconcile for one last mission.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

word count: 25.4k

genre: soft and hard angst, mafia/detective agency au, complicated exes (?)

warnings: language, violence, blood, character death, sexual implications, little bit of gore, jimin has a weird hatred of yoongi idk don’t take it seriously, mentions of torture, grief, too many italics

a/n: long time no see everyone, hope you’re doing well! this story was inspired by my favorite anime, bungou stray dogs (it’s got a soukoku type beat & you’ll recognize some structures). it’s my first back in a while, and it’s also the longest piece i’ve written, so i hope you all enjoy it! <3

To be called to the Boss’s office for a quick word is almost always a sealed exit ticket from this world. One, because regular meetings of necessity are always held in the boardroom and discussed amongst the executives. Two, one on one meetings mean no witnesses. You’ve been there once before and barely made it out alive. To make it out a second time? The chances are practically nonexistent.

The room feels less like an office and more like an 18th-century study, a dark academia dream with the coffee-toned furniture and ceiling-high shelves stacked with books. The only sign of modernity is the pristine silver laptop sitting perfectly on his desk. The guards to the side of the room look straight ahead, no indication of how this will end for you.

“My dear, good to see you,” The Boss purrs, eyelids falling into tender crescents as you place yourself gently on the cushion of his ornate bergère. Typically there are two of a kind that sit across from his dark oak bureau, but at this moment one has been removed from the space so yours could be positioned parallel to his own chair.

The Boss has an intimidating air about him. From the gentle yet feline-like movements that look like they mask something sinister, to his signature verbosity that’s almost professorial, he’s the perfect paradigm of a godfather.

“And you, Boss. It’s been a while.” You maintain a cool tone, not breaking his eye contact. He was a dog that could smell fear and would drag it out of you if he thought it could sate his twisted desire for control.

He sighs as his cheshire smile fades. “I don’t like beating around the bush, as I’m sure you know. You... must have heard the rumors of a third party organization stepping foot in this city, yes?”

The whispers started only days ago, and the most you heard was only an assumption from another underling at the bar. Considering how much people loved to gossip and how boring it got around here, you were just going to brush it off. However, if it was enough to bring you here, it had to be something worth your attention.

“Yes, it’s been floating around.” You clear your throat. “Is it something to be worried about?”

He puts his elbows on the table and clasps his hands together, sucking a breath through his teeth. “This has happened before, when a new group tries to disrupt our hold on the functioning of our territory, and we have always squashed them from the picture quietly. But unfortunately, those who call themselves the Syndicate play dirty.”

It seems as if things were not heading in the track you imagined when being escorted on the long walk here. But then he orders the guards at the sides of the room out, and your heart jumps to your throat.

As the large doors close behind them, he resumes talking.

“Last week, twenty-two of our men were killed and one taken during a weapons exchange with a western group...who we thought were a western group. All they left behind was a handful of playing cards.” His wrist flicks up suddenly, a black card tucked between his two fingers. The shine on the back glints under the dim lamplight. He stares in disdain.

The nervous habit of jumbling your fingers started up in your lap, asking, “Who was it?”

“Underlings of the Syndicate,” he brushes past, holding up a single finger before continuing, “The key is that the missing one was a trusted man in our central intelligence unit. He was carrying knowledge of our expansion plans within the next year. When backup came, he was gone. Intelligence then reported that the Syndicate was also responsible for the crisis of our allies in the Midwest, Fox Lodge, two years ago. And a year before, the Federacy in Europe. They crumbled in a matter of weeks.”

The man sweeps his dark hair from his forehead, an undetectable motive flaring in his eyes, the one person you could never read.

“Simply,” he shrugs, “this fish is too big to fry on our own.”

You couldn’t help but swallow. “And that means…?”

“I’ve spoken to the director of the Detective Agency. A temporary ceasefire has been agreed upon... Similar interests, a common enemy, you see.”

Existed an extensive list of things that did not have the capacity to surprise you anymore in this life. But a ceasefire? That was impossible; The Detective Agency and the Mafia had always been at odds like a fated grudge of the gods above. The fighting had been continuous for all your time spent in the organization.

“I know,” he nods, “It is a miraculous thought. But they have the resources and we have the manpower. While it would be great to let Syndicate take them out for us, we would ultimately be next on their list. Cooperation is our best bet.”

And the thought of what this conversation may be coming to strikes you like lightning on waiting sand. “I thought you didn’t approve of betting, Boss.”

“Hmm… I see you’ve caught on,” he says pensively, a smile rising on his face as fast as it disappears. “This gamble is one I have much faith in. It used to be our ace in the hole, you remember?”

Weakly, you mumble, “I do.”

“You must realize that our situation is grave. I would not suggest it if there was another way. In the kindest manner I can put it, dear, your willing partnership is required.”

And there’s the kicker, the whole reason why. A sick feeling seethes in the pit of your stomach, makes you want to gag or throw up or pass out. You have a choice, of course, but not a real choice. To clarify, it was agree, or be squashed out quietly, as Boss liked to say. On the off chance you would choose death over discomfort, he had to call you to his office for safe measure.

“I understand, Boss,” is all you could manage.

“I’m glad,” he smiles. “Though we have all turned a bit sour since Jeon’s departure, I’m sure you are capable of uniting for the sake of our city. I wouldn’t mind if you killed him after the mission is complete, either, but I will leave that up to your judgment.”

The name is awkward coming off his tongue, even with the chuckle he throws in to lighten the mood, implying an air of distance and estrangement.

Jeon. That bastard. The thought of working with him… incredible. It was silly of you to think that you’d never see him again while fighting for control of the same city, but there you were, awestruck and in embarrassing shock. “Thank you, Boss. I’ll do what is needed.”

“Get some rest. I’ll be calling a meeting tomorrow with the other executives and we will talk about the plan. You are excused.”

With an obedient nod, you are lifting yourself from the chair and heading toward the door, the sound of your heels muted on his burgundy carpet.

“Oh, and dear?”

You pause, turning your head over your shoulder and clearing your throat. “Yes?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he traces his thumb along the blade of his knife, glinting in the dim glow of the moonlit window. “You know I trust you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Without a falter in his expression, he makes a swift movement with his wrist. Before you can blink, the blade flies past your ear and lodges itself in the door in front of you. “Don’t make me regret it.”

A threat not to be taken lightly.

“Of course.”

As you tread down the hallway on your way out, you can't help but chastise yourself. How dumb could you be? Of course he would try to intimidate you like that. Any other day, you could have sensed it and caught it before it even parted with his palm. That was how it was supposed to be, as the renowned Scorpion, right? Was the thought of Jeon and having to see him again so debilitating that you let your guard flounder like that? Pathetic.

Hopefully he’d only take it as a slip-up. Take it as a respectful allowance and understanding as opposed to weakness. If you were losing your skills, your value was lost, as was your privilege to live.

The ride back to your apartment is the worst you had in years. Even the radio station you listen to regularly for mind-numbing background noise has you wanting to burst. The traffic lights make you want to scream, the sound of the air pushing past the open window has you bubbling with fury, the blinking advertisements circulating building perimeters driving your mind blank. Somewhere in a moment of clarity, you know it all starts with fear.

Truth was, you and Jeon were partners once. In crime, the trump card the Mafia put down to play dirty, no way to get around you. In tandem, a menacing duo, the bold and the lethal, the Lion and the Scorpion. In the sheets, from time to time, after a few too many drinks or a few too many flirty looks on a sober night. Two sides of the same coin. But that was then, in a different time and a different world, and in a way that you hated how your mind had retained him so perfectly in his bitter absence.

☆☆☆

To be honest, the atmosphere of the first meeting really couldn’t have been any better than expected. It’s the furthest thing from civil, of course, but it can be considered a blessing that everyone participating was still breathing.

For protective purposes, office space had been rented out for a few hours for the intents of the meeting. There were only eight of you gathered in the small space; From the Mafia, the four top executives and from the Agency, the VP and three head advisors. One of them, none other than Jeon himself. The president and the boss stayed out for this meeting in an attempt to lower the tension, which was certainly an effort taken. Personal affairs mixing in would have resulted in at least one dead body within the first thirty seconds.

While there is some sort of discussion occurring around you, you are only focusing on how pathetic you feel in that you’re actively avoiding Jeon, as well as the discomfort in the pit of your stomach that appeared as soon as he did. You always thought that you’d be strong and bold the next time you met, but now that the time has come, you’ve let yourself down. Seeing him face to face after all this time is a reminder of everything you’ve been pushing to the back of your mind for years.

Meanwhile, Jeongguk isn’t sure what the playing field looks like just yet. He’s resting his head on his fist, sneaking a glance at you when he can and wishing you’d speak up so he’d have a good reason to look at you for longer than a blink, but you’re awfully quiet. He hates to think it might be because of him.

“We received an anonymous tip this morning about an underground base in the Coral District. Supposedly, there are multiple entrances from bars in the surrounding area, creating a tunnel system.” Namjoon, the VP, pushes his glasses up and closes the manila folder in his hands he had been referencing. “As our only lead, I think it is in our best interest to take a look.”

Namjoon is by far the most uptight man you had ever met. A little pretentious, of course, but in a way that almost made him cute. His calculative nature made him a good asset, but you couldn’t imagine how much of a bore he must have been in his daily life. You could bet without a doubt that he had been the most opposed to collaboration - if not by the countless moments he had spent sighing in your past encounters, then surely by how his condescending tone went into overdrive the second he sat down.

Yoongi, one of your fellow executives, states plainly, “That means nothing.” He seems more focused in the dirt tucked beneath his fingernails than the meeting at hand.

“It’s anonymous. For all we know they’re trying to trick us,” adds Yeji, personality plagued with suspicion. She doesn’t want to be here as much as you do, but she’s trying. Yeji is scrutinizing and not impressed by the image of naivety that stems from such a simple deduction, and that’s on top of her personal problem with the righteous narrative of the detective agency. You don’t blame her.

“And for all we know, it could be useful. The people of this city are our eyes and ears.” Jimin shoots back, stare unwavering. “It’s not like we should just ignore it. Do you have anything better?”

The strain in the air is almost unbearable, pulling up the hairs on your arms with all the tense energy circulating. It’s as if lightning was about to strike any second. No one says another word, only dirty looks being exchanged between headstrong personalities until a defiant knock comes to the door, startling the aggression into temporary submission. Taehyung raises an eyebrow at you, the only movement he had made this entire time. You only shrug at him.

“Who is it?” Namjoon asks, standing from the table.

“Just clean up. I’m here to take out the trash.” Silence engulfs the space like a dense fog hanging in the air, until the man behind the door calls again, “It’ll only be a second.”

Hesitantly, Namjoon makes the call for him to come in. All eyes flick over to the man, who cautiously enters the room with a nervous laugh. He is clueless to what he’s walking into. He waves a hand of greeting before fetching the bin from the corner of the room, taking it to the main dump on wheels in the hallway. After a few shuffles and plunks, he comes back in to put it in its place.

Namjoon adjusts his tie and clears his throat as he sits down again, resuming the meeting.

“I don’t care what we do as long as we can be done with this,” Taehyung mumbles, resting his head on his palm with half-mast eyes. He’s practically falling asleep, like a cat resting in the sunbeams pouring through a window.

Wendy, another advisor, rolls her eyes at him, responding with a scoff, “Of course you don’t care…”

“Oh, like you’re such a saint.”

The boardroom erupts into yet another argument, different groups spitting words at their own personal targets. All you can do is sit and listen, your hope for this mission decreasing exponentially as the seconds tick by. At least if it didn’t work out, you won’t have to see Jeon again after this.

“Creep,” mutters Yeji under her breath from the chair next to you. She had been removing herself from the argument like you save for a few special dramatic sighs and trivial insults that you didn’t condone, but didn’t exactly scold her for either. After all, she is the closest thing you have to a best friend.

“Huh?” you inquire wisely. “Who?”

She tilts her head to the hallway. Your head whips around to see the janitor through the walls of windows walking away with a peculiar bounce in his step, one he most certainly did not arrive with.

“What’s his problem?” you whisper, leaning in.

“I don’t know, but he was laughing to himself while they were arguing. He’s probably just another weirdo,” she snubs with a sigh. “You know how people are in this city.”

Though you had a slight feeling of discomfort from the commencement of the meeting, since stepping foot in the lobby of the building even, you simply brushed it off as paranoia, or nervousness from who you were about to see. But it just seems too strange to ignore anymore. Wasn’t the building supposed to be completely empty today, aside from those in the conference taking place right now? Your instincts scream at you through a closed mouth, wariness freezing your limbs, but why?

You hold your hand up discreetly as you stare at the simply dark grey bin across the room. It’s the only thing that seemed out of place - besides the meeting table and chairs, the room is completely empty. The pristine board room, black and grey and sparkling clean. And then, the cheap plastic bin.

The argument settles when Yeji whistles, getting their attention.

“What’s wrong?” Wendy asks obliviously before you shush her with a raise of your pointer. All focus zeroes in on the bin… and that barely noticeable line trailing from it to the door handle.

One tick is all you need to hear.

“We gotta go, now,” you state, standing up hurriedly from your chair. Chatter and confusion ensue again as you drag it behind you over to the floor-length window. You pause, narrowing your eyes at the distance down from the second story. Considering there were no other exits from the room and you suspected that no one here was a part of the bomb squad, it was the only way to go. You drawback, hands gripping tightly around the armrests and hoist it up, swinging it around your side. it effectively shatters the glass, the piercing noise as shards clatter to the floor making you squint.

“Woah, woah, what are you doing? Do you know how much that’s gonna coast?” Namjoon shouts, becoming frantic as you further knock the glass out from the surrounding area.

“They knew where we were. Look at the bin,” you explain quickly. Their surveillance of you averts to where you had been looking moments before, realization dawning as their sight finds the transparent cord set tight.

“Taehyung, you first.” The boy trails to the make-shift exit without question, blond locks bouncing in front of his face as he hurries over. Carefully, with a hand on the frame, he peers out to see what he’s working with. He’s made do with worse before. He lowers himself out onto the ledge one foot at a time, cautious not to cut himself on the jagged glass poking out. With a deep breath, he commits to the jump and launches off, landing cleanly on the flower beds below.

He cranes his neck up to you with disgust written all over his features.

“It’s new still,” he complains with a frown, toeing the dark mulch which must be fresh and with a rotten stench. You don’t have the time to admonish his behavior as you usher the others out, keeping an eye on the bin and the hallway. Yeji is out next, hitting the ground lightly with Taehyung’s guiding arms.

You fish a compact walkie from your pocket, tossing it down to her. “Find the janitor. Evacuate anyone else you see. Channel Six.” She catches it with ease, only providing a nod before sprinting off around the corner, ponytail whooshing behind her. Namjoon, now on the ground with Jimin, spares a word with him before Jimin takes off after Yeji to catch up.

“You run a well-oiled machine, Y/N. I’m impressed.” Jeon’s voice from beside you grabs your attention, to which you can only hold his eyes for a moment before breaking it off. He stands smugly with his arms crossed in front of him.

He immediately cringes internally at the way it comes out. It was just supposed to be a compliment, genuinely, but the tinge of complacency in his voice took it all away. The way you don’t respond clamps his heart, but only pushes out more awful dialogue with an inappropriately playful tone.

“What, you’re just gonna ignore me?

Swallowing your nerves, you insist, “Get down.” Now, of all times, he chooses to chat you up? The chipper attitude had your nails imprinting half-moons to the base of your palm.

But he can’t stop himself. Even as he reads your growing impatience, he acts like a whiny toddler, emphasizing, “No, no, ladies first of course.”

“Get down.”

He’s trying not to let your firm edge get to him, playing it off with, “God, so cold. You’re hurting my feelings-” “Get down, Jeongguk!”

The once fluid movement of the world slows as you shout at him, your own voice becoming muted as you listen for it. A blinding light bursts from across the room, ripping through the walls and bursting the glass like balloons, growing brighter and brighter as you watch. In a split second you’re falling, tearing through open air while barely sensing your entanglement in something soft before hitting the ground with a blunt stop.

He had pulled you into him instinctively as the blow forced him off his feet, but the regret is instant in Jeon’s mind as he struggles to move. Not for grabbing you, but for the stupid words he couldn’t close the dam on as they poured out. The threat completely left his mind in the effort to get you to respond to him. He wants to smack himself, but his body hasn’t had the chance to recoup yet.

You groan, body practically frozen in ache. Rolling off of him, you rub your lids and scratch the hair out of your face, looking up to see smoke pouring out of where you just stood moments before. Jumping to your feet, you brush the small shards of glass from your clothes and ignore the dizziness, aiming to put as much distance between the building and you as you could, but not before pulling a disoriented Jeon to his feet to take him with you. He’s coughing and clutching at his rib, your weight hitting him as an extra beating once he had landed.

Collapsing on the curb out front, you try to catch your breath. That bastard. If it weren’t for his necessity to uphold such a jackass mentality, you wouldn’t have needed the extra painful push out of the building. Without even needing to look, the sound echoing alone let you know that the building was collapsing in on itself. While you can’t feel it now because of the adrenaline, you know you’ll be hurting later.

A muffled noise comes from the walkie in your back pocket. It’s Yeji, who is suspiciously breathing fine as her heavy footfalls transmit as loud as her voice, reporting, “Finally caught up to him. It looks like he’s heading to Coral District, we’re on his tail but we don’t know what we’re going into!”

The device jumbles in your shaky hand as you scramble to get back to her. “We’re on our way, don’t worry. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

You bring yourself to your feet, your fleeting moment of recovery already gone.

“Namjoon, can you stay behind for cleanup? Rest of us will catch up to Yeji. You heard her, right?”

He nods solemnly, and you suppose the blast to the building also was one to his ego. His notorious calculative nature had failed him this time around with that poisonous hatred in the way. Maybe he’ll reference it next time.

You think that Jeon is going to come up with another snarky comment to make, but all he does is pinch his nose bridge and massage his temples. He chooses to stay behind also as you, Wendy, Taehyung, and Yoongi follow in quick pursuit. It’s no surprise that Yoongi, one of the most sloth-like yet efficient strong suits of the Mafia, is already pulling over a civilian vehicle to take.

“Yeji, current location?” You ask into the radio, trying to keep up an acceptable trot behind the group.

It only takes a second for her voice to crackle back through. “Corner of Park Ave and Third. It’s weird though - he’s not just running away from us, he’s running to somewhere.”

Up ahead, Wendy is pushing Yoongi aside as she shows her ID to the astonished woman floundering for words, admirably commandeering the car rather than stealing. No surprise, but smart nonetheless. One less lawsuit to worry about.

It only takes a second to envision a mental map of the city. The Corner of Park and Third is heading toward an unfamiliar side of town. What was even over there? The subway station, a shopping center? No place plausible for a bar, and definitely not near the Coral district. There was no place you could think of he might be leading them to - unless, of course, he was leading them away from something.

In fact, his direction is almost exactly opposite from…

“Tae!” you shout, just as he’s getting into the car. “Corner of Park Ave and Third. Get on your walkie, I’m taking a detour!”

He tips his head back in understanding as he jogs backwards to the car, soon ducking in slamming the door shut behind him, the car speeding off with a squeal. The thought of being in that car with them makes you shudder, but it’s not like where you’re off to is any better.

The location is printed on the backs of your lids in vermilion red ink. You had to know it regardless of whether you were a frequent visitor or not, because being aware of your surroundings when doing the kind of work required for your job was just as necessary as the job itself. You couldn’t be making arms deals in the alleys behind the Detective Agency unless you were aiming to spend some time behind bars.

Your heart drops as you round the corner to see the building absolutely sacked, your sprinting pace coming to a standstill with disappointment. A small crowd of people have surrounded the area, phones out to snap pictures and take videos. The windows lining the building are smashed in violently, and small plumes of smoke wisp their way out of what remains, the alarms that alerted no one still ringing.

Light footsteps approach from behind you as your own step carefully over the glass to get a closer look. He’d been in his head for only a few minutes after you left, but when he saw you crossing back over to the other side of town, while he was stuck pathetically on the curb, it sparked his brain back up into working condition.

“Huh. Smart cookie,” states Jeon, seeming to finally be back to reality. Enough to make it here, anyway. In less than a second your blade is against his neck as a firm warning. All he does is smile cheekily, raising his palms up so you could see them.

“No need to be hostile,” he tries, hiding the way he gulps when you look away. “Just a compliment.”

“We are nothing more than work partners. I advise you to drop the act now,” you spit, sure you’d break your jaw with how hard your teeth were pressed against each other, hearing the sandpaper sound grinding in your ears. You lower the blade and tuck it away, exchanging it for your gun in hand as you approach the entrance.

It’s a mess inside. The walls are dented, desks broken, drawers and filing cabinets sprawled all over the floor. Random papers make a muddle of everything visible. The computer screens are cracked and wires mangled as if someone with a bad temper had taken a baseball bat to them. Even the potted plants had been bashed in, fragments of terracotta and clumps of dirt spread out everywhere.

“Was anyone working?” you ask, fingers tracing over the splintered edges of the welcome desk.

“No,” replies Jeon, in awe of the state of the office. “The President doesn’t come in, and two of our teams are off carrying out other tasks. We sent our office staff home to keep them out of danger.”

Not one thing untouched. Such great care was taken to ruin every piece of the space - but when no one was home. If the office staff were here, would they have hurt them? Or was it a purposeful decision in favor of the empty building?

Jeon’s shoulders slump, bottom lip jutting from his pout. Upon your questioning brow, he says, “They took my octopus pen.” He stares longingly down at what you assume is his desk, or what was his desk.

You squint in confusion, about to prompt further explanation, but Taehyung comes in through the radio. “We caught the janitor. Don’t know anything yet, but he’s being taken into police custody. We looked for the tunnels, but there’s nothing so far. I think it was a misdirect.”

“I think it was too,” you sigh. “The DA was ransacked.”

The waves flatten into grey static. You can picture the confusion that was rising among the group with Tae’s relay of information. When it comes back on, it is a different voice.

“Ransacked, you said? How bad?” It’s Wendy, the panic blatant on her tongue.

“Everything in it was destroyed…” you say, knowing this was just as much a loss for you as it was them. “They knew where we were and bombed us, and then led us on a chase so they could eliminate one of our bases. Let the others know and we’ll regroup later.”

“Copy that,” says Yoongi shortly, and that ends the exchange.

One of your strongest pieces was impressively knocked off the board. There was no way to get the building back in operating shape in the time span you had to eliminate the threat. While you still had their people and outside resources, the building was essential to the functioning of the agency, and the city along with it. If they had already taken down the home base of the detectives, wouldn’t the Mafia be next? Granted, there was no one set base, but things would surely get fishy if you didn’t act fast. Like Boss said, Fox Lodge crumbled in mere weeks. Whatever your opinion was, you couldn’t deny the Mafia was integral in monitoring the underground of the city, and letting control fall into the hands of such self-serving villains would be far worse than anything already occurring.

Jeon sighs loudly from across the room, spinning on his heels to catch your gaze. He tsks and sweeps a stray strand of hair behind his ear with a delicate hand. “What are you thinking?”

You hum in thought. “It’s a warning,” you conclude, observing the rows of overthrown furniture. “They wanted to show what they’re capable of. Intimidation.”

He purses his lips innocently. “...What next?”

“I don’t know everything, Gguk,” you snap, sending him a fierce glare. “The Agency has to figure out what’s missing, if anything, and then we’ll go from there. Try to figure out a motive or something.”

You’ve been asking for a challenge for years, always unsatisfied with the ease it took to get your way. Laying in bed wide awake all night wanting things to be different, wanting things to have meaning. But with the high stakes, with so much at risk, this was certainly not what you intended.

You have to reassure yourself that you’re capable regardless. Once you get in the rhythm, surely things will be fine. Surely you’d get yourself together and pull through for the sake of the town. When you’ve been biting your nails and staring blankly at a ripped magazine for who knows how long, Jeon interrupts you again.

“Y/N?” The way he speaks your name is gentle and soft, a fondness to it that never failed to pluck at your heartstrings. It’s that special quiet tone of his that you haven’t heard in so long yet could always recall so clearly. It’s a sign of candor coming your way. “It’s good to see you.”

And it boils your blood.

“The park by the marina. Tomorrow at five. Don’t be late.”

☆☆☆

Penny has already started making dinner when you step through the door, just about to slump against the hardwood floor and resign yourself to the eternal slumber. Though she’s only ten, her palate is more tasteful that yours was last year. In times like these, you are grateful for the way she takes care of you sometimes.

“You look tired,” she observes, sparing you a welcome look over her shoulder as she stirs the contents of her pot.

“That would be because I am,” you breathe a huff of laughter, slowly and carefully sliding off your jacket as to not irritate your sore muscles more than necessary. Taking a peek into the pot, your brain allows you a taste of serotonin that you welcome with open, starved arms. “Fettuccine alfredo? Pen, that’s my favorite.”

A small smirk appears on her face at your amazement. “I know.”

You plant a chaste kiss at the top of her head. “You need a trim soon, kiddo. Can barely see your eyes anymore.”

“That makes me look more mysterious though, doesn’t it?” She allows herself a giggle before turning off the heat, giving the pasta one last mix before transferring it to the two identical bowls on the counter. Her technique is a little awkward as her arms reach up to maneuver the tongs, but that’s to be expected of a kid who hasn’t fine tuned her motor skills just yet. Your mouth is absolutely watering as you fumble through the draws for two forks and some sort of napkin.

She hops up on the stool next to you and digs in, splattering sauce all over her chin nonetheless, but as long as she was fed and having fun.

Taking Penny in was by far the best decision you had made with what your life had come to. It was about two years ago when you stumbled upon her crying in a back alleyway during a job, her parents' lives the casualties suffered in a drug trade gone wrong. Further than that, you didn’t pry. You had those moments, too, the ones that felt better tucked inside a secret place in your heart.

Your only option was to take her with you. While he was incredibly beneficial to the Mafia, Yoongi was also hopelessly cold-blooded. He wanted to kill her to end the trail, to avoid suspicion directed at the organization. You ultimately made the call, because while what you did for a living was in no way guided by a moral compass, you still had your boundaries. Fortunately, it was just when you had gotten your current executive position and started making your fair share for the work you did - and while the both of you knew what went on outside of the apartment, inside was a safer space with more love than you could ever afford to show anywhere else.

Housing people was one of the organization’s biggest costs. Most who joined did so out of necessity, whether they were out of work or a place to feel welcome. As long as you took care of her, it was an unspoken rule that they’d go easy on her. Occasionally they made her run errands and do deliveries, as children were an easy way to escape qualms from authorities. More often they used her for bait and leverage over those they needed the upper hand on; There’s no better way to manipulate someone than pretending a little girl’s life depends on their next decision. Usually it worked out the way they wanted and she was sent home, but there were times when you noticed bruises or scrapes adorning her thin arms, or hidden beneath her bangs. At least you could provide her with hope.

“So what went wrong today?”

Were you too obvious, or could she just read you inside and out?

You twirl the pasta on your fork before downing a big bite.

“Got stuck in a pickle for the first time in a while. There’s a lot more on the table than I expected there to be.”

“Obviously,” she says, still shoveling her food down her throat. “I mean what happened?”

You sigh, letting yourself sink into your chair as you recount the order of events that unfolded today. Trying to simplify it as best as you can, you settle on, “I can’t say too much because I don’t want to get you in trouble, but it’s not just the Mafia and the Agency running things around here anymore, so there’s some collaboration going on right now that is getting tough to manage. And these new people moving in on the city… they’re smart. They led us on a goose chase today while they took out the DA.”

“Well, you’re smart too. You can manage it. You always do.”

“I know I’ll have to. It’s more the teamwork thing.” Mindless fingers tap at the countertop. “It was a little bit of a curveball they threw at me.”

“Is the curveball what caused all the bruises?” She looks at you slyly, a teasing simper just begging to make an appearance.

Your eyes roll breezily. “Yeah, it is.”

And all of a sudden the air turns quiet, her demeanor more timid. She looks to you for encouragement before she can even get the words out. With a small prompting nod, she asks, “Is… is it your old partner?”

An awkward chuckle bubbles its way out of your throat in surprise. “Um, yeah. How- how do you know about that?”

It’s a little bit of a shock. You don’t want to make her feel bad, but having this conversation is not one you are completely prepared for. Jeongguk, though his existence in your mind is stormy, is one of those things you always wish you could just keep to yourself, like a small love letter sealed in an envelope and tucked away under a mattress for you to pull out when you want to reminisce, but unfortunately everyone has read that letter and its contents seems to perpetuate underground gossip wherever you walk.

The atmosphere returns to normal when she shoots you a playful look, correcting it to the way it should have been. “I don’t just go to work and come back, you know, people talk to me. Especially some of the other kids my age. They sometimes mention how it’s so cool that I’m living with this legendary assassin, and they tell me supposed stories of… what was it, the Lion and the Scorpion? Yeah, and that he left.”

You bob your head along as she explains, somewhat in awe of her level of awareness of who you were outside of your relationship with her. The observant and lethal disposition you take on at work is a rude juxtaposition to the looser, lively personality you allow out at home. Above all, you wonder if she still thinks you’re cool.

“And what do you say?”

That she laughs at. “Well, it depends on the person who’s talking to me about it. Sometimes I say that you’re really scary and strict and sometimes if I like them I say that you’re really nice… I’m careful about it though, don’t worry. As long as you’re cool, I’m cool.”

Bingo!

“Hey, I trust your judgment,” you state through a mouthful of food, “I condone messing with people sometimes, and if it can harden my reputation around the place, I’ll take it.”

Lighthearted laughter ensues as you eat. The topic fades away and relief starts to take its place, but nothing good can ever last, can it?

“But Y/N…” she trails back, “Why is the Lion a curveball if you worked with him in the past?”

You click your tongue, tapping your fork at the bottom of your dish trying to stitch together the splinters of words floating around your mind into a cohesive answer.

“I’m sure some kids told you about the rumors,” you say, propping your elbow on the table to support your head as you looked at her. “But he and I… weren’t really just work partners.”

“You were dating?” She exclaims loudly, eyes widening.

“Shh! No, no… well, kind of. But not really. Things were just a little bit more than work-related, that’s all. Listen, it’s not all black and white, and you’ll understand what I mean by when you start to care for people like that.”

“Well did you love him?”

She says it casually and straightforward, as if it didn’t weigh the emotional turmoil of years spent heartbroken and yearning. As if it’s that easy.

Penny’s expression floods full of curiosity. She is so investigative and eager, you wish she could be going to school and learning from real teachers that could give her a real education, not just snippets from your memories that you pulled up for her from time to time. If this wasn’t her life, you can’t imagine what she’d be doing because there’d simply be too many possibilities.

“Yeah, I did.”

And yet, as the words spill, you can’t not remember the pain of his desertion. You can’t not remember the one morning you woke up and he was gone, panic floating through the hallways about him, confusion and worry swirling in your head. Just to find out he had defected without giving you a clue. Not considering what it could mean for you. Not even a goodbye.

“Do you still love him?”

You purse your lips, meeting her eyes softly. “That’s why I called him a curveball.”

Penny grasps on to the fact that that was the most she’d be getting from you today. It was a lot more than most days - you blame it on your tattered spirit from today’s tiring occurrences. She leads in the kitchen clean up, scooping the leftovers into tupperware for tomorrow’s meal and tossing her dishes in the outdated washer.

You pass behind her in the tight space, carrying your own empty dish with you. “You don’t repeat a word, got it?” you whisper.

She visibly sinks in vexation, head coming to a tilt as she stares at you. “C’mon, you just said you trusted my judgment! I’m almost insulted you feel the need to say that.”

You let yourself indulge in another laugh. The credit of her sharp vocabulary character no doubt belongs to your influence. “You know I have to.” Nuzzling the top of her hair, you add, “Don’t stay up too late. I love you.”

And for leading a life that was so cruel and devoid of light, crowded with guilt and regret, lacking most that makes you human, nothing ever felt more like home than when she says, “I love you too.”

☆☆☆

The next meeting is only better because of the fresh air separating both sides and the imminent fact that last time’s events have everyone so weary they can no longer think about arguing. It has started to sink in that this is no longer a piece of cake, or maybe that it never was to begin with. As well, a park full of citizens going on walks and taking their day slow is no place to expose yourself. It’s warm for spring, one of the nicest days you’ve had in a while, and you’d hate to ruin it.

There is a large circular expanse of white concrete with different pathways branching off into the park, green shrubbery lining each walkway. Pillars on both sides of each one hold up an awning providing much-appreciated shade. You no longer have to squint and can see everyone clearly.

Namjoon, sulking on a decorative cement bench, kicks off the meeting with a depressing statement on the Agency. “They didn’t take anything physical, but we traced their footsteps back through our computers. It looks like they downloaded a lot of our reports from the past few years and files on both our members and yours.”

“What do you mean?” Yeji’s eyebrows furrow deeply in confusion. “What kind of information was in the reports?”

“A lot of profiles. Skills, incidents you’ve been involved with, current standing position… things like that. On nearly every important person in the Agency and in the Mafia.”

“Why though?” asks Jimin, leaning back against one of the pillars beside Namjoon. “Can’t they find that information anywhere? A lot of it isn’t a secret. Ask anyone around here and they’ll tell you Min Yoongi is a lazy bastard that-” Jeon gives him a light punch on the shoulder, his disappointed grimace almost saying, “c’mon, man.” Yoongi looks like he couldn’t care less.

Taehyung, who has been pacing the narrow concrete walkways, speaks up. “Get to know your enemy better, I guess? Can’t hurt.”

“To be honest, I don’t think they really needed it either. It looked more like it was meant to be taken as a threat. They probably just did that because they could and they had the time,” You say, recalling the attentive wreckage of the Agency.

“Well, I don’t know about that. We know that they’re tricky, obviously, but they can’t know everything. I think they were also trying to get a better idea of what they were up against. Plus, it’s always intimidating when you come into contact with someone and it seems they know every detail about you when you don’t even know your name.”

Namjoon’s take makes sense. His frustrating attitude is an easier pill to swallow if he’s able to make conclusions like that. Not much could scare you off, but if a random person approached you in a fight and began talking about your past, or your personal life, or mistake you’d made, you’d definitely be unsettled, maybe just enough to slip up. With this group, you’re sure that a slip up is all it takes.

Wendy looks like she has something to add, but there’s a frog stuck in her voice box. She gives a shy look to Namjoon and then continues, something perhaps he was planning on leaving out. “To be specific, there were multiple traces of the words “Lion” and “Scorpion” in the information they stole... It makes me think they’ve heard of your, um, past reputation and wanted to see what they could dig up.”

“Oh, great.” You’re unable to help yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Wow,” Jeon muses, “Didn’t know we were so famous.” His playful regard meets your own, but you’re too down to react with anything else but a blank stare before flicking your eyes away as soon as they meet.

He looks good today. You hate how much your brain keeps begging you to take another experimental glance as if one wasn’t enough. His button-up drapes gently over his shoulders and is tucked loosely into his trousers, sleeves folded all the way up to his elbows. Not that you’re paying such close attention.

Namjoon clears his throat. “I wasn’t going to say anything because I didn’t want to alarm you without any pretense, but…”

You raise an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms over your front. “Well, I’m glad she spoke up. What if they target us because they think we’re a threat? They already know we’ve been working together.”

Wendy offers a small smile of appreciation, but it is not to ignore how the agents all share looks of hesitation toward each other, visibly uncomfortable with Namjoon’s secrecy.

“Yeah… that seemed kind of important,” Yoongi says, squinting into the sunlight as he tilts his head up. “You can’t keep things from us if we’re working together. I hate this just as much as you do, but we aren’t gonna win if we aren’t honest.”

Jimin sighs. “He’s right. If one side tries to get an upper hand it’ll just cause a rift that makes us easier to pull apart.”

“Okay. That’s fair. I... apologize.” Namjoon is stiff, refusing to look anyone in the eye. He wants to avoid further questioning, but for the time being, you won’t press it. There’s enough on your plate right now.

“Anyway… what’s our next move?”

Yeji’s question goes unanswered. It sits under the afternoon light, the peaceful chirps of birds and casual chatter and boat horns filling in the blank space that no one knows what to do with.

“We don’t have a lot to go off of. The investigation is still looking for identification factors, but it could take time, which, as I’m sure you know, we don’t have a lot of. The most we can do is conduct some interviews with witnesses and passersby, but…” the Vice President looks up at you, “we are counting on them slipping up somehow.”

The dejection in the air is hard to ignore. Everyone feels it. Regardless of how impossible it might be for the two sides to see eye to eye, they can see how hopeless the fight has gotten in a span of mere days.

With the DA out of the picture, all of their employees are either working from home or in last-minute rented offices with limited resources. Never in a million years did any of the executives think they’d see the building that represented their struggle go up in flames. Yet the day it did, they couldn’t be happy about it. It only struck fear.

“So there’s really nothing we can do?”

No one needs to answer for you to know.

“Okay. Let’s wrap this up then. Just be careful from here on out. You know, be cautious of what you say, where you say it. They might be monitoring radio waves, might have bugged places you think are safe.”

In times like these, you have good reason to be a little paranoid. They already knew where your office space was and the time it had been rented. The Syndicate was skilled and definitely had their reach online, and you didn’t doubt it extended to the personal world. There’s nothing money can’t bribe.

It’s disheartening to see how downcast the group is on a day so bright. Everyone begins to mobilize, though slowly, but they get a move on, going back to wherever they need to be or where they want to be. For now, you decide you want to be here.

Waving goodbye to Yeji and the others, you find a nice spot under some shade on a well maintained wooden bench. It faces the water, today clear and calm, and out in the distance is the gleaming modern drawbridge that closes off the port. To the right, the port terminal stretches out long into the river for the large ships that come in, the marina docked with boats of all shapes and sizes tucked in closer to the city behind it. The boats flood in and out, passing you by, the sails floating in the breeze so temptingly you can just see yourself hopping on one so easily and going along to wherever it may take you.

The dream is short-lived, because Jeon’s presence beside you tugs you from your imagination.

“What do you want?” You can feel him looking at you, but you can’t pull your eyes away from the ships drifting by.

It’s a hit to the confidence he strode over here with, but he continues. “What, we can’t make small talk? We’re partners for this, Y/N.”

Any opportunity he sees to make contact with you, he’ll take. He knows why you’re the opposite, but he’s dying to see you, and not just from across a meeting table or a park.

“Partners don’t need to make small talk, they just have to do the job they’ve been assigned and be done with it.”

He exhales tiredly, disappointed in your lack of engagement, like he expected at least a small something more. “Listen, I just wanted to talk to you. I know how things are, and-”

“No, Gguk, you don’t know how things are,” you snap, finally facing him. “You had the past three years to talk to me, but you didn’t. You don’t get to come and take care of things now while it’s convenient for you.”

“It’s not like that.”

“It sure looks like that.”

“Well it’s not.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s me wanting to talk to you. Because it’s been a long time and I miss you.”

You make a sound caught somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, feeling even more let down than you thought you could be. “Yeah, okay.”

It sounds like bull to you. Does he really think you’re that gullible? Does he really think you were going to see him again and run into his arms like a bride who's been tying yellow ribbons around an old oak tree? The anger you felt at the agency yesterday returns, for what happened in the past, for what’s happening now, for all of it. How he can say he missed you when he had all the time in the world, when he was clearly happy after running away from what he had with you, you can’t understand.

Meanwhile, Jeon feels his heart palpitating as he waits for a reply. The explanations want to roll right off his tongue, but he knows this is not the time and place to bring up the subject matter he’s really urging to talk to you about. That conversation will be held soon as he finds it possible. He thought it might be worth it to just start the build-up with trivial chatter, but it’s not working, and probably never will with you.

He picks at his nails, scraping the minimal dirt out. Should he say it? A part of him wants to go for it, and another wants to wait in fear of scaring you. Unfortunately, he thinks it will either way.

“I heard you’ve been taking care of a girl.”

Unbeknownst to you, he’s right.

It steals the breath from your lungs, that residing anger booking it to make room for fear. Though you try to conceal it, you’re sure he’s seen through it, already felt how the atmosphere has shifted. He shouldn’t know about Penny. In fact, no one outside the Mafia should. You can’t meet his eyes, taking more interest in trying to count every strand of fine hair on the space between your knuckles.

It feels just like what Namjoon had talked about, and though you’re sure deep down he wouldn’t try to hurt you like that, it plants a seed of dread in you. In any other world, it might be similar to someone asking, “How are the kids?” and there would be nothing out of the ordinary about it, just a friendly gesture. This instance, however, is layered with a cocktail of warning and concern.

Penny can fend for herself, she’s responsible, of course, but no one is invincible. It’s only up to a certain point, especially knowing that she’s only a child.

“How do you know about her?”

“I still get around,” he says, letting the pause marinate before adding faintly, “Don’t worry. No one that’s gonna try anything knows. I made sure of it.”

The way he still knows what you’re thinking makes you shiver. Or want to throw up. You pass over the slight relief of his last statement in favor of the bliss that comes with ignoring it.

When you don’t reply because you simply don’t know what to make of it, he continues. “It’s honorable. But that’s dangerous for you. To have someone important to you.”

“I know that,” you admit.

It wasn’t like you were stupid. Sure, you were an executive, but what did that mean when Penny made you so vulnerable? The same way they used her against their enemies could be used against you in a heartbeat for tenfold the amount they wanted. She was your weak spot.

“You have to be careful.”

“I know that.”

Jeon winces at your icy inflection. He’s like a child being scolded by his mother. His eyes squeeze shut, thoughts circling back to all the words that were just aching to pour out of him.

“Listen, Y/N, maybe we can go get some coffee? Or-”

You have to cut him off before he gets too out of hand, palms hitting your thighs. “I think that’s enough for today, Gguk.”

He wants to object to your leaving, but he doesn’t want to push you. Your deep sigh is proof of the distress he caused in the past and still continues to leave behind.

So much for some nice quiet time on your own, huh? You stand up and turn from him, heading down the exit path. Realistically, you’re glad he doesn’t call out after you, because you know it would just get you worked up and that was the last thing you needed. When you were around him, you felt the piercing image your reputation had created crumbling to ruins. It pains you to think of the consequences of an emotional err during times like these.

Yet still, it breaks your heart to leave.

☆☆☆

“He’s been really getting to you, huh?”

Yeji’s voice is quiet above the cacophony of clinking silverware and incoherent conversation, but intelligible enough for the both of you to hear in your own space.

You smear some whipped cream on your forkful of waffle, placing it in your mouth and letting both the fluffy texture and immaculate taste sweep you off your feet for a moment, as brunch is everything good and great in the world. Or at least in your world, at this very moment.

You swallow before answering, your usual temper tamed by the sedative of a certain portmanteau of breakfast and lunch. “Of course he has. He won’t leave me the fuck alone.”

“Well, he does have to work with you.”

As you chew, you shake your head in wide, dramatic arcs. “No, I mean he keeps acting like we’re old friends. After the meeting he asked me If I wanted to get coffee with him!” you exclaimed, “Like no, I’m not getting fucking coffee with you, who do you think you are?”

Yeji flashes her pearly whites at your short fuse, the one she’s versed in remedying. Deft hands lift up her mug for a thoughtful sip.

“Maybe his intentions aren’t that bad. He’s always been happy-go-lucky like that and he’s probably just too oblivious to think about the consequences of what he did. Yeah, pretending like it didn’t happen hurts, but because of what’s going on right now... it might be a blessing in disguise.”

Despite her intimidating appearance, Yeji was an exceptional conversationalist and particularly thoughtful in her advice. It feels more like a talk between two childhood friends catching up over some food, gossiping about people from high school and boy drama. Though it’s not quite that simple, it lets you take a back seat for a little while. Yeji is one of the only people you’d consider a friend.

“What, like making it easier for the mission?”

“Yeah, 'cause if you can push that issue out of the picture temporarily, you can get the job done and either deal with it after or forget about it entirely. And hey, you’re the Scorpion!” Yeji leans across the table in an enthusiastic whisper. “Scorpions are badass and vicious and don’t spend their time getting worked up over men. In fact, Scorpions reel men in and then kill them, especially you.”

You know she’s trying to encourage you, but the thought is spectacularly unappealing. While she was right in what you did, it’s not like you enjoyed it or were proud of it. You hate to be described that way. Perhaps that is your character among the mafia and the image you spread to protect yourself, and perhaps it’s even true when you get in the work mindset, but is that really you? Talk about an identity crisis.

You reach for your water, the condensation slippery on the glass. “That’s just my reputation.”

She sighs, slumping back into her side of the booth. “Okay, scratch that then. What I mean is that, besides the people you’re close to like Penny and I, you’re this astute, intelligent, skilled executive. You’ve accomplished a lot to get where you are. Why are you letting him get under your skin and uproot that?”

Yeji wouldn’t let someone make her feel like that, and she wishes you wouldn’t either. As much as she secretly admires you - for both that reputation and the real you - she cares about you all the same. Maybe one of the only people that does.

“I guess you have a point.”

“You know I have a point.”

“It’s not that easy though, Yeji,” you say weakly, staring down into your glass. “Every time I see him, I don’t know whether I want to kiss him or beat his ass.”

She laughs at your comment, making you crack a smile too. “It happens, Y/N. Love and hurt go hand in hand.” When you look up at her, she reaches a slender hand over the table and interlocks her fingers with your own with a squeeze. “Just tolerate it for now.”

A troubled exhale leaves you at the prospect, but you squeeze back nonetheless.

“I can do that.”

☆☆☆

It's two days later when you get a call from none other than the Lion himself. The time has been passing unbearably, slower than a soul train passing an ambulance. You and Penny relaxed by bingeing an ungodly amount of shows and movies, even delving into your weekly budget for a stockpile of snacks and drinks. But with every laugh that tumbled out of you and blended into the live audiences’, the nervous thoughts of the situation lingered in the back of your mind.

But hopefully, this call will have some good news.

“What’s up?”

“Good news.”

Eureka! For once, you’re happy to be speaking to Jeon.

“Like Namjoon said, they slipped up. Someone wasn’t wearing gloves and left a fingerprint in the DA. Intelligence was able to track it down to a random guy living in the Gambling District. I’ll tell you more about him, but I’m coming to pick you up now.”

You to your feet from your seat on the couch, wedging the phone between your shoulder and ear so you could throw your stuff together. Penny pauses the show for you, sending a raised brow. In silent conversation, you shrug.

God, it’s too early. You’re rummaging around the room for your wallet and trying to process cohesive thoughts simultaneously, and it’s not working out.

You stop to let your hands rub at your eyes. “Okay, but how do we know this was an actual slip up? We don’t have footage to check… it might have been on purpose to lead us somewhere.”

The one thing you had learned in all your time was to play like your opponent. Never underestimate them - especially the Syndicate, who clearly wanted that message to reach you. But if you were trying to get the upper hand on the people you were trying to eliminate, it wouldn’t be far fetched to give them a false lead the same way you had before.

“It’s all we got. And if we are led somewhere, we’ll figure it out.”

“Okay. Talk to you in a bit. I’ll meet you in the parking garage?”

“No need. Already walking up.” In the background, you hear Jeon’s keys jingling as he strides. “Also, we’re stopping for food first. Bye.” A blunt click signals the end of the call.

Shit. He’s coming to your apartment? The current state is an indescribable mess - hopefully he wouldn’t call CPS on you. More importantly, you are still in your pajamas, and there is no way he can see you like this.

“Was that the curveball?” Penny asks with an impish interest.

Your eyes squint. “Take a guess.”

Hurrying down the cramped hallway to your shared bedroom with Penny, you trade your sweats for some comfortable jeans and, with the time ticking down, throw a moto jacket over your hoodie. As the knock on the door sounds, you’re gathering your hair into a ponytail.

When you reach the living room, Penny is already pulling the door open. You hear a greeting, and then Jeon’s head appears around it comically, peeking into the apartment.

“There you are,” he says, looking at your current state with confusion. Not exactly what you might wear to base, but it got the job done. He snickers. “What, did I catch you off guard?”

Trying to hold back your minor pants from running around so much, all you can muster is, “Yeah, a little bit.” You turn to the mirror and pluck a bobby pin from your lips, tucking it into your hair to keep the flyaways down.

“Okay, let’s hit it. Penny, super sorry about this, I’ll finish watching with you later when I get home. There’s food in the fridge, you know where the money is, and I’ll call Yeji to check in on you if it gets late, okay?”

She pouts. “Okay.”

“Hey, you remember the safe word?”

Penny nods dramatically, her dark bangs bouncing, standing on her tippy toes to whisper in your ear, “Cherry-cola… also, he’s really cute.”

You pull away laughing, giving her a light noogie with your fist as her nose scrunches up. She wasn’t wrong, of course. Your time apart did him well, and you assume he must have gotten tips on how to dress because of how effortlessly put together he looked these days. But that's beside the point.

“Love you, Pen. Bye. And make sure your ringer is on.” With a small peck on the top of her head and bidding goodbye with a promise to return, you’re pulling away and leading Jeon out the door, being careful in locking it behind you.

“What’s with the safeword?” He asks, starting down the hall to the elevator. An uncomfortable tilt to his lips fixes on his face. “Isn’t that… kinda inappropriate?”

You roll your eyes, swatting at his shoulder. “Ew. Not that kind of safeword, dumbass. It’s so she knows who she can trust and let inside. There’s a lot of people that I trust that she doesn’t know, so if I have someone swinging by I tell them so she knows she can trust them too.”

He makes a sound of understanding, slipping his hands into his pockets. The way he ambles is spirited yet composed, shoulders relaxed with purposeful steps. Jeon always came and went like low tide in the morning, a calmer view of his personality considering his notorious “devil may care” attitude.

“Can you tell me?” Once he sees the disapproving expression on your face, he continues, “Listen, I already know about her. What if something happens and you need me to get her and you’re too busy dying to tell me?”

Crossing your arms in front of you, you shake your head. “Hopefully that will never happen in the first place, but god forbid…” you cautiously lower your voice, “Cherry-cola.”

“Cherry-cola?” he repeats casually.

You shush him loudly, glaring and speaking through gritted teeth. “The point of a safeword is that not everyone knows it!”

“Sorry,” his lips purse as you press the button and begin waiting for the elevator. “Why that one?”

“It’s our favorite drink. Goes with anything.”

“Well...”

You cut him off with a hand as the thick metal doors slide open and the two of you step inside. “Not a matter of opinion. I don’t want to hear it.”

He raises his hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. I will respect that, but you know...”

It’s then that you see him giving you a look, an impish smile adorning his cheeks. The dimples that gently poke his skin are the kind that make you feel lucky.

“What?”

His eyes avert, head shaking as he turns away and exchanges his view for his sly reflection in the metal. “Oh, nothing.”

“Gguk.”

A teasing tone coats his tongue as he speaks. “Well, I don’t know, it just reminded me, you know, just pulled the thought from the deep recess of my brain, that.... we used to have one too.”

You almost couldn’t believe your ears, even considering asking him to repeat himself. The arch look in his eyes told you everything you needed to know. “Yeah, we did,” you agree. “Not like I ever had to use it...”

He faces you with a disbelieving breath of laughter leaving his open mouth, astonished. “What, did you want to have to say it?”

You shrug nonchalantly, raising your voice to say, “No, no… you were always just a little soft about it, that’s all.”

You can’t help the grin growing on your face as his lips part in offense, one corner slowly turning up in a knowing open-mouthed smile. His lids drop in the slightest manner, barely noticeable if you didn’t pay such close attention, and you have to turn away before your face starts to blaze too unbearably. “Oh, you know I was not soft.”

Both of you are thinking the same thing, no doubt about it. Memories roll back like pristine tapes on a projector, ones that most definitely prove his point.

You clear your throat, unsure of where the conversation is going and not bold enough to let it brew. “Anyway, about the guy…?”

He’s disappointed in your choice to change the subject, the tell in the way his head drops and chews at his lower lip for a split second, but abides nonetheless. “Twenty-six years old, been working at lots of casinos around as a dealer but his most recent job was three months ago at King’s Crown. After that, no record. Unfortunately, we have to take him alive since the investigation has the police involved.”

“Unfortunately?”

“Well, kind of. It’s just limiting when there’s a stipulation.”

“Okay. I will respect that.”

Your callback is the cause of a smile taking over his face. You’re glad he doesn’t mention your attitude - if he did, your dignity wouldn’t let you continue. Maybe it’s your good mood paired with his unexpectedness, maybe it’s Yeji’s advice telling you to tolerate him, but regardless, you won’t deny that it feels better than the anger. With hope of a lead comes hope that this could work out.

“By the way, what’re you in the mood for?” Jeon asks casually, turning to you. “We can do fast food, we can do Firehouse...”

As soon as he says the word, memories from long ago that almost don’t even feel like yours resurface. Firehouse was always your and Jeon’s go-to pizza place on lunch break or for celebration after a job well done. Though you haven’t been there in years, the delectable taste of their pies is still fresh in your mind. It’s tempting, but you don’t want to make the decision. You weren’t that hungry, anyway. Jeon stares, awaiting an answer.

At your shrug, his patience runs out and he fishes his hand into his pocket. “Okay, I’m flipping a coin. Firehouse is heads, tails is the nearest drive-thru.”

He says it naturally, but you know he’s testing the water by the way his gaze lingers, measuring your reaction to see if you’ll be angry with him. Not one, but two fond tokens from the past, all in the span of thirty seconds? At one point, flipping a coin was an everyday occurrence to settle disagreements, whether it be where to eat, what time to close up shop, or whose plan to follow. You know he’s trying to jog your good memories, but maybe it’s not such a bad thing.

The metal flings from his thumb and lands with a muted tap in his opposite palm. He slaps it over to the backside of his hand.

“Heads. Firehouse it is.” His eyes flick up to yours, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

You grin. “Sure. Wanted that anyway.”

He rolls his eyes. A shy smile crawls up his face, the faint hallmark scar at the edge of his cheekbone shifting. “Yeah, alright. Tell me next time before it lands on something you don’t want.”

The elevator doors open with a ding, freeing you into the open world. If you let the resentment subside for a few minutes, it feels just like it used to when things were okay - you and Jeon against the world.

☆☆☆

“So this is it?”

You’re staring up a beat down brick building four stories high. It’s dilapidated and nearly falling apart, in contrast to the virgin casinos, modern and flawless with intricate architecture and an ambiance of expense just half a mile away. Supposedly, your guy was somewhere in there, and it was your best bet that he had something of value to give you.

Jeon slams his side of the car door, still licking at pizza grease on his forearm, and comes around to stand next to you. “Yeah. Floor two, apartment two.” You laugh to yourself incredulously at his casual antics, but he doesn’t seem to care as he walks right up to the door.

He finds that no buzzer is needed for entry, so with your guns at the ready, you take slow steps inside. Jeon leads, you trailing to the side of him. It’s eerily quiet, not a single person out to encounter, none of the hustle and bustle a usual apartment would contain, not even the sounds of footsteps or moving furniture. Did anyone actually live here?

The floors of the hallways are decorated with faded forest green carpet, stains and dust covering the washed-out fabric. There is an ugly floral strip of wallpaper at the top of the beige walls that are dented and scraped in random places.

You’re careful to keep down the volume of the creaking stairs as you shift your weight over them, but it’s nearly impossible. Upon further inspection, the door frame of apartment two was covered in scratches and markings, thin cobwebs joined in the corners. The door itself looks cheap and it has what seems to be a few drops of blood splattered near the knob. You and Jeon share a look of uncertainty, those gut instincts kicking in to let you know that something was off.

He begins to count down, and on three, you’re pushing in the door. He rushes in first with you on his tail to scope out the sides. The apartment is empty, except…

“Well, that’s fucking fantastic.”

There’s a dead body occupying the chair in front of the television. It’s the man, alright, but his throat has been slit, red coating his neck and clothes, head hanging back over the seat. There’s no smell, though - it couldn’t have been that long since others were here, especially due to the slight glisten of blood not yet dry on his skin.

They didn’t bury him, either. Just left the body out in the open for you to find. One alarming step ahead, just like last time.

“Covering their tracks. They knew he fucked up and took care of him before we could,” says Jeon, scouring the rest of the beaten-down unit. No signs of a struggle, no mess, no nothing. A dead end.

When you pat the body down, reach into his pockets, there’s nothing. When you move to his bedroom and start to search through his nightstand, it strikes you that there might be something invasive about rustling through a dead man’s belongings, but you’ve done it too many times to still be sensitive to it. You peer around his closet, look under the mattress, filter through his drawers, until a certain glint of light catches your eye.

On the side of his bed closest to the window, a small card lies on the carpet beneath, hidden by the frame if it weren’t for the shiny sticker on the back. You bring it up for a closer look in the light.

It’s got his name, picture, and contact information as well as a barcode at the bottom. Not a driver’s license, but an ID card for the Belvedere Casino. The sticker in the top corner makes out a small icon of a spread of playing cards.

You’re about to shout out to Jeon, but stop yourself as soon as you open your mouth. You take a slow once over around the room. Namjoon’s words echo in between your thoughts - Could the place be bugged? They were here not so long ago, and considering how they kept seeming to be a step in front of you at all times, it wasn’t a far stretch. There was no way to be sure, but you had a hunch.

Walking back to the main room, you catch his attention from where he is snooping around the shelves.

“Didn’t find anything. I think we’re out of luck.” When he turns to look at you, you widen your eyes and make an intense gesture with your finger to your lips before pointing a finger from your ear to the ceiling and directing your eyes around the room. You’re grateful when he understands immediately.

“Seriously? Nothing?” he asks timidly.

“Yeah. They got us. We should head back and call for cleanup, see if they can find anything.” You start for the door, pulling it open.

He hums, eyeing the item in your hand as he walks out behind you. “Good idea… I don’t really want to be here anymore anyway. Feels too weird.”

It’s silent all the way down. Was it too obvious? Was the dialogue too strange, too choppy? The two of you reach the street, careful of your surroundings, before getting back in his car.

“What was that about?” he asks, shutting the door as he slides into the driver’s seat.

You hold out the card for him to take. “Look. You know how you said there was no recent record of employment besides at King’s Crown? He’s been working at the Belvedere the past three months.”

He looks at you incredulously. “And?”

For whatever reason, he makes you doubt yourself. Suddenly, that solid idea you had in mind that made you split from the apartment is no longer so solid.

“The Belvedere has to have something. That’s our new lead!” Pulling your seatbelt over your body, you reach for your phone to give the Boss an update.

“He could have just been working off-record and gotten involved with the Syndicate some other way.”

You turn to him seriously. “Jeon. If it’s separate, why bother? Why would he be working for the Syndicate when he has a stable source of income as a dealer unless the two come hand in hand? They have to be hiding in plain sight.”

“And you’re willing to bet all your cards on that?” You almost find the doubt in his voice offensive.

You exhale deeply, trying to push down your temper. “The people in the Syndicate who killed him made sure there was nothing left on him to tell us who he was. No wallet, no keys, no license, no nothing, because they wanted his identity hidden. If he was working for them separately, why would they bother to do that? They would have just killed him and left. But it was about who he was and what he did. Which was dealing at The Belvedere.”

The car goes silent, and Jeon doesn’t reply. He only looks at you blankly, his poker face hard to break through, but not impossible. You know when he lets a hand slip up to tug at the strands at the nape of his neck.

“Good job,” he grins, hooking the key in the ignition and rumbling the car to life. He pulls out of the parking spot and onto the road casually.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You cross your arms in front of you protectively, glaring at him from the side.

“Oh, come on. I never actually doubted you, I was just messing around.”

You scoff loudly, turning to the window. “You’re such a fucking liar, Gguk. You didn’t get the connection until I explained it and the fact that you can’t even admit that you’re wrong, the fact that you have to act like you always knew, blows my fucking mind!”

He makes a left turn, looking out at the road, clearly avoiding you even though you’re stuck in the same damn car a foot away. “Calm down, Y/N. It’s not that serious.”

“But it is that serious! It was going so well, Gguk. We were finally acting like regular partners on a job. You always have to ruin everything, don’t you? It always has to be about you, and how much of a hero you are-”

“I never said I was a hero.”

“But you sure act like it.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Oh, I’m being ridiculous? Comes from the guy who claims he was ‘just joking around’ during a serious case like this when you know it’s not like what it used to be.”

“Okay, fine!” He shouts, hands slamming down on the steering wheel. “I did doubt you. I thought it was far fetched.” Jeon's voice booms as he rambles quickly in aggravation. “And then you explained it and I remembered that you’re really fucking smart and I wouldn’t have made that connection myself. And I lied because I didn’t know what else to say. I’m sorry, okay? Are you happy?”

Jeon’s free hand, which had been jerking around as he yelled, finds itself gripping the wheel again regretfully. Silence fills the car, hanging in the air as heavy and solid as concrete. You’re almost scared to breathe in face of all the tension. He looks like he’s about to say something else but stops himself before the words fall out.

The way you were fuming brings tears to your eyes. When your parents died, all you had was Jeongguk. But Jeongguk’s heart had been rooted in the mafia since he was young. The two were mutually exclusive, and your best option was following after him. It was hard to believe the boy you put your trust in so blindly all those years ago had grown into the man sitting next to you now, bringing you to tears with the way he infuriated you. Where did it all go wrong?

“No. I’m not.”

☆☆☆

You’re tired when you go to bed that night, and you’re tired when you wake up. Though you’re barely awake, you can feel Penny nestled into your side, body rising and falling as she breathes. It’s a small comfort, especially after the rough day you had. Last night had been a mess as you tried to hold it together for her, but simply couldn’t.

Today, you’ll be heading over to a motel in the Gambling District to stay at indefinitely with Jeon while you work on the case. You have no clue how long it will take - you’ll be taking a look at the Belvedere, but what comes after that, you don’t know.

It was important to note that somehow, the two of you had moved up to the faces of the mission, even though both sides were working tirelessly in the search.

The last thing you want to do right now is see him, but you have no choice. The sooner you start working and get it done, the sooner you can get home. But for now, you have to start packing. You take another moment to lay with Penny, because when you’ll next feel this safety and comfort again, you can’t be sure of. Then, you carefully unlink her from you and begin laying things out.

Something nice to wear for the casino, clothes to sleep in, essentials for hygiene, an extra pair of socks…

Eventually, Penny stretches out and groans to inform you of her awakening while you roam around the room. Her feet shifting under the comforter push a t-shirt off the bed.

“Sleep okay?” She rubs her eyes. “Yeah, you?”

“Eh. Could have been better.”

While you are away, Penny will be home by herself. The Boss said that she wouldn’t be required for work while you were gone - she could stay home and safe, for your reassurance. It still makes you nervous, of course, but bringing her with you isn’t an option. Yeji promised she would stop in from time to time, and you would be leaving her with a sum of money in case she needs it to order food or something of the sort.

“When are you leaving?”

“I have to be there by one, so probably in an hour or so.”

“Can we make waffles then?”

You sigh, letting your arms go limp at your side. Waffles were a hassle, and the cleanup could be a nightmare, but… something told you it was worth it over the potential mess.

“Sure, go get the machine set up and I’ll come out in a sec.”

It takes a few more minutes to get everything packed, take a few extra bottles of soaps and gels just in case, quickly zipping up your duffle bag and tossing it down onto the bed for when you return later.

Out in the kitchen, Penny has gotten more of a move on. She has already retrieved the ingredients from the pantry, even started measuring amounts out accordingly with the instructions on the back of the box.

You let her have a little fun and crack the eggs this time - though some shell gets in there, it’s nothing you can’t pick out. She makes jokes and you can’t help but laugh, and something about it has its way of calming you down. It reminds you of how precious moments spent together are. Something about the girl just makes you let go of the burdens you carry.

But it’s much too soon that you’re cleaning up. A small ending for a small fragment of your day bound to be filled with things much larger than you’re ready to handle.

The rain falls like feathers when you pull into the lot, plunking consistently on your windshield. You turn the key and take it out, shutting down the vehicle’s rumbling engine, the lights dimming out all around you. You should get inside sooner than later, before the weather worsens, but you can’t seem to bring yourself out of the car. Jeon’s is already parked, meaning he’s inside waiting. But there’s no other choice you have. You’ll have to see him at some point, anyway. Postponing will only anger you further.

You push open the car door quickly, grabbing your bag and darting up the stairs as they clang under your shoes. The droplets smack against your skin and drip down relentlessly. It could be worse, but it is certainly not pleasant. Once you find shelter under the awning, you raise your hand in preparation to knock, but Jeon is already yanking open the door and stepping aside to make way for your entrance.

Inside, you dab at your hair with your sleeve carefully, fixing it in the mirror opposite to you. As clued in by the backpack and laptop already set up on the right side of the singular bed in the room, you deduced he had already claimed it. Therefore, you take the initiative to place your own bag on the left side, closest to the wall.

“So… how are you?”

“I’m fine.” You reach into your bag to begin unpacking a few of your essentials, feeling his eyes glued to you as you move around the room. Even as you plug in your charger, toss your computer on the bed, you could sense his firm yet uneasy presence behind you.

“Have you started yet?” you ask, brushing back the hair that had fallen forward onto your face. You’d prefer to start your work instead of floating around the elephant in the room awkwardly.

He tucks his hands into his pockets. “No, I was waiting for you.” Jeon has been stuck to the same spot near the dim lamp beside the door since you stepped through the threshold. It inclined you to think that maybe he’s as nervous as you are, but you’re sure it’ll pass over in a matter of minutes once he gathers himself.

“Okay.” You exhale in thought, sweeping yourself into a comfortable position on the bed. “I’ll start doing background on the casino and it’s ownership records. You can look into workers or people associated with the man who was killed. Or call the agency, I don’t know. You do you.”

He makes a small noise of agreement, flipping open his laptop. However, with the slow movement of his fingers across the keyboard, the air void of purposeful clicking, you can tell he’s not getting much done. In fact, you can see in your peripheral his stillness, as if he’s waiting to make a move.

When you spare a glimpse over to him, he offers an expression of deep thought, only to say, “There are snacks, too. In case you get hungry.”

Your scampering flow of typing pauses. “Okay.” All you can offer is a brief, tight pull of your lips, what you could barely define as a smile.

Luckily, he seems to receive your message loud and clear, turning back around in his chair to start up whatever he was planning on. You know what you want to get - the information most valuable to doing what you needed to do and confirming what you already suspected, which was in the past records of the proprietorship. It would also be helpful if you could find current workers and see what they were doing; Maybe even more helpful if you could find nothing at all.

The records you stumble upon are nothing short of interesting once you finally break down that barrier. Ownership of the casino had been consistent up until three months ago, when the deed holder - a healthy man of only fifty-six years old - made a business deal and swiftly moved out of the country, only to be found dead in his home a month later. The new owner’s background appeared without even the slightest scratch. The lack of suspicion is suspicious in itself - you don’t think the Falcon would have the place under his own name, but having it under someone who is pristine as a newly minted coin is dubious all the same.

It’s the shut of Jeon’s laptop that sucks you back into the reality of the motel room from your online sanctuary. He stands up to stretch and makes a move for the bathroom. The room is shrouded in the darkness of nighttime, save for the moonlight streaming in through the windows and the sorry excuse for a lamp on your night table. It wouldn’t kill you to call it a night either.

When he emerges, you take your turn, bringing a change of clothes with you so you won’t have to face the tension that might arise if you came back out in just a towel. The shower is pleasant; For a second, if you close your eyes, you’re no longer in the same space with him and can enjoy the time for yourself.

Your heavy heart can’t be kept at bay for too long. Outside the bathroom is a surprisingly accurate reminder of old times, when scenes just like this were the regular, and the feeling was the same. But at this moment, the way you’re avoiding his eyes while you braid your hair in the mirror is a show of just how much things have changed.

“Why are you looking at me?” you pipe quietly over the steady padding of your feet on the carpet, his watch following you hesitantly.

Jeon sits back at the head of the bed, not sure where to direct his gaze anymore now that you’ve verbally interrupted it. His constant attention, and especially the way he doesn’t deny it even in the face of your attitude towards him, leaves you with a weary ache that you’re quickly getting tired of feeling all the time.

A charming, shy smile fixes on his face as his head tilts endearingly, testing the waters. “What, I can’t look at you?”

“Not like that,” you mumble, barely above a whisper, lifting up the sheets to crawl in, leaving as much space as possible between the two of you. When you turn your back to him to look at the wall, you think he might make another teasing comment, but he doesn’t.

“It’s the braid,” he elaborates, as if it’s some sort of excuse sufficient enough to play flirty and cool with you when the situation is anything but. “It reminds me of when we were kids… you used to wear it like that every day.”

It’s almost as if to say, do you remember? But of course you remember. Afternoons spent at the playground, your hair in a loose braid thrown over the front of your shoulder. Mornings spent in the courtyard, scribbling down answers to work that was due in ten minutes. Evenings spent wandering around town, laughing and joking together as kids should. But nothing offered by the times of the past could dismiss the times of the present.

You lean over and tug the chain on the lamp, darkness enclosing your small room.

“Go to bed, Gguk.”

He doesn’t make another sound that night.

☆☆☆

The storm has proven its resilience yet continues to torrent, horribly testing the aging logs of trees and endlessly splattering your windows. Even still, it has something to say, residing anger it wants to make you feel, trapping you inside your room and limiting your options. It’s a deep pain, but perhaps if you were a storm, you’d let yourself drain out every ounce of deplorable wrath until there was nothing leftover, too.

Jeon sits at the small table near the door. He’s been there for who knows how long, flipping through pages, making phone calls that connect no dots, wasting his time. There is nothing that can be done at the moment, not with the state of the weather at least. Weather, a trivial matter, the most popular topic choice for insignificant conversation, heeds your course of action without a known resumption.

In the meantime, you enjoy yourself as much as you can. You make popcorn in the less than appealing microwave and settle in to watch whatever piques your interest in the slightest, meaning there is not a wide selection. Right now, you’ve got on a show about the aliens who have supposedly visited ancient Egypt and other societies bygone, and have been consistently present throughout the timeline of human history.

“Y/N. Let me ask you a question.” Jeon rubs his forehead, slumping over in his chair. “Did you come here with the intention of helping this case, or just to vacation?”

You nod in thought, humming. “Good question. I’d say the former, but I don’t think your question was intended to have an answer. Let me ask you a question then.”

His tired face turns to you expectantly.

You take a pensive breath before raising your hand and asking slowly, “Do you think that aliens provided advanced technologies to the Germans to build new weapons for the Third Reich?”

He stares at you blankly, meeting your still and inquisitive expression for just a moment until he cracks, shaking his head and looking away toward the window, as if he’ll find something better to say out there.

“No, I’m serious,” you insist as you toss another kernel into your mouth, hoping he takes your biting satire to heart. “Because, this guy is saying that the Germans built a flying saucer. A whole fucking flying saucer, called the Haunebu, and no, wait, listen, it was said to use mythical technology from old Indian texts.”

You stare, intent on waiting for a response. Jeon pinches the bridge of his nose, the way his fuse was quickly shortening keeping you bitterly entertained. “You have to work with me, Y/N. Can you please just work with me?”

The joke dissolves and you blankly turn to flip through the channels. “I am working with you. There’s just nothing to work on.”

He puts his head in his hands. “For God’s sake, can you stop? I know you don’t care for me, but if you could just cooperate-”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Care for you?” you repeat, your smile fueled with gallons of flammable offense, sitting upright on the bed. He spins in his chair to face you again, eyebrows knitting together before confirming, “Yeah, care for me!”

A sour laugh escapes you, arms folding over your front. “I don’t care for you? That’s rich, Gguk.”

“No, you don’t! And I don’t think you ever have, quite frankly, because you’re acting like such a bitch to me and can’t even give me a chance!” Jeon stands now, leaning into his words as his hands stretch out in dramatic gestures.

You jump to your feet. ”Why should I give you a chance? What good has that ever done me?”

Jeon’s jaw visibly clenches, his hand shooting up to meet his chin as he eschews your scrutinizing eye. You feel your nails digging into your palms as your fists clench, but you’re sure you’ll swing at something if you stop.

Your throat begins to sting, masking your cracking voice with a low tone. “I almost died for you, Gguk. And a week later, you left me.”

The room collapses under the weight of the elephant. It’s everything you’ve wanted to say for years bubbling to the top.

As soon as the venom leaves your mouth, you know he remembers. The guilt washing over his features says it all, awful clips of the last mission you ever went on together passing through his vision.

It was supposed to be an easy interception of a deal, but Jeon’s inability to differentiate between necessary risk and recklessness cost you your covers. He got away. You were captured.

It was torture at the expense of his safety. Excruciating pain in order to protect him from his own mistake. Your blood spilled, your tears cried, your body hurt. Yet at the end of every video, every call, every threat, your only message to him was that it was okay.

They were the worst you had ever encountered. They wanted leverage over the Boss; They wanted Jeon. And the only way to him was to you. At the time, it was worth it. You wouldn’t give him up, you wouldn’t let yourself become a part of an exchange for his life. You put his over your own in a heartbeat.

And where had that gotten you?

Your depth of a breaking point had provided that desperately needed time to organize a plan of attack, and even though you hadn’t been there quite yet, even though you had been trained and it was far from your first rodeo, it wasn’t anything less than scarring.

Even though the mafia infiltrated and rescued you successfully, the inner turmoil never fully recovered. Though you moved past the nightmares and the flashbacks that hid in your damaged subconscious, the memory never stopped hurting. Especially when he up and left you to deal with it on your own.

“I know,” is all he can muster.

A thrilling laugh of spite rips from your throat. He hates it.

“What? That’s all you can say? You can’t even give me an explanation?”

“I… I was out of options for us, Y/N. After the mission, I knew it was me making you vulnerable. People were hurting you over me, and I didn’t want that for us anymore. I made a plan to leave, and I thought that you could come with me… but I was stupid and in a rush and the deal was only for my cooperation if the Agency helped me out. They wouldn’t let me take you.”

Your usual crisp verbosity fails you now, everything you need to say stuck in your throat. A stabbing anguish falls like bullets in a downpour, a storm born only in the bitterest winter.

“I know I fucked up, Y/N, I know I did. And I’ll always be sorry and I’ll always regret it. And I’ll spend every second of my life trying to make up for it.” Jeon’s lip quivers through his shaky breaths, his eyes now soaked, the ache in his heart unforgiving. “And I know I can’t ever take it back, but you hate me so bad…”

A pained upturn of your lips feeling the grudge of a thousand wrongdoings phases over your expression, for him, for you, for everyone you’d ever known in this sickening lifetime.

“I don’t hate you, Gguk,” you sob through your teeth, wiping furiously at your eyes, “I hate… I hate that I love you regardless of what you do.”

He winces. “Please don’t do that to me.” “Do what?”

Hot streams of tears trickled down his supple cheeks, voice cracking as he whispers, “Say that you love me when you know how I feel.”

“Oh shut up, Jeongguk!” you yell, wet rage prickling your veins as it courses through you. Your cheeks are now just vessels for a dam breaking loose. “I have always loved you!”

And it hurts so bad to say it. The way he makes your stomach flutter feels like a betrayal to yourself. But that smile he wears like a medallion, those eyes that are always searching for you, that golden heart that loved you so well - everything you hate is everything you love. Even when you want to ignore the truth for everything it’s worth and all the weight it heaves on its shoulders, it’s impossible to escape the way you love him even when you wish you could just hate him.

You calm yourself with a shaky breath. “I loved you before, and I loved you after, even when you left and I knew you weren’t coming back.”

“That’s not true,” he sputters, taking a step toward you. “I was always going to come back. Every day, I begged for help to get you out. But the deal I made with the agency was only my rescue for my cooperation, and it didn’t include you, no matter what I tried to do.”

It stings your chest. You have to turn away when your head drops to your palms, but he’s quick to reach a hand to your shoulder for your attention.

“It’s been over three years, Gguk,” you whisper, sniffling as you wipe your running nose with your sleeve. Your voice is clogged in disappointed acceptance. “Don’t lie. Just say my relevance to you faded and you forgot.”

He grasps your arm gently, beckoning your eyes to meet his. While your tears are slowing from tire, his are an endless faucet left on in negligence.

“No,” his tone softens, “No, I was waiting until it was safe.”

You shake your head, the soreness in your chest present as ever as you try to hold it all in. “It was never going to be safe.”

“Maybe. And maybe it won’t ever be. But you have to let me make it right.”

“How do you intend on doing that? Putting snacks in the fridge doesn’t do shit, Gguk.”

He inhales deeply as his lips press together. Jeon takes a careful glance around the room, eyebrows furrowing as he silently pleads with you.

“I made a plan to get you out after the mission is completed. The higher-ups at the Agency agreed just in exchange for you to give a private report with as much as you know for future reference. From there, it’s you going wherever you want, no strings attached, no extra deal you have to make.”

“That won’t work,” you scoff.

“Yes, it will! I promise it will! Listen, everything is already planned. My friends are taking extra care because they trust me. You’ll have new records, a new passport and a license, new everything, and even…”

“Gguk...” You whisper as he continues rambling. “Gguk. Jeongguk!”

He takes in a sharp breath as his words are cut off mid-stream, feeling his heart drop to his stomach.

In a quiet, calm whisper, you explain, “I can’t. I have Penny and other people here that I care about. For god sake, I have money I've been saving for years in that apartment, all our stuff is there, I can’t just leave and not come back.”

The desperation in his voice is now out in the open. “I know. I wasn’t expecting that, but I’m working on her now, too. You just have to trust me.”

For a second, he lets himself swell with hope, but your deep, despondent sigh crumbles him right back down to where he started.

“Gguk…” you start, but he can’t bear to hear it, leaning down to meet your hesitant eyes straight on. Distress clouds his watery pupils as he implores you with every ounce of sincerity he can muster to the surface for you. He doesn’t know how else he can make you see he’s being more honest now than he ever has been in his life.

“It’s okay if you can’t forgive me. I understand, and I’ll never stop being sorry. And, and I’m sorry for how I acted when I saw you again, but I was just so scared.” His lip trembles as he searches for eyes for something, anything. “I didn’t know what I was supposed to do because I was so scared of what you’d say and how you’d feel and I thought if I acted like it was fine, it wouldn’t hurt as bad.”

He swallows on a dry mouth, trying not to stammer but his heart denying him that ability.

“I, I thought about you every day. Every day. And I knew it was complicated and everyone told me I should just let go and, and I just couldn’t! I just knew it was you. It was always you. And I am so, so sorry I made you feel it wasn’t.”

By now, you can’t restrain your tears, no matter how hard you clench your teeth or comfort your face. In a moment of deep affliction, there’s no other place to turn but him. The second you pull him to you is relief synonymous with the feeling of when a battered castaway finally spots a plane coming for their rescue; it is joint.

“I wish I could trust you, Jeongguk,” Sobs muffled by his comforting chest, you cry, ”But I don’t know if I can do that. I want to believe you so bad, but I… I don’t know if it’s worth it.”

The comforting warmth of his body is a mean juxtaposition against the harsh sobs that rack through it. Jeongguk smells of something sweet and nostalgically familiar, like sunny beach days spent down by the salty water, plucking seashells from the sand and digging for hermit crabs once the waves pull away from the shore. Light sunscreen and grainy memories that flash by as your brain slides through like film.

“That’s okay,” he mumbles into your hair. Your will splinters in his arms. “Just think about it. That’s all. Just think about it.”

Though you nod against him in shaky assent, it’s not a promise.

☆☆☆

Not the next day, but the day after, is when you decide to make your move.

The casino is a home base, hidden in plain sight. Not even that - crowded by the public eye, and yet not a suspicion raised despite its astronomical numbers being reported over the past few months. Sure, it was bustling full of rich men in need of something to spend their money on, but not enough to sustain those incredible reports.

And under that brittle, flimsy assumption comes your similarly brittle, flimsy plan. Go in, see what you can see. Scout for suspicious activity, chat up drunk patrons and loosen their lips, explore the building a bit. See what you see.

Your fingers are nimble, but your prickling nerves make them fumble as you try the clasp on your necklace. The nail on your pointer can’t seem to hold the small lever down for long enough, even when you twist the chain around so you can lean forward to do it in the mirror. You even consider just tossing it to the side and going without the necklace.

Jeon, standing awkwardly to the side and already having fixed his sleeves in place countless times, glances over to you in the mirror briefly. You sigh when you catch his hesitant watch in the reflection - his shy offer goes unspoken, just a reminder that it’s there if you want to take it. All it takes is a minuscule top of your head to give in.

Resisting Jeongguk is like resisting gravity. It pulls you down sooner or later, no matter how high or far you push yourself off. But at the end of the day, it keeps you grounded.

His footsteps are barely audible on the carpet as he approaches timidly. Light on his feet, as always. You surrender the ends of the necklace to him and tug the pendant back around to the front. The pads of his fingertips are rough as they drag lightly across your skin in the exchange, igniting a flaming feeling in their path. You can feel the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as he pushes them out of the way with the back of his hand. Considering his extensive training and incredible eye, you’re sure he notices it, but you’re grateful he doesn’t say anything.

You try not to let your eyes wander in the mirror for too long. For your excursion tonight, your dress is one of the best you own - a simple, dark satin gown with a generous leg slit to steal some eyes, but not enough to make you uncomfortable. The deep cowl neck is flattering in its pristine v-shape, especially with the way the pendant hangs itself just above.

Jeon is sporting all black. His shirt is ironed smoothly, fitting well over his shoulders and tucked with care into his trousers and secured with a sturdy belt. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows to reveal his skin, tattoos peeking out in a shamelessly appealing way, and the collar…

Okay, too much. You’ll go into sensory overload if you look any longer. He’s caught onto it, the way a smirk creeps onto his face. He lingers a second longer after he’s clasped the jewelry in place. The Gguk you know flicks his eyes up quickly and throws a small, short smile your way, hands reluctant to pull away as they take the time to drift over your bare shoulders.

You clear your throat, taking the initiative to get on your way. He hides the way his spirit dips at the rejection, but he knows he can’t expect more. Once you’re outside and have locked the door behind you, the night air hits you, cool and fresh and promising. But for what exactly, you can’t be sure.

☆☆☆

The Belvedere is one of the most expensive-looking places in the city - in the months since you’d last worked a case around the gambling district, it had certainly been renovated. At the very front, the casino’s name glows light blue in a thin font while large ivory columns hold up a wide intricate ceiling to shade the pavilion. A wall of luxe glass doors lines the entrance, so sparkly and reflecting you think it can’t be just glass.

As inviting as the front entrance seems, it is not your way in. Too many scrutinizing eyes, too many cautious cameras, too much security for your type of job. That leads you to the side of the building, a small alley between buildings with one side entrance. The agency already looped the footage twenty minutes ago just to be safe.

But of course when you try it, it’s locked.

“And… what now? They’ll notice if we just break in.”

Jeon shrugs. “Maybe not until a little while. Besides, we’re covered.” His pointer finds the camera up above the two of your for reference.

“I’d rather hold off on the damage we do.”

As he racks his brain for another option, your brain tunes in to the muted sound of shoes on linoleum. He raises a question just as you put your ear to the door but your shush quiets him immediately. The footsteps are coming your way.

Just as you feel the door about to open, you tug Jeon to the side next to the door’s hinge, pulling him down by his collar into a kiss. The door opens loudly and his hands, after his initial shock dissipates, find themselves on your waist as your own snake their way around his neck. You make sure one hand covers the side of his face generously and that your hair masks your own, meanwhile Jeon can’t help himself from getting swept up in you.

A guard, you think it is, halts when he sees the two of you, but takes it off his radar when he can no longer stand to watch your shamelessness. Or rather, Jeon’s shamelessness. His lips persistently press themselves to yours, nipping and pulling all the while his large hands push into your waist. Something about it makes you think it’s not just for a distraction.

The man shakes his head and turns the opposite direction, walking out toward the street. Before the heavy door falls closed behind him, you reach an arm out to grab the handle. Jeon pulls back slowly, blinking dumbfoundedly. He never thought you’d do such a thing - but clearly, it wasn’t such a thing to you by the way you were grinning like you’d only told a joke. He swallows, mentally slapping himself in a note to get himself together. You’re already stepping inside, and he picks up to follow suit.

You follow the hallway down the main room, and no one raises any concern, probably unable to sense suspicion in their state of inebriation. The two of you weave your way through crowds of people with too much money to spend, quietly thinking of how easy it would be to pickpocket them - but that’s for another time.

A quick scan of the room provides you with the bar, rows of slot machines, pool tables, and a large lounge area filled with the sounds of mindless chatter and glasses clinking. You order drinks to blend in, nothing alcoholic, because as much as you wish you could get drunk and have fun in a casino, that wasn’t the reason you were here. Jeon hands you your coke with a practiced movement.

In a cheesy sort of cheers, he says, “To… the Lion and the Scorpion? Or is that too soon?” He purses his lips, half scared you’ll agree its too soon. It’s relief when he hears the laugh he missed so dearly.

“Not too soon, just a little embarrassing.” You clink your glass to his and take a sip. Jeon leads you over to the dartboards in excitement, one of his favorites to partake in. He chooses the one at the end of the row so you can stand beside him, supposedly to be impressed by his skills and praise him.

“God, this reminds me of Macau,” he sighs out contently. His coffee eyes roam around the large expanse of the hall, seeming to glitter under the crystal chandeliers hanging above you as he walks back from the controls, darts in hand. He gets into position and throws his first, landing for two points in the ring of red. As if you didn’t already know, he adds, “I loved Macau.”

You scoff. “What, because of the way our covers were blown and we had to massacre the lobby, or the sex?”

“Why not both?” He shrugs, smirk creeping onto his face. Another dart leaves his grip, expert aim leading right to the bullseye.

You take another sip of your drink. “Careful,” you warn, “Can’t be too good at this. It comes with questions.”

He hums, and you wonder if he’s even listening. “And you still had blood on your chest. Weirdly sexy.” His eyes narrow jokingly as he speaks just low enough so only you can hear it, and the reaction it pulls from you is exactly what he wanted when he starts to laugh. He lets go of his last dart with a shake of his head, either at the memory or his bad throw that says he’s going fishing.

He turns back to you. At your annoyed expression, he takes another swig of his drink and leans down to your ear. “Seriously though. That was hot.”

You roll your eyes before sending a scowl his way. “I’ll make sure to be extra messy tonight, just for you.” Your eyes crinkle peevishly. The sarcastic tone doesn’t escape him, but he does look hopeful.

“Hey, speaking of, this could be my New Macau. If you’re feeling frisky after the mission.” He throws you a flirtatious wink. While your poker face implies disinterest, your stomach is somersaulting head over heels, and you have a feeling he knows it by the way his eyes linger on you when you raise your glass to your lips.

The phone in your purse vibrates. It’s a text from Yeji - need to get a move on. Jeon already has your gaze when you look back to meet him, but he knows it’s time from your expression alone. With a small nod, he goes up to end the game on the machine’s screen. Instead of coming back to you, though, he subtly taps your arm as he walks past and heads off to the door of the main floor, disappearing from your sight. You wait for a good thirty seconds, let people pass across the camera view at random, before hopping down from the barstool to follow in his footsteps.

You find him waiting in a secluded hallway, away from crowds or casino-regulars. He looks solemn, back pressed against the wall, and you have a feeling that what he has to say might upset you. He thinks so, too.

“Listen, you have to make a decision now. Before we split up, because there’s a chance I might not see you after this.”

You shrug. “I haven’t decided yet.” His eyebrows draw together as he gives you a pleading expression. His eyes flick to both sides of the hall before coming back to you, releasing a deep breath before pushing his hair from his eyes.

“I gave you the time, Y/N. You have to before it’s too late.” Jeon gulps, fumbling for the words. “Just come with me, please. I know it’s a lot to ask and I know you’re scared but you can trust me. I can help you.”

“No, Gguk. You don’t get it - It’s not possible. It’s not an option.” You sigh in resignation. A depleted smile surfaces as you shake your head. “Not in this life.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You did it once, you can do it again.”

“I’m not… I- I won’t. Y/N, please…” His lip quivers, his eyes glossing over.

He can’t accept the answer your silence provides. It’s not enough, not something he’s willing to endure. If it’s going to be a no, he has to hear it loud and clear.

He purses his lips tight. “I’ll flip a coin then.”

“...What?”

“I’ll flip a coin. Heads, you come with me. Tails, I’ll go,” he says shakily, swallowing, “...and I’ll never speak to you again.”

Before you can stop him, he’s wiping away the tears that have not yet had the chance to escape and aggressively fishing a quarter from his pocket, placing it on the tip of his thumb. Desperation burns in him, but you’re paralyzed. All you can do is stare, a fish out of water being held in the grip of an angler who just can’t let go. Or maybe one that’s urging you back out to sea.

His thumb flicks and the coin flies, the sound barely audible in this corner of the building but piercing to your ears. It flips in the air, every rotation executed with purpose - in that moment, as its arc nearly completes, the thought strikes you like lightning and without a second thought, you hand reaches up and snatches it midair.

Jeon is awestruck. He searches for something to say as his fountain of hope runs dry.

Weakly, you mutter, “Okay.” Its compliance, but a strange relief that makes you feel guilty the second it washes over you.

“Okay?”

“I’ll come.”

A tight-lipped smile spreads on his face - it’s the best he can do after such stress. In a heartbeat, he embraces you tightly, broad shoulders enveloping your form. His grip is familiar and only full of good things, even if it might suffocate you. His long, wavy locks brush lightly against your jaw as he buries his face in your neck. For once, you let yourself have that rare moment of comfort.

“I won’t let you down,” he says, a vocal assurance for himself maybe more than for you. He thinks that maybe he shouldn’t say it, but he has to. “I promise.”

It’s his first small triumph tonight. If nothing else, it is a debt repaid. He won’t push for more. He pulls back, lets you fix your hair and readjust your dress.

“Let’s get a move on. I’ll search the main floor, you take a look around the building. Keep in touch.”

You’re about to turn away from him, but his arm catches your wrist at the last second. When you look back to see what he has to say, he has trouble finding the right words.

“Listen… Y/N, I don’t know what it is, but I have this awful feeling. And I’m trying to ignore it, I know I’m probably just nervous, but I just want you to know in case. You don’t have to say anything…”

The hair framing your face bounces as your head begins to shake, trying to deny him before he can even say it. “No, Gguk, I know-”

“No. I...I love you. And you gotta know that, no matter what happens.” His thumb traces small circles on the patch of skin where yours meets your index. Before you have a chance to respond, he gives your hand a tight squeeze and plants a chaste kiss to your cheek, lips plush and sweet against your dimple, his last action as your token of remembrance.

He doesn’t know why he feels so frail as he walks away, wiping away the wetness leaking from his eyes as he tries to calm himself down. Maybe it’s the lack of information, maybe it’s you possibly being in danger again. He tries to push it down as he struggles to resist the urge to look back at you; He’s just all up in his head, right? You can defend yourself, you’ll be fine without him, he reassures himself. You can make rope from kitchen twine.

You’re stuck on your own as the distance between you grows, heart racing as your time to say it back runs out like sand in an hourglass. In less than seconds, his figure has already disappeared around the corner.

A delicate finger reaches up to press the small button on the spyware piece tucked behind your ear. The whisper is low but you mean every syllable, regardless of the leftover turmoil that has consistently tempted you into anger the past few years - “I love you, Jeongguk.”

It’s a shot in the dark for you without his physical presence, but he hears it. It’s barely audible, but he hears it, and rings in his mind for moments after. It makes him feel right, like the moment when everything sifts into the bowl perfectly, no clumps of doubt left behind in the minuscule metal crosshatches. Even if just for a few seconds, the feeling of relief stays frozen in time.

You’re on your way back to the main hall when a buzz from your purse alerts you to an unknown number calling your phone. Typically you’d let it ring, thinking it was spam - but considering this was an agency phone, that wouldn’t make much sense. Your finger hovers over the green accept button, hesitantly pressing down and lifting it to your ear.

The response is immediate. “The Scorpion,” a man on the other end addresses you, sounding much too enthusiastic for your taste. His voice is masked with a changer, the tone fluctuating as he speaks. “I’m glad you could make it tonight. I’ve spent a lot to make this place nice.”

The theatrics elicit an impatient eye roll from you. “Who is this?”

“Who do you think? You’re a smart cookie. There’s a reason they call you the Scorpion, isn’t there?”

He lets the pause marinate and continues, “I actually wanted to meet with you. I need to discuss something vital to you in person, but you’ll have to do some things for me first.”

You begin to turn around, spinning on your heels and intent on heading to Jeongguk downstairs, but the voice on the phone stops you. “Where do you think you’re going?”

You freeze, an eyebrow raising at the voice’s inquiry. Keen eyes scan quickly, landing on the faceless lens of a security camera -

“It’s my casino. Of course I can see what you’re doing.”

A skeptical breath escapes you, squinting at the camera focused on your position. “...What do you want?”

“I just want to talk.” It’s casual.

“How do I know it’s not a trap?” “You don’t. But you don’t have any other option, really. If you need convincing… why don’t you check your home security?”

The dubious persona falters as your heart stops. It couldn’t be. You exit the call and open the app on your phone right away, and a sinking feeling hits you like a truck on the freeway, full speed and with reckless abandon. The view from the camera, grey and grainy, displays the apartment in pieces, furniture overthrown and papers scattered. The dread crawls up your spine as your worst nightmare, the one thing you always prayed for despite the lack of faith, comes to life; Penny is gone.

You call the number back.

“What now?” you say, jaw clenched. trying to calm your breathing.

“Take out your earpiece, toss it to the floor, and crush it. I need to protect my location somehow, right? Just a precaution.”

You slowly remove the receiver from its spot nestled in around your ear, thumbing the tiny matte black tech. It’s your connection to the outside, to safety. It’s your connection to Jeongguk. But the Falcon has played his cards right, leaving you with no other option. It falls from your fingertips, clatters to the linoleum, and you crush it underneath your heel.

“Now, your weapons. My guards will come to escort you - hand over your gun and any knives you may have on you. I know you’re sneaky, but now… really isn’t the time. I’ll see you in a bit.” A cold click ends the call and he’s gone.

On cue, two masked men dressed in all black emerge. They don’t frighten you, you know you could take them if you needed to. However, the priority is Penny, so you have to. You surrender your weapons and phone to them, and then they begin to shuffle you away to wherever the Falcon had made his nest.

Despite the nerves prickling like electric shocks, uneasiness itches in the back of your mind. Something about the phone call - was it the strange familiarity that made you feel so nauseous? You couldn’t quite place your finger on what was so off, on what about it pulled the alarm, but something besides the obvious situation at hand was wrong.

☆☆☆

Jeongguk doesn’t have much to go off of. He’s looking for something, anything, that can clue him in. He finds a creepy looking stairwell and decides to take it down. That’s how you find everything in need of being found, right? By following what feels off?

He comes to a storage room full of dusty metal shelves, all lined with boxes upon boxes. He takes a quick sweep of the room, shrugging to himself before delving into one. It’s just piles of text he doesn’t understand, pages and pages of orders and receipts dating back years and years. Maps of the building, information of repairs and inventory and renovations. It doesn’t mean anything useful, until he sees orders under names that ring a bell.

But from where? People he went to school with, maybe? For the life of him, he can’t remember where he knows them from.

He’s frantically flipping through pages, pulling boxes from the shelves and trying his best to read under the dim light. It’s not making any sense, until he lands on orders filed under the name… Jeon?

He freezes, all alone in the middle of a storage room full of thousands of documents, a sickly feeling washing over him.

A trembling hand reaches up to press the button on his earpiece.

“Y/N? I think I just found something.”

He waits, and no response from you.

“...Y/N?”

☆☆☆

The penthouse is in the heart of the city, just a few blocks away from the Belvedere. The view is enough to tell it to you - it overlooks miles of blinking lights and busy streets with which you have an archetypal love-hate relationship with.

You’ve stepped fresh off the elevator into an open room that is in dire need of an interior decorator, or at the very least some basic furnishing. It’s basically empty, the dark hardwood floors even coated with a light layer of dust. Nothing except the moon and the fireplace at the other end of the room illuminate the space.

There’s shuffling, and the guards on either side of you are grabbing firmly onto your arms.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You struggle against them, fighting to get out of their grip, but one of them mutters how it’ll be better for you if you cooperate. You strain against the instinct to escape, every bone in your body screaming disgusted by the forced submission. Handcuffs click into place, and pressure on your shoulders pushes you to your knees. Then, they resign themselves to the back corners of the room.

A door creaks open at the far side of the room. The man sports a dark coat that obscures his figure, and long, dark hair hangs over the man’s face. His steps are slow and calculated on the wooden floor as he makes his way to the fire. Slender, practiced fingers grab onto the poker and stir the fire, glowing orange embers soaring in a blizzard of an inferno. A silver ring glints in the moonlight - one you’d recognize anywhere.

The details flood back, chains of connections like dominoes tipping over the edge of gut-wrenching betrayal -

“...Boss?”

The man pauses, followed by a sudden clasp of his hands in… delight?

He spins on the heel of his oxfords to face you, hair sweeping back as he smiles at you.

“Keen as ever, my dear. You truly are the Scorpion. I know how you feel about your title, but you’re deserving of it.”

A shaky breath leaves your throat, eyes stinging as you make out a low, “What is this?”

At the sight of your panic, the boss hurries over to you, making a show of how he takes your jaw in his hands. Though you flinch, he wipes the escaping tear with a calloused thumb.

“No, dear, no need to cry! This doesn’t have to be difficult. You are just leverage - you won’t be hurt as long as what needs to happen, happens.” The way he shakes his head, the twisted compassion in his eyes, makes you sick.

“Then where’s Penny?”

His sigh is accompanied by a sad smile. “Penny is the leverage over you. In case you get any funny ideas.”

“For what? What is this about?” you press, “What about the Syndicate, huh? Aren’t you gonna tell me what this is for?”

A rush of air, and then a sharp pressure on your throat. The Boss’s blade creeping up your throat - a small burn as he nicks your skin.

“I’d watch my mouth if I were you. You should remember where your loyalties lie.”

You swallow thickly, and he continues.

“The Syndicate is real. Their presence in this city is real - but we are on good terms with them. I help them, they help me. They sacrifice a few men because they do what’s needed for the terms of the agreement, just like us.”

He blew up a building, ransacked the agency, led you on a wild goose chase in search of a threat that didn’t exist? There was always something psychotic about the Boss, that’s why he instilled so much fear in you - his lack of empathy, the lengths he’d go just for a show of power, but a ploy like this?

“And what’s that got to do with me?”

He scoffs. “It’s not about you, my dear. It never was. It’s about your connection to who it is about…”

His grin grows inverse to your pained frown, lips quivering as the realization dawns on you. “Jeongguk.”

“You’re the link, Y/N. I know how much you hate to love him. Only if you were forced to for the sake of the city. The reconnection wouldn’t be easy, but that boy is persistent, and the moment he heard you say those words back, it was sealed.”

You’re choked by the weight of his words crashing down on your throat. It’s horrifying, the way the tears well up and spill recklessly, finding it hard to breathe with your arms restrained. You focus your hardest on the effort to stay conscious, but the nausea is eating away at you.

“He was honest, too. He’s tried multiple times to fish you out of here. And it always rubbed me the wrong way. He’ll leave me behind, but not you? You’re my best, Y/N, but I despise you simply because of what your existence means.”

“You’re going to kill him?” you bite your lip to hold back the sob trying to crawl its way from your chest.

The Boss blinks, tilting his head in a faked compassion. “Only if he makes the same mistake again.”

An alert sounds out from his pocket. He fishes out his phone and holds it up to show you a map with a green dot steady on a location, seemingly yours.

“And it looks like we’ll find out right about… now.”

The elevator behind you opens, and the guards point their guns straight at the figure stepping off. His gun is held up protectively, but he has nowhere to go, face falling as he reads the situation - reads the pain on your face as you stare back at him on the floor.

He lowers his pistol, glaring at the man waiting smugly in front of him.

“Nice to see you again, Jeongguk.”

His lip turns down in disgust, spitting rancor -

“Can’t say the same for myself, Dad.”

☆☆☆

The tension in the air is tight, like a thousand strings of yarn pinned wall to wall and floor to ceiling and impossible to maneuver. The Boss tsks at the cold reunion, more bitter than he had hoped.

“What, you didn’t miss me all these years? I raised you, after all.”

“Raised me?” Jeongguk scoffs incredulously. “Try training me into your personal pawn, like some fucked up trophy for you to flaunt.”

“It was only so you could someday take my spot, son. I treated you the same way my father did me.”

The bitter timbre of his voice is laced with venom, so uncharacteristic of the Jeongguk you know. “Well, I worked out my daddy issues with a therapist. Maybe you should give it a shot. You should also probably mention how fucked up you are to plan a scheme like this just to bring me here.”

“You left, Jeongguk. I’d do anything for my son.”

“Oh, please-”

A loud click, and cool metal pressed against your forehead. Jeongguk freezes, and he knows the stakes. His blood boils from the blatant manipulation. There was a reason he left - he hated feeling this exact moment, and he hated reliving it even more. It was a place he thought he’d never be in again.

The Boss rolls his eyes again. “Always with something to say, forgetting I’m your elder, your father no less. Plan on letting me speak soon?”

His eyes are as cool as Jeongguk’s now. Dark, disappeared from dramatic frills or drawn-out tones. The resemblance is stunning, strikes fear in your heart, both physical and the mannerisms long-buried by time now resurfaced by each other.

When you meet the Boss’s eyes, they show no remorse for someone he claimed thinks of as his best.

Jeongguk’s eyes flick down and back up. Cooperation.

“Thank you.” He pulls the gun away, letting you catch a breath. “It’s simple, son. You agree to come back, and everything goes smoothly. If not, you won’t be leaving this room alive, and neither will she. Can’t have my trump cards playing against me.”

“Leave her out of this.”

“She’s the reason you’re here, how could I leave her out of this?”

“This is you and me. Not her.”

His father muses the idea, chews it up, spits it out. “Okay,” he grins. “Just us. I’d say go until one surrenders, but that’s not how us Jeons do it. If you can kill me, you’re free to do what you want.”

The guards lower their weapons, leaving the room at a snap of the Boss’s fingers, and Jeongguk’s grip on his tightens, knuckles turning white as he nods sharply in agreement. He’s been caught, a three-year-long game of cat and mouse finally come to a standstill. The man he looks at is just another cruel, cold-hearted crook on a power trip. The last thing he wants to do is fight him, because as skilled as Jeongguk might be, his father is equally such. He also has the upper hand: No feelings of remorse.

But he sees you on the floor, and when it comes to your life on the line, he knows he’d do anything. No matter the risk or the cost, he’d play a losing hand if he had to, if just to keep the fear from your mind. He steps past you, eyes speaking of reassurance when they meet yours, but it’s not a promise.

Once Jeongguk has made his way around you to the center of the room, the Boss’s attention falls to you.

“Hear that, dear? This is a family issue. But in case you need any more convincing…”

The same door he creaked through minutes ago flies open, and in shuffles two people. Penny’s figure mirrors your own, arms tied behind her back. Her eyes are red and puffy, hair mussed and clothes wrinkled. There’s no blood or bruising visible, but it kills you the second you lay eyes on her. Your chest heaves silently, panic rising as she is brought in front of the fireplace, led by… Yeji?

The sleek, dark ponytail is unmistakable, and her cat eyes flick over to you in guilt as your words confirm her presence.

“I’m sorry,” she mouths, tears clouding her eyes. “I didn’t know.”

It was impossible to believe how easily everything was collapsing. Maybe your foundations were not as strong as you once thought. Wasn’t it just a week ago you had last spoken to her, taken her advice on working with Jeongguk?

“Again. No need for anyone to get hurt as long as you don’t interfere.”

But would Yeji hurt Penny, even at the Boss’s command? Was she that scared of him? Penny finds you, and you try your best to communicate reassurance, but you fall short. She trembles in fear the same as you.

Without warning, the Boss’s blade flies across the room. Jeongguk side steps, but the red gash sliced along his cheek taunts him for being a second too late. He reaches up a finger to dab at the blood in awe.

His anger fuels him forward. He raises his gun, ringing out shots that bury themselves in the drywall as he closes the gap. The Boss dodges each one. Slender fingers pull the gun from its holster, firing back immediately, glass shattering behind the younger.

Jeongguk zig zags on his feet, blade swinging up viciously at his father while he pulls the trigger in his left hand. The Boss is quick despite his age, no hesitation to his wide, ruthless swings. Jeongguk ducks and spins, changing their positions, knocking a knife from his grasp.

The man laughs. “That was good, but you can do better!” he yells, evading Jeongguk’s relentless swipes. As he taunts, a shard of glass reaches your vicinity. “Or are you too scared to hurt your old man?”

Your fingers bleed hot as you force the shard into the keylock, lifting up the metal lever.

It only fuels Jeongguk’s fire. A firm kick to the chest sends the Boss stumbling back. Jeongguk progresses, his knife dropping around in his grip, taking the slim moment to drive a sharp ice pick stab to his father's shoulder.

His eyes flick to you, and he doesn’t have the time to pull it back out. His father parries his left wrist outward and the gun is knocked from his fingertips, skidding to the floor, arriving kindly right in front of you. A single shot blasts out and Jeongguk lets out a clipped yelp. Your wrists free from the lock and reach for the solution just inches away.

But it’s already checkmate. The Boss’ blade is pressed up against Jeongguk’s throat, who is on his knees as he clutches at his thigh, crimson seeping through his fingers.

“Has the Lion been tamed since I last saw him?” The Boss mocks. There is nowhere for Jeongguk to go. “I’m disappointed, son. Love has made you weak.”

It steals the breath from your lungs. His eyes dart to your figure, mirroring his son’s actions just moments ago. He dares you to make a move. With his play, you can’t.

But that’s where the Boss is wrong. The man void of love sees it as a shot with a predetermined course from point A to point B, easily interfered with by the right tools, by the right move. However, love should not be mistaken for something meager. It’s an ever-weaving thread, crossing and connecting each and every way. Love does not have to be star-crossed and dire, it is not always a fated, tragic romance. There is no one love to outlast all others - not when it can be one you choose.

Yeji meets your eyes from across the room. The Boss has only a bluff catcher against her, the mistake of expecting loyalty before knowing for sure. It’s a twisted collusion that you never would have chosen, but it’s not your hand to play anymore.

Her vision is blurry through her tears. Yeji takes a breath she’s sure will be her last and releases it shakily. She has to do it now. She thinks of every other woman roped into his scheme, every future Penny that will be taken if it doesn’t end here, and she knows you can do it, because she was never strong enough to.

“Forgive me,” she croaks.

An enraged bellow leaves the Boss, but all too late. She has already fired, breaking the lock that has held you captive all these years. A scream rips from your throat as Penny’s body falls forward and collapses to the hardwood.

Yeji is shredded by the entourage of bullets ripping from the Boss’s gun. She stumbles back, hits the wall, sinks to the floor.

Your hands instinctively reach for the weapon in front of you, hands fumbling as you pull the trigger with the weight of a thousand lives behind your index alone. The Boss falls, knife slipping from his fleeting grip, the third and final seal to the game.

The silence is stunning. Nothing feels real. It’s all shock before the pain rushes in, the inability to breath, the feeling of drowning. It’s utter anguish as you fight to the other side of the room, but Jeongguk holds you back. Pushing past him, only for him to spin you around and make you look him in the eye.

“We have to go,” he says through gritted teeth, voice cracking. His eyes plead with you as they blink away tears. Blood coats his hands, urgently dripping down his wrists as they grip yours. “Y/N, we have to go.”

It dawns just as the day on the glowing horizon behind him that it’s over, but there is no victory in sight.

☆☆☆

The coming days are a whirlwind. Most of the time you’re numb, finding yourself stuck in your mind replaying memories over and over, and wincing to pull yourself out of them to the real world that is not much better. The funerals are a blur, long and tiring processions of black and sympathies you are not capable of accepting that leave your head pounding by the time you finally can sleep. But the dream world is not as kind to you as you would have hoped.

It isn’t the memory of her death. It’s the memory of her smile, bright and tender, that could not see another day to shine. You haven’t stepped foot in the apartment yet. You will at some point, but not yet.

Yeji is another story. It’s a moral dilemma of what your inner compass tells you is wrong and your love for the only friend you ever had. Yeji was not bad, you know that. But it was murder, and perhaps that was why it did not go unpunished. Were her actions the results of weakness, or strength? Of personal desire, or wide-scale consideration? You could spend hours wondering whether things might have been different if she hadn’t done it, but at the end of the day, you would never get the chance to know.

In the meantime, the mafia is collapsing. Those who wanted to leave took their chance the second the news of the Boss’s death came in. Ran away to other cities, shelters, anywhere they could to get away from the struggle of the organization. Others who had nothing else are stranded picking up the pieces. They won’t be able to make a comeback, you know that. They’ll turn to other forms of crime, maybe even those that you’ll have to face again in the future.

You can get away from it all for a few moments of peace, but not much more.

Jeongguk’s apartment is close to the marina. He’s lucky for such a beautiful view. This early in the morning, the world is silent, relaxing without the mindless bustling of life. Boats float calmly across the harbor, sails reaching up to the sky streaked with blossoming pinks and clement oranges. Daybreak’s retiring light glitters as it touches the surface of the water with a gentle hand.

The glass door slides open slowly behind you, and Jeongguk’s presence enters to calm your thoughts. The slight limp in his step is barely visible, and he’s lucky that his father’s bullet avoided his femoral artery. If it did, he’d probably be in a much more dire situation than he has now. Since that night, rumors have surfaced that the Boss missed due to nervousness, or fear. Jeongguk knows that his father’s aim was too sharp to miss, and also that he was a hypocrite.

He takes a seat in the chair beside yours. His hair is mussed from a long night of tossing and turning, the same as yours.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you mutter, tongue coated with exhaust.

He hums. “Me neither.”

The flux of air from his sturdy chest is a comfort that relieves the pain for just a little while. Lifts it away like a fog being cleared, and the weight falls off your shoulders so you can breathe again. His eyes swim with affection, and you’re sure that a thousand particles of stardust must be locked away behind his irises.

It never fails to amaze you how Jeongguk always seems to know what you’re thinking. “It’s not your fault,” he says.

“I know.” It’s weak, barely a whisper. Your head drops to your palms despite your claim. “But it really feels like it.”

He takes a deep breath, atmosphere placid and unassuming. “You did everything you could. Some things are just out of your control, no matter what you do. It’s not fair, but just because you couldn’t stop something bad from happening doesn’t mean you caused it.”

You swallow blearily. “I just don’t even know where to go from here. It’s never going to be the same. So what do I do now?”

“I don’t know,” he speaks gingerly, “Maybe you should get out of here. Start again, somewhere else. I’ll probably do the same eventually.”

Your head begins to shake at the thought.

“I don’t want you to go,” you pause. “I told you that.”

Jeongguk softens. “Oh… okay. I, I won’t then.”

Finally, your head raises to see him properly. His calm guise masks the need of reassurance beneath. “I mean it. Do you remember when you said to tell you the next time so it didn’t land on what I didn’t want?”

He nods slowly.

“When it was in the air, there was just this split second watching it that it hit me. I knew what I wanted. Despite everything,” the corners of your mouth upturn, but not all that happily, “I wanted to choose you.”

Dark, wavy hair falls in front of his eyes, brushing at the healing cut that will certainly leave a scar. His gaze is tender and soft and all that’s good in this world. He looks at you like you’re the only thing he’s ever wanted. And if you asked him, he wouldn’t hesitate to agree.

“I forgive you, Jeongguk. For everything, I don’t care. I’d go through it again and again if I had to.” A fleeting smile pushes the tears from their deep wells. “‘Cause I need you.”

Jeongguk suffered the subtle heartbreak of unknowing for years on end. He’d sit on his balcony just like this, mild evenings under the setting sun, knowing you were out there living under the same sky as him, yet so far apart. He thought of you crossing city streets, breathing the air of the home you loved and hated simultaneously, maybe even sitting out on the fire escape of your own apartment. You were within a radius of just miles, which sounds like nothing compared to how far he’d go for you.

He saw you everywhere. Saw you in every crevice and crack of the city. When the sun was shining brightly, when rain poured like bullets. From the window of the train, from the coffee shop. Retracing his routine steps was hard when he always saw your footprints right beside his own.

It was the feeling he’d been waiting on. At last, he feels contentment in his chest. It’s all he’s ever wanted. His pulse stutters as he thinks that he might just be dreaming, but when he reaches out to touch your clasped hands, steady fingers curling over yours, he knows it’s real. You’re real. It’s pure, unadulterated sunshine splintering over his soul.

Jeongguk stands, holding out his hand for you to take. He pulls you up with care and tugs you into his embrace, warm and kind. His arms around you are safe and sound, and the gentle beat of his heart eases the noise in your mind. It’s the heart that wouldn’t quit on you, the one the angels must either admire or envy. It’s the only thing that feels okay.

One day, things will be better. It’s far away and hard to grasp, but it’s there, waiting for you. Things that are meant to be will find a way, no matter how long it takes, just as Jeongguk and you found your way to this very balcony. But for now, sharing the weight of a heavy heart soothes the lonesome burden of loss, and what it means to love.

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woodzwrites · 5 years ago

Text

good to me | song mingi

► genre: enemies to lovers!au, high school!au; angst, fluff

► pairing: reader x mingi

► word count: 8.8k

► warnings: explicit language, underage drinking/alcohol

everyone has had their fair share of first times. but for you, this surely wasn’t your first time attempting to get half-wasted: drunk enough to have fun with your friends who aren’t as half as giddy and energized as they are during the school day, but to also be able to drive back home safely before midnight and fall sound asleep in your room as if nothing happened. and it’s not your first time at mingi’s high-scale hilltop pad. everyone knows that he probably came from a line of old money, but he was never treated like the new kid. miraculously, he immediately fit in when he transferred to your high school in the first year.

you stood on the side of the ping pong table, which had turned into an impromptu beer pong table for the sake of mingi and his friends’ constant gaming bets on each other. your close friend was up against mingi, who was standing on a wooden stool as if he wasn’t already a tree himself. he just had to make sure that everyone knew that this was his house. “y/n! help me out here huh?” she smirks from cheek to cheek and raises her cup too high with a little too much power that a couple of drops of beer spill out. “what am i gonna gain from this?” you shouted at her over the loud trap music. “a chaance!” she shouts even louder than you as she tilts off the side of the table, tipsy. she falls back onto the couch behind you. “jesus....” only she knew about your slight, perhaps very minor, attraction to mingi since... sadly, freshman year. it had gone on and off, but it got worse as you got closer and closer to his friend circle and he started to (at least) acknowledge your presence. you still felt like a nobody to a lot of people but tonight, you wanted mingi to remember your name in the worst way possible. “hey mingi!” you screamed as you raised a solo cup filled with the beer you were still iffy about. he laughs with that stupid smile he’s had for years and squints to see that your friend isn’t there anymore. “y/n, who you tryna fight?” he takes a step down from his stool as he continues laughing. “you, headass.” his friends around the table all boo in unison towards mingi at the outlash from a girl like you. “oh, MY bad. let me put a fight with you, and we’ll see.” “wanna bet?” mingi’s head freezes and turns at you as he realizes, even over the entire commotion of his party, that you stole his line. his iconic line. “you win, you leave. cause i know you wanna leave. you lose, you’re stuck at my house until the crack of dawn until you make this house crystal clean,” he smirks and takes a larger sip of his beer as he gains a little more confidence from talking big with you. he always has. “damn......” almost the entire group around him echoes. “deal.” you smile even brighter at him and toss the first ping pong ball without his cue and immediately make it in. after countless rounds and the commotion around the game room getting louder and rowdier, it’s finished when mingi tosses the last ping pong ball. “KOBE!” splash. an instant win as the ball floats on top of the solo cup, ever so gently on the cheap store-bought beer. everyone around mingi starts crowding around him as if he’s made the nba playoffs of the season, and you flip him off. your friends all laugh it off as you take your last shot of beer, and of course, you join in on the laughter. you text your mom that your friend is taking you and the “girls” out for boba, and that you’ll be home by midnight. yes, you were expected to be home by 10 because you sleep extremely early for a high school upperclassman. instead, you’re stuck with mingi and his dog cleaning up his house—which seems to have no end to it, from what you’ve been sweeping after for almost 30 minutes now—and being the slight gentleman he can at least be, he offers to take you home. “no, it’s fine,” you say from across the humongous kitchen with a swiffer in your hand. “my car’s parked down the street. i’m sober now, so i can drive.” “what, did you sneak out here?” mingi looks up with a questioning look. “maybe, maybe not,” you shrug and continue sweeping. “i didn’t expect the party to end that early,” he sighs and takes a nice, cold glass of water from his (take this) third samsung fridge in the house. “maybe because it’s the middle of summer and people are actually tired? the best parts of summer are when it starts and ends. in the middle, you’re kinda scraping to make plans and do something,” you say from experience. “damn facts,” he laughs and places his elbows on the side of the acrylic island as he gazes at you. you pretend not to notice, but walk farther away from the kitchen. “i’m gonna turn on some music, it’s too quiet.” “aren’t you already sick of being at your own party with the music ten times louder than it should be?” you turn around before you can maneuver away from the living space. “what? can’t hear you!” mingi had already planted his body into the silky soft couch by the fireplace as the spotify sound rang through the room. you dropped the swiffer and called it a night. whatever, his cleaning ladies would come over whenever he would need them. before you could put on your lanyard attached with your car keys, mingi called you. “yo wait.” you didn’t look back. “you never look like you’re having fun at my parties. these are so exhausting for me to try and sneak all of these when my parents are out!” mingi whines. you don’t feel like replying so you flip him off again, signaling to him that every time you get caught up in his summer parties, you always end the night feeling ticked off. “just dance a little.” you roll your eyes at him. “you’re literally one of the best dancers at school, i’ve never seen you dance normally at a party.” the compliment he sneaks in between the conversation makes the heat rise up to your cheeks a little, but somehow, you still find yourself walking back to the living room. “cause maybe,” you step harshly. “i don’t. want to.” “tuff,” he stands up and changes the song to goldlink crew. “how the hell do you want me to dance to this, this is like our chill song.” “damn you listen to my playlists?” you immediately object. “what? no- no, no. i mean like, everyone knows this song but i’m not gonna dance to it.” little did he know that you always listened to his playlists. you guys had similar music taste but you never fully admitted it to him and always said to people that you were open to all genres. in complete and terrible pitch, mingi throws himself around the countertop to face you. “she see money all around me, i look like i’m the man” you roll your eyes at how obnoxious he’s being because it feels as if the party never ended. and yet somehow, you end up cracking up at him as he continuously becomes more and more drunk as the song continues. you tiredly give into singing along. “you came out of hiding, girl don’t act like i’m your man” you point at each other as mingi uses the crushed red solo cups left on the floor and you use the beer cans accidentally thrown into the sink as mics. now you know he’s completely drunk when he decides to stand on the counter top, his 6’1 looking ass nearly touching the ceiling. you try to pull him off by tugging on his arm, but end up losing balance yourself. you almost fall back when mingi comes down in an instant and catches you before you hit your head on the fridge as crew still plays in the background. you’re in this position for what feels like forever, but what hurts more is the fact that mingi has never looked at you like this for more than 3 seconds. you’ve been nothing but an acquaintance to him, maybe even a vision. barely a friend until tonight. from the constant bickering in your friend group, to the multiple plans that both of you have flaked on for being “busy,” many of your friends thought you guys genuinely hated each other. truth is, it’s just that you’ve never had these moments like these with him. the feeling of him getting comfortable with you made you uneasy, but to him, it doesn’t feel foreign. but you thought, hey, seize the moment before the moment seizes you. and everything after that happens in a blur. you grab his wrist to pull him closer and immediately crash into him, eyes already closed. it doesn’t feel foreign at all. it’s almost as if this has already happened in a past life, a deja vu with the same feelings. mingi doesn’t believe what’s happening. the girl he’s always thought of as one of the boys is kissing him right now as if nothing else mattered. and it wasn’t just a normal kiss. it felt like the climax of a kdrama, when the main lead couple finally confesses to one another. a person in the couple is shocked and keeps their eyes open as the kiss unravels, until they finally melt. but mingi didn’t fall so easily. his eyes were indeed open, but the way your hand effortlessly grabbed and fit into his, and the way that everything that just happened in the past 5 minutes seems rehearsed is insane. you’re insane. you know that this doing this would immediately fuck up any kind of friendship or relationship you guys had going on, but you knew that this was the only way to have mingi remember you that summer once and for all. you pull away from the kiss and can barely look him in the eye. he’s looking at you even deeper now, almost as if they’re screaming at you “what the hell just happened.” you brush off his wrist and remind yourself where you’re supposed to be going. fuck, it was probably already midnight. “i.. i. i’m going now,” you shape your left hand like the figure of a prospector’s hand pointing towards a river full of gold. “u-uh. yeah.” “going.” you put on your sneakers and throw around your keys, feeling more conscious than ever now. “b-bye,” you wave and bow to mingi besides the fact that him and you only have a small age difference. “yyeah. bye.” he waves with no emotion. and the first thing mingi does when you close the front door is touch his lips with his fingers to feel that same weird, burning feeling. and though he doesn’t put his hands up against his chest, he can hear his heartbeat beating so loudly and fast in his ears. and the first world that he can spew is: “fuck.” — “you’re off.” “off? who’s off?” mingi smiles at his childhood friend, hongjoong. out of the entire friend group, hongjoong had been the one who had matured greatly and could easily tell whenever his hyungs didn’t feel like themselves. their crazy group has been through a lot, and hongjoong knows he’s spent his high school days well. “i don’t know man, who do YOU think?” he stuffs a french fry in his mouth as mingi, hongjoong, yunho, and wooyoung huddle around a carls jr. table after a summer class lecture. yunho, being the scholar he is, recommended all of his friends to take the early summer classes since they had more space and it generally felt better. but everyone knew he used that as an excuse to sleep in for the rest of the day until he would get wasted at mingi’s house again. “you’re not saying much,” wooyoung shakes his head. “yeah... cause i’m hungry, i don’t know. today’s lecture was boring,” you try to change the topic. “this is the first lecture this summer that you didn’t manage to fall asleep in the first five minutes of. something on your mind, man?” yunho noticed. “no. you guys are so dramatic!” “and this is how he changes the subject. go ahead mingi, tell them you’re having another party tonight for pete’s sake,” hongjoong remarks. “i’m not having a party tonight.” “WHAT?” all the guys go googly-eyed towards mingi. “wh.. why? my dad is coming home tonight,” mingi insists. “you said BOTH your parents were gonna be out all week. yeah, something’s definitely up,” wooyoung immediately directs his attention to his phone to look up nearby cafes because he couldn’t stand eating this cheap fast food anymore. “you stopped texting me at like 1. AND you were drunk, so how did you knock out so easily? you weren’t even on league...” yunho tries to recall all the little details he knew from last night. “i don’t know. it’s kinda foggy but after the party, i remember drinking a little more and then knocking out on my bed.” “that’s... that’s never happened. ever,” wooyoung almost laughs at the statement. silence fills up space on the fast food joint’s table until hongjoong looks up from his phone after scrolling a good amount on instagram. “oh shit. did you...?” “did i...?” yunho catches onto what hongjoong is suggesting immediately. “bro. y/n.” “well like, no. kinda yes but no.” mingi sighs and knows he’s gonna immediately get grilled for this. he doesn’t worry too much, though, he knows that you have probably told at least 5 of your close friends at this point. “when we were cleaning because of that bet, i accidentally tripped, she caught me, and we kissed,” mingi said it so effortlessly, the fact that he said it with no worry in his tone scared the guys even more. “DUDE!!!!!!” chaos amongst almost-grown men in a fast food joint after your third lecture of the month feels unsettling. it feels like he’s in a mirage. ”what the hell are you gonna do now? er i don’t know, maybe cause you have someone named yerin on your dick right now?” yunho’s eyes dilated at the way he said yerin. if yerin ever knew... “apologize or something. we were both drunk, so we just gotta acknowledge that whatever happened in the past is already over.” and you’ve had your fair share of meltdowns. this time around, you haven’t left the house since the party and you still haven’t told your closest friends. and so what? you were busy with summer classes and you didn’t feel the need to hang out or text them. you distracted yourself as much as you could at home, and every time you would have go on campus, you ignored him. you knew damn well that he was there living his best life acting like the kiss probably never happened. because of her. because of the stunning, mysterious yerin. yerin, in short, could probably be the love of mingi’s life. when you first barely befriended him, you only heard and saw bits and pieces of conversation of how much he loved her and how she didn’t reciprocate that love back. and that’s got you thinking. would mingi ever tell yerin about this? it seemed like they “like” each other, but you couldn’t imagine all the tea she would be able to stir up if she ever found out mingi kissed you when first of all, she wasn’t even officially dating mingi. mingi would always hold her hand and look at her like a little puppy, but it was almost as if she was slightly embarrassed by him. you’ve seen the pictures and videos they’ve had together, but it seems like there always had to be a friend there too. it had never been just the two of them. the most unsettling part of their so-called relationship is that every time a dance would come around, yerin had to confirm that they were going out as friends. even when mingi kissed her multiple times when asking her out to prom. confusing, isn’t it? so you’ve been doing well by dwelling at home and attempting to distract yourself in all ways possible and going out with family more. until he texts you. mingi: hey mingi: you free rn? we should talk y/n: uh why mingi: typing... mingi: wdym why mingi: you good mingi: i haven’t seen you at class for a while y/n: yeah y/n: mingi just get straight to the point and don’t waste my time “yikes, she’s fierce. this the same y/n who was the big nerd in first year?” yunho sat next to mingi as he sent these texts as he was the one who convinced him to send them. mingi: have you told anyone about ... y/n: no y/n: i’m being fr mingi cringed before he could finish his thought. “dude, why do i have to say this!” mingi groans as his head falls back on his sofa. “because your ass won’t stop thinking about it. so it’s better if she just lets go of everything right now, and it’ll be good on both of your sides. don’t you have a date with yerin tonight?” yunho asks. “no, she cancelled. she keeps cancelling but she still nods and says hi to me on campus,” mingi wonders. mingi: why did you mingi: er do it y/n: typing... y/n: cause i was drunk headass y/n: i have pretty vague memory past that party but i do remember having to stay longer at your house y/n: i knocked out p badly.. i think i slept in my clothes you held your knees so tightly in bed and bit your fingernails after making up that lame excuse. you were completely sober when that happened, so you’re just gonna act like you knew nothing. y/n: we didn’t...? mingi: oh god nonono “DUDE WHY ARE YOU AVOIDING IT!” yunho groans louder. “because she genuinely doesn’t remember! if she doesn’t remember, it never happened,” mingi justifies his awkward texting. “or maybe, she’s just saying that because she doesn’t wanna get into the talk about yerin. or worse, get this. her feelings for you.” mingi is on the verge of screaming and losing his mind. “since when has she liked me, jesus christ!” “ooo...........” yunho whistles and turns his eyes into the other direction. it was his way of showing through actions to mingi “you absolute complete moron.” mingi: so you good then? mingi: you’re not sick or anything from my party right? y/n: nope y/n: nice talk mingi: uh yeah mingi: nice and that was the last message. “god, that was so exhausting,” you fall back onto your bed before you can scream even louder into your pillow. “dude, you’re fucked,” yunho smirks. “but hey, no date tonight? looks like we’re going to wooyoung’s pad tonight.” he stands up and pulls mingi up from the sofa. “wooyoung? what, are we watching movies tonight?” “no, party tonight. have you completely lost your sense of time?” “oh,” mingi voluntarily nods. he kind of forgot wooyoung still held parties during the summer, but he was more focused at the fact that it’s almost been a week since the kiss. and going to this party became one of the worst decisions if not his life, then this summer. “truth or dare, mingi!” hongjoong, slightly tipsy, shouts amongst the crowd in the outside pool area. “aight, truth,” he raises his cup towards hongjoong. “do you think yerin really fucks with you in that kind of way?” hongjoong laughs and his friends around him echo that same laugh. mingi knows hongjoong wouldn’t pull those type of questions in front of his friends, but it geniunely made him think a little bit. yerin cancelled almost every date this summer, and many of them are without excuses. mingi, being the gentleman he is, lets her and doesn’t ask why. but now, it’s reaching july, and the last time mingi talked to her one-on-one was at an awkward encounter at hongjoong’s place with all of her girl friends. “i mean, yeah, why wouldn’t she?” mingi shrugs and smiles with the side of his mouth. and that question lingered until later that night. mingi has been childhood friends with wooyoung. though they weren’t the closest of the bunch, their families were friends and they always ended up going on vacations together. it wasn’t until high school when wooyoung finally moved to mingi’s school and he immediately fit into his friend group as if he was the missing puzzle piece. he was sure the crowd-pleaser, but mingi knew he was an ambivert, and enjoyed a lot of his time alone, reading a book too. maybe that was why mingi thought he was so eccentric back when they were kids. mingi was exhausted, but it was merely eleven. maybe thursday wasn’t his best party day? mingi: yo woo i’m coming up to your room mingi: i’m gonna play smash on your switch ok he ran upstairs and made a beeline to wooyoung’s room, clearly identified with a poster of the smiths taped up on the front of the white door. he rattled the doorknob and realized it was locked. “silly wooyoung,” mingi knew the trick since they were little. he shook the knob three times and then turned the knob counterclockwise completely until he heard some sort of cracking noise. what he didn’t expect to hear was a moan coming from inside the room. and he doesn’t wanna believe what he sees when he opens the door. “m-mingi.” wooyoung looks up from the bed with disgruntled hair. and there lays yerin, literally fucking him on the bed mingi and wooyoung grew up on. “what the fuck.” “it’s not what it looks like.” “yeah, i’m pretty damn sure it’s not what it looks like when both of you look like you’ve been fucking each other for the past hour.” yerin and wooyoung look at each other after realizing that he’s right. “min-“ wooyoung calls him louder this time. “fuck off.” mingi storms out of the house and goes out the back way so no one can see him leave. he’s always gone this way when he and wooyoung would go on late night skating trips back in middle school, but never in his life would he expect yerin and him together in that situation. angrily, he holds his driving wheel even harder with his fists hardening with each turn. before he gets home, he decides to drive around town, maybe grab a cup of boba before he heads home. anything to distract himself. he heads to the asian strip mall a couple miles away from his neighborhood and parks upfront to the boba shop. and there, he sees you. he doesn’t know whether or not he should be surprised, but it was extremely late and he wanted to ask why you were working this late during the summer. you notice him. and you notice how much longer his face had become since the last time you saw him. something must have happened. you knew that he didn’t even like boba that much! why was he here? “oh, hi mingi,” you gather the last ounce of respect you have for him and wave to him as if everything’s splendid. “hey y/n. could i just, uh, get a wintermelon milk tea. with boba.” “y-yeah. what’s good man? you never come here,” you refuse to make eye contact with him. “yeah uh. rough night. why do you work here?” “summer job. late-night shifts pay more so i thought, hey, why not?” you smile. he hated the fact that you smiled like nothing was wrong all the time. except all the times you’ve smiled like that, there was always something wrong. “can... c-can we talk? are you free?” mingi hands you his money. “oh! uh.. yeah, we can. i can’t take breaks during night shifts but whatever. there’s like 2 dudes in the back, we’ll be fine,” you grin. he never noticed how free-spirited you were until now, and it kinda makes sense from the way that you hated parties but you would much rather be down for cliff diving or late night drives to the city. “so uh, what’s good?” you try to make the atmosphere not awkward. especially the fact that you were still in your boba shop uniform and your hair was completely down, a violation if your boss ever caught you. “uh... god how do i even say this.” “no, take your time,” you smile. you were incredibly nervous. there’s no doubt he was gonna talk about the kiss again. why else would he look so down? “i kinda uh. caught wooyoung and yerin fucking in his bedroom during his party tonight.” fuck. “oh, shit...” “god, this doesn’t even feel right, i feel sick.” “how’d you even end up there?” “i texted wooyoung that i was gonna go play smash in his room during the party.” “and instead, you ending up seeing him literally smashing your girlfriend.” “oh my god, if you put it that way,” mingi wanted to scream. you were laughing so hard and he was wondering how you could take situations like these so not seriously. “yeah uh... i don’t even know what to say about this. my childhood friend and the girl i was in love with... literally hooking up.” “was?” “i hate to say this, but i think i’m falling out of love with yerin.” “that’s crazy. it can’t just be because of this,” and you’re hoping he still forgot the kiss. “yeah, you’re right. she’s been canceling every date, literally acting all embarrassed whenever i come hang out with her and her friends, and she just doesn’t feel the same.” “as in?” you hope that they hadn’t hooked up before. you knew mingi had strict parents from whenever you came over and did projects with him, and it probably took his parents a while to adjust to the fact that he was dating her in the first place. “i think i was just so over my head back then and i kept thinking that she was the one even though she didn’t do anything to me. hasn’t mina already told you this?” he seemed slightly annoyed that he has to say this to you, but you were more. “mina doesn’t have to tell me everything. i can get to know a person however way i want them to. but i guess we’re doing this in a boba shop,” you laugh it off. mingi liked that about you. you didn’t need anyone to tell you what to do and you gave zero fucks. “hey, come with me,” you guide your hands to the fire exit. “what?” “don’t ask. just come.“ you ran through the fire exit door (which surprisingly didn’t beep this time) and ran up the stairs, causing mingi to run up against you at the same pace. “and welcome to my secret haven.” it was the roof of the three-story strip mall and you could nearly see the entire city from here. “god whatever, i’m over this,” you take off your brown visor and apron with the boba shop’s logos on it and threw it into the direction of your backpack, which was already up on the roof. he somehow found it 10 times more attractive when you fixed your hair and laughed over your stupid boba shop uniform. “i go up here almost every night when i get breaks to myself, and i don’t really talk to myself, but no one can hear you up here. so i SHOUT LIKE THIS!” mingi’s startled and you laugh even harder. “WHY LIKE THIS?” “BECAUSE I CAN TELL PEOPLE TO FUCK OFF AND THEY WON’T KNOW!” then mingi starts cracking up and you see that classic eye smile. if only he knew how hard your heart was beating. she was living her kdrama cliche right now. the dude that she’s given up on is suddenly giving interest to her and it feels so out of place. “whenever i got fed up at home with my parents, i would go to work then come up here. i would just scream these long strings of curse words until i got exhausted.” “it’s really pretty up here though,” he looks around the entire rooftop, then back to you. “yeah... a lot of my emotions were just spilled out here and i’m glad they did.” “what about the night i kissed you?” and there it was. “the night i- what?” “don’t lie to me, y/n. i know you weren’t drunk.” mingi didn’t look at you. it was silent for a moment. “i lied because i was so fed up over the fact that i probably made you so uncomfortable...” your voice faded into the night air. “why?” “because you were literally dating the love of your life, what the hell was i supposed to say to justify an entire kiss?” mingi almost laughs. “can’t wait to hear what yerin has to say about her and wooyoung hooking up. she would fuck anything with a pulse except me.” “listen, i’m sorry if i kind of left you hanging. we don’t even talk much, so it felt so out of place after that.” “we used to. so let’s make that change,” mingi suggested. “dude, if you want her to feel ok after what just happened, treat her well. take her to the mall or something and just make her feel like a good friend. she’s not your good old mina, but she’s done something that i know it would take a long time for her to forget. make her forget,” yunho tells mingi after he counsels him about the kiss. “what?” “we should just... talk more. maybe it wouldn’t have felt so weird and out of place if we actually talked. i’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable before,” mingi adds on to his long overdue apology. “no.. no it’s fine. don’t apologize,” you wave him off. “so we’re starting fresh? something like that?” “starting fresh.” you reach your hand out to signal him to shake hands with you, and he gives you a big, genuine smile. — two weeks later “oh my god, you’re joking.” “i’m not, look at this order!” a postmates order pops up on the kitchen ipad as you come running in. 20 whole orders of boba that have to be done by 8 pm. “an entire fucking fraternity just pulled up,” mingi laughs. “how are we gonna finish this?” you read over the entire order just to completely sure that there are twenty, two zero, orders of boba. “leave the newbies to do it and we run back up?” mingi smirks. you hate him. “mingi, you’re literally a newbie.” he shrugs and laughs as he rings up his last order of the night, that is, if he doesn’t take care of that fraternity order. “i’m just saying...” mingi opens up one of the cabinets atop the kitchen exit with his backpack and his nintendo switch peeking out of it. you grunt, but you seriously want to leave too. “hey newbies?” two sophomores in high school turn around from behind the tea jugs. “do you mind if we take our break for a little bit? it’s been a while. one of you take the cashier and one of you take care of the online orders. is that alright?” “yes miss!” you snicker at the “miss”. “no need for formalities. just call me y/n,” you grin and flip your hair back unintentionally as you take off your uniform visor. so fucking flawless. mingi thought to himself as he stared at you from the door. why were you so good at everything? and why were you so incredibly nice to everyone? except him, of course. it had been a week since mingi had called it off with yerin. it wasn’t really official, it was more like a breakup text that wasn’t really a breakup. it was essentially yunho and hongjoong giving emotional support to mingi as he wrote lame replies to explain to yerin that he wasn’t in love with her. it took a lot of manpower, but the job was done. what job wasn’t done was you working at your part time job at the boba shop. and what you didn’t expect was a day after being exposed by mingi about the kiss, the man himself walking in with a resume in his hand once he was accepted, he wanted to have as many shifts with you as possible even though you hadn’t been working there for long so you weren’t considered a senior. you also wondered why he wanted to have a summer job, out of all things, to spend one of his last summers as a teenager. “imagine this. huge letters on a newspaper. local asian fuckboy works at boba shop instead of having parties at his parents’ rich place because quote, he’s tired of it,” you sit back on the beach chairs you two set up on the roof a couple weeks ago. “i am! why don’t you believe me?” “you’re not me, mingi. you’re party animal mingi, the cool basketball player every girl looks up to both figuratively and literally because you’re a living tree.” “i mean... so?? it’s nice to have a break since i’m done with my exams and i can get extra money. and free boba, of course,” he still felt kind of flattered after you said every girl looked up to him. it was a stretch. “imagine needing extra money when your parents already have that much money...” you sighed. he threw a piece of popcorn chicken at you. “shh. watch the movie.” you guys decided on “the interview” tonight. every night shift, you guys alternate on choosing movies on netflix to watch on your laptop up on the roof. things have changed for the better or worse. it’s only been a couple of weeks into summer now, and your life has been surrounded by mingi. same goes for mingi. all his parties have been cut down to night shifts with you, shopping for his dog and his own wardrobe with his personal stylist (you), and even driving to summer classes with you. just when you thought you could finally get rid of him, he becomes your honorary annoying best friend. though yunho and hongjoong were rooting him on, they didn’t expect him to be so involved in it. when he forcibly apologized to wooyoung and he did the same, things with yerin were still uncomfortable. to make things easier, mingi announced to everyone that he would never date her ever again. and although wooyoung doesn’t want to lose mingi’s trust, he knows. mingi knows that they’ve been secretly going on dates ever since the apology and not much as changed. so much for a girl and his childhood best friend, huh? mingi meanders over to check his phone and sees that some of his group chats have blown up. “yo, fourth of july is tomorrow. i think wooyoung wants a party,” mingi nudges. “sure. i mean, not at his house. ptsd for you,” and then mingi remembers the situation all over again. “god, yeah. my place then?” “sure. haven’t been there in a while,” you laugh. the shift ends in less than 30 minutes and the two of you have missed nearly the entire shift. you take the back entrance and wave him goodbye as he’s assigned to lock up for the night. you drive back to your house to see your older brother already asleep, the rest of your parents out of the house to visit family up in the city. the lame excuse of “college preparations” was how you escaped a week-long trip upstate to do nothing but babysit your cousins. mina 🤢 is calling... you take a beeline to the almost entirely dark living room and fall on the couch to pick up your friend’s call. mina? Y/N WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ? I’VE BEEN CALLING YOU ALL NIGHT what? girl i- you open up your phone app during the call to see 8 missed calls from the devil herself, mina. oh shiiit. sorry dude, i was at work. work? this late? i thought the shop closed at 10. nope. closes at 12, mingi locked up for me so i’m home a little earlier. well. mina seemed fazed by you and mingi and more concerned about her “issues.” anyways, i was TRYING to call you because i had a little emergency. you worried a little bit since she had been in quite a serious of a relationship with her boyfriend. oh, what’s wrong? well nothing’s wrong. actually, i know this is something you’ve wanted to do for a while since we’ve made our freshman bucket lists. remember that? you laugh softly into the phone and nod, forgetting that mina can’t see you. anyways, my boyfriend wanted to take me down on the coast highway after the 4th of july party that wooyoung? i think, is holding. you know him right? man, do you. we wanted to watch the sunrise together and bring a couple of friends. mina, that sounds fun. you’re right it’s been on my bucket list for a while. great! oh, not great. right. your ass took 70 years to reply so my boyfriend already left town and his sister doesn’t want to take us. no hard feelings of course, but it’s kinda awkward when this was meant to be a romantic thing and with you of course. oh. mina! why’d you tell me?? i don’t know, maybe we should keep this on a tab. don’t forget about it, and you should definitely have someone to go with next time besides me, if you know what i mean. i don’t, mina. i wanna go with you! these were my teenage plans with you back then. sis, you might wanna check your notes. you got up and turned on the kitchen lights — not the living room lights because they were way too bright and you were planning to knock out on the couch immediately after this call — to open up your notes and read better. you scrolled through the long checklist that had been updated constantly throughout your high school years, to find “drive up the highway and watch the sunrise with my s/o <3” in bright orange text, somewhere embedded in the even longer bucket list. oh god. how do you even remember me writing this? you’ve been wanting this ever since you’ve been wanting a solid relationship with someone. and when you did have a boyfriend, this never worked out so... mina! sorry sorry! i’m just saying... keep it in mind. mina, i’d still love to take you tomorrow after the party because yes i’m dying to see this sunrise but. you have someone, i don’t. we’ll save this one for next summer, ok? before you can let mina finish, you say goodnight. wait, y/n! you cut her off and turn off your phone. sweet dreams, you whisper to yourself as you delve deeper into your couch. then the annoying marimba ringtone of your generic iphone rings once again. mina- mingee the frog is calling... mingi? yo, can you take the shop keys for tonight? i feel like i’m gonna misplace this with the party being tomorrow. oh, oh yeah, sure. you straighten yourself up and (finally) turn on the living room lights. you can come over now, i’ll be at the door. actually, i’m already in front. WHAT? you run to your front door to see mingi in (not but maybe) your favorite black hoodie and keys in his right hand in front of. no. you unlock the door and jog out in the freezing midnight mist. “SONG MINGI! the ROVER?” “what’d you think, huh? thought it would be good revenge against wooyoung. gotta take her for a ride one of these days before i leave,” he laughs. mingi spins the lanyard of keys in his fist in resemblance to a teenage girl who just got her license and you immediately recognize that he’s only carrying wooyoung’s lanyard and not the lanyard with the shop keys. “where are the shop keys?” you tilt your head. “gave them to the sophomore who took care of the frat orders. now, the range rover. isn’t she a beaut,” he steps away from the huge car and shows it off like a golden trophy. you facepalm and know that he only brought you out of your house to show you that he had balls to steal from his own (also rich) cousin. “ok and... what about it? it’s cold mingi, go home,” you yawned and waved him off even though you weren’t that tired. you exaggerated because you just wanted to be in the safety and comfort of your own home. “come with me.” “what?” you turned around. “come with me. i’m still super awake because i put like, 4 shots of monster in that last cup of boba i had,” mingi points to the empty boba cup in the white range rover’s cupholders. “mingi, very funny. now drive yourself back to wooyoung’s house before he beats your ass and go to sleep. you have a party to plan tomorrow, don’t you?” “i don’t plan parties, babe, i just let them happen,” your heart skips over the slight pet name mention. you don’t wanna reply and hope your speed walk back to your door will make him go away. “oh and... your bluetooth is still connected to wooyoung’s car from last time he gave you a ride. not sure when.” “oh, sorry. disconnect me, would you? good night, mingi,” you bow and wrap your hands around the silver knob of your door. “i might have heard you and mina talking.” you stop. “and... i might have heard about you wanting to watch the sunrise. with someone. preferably someone who could drive you up there who isn’t mina or her boyfriend.” you want to smile, but also kind of scared that he heard everything you said to mina. you still don’t look back at mingi. “so here i am. making an excuse to be at your house at 1 am to drive you to the beach until sunrise using wooyoung’s car, in which i’m gonna get killed for anyways.” “mingi, just go home.” your sudden sternness as you look into his eyes comes out of nowhere, maybe out of anger. held back feelings. it comes off as rude. “see you at the party tomorrow,” you finally step into the house with the door unlocked. “i’ll let you listen to my playlists because i know you secretly like them. i’ll let you wear my hoodie. i’ll let you lie down next to me watching the stars because i don’t wanna be anywhere else when i’m near you.” you close the door. “song mingi, is this how you asked out yerin? am i just your emotional fill-in for yerin?” the way you said his full name shocked him. you’ve called him everything for the past month except his full name. but everything he just said about you made your heart race faster than it did in years. the atmosphere was stiff despite the sudden one-sided confession. “i-“ “i’m kidding with you, jesus christ, kid. you should have seen the look on your face. and thank you, i’ll be taking your hoodie, it’s getting cold,” you lock the door behind you and run up to mingi. mingi’s left breathless. y/n is nothing but trouble for him. you run into the shotgun seat and grabs the black screen printed hoodie on the seat. it’s from a j cole concert he went a couple years back and it still smells like good old mingi. you don’t want to say it, but you want to keep it forever. you also don’t wanna say much in general, because mingi may or may have not just confessed to you. “sunrise is at 5 am. you ready?” he jumps into the driver's seat with nothing but a smile on his face as he sees you already in his hoodie. “born ready.” he starts the car and backs up from your driveaway, and puts his arm on the back of your head cushion to see behind him. “oh-“ and your horny ass thought he was about to pull you in for a kiss because of the vicinity his body was to you. “what?” he turns around, knowing exactly what he just did and smirks at your flustered face. “nothing. just hope my sister doesn’t kick me out for coming back at home at literally 7 am.” “don’t worry, just sleep over at my house after and say you accidentally knocked out after work,” he shrugs as he leaves your neighborhood and enters the junction into the larger highway towards the city. “i feel like she already heard me coming home...” “so? i’m sure she wouldn’t mind you coming home from a guy as good looking as me,” you wanted to throw up but still had the urge to keep looking at the way he drove the range rover like a master. this was only his second time driving it, but you didn’t need to know. you spent the rest of the half hour drive listening to his night playlists (undoubtedly some of the best songs that you both know and like) and stop by a 7/11 and a couple of gas stations for some snacks and soda to take to the beach. by the time you two reach the coastal highway, it’s almost 3 am (oddly) and the highways are almost completely empty. when mingi sees you rapping along and holding his hoodie tighter, he wants to say something but he can’t. it’s the wrong timing. he’ll have to wait just a little, but he hopes you still want to return the half-lived confession. “couple more hours. what are we gonna do?” mingi asks over the music. “i don’t know. talk. walk around the coastline. push you into the water.” “if you do, i’m gonna make sure you do bathroom duty next shift,” mingi threatens with zero intention because he knows he really wouldn’t. the kindness he felt towards you had also occurred out of nowhere and it felt way too foreign. “i’ve never done this before so... enlighten me, lover boy.” “who said i’ve done this? only i would take your lanky ass to the beach at 3 am because, wait-“ he rolls down the windows and turns down the music. “smell the air.” you both take deep breaths in of the cold, salty air and grin. you’re so grateful to be alive right now. mingi turns and stops by the side of the cove to drive down to an empty parking lot. the beach is closed so mingi will manage to park in front of the huge beach mansions on the side of the streets. rich people won’t care about another rich person trying to park in front of their house now, will they? it’s almost 4 and it’s beyond freezing now. as you both exit the rover, mingi grabs his keys but notices you slowly walking out of the car without saying anything. “still cold?” “... uh... just a little bit,” you say slowly, hoping that mingi won’t even be able to comprehend you. he walks to the back of the car and opens the trunk with a button on his keys. there inside the trunk is a stack of blankets, food from the convenience stores, and his backpack. on top of the blanket stack is your favorite blanket that you left on the boba shop roof since it was your favorite. “song mingi. have you been planning this ahead of time?” you laugh at the sight. he rolls his eyes cutely and shrugs while mouthing i dunno. you walked down the side of the street while still looking at him. he could feel your gaze as you walk down towards the beach, but at this point, both of you were too nervous to say anything. you find a spot mid-way to the coast and the fencing off the cliff of the beach and set down all your stuff. it was nearing 5 am and you noticed the sky getting lighter. you were also extremely exhausted, but you let it pass. as you yawned and put down all the blankets, your first move was to lay down and close your eyes. “hey don’t sleep yet!” mingi threw a pillow at your head. “i’m tired as fuck, leave me alone,” you groaned as you pulled his hoodie tighter and turned your body to the side. mingi sat down and made the area around you comfier, then pulled out another blanket to put around himself. he checked his phone for the time, then looked towards the horizon. “ya... ya! it’s almost sunrise!” you were still facing the other way. “oh my god...” he said in the worst accent possible as he tried pushing you off the blanket. “y/n!” at this point, you knew you were just teasing him. but instead, he pulled your arm closest to him, hoisting you up, but all too fast that your entire body was within 1 cm of his, too close for comfort. “u-uh, i,” you said as his face was a little too close to yours, all while you attempted to look away at the sun that was beginning to rise up the horizon. mingi knew it was now or never. and he wasn’t gonna let you have the chance of initiating it again. “y/n.” you looked back at him dumbfoundedly. he had been staring at you this entire time, right until he pulled the side of your face closer and crashed. his lips meeting yours wasn’t foreign at all. despite the spontaneity of the last instance, both of you still remembered the taste of it. and both of you secretly wanted it again, so badly. you were still shocked at how fast he managed to do that, but you regathered your senses and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. shocked at the movement, mingi pulled away from the kiss and looked at you. “wait wait wait, hold on. do you even..?” your arms still hung around his neck as you gazed at him. “yes. a lot. for a long time. having to act like i didn’t care about you for the longest time was so exhausting. glad we’re on the same page now,” you winked and smiled. “oh my god,” he gazed at you with all the euphoria in his chest. how were you so perfect? and how was he so oblivious to how perfect you were for him this entire time? this time, he couldn’t hold back. he pulled you in even closer by holding your hoodie ties and deepened the kiss from last time. you closed your eyes immediately, and held one of your hands on his neck. his chest was bursting and although he couldn’t feel it, both of your hearts were beating erratically. you still couldn’t believe that the song mingi, the boy who you crushed on from the opposite side of your math class-then-turned somewhat enemies, is the reason for your happiness right now. mingi grabbed your hand and tightened it as he felt the cold within your palm. he pulled away again, but just to look at you and smile. he then turned towards the sunrise that had been going on the entirety of the confession, and the reflection of the warm hues that had been painted on of you. you were so beautiful in this light, and you never wanted this moment to end. “so...” “so...” “wanna head back to my place and sleep over?” and you knew that that meant an entirely new definition of going back to his place now that you both have basically spilled your feelings to each other. “hmm... maybe.” you wanted to keep him guessing, just for fun. he stood up and picked up his blanket. “alright then, i’m leaving,” he started turning away. “okok, i’m joking, take a joke,” you giggled and stood up. you ran over and tippie toed so that your arms could reach around his neck. you placed a kiss on his cheek and smiled even more brightly than before. he smiled back. he was so lucky to have you, and you wanted to know every single part of him as you fall deeper and deeper into him.

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a/n: hi ! my name’s chae and this is my first writing published on tumblr. because this is my first work, please excuse any grammatical mistakes and writing errors!! ive been reading fics and au’s for a while on tumblr for a number of kpop groups, but i hope that i can debut some of my blurbs on here in the future.

please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, it’s gonna help me a lot in the long run : ,,)

also my requests are open!! i don’t have any restrictions on what prompts/pairings/groups are allowed right now, but i mainly write reader x, and my ult groups are ateez, skz, and x1/produce male trainees (see header).

#mingi #song mingi #mingi ateez #mingi x reader #mingi au #mingi fanfic #mingi imagine #mingi fluff #ateez #ateez imagine #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #fluff #kpop imagine #kpop au #blurbs #ateez blurb

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holylulusworld · 5 years ago

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Broken Hearts & New Beginnings - Part 6 - Always trouble with the ex

Summary: After losing the love of your life and your daughter at the same day you close yourself off. Hiding in your house you talk to no one until your new neighbor a divorced single parent brings you back to life.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader, JJ Ackles, OFC’s

Warnings: angst, coping with loss and death of loved ones, comforting, fluff, bitchy ex, romance

Broken Hearts & New Beginnings Masterlist

Four weeks have passed since Jensen kissed you and slowly you get used to his lips on yours or his hands gently touching you.

So far you only cuddle and kiss each other, Jensen knows you are not ready to jump into a new relationship, so he takes it slow, making sure you feel comfortable with him.

JJ seems to have no problems with seeing her father kissing or touching you. If anything, she’s excited, even starts calling you her ‘new mom’.

Last week she came home from playtime with one of her friends and exclaimed you must move into Jensen’s house soon.

You adore the little girl; she has a special place in your heart. At first, you felt guilty to feel anything for a foreign child after you lost your beloved daughter, but JJ makes it impossible to not like her.

“Y/N! Look!” Squealing JJ shows you her latest drawing. It’s a picture of Jensen, JJ and a woman holding a doll.

“Oh—that’s nice.” Smiling you gently stroke the little girls head. “Is that your daddy and mommy?”

“Noo!” JJ gasps. “That’s daddy, me and you.” Giving you a wink, she points at the doll in your hands. “That’s Emily, you know as she will always be with you.”

“JJ…” Sniffling you kneel to hug the little girl tightly. “That’s very thoughfully of you.”

“I know she’s with us, Y/N. I bet Em’s is a little angel and watches over you. I want you to be happy and thought you would like to see your daughter.” Holding back the tears you nod, looking at the picture once again.

“You are talented, JJ. Maybe you should draw a picture of your mom too.” JJ stiffens in your embrace, shaking her head violently.

“I don’t want to, Y/N. Last time she tossed it onto a pile of magazines. I saw it lying in the bin later. My mom doesn’t like my drawings…” Letting a hickuped sob out JJ gives you a sly smile. “But you like them…right?”

“Those are beautiful. I like the flowers in the background and the dog next to your daddy.” Nodding JJ smiles as she tells you that her mother always refused to buy her a dog.

“Oh, Emily wanted to have a dog too. Sadly, my husband was allergic and refused to let me get one for Em’s. Maybe I can talk to your daddy? You could adopt a dog from an animal shelter. I know one close by.” JJ’s eyes round and she looks up at you in awe.

“You would do this for me, Y/N? I love you!” Squealing JJ hugs your tightly and you chuckle as the little girl can’t talk about dogs, and how much would love to have a furry friend.

----

“Jensen, can we talk?” Jensen smirks before he presses his lips to yours, loving you lean into his touch. “I meant to talk, not kissing.”

“Sorry, but you looked so kissable today, Y/N. Did you and JJ have a good time?” While Jensen prepares sandwiches, you hand him the ingredients. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Did you ever consider getting a dog for JJ?” Glancing up at Jensen, imitating his daughter’s puppy dog eyes you smile as he nods. “I promised her to talk to you and ask if you would consider getting a dog from an animal shelter.”

“So…my girls conspire now?” Laughing Jensen pecks your cheek, as he wraps one arm around your waist. “We could go to the shelter this afternoon. I got the day off; JJ is back, and we can have ice cream later.”

“Awesome!!” Wrapping your arms around Jensen’s neck you jump up and down till you realize you act like a child. “Sorry…”

“Sweetheart you can jump at me anytime. I like you want to see my daughter happy. Don’t ever try to act differently around me, okay.” Kissing your forehead Jensen smiles as you gently slide your hands over his chest, just looking up at him.

“Logan always hated when I acted like a child or got too loud. I loved him but somehow I always had the feeling I need to hold back around him.”

“Y/N, no one should give you the feeling you can’t be yourself around him or her. My wife was the same. She always wanted me to be the star, even at home. Sometimes I just wanted to run around with sweatpants and a tee, not in a suit.”

Standing on tiptoes you peck Jensen’s lips, giving him what he needs.

“I like you in sweatpants and a t-shirt. I mean…ahem…I saw pictures of you in a suit; you looked hot and dapper but…” Trailing off you lick your lips. “I prefer the carefree man in old jeans.”

“You are my kind of girl. Now let’s tell JJ we will go to the animal shelter this afternoon to have a look at the dogs. Maybe they will allow us to go for a walk with one of them.” Jensen smirks as you run out of the kitchen, calling his daughter's name.

----

“They are all so cute, daddy…oh…look!” Grasping your hand JJ drags you toward a puppy. The little dog is whimpering, and you can see the little girl is in love with the dog. “Can we take him, Y/N? He looks so sad and lonely.”

“It’s a girl, JJ.” Ponting at the name tag you explain to JJ the name of the puppy is Hope. Listening closely to your explanations she nods eagerly, barely able to hold back the need to pat the dog's head.

“Can we go for a walk with her, daddy?” Pouting JJ looks up at Jensen and his heart melts as you walk toward an older dog. The poor guy lies on the floor, sad and without hope.

“Lucky, huh?” Jensen watches you kneel to gently stroke the dog's head, calling his name till he lifts his ears slowly. “You lost your hope too…”

“You shouldn’t adopt that one. He lost his owner and doesn’t react to anyone, ma’am.” A girl with braces mutters. She doesn’t seem to have compassion for the old dog, so you ignore her, calling Lucky’s name and he lifts his head.

“Good boy.” Patting the dog's head, you ignore the boring looks of the girl, simply talking to the dog. “He’s lonely, is all. That poor guy needs someone taking care of him. I’ll take him…” Mouth agape the girl scoffs, walking away to get the papers.

“You want a dog too?!” JJ squeals, running around the room. “They can play together, Y/N!”

“Whoa, slow down, Baby. Let the poor guy get used to Y/N and we can have dog dates, JJ.” Jensen explains, smiling as you won’t stop stroking the dog's head.

“Let’s ask if we can adopt that little guy and the old boy over there for Y/N…”

----

JJ is smiling as she carefully carries the puppy toward Jensen’s house. She can’t stop talking about dogs, going for walks and how your dog and her puppy will be best friends soon.

Lucky is slowly trotting next to you, glancing up at you now and then. The old dog seems to sense you lost someone you loved too, as he opened to you, even let you fondle his ears.

“Good boy, Lucky. Do you want some of the huge amounts of dog food Jensen bought?” Laughing you look at Jensen who looks offended, even places one hand onto his heart.

You want to say more, want to make another joke as today is the first day you feel like the world doesn’t drag you down but then you see your bitchy neighbor smirk at you.

“What the…” Cursing Jensen stops in his tracks, glaring at the woman standing next to your neighbor. “Y/N, can you wait here with JJ and the puppy.” Nodding you glance at the woman who storms toward Jensen, yelling at your friend right away.

“Mom seems to be angry, Y/N. I think she doesn’t like my puppy.” Sniffling JJ look up at you and your heart breaks for the little girl. “She will take her away from me.”

“No one hates puppy’s, JJ.” Kneeling your wrap your arms around JJ and she hides her face into your shoulder, silently sniffling while the puppy whimpers next to Lucky.

“Shh, …it’s alright. No one will take Hope away from you, Sweetie. She can stay at my house if your mom hates her, okay. Lucky will be happy to not be alone with me…” Smiling at your words JJ looks up at you, nodding eagerly.

“Then I’ll move into your house…”

“Deal…”

Jensen is gesturing toward his daughter, raising his voice and you flinch as he tells his ex-wife you are a better mother to JJ than she ever was.

“Oh…I know everything about that crazy woman! You must have lost your mind to let someone like her get close to my child!” His ex-wife yells and you blink the tears away.

“You’ve got no clue what she’s been trough. Y/N lost her husband and child, due to an accident and took her time to mourn her loss, Megan. This doesn’t make her a bad person or means she’s crazy.” Jensen yells back, defending you at all costs.

“Still, I don’t want her near my daughter!”

“This is not your decision. I got the sole custody for JJ as you refused to show responsibility, Megan. Y/N is good for JJ as she was a great mom and gives my daughter the feeling someone cares about her as a mother should.” Pointing toward you holding JJ in his arms Jensen smiles.

“Do you fuck her?” Megan spats and Jensen shakes his head, just looking at you with his child.

“Y/N and I are friends, but I hope to be more to her someday. For now, we are what we need for each other. No one will destroy this for us. Not you, not our bitchy neighbor or anyone else.” Turning on his heels Jensen picks his daughter up before he leads you and the dogs into his house.

“Wait, I’m not finished…” Megan calls for Jensen, but he ignores her words. “I want a second chance…”

“You’re right, Megan. We are not finished.” Smirking his ex-wife wants to step closer, almost pushing you away but Jensen’s features darken.

“We are done for good. Now leave my ground and never come back here. Instead of taking your child into your arms you started to yell at me. What kind of mother does this to her daughter?”

Watching Jensen open the door for you and the dogs you smile. Logan would’ve never defended you the way Jensen did.

Maybe it was fate you met Jensen and his daughter. Maybe there is still hope for you…

SPN Forever Tags

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Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @negans-lucille-tblr, @deans-baby-momma, @thefaithfulwriter, @squirrelnotsam, @roonyxx, @neerness, @deansgirl-1968, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @20gayneen, @janicho88, @woodworthti666, @thevelvetseries, @dreaminemz, @akshi8278, @midnightsilver16830, @mrspeacem1nusone, @ria132love, @caligraphee, @the-witch-in-silence, @justanotherwinchester, @multisuperfandom, @jason-todd-squad, @jadesupernatural, @psychicforest, @luciathewinchestergirl, @magssteenkamp, @palefiregiver, @tranquility-or-chaos, @jxackles, @michellemxndes, @addictedtofictionalcharacters, @gabifernandessn

Broken Hearts & New Beginnings Tags

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#spn #spn fanfiction #Supernatural RPF #RPF #spn rpf #angst #Broken Hearts & New Beginnings Masterlist #Jensen Ackles #angry jensen #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen x you #jj ackles #jensen ackles series

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kaythewriterx · 4 years ago

Text

The Flex Brothers

Plot: A young man, Alex Flex (Charlie Hunnam) who deals with life as he is diagnosed with a disease that causes him to go blind at the age of fourteen. Richard, (Tom Selleck) Alex’s father lets him grow and learn on his own, but his mother, Monica (Courtney Cox) wants him to follow into her footsteps. One day, out of curiosity, Alex joins a gym, then wants to be a boxer. His bigger brother Brady, who has a very close relationship with Alex, finds out and is forced to be quiet. The Truth always be told. Richard and Monica finds out and lectures him, but with Alex wanting to finally be on own, he makes a deal. Lose and Quit. Or. Win and Stay.

Dallas, Texas. 22 years ago

"Alex! Look at mommy." a woman laughs as she shakily filmed the little boy who stood in front of her, the child had paid no attention to his mother, but instead the bubbles. The woman zoomed over at another boy, a bit older with his father that had been throwing him gently in the air. She chuckles, pushing her black hair out of her face, squinting at the two as they seemed to be on cloud nine. The summer sun beaming on the family of four, enjoying quality time with each other. "My Richard and our first born, Brady." She lightly whispers still filming the father and son, twirling the blue shirted boy with little demin jeans to match perfectly Monica thought. The woman finally looks over at her younger son, her black hair getting in the way from the precious moment that was being half caught on camera. "You like the bubbles?" Monica places a free hand on her hip, the confused boy looks up with the wand in one hand and the bottle in the other. "Yeah." Alex half squinted at the short woman, he quickly smiles causing her to lightly chuckle, suddenly a squeal escaped her mouth. "What are you doing?" Richard asked his wife lifting her up in the air for a quick moment. "I'm filming our boys-well our family." she smiled looking up at her tall husband, "Ah, well." he frowned and before she could speak, he takes the camera into his hands and pointed it himself. "Hello world, I'm Richard, this is my beautiful, wonderful, smart-" Monica blushes and covers her face, "Stop." Richard laughs and points the camera to the two boys who were standing side by side. "And these are our boys. Brady and Alex, say hi boys." Monica was in awed as they waved towards their father, she quickly picks up Alex as Richard sat Brady on his hip. "And we are the Flex's" the little family smiled at the camera.

Now

The deep green colored grass glistened as the sprinklers lightly doused it, with the American flag blowing perfectly every time the light breeze came and gone in the summer Texas weather. "Alex! Brady!" a woman's voice yelled through the well opened house, she listened for answered before she continued with cutting the carrots. The woman wipes her hands on the red and white apron, pushing her black with a touch of grey hair as she entered the living room where laughter could be heard. "I thought-" she gasps covering her mouth, her eyes went to the tv and straight down to the two men sitting on the brown couch, they turned their heads. "Hey, ma." Brady smiled at his awed mom. Her green watery eyes went to her little boy's, "Hi, mama." Alex's lips curved into a smile. Monica walks over, seeing Richard's crow feet peeking more and more. Her little body made a small thud as she bounced on the couch in between her sons, they all chuckle to see her so lost in the TV. "Ma, you alright?" Brady's fingers lightly touched his mother's arm, "It's been so long, since I've watched this." her hands finally rested on her black slack covered thighs. "When was the last time you did?" Alex reposition himself to carefully listen to her sweet voice, the two sons looked over at their father as he suddenly spoke. "I think it was before Alex turned fourteen." he frowned thinking for a brief moment before looking back at the TV screen. "Yep, my baby boy." Monica lightly squeezed her son's knee causing him to lightly drape his arm around her neck. "I love both of my boys." She giggled looking over at Brady who sat on her right side, she pulled on his stubble chin to bring him closer, carelessly pinching his cheeks. "Ow, ma." he winced in pain, she pressed both of her hands on their knees before she stood to her feet. "Come on, help me set the table." Brady grunted as he stood turning the TV off, Richard quickly got up as he saw Alex, "Need help, son?" he offered a hand, Alex kindly nodded. "No, dad I got it." he grabbed his cane before standing to his feet, Richard put his large hand on Alex's shoulder guiding him into the kitchen. "So, what are we having?" Alex says as he walks in the kitchen hearing the cutlery as it hit the table. "Well, birthday boy. Your favorite of course." His mother smiled taking the hot steamy foil covered dish out of the oven. "Lasagna? Steamed Vegetables? Bread? And Chocolate cake with no icing?" Alex guessed making everyone in the room laugh to themselves. "You're so weird with the no icing thing." Brady shook his head at his younger brother who sat down at the kitchen table. "I iced half of it for you, Brady." Monica interjected, Brady sudden clapped causing Alex jump. "That's why you are the best mother in the whole wide world." He complimented her before sipping on the iced tea. "Okay, now let's say grace." Richard told taking a hold of his wife's and Brady's hand.

"You can let them in now, Brady." Monica says as she scraped the dirty plates into the trash can. "Sweet!" He chuckled going for the side door of the house, letting a black and yellow Retrievers in. "Sunny! Joey! Oh, how are my boys?" Brady said sweetly to the dogs, bending down to hug them around the neck. "You been good?" He asked rubbing Joey's black and grey fur, "Say, 'Yeah, I missed my bubba'." Monica says watching her son playing with his childhood pets. "I missed ya two." Brady kisses the side of both of their heads before he stood to his feet. "You know, I've been thinking about getting a dog." Brady says facing his mother as she was still cleaning the kitchen. "Oh yeah? How come?" she furrows her brows scrubbing the dishes. "Just getting lonely in that apartment of mine." He says taking a hold of a plate drying it off, "What kind?" she looks over at Brady.

Alex hummed as the light breeze hit him in the face, closing his eyes with the sun warming his slouched body. His relaxing time soon ended as he heard the front door open and close behind him. "Sure, is a beautiful day." Richard exhaled with his hands in his pocket, "Yep." Alex says hearing the porch steps creak as Richard took a seat next to him. "Been enjoying your birthday, son?" He looks over at Alex who was staring at the white stairs, "Feel's like any other birthday I've had." He said honestly stirring his feet around hearing the door open again. "Hey." Brady looks at the men sitting down, "Hey, Brady." Richard looks over at his oldest before he leaned on the railing. "How's the oil field going?" Alex spoke up, Brady grunted towards his brother. "It's going. Lot's of hours, you know?" Brady chuckled as he looked up at Richard, nodding to him. Brady takes his seat as he went into the house. "I bet, all that hard labor." Alex shook his head, "Man, you don't even know the start of it, you gotta keep up with a lot of shit, you know? And dad being my boss? Geesh." Alex chuckled more with his brother's humor. "How 'bout you?" Brady's laugh died down turning his head to him, "Seriously? You for real asking me that? You asked me that all the time." Alex sighed with the question he had been given. "And all the time I expect an answer. You’re my brother, A." Brady pursed his lips. "B, I'm blind. Ain't no one want to hire a guy like me." Alex blurted out causing him to furrowed his brows with his younger brother's face expression saying it all. "You don't know that." Brady says with hope in his voice, "You better get home before traffic beats you." Alex suddenly switched the subject. "I'm staying the weekend, you know that." He told, "And why is that exactly?" Alex furrowed his brows in confusion to Brady. "We've been together our whole lives on each other's birthday, why should that stop now?" Brady was taken back at his harsh words. "Because you moved out, that's why." His eyes fell to the ground as Alex grabbed his cane in anger and went back into the house.

The warm lighting hummed as Alex turned on the bathroom light. A low growl escaped his mouth, completely annoyed by the sound above him. He quickly closed the creaky door, setting his cane up against it. His hand slapping anything within reach, tapping on the smooth surface indicating it was a mirror. Alex sighed deeply before running his hands through his longish dirty blonde hair, opening the draw in front of him taking a hold of the razor. His knuckles becoming white as he gripped tighter and tighter. Alex let it fall making a loud thud, his grunts became shaky in frustration. A hot tear escaped falling onto his hand as it was gripping onto the draw, he quickly wiped it away before setting it back on the wood. "Ma?" His hard stare never left when the door opened, Monica looks over at the razor and soon looks up at Alex's watery faded green eyes. She didn't say a thing, she pushed up her black robe's sleeve before grabbing the shaving cream.

The birds chirped into the foggy humid morning air, grey clouds slowly passing by the sun. A man's voice was a light background sound as Richard and Brady were in the kitchen. "More coffee?" Brady looks up seeing him holding the pot. "Oh yes, thank you." He nodded letting the hot steam warms his face as he took a sip. A light creak from footsteps caught the two men's attention. "Holy shit." Brady looked to his left as his father did the same. Alex smiled with his mother right beside him, admiring her work. "Nice haircut, son." Richard raised his coffee mug to his mustache. "Coffee?" Monica asked as her hair bounced in the messy bun she slept in. "Yes, please." Alex replied walking towards the table, his hand hovering over the pink box. "Which one you want?" Brady asked opening the box, "White sprinkle." His hand being opened for his brother to fill with a donut.

As the grey clouds were dusted away by the sun with the early afternoon creeping up, the family of four headed into town. Richard smiled down at his wife as they held hands walking the sidewalk with their sons following behind them. "Is this the store you wanted to go into, Alex?" Monica turns her attention back, seeing the two brothers engaging in their own conversation. "Is it the one I told you about?" Alex raised an eyebrow, his ear rising as well with a bell going off suddenly. The light music echoed through their ears as they looked around the shoe store, Alex's hand slowly ran through the row of shoes. "These are the ones you were talking about. Red, black and white." Monica says holding the shoe in her hands. "Yes." Alex pursed his lips fixating his shoulders. "Okay, great." She smiles as she looks at him, but soon the smile fell as his eyes painfully reminded her. "Thanks, mama." The corner of his lip curved a tiny bit. Monica silently sighs and puts the shoe back in the box and walks to the cashier. A heavy stump got Alex's attention, his cane stopping at the steel toed boot. "Whatchu lookin' at?" Alex asked, Brady grunted as he sat back down at the small black bench. "Well, I need some more shoes. The ones I'm wearing are worn out, so." Brady looked up at his brother who seemed preoccupied. "We'll meet you guys in a bit, okay? I'm going to go look at some house decor." Their mother came into the conversation, they both nodded as Richard guided his wife out of the store. Alex no longer felt Brady's presence, he tilts his head up at the ceiling as something caught his attention. His red tip cane made a light tap as he walked towards the side of the building. He pressed his ear up against the cold wall, his eyes squinting as he tried to figure out the sound that could barely be heard. The sound of the bell going off again didn't faze Brady as he focused on the pair of boots. Grunts, loud rock music, yelling and ropes hitting the floor filled Alex's ears. No one batted an eye towards the lost man as he entered the new building. Alex's squinted to himself as the heavy metal rung in his ears, he lightly gasped as he ran into something hard, "Oh, excuse me." he chuckled waiting for a response. His hand rose up feeling a hard material, he slowly made a fist and punched it lightly. Alex stood there for a moment realizing it was a punching bag. He stepped back and exhaled before punching it, again, again and again till he was out of breath. Alex then clung onto the bag. "Hey, kid, you got a card?" a raspy voice said making Alex jump and grab a hold of his cane, suddenly his heart drops when he couldn't find it. "Uh, I-no, I'm sorry no, I don't." He panics searching for the long plastic tube, his hand reached in front of him feeling a familiar piece. "Looking for this?" the voice asked, "Y-Yes, thank you." Alex nodded to the person as he grabbed a hold of it and turned to his feet. "What's your name?" he stopped in his tracks as the man asked, "Alex... Alex Flex." he turned his head, following the voice. "Well, Alex Flex... you wanna tell me what's a blind guy doin' in a gym?" Alex then chuckled turning completely around. "I-I was just curious-that's all." the man chuckled to himself, "Curious, huh?" he looked up at Alex who had his hands resting on top of the cane listening to him. "I'm Eddie-" "Alex! I've been lookin' all over for you man, what the hell?" Brady's voice echoed through the building getting everyone's attention, "Come on, mom and dad are waitin' on us." He pulled on his younger brother out of the gym. "Why were you there in the first place?" Brady looked over at him holding onto a white bag, "I was bored." "Bored, eh?" He chuckled in disbelief walking up the hill where he could see his parents steadily waiting.

Sounds of crickets could be heard throughout the field. Stars decorating the black sky to go along with a bright full moon, shining through the rooted trees shadowing a two-story house. "Alright man, drive safe." Alex's hand slapped onto Brady's, gripping it tightly. "Bye, ma." Monica squeezed her son's waist not wanting to let go. "I'll see you tomorrow, son." Richard nodded as Brady did the same. His calloused hands scuffing up the two dog's fur by his legs. "Be good boys, take care of Alex for me." He told them as he walked down the steps waving a last goodbye before getting into his truck.

Alex let a deep sigh as his tired body hit the mattress, running a quick hand on his face setting an arm behind him. His heavy eyes looked forward, slowly falling into a deep slumber.

9 years ago

"Can you read this, sweetie?" A younger Monica asks Alex as he lifted the glasses to rub his tired eyes. He squinted trying to focus on the extremely blurry white board. "The-The? Dodge?" he sighed knowing that wasn't right, his mom gathered up the poster boards and pushed them aside and looked at the frustrated young teen. "It's okay. Everything is going to be okay." Monica reassured him, lightly squeezing his hand before standing up to go into the living room where Richard watched. He looks back at his son as he sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands. Monica sighs grunting out as she slumped on the couch. "The drops aren't working, the doctor said it should be helping him." The couched dipped when he sat down beside her, "He also said it might not." he exhaled not wanting to say the words. "I don't get it! He's not getting any better! It's getting worse!" She yelled standing up throwing her hands in the air, Alex lifted his head up, hot tears falling onto the table. "It's not fair, Richard!" she turned to face him, "No, it's not." He shook his head. "I give up, nothing is happening, nothing is getting better." Monica crossed her arms pacing around the room. "I hate to be the one to say it, but yes. Unfortunately, it looks like there's no stopping this disease." Richard explained rubbing his hands together. Alex got up from his chair and ran up the stairs, falling onto his bed hugging the pillow soaking it with his tears. As the morning came, Alex's grey clouds became black. Loud screeching scream hurt his throat as he opened his eyes, blackness.

A loud door slammed behind the teen, echoing through the huge building. The red tip cane meeting the freshly waxed tile with his feet scrapping against it causing friction. As the building stood still, not a single sound could be heard made the hairs on Alex's forearm stand. Suddenly, he grunts out, making the books in his arms fall to the ground as he puts his hands on his ears. Students came out of their classrooms like a herd of bulls, the bell finally stops but it kept ringing in Alex's sensitive ears. "Ow!" Alex hissed at the pain when his hands made contact with the floor. "Can someone help me?" his arm reached out for a hand. Alex whimpered as it was slapped away from some kids that laughed. "Awe, what a wimp!" One chuckled, "Poor baby Alex! You gonna cry?" the group of bullies mocked the child that tried to stand. The kids took off as the bell rung once again, Alex pushed anyone who was in the way as he tried to run forward. His ears perked up hearing a familiar voice, "Good morning." Monica says as the last child entered the room, she gasps out as a loud thud hit the wooden door. "Alex?" she furrows her brows seeing her son in such a state of emotion, his breathing was rapid trying to catch his breath. "Mama." Alex's eyes tried to search for the woman with his arms. "Who's this freak?" "That's Alex, I think he's blind." "Oh, my gosh, what a freak!" Those harsh words circled around his brain, "Class, that's not nice, stop laughing." Monica ordered, grabbing a hold of her sons’ shoulders. Alex squealed not knowing who was touching him, "It's okay." she reassured him. "N-No it-it's not! I-I can't see!" His breathing quickens, heart pounding against his chest like it was about to explode. Laughter grew and grew causing Alex to panic through tears and turn around only to run in the door, he had no time to react as he ran out of the room. Loud chattering, doors slamming, lockers being shut and footsteps all rang through his ears. Alex grunted out, scraping his body against the concrete rushing out of the building. Droplets of tears left a mark on the ground when he finally stood to his feet, bloodshot watery eyes following up to the sounds of chirping.

Now Alex blinked out of concentration when a car passing by honked, the man huffs turning back to where his attention was before. He grips the silver door handle and walks in. "Can I help you?" a youngish man asked. "Yes, I'm looking for Eddie?" Alex furrowed his brows setting his hand on the desk, "Eddie. Who?" the man nodded his head in confusion. "Jason, go make yourself useful and clean the bathroom." Alex turned to the familiar voice he heard not too long ago. "Hey, Alex, right?" "Yes, sir." He smiles towards the presence that stood in front of him. "What are you doing here?" Alex sighs, putting his head down for a second before speaking. "I want to join your gym." Alex waited for a reaction, more or so a laugh, but it confused him when he didn't. "Follow me." He was shocked as the man seemed okay with it. Alex follows Eddie into an office, he reaches out and feels the cold metal, taking a seat. "Let's get to know one another before anything." The older man grunts as his knee’s pops scooting up to his desk, "Why do you want to join my gym?" Eddie bluntly says, Alex folds his hands together. "Well, I didn't know this place even existed till about a week ago and I've always enjoyed staying fit." Eddie leaned back into the leather chair, and hummed. "I can see that." He glanced at his body, as he seemed well feed. "I'd really like to join." Alex smiles, hearing a pen click. "Alex Flex, age?" "23." "Okay." Alex furrows his brows, "That's all?" Eddie chuckles before standing up and walking out. He soon follows behind, feeling weird stares as he came to a stop. "Johnny and Andy clear out." Eddie snaps his fingers, Alex hears the Velcro coming undone. "Come on." Alex sets his cane on a table nearby before entering the ring. "Andy, wrap this gentleman up." The man ordered, Alex soon felt gloves being tugged on. "Now, Johnny I just want you stand there." The tall man looked over at him in confusion, "Why?" "Because I said so, smart ass." Eddie grunted. Alex felt a hovering body in front of him, soon smelling Eddie's musk on his right side. "Now, Alex. Fight Johnny." "What?!" The two men said in sync looking at the man, "Dad, I'm not fightin' no blind guy." Johnny chuckles for a second before getting smacked in the head. "Yeah, why is he even in here?" Andy also blurted out with other men agreeing. "Quiet!" Eddie roared, everyone stood still as he started to pace around the ring. "If I hear any of you talking shit about this man, so help me God I will throw all of you sorry sons of bitches out. He can be here just as much as you can and last time I checked, it's called 'Russo's Gym'. Not 'Johnny's', not 'Andy's. Mine. So, if you have a problem with it, get the fuck out, are we clear?" "Yes, sir." Everyone including Alex replied back to his announcement. Alex's hands were raised in front of him, "Just punch." Eddie calmly told. Alex nodded and began to hit the man in front of him, one punch at a time before getting dizzy. Eddie gripped the gloves and pulled onto his head, "Listen, you're getting ahead of yourself. You're breathing too quick, too hard. You need to slow and focus on your breathing, focus on what's in front of you, on your feet, your opponent’s feet. Mute everything around you and fight." Alex exhaled, registering his encouraging words. He planted his feet in front of the larger man, closing his eyes and breathing in the cool air. Soon, turning off any sound, but Johnny's footsteps. Boom, Boom, Boom, hit in the stomach. "Good job, Flex." Eddie cheered the younger man. Alex and Johnny circled around each other, some hits and misses, mostly hits. Johnny grunted as a glove met his face, "Damn!" everyone yelled at Alex. Clapping and laughing at the hurt man. "Shit Alex, you got me." Johnny hissed at the pain in his lip, but quickly smiling at him soon, touching gloves with him. "Thanks." Alex smiled listening to the room cheering him on.

"This looks wonderful, honey." Richard smiled up at his wife when she sat down the dish, Alex snickered at the comment. "Thank you." She sighed finally taking a seat after a long day of teaching. "Father we thank you for this wonderful food, that a woman you blessed me with has prepared. Thank you for keeping her and my son safe, we love you. Amen." "Amen." Monica and Alex nodded, letting go of hands and digging in. "So, how was your guy's day?" Richard asked before taking a bite, "It was good, thank goodness every one of my students were on their best behavior." she chuckled. "Wasn't the principal supposed to come today?" He thought as he wiped his mouth off. "Yes, that's why they were so good." They both shared a laugh, Alex just barely showed a smile. "How about you, sweetie?" Monica looked over at her quiet son, "I got a job today." he flinched as two forks scraped the plates. "Sorry, what?" Monica raised her brows, "Yeah." he simply says siting back against the chair. "Where?" She was wanting answers, obviously in shock. "At a store." Richard furrowed his brows when he looked at his wife, "Care to explain more, son?" he shook his head. "It's in back of the store, I'm not actually in the store." He looks to his mom who sat on his right side. Richard frowned, surprised how Alex got the job, let alone wanted one. "I thought we talked about-" "I know, but I think this is better, for now." Monica pressed her tongue against her cheek before going back to eating. "Because I want you-" "I know, ma." He interjected raising his palm up from the table. "Well, I think this is a good thing." Richard raised his glass, Monica squinted her eyes at the man and shook her head. "Thanks, dad." Alex smiles getting up with his plate and went into the kitchen, leaving Monica and Richard feeling different.

The car rumbled through the bumpy street, causing more tension with the mother and son. Monica sighed running her free hand through her hair, Alex stayed silent throughout the ride. His ears perked up, the brakes squealing underneath. "Have a good day." Monica muffled, not bothering to look at him. Alex exhaled, taking his hand away from the handle. "What's so bad about me getting a job?" He turned his head to the left, "We've talked about this, months ago Alex." "Yeah, months ago. I changed my mind." he told, leaving her silent. The handle clicks as he got out, he bent down resting his forearm on the window. "I'll think about it, okay?" She smiled finally looking at her son, "Okay." Alex backs away from the car, waving her goodbye. He looks over, the wind blowing through his spiky hair. "So, today we're just focusing on the punching bag, alright?" Eddie told, standing behind it. "But just the other day I was in the ring?" Alex netted his eyebrows with a light chuckle in his voice. "Yes, but you're still having trouble focusing." "Ah." Alex nodded instantly, Eddie's feet scraped against the flooring, soon stopping behind the man. "Breath, focus on what's in front of you." He obeyed and began to punch the bag, he got twelve hits in before slowing down. "I can't focus with this damn music and these guys working." Alex motioned with his hands before setting them on his hips. "Music and the other noises ain't the problem, son." He stopped pacing feet, "What's really on your mind?" Eddie asked, staring at the young man. Alex sighs, bending his neck back. Contemplating on whether or not to speak truth. "I am a twenty-three-year-old blind man, who still lives with his parents- that begs him to become a fuckin' teacher, but is afraid of doing something else just because of what people will say." Alex sighed, heavy weight practically lifting off his shoulders. "What do you want, Alex?" Eddie blinked, soon meeting his green eyes. "To become a boxer."

A group of men yelled to each other, raising hands to their ears as the loud machines were much louder. “Son of a bitch!” One man grunted, slipping in the mud. “She ain’t bunging!” The man on his knee with a tool wrench told, “Brady!” he looks up at the man who was much cleaner than he was. “Thank you.” Brady nods to him, taking his hard hat off. “Yeah, boss?” Richard scuff. “You don’t have to call me that.” Taking a seat behind his desk. “How can I help you, my father?” Brady laughed sarcastically, turning a chair to take a seat. Richard folded his hands together before he spoke, “Alex got a job.” “Really? That’s great.” Brady smiles. “Your mother doesn’t think so.” Brady took his hand off of his thigh, “Why?” “Brady, I have no idea what’s goes on in your mother’s mind sometimes.” Richard sighed. “He’s a fucking grown ass man.” He shouted, “You don’t think I already know that?” he looks up at his now standing son. “Sir, Morrow is at it again.” The two men look at the new one that appeared, “Fucking hell, tell that son of bitch to get his ass up here now!” Richard pointed at the guy who nodded in response. “I swear this job is gonna kill me one of these days.” Richard sits back down, Brady looks back at his father. “I want you to do me-your mother a favor.” Richard corrected himself, “Which would be?” he motioned his hand. “To check on your brother as much as you can.” “What?! Why can’t she fucking do it?” Brady furrowed his brows, “If she does it, Alex will be furious with her, so.” Richard waved. Brady grunted, rubbing his aching neck, “I got over eighty hours this week.” “You can take off when I tell you.” Brady looks over when the door opened, Morrow was covered in mud. “Do not take one fucking step in my office, you do and I’ll kill you.” Richard told, Brady put back on his yellow hat and walked past the filthy man.

Alex’s phone vibrated through his grey sweatpants, “Hello?” “Eh, little bro.” Brady said making Alex chuckle as he walked down the sidewalk. “What’s up?” “Oh, you know, nothing much. Just got on break.” He could hear his cane sliding on the rough concrete, “What bout’ you?” Brady asked. “I just got off, from work.” Alex snickered hearing his brother’s coos, “Yeah, I heard, pops told me.” Alex heard the microwave beep on the other side, “It’s just a bunch of packing and whatnot.” “It’ll put a couple of bucks in your wallet, yeah?” Alex sighed in agreement as he took a seat on a bench. “That’s what’s it’s all about.” Brady chuckles taking a seat as well, with his dinner in his free hand, “Alright, well, I just wanted to check on ya.” Brady swallowed, “You don’t need anything, do you?” “Nah, Brady I’m good.” “You don’t need me to beat up anyone, do ya?” Alex chuckles, lifting his head up. “Nah, B.” Brady looks down at the dark colored carpet, “Alright, take care, A.” “You be safe out there.” “You too, man.” Brady sighs ending the call.

“Kick! Kick! Kick!” Eddie shouted, watching Alex lifting his leg towards the punching bag. Alex grunted, sweat beaming off of his skin, music blaring in the background. “Stand, punch!” Alex jumped, planting his feet on the ground and punched, “Dodge, dodge!” he swiftly moved his shoulders side to side. “Focus, turn and kick with a punch!” He exhaled, turning on his heel, lifting his left leg grunting coming in contact with the hard bag. “Argh!” He fisted, swinging his arm into the bag making it bounce back from the chain. “That’s what I’m talking about!” Eddie squeezed his shoulders as he rested against a cold beam. Alex moved his jaw, taking in the ice-cold water, “Good work, Flex.” Johnny complimented the tired man. “Thanks.” Alex smiled, wiping the sweat before it got in his eyes. “Brady!” He looked up from the ditch, the hot blazing sun staring down. “Go.” Richard nodded off, Brady’s hands landed on his hips and looked at the men that surrounded him, “Get back to work, fellas.”. He took off his gloves and hard hat, listening to the beep noise coming from his truck. Brady grunted lifting himself up from the handle and started the engine. “You’re doing great, kid.” Eddie told, taking a seat by the man, “I appreciate it.” Alex nodded taking one last sip. “Andy and Johnny your son’s?” He asked, listening to them laugh just a few feet away. “Yeah, they got some smart mouths on them but, they’re great kids.” Alex lightly chuckles, “It’s been hard for them, ever since their mother died.” he sighs, “Oh shit, man, I’m sorry I- ““No, it’s okay, I don’t mind talking about it-Hell I haven’t talked about Helena… damn has it really been that long?” Eddie sighs, thinking to himself. “Andy was a mamma's boy-that boy got away with anything around that woman. Now Johnny? That boy has a mouth on him, he is one tough son of a bitch, reminds me of myself back in the day.” He chuckles, making Alex smile. “How that woman put up with me, I’ll never know.” “I can tell you really loved her.” Eddie looks over to him, Alex looked up. “How?” “Your heart… it picked up when you started talking about her.” Eddie did a double take at the man who seemed happy, he scuffs in disbelief. “Even when gone, she still puts butterflies in my stomach.” He smiles before standing to his feet, “Awe, Ed, I didn’t know you had a heart.” Alex chuckles. “I don’t care if your blind son, I’ll kick your ass.” Alex threw his head back in laughter, “Come on, on your feet.” Eddie slapped the punching bag. The brakes eased as Brady tapped them, slipping off his seat belt and turning the key. His steel toed boots meeting the black road, fiddling with his keys before putting the in his pocket. Loud rock music being muffled by the building next to the store, he chuckled taking a quick look at the men working out. His boot scrapping against the concrete as he came to a sudden stop, “What the…” “Go! Go!” Eddie clapped, Alex grunting his feet coming full force at the bag. “Breath, focus and hit!” He exhaled, closing his eyes, sending multiple hits to the hard material. Alex twirled on his right heel and swung his leg into the air, “Hell yeah!” Eddie cheered with the other men. “Hey! Hey! Whoa!” Brady whistle, waving his hands in the air. The room went silent, everyone looked at the new man, “Brady?” Alex huffed. “Alex, what the hell going on?” His older brother furrowed his brows as Alex chuckled nervously, not knowing where to put his shaky hands. “Um…” “Um? Go on, spit it out.” Brady tuck in his bottom lip, watching Alex struggle to speak. “I’m sorry but, who are you?” Eddie spoke, “I’m his older brother, who the fuck are you?” “Whoa!” “Hey!” they all shouted. “Oh, shut it.” Brady flared his eyes towards the others, “You care to explain to me why you’ve been lying to me?” Brady ducked his head down and into his brother’s eyes.

“You’ve been busy.” Brady started, looking around the quiet office. "Yeah." Alex nodded, as he sat beside his brother Brady who scuffed in disbielf. "Why are you in here?" "Why do you ask?" Alex shook his head, "Because when I see my blind baby brother in a gym, I have the right to know!" Brady stood, "This is the first time I've felt alive, Brady!" Alex matched his brother's loud yelling. "What are you talkin' bout, A?" He furrowed his brows, worried what was going through his brain. "Every since I was fourteen, everyone did everything for me. I couldn't do anything without someone there, but here... I feel free, not trapped." "You feel trapped?" Brady's soft voice caused Alex to sigh, "Lately, I have. And with mom trying to get me to-I don't wanna be no damn history teacher, man." "So, what do you want to do?" Alex paused for a minute, his hands digging into his pockets. "I wanna box." Brady scuffed and lifted himself off the desk he had been leaning on and started to walk. "You gotta be fucking crazy, man." "No, Brady, wait." Alex slammed the door shut, "Alex, really? Fighting? Blind?" The younger brother flinched at his words, "You don't understand, I love it and I'm good at it, Brady I'm actually good at something! Please?" Brady looked at his faded green eyes and exhaled, "What does mom say about this?" Alex ducked his head, "Right, cause mom doesn't know." Brady nodded, "And it needs to stay that way." "What?" "I don't want her finding out about this just yet." Brady looked their hands still on the metal door handle. "Please, B?"

Monica hummed as the summer breeze made her red and yellow sundress flow. She clicked the button, locking her car before entering the market. Light background music filled her ears as she shopped for what she needed, Monica smiled as she saw Alex's favorite snack and placed in the green basket, "I love your dress, it's beautiful." an old woman complimented as she walked by, "Thank you." she smiled back. Monica checked her list, noticing she's still missing one item, "Excuse me, ma'am, where is the soups?" a woman in a white shirt turned around as she was unpacking. "That'll be on aisle 3." Monica smiled, "Thank you." "You're welcome." Monica saw her named tag said 'Manager'. "Oh, I just also wanna ask, how is Alex doing?" the woman furrowed her brows, "I'm sorry?" "Alex Flex, my son, he works here." she nodded her head. "No one under that name works here." "There has to be some kind a of mistake, he works in the back." She pointed, "No ma'am, I'm the manager, I know all my employee's." Monica felt the basket suddenly get heavier, her eyes squinting at the information she had received. She gasped as she felt a hand on her arm, "Oh! Girl I'm sorry, didn't mean to scare you." Another woman says chuckling, "Julie." Monica holds her hand to her chest, exhaling. "I saw you and I wanted to check in on you and see how your family is doing." Julie told, Monica gulped nodding her head and smiled. "They're good, Richard is working hard as a boss." "How does Brady feel about his dad being his boss?" Julie giggled, "He loves it, he loves working hard, always has." "And your baby boy?" Monica silently sighs, tugging on her necklace. "Alex is good." Julie was confused at how blunt she was, "Didn't he just turned twenty-three?" Monica shook her head, "Yep." "Any plans on him moving out any time soon?" "Not that I know of." Monica chuckled, "But what do I know?" Julie chuckles along with her. The dark wooden table dinning table glistened in the warm lighting as Alex sat. He chewed on the sandwich in the early evening, enjoying the peace and quiet, but it soon ended by a loud slam. Alex heard heels click against the flooring, growing louder till they reached the kitchen. The crinkling sound of bags made a thud on the counter top. "What is wrong with you?" Alex was taken back at the harsh words his mother told, "What?" "Don't 'what' me, Alex." Monica hissed back. "I'm sorry but, I'm confused." He squinted, wiping his hands on a napkin. "I know, Alex." Monica placed a hand on her hip, "Know what?" "I know." Alex gluped. "Listen-" Alex placed a hand in front of him as he stood, "No! You listen." Monica started walking closer to her son, who hung his head. "Why did you lie about working at a store?" Alex looked at her in almost relief, "I thought you would be proud of me.." Monica furrowed her brows and crossed her arms. "So, lying to me, your father and brother about getting a job that you don't even work at is suppose to make me proud of you? I'm sorry but that's complete utter bullshit." Alex sighed, "Why do I even have to tell you anyway?" Monica's jaw dropped as he started to walk back to the table. "Excuse me? Last time I checked you still lived under my roof and I have the right to know why you lied to me!" "Well maybe I don't want to tell you every fucking thing that goes on in my life, alright?!" "Whoa, Hey, what's going on here?" From all the yelling, Monica and Alex didn't hear the front door open. Richard looked at the both of them, Monica looked at her husband and stood on her tip toes. "Your son lied about getting a job." Richard looked at Alex, as his hands were lost in his pockets, "Son, why would you lie about that?" Alex hated to tell a lie, especially to his father. "Are you on drugs? Drinking?" Monica blurted out, "What? No." Alex grunted in frustration, "Ugh! I'm not doing drugs or drinking! I've been boxing." "What?!" Monica yelled, leaving Richard silent, which made her even more furious. "Are you serious?" Alex opened to his mouth to say something but nothing came out, "Richard, aren't you gonna say something?" Monica looked up at her husband, Alex looked towards his father's voice, waiting for him to say everything that was wrong with the idea. "What can I say? Honey, Alex is twenty-three years old, I can no longer tell him what to do, even if it's stupid. I'm not going to treat him like a child, he's an adult and he'll learn like one. Plain and simple." Monica scuffed at the words that were coming out of his mouth, Alex was surprised but certainly happy that his father was on board. "I cannot belive what I'm hearing." She threw her hands in the air, "My first fight is this Saturday, I would love for you to be there.. both of you." "You're crazy if you think I'm going." Monica told, "Please, mama?" She shook her head, without Alex not being able to see, he knew. "Look, I'll make you a deal." Alex walked towards his mom, "If I lose, I won't fight again and I'll go to college." She smiles, "But, if I win, I'm gonna stay and become a boxer." Monica looked up at her son, who had a smirk on his face that she couldn't say no to. Alex had his eyes closed, his neck arched as he sat on the bench in the locker room. He snickered as he heard the crowd cheer through the thick brick wall from the next room over. Eddie quickly caught Alex's attention when he entered the room, "You nervous?" He asked, crossing his arms. "Nah." He shook his head, standing up. "It's okay to be, you know?" Eddie told, Alex nodded adding a smile. "Nerves fuel the body." Eddie sighed under his breath, watching the young boy punch the air in his red gloves. "Ready?" "Ready as I'll ever be." Alex jumped. "Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for attending tonight's fight. I'm your host, Fred Coan." "And I'm co-host, Jerry Kline." "It's going to be a great one as two young men go head to head. Conner 'Buster' Collins and Alex Flex who doesn't have a name yet, as this is his first ever fight." "I think I hear some music, Fred." Jerry smiled, looking over his shoulder as the lights shined on the man who entered the arena. "You're right, Jerry. Here comes Conner 'Buster' Collins, ladies and gentlemen. This is his third fight, with one win and one lose. So, expect his score to change after this fight." Fred chuckled into the microphone, turning back to watch the fighter enter the ring. The music fades out and the bright lights shadow over the two men. "There's the new kid in town, Alex Flex. I say it again this is his first fight, Jerry." "I heard ya, my friend. Now, there's something you should know about Flex, and this has never happened in the world of boxing, now has it?" "No, it has not." "The fact is, Alex is blind, yes you heard correctly. The first ever blind boxer in American history, does it say in the rule book that this is allowed?" "We have checked all the rules and it does not say you can't be blind and compete, Jerry." "Alright, well you heard it ladies and gentlemen. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Eddie's rough hand's were placed on Alex's sweaty, smooth shoulders as they walked up the steps and into the ring. Alex stretched his arms, cracking his neck, bouncing on his tip toes. "Do you see my parent's?" Eddie paused what he was doing and his eyes darted to the crowd and landed on the familiar green orbs. "Your brother." Alex sighed silently, bowing his head. Heels and a pair of boots clicked on the concrete, Richard's hand were on Monica's side as she was rushing into the building. Heavy boots continuously tapped on the floor, finger placed on lips and eyes focused on his baby brother. "Brady!" He looked up waving his calloused hand in the air, motioning his parents to sit next to him. "Did we miss anything?" Richard asks taking the empty chair by his wife who had been silent the whole ride. "They just introduced them." Brady told, the room became quiet as the announcer stood in the middle of the ring. "Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to tonight's fight. I'm Ralph Fletcher and on my left is Conner Collins, and standing here to my right is, Alex Flex. Let's get ready to rumble!" "Okay, men. You know what to do, no rabbit punches, now low blows. I want a clean fight, alright? Tap gloves and stand back." The referee ordered, he blew the whistle. "Fight." Alex walked forward, circling around the man in front of him, his feet stayed swift and quiet, focusing on the other movement Conner made. Alex's glove touched his left cheek, earning a cheer from the crowd. Conner brushed it off, dodging one hit and smacking Alex's head. Spinning circles in his mind, he blink, getting one good in the opponents face. "Good job, A!" Brady yelled out, cupping his hands together. Monica's worried eyes went in many directions as the two fight danced around the box. The bell rung, Alex grunted, "Damn that's loud." Eddie gripped on his shoulder, "Remember what I told ya, what'd I say?" "Mute everything around you and focus on the other guy's feet." Alex shook his head. Alex turned, placing his gloved covered hands in front of his chest, Conner landed a hit on his side, "Come on hit me!" Alex backed up his arm, forcing a jab to hit, nothing. Alex's body flew onto the hard floor, hearing the 'Get up's.' 'Come on.' 'Not fair.' and even laughter, moved him to stand up. "Let's go, boy!" Conner threw out, pressing his blue gloves together. Alex sighed, closing his eyes and walked around with him, Alex flew a hard jab to his nose, causing him to back away. The bell rang, he smiles, bowing his head and walked back to Eddie. "Did I mention your parents are here?" He quickly rose his head, "They made it?" Alex smiles. "Go put him down, son." Eddie rubbed his head, sweat beads falling off his glowing body. The two boxers continued to circle around each other, hitting and dodging one another, hearing the boo's and cheer's. Fourth round, Alex's tired body swayed side to side, huffing and puffing. "Come on, brother!" Brady yelled, "You can do it son!" Richard clapped, standing up. He looked down to his wife, arms crossed and teary eyed. "Monica, he's our son. He's not our baby anymore. He found something, something he truly loves. It may not be what you thought, but for him to really shine, you have to be his light, not his darkness." Monica's red painted nails wrapped around his fingers, standing up. "You can do it, Alex!" Suddenly, everything stopped for him. Alex looked towards his mother's words, she smiled at him as he smiled back. Alex barely let the floor make a peep as he danced around Conner, bloody and in pain Conner looked up at him, watching as Alex backed his arm, coming in contact with his temple. Alex made a left jab in Conner's right cheek making him completely go down. The whole crowd roared through the building, Eddie ran to his side, as well as the media and the ref. "Congratulation's to Alex Flex with his first win!" "That was amazing!" "Since this is your first win, do you think you could make a career out of it?" Alex let a small, tired sigh, smiling with his arm around Eddie's shoulder. "Come on, champ." "Wait, there's something I gotta do." Alex told, Eddie knew and guided him out of the ring. "Great job, brotha'!" Brady laughed, picking him up. "Thanks, B" Alex chuckled, "I'm proud of you son." Richard shook his head, "Thanks, dad." Monica looked up at her son, like it was the first day he was born. "Ma?" She engulfed him in a hug, not caring he was in pain. "I love you too, ma." He hugged back. Alex sat on the bench, relaxing after the big fight that happened yesterday. He listened as the other men in the gym worked out, "Hey, fighter." Eddie walked up behind him. Alex chuckled, his bones still aching, bruises peppering his skin all over. Eddie looked at his 'barely there' black eye, "So, what's on your mind?" Alex flicked his finger on his lip as he thought. "To be honest, I'm surprised I won that fight, Ed." "I believe most first time boxers think the same." Eddie replied, grunting as he sat across from him. "Do you think I have a chance in this world?" Alex looked up, Eddie looked him in the eyes. "As long as your hearts in it kid, you have a bigger shot than anyone else." Alex smiled but, quickly faded as he heard the front door open, "Thanks, Russo." "No prob-" "I'm sorry to interrupt but, is a Alex Flex here?" A girl's voice asked, Eddie and Alex turned their attention to her. Eddie stood up, "Who's askin'?" the girl chuckled nervously. "I'm CeCe Stewart, I work for the newspaper and I-" "I'm sorry but, I don't want my boy's face plastard all over the media." Eddie crossed his arms, frowning at the young girl. "I understand, I just thought someone like Alex, would maybe inspire some people like him." Eddie sighed, "Hey, I got it, man." Alex nodded his head, Eddie looked up and down at her and pointed a finger. "Don't get in his head." CeCe placed her shoulder bag beside her as she sat down, "Hello, I'm CeCe." she held out her hand and her cheeks rose in red. "You stuck out your hand out, didn't you?" Alex rested his palm on his knee, "I-I am so sorry, I feel so embarrassed." she giggled, Alex joined her. "You'd be surprised if I told ya I get that a lot actually, people tend to forget." CeCe looked up at him, the sunlight glazed over his green eyes, she'd be lying if she didn't think he was kind of cute. "Do you mind if I ask a couple of questions?" CeCe asks, taking out her notepad and a pen. "Ask away." "Okay, so you're Alex Flex and you're?" "Twenty three." "Only a year older than me." CeCe chuckles. "When did you loose your eyesight?" "Completely loose it? I was fourteen. I had been diagnosed with it when I was twelve." "Ah, I got you." CeCe understood, writing it down, saving the information. "Yeah." Alex nodded. "I heard you won you're first fight last night." "Indeed I did." Alex chuckles. "Unfourtantly I wasn't there, I had no idea about it, I'm not really into the fighting thing." CeCe frowned, putting her stuff away. "Then how come you're interviewing me?" Alex scuffed, confusion was written all over his face. "I heard some of my co-writters talk about it, and I'm the one who writes what's new or a story." "Ah." Alex nodded, still confused. "Could I write a small paragraph about you?" Alex looked in front of him where she sat, and thought. He didn't know if he wanted to be a public figure, or if he was ready to be one. Alex had already gotten some looks, and harassment from life, he didn't know if he was willing to go through with this knowing it might get worse. "Keep it short." Alex pointed, his tone was firm. "Yes, I will." She stood up, gathering her bag. "Oh, one more thing." CeCe said, picking up a camera. "We writers have to include a picture." Alex shook his head, looking in front of him, a click went off

The Daily News

Blind Boxer?

Meet Alex Flex, a 23 year old who lives right here, in the heart of Dallas, Texas. Alex has a passion for boxing, despite his disability (blindness) which he was diagnosed when he was just twelve years old age. Flex won his first fight last night against Conner 'Buster' Collins, in case you missed it, check it out! (next page).

"How does it look?" Alex asked, standing behind Eddie as they were surrounded by the whole gym. "You're drop dead gorgeous." Johnny joked, gently pushing his shoulder. "I do try." Alex joked back. "It looks good, Alex." Andy told him. "I was kind of scared of what that girl was going to put." Alex told the room. "Alright, everyone go back to what you were doing." Eddie said, walking away from the group of men, the sound of crinkling filled Alex's ears. Eddie sighed as he walked in his office, dropping the newspaper on the desk. Alex leaned against the door frame. "I'm guessing you're not a fan of the media?" "No, never have been." Eddie fisted his hands together. "Care to explain why?" Alex asked, walking in and taking a seat. "They spread bad shit, kid." Eddie told a little too harshly, looking at him. Alex stayed silent, not knowing what to say to the man who had his own opinions. "It's not a good idea to stay in it. Just keep fighting, stay out of the media, Alex." Eddie ordered, Alex nodded.

The night came sooner than later, bright lights glowed over the roads. As three men walked the city, engaging in their conversations. "I can't believe you've never been to a bar." The tallest in the group said. "Yeah, like what do you do if you're bored?" Andy looked at Alex who walked in between the men. "Go to the gym." Johnny and his baby brother burst out in laughter, Alex chuckled, shaking his head. "We'll show you some fun, man." Andy wrapped his arm around his shoulder as they walked into a bar. "Hey! It's the Russo brother's!" The owner yelled out, slapping his hand against them. "How are ya, Tommy?" Johnny asks letting go of his hand. "Running this joint, what bout you?" "Working hard in the gym, pops is training this guy right here." Johnny pointed at Alex who stood with his hands in his pockets. "You're Alex Flex, right?" Tommy asked, before Alex could answer him Johnny interrupted him. "Oh yeah, he's a bad ass." Johnny chuckled, looking at the quiet man. "Sit, sit." Tommy told, grabbing a couple of beers for the gentlemen. "So, Alex, how'd you get into boxing?" Tommy opened his beer.

The door swung open as the three wasted men slummed out, holding onto one another. The empty sidewalk echoed with laughter as they walked. "Aannd that's how I-Johnny Russsso, lost his virginity to a worthless, cheating-ass, fuckin' bitch." Johnny slurred his words, getting angry with each word. "Ahhh, I-I'm sorry, man." Alex said, looking up at the tall guy. "Hey! Alex, my brother is a big boy, he's fine!" Andy told, his feet stumbled. "Yeaaah, I'm the biggiest, baddest boy there is!" Johnny yelled, rising his shirt sleeve up to flex his biceps. "Impressive." Alex nodded, "That ain't nothin', check this out!" Andy mimicked his brother, Johnny and Alex burst out in laughter, causing Johnny to fall onto the concrete. "Fuckin' dumb ass. You're so stupid." Andy laughed harder, holding his stomach. The three men continued to laugh as they stayed on the sidewalk, Johnny layed against the brick wall, Andy held onto a newspaper stand as he threw up. Alex struggled to stand still, his body moving back and forth, rubbing his palms on his forehead. "Look at these assholes." A voice appeared in the darkness. "Is that Flex?" Another voice said, the street light hovered over Alex as Johnny and Andy were in the dark. "What's up, cheater?" Alex squinted his eyes, focusing on the three new voices that belonged to men. "Who the fuck you callin' cheater?" Alex asked. "I am, remember me?" A face finally appear into the light. "Conner?" "Damn right." Connors's tone was forward and harsh. "How did I cheat?" Alex snarled, his nose wrinkled in anger. "Because, you're blind. People feel sorry for you, you rigged the fight somehow." "Yes, cause I have the power do so, you're fuckin' crazy." Alex scuffed, shaking his head. "What'd you call me, asshole?" Conner walked towards him, Johnny quickly stood up, Conner stopped in his track. "Get the fuck outta my way, you freak." Conner looked up from his pecks and into his face. "Nah, I'm good." Johnny snickered. "Fine." Conner attempted to push him out of his way, but failed. "Hey! Get the hell off of my brother!" Andy came out of the darkness and punched Conner in the cheekbone. "Agh! You bitch!" Conner hissed, holding his now forming bruise cheek. Conner's friend pushed Johnny out of his way as Conner walked towards Andy and began to punch him. Alex heard his groans, and reached for Conner's shirt. "Hey! Hit me, I'm the one you want!" "How about I just beat the both of you." Conner told back. Andy punched his neck, causing him to move backwards into Alex's hold. Alex jabbed him in his back, Conner yelled out. Johnny took on the two other's with ease until one of them hit his knees, his weakness. "Johnny!" Alex gasped out when the tall man went down. Conner grabbed Alex's shoulder, giving him a black eye and began to continuously hit him in the ribs. Andy took of hold of one the men's leg and dragged him on the concrete, scraping the side of his face. He then turned the hurt man on his back and broke his nose. Johnny stood up as the guy was on his shoulders, Johnny reached up, grabbing his head and slammed him into the sidewalk. Conner held onto Alex's shirt collar, while his face was covered in blood, no sound could escape his mouth. Johnny's knees stumbled, he fisted his hands, rage filled his veins. "Leave. Him. Alone." Johnny's big hand fisted around his skull, pinching his hair as he stood him up and threw Conner's body against the brick wall. Johnny picked up Alex as he struggled to breath, carrying him away from the group of men. "Come on." Johnny tapped his foot on his brother's side, making Andy stop hitting the unconsciousness man.

"Turn to the right." Flash. "Face forward." Flash. Alex let his arms fall to the side as he held onto the board, his face burned from last night's event. The jail cell opened, Johnny and Andy sat waiting for his return from the nurse. "Your face isn't that bad." Johnny comment, his face twitched as he looked at the bruises on Alex's swollen cheek. "You couldn't tell a damn thing with all that blood." Andy looked over at his brother, Alex sighed heavily as he sat down, pinching his nose. A headache from drinking was forming, getting worse by the second. It grew silent between them, the only thing you heard was phone's going off and chatters from the police officers. A familiar voice echoed through the small building, making them raise their heads. "There's my boys." Eddie raced to the cell, Johnny and Andy ran to greet him through the bars. Eddie looked at Alex who was still sitting down on the cold bench. "Come on, son." Alex raised his head up, furrowing his brows. "Let's go home." The car ride through the night was silent, street lights passing by as Eddie drove. Guilt and hopelessness filled the energy around the young men. Eddie finally broke the quiet, "I don't care who started or ended it. I'm just glad that they're not pressing charges against any of y'all." he gripped the steering wheel, looking back at his boys. "They're not?" Andy spoke up, "No." he shook his head. Johnny was dissapointed in himself, even if his father wasn't, he was. As the oldest of the group, he thought he should've been more mature about the situation. Andy was just a baby compared to Johnny and Alex, protecting his brother and best friend. Alex felt like this was the most awful thing that could've happened, especially now. The car came to a stop, Alex looked to his right, seeing the dirt road that lead to his home. The handle clicked as he got out, Eddie greeted him. Johnny and Andy watched as the two talked outside the car. "If you think that this ruined your career, it didn't." Eddie looked at the boy who had guilt written all over. "Shit like this happens, and it sucks. But, Alex, you have to be smart about it. You can't just beat up a couple of guys beside a bar." "We weren't, it was-" "Self defense I know. It's okay, I'm not mad at any of you. Just be smart, let that shit go and keep doing what you're doing, alright?" Eddie met Alex's eyes, the crickets beginning to fill the silence. "Thanks, man." Alex hugged Eddie tightly. "You bet." Eddie slapped his back before letting him go. Johnny and Andy waved a goodbye as he began to walk into the darkness.

As days, weeks and months went on. Alex fought over twelve guys, wining all of them. His fame rose to the top, everyone knew who Alex 'Daredevil' Flex was. Johnny and Andy began to also fight along side him, earning Russo's Gym more money. Richard and Monica were proud of their son as he became better and better not only as a fighter, but a person. Brady was always right there in the front row for his baby brother, constantly telling him how great of job he did. The press followed him, always asking him question where ever he went, when Alex promoted Eddie as his manager, he hired his own son to become the bodyguard for certain occasions. "What a knockout!" "Look at that jab work!" "Another win for Alex Flex." "This is Alex's fifteenth win of his career!" The red glove that held against Alex's hand, met his opponent's temple causing him to go down within seconds. The crowd stood to their feet, as the referee counted to ten, he was out. Alex raised his arms in the air, sweat droplet's fell to the ring. The corner's of his lips formed a smirk as his fans cheered him on. Johnny and Eddie pushed aside the press as they made their way to his locker room, "Not now!" Eddie's voice roars to the people before Johnny shut the door. "You did fantastic tonight, kid." Eddie told, he slick back his grey hair as he took off his beanie and sat down. Alex smiled at him as he pulled a shirt over his head, "Going to go celebrate tonight at Tommy's." Alex offered. "Ah, no. I think I'm just gonna head home, don't drink too much, gotta train tomorrow." Eddie said standing up, "Come on, Russo. You never want to hang unless it's at the gym, which is not hanging out by the way." Alex pointed, chuckling. "Alright, fine-" The door opened which caught their attention, "Sorry to intrude." a voice said. "CeCe?" Alex furrowed his brows, questioning the girly voice. "Hi, how you doing?" She smiled, tucking her things under her arm. "I'm good." Alex shook his head, hands resting on a chair. "That's good." Eddie crossed his arms together once again, not liking where this was going. "May I ask what you're doing here?" Eddie asked politely-which was hard for him. "I wanted to write about you in the newspaper for tomorrow." "Again?" Alex asked, "Well you've grown a lot since I last talked to you, you're practically famous now." CeCe chuckles, Alex liked the word famous beside his name. "Sure." He agreed, Eddie stuck out his watch, "If we wanna make those reservations, we better leave now." "Oh shit, yeah." Alex gasped lightly, "Hey, why don't you come with?" CeCe looked up, "Oh no, I don't want to bother your party." "No, it'll be fun. The more the merrier." Alex smiles. The bar was filled with loud music, chatters, tv and bottles clinking together as the night was about celebration. Friends and family cheered on Alex as he walked into the small building, his back was tapped with pats for his success. "Good job, buddy!" "Hey, way to go brother." "Here's the real champ." Alex smiled as he walked down the aisle, nice encouraging words filled his ears, something he earned for. "Thanks, everybody." Alex nods to the people he was close to, "First round is on me, fighter." Tommy told, wiping the clean mug with his rag. "Wow, it's nice to be famous." Alex chuckled, taking his first swig of beer. "Can I have a hug or are ya too famous for ya brother?" Brady laughed, coming up behind him, "Ah, shit. Come here." Alex gripped onto his brother. "You did good, A. I'm proud of you." Brady told, rubbing his dirty blonde hair before he pulled away. "Thanks, B. Thank you for always being there for me, couldn't have done it without you." Brady smiled at his brother, his faded green eyes sparkled for once. Brady knew he was happy, it was a long time coming for the young man. "No problem." "Have time for the little people?" Monica asks, "Get over here, ma." Alex kissed her hair. Monica looked up at her youngest son, it almost made her eyes well up with tears as happy he seemed with his life. It was dawning on her that, if she never let him be who he is truly supposed to be, it'd killed her with the guilt it would've caused. "I love you, baby." "Love you too, mama." Alex smiled down at her before hearing his father's grunt. "Couldn't be more proud of you, Alex." Richard squeezed Alex's shoulder, "Keep up the good work, alright?" "Will do, pop." Alex nodded. "Now is it my turn?" CeCe giggled, raising her eyebrow at the man sitting at the bar. "Ah, I'm sorry." Alex sighed, "I'm all ears." he smiled. CeCe took a seat beside him, taking out her notepad and pen. "And that's how my brother and I fell into the pond and wrestle a bass, gotta scar to prove it." Alex smirked, quickly laughing along with CeCe. "Wow, I didn't know you used to wrestle." She said, sipping on her water, Alex chuckled before finishing his beer. CeCe silently sighed to herself as she counted the seventh bottle, not including the shots of tequila that was on the house. His hand going up once again, ordering another one. "You like to drink don't ya?" Her face was questioning, she was glad he couldn't read her mind. "Nah, I'm just celebrating that's all." Alex shook his head at her before taking a swig. "Yeah, I know Tony, we were just talking about that yesterday." "Now, don't get me wrong, Wayne. Alex Flex is a great fighter, but up against Jake Hammer? Guy doesn't stand a chance." Alex furrowed his brows as he listened to the voices, he turned his head to the right. "Turn that up would ya?" Tommy pressed the button, turning up the volume on the t.v. "I have to agree with you there, I mean they don't call him 'Shatterproof' for nothing." Alex snarled at the laughter that filled the air, the alcohol pumping through his veins. Alex looked down at the counter, his grip on the glass became tighter and tighter until it broke. "Whoa!" Tommy's eyes grew and started to clean up the mess, Alex didn't apologize as his anger worsen. "Jake is a monster, I mean take a look at this knockout!" "And that was only in round one!" "Alex Flex is nothing compared to this man." The chair squeaked back, causing the room to become quiet. Alex craned his neck to the t.v that hung on the wall, listening. "I can take on that guy no problem!" Alex yelled, chatters filled the tension. "I ain't nothing!" His voice rose more with anger, "I'm Alex Flex, I can fight whoever the fuck I want!" Johnny touched his tense shoulder, Alex swatted at it. "Don't touch me!" Alex looked behind him, the stares he got didn't phase him nor did the whispers. The angry man turned his attention back to the screen, gripping the edge of the counter top with his fists. "Jake's score is twenty four, with no loses! Can you believe that?" "Could you turn that off?" Eddie asked, leaning over the bar. Alex pushed himself off the counter in quick motion, his footsteps slammed against the hardwood floor. "No, No. Don't turn that off!" Alex roared, "Come on, turn it back on." "I'm sorry-" "NOW!" Alex pointed, making everyone in the room shake in fear of the what to be appear a drunken-angry boxer. "Let's go, Alex." Eddie told in a soft voice, careful not to tip him off any more. "I'm good, I'm good." Alex grunted through his teeth, walking back to his seat by CeCe who was wide eyed about the scene. The room watched as he hung his head, holding himself against the bar. Music continued on, people went back to socializing and drinking. Alex muted everything around him, his knuckles were white, the words spun around his brain like a merry-go-round. Alex squinted his eyes shut as it kept going, he felt a hand on his forearm, he flinched at it, causing CeCe to gasp at his reaction. Alex's fingers gripped what was closes, he smashed the black bar stool into pieces. "Fuck you! Fuck all of you sorry sons of bitches!" Alex spat at ceiling, Johnny and Andy got a hold of his arms, Eddie sighed at what was unfolding. "Let go!" "Calm down." Johnny tried, struggling to stay still with his moving arms. "Don't mess with me!" Alex got out of the strong hold and pushed the tall man away. "Come on, man. Don't be like this." Andy voice was worried, "What? I like who I am. I'm Alex Fucking Flex! Who the fuck are you?" Alex spat. "Hey!" Eddie's voiced roared, causing to Alex look behind him. "Don't talk to anyone like that, you hear?" Alex chuckled, his breath hitched. "What do you know, old man?" "What do I know?" Eddie laughed under his breath, walking closer to the man. "I know that you don't have a manager anymore, boy." Alex glared at Eddie as he passed him, "Fine, go! I don't need you! I don't need anybody!" Alex screamed. A hand grabbed a hold of Alex's collar, pulling him out of the bar and into the night. "Hey! Get yo-" Alex gasp as a hand met his sore cheek, he hissed at the sudden pain. "Have you lost your damn mind?" Alex closed his eyes as his mother's words, Brady's grip loosen as he seemed to calm down. "What is wrong with you Alex? What happened? Tonight's was supposed to be about you celebrating for becoming a professional boxer, not about you becoming the world's biggest jerk." Monica yelled, her words piercing his body like if he was in the ring. Alex lifted his head, Brady looked at his brother, his eyes read anger and disappointment like his mother's. "They were talking shit on my name." Alex spoke softly, his hands finding the pockets of his jeans. "And is that true? All those words true about you? No they're not, if you keep this act up, it will be true, you will be nothing. I agreed to you fighting and winning. I didn't agree for you to let that fame get inside your brain and make you cocky. You need to get your head straight, Alex. Stop acting like a damn child who doesn't like what a couple guys say about him." Alex sighed heavily, Monica crossed her arms and walked closer to him. "You know, Alex. I can't tell you what to do, or even what to say. You're a grown man who should know the right's and wrong's about this world. You wanna fight? Fine go ahead, I'm right there with you. You wanna act like a cocky, arrogant, always angry drunk? Go ahead, but you're gonna have to do it without me." Alex felt a breeze as she passed him and into the bar, Brady looked at Alex as he seemed feeling aside from himself. Alex heard his heavy boots scrape the concrete, "I don't know what's going inside that brain of yours." Alex scuff, chuckling. "Brady, you don't what it's like to be in my shoes. You don't know what it's like to win." Alex snarled at him, his nose wrinkling in anger, they shared a look, the mixture of worried and hurt filled Brady's eyes. "No, Alex, I don't. But, I do know what it's like to lose somebody who is so lost that he doesn't even know who he is anymore." Brady took one last look at his little brother before disappearing in the night.

The locker room felt colder than usual, there wasn't any jokes or advice being thrown at him to make the fight easier. No arm to hang onto as they walked in the spotlight, no one to call him 'kid' or 'son'. Alex struggled to tighten his own gloves on, his teeth gripping the tape around his palm. The world didn't seem to bother him at the moment, his mind was clouded with one thought and one thought only. It wasn't his parents, Eddie, the girl he struggled to remember her name, his best friends or his brother. Alex was determined, had a drive to do this one task and he wanted the whole world to see it too. Put it in the books, newspaper, take your pictures, ask your questions, but just please watch me do this one thing and it'll all be okay. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, it's time for what you all have been waiting for. Alex 'Daredevil' Flex against Jake 'Shatterproof' Hammer." Jerry Kline told the crowd through the microphone. "It should be great one, Fred." Richard frowned at the screen in front of him, he looked to his right, seeing Monica practically beg through the t.v for Alex to stop with her eyes. Richard's hand landed on hers, "You've done all you could." he kissed her temple. "Here comes the champ of twenty four wins with no loses, Jake Hammer!" "I'll say, Jerry. This guy is a beast!" "That he is, Fred, that he is." Johnny flipped through the channels, as Andy sat next to him. Eddie grunted when he sat down in his chair, Johnny looked at his father, who hasn't talked much to him since the night everyone departed. Andy barely spoke a word, unless it was about Alex or the night, or both. Johnny stayed strong for his dad and brother, he was the glue that held them together, much like his mother did. "Leave it." Johnny's finger hovered over the button, he watched as Eddie sat up from his recliner to watch the young boy he trained. Jake cracked his neck as he stood in the ring, his dark eyes looking over the crowd, his black attire flowed as he bounced on his feet. The music stopped as it skipped to the next. Half of the stadium began to cheer him on as he entered the room. "Here comes, Alex Flex. It appears that he doesn't have his manager Eddie Russo with him." "He sure doesn't, hopefully it doesn't effect his fighting." The dark room was lit by the colors of the t.v screen, the leather couch glowed by the light. The sound of a dog barking echoed through the apartment, "Agh! I'm coming." Brady grunted in the kitchen and sprinted to the living room. "I didn't miss anything, did I Rex?" Brady pet the black Great Dane as he sat beside the massive dog. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I'm your announcer, Ralph Fletcher. On my right stands a two-hundred-fifteen pound, six-four, Jake 'Shatterproof' Hammer!" "And, weighing at one-hundred-fifty pounds, six-one, Alex 'Daredevil' Flex!" Johnny and Andy's nails were in their mouths, nerves chomping away. Eddie mumbled words to himself about how crazy Alex was. "Touch gloves and back away." Jake smirked down at Alex, pushing down his red gloves harshly. "Good luck, blindy." He laughed as he began to walk away, Alex grabbed a hold of his shoulder, but Jake pushed him back causing him to fall. "What was that?" Richard leaned forward watching as the referee tried to break the two up before the bell rung. Monica sighed, shaking her head. "Break apart!" "What's wrong Alex? You getting worried? Trying to catch me off guard?" "Man, fuck you." Alex spat in his face. "Round one hasn't even started and the men are already going at each other's throats." Jerry told, looking over at the ring that was filled with people trying to separate the boxers. Eddie groaned, his head falling into his hands. Johnny's eyes went to the screen to his father, knowing there was no words to say to make it okay. "Alright. You calm? You calm? You two good now? Save it for the fight, boys." The referee said, the end of each hand touching the air between the fighter's chest. The bell rung. "Fight." Alex lifted his shoulders, his gloves hovering over his chest, listening to the sounds Jake made with his feet. "You're going down, chump." Jake told before hitting Alex in the eyelid, Alex hissed at the pain, looking up at him. Alex darted at giant, Jake slid to his right, dodging Alex's body. The crowd boo'ed the two fighters, Alex adjusted himself, stretching out his arms before circling around the ring. "Why isn't he doing anything I've told him? Haven't you learned anything I taught you?" Eddie told Alex through the t.v, he folded his sweaty hands as he study his movements. Jake pounced on his heels, jabbing a hard hit against Alex's forehead. Alex's feet stumbled underneath him, causing him to lose balance and fall. "Man, give me a challenge!" Jake shouted, his body shadowed over him, Alex grunted as he struggled to stand. Jake chuckled to himself as put his hands on his hips, Alex swayed his body, "Come on, hit me." his mouth guard showed. "Don't mind if I do." Jake sprinted to the hurt man, Alex gave him his own medicine and dodged it. "Nice one, A." Brady shook his head, he rested his chin on his knuckles. The light glowed on his worried face as he watched the boxer's continue to hit one another til the bell rung. "Wow, that is the end of round one, ladies and gentlemen. What a sight to see with these two." Jerry's voice echoed the building, watching them go to their own corner's. Jake's manager talked into his ear as his crew indeed to his one cut. Alex bowed his head when he stood back facing to the opponents, his arms dangling on the rope. "Come on, just let it go, Alex." Monica whispered to herself, twirling the necklace the wrapped around her neck as nerves settled in. The bell rung in Alex's ears, he slowly turned around, hearing Jake's unstoppable feet. Alex furrowed his brows as he tried to mute the sounds around him, voices began to fill his mind with words. "You are nothing!" "This guy has no chance." "You're gonna have to do it without me." Jake watched as Alex's face read confusion, his gloves reaching for his ears. "Shut up." Alex told himself, Jake looked around him, wondering. He shook it off and made the perfect opportunity to punch Alex, multiple times in the ribs. Alex held up his forearm in defense as Jake jabbed him, Alex yelled in pain and caught onto Jake's arms. "Get the fuck off of me!" Jake pushed off of him, and punch him in cheekbone. "I'm not your manager anymore, boy." "Don't be like this." "Alex, calm down." Alex raised his body up as his skin was pulsing, he could feel blood dripping down his face. Sweat poured from his hair, he could see Jake's form from the bright light. Alex's left eye was swollen shut, his chest rising as he struggled to breath from the hit in his lung. Jake was forming a jab, until the bell went off and the referee saved Alex. "Man, that was a close one!" "I'm not sure how long Flex can last, Fred." "I really hope this ends soon, it's a bloodbath." Alex's knees hit the floor as he lost control, he gripped the red rope in between his glove. Blood, sweat and tears running down his swollen face, his breathing was abnormal and his legs wobbled against him. Alex silenced a whimpered, the stadium was too loud to hear Alex's cry. "Let it go, baby. You don't have to prove anybody." Monica whispered, her palms touching as she looked up at the ceiling. Richard placed a warm hand on her thigh, rubbing it gently before kissing her head. Jake punched his black gloves together as the bell for the third round to began. Alex used to the ropes to lift himself off the ground, his face covered in cuts and bruises. "Don't do it, Alex." Brady begged, Rex moved his elbow from underneath him. "It's okay, Rex. My brother has to find who he is, even if it means losing everything he's got." Brady brushed the dog's head with his fingertips. "Round three." "Fight." Jake's dark eyes never left Alex's green ones, his body swaying as Jake danced around the young man. "Put em' up, Flex." Jake told him, Alex looked at nothing, but forward. Jake landed a hit on his shoulder, "I'm right here, let's go." Jake screamed at him. "What's he doing?" Andy's voice was filled with worried as he watched Alex stand there, Johnny hung his head as he already knew. "He's giving up." Eddie whispered. A moan left Alex's throat as Jake earned a hit to his ribs, Alex held onto his body. The world became silent, no audible could be heard from Alex. Jake's hot breath didn't phase Alex as he screamed in his face, blood and saliva left Alex's mouth causing his mouth piece to fall to the floor. Alex's feet stood still when he came back up, Jake closed his eyes, with full force and power he landed his last hit on Alex. "Oh, my god." Monica gasps loudly, covering her mouth. "Alex!" Johnny and Andy yelled at the screen. "Shit!" Brady ran a hand through his beard. Alex's body completely stood still, his unconsciousness body fell hard and fast onto the ring, causing a loud thud through the stadium.

The flowers brought life to the cold hospital room, machine's beeped continuously throughout the weeks. Alex's plum colored face stung when he would wake up from the nightmares, sweat poured down as his chest rose and fell. The i.v was cold, but the loneliness was far much colder. Alex listened to the rumbling of the nasty weather that would flicker through the small window. No familiar face will show in his room, only the nurses and doctors that checked in every now and then. Tears filled his swollen black eyes, soaking the blanket that laid across his bruised body. Voices from the television was background noise for whenever his past flashed in his thoughts. Alex's knuckles cracked as he down the painkillers, chasing it with water, his throat was hot and course. Three weeks felt longer than any fight, than any conversation, longer than those long days with the eye doctor.

The gown was untied as he sat up on the bed, cracking his neck before standing to his week feet. A plaid shirt pushed back his blonde locks, he winched as it stung his still healing face. Alex hung his head, yellow and purple decorated his rib when he buttoned the shirt. Alex stood up fully clothed, a heavy sighed escaped his lips before walking out of the room. The sun warmed his cold, stiff body when he walked outside, the familiar sounds and smells surrounded him. Alex's hand found his pockets and started to walk on the sidewalk. A yellow cab eased the brake as it came to a stop, his finger left his lip and fell onto his thigh. "Here's your stop." The man told, he fiddle with his jeans before the man spoke again. "No need to pay, it's an honor, Mr. Flex." A frown turned into a quick small smile, the car drove off, leaving Alex standing in front of a tall building. The sound of a dog barking, echoed through the apartment. "What is it Rex?" Brady questioned the dog that stood in the kitchen. Rex's deep bark rumbled as another knock at the door filled his ears. Brady's furrowed expression soon fell when he came face to face with his brother. "Alex?" Brady's green orbs danced on his unrecognizable body, "Hey, Brady." his voice croaked as he hasn't spoken much. A scruffy face Alex entered the apartment, he flinched at Rex's barking. "Hey, Shh." Brady assured the animal, "You got a dog?" the older sibling looked at him, his voice made his throat hurt. "Yeah, his name is Rex." "That's cool, I'm happy for you." Brady sighed as he looked down at his pet, "What are you doing here, Alex?" his swollen eyes met the green ones a few feet away. "Came here for no judgement." Brady licked his lips before crossing his arms, and shook his head. "How long have you've been out of the hospital?" Brady asked, leaning against the white counter top. "How'd you know I was in the hospital?" Brady scuff at the man who stood with his hands in his pockets. "Did you see the fight? Have you seen yourself?" "Is that supposed to be a joke?" "No! Alex, it's not." Brady told, he sighed and crossed his arms, "I came and visited you." he mumbled loud enough for Alex to hear. "I'm sorry." Alex started, "I'm sorry for everything I've done wrong." Brady darted his eyes to his. "Don't give me that guilt trip bullshit." Brady shook his head, "I'm not! I came looking for help and I found you!" Alex shouted through the stinging tears. "I am sorry for everything. I'm sorry for losing that damn fight, for being a dick at the bar, for going off on you and mom. I'm sorry if I ever let you down, Brady. I-I'm sorry for being a damn burden on you guys." Alex struggled as a sob was forming. "Hey. Hey." Brady walked towards his brother, Alex collapsed into his arms as they fell to the floor. "Hey, it's okay." Brady hushed him, "I-I'm s-sorry for losing m-myself." Brady closed his eyes as the harsh words slipped out of his mouth. "It's okay, A. I have you."

The light of the t.v over took the darkness of the apartment, soft voices that came from the show that glowed on Alex's tired body. Brady leaned up against the frame, watching over his slumber. The steel toed boots lightly tapped on the wooden flooring, Brady ducked down his head. "You're never a burden to me." His whisper lingered as Brady and Rex made their way to the bedroom. Brady ran a hand through his beard as his grey sweatpants swept the dark hallway, the morning light warmed the air through the sheer curtains. Brady looked at the couch, he furrowed his brows as it was empty. "A?" He called out, his eyes went to the bathroom, no sign of him. A paper laid on the coffee table between the t.v and leather couch, it crinkled as he picked it up. "Morning, Brady. Sorry for ditching early, need to take care of some more things. I wanted to thank you for always taking care of me and never judging me for anything. I'm glad you're my brother, I love you." Brady smiled at the note, "Love you too, buddy."

The gym stood quiet as Eddie swept the concrete, sipping on his third cup of coffee to help him clean in the early morning. A slam of the front door echoed the small building, "We're closed." Eddie told as he wiped the board. When he got no response, he grumbled and put the eraser down. "What are you deaf? I said we're clos-" Eddie turned his attention around. "No, but I am blind." "Alex?" Eddie squinted at the figure in the sunlight. "Hey." Alex softly spoke, "Like I said, we're closed." he repeated himself as he walked passed him and into the office. "I came to talk to you." Alex followed him, "My ears have suddenly became closed too." Eddie grunted as he sat. "Come on, man. Don't be like this." Eddie shot Alex look, "Funny, my son said the exact same thing to you before you left us." "Left you? You left me." Alex shot back. "What did you just say? If I recall, you were so lost in yourself that you forgot who was really there for you." "Mr. I am Alex Fucking Flex." Eddie added, grumbling as he flipped through the paper. Alex sighed, hanging his head. "Look, Eddie. I'm sorry for being selfish, I had no right to be an asshole to my manager or my friends. I wasn't thinking, but I am now. I'm the same old Alex you once knew." Eddie looked up and down at him. "Damn, son. He really did a number on you." Alex shook his head, "I just wanted to say how sorry I am, man." "It's alright. It takes a man to own up for his mistakes. I'm proud of you." Alex smiled, "Okay, well. I gotta go own up to my mistakes to a couple other people." he sighed headed for the door. "Good luck, kid." The bell rung throughout the building as Alex entered. Sounds of keyboards clicking, people chattering and paper being printed. "Can I help you?" a voice asked, the person gasped as Alex turned his head. "Oh, my goodness. Sir, are you okay?" Alex furrowed his brows at the lady, "I'm fine, ma'am. I'm actually looking for someone." the lady nodded, she ducked her forward, wondering why he stopped speaking. "Continue." She told, "Oh, her name is CeCe Stewart." "That will be down the hall, last room to your right." Alex coughed nervously, "Could you guide me there? I-I'm." Alex pointed at his eyes. "Oh, of course." Alex followed the sounds of her heels click on the floor, "Here you are." "Thanks." Alex hummed. "Oh, might want to go to a doctor, get those eyes checked out." Alex chuckled, nodding his head. "Will do, ma'am." Alex leaned up against the frame of the room, hearing a keyboard being typed on. "Yes?" CeCe asked the figure she saw standing in the corner of her eye. "Hello, my name is Bob and I have a friend, who says he would like a story made about him in the newspaper." CeCe stopped her typing, and grabbed a pen. "Okay, what would he want?" "He says, he's really sorry for making a fool of himself in front of a beautiful girl he wanted to get to know, but he feels like he blew it and thinks she doesn't want to speak to him ever again." CeCe furrowed her brows, dropping her pen before standing, "I'm sorry, who are you again-" CeCe covered her mouth with her hands. "Alex." She breathed out, "Are you okay?" her hand reached for his face, but she remembered and pulled away. "I meant what I said. I'm sorry, CeCe." Alex stood straight, her lips departed, "Don't worry about, Alex. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, you know.. after the fight and all." Alex sighed. "I made a huge mistake, everything I've done. I feel like I really blew it with everybody. CeCe, I just want you to know that I'm not an jerk, I was drunk-and that's no excuse. I've changed, I'm not like that anymore." CeCe smiled at him, "You're a good man, Alex. Don't be so hard on yourself. I think us normal people understand, and it's okay." "Really?" "Really." Alex sighed in relief. "So, does this mean you'll give me another chance?" "You're way too cute not too." Alex stood in front of his childhood home, everything felt like it used to, the summer breeze when they would play, the smell of fresh cut grass that Richard did earlier. Alex went up the steps that was connected to the two-story house. Alex stretched his hand out and felt the wooden door, he made a fist, but before he could knock, it opened. "Alex." Richard spoke, he looked up and down at his son. "Hey, dad." Alex looked up, "Come here, son." Richard engulfed him in a hug. "Who was at the door, honey?" Alex pulled away, Monica gasped out. "Ma-" Monica didn't care that he hissed at the pain when she hugged him tightly. "I came to say I'm sorry." Alex's chin rested on her shoulder. "I'm sorry for being a horrible son and going off on you guys." Monica pulled his shoulders off, "You're not a horrible son, Alex. You just got away from yourself and us." "I don't want you to say that because I look like this, I know what I did was wrong, don't feel sorry for me." Alex pointed at his face, Monica eyes watered at the sight of the bruises, cuts and bandages. "It's okay, son. We are all human." Richard squeezed his shoulder, "We're just happy you're okay." Monica added. "Thanks guys." "We love you." "Love you guys too." Alex chuckled for the first time as they all three hugged.

Lighting strike through the grey clouds with thunder rumbling the ground. The wind blew the door shut behind Alex as he entered the gym. It wasn't silent, the old sounds he used to hear everyday was once heard again. Alex cracked his knuckles, his feet glued to the floor, inhaling and exhaling before punching the bag. Eddie entered the room, hearing the grunts that left his mouth. Alex continued his moves, his kicks and jabs like it never left. Eddie would have to lie, if he didn't say he missed it. Alex pulled away from the punching bag, "I would understand if you said, you don't want to be my manager." Alex lifted his head at the man, "I didn't say anything." Eddie shook his head. Alex turned his attention back the bag and continued on. Johnny and Andy came rushing in from the weather, "Well, so much for running." Johnny gasped for air as he was bent over. "Yeah, totally." Andy agreed, rising up from the floor. Alex's eyes met Andy's for a brief moment. "Alex!" Andy rushed over at the man working out, "What?" Johnny exhaled before seeing his best friend. "I'm so-" "Shut up, man." Andy hugged him, Alex sighed, gripping his back. Johnny waited until his brother pulled away, Alex looked up. "I would hit you for being a dick, but looks like Jake already did that." "I deserve that." Alex nodded in agreement, he grunted when Johnny engulfed him in a hug. "Ain't this a sight to see?" Eddie smiled at the trio, "Good to have you back, son." Alex shook his hand. "Hey! Guys, might want to hear this." Jason spoke up as he turned the t.v up. "We actually have Jake 'Shatterproof' Hammer with us. How's it going, Jake? Welcome to the show." Tony looked over at Jake sitting beside him. "I'm awesome, thanks for having me." "It's an honor. So, question. I understand a lot of people of been asking you to do a rematch with Alex Flex. What's your thoughts on that?" "Well, Tony. I'm all for winning yet again, so, yeah." Jake chuckled. "Great, that's great news. I just hope Flex is ready for you, if not, he better start training." "Ain't no training gonna save him, sir. You can train all day and night, but that doesn't matter once you're in the ring, all you gotta do it beat the other guy. That's all that matters." "I can agree with you there, Jake. Alright, we'll go more in depth of Jake 'Shatterproof' Hammer's career after the break." Eddie, Johnny and Andy watched as Alex listened to the show, no anger was shown across his face. "You okay?" Eddie asked as he turned his body towards the three men. "Yeah, why?" "They were talking about you, Alex." Andy told, "Yeah, and I can't change that can I?" Alex moved away from them. "You're going to change everything, son." Eddie walked up behind Alex as he dug into his bag, "How?" he turned around. "You saw what he did to me the first time, Eddie." "I can't let that happen again." Alex shook his head, passing him. "It's not going to happen again." "How?" "Because I'm going to train you and you will win this fight." Alex stopped in his tracks, his lips parted as he thought before turning around. "What do you say, Alex? Move pass this or, train harder than you have before and make history by defeating him?" "Come on let's go! Keep it up! Keep it up!" Eddie shouted, watching Alex whip the ropes in his palms. "One more mile. One more mile." Johnny exhaled looking down at his watch. "I wanna see more sweat!" Andy laughed as he jumped rope, watching as Alex picked up his pace. "Push! Push! Push!" Alex grunted at the wagon he was pushing with the two young men who sat comfortably encouraging on. "Wow! Just look at the left hook by Jake Hammer." "It's his twenty-eighth win!" "Unbelievable!" "Come on, son." Eddie rubbed Alex's head as he listened to the t.v in the gym, Alex sighed and continued to punch the bag as hard as he could. "Alex, come on! My wife could lift more!" Eddie roared, sweat beads were a waterfall on Alex's face as he struggled to lift the weight over his head. Two-forty he lifted, "Agh!" Alex grunted out as he droped the bar. "That's what I'm talkin' bout!" Johnny slapped a hand onto his, Eddie nodded. "Good job, kid." The birds chirped on the thin tree limb that was rooted in the parks ground. Warm summer sun shined down on the picnic that was layed out on the green grass, the two rested their hands on their stomachs as they enjoyed the peace and quiet. CeCe let out a breath and opened her eyes at the blue sky. "Alex?" Her voice was a whisper, not wanting to bother the man who seemed relax. "Hmm?" "Do you remember what the colors looked liked?" CeCe furrowed her brows at the question she asked, feeling a little dumb for letting it slip through her lips. "What do you mean?" CeCe switched her position to her side, so she could look at him. "Like, do you remember what the colors of the rainbow looked like?" Alex grunted as he rolled on his side, ribs still sore. "No, why don't you tell me?" Alex breathed out, his green eyes shined just right from the sunlight blaring on his skin. CeCe propped up her elbow, resting her head on the palm of her hand before speaking. "They put my hands in their pool. They told me that sensation I felt while swimming, the omnipresent coolness, that's blue. Blue feels like relaxation." Alex smiled, "Kinda like now." CeCe hummed in response. "What about red?" "They had me stand outside in the sun. They told me that the heat I was feeling is red. They explained that red is the color of a burn, from heat, embarrassment, or even anger." CeCe looked at Alex, noticing his eyes were on the plaid blanket underneath them, his hands fiddling with it. "I feel like that way during a fight." CeCe sat up and looked down at him, his blonde lock's gently flowing in the wind. "You ready for your big fight tomorrow?" "I can't answer that right now, CeCe." Alex focused on the feeling of grass between his fingers. "Well, no matter happens, you did your best. It takes a man to get back in the ring with another man he once almost lost his life to." Alex nodded, lifting his head up. "You're an amazing guy, Alex." "I'm who I am because of the people I surround myself with." Alex and CeCe smile. "What's your favorite color?" CeCe exhaled deeply, taking in the sent of the fresh air around them. "I held soft leaves and wet grass. They told me green felt like life. To this day it is still very much my favorite color." "I'm startin' to think green is my favorite now." Alex chuckles, "Oh, yeah?" "Yeah." he hummed in agreement, letting CeCe rest her head on his chest. "It sure is."

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen, I'm your host, Fred Coan." "I'm the co-host, Jerry Kline, we have yet another amazing fight tonight, don't we?" "Yes we do, Jerry. Jake 'Shatterproof' Hammer will be fighting-again Alex 'Daredevil' Flex. We all remember that one, don't we?" "I'm afraid we do, it was a obscure scene for sure, I don't think Alex got more than a hit on the guy." "I don't think he did either, hopefully that'll change tonight as Alex's manager, Eddie Russo has been training him hard for weeks on end." "We shall see, Jerry." The stadium that held over three thousands fans listened as the two men in suits spoke, spotlights dancing around, waiting for the boxers to make their entrance. "How's the knuckles?" Eddie asked as he wrapped the gaze around his palm, his bones cracked as he flexed them. "Still a little out of place, I'll say." Alex started down at his hands, listening to the press talk outside the door as it opened. "Hey, honey." "Mama." Alex looked up, hearing his mother's voice, "We want to wish you good luck, tonight." Alex snickered. "You beat that son of bitch, you hear?" Monica slapped Richard's shoulder, "Good luck, son." his father tapped on his back. Alex listened to his mother's unsteady breathing, her heart was beating faster than usual. "You don't have to be scared, ma." Alex shook his head, "I'm not scared, darling." "I can hear you heart." Monica sighed, her hand met her head. "I could never lie to you." Alex's lip curved into a smile, "I'll be alright." her arms wrapped his neck as he clutched onto her. "I love you, ma." "I know." The door handle creaked open, heavy steel toe boots hitting the floor. "I wasn't invited to the party?" Brady chuckled, "Hey, B." Alex lifted his chin. "Come on, hands up." Eddie told, slipping on the red gloves. "Ready?" The arena could be heard through the thick white wall, "I think they're more ready than I am." Alex chuckled. "Let's win this fight." Eddie told, Alex stood. "Wait." CeCe spoke up from the corner next to Johnny and Andy, she lifted her camera. "I need a picture to put in the paper." "Oh, yeah." Alex nodded, he gaze around the room before standing in front of the camera. CeCe squinted her eye, "Hang on." Alex lifted his glove up and turned around. "I want everybody." The room shared a look with each other and gathered around the man in the middle. "That means you too, C." Alex told, "What? But who's-" "Come on, babe. I can't be late to my own fight." he groaned in laughter. "Okay, okay." CeCe giggled turning on the timer and ran to a spot. Flash.

The hard metal blared throughout the crowd's ears, golden spotlight shadowed over the tall man. He lifted his black gloves in the air, a hard stare laid across his face. "Jake 'Shatterproof' Hammer, everyone. A man who holds the record of twenty-eight straight wins and no loses." Fred told, watching the man jog up the steps to enter the ring. "That's incredible for a guy his age, only twenty-one and already at the top of the list? Just wow." Jerry shook his head in disbielf as he looked down at the card. "Flex. Flex. Flex." The crowd cheered. "The fans are ready to see Alex, aren't they?" "I think see him coming out, Fred." "How about that? Alex is coming out with his whole crew, what a special moment for the family." Alex smiled at his mother who held him close, "I love you, Alex." "I know." he kissed her temple. "You fight with your heart." CeCe told, holding onto his right arm, Alex looked at her with every emotion, like she was the world in front of him and he wanted it-no, he needed it. "What?" She furrowed her brows as he continued to stare, "I..I." he jumped when Eddie slapped his shoulder. "Let's go." Monica and CeCe untangled their arms from him and walked to their seats. "Alex." Brady spoke up behind him, "Yeah?" the hot light took it's place on the brother's as they stood in front of each other. "I want to tell you somethin' that helps me. I'm passing it over to you, okay? Remain calm in every situation because peace equals power, you understand? Because at the end of the day, he's just a man. He will fail. You will make sure of that. As your brother, I will always be there. I'm right here. Now, put this motherfucker to the ground where he belongs."

Eddie, Johnny and Andy stood behind Alex in the ring, watching closely as Jake eyed the four men, humor was written all over his face. Alex felt a new presence enter the ring, the microphone rung in his ears before he spoke. "Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for attending tonight's fight, I'm your announcer, Ralph Fletcher. On my left, weighing at two hundred twenty pounds, he's an ultimate medium weight championship in the world, Jake 'Shatterproof' Hammer!" Alex snickered as the crowd roared for the opponents who jumped for the attention. "One my right, weighing at one hundred forty pounds, coming back for a rematch, Alex 'Daredevil' Flex!" "Go Alex!" "You got this, babe!" "Let's go, A!" "Kick his ass, Alex!" Alex focused on the encouraging words from his family, he smiled as Eddie raised his arm up. "Let's get ready to rumble!" "Alright, men, welcome back. You know the rules, no low blows or rabbit punches, we need a clean fight. You ready?" "Always." Jake instantly replied. "You ready?" "Yeah." Alex nodded slowly. "Touch gloves and get in your corner's." The referee ordered, Jake's stare never left the smaller man as they both walked backwards to their spots. "You remember all your training? Take is easy, no rush, alright? We have fifteen rounds, you got plenty of time to take him down. Use it wisely." Sweat blared off his body as the spotlight made his body hot, Alex nodded to his manager before hearing that familiar sound. Ding, Ding. "Fight." Alex could feel the rumbling of Jake's feet that bounced continuously just a few feet away from him, Alex squared up as he walked forward. "You ready for another beating?" Jake mocked, tapping his gloves together. "Obviously you didn't finished the job." Alex jabbed back, "Ha, you got a mouth on you boy." "Come shut it, champ." Jake grunted under his breath and darted to him, raising his glove. Alex ducked and landed a hit on his ribs, hearing the audience's reaction and Jake's low groan. Alex's feet slide across the smooth surface, Jake's feet slapped against it, anger was behind it as he walked in circles with him. "Stop running and start hitting, Hammer!" Jake's manager yelled, Jake got closer, costing Alex to become distracted and earn a hit on the eyelid. Alex hissed at the pain, he jabbed his right arm in the air, but Jake was too quick and punched the no longer existing bruise on his rib. "Agh." Alex yelled out, shutting his eyes tightly as he belched over. Ding, Ding. "Open." Johnny ordered, pouring water in his mouth as Andy got to work on the bleeding cut. "You know what you did wrong, son?" Alex nodded, grunting his teeth together. "Don't focus on anything else, but his voice you're excellent at that. Listen to the sound of his feet, follow where he leads." "Round two." Jake stood up in a quick motion, running over to Alex and hitting him in the nose, "You should've stayed home." he whispered. Alex roughly pushed his shoulders, blood dripping down his lips. "Fuck this, shit." Alex snarled, his feet slapped against the ring as he took off running, Jake quickly dodged and Alex stopped in his tracks and got a hold of his arm. Alex wrapped his legs around his waist as he tackled him to the ground. "You fuckin' bitch!" Jake's shoulder was pulsing when he landed on it, he pounded on the ring and elbowed Alex's face, causing him to fall back. "Get up, get up!" Eddie roared, Alex spit the blood out of mouth, feeling Jake hovering him. "It's over, Fle-Agh!" Jake yelled out, grabbing a hold of his knee, "No, it's just beginning." Alex jabbed a hard hit onto his cheekbone. A frustrated grunt escaped Jake's throat as the bell rung. "Great work." Eddie rubbed his head. "That's the first time I've seen him hurt." Andy told, watching Jake's crew tend to his body. "You got him where you need him to be." Eddie nodded. Ding, Ding. Alex tapped his red gloves, cracking his neck before walking in the middle. He relaxed his body, closing his eyes and listened to the sounds, but it never came. Alex furrowed his brows, arms dangling on his side as the confusion grew. Jake's eyes watched his own feet, sliding ever so soundlessly, he looked up seeing Alex's back. A gasp left his throat, black material touching the tender spot he just hit, knees made an echoed sound as they fell. No sort of emotion could be let out, the sudden pain was far too loud. "Oh, my god!" CeCe covered her mouth, watching as Jake was on top of him, beating him continuously. "Stop!" Monica stood with the rest, the referee held Jake back as Alex layed there. Blood covered his face, black and purple taking over his left eye. Eddie, Johnny and Andy sat him down in the corner, "Alex.. he's onto us. He knows now." Eddie sighed, looking up at him. The cold water and the color red mashed together as the sponge was being dabbed gently on his wounds. "I-It's alright, I can take him." Alex struggled to get out, his sweat and blood covered chest rising with each breath. Johnny gave his father a look, a look with many words not spoken out loud. "Round four." Alex pushed his best friend and manager out of his way, Jake looked at the crowd in the front row. Jake's stare burned a hole into CeCe's, he flashed a evil smirk before looking away. "That's your bitch out there?" Alex's lips scrunched up in anger, Jake chuckled. "Thank god, you're blind." Alex made a left hook against his jaw, Silvia and sweat leaving Jake's body. A pop filled Alex's ears as Jake adjusted the sore bone. "Hit me." Alex was taken back at his sudden words, "Hit me!" Jake screamed. Gloves bouncing back as he continued to do so, Jake stumbled backwards and into the corner. Alex sighed in exhaustion, his hits were no longer painful to the tall man. Jake widen his shoulders, black gloves hovered over his face, dark eyes casting over him. "You did this to yourself." Punch. "You're nothing." Jab. "You're just a burden." Grunt. "You don't even deserve to be here." Hit. "Go back where you belong." The stadium stood still, no noise could be heard, not even a whisper. Thud. "Alex!" "One." "Get up!" "Two." "Stop the fight!" "Three." "Come on, A!" "Four." "Stand up!" "Five." Alex blinked, the air in his lungs strained for a breath of air. The world, his mind, the pain in his body, twirled around in circles. Alex cluched onto nothing, nothing was in reach, but hope. "Six." "Please!" "Seven." "No!" "Eight." He stood. "Fucking hell." Ding, Ding. "Alex.. son.. you can't continue on." Eddie sighed, Alex's one orb looked down at his. "Come on, let's forget about this. Let's go home." Alex's mouth was parted as he never looked away from the older man. "I am home." "Round five." Tears were split on the black flooring underneath the family who watched, watched the unrecognized man they knew. His glove couldn't stand up for even a second before it was interrupted by the black one, blood coated the boxers feet, almost losing their balance. It was a miracle Alex was standing. "Why aren't they stopping the fight?" CeCe asked, Monica looked at her as her mascara was streaking. "I-I don't know, honey, Maybe.. he's too scared to stop it, scared of the loose of hope. Or, maybe... he doesn't want it to be stopped because he's used to numbness." CeCe let out a shaky sigh as her eyes were begging. "Why?" "Because he feels something when he's in the ring, it's not pain, it's not anger. It's to keep the depression at bay." Ding, Ding. CeCe stood up, the heels of her shoes clicking away as she walked to his corner. She could hear Alex's abnormal breathing, his left side of his face looked like a balloon, and was about to burst. "Alex!... Alex!... Alex!" The four men looked down at her direction, "What are you doing?" she let out. "I don't know, it's something I have to do." Alex shook his head, "No you don't." her voice was harsh, but begging. Johnny stepped down, and guided her away from the scene. "Please, Johnny you can't let him do this." He sighed, shaking his head. "CeCe, I would love for him to stop, I'd give anything for it to stop. But, sometimes people do things for themselves, maybe not in a selfish way. Alex is in his own world right now and not even Jake is going to stop him." The two turned their heads as the bell went off. CeCe hung her head, "Just be there for him, be understanding." he told before running back. "Round six." Alex stood to his feet, a waterfall of sweat and blood shedding away from his bruised body. Jake bounced on his toes, his brown hair drenched as it was slicked back against his skull. "Surprised you've lasted this long." Alex felt his hot breath on his face, "I guess you haven't given it your all, I suppose." Jake flared his nostrils and swung his arm. Alex ducked, and pushed his gloves onto his chest, and jabbed a hard hit into his ribs, cracking them. A gasp left Jake's throat, he touched the tender spot before at Alex. "I'm gonna kill you!" With full force, he drew a hit at his temple, Alex held up his gloves to the sides of his face as Jake attempted to cause him more pain. A loud whistle blew, piercing both of their ears. "Let me have him! Fuck off!" Jake yelled, being pulled away by the Referee. "I'm alright." Alex told, already answering Eddie's question. "Your face, its worse." Johnny gave his father a worried look, "Well how bad is it?" Alex sighed. "I wouldn't go on." "Fuck that. I'm fine, I don't care what happens." He stood in anger, "Well I do! I don't want you to fucking die in this fucking ring, Alex." Eddie shouted in his face. "That's for me to decide, not you. Not anyone." Alex looked in front of him, the feeling in his body was indescribable. It wasn't pain, it wasn't pulsing him into the ground, it was simply something he never felt before. Eddie's watery eyes looked the young boy he'd come to love and care for, he was another son he wanted for his boys. Eddie wished he just wasn't so damn hardheaded, he was afraid it was going to cost him his life, no control of what was coming next. "I have nothing to lose." Ding, Ding. "Alex? Alex!" Alex turned to face Eddie one last time, he smiles. "Tell CeCe, I love her." "Alex... Alex, what are you doing?" Soulless eyes stared deep into Alex, no pain was written anywhere, no emotion could be read. The world went silent, everything went slow motion, and time simply didn't exist. Alex stood his ground, gloves steady as he waited for his prey. And no weapon, for his protection. Alex was ready. He longed for this moment for a long time and now, it's here. It wasn't about being right or wrong. It wasn't about proving anybody, not his family or his small group of friends, nor the media. Blood dripped down his lips as he walked to stand in front of Alex, he wasn't in pain anymore, it had came and gone. Punch, right in the cheekbone, by Jake's giant hand. A hard hit into Alex's chest, any air in his lungs escaped right then and there. You could hear the slaps against the glove on his swollen face. Blood, sweat, tears, and spit was just substance to the men. Alex's chin went straight up, not caring if it was broken or not. His back touched the rope, Jake had hit him so much he didn't know he had been walking backwards. The light shined down on his barely opened right eye, blood was begining to fill the white parts. Jake watched as Alex lower his head and he looked right at him, he could've sworn that he saw him. Alex laughed, the color red coated his teeth. Jake's eyebrows furrowed. Alex tilted his head back, with all his might, forehead to forehead. Punch. Jab. Hit. Kick. Punch. Jab. Hit. Kick. Punch. Jab. Hit. Kick. Thud. It was about beating his mind. The crowd stood to their feet, mouth gaped open at the first ever beat down that wasn't caused by Jake. But Alex. "One." "Two." "Three." "Four." "Five." Alex swayed, his body trying to repair it's self. He watched as Jake laid on the hard, wet floor. His face finally read something. Pain. Blind or not. He knew. "Six." "Seven." "Eight." "Nine. Alex's knees hit the ring, belching over, the soft material of the gloves felt like a cloud. Tears fell down his purple face. "Ten." He did it.

The warm lighting above the kitchen table glistened onto the dark wood. Laughter filled the air, as food was being passed around. The dining room sat everyone together for dinner. "Alright, folks let's say grace." Richard started, nodding and grabbing his wife's hand. Fingers were beginning to intertwine with one another. "Dear, heavenly Father. We gather here to day for the celebration of our son, Alex. Thank you for providing this lovely food prepared by my amazing, beautiful family you blessed me with. We also want to thank you for, keeping my son safe during his career he has chosen. Please continue to heal him as he is still recovering. Thank you and Amen." "Amen." Silverware hit the plates as they began to eat, "I think that plastic surgery really helped him." CeCe said, looking over to her right. Alex smiles at her as he chewed. Distant shades of purple and yellow decorated his cheeks, knuckles cracking every time he flexed. "I think it did too." Monica agreed, "How does that make you feel that your boyfriend got plastic surgery before you did?" Johnny chuckles, sticking a fork in his mouth. They laughed. "Very funny." Alex shook his head, "She's too beautiful and I needed work done." CeCe gasps, "No you didn't. I think you're very handsome." "Thanks, babe." Alex licked his lips before giving her peck on the cheek. "I think I'm gonna yak." Andy jokingly says, "Boy, have some manners." Eddie warned, scuffing. Alex laughs, his smile was permanent. He was indeed happy. This was the moment he lived for, his parents, brother, friends and his world right beside him. Alex was living for his future, his past had dissapeard like a faded memory. He wasn't worried. He knew everything he needed and it was right here. In this room, the people he loved the most. "Honey, can you grab me that plate?" Monica reached for the empty plates scattered around the dinner table, "I'll help you." CeCe smiles. "Thank you, sweetheart." Monica touched her shoulder. "Fellas, let me show you around." Richard stood, motioning to Eddie and his boys. "Brady." Alex asked out loud, "Yeah?" he looked up from Joey. "Come here." Pictures hung perfectly in the brightly lit hallway, the two figures admired the old memories forever inbeded in their minds and hearts. A flat palm layed against the white door, pink knuckles on full display. Alex smiles and chuckles. "Remember when we carved out named into this door?" Brady looks down, seeing his name and his brother's messily carved into the door. "Mom and dad were so mad at us that day, I thought we were doomed and forever grounded." Brady breathed out. "They told us they were gonna replace it... and they never did." Alex shook his head, "I think they secretly love it." Brady laughs. Alex's hand dig into his jeans and they began to walk pass Brady's old room. The familiar hum from the light from the bathroom light filled Alex's ears, it felt more warm than ever before, not so dark. "Mind doing something for me?" Alex asks, opening the drawer and grabbing the razor. "Yeah, sure." Brady nodded, taking the wire in his hands and plugging it up. Alex lifted the shirt off his body, little specks of purple and yellow laid across his skin. Alex rested his hands onto the counter, and lowered his head. You see, from the start his light became darkness. His family was his light and it was swept away by this horrible disease. It had taken over his mind throughout his teenage years to early adulthood, dealing and struggling with the fact his couldn't see what he loved and cared for. When he found what he could do, everything turned. It was like he could see what he never could with the use of his hands. The feeling of hitting something, letting go of his thoughts for a moment. Control was a dangerous, but beautiful tool to have, the need to do it for yourself, and your world. Depression was his enemy, and he needed to control it by defeating it himself. Darkness was his depression. So, fighting was his release, not his frustrations, not stress or a distraction from what he could never have back. Beating the darkness that had taken over. And now, he could see the light, darkness was nonexistence because he defeated... Himself.

Blonde hair slowly fell onto the floor by their feet, Brady guided the razor against his skull gently. Alex felt his head getting lighter, he blinked and lifted his head back up. "Oops." Brady gasps, Alex flinched at his words. "What? What'd you do Brady?" "Uhh.." Brady trails off, "Brady..." Alex huffs out. "I'm just fuckin' with you man. I didn't mess it up." Brady bursts out in laughter, a hand landed onto Brady's demin jacket. "Ouch." "Don't ever do that again." Alex pointed at him before dipping his head back down. Brady got back to work with cutting his hair. Silence filled the air for fifteen seconds before laughter replaced it. "You should've seen your face!" "Fuck you, Brady." Alex shakes his head. "Love you too, A." "Love you, B."

The Flex Brother's

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carolina-writings · 6 years ago

Text

Good Vibrations

A/N: I’ve gotten a few requests for a smut piece on vibrating panties...enjoy. NSFW.

“How d’they feel?” Harry asks you from his spot on the leather couch. His body language was dominant, his eyes dark. He was already in stage outfit, drinking his pre-show glass of wine.

“A little tight,” you twist your lips. “Think they’re too small, they’re practically inside of me.”

“That’s the point, love,” he stood, striding over towards the mirror where you stood, adjusting the red panties. “S’part of it.”

He was referring to the bet you two had made two nights before, while sitting on the leather couch backstage, the World Cup playing in the background. Harry’s head was in your lap, your fingers combing through his silky hair, occasionally moving down to boop his nose.

“Wanna make a bet?” he said out of the blue. “On th’ next game? France versus Argentina?”

“Depends on your terms and conditions,” you hummed down at him. “And I’m placing my bet on Argentina.”

“Alrigh’ well then I’m France,” he shrugged, slightly indifferent about who wins, but excited by the idea of this bet. “What’s your bet?”

“If and when Argentina wins,” you pretend to ponder, although you already knew exactly what you wanted. “We go to the shelter tomorrow and adopt a rescue dog. Or cat is fine too.”

“Alrigh’,” he shrugged, his shoulders hitting your hipbones. “Mine’s a little kinkier.”

“It’s not going in my butt,” you had planned to continue, but he bursted out laughing.

“Not tha’,” he giggled. “You’ve got t’ sit side stage wearin’ vibratin’ panties during my next show. N’ I get the remote.”

Your stomach instantly clenched and your cheeks flushed as you reached your hand forward to shake on it.

And that’s how you ended up here, seated on top of a crew box in the dark arena, watching thousands of people practically jizz their pants over your boyfriend. The vibrator part of the panties rested against your clit, but Harry was 3 songs in and had yet to turn it on. You silently hoped he had forgotten the remote backstage.

As soon as the first few notes to Medicine ring out, you know you’re fucked. Your suspicions are confirmed when Harry sensually slides his hands down his side, subtly pressing the button. It starts off as a low buzz, filling your stomach with butterflies but not enough to make you visibly react.

The vibration gradually gets stronger, the direct pressure on your clit causing you to squirm. Harry dances around the stage as usual, giving you the occasional smirk. He could see you out of the corner of his eye.

The setting changes to a different mode of vibration, pulsating gently but quickly. You try your best to keep a poker face, not wanting to capture the attention of any fans with wandering eyes. Luckily, the arena is so loud that nobody can hear the involuntary moans and whimpers that you’re trying to hard to conceal.

As the song wraps up, you’re about to cum. Harry can tell from his position on the stage that you’re close. Giving you a devilish smirk, he gently taps his left hip and the vibrations stop. You sigh as you feel your orgasm fade away.

The vibrations don’t start up again until the encore. You’re still sensitive, so when he presses the button in the midst of covering Fleetwood Mac, you squeal in surprise at the contact.

Harry cockily grins down at you, turning the setting up to what you assume is the highest one. Your stomach instantly clenches, your failed orgasm from earlier creeping back at a rapid pace.

As he transitions into Kiwi, its clear that he’s trying to focus on the crowd. But he keeps looking over at you, watching you bite your lip and wiggle your hips and try everything to keep yourself from losing control in front of thousands of people.

When he hits the chorus, you’re teetering on the edge of desire once more, and he knows. He can practically hear your whimpers, his cock stirring underneath his black jeans.

You bite down on your knuckle as you finally cum, Harry turning his head at just the right moment to watch you desperately try and conceal your orgasm. You sit there, humiliated at the thought that any one of these innocent concert goers may have just watched you come undone.

After you catch your breath, you practically run backstage straight to the dressing room. Harry walks in seconds after you, his sparkly shirt already discarded. He locks the door and immediately presses his lips to yours. You stumble backwards, landing on the couch. He climbs on top of you, his feverish kisses continuing.

“The fuckin’ hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he murmurs against your mouth. “Cumming fo’ me in front of all those people. Almost fuckin’ busted righ’ there s’well.”

He rubs his hard-on against your thigh, his lips honing in on the sensitive spot on your throat. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out the remote, a devilish smirk on his face.

“M’gon turn it back on,” he whispers. “N’grind my cock against ya real nice, yeh?”

You nod as he strips down into his tight gray boxers. You nearly salivate when you notice a wet spot from his onstage exhibitionism. He grabs your waist and pulls you towards the edge of the couch, kneeling on the floor and lining your centers up.

He presses the button, starting off on medium. His eyes immediately clench shut, jaw going slack. He mercilessly bucks his hips towards your center.

“S’good but not enough,” he says through gritted teeth. “Need you on top.”

You two shuffle around and he settles on the couch, cock freed from its CK cloth prison. It’s resting against his belly, the tip red and swollen. You inhale sharply as a particularly strong vibration hits you before positioning yourself so you’re straddling his cock.

“Don’ fuckin’ move,” he grunts as you try your hardest not to squirm. It was a challenge, and was only made harder by the fact that he was beneath you, looking completely fucked out already. “Bloody hell ‘m close.”

Now you’re the one devilishly smirking as you reach for the remote, hitting the up button. You immediately let out a squeal, the blood rushing to your core as the vibrations buzz away at your sensitive cunt.

Harry releases onto his stomach with a groan, his strong hands immediately pulling you off of his over-stimulated cock. Your orgasm follows closely behind, your legs nearly thrashing, whimpers leaving your quivering lips until he turns the panties off.

“Gotta get me one of those vibrating cock rings,” he murmurs. “Cuz that was fuckin’ ace.”

“I can make that happen,” you smirk. “But I get to control the remote.”

#harry smut #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #my writing

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shay-del-rey · 6 years ago

Text

Behind Blue Eyes | Steve Rogers x Reader

Rating: T (minor offensive language used)

Words: 1505 (Sorry for the length!)

Summary: One of our favourite super soldiers has a hard time adjusting to this time period...until he meets someone very special. (Crappy summary, story is a bit better!)

A/N: So I’ve been trying to shake off the whole writer’s block thing and this story just flowed so I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, pure, tooth rotting kinda fluff.

THE world had changed so much from when Steve Rogers first knew it. It wasn’t just the landscape that had undergone a drastic makeover since the 40s, but the people too.

Him? Sometimes, he swore he was still frozen in ice. That the world kept changing around him while he remained the same. Timeless, unchanging, unmoving, unfeeling.

Being Captain America was distracting at best. It gave him a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging, as far as his skills were concerned anyway.

As a person, he was still trying to figure things out. Bucky was his anchor, a way for him to remain connected to the past he was torn away from so violently. All that he was, all that he loved, seemed lost, just like his motivation to stop and take in the moment.

That all changed when he was out for a run that morning. Leaving the Avengers compound and having a heart pumping run around the park was the perfect way to lose himself. Such an ordinary activity that made him feel at least some semblance of connection to this age.

A sudden squabble between two men caught his attention and he only looked away for a second before he heard the sound of a dog bark and he collided with someone. The fall was inevitable but Steve quickly brought his arms around the other person’s frame so that his body could cushion the fall.

He took in the person laying across his chest, their legs tangled and a walking stick lying in the distance. A golden retriever trotted over and started whining and nudging his owner.

“Are you okay, Ma’am?” Steve asked, noting she kept her eyes shut tightly as she felt around and petted the dog.

“I’m fine,” she said before making a move to move her body. Her eyes were still closed as she searched the ground. Steve grew confused before his eyes caught sight of a pair of glasses and the walking stick.

He gently retrieved the sunnies before placing them in her hand and grabbed the walking stick as he helped her up.

“Thank you for this, Mr –

“Steve Rogers.”

“Mr Steve Rogers. Thank you. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”

“It really wasn’t. I’m sorry, I bumped into you.”

Just then, a sharp bark rang out and the stranger in front of Steve laughed. “I haven’t forgotten you, Jasper.” She bent to pet him again and took a hold of his leash.

Standing, she frowned. “Wait, Steve Rogers. Why does that sound so familiar?”

Gasping suddenly, she spoke before Steve could. “Captain America?!”

Steve smiled. “Yes, Ma’am.”

She laughed, the sound so pure and full of uninhibited joy that Steve found himself melting. “You sound like one of my students. I’m Y/N,” she said before extending a hand forward.

“Pleased to meet you, Y/N.”

“And this is Jasper, the most special boy in my life,” she said, gesturing to the canine looking up at Steve when he knelt and petted him.

“I am honoured to meet you both.”

“So what brings you out here, Mr Rogers?”

“I usually run in the mornings. The only time of the day I have some peace and quiet before work.”

Y/N pursed her lips as she smiled, deep in thought. “I know that feeling. Usually I’m surrounded by the little ones and this is the only time when I can actually come out, think, enjoy the morning air.”

“Are you a teacher then?”

“Yes. Not the most exciting job in the world but I love what I do.”

“You’re inspiring the next generation. I think teaching is a wonderful career.”

The smile Y/N gave him made his heart skip a beat. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to let go of her so very soon. But what could he go to –

“Say, Mr Rogers. Would you like to get a coffee with me? There’s a wonderful cafe just five minutes from here and their muffins are absolutely wonderful.”

“I’d love to. And please, call me Steve.”

IT had been six months since that fateful day. Every day with Y/N was like a new adventure for Steve. And as she lay in Steve’s arms that morning, he couldn’t help but remember how she had made him feel so human since she met him.

They had been at an Italian restaurant after Steve returned from one of his missions when Y/N had confided him about her visual impairment.

“I was 16, had gradually started to lose my eyesight for a while. The doctors couldn’t explain it and when it happened, I guess no one could have done anything to stop it. It was hard at first, I’m not going to lie. Just realising that I’d never get to see the sunset, the autumn colours, the colour of my boyfriend’s eyes, it was heartbreaking. I got used to it though. I guess there came a time when I decided I couldn’t just sit around and mope. I needed to get out there and change the world, in my own way. Hence, the teaching job.”

Steve held her hand and laid a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “And what a brilliant job you have done, Y/N. You’re a real superhero for never giving up on your dreams.”

She smiled before he spoke again. “Blue.”

“Sorry?”

“My eyes. They’re blue.”

A cheeky smile on her lips. “Oh, so you’re my boyfriend?”

“As long as you want me, doll.”

She smiled shyly before entwining their fingers together. “I bet you have the most beautiful blue eyes, Stevie...and a very beautiful butt too,” she said before laughing as he blushed and shook his head.

He still blushed when he thought about how raucously Y/N had laughed when Steve was hesitant to kiss her for the first time.

“I just...I don’t want to hurt you.”

Y/N had laughed out loud. “Stevie, just because I can’t see, doesn’t mean I don’t want you to kiss the daylights out of me. Geddit?”

He groaned. “You are going to me the death of me, doll.”

“Oh, but what a fun way to go, Captain,” she said before straddling his lap. She framed his face between her hands and brought her lips to his gently, moving away after biting his lower lip.

“Don’t go all shy on me now, Wonder Boy. Show me what a super soldier is capable of,” she said, smirking.

As Steve traced her jawline with his finger, he couldn’t help but remember the exact moment she had won his heart.

“What’s wrong, Steve?” Y/N had asked when he walked into her apartment, physically and mentally exhausted from the mission.

“Nothing,” he had mumbled when she swatted his arm and settled beside him on the couch. In the background, Jasper barked and ran around, excitedly playing with the new toy Steve had bought for him.

“Don’t you nothing me, Steven Rogers. Come on, baby, I can feel you hurting from here.”

He sighed and laid his back against her chest, one of her hands instantly laying on his chest while the other ran through his hair, massaging his scalp gently.

“I feel lost.”

Humming, she urged for him to continue, dropping butterfly kisses on his temple as Steve spoke.

“Everything is so different. No matter how much I try, there’s just so much to do, so much to know. Work side, I find that everything is okay. It is my skill set, so there’s no problem there. I find it so hard relating to people, finding someone who understands. I mean, I don’t mean you, that’s not what I , I messed this up again, didn’t I?”

“Ssshh, Stevie. You didn’t mess anything. It’s okay. No can, well, aside from Bucky, but I don’t think anyone can understand what you went through, what you are going through. You are hurting, my love. It will take time. You need to give it time. I know that’s asking for a lot. Just be patient. Focus on the friends you have now. Talk to them, talk to me, we’re all here for you.”

He turned in her arms and kissed her.

“I’m glad I have you.”

She smiled radiantly. “You always have me.”

Sunlight streaming in your room, Y/N stirred awake and stretched, a content smile on her face as she turned to face Steve.

“How long have you been awake?”

Steve’s eyes widened. “How’d you know I was awake?”

“I have spider senses.”

“Should I call you Spider Woman now?”

“Nah, just Y/N is fine. What time is it?”

“9.”

“Great, so breakfast? I’ll get started on pancakes.”

“I’ll help.”

She sat up, a concerned look on her face. “Are you okay, my love?”

Steve smiled, his heart bursting with love for this amazing woman. Dropping a kiss on her lips, he nuzzled her. “I’ve been more okay since you came into my life.”

Y/N snorted. “So fucking corny.”

“Language!”

“Kiss my ass, Captain,” she said, laughing before she walked to the kitchen.

God, he loved that woman.

#avengers imagine #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #Bucky Barnes #stucky #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

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gothixmoth · 6 years ago

Text

The Devil went to Ireland

*Cough*yes I did do a shameless self-insert..

It was a sunny in dublin ireland. We open in on a small village..the Devil him was heading through the woodland area looking for a soul to steal, and just when he was about to move on to a new area he saw a thin framed guy in a witchy outfit playing a fiddle, and he was playing damn well. Devil was impressed, which didn’t happen often, he walked over to the guy who looked to be in his later teens possible early twenties, “well hello there..you play that fiddle well, my dear..name’s Devil..and i’m willing to bet a fiddle of black and gold against your soul because i think i’m far better than you” the guy looked up at Devil with a confident smile, “My name’s Nathan, and i know it’s a sin..but i‘ll take your bet.” Nathan hopped up, “because I’m the best there’s ever been.” Devil grinned and snapped his fingers his fiddle case appearing, setting it down gently he said confidently, “i’ll start this show, dearest Nathan.” he took out his fiddle from the case..fire flew from his fingertips as he readied up his bow. He struck against the strings and it made a wicked hiss and demons rose up from the ground to join in on fun and they started to play an evil tune. Soft ghouls sang in the background, “beware dear Nathan betting your soul because hell’s broke loose and the Devil deals it hard and if you win you get this fine fiddle of black and gold, but if you lose the Devil gets your soouulll!” when the Devil finished Nathan said, “well you play pretty good there Devil, sir, but you better sit back in that chair there and show you how it’s truly done.” the Devil sat back on a stump and Nathan played his fiddle damn well once more, “fire on the mountains run boys run!” he gave the Devil a confident grin as he kept playing pulling out all the tricks in the book that he knew, “the Devil’s in the house of the risin’ sun!” Nathan spun that witch hat managing to stay on, “chickens in the bread pin pickin’ out dough” he hopped up on an empty stump nearby and winked at the Devil with a cheeky lil smile, “granny does your dog bite? No child no!” the lil diddy Nathan added was catchy, and when he was done playing the Devil bowed his head knowing his defeat. He laid the fiddle of black and gold down by Nathan’s feet. Turning to leave Nathan grabbed his arm, “come back anytime Devil if you wanna try again, because i’ve told you once before you lovely bastard, i’m the best there’s ever been..” the Devil couldn’t help but smile at Nathan..and Nathan not only left with that nice fiddle of black and gold, but he also left with the Devil’s heart.

Nathan saw the Devil a few years later in a casino..and the flashbacks came flooding in..going back home to fetch his gold and black fiddle from his apartment. Running all the way back to that casino Nathan slid into the casino and hopped up on an empty table and readied his bow..people in the casino starred, as he started to play the Devil’s ears perked up at this familiar lovely sound. Nathan grinned, “fire on the mountains, run boys run!” he stomped his feet to the beat of his fiddle, “the Devil’s in the house of the risin’ sun!” the Devil turned his head to see who dared interrupted his service in the casino..seeing Nathan with his fiddle made his heart warm a bit. Nathan gave the Devil a cheeky grin, “chicken in the bread pin pickin’ out dough!” the Devil actually smiled..Nathan knew he was doing good, “granny does your dog bite? No child no!” Nathan giggled softly to himself and played for a bit longer and soon stopped. The Devil gave a small clap while the whole casino exploded into claps and cheers. Nathan hopped off the table and walked up to the Devil, “well hello you lovely bastard, remember me?” the Devil nodded, “indeed i do Nathan..the only one to beat me in one of my bets.” Nathan felt good about himself for beating the Devil at his bets. The Devil gave a smile, “you still play good, dearest Nathan. Now.. i wanna ask, you mind if we grab a drink sometime..maybe a lil dinner..alone that is..not here in this crowded casino..” Nathan gave a warm smile, “i’d love to Devil, sir.” the Devil shook his head, “just Devil, Nathan..” Nathan nodded.

Soon these two became lovers..caring for each other..and an occasional fiddle show happened at the casino for old times sake.

°•*I hope you liked this!! Lemme know if you'd like to see more from me!*•°

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doingthewritething · 7 years ago

Text

Just One Video pt 2

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Gosh darn profanity and I think that’s about it

A/N: I don’t know how the train system works in Queens so let’s pretend it made sense okay guys? Also I am in love with this part like wow. Sorry for the length, might wanna grab some snacks and get comfortable folks

word count: 6k (yikes)

Part 1

I must have seen the video at least 30 times before I decided that it was real. I slowed down the video by carefully dragging my thumb across the screen, trying to find a flaw in the editing -but this seemed authentic; he couldn’t possibly fake all of it. This was all just hard to believe.

Was he out fighting crime right now? Is that why I heard sirens in the background?

All this time, it was Peter Parker who helped protect Queens. The same Peter Parker who fought the Avengers and defeated the Vulture guy a couple of months ago.

He’s just a kid, how is he capable of doing this? How can he balance school life and fight crime? What about that Stark intern-

I audibly gasped when I realized that the Stark internship he talked about was probably a cover for being freaking Spider-Man!

I heard scratching at my door and knew immediately that Buddy wanted to come into my room. I got off my bed and opened my door. Right when I opened it, Buddy ran to my bed and made himself comfortable, panting loudly. I gently closed the door and joined him on the bed. Looking back at the phone, I mindlessly pet Buddy.

“Okay,” I said finally. “If I’m supposed to believe all this, I should do some investigating. Like Sherlock does,” I said to Buddy. He merely blinked at me, trying to lick my hand. “I can solve this case, right Bud?” I cooed, ruffling up his ears.

“Sweetheart! Dinner’s ready!” my mom called from the dining room.

Buddy perked up at the sound of my mom’s voice and ran to my door.

“Traitor,” I muttered, following Buddy to free him from my room. Once I opened my door, Buddy ran to the living room as if his life depended on it. Rolling my eyes, I trudged behind. I patted my jeans to make sure the phone was still there; I kept Peter’s phone in my pocket so that Michael couldn’t get to it. I sat down at the dinner table, mentally planning out my next move.

“Your dad told me you got your tickets, isn’t that exciting?” my mom chirped, serving herself some food.

I served my own plate and said, “Mmhm.”

“Calm down honey, you don’t want to get too happy now,” she said, quirking an eyebrow at me.

I smiled slightly and said, ”I am excited, really, but the concert isn’t for another couple of months, you know? I’m just tired anyway.”

“You wouldn’t be so tired if you slept early, like I always tell you to,” my mom scolded, taking a bite.

“It’s cause you’re always on that phone,” Michael said, in a teasing voice.

I laughed, “Shut up Mike.”

“Got a head ache?” he asked me.

“It’s cause you’re always on that phone,” I finished, chuckling.

He lightly laughed back and said, “You don’t even have your phone though.”

I narrowed my eyes at him as he ate, realizing that I now had to explain to my parents why I didn’t have my phone.

“You lost your phone?” my mom exclaimed.

“Again?” my dad added from the living room.

“No, I didn’t lose it. I know exactly where it is,” I said, sipping my water.

“Not here,” Mikey snickered.

I kicked him under the table and mouthed, “Shut it.”

“Where is it?” my mom asked.

I waved my hand absentmindedly and said, “I accidentally took my friend’s phone and vice versa.”

“What friend?” my dad asked, lowering the volume on the TV.

I knew I couldn’t say it was Peter’s, because God forbid I talk to boys, so I said, “Michelle’s.”

My dad nodded, satisfied with that answer, resuming his attention to the basketball game.

“Oh, so you’ll just switch back at school then?” my mom added.

��Yup,” I said, popping the “p.” “But maybe we’ll meet up over the weekend or something if she wants it back sooner, I don’t know yet.”

I continued eating until I felt the phone vibrate. I got startled and slightly choked on my water. “Speaking of Michelle, that must be her. I gotta take this, dinner was great Mom!” I rambled, grabbing my dishes as I left the table to throw them in the sink -careful not to break any. I vaguely heard my mom telling me to slow down as I sprinted to my room, hastily answering the call.

“Hello?” I breathed, closing my door.

“Y/N?” Peter asked.

I inhaled sharply and let out a breath, trying to even it out. “Yeah,” I said, going to sit down on my bed.

“Is this a bad time?” he asked, uncertain.

“No, it’s a great time I was just, um, out on a run. With my dog. Buddy. Just came back, so, that’s why I sound out of breath,” I chuckled nervously.

Why did I tell him I went out for a run? I’m not athletic. God, this is so bad.

“Oh,” he said, “that’s nice. It’s a good day for a run, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I run all the time,” I lied. “You know, from my problems and stuff. I just decided to switch it up today,” I added dumbly.

I got a laugh from him and I smiled as he said, “That’s a good one.”

“Thanks,” I replied, “sooo...what’s up?” I got up from my bed and walked around my room.

“Oh, um, I was just calling back to apologize for earlier. I got caught up with the Stark internship,” he explained.

Right. The “Stark internship.” Time to investigate.

“How is that, by the way?” I asked, “the internship, I mean.”

“Th- the internship? Oh, it’s, uh, great! Keeps me real busy,” he stumbled.

“I could only imagine, I mean, it’s run by Tony Stark -Iron Man himself, right?” I prodded.

“Ye-yeah, Mr. Stark is great. I don’t see him directly, too often, but, he’s definitely great from the few times that I met him,” he said, sounding nervous.

“What does he have you do?” I asked innocently.

“He has us do lot’s of paper work, you know, the boring stuff,” he said. “It’s not that interesting if I’m being honest, you wouldn’t wanna hear about it.”

“Try me,” I said smirking.

“Um, well, some of the paper work is classified so I can’t exactly talk about it,” he explained.

Damn it, he got me there.

“Ah, well, that’s okay,” I said, quickly thinking of something else to ask. “Have you met any of the other Avengers while you were there? Like, that new one, the Spider-Man guy?” I asked, anxiously waiting to hear his answer.

“Spider-Man? Um, yeah, we’ve met. A few times,” he said, sounding unsure of himself.

“I bet he’s so cool in real life, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s pretty awesome. I mean he single-handily took down a villain who used high-tech alien weapons, so, I’d say he’s cool,” Peter said, sounding cocky.

“I heard he has a weird voice though, is that true?” I lied.

“Wh- what? No! He doesn’t have a weird voice, where’d you hear that?” he exclaimed, his voice rising.

I bit my lip to hide my smile, “Oh, you know, here and there.” I picked at my nails and then said, “People talk.”

“You don’t seriously believe he has a weird voice, do you?” he asked.

“Mm, I don’t know. Maybe. I also heard he was rude to some people who wanted a picture of him,” I said, making up things as I went.

“What!” he exclaimed, his voice rising a pitch higher. He cleared his throat then said, “That never happened.”

“Yeah,” I exclaimed, “shot a web at the camera, and everything!”

Peter scoffed, “I don’t think Spider-Man would do that.”

“Who knows,” I added, “it’s not like we actually know him right? He could be a total asshole in real life for all I know.”

“He could be,” Peter reluctantly said. “But I, I think he’s an okay guy. Maybe you’ll get to meet him and see for yourself?”

“That’d be sick, but, I highly doubt it,” I sighed, playing along.

“Who knows, right?” Peter mused. “I think you could find him around Queens or something doing superhero stuff.”

Or at the library studying for a Spanish quiz, I mentally added.

I chuckled slightly, “People don’t just run into superheroes, Peter.”

“Keep an open mind, Y/N,” Peter chuckled. “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?”

Peter caught me off guard with his sudden change in topic, “Um, nothing much? I was going to return a book to the library and then just chill or something.”

“The one on 21st?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, not really sure why he was suddenly interested in this.

Maybe he’s purposely changing the subject away from Spider-Man.

“Cool, how about, we meet there? Tomorrow? At noon? We can exchange phones then,” he offered.

“Oh, right, yeah,” I said, forgetting we had to actually plan a meet up. “Works for me,” I confirmed.

“And, uh, I didn’t look through your stuff, if you’re wondering,” he chuckled.

“Me either, if you were wondering, as well,” I said, swallowing my guilt.

I am a terrible human.

“But you did get a text from MJ,” Peter said, “not that I purposely read it -I mean -I couldn’t help it, it just popped up, you know?”

“That’s okay Peter, I don’t mind.” I said, feeling even worse.

I can’t keep lying to him

“Um, something did happen though,” I said, wincing.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“With your phone,” I hesitantly said.

“Something happened to my phone?” Peter asked.

Should I just come clean? I still have time to back out.

“My brother...” I started, “dropped it. I asked him to hand it to me, but I didn’t have...good... reflexes. And I’m really sorry.”

Not a total lie? I do have bad reflexes...

“Oh,” Peter sighed, “that’s okay, I don’t mind a scratch or two.”

Oh my god -I am a terrible person. How can I just lie to Peter like this?

“Yeah, I just felt really terrible about it, I thought you should know,” I said, closing my eyes at how dumb I was.

“Y/N, it’s totally fine! Don’t worry about it, really, I’m okay with it,” he said reassuringly.

I hate you Peter Parker, you good human being you. Oh, who am I kidding, I hate myself.

I sighed, “Actually, it’s not fine. I need to tell you something else.”

“What is it?” he asked.

Right as I was about to confess my sin, the phone started to vibrate. I took it away from my ear and saw that I, or Peter, was getting a call from an unknown number.

“Um, hold on, you’re getting a call from an unknown number, I’ll just answer it real quick and see who it is,” I said, thinking nothing of it. Vaguely hearing Peter protest, it was too late as I hit the green button. Not getting a chance to even say “hello,” there was a man’s voice already talking.

“Yo, spiderling, I made some minor upgrades to the prototype suit I’ve been working on. You don’t need to thank me right away, but I do believe some praise is due,” he said. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Oh my god, it’s Tony Stark.

“Kid?” he asked after hearing my lack of reply.

“Um, Peter's not here right now,” I said, weakly.

The line went quiet for a few seconds until I heard, “I’m sorry, and, who’s this?”

“Peter’s,” I paused, thinking, “friend.”

Can I even call myself that?

“Well. You can disregard this whole phone call. But. Where exactly is Peter?” Tony asked.

“Um, home? We switched phones by mistake,” I explained.

“Great, and seriously, ignore this phone call. It never happened,” he said, before cutting off the call.

I kept the phone pressed against my ear, stunned at what just happened.

Peter really is Spider-Man. This just confirmed everything.

“Hello? Y/N? Are you there? Did you answer the call?” Peter asked, sounding worried.

I cleared my throat before responding, “Um, yeah, I’m here.”

Peter stayed quiet and then tried to casually ask, “So, um, who was it?”

“It was...” I hesitantly said, “Tony Stark.”

“Oh, Mr. Stark called me?” he nervously laughed, “that’s weird. Why would Mr. Stark call me at this hour? What did he, uh, what did he say?”

“Actually Peter, I have to go right now, but, I’ll tell you about it tomorrow, okay?” I sighed. I just really needed to sleep; too much had happened today for me to process.

“Really? Do you have to go right now? We can stay up and talk some more? I mean, it’s Friday, I’m not too busy,” Peter said, trying to stay on the line.

“I’m really sorry Peter,” I whispered, feeling overwhelmed with guilt. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow, I promise.”

“Um, yeah, okay. No big deal,” he said, trying to sound cool about it. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Yeah,” I said, “tomorrow.”

I heard Peter say goodbye and then I hung up.

I couldn’t stand to hear his voice anymore. Under different circumstances, I would love nothing more than to hear Peter talk all day, but right now, I was lying to this sweet, dorky guy who didn’t deserve this. I clutched the phone to my chest and closed my eyes.

“What have I done,” I whispered.

I woke up the next morning, dreading what was to come. I had to face Peter and I was not mentally prepared to do that.

Looking in the mirror as I applied my mascara, I hated my reflection. I mean I looked good, but, I hated my inner self right now. I hate that I invaded Peter’s privacy and found out something that I shouldn’t have. Now I have to go and explain what an awful person I am to my crush -who will literally hate me when he finds out what I did.

Once I was ready to leave, I grabbed my book-bag and told my dad I was heading out.

“Call me when you get there, okay?” he reminded me.

“Yeah, I will!” I called out as I closed the front door. I made my way down the stairs of our porch and walked to the train station. I texted Peter a quick message saying I was on the way there, not looking forward to this at all.

On the train, I mindlessly looked around, waiting to get to my stop. It wasn’t until I heard a distant scream that I snapped out of my thoughts.

What the hell was that?

The rest of the passengers looked confused too, and we all looked to the right where the scream had come from. I heard two loud bangs on the car over, followed by a chorus of screams. Everyone dropped to the floor and I saw two armed men point guns at the passengers. They were yelling something, but it was muffled due to the distance. Everyone in this passenger car dropped to the floor as well, and with shaky hands, I did too.

Oh my god, please tell me this isn’t really happening. What do I do?

My hands immediately went to my phone, ready to call 911, or even say goodbye to my family when I realized that there was an alternative option.

Peter

I hastily pulled out Peter’s phone, trying to unlock it with my trembling fingers. I managed to dial my number, and held the phone up to my ear. I anxiously waited and kept looking up to make sure the gun men didn’t see me or walk in here yet. This was the car at the end of the train, so hopefully they won’t get here so soon.

“Hey Y/N!” Peter happily chirped, “I saw your text, don’t worry, I’m on my way-”

I cut off Peter, whispering, “Peter, help me, please.”

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” he asked, sounding worried.

“I- I’m on the train that’s heading to 21st street. It’s, it’s Train B. We’re -there’s, there’s some guys -” I was cut off by a huge screech. Someone hit the emergency stop on the train and we all got tossed to the left. The phone skidded out of my hands and I whispered, “Shit, shit, shit,” I crawled towards it, realizing I had to move fast.

“What was that? What’s going on?” Peter said, sounding out of breath. I think he was running. “Y/N? Are you there, are you alright? Talk to me, Y/N, please.”

“They stopped the train,” I whispered, looking around. “And they have guns.”

“I’m on my way, don’t hang up okay, just, keep talking to me. Tell me everything you see, everything you can, I’ll get some help, I promise,” he said, in an assertive voice.

“I’m so sorry Peter,” I rambled nervously, “I am so so sorry. I, I saw the video.”

If I’m going to die, I want to tell Peter the truth.

“Why do you keep saying sorry? What video?” Peter breathed as I heard rustling in the background.

“The video on your phone about going to Berlin. I know Peter, I just, I know,” I sighed. I heard another bang and flinched. With a trembling voice, I whispered softly, “I’m sorry.” I closed my eyes and tried to maintain calm.

I’m going to die here

“None of that matters anymore -I don’t care about that right now, okay Y/N? It doesn’t matter, I forgive you. Just, keep talking. Stay on the line. Tell me what you see, it’ll be okay, I’m on my way to you,” he replied.

I took a deep breath, composing myself. “Okay,” I sighed, leaning up to see the train car next door. “They’re lining people up against one side of the train. There’s two of them in there, there could be more, I don’t, I don’t know,” I numbly said.

“You’re doing great, just keep talking. I’m almost there,” he said.

I saw one of the men look towards our car and head to the door that separated us. “Fuck, fuck, no no no,” I said, starting to panic even more.

“What? What is it?” Peter exclaimed.

“He’s coming, I don’t know if i can keep talking Peter,” I whispered, “I’m not going to hang up but please hurry.”

I couldn’t hear Peter’s reply as I shoved the phone in my jean jacket’s pocket. The man barged in and yelled, “Everyone move to this side and stay down!”

He motioned us to move against the opposite side, and people did so, whimpering in fear. I took deep breaths and did as we were told. I looked around at the other passengers and saw that there was children with their mothers, hiding their cries. There were also kids my age, and even some elderly people.

I don’t want any of them to die

For the most part, it seemed like we all mutually agreed to do what the man said -there were no protests from any of the passengers. There was, however, an older woman who was crying and mumbling prayers in Spanish on her knees.

“You!” the man harshly yelled, aiming the gun at the woman. “Shut the fuck up and get down.”

She merely closed her eyes tighter, and kept praying, tears slipping down her face.

Lady please just do what he says, I mentally pleaded.

She remained unmoved, and I whispered to myself, “C’mon lady.”

The fact that she didn’t submit irritated the man, so he yelled at her, “Did you fucking hear me?” He stalked closer to her.

I sighed to myself and quietly muttered, “Don’t do it Y/N, don’t do it. Don’t do anything stupid, just mind your own business.”

The gun man, seemingly impatient, only got angrier at her lack of compliance. He aimed the gun at her head, ready to pull the trigger, and yelled, “You have three seconds before I-”

“No, wait!” I cried out, before I could stop myself.

Too late

I sat up on my knees and raised my hands in surrender when he aimed the gun at me instead. Swallowing my fear, I pleaded, starting to stand, “Don’t shoot her, please, she’s just -she’s just praying.”

I stared at the barrel of the gun, physically frozen in fear. I couldn’t move, but I had a million thoughts running through my mind.

“I don’t give a shit what she’s doing kid. Tell her to stop, or I’ll put a bullet through both of your heads,” he angrily muttered, not once taking his aim off of me.

I swallowed thickly and with a trembling voice, I quietly replied, “I’m, I’m not that good at Spanish, sir.”

“What did you say?” he spat at me, stepping closer.

I held back a whimper and repeated myself, “I-I can’t tell her to stop, I, I don’t know much Spanish.”

Glaring at me, he pressed the barrel of the gun against my forehead, “Listen here you little bi-”

I closed my eyes tightly, and held my breath.

This is it. This is how I die. I just had to open my stupid mouth-

My thoughts were cut off when I heard a huge crash, and glass breaking from behind me. I visibly flinched, and reacted by dropping to the floor, covering my head in the process. I stayed crouched down, quickly moving out of the way and could hear gun shots. They weren’t aimed at me, however, they were being aimed at something behind me.

“Hey buddy! You made me miss my train!” I heard a voice shout.

Sneaking a glance, I saw that the man was now fighting Spider-Man, trying to shoot him. At each gun shot, I flinched, but was relieved when Spider-Man managed to kick it out of his hands. Spider-Man somehow dodged every hit, saying witty comments that I couldn’t focus on, and knocked the gun man out cold. He didn’t have much time to relax because two more guys ran in here to fight him as well. Now ignoring the passengers, the men were focused solely on Spider-Man. The people on the train screamed, and scrambled to get to the other car seeing that the gun men were all in this one instead. I tried to follow them, but with everyone pushing to get to the front, I was left at the very back -along with the old woman. She didn’t have the strength to shove people out of the way, so I led her in front of me, gently encouraging her. I turned back to see Spider-Man shoot a web at one of the guys, and roughly pulled it towards him. The guy’s body made contact with the steel pole in the middle of the train, and with a final grunt, he was down.

Ouch

I turned my attention back to the old woman, and saw that we both made it through the doors. Seeing as I was the last person in, I hastily went to close the doors. People kept moving up the train, determined to put as much distance between themselves and the fight. I followed the crowd, looking back whenever I could to make sure that Spider-Man was alright. I saw him webbing up the gun men, and stopped walking before I made it to the other car. I turned to see the passengers, and they kept going forward, but I slowly broke from the crowd and headed back to where Spider-Man was. With my ears ringing, and my heart rate racing, I tried to stay focused on the red and blue figure who was tying up the gun men to the pole. I opened the doors, and he turned to look at the source of the noise.

“Peter?” I whispered.

He stopped what he was doing and breathed, “Y/N.” He ran up to me and hugged me tightly.

My eyes watered, and I closed them, letting out a shaky laugh, “Oh my god. Peter.” I wrapped my arms around him and tried to calm down.

“Are you okay? You’re shaking,” he said, pulling back. “That was a dumb question, of course you’re not okay, but you’re fine, right? They didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m, I’m okay. I think. Physically okay, at least,” I rambled nervously. “Can you just take me home, please?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said guiding me out of the train. We left through the end of the train where Peter crashed in, and he helped me step over the glass, holding my hand to help keep me up. “Can you walk? I don’t think you should walk, here, hold on,” he said, picking me up bridal style instead.

I gasped in surprise, not used to the feeling of being carried in such an intimate way. Again, in any other circumstance, I would enjoy this -but I was still in shock. I heard police sirens in the distance and realized that it was all going to be okay. I was safe. Those children were safe. That old lady was safe. Peter was safe.

Peter continued to carry me until we made it out of the station, and I hid my face in his chest; I focused on his heart beat and tried to calm my own breathing to match his. The whole way, Peter whispered reassuringly to me, and it helped me feel better. He told me to hang on tight, so I wrapped my arms around his neck and held on tighter. Gasping slightly, I could feel that we were no longer on the ground. I could feel the wind whip around me; it almost felt like I was on a roller coaster with a lot of sudden drops. I closed my eyes, waiting for us to land on solid ground.

When we did, Peter said softly, “You can open your eyes now.”

I slowly did so and looked around to see where we were. I was definitely not at my house, but it was a nice view. “Where are we?” I asked. It looked like were on some rooftop that overlooked Queens.

“I know you wanted me to take you home, but, I thought we should talk a little before I take you back,” he said, adjusting his grip.

“You can put me down now,” I whispered, looking at the eyes of his mask.

He cleared his throat, “Are you sure? You okay to stand?”

“I think so,” I replied.

He let me down gently, and I swayed a bit to the side, my legs almost giving way.

“Whoah, okay there Bambi, let’s just have you take a seat over here okay?” he slightly chuckled, guiding me to a spot on the floor.

“That was my first time flying first class, so I’m a bit shaky,” I tried joking.

He let out a breathy laugh, but then got quiet. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m not holding anything up,” I said, taking his question literally so that I could avoid giving a serious answer. I looked up to him and saw that he wasn’t amused, so I sighed. “I thought being pointed at with a gun was scary enough, but then,” I paused, “then he just pressed it against me and I, I couldn’t move -I couldn’t breathe. He was going to shoot me. I know he was. I was about to die if you didn-”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Peter whispered, “you weren’t going to die, I wasn’t going to let that happen.”

“But, I was!” I exclaimed, my voice rising, “I was going to die, Peter! If you didn’t answer the phone I...” I looked away, no longer able to stare at his emotionless mask. As if he noticed this, he slipped it off.

“Y/N,” he said gently.

I kept looking ahead, clenching my jaw to keep my lips from trembling.

“Y/N, look at me,” he said. When I turned to look at him his eyes were hard but determined. He continued, “I wasn’t going to let you die; I wasn’t going to let him hurt you. I’ll never let that happen if I can help it. I know it was scary, but you’re safe now; you’re alive. What matters is that I answered and that I made it on time.”

I nodded my head, and let out a shaky laugh that turned into a cry, finally losing my demeanor. Peter immediately reacted by side-hugging me, rubbing his hand up and down my arm. I sniffled and let a few tears fall, and Peter just held me, whispering sweet-nothings. He tucked my head under his chin and ran his fingers down my hair in a comforting manner.

After a few minutes, when I composed myself, I pulled away. “Thank you, Peter. I’ll never be able to repay you.”

“Yes you will,” he said, looking at me. I looked up at him and waited for him to continue. “Just stay alive, and out of harms way, okay?” he chuckled.

I smiled softly and said, “Okay.”

“And if not, I’ll come and save you anyway,” he said nonchalantly.

I slightly chuckled, but got quiet when I started to think.

Breaking the silence, Peter said, “You know, I heard you stand up for that lady on the train.”

“You heard that?” I asked.

“I didn’t hang up right away,” he shrugged. “By the way, I still have your phone. It’s in my backpack on the side of a dumpster though.”

I furrowed my brows in confusion. Noticing my expression he quickly added “Don’t worry, it’s not trash day today. Not making that mistake again,” mumbling the last part to himself.

I patted my pocket, and felt the outline of Peter’s phone. I pulled it out and handed it to him. “I’m sorry I saw your video, Peter. I didn’t mean to invade. I thought just one video wouldn’t hurt anyone.” I looked away ashamed.

Peter looked at his phone, and smiled, “I’m glad you saw it. If you didn’t find out, then I wouldn’t have gotten to those people on time -including you. Just, promise me you won’t tell anyone. No one else can find out and I don’t think you’re the type of person to go around-”

I cut him off, “I swear.” I smiled at him, glad he didn’t hate me. He gave me a soft smile, but then looked embarrassed at what he was going to say next.

“And if we’re going to be honest, I, uh, I looked at some of your photos,” he sheepishly admitted.

“What!” I squeaked, horrified.

Peter’s eyes widened at my outburst, “Y- you did it too!”

“No, no I didn��t! I just saw one video, I didn’t see anything else!” I defended myself.

“It was, it was just a selfie or two that I saw anyway. They were cute,” he mumbled, blushing. “And some pictures of your dog. Those were cute too.”

My ears got hot, and I could only imagine how red my face was. “Um, yeah, okay. Whatever,” I tried laughing it off. I tucked my hair behind my ear and looked away, hiding my smile.

He thinks I’m cute?

“You don’t have a weird voice by the way; I was just messing with you last night. I like your voice; it’s actually really nice,” I admitted, still not meeting his eyes.

Peter stuttered a bit and said, “Th-thanks.” Then he cleared his throat. “You have a really cute,” he paused, “smi...dog”

I looked at him and laughed, “What?”

“I,” he said, fumbling a bit, “Buddy. He’s really cute.”

“Thanks?” I replied, uncertain, giggling anyway. “Your film was really cute. I’d give it a solid three stars,” I teased, bumping his shoulder.

“Three stars?” he exclaimed, laughing back.

“The whole, ‘stealing Captain America’s shield’ was just unbelievable to me,” I joked.

Peter scoffed then chuckled, “Well, it totally happened. And it was bad-ass.”

I grinned and looked at Peter. He looked down at me and we sort of stared into each other’s eyes until he glanced down at my lips.

If I’m not wrong, I know what comes next.

His phone rang.

We both snapped out of it, and I looked away awkwardly.

“Uh, I should, I should probably take this,” he said, motioning to the phone. I merely nodded, and he stood up to go answer it and talk to whoever was on the other line.

I took a deep breath and bit my lip to keep from smiling so big.

Was he really about to kiss me? Does Peter Parker like me back?

“Aunt May was just checking in on me since she saw the train incident on the news,” he explained, walking back to me.

My eyes widened when I realized I didn’t call my dad. “Um, can I make a quick call? My dad’s gunna kill me,” I said, standing up.

Peter nodded, handing me the phone, and I quickly called my dad. I told him I missed the train and decided to come home when I heard what happened so he wouldn’t worry about me. Otherwise, he’d never let me leave the house. I’d probably be home-schooled. When I hung up, Peter had put his mask back on.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I smiled.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,” I said, once Peter landed on the ground again -just a few houses down from mine.

I had my arms wrapped around his neck, basically hugging him instead of having him carry me this time. He slowly set me down, but neither of us completely let go of each other. It just looked like I was hugging Spider-Man in the middle of the street -just another typical Saturday afternoon. This was a quiet neighborhood though, so no one was around to see this.

“It sure beats traffic though,” he said.

I smiled and said, “Oh yeah, definitely.” I dropped my hands from his neck and let them sit on his chest instead.= while his rested on the small of my back. “You gotta tell me how this happened though.”

“I can explain everything to you later. I think I’m getting better at telling the story,” he chuckled.

“Who else knows?” I asked. “I figured I was the only one who uncovered your deep, dark secret.”

“Ned found out by accident first. Then my aunt May -that was also an accident.” he explained.

“I think there’s a pattern going on here,” I teased.

“Yeah, I gotta get better at hiding this,” he admitted. He finally made the first move to pull away, much to my dismay. He pulled out his phone from his belt and handed it to me. “Here.”

I just looked at it and then back to him, “What?”

“Hold onto it until I can give you your phone back,” he said, putting it in my hand, “that way I have a reason to come back to you.”

I tried to hide my smile, but horribly failed. “I can give you another reason,” I said confidently.

I reached up to pull his mask up slightly, but stopped half way. His hands met mine, and he asked, “Uh, what are you doi-”

But I cut him off by leaning up and gently pressing my lips against his. Peter was shocked at first, but then he responded. It was short, but it still felt amazing. After I pulled away, I could see that Peter was left a stumbling mess.

“Um, I, uh, that’s a really good reason to come back, like, really good,” he mumbled.

I blushed the whole time, but smiled anyway, “Yeah, I, uh, think it was really good too.” I started walking backwards, “I have to, um, go, over there.” I pointed to my house, clearing my throat.

Peter pulled down his mask and said, “And I have to go to, the um, dumpster. I need to get my stuff back.”

We both chuckled nervously and I called out, “Bye Spider-Man!”

He yelled back, “Goodbye citizen!” before swinging away.

After saying our goodbyes, we went our separate ways. Once I got to my front door, I bit my lip and smiled just reliving the moment. I walked to my room, greeting my dad in the process, and fell onto my bed. My hands went up to my lips and I sighed in content.

I just kissed Peter Parker.

A/N: part 3?

tags: @whormotional @multifandom-slytherin @harrysbbby @karenhbhg @thegirlwiththeimpala @i-survived-my-trip-to-nyc @dont-rain-on-my-fandom @totallyrandomfandomfangirl @beforethebraces @apollos-love @hufflepeople @queen-zpidey

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