#if she’s trying to do the same it’s not showing

[aakeysmash]

prompt:

reader getting injured because she slipped in the shower, sukuna has to help her get to the hospital, where reader gets some pain meds making her kinda high. she confesses to him while being high

content: fluff, crack. reader is in the hospital and blood is named but there’s no gore. yuuji and sukuna are siblings. i love sukuna and i need him in my life so bad… someone PLS be my sukuna

“So, just to be sure: one margherita for me and one with sausage for you?” Asks you Yuuji while putting on his shoes.

“Yup,” you answer, popping the p. “Can I just have a quick shower while you’re gone?”

“Uhhh, sure, let me go ask Sukuna,” your friend tells you smiling and rushing up the stairs of his home.

You and Yuuji have been best friends since forever. You remember the first time you both cried your eyes out at the park in kindergarten because a lizard had just eaten the ladybug you had been watching for half an hour. Since that moment you’ve been attached at the hip, your homework filled afternoons in high school turning to pizza nights when both of your work schedules allowed you to now.

“Big bro said sure,” comes Yuuji’s voice from the end of the staircase.

“I did in fact not say that,” growls Sukuna from behind him. Sukuna is the same age as you and Yuuji, but he always seemed older. Sometimes wiser, but sure as hell more annoying than his brother. Hotter, too, but that’s a topic for another time.

“I didn’t ask you to join me, big boy,” you say sarcastically, fake smiling. He crosses his arms, leveling you with a bored look.

“Yuu, if you aren’t fast enough you’re not going to find her corpse when you get back,” he tells his brother, still staring you up and down. Yuuji sighs, tired, then opens the front door.

“Make sure to not kill each other. I have a shift after this, stop bickering. You two act like siblings more than I do with you, Sukuna,” he reprimands you both. You and his brother roll your eyes at the same time, then you push him out, closing the door in his face. You turn around and find yourself face to face with Sukuna's menacing grin.

“You have 5 minutes before I come knock at the bathroom door with a kitchen knife, doll.”

You’re scrubbing yourself clean with a random pine body wash you found in the shower when the playlist you put before entering the stall stops. You’re annoyed, because now you’re forced to listen to Sukuna’s ugly songs from the bathroom wall (that he’s blasting just to annoy you), so you try to reach your phone. You’re on your tippy toes, not wanting to get out completely, when you trip and fall since you didn’t wash the soap away from your body. You bump your head on the sink in front of the shower, hard, and you muffle a whine. You close your eyes as hard as you can and open the shower head with the room spinning inside your skull.

“Don’t open your eyes, don’t open your eyes or you’ll fall… fuck, it hurts so bad,” you tell yourself while you speed run the end of the shower and blindly put your shirt over your head. It’s not the first time you've bumped your head on something, you were a crazy kid, so you’ve learned to open your eyes only when you physically can’t function anymore or you'll start seeing stars immediately. You barely get to put your pants on when you notice your forehead feels wet, and you didn't even wash your hair. As you get out of the bathroom wobbling you touch your head. When you open your eyes, you see blood on your hand. The room spins. You barely have time to look up and watch Sukuna coming out of his bedroom frowning before seeing black dots in your vision.

You try opening your eyes, but they feel so heavy. Your body feels rather stiff. What's this smell?

"Oh, she's waking up," a female voice softly says from somewhere next to your right.

"Thank you, miss, I got it from here," a rough voice responds.

"Make sure she drinks a lot, and keep a couple of painkillers near you. The scans show she doesn't have any internal damage, but she hit her head pretty hard. She's going to have a big bruise for a couple of days," the female voice continues. You hear the man making a sound of affirmation.

There’s a brief pause. "Your wife is very lucky. It's not every day that a man takes a woman up four flights of stairs by simple arm strength," the woman concludes sweetly, getting out of the room after he responds with a grunt and closing the door behind her.

"Your ass is lucky I lied or they wouldn’t have let me in, dumbass. Open your eyes, I know you're awake," the voice you now recognise as Sukuna says, getting closer. You try opening your eyes, managing to focus your gaze on him. Everything feels so fluffy, apart from your throat. You cough, and you think you see him rolling his eyes before getting you a glass of water and sitting beside you on a chair. You gulp it down, still feeling fuzzy, then you blink a couple of times.

You gape at him. He's cute. “You look funny,” you say, poking his cheek. He’s so squishy. Like a little mochi. A little mochi filled with strawberries. Strawberries and cream. He slaps your finger away, and you put on a hurt expression. He huffs.

“Why am I here?” You ask. The more you look at him, the more heads he seems to have.

“You fell in the bathroom,” he says, straightening up from the chair and covering your right leg with the duvet the hospital gave you. You raise an eyebrow at his gesture, and he just rolls his eyes again. “Don’t want you to also catch a cold. Yuuji would kill my ass.” You just hum.

“I caught ya when you already fainted. Yuuji came back home and panicked, but he couldn’t back out from work, so I was stuck with your ass. Took ya here but the elevator broke down. And I ate your pizza, by the way. All this is gonna cost ya 200 dollars, cash,” he lists, sprawling back onto his chair, deadpan.

Silence engulfs the both of you, and you don’t know what to say. You heard what the nurse said and you are searching for a way to bring it up, but the words in your mind are all scrambled. It’s probably the morphine that you realise they gave you, IV still attached to your left arm. You open your mouth to say something along the lines of “I’d like to thank your gym membership for this,” but instead the words that leave your mouth are-

“I’d like you to be my husband.”

His eyes snap to your widening ones. “Wait that wasn’t what-“

“Huh?” He just replies, dumbfounded. You panic, waving your hands in the air between you two.

“No, what I meant was- like- thank you for getting me up here- can you stop looking at me with your weird 16 eyes?- not that you aren’t attractive! You’re super hot! But that’s not- oh god,” you whimper, rubbing your face, noticing how you’re just making the situation worse. You prepare yourself for his snarky comeback, closing your eyes, but everything is silent.

Suddenly, you hear him snort. You crack your eyes open, touching the big cotton gauze they put on your forehead. You must be hearing things. It’s definitely the morphine, there’s no way Sukuna is actually laughing.

“Yes, I’m laughing, doll,” he says, chuckling. You widen your eyes.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You cringe.

“Yeah, you kinda did,” he responds, smirking. You groan.

“Take me out to dinner first, damn,” he yawns. You jut your bottom lip out, frowning and giving him your middle finger. Then you register his words.

“You’d come? I mean, if I asked you out.”

“Well, if you’re paying,” he responds, shrugging. That’s still a yes, isn’t it?

He ruffles up his pink hair, black t-shirt straining across his bicep. You can’t contain the urge to poke the muscle.

“Stop touching me like I’m made of play dough, doll,” he sighs, slightly less annoyed than 5 minutes ago.

“Would you let me play with you if you were made of play dough?” you ask, words a little slurred, still poking his arm, and he flexes it. “Don’t show off,” you mumble.

“You’re even weirder when you’re drugged,” he grins. He kinda looks scary, though. If you didn’t know him, you’d piss yourself by looking at his sharp teeth.

“But would you or would you not?” You whine, dragging out the last word, letting your hand fall next to you. He misses the warmth of your hand, so instead, he just puts his on your thigh. To be warm, of course. The room is so cold. Yeah. Definitely because of the missing heat.

“Yeah doll, I would.”

[hoshifighting]

WARNINGS: jihoon dealing with an extremely horny reader, guided masturbation, smut, fingering, mentions of body fluids (cum/precum), humiliation, crying, overstimulation, lots of dirty talk, mentions of penetrative sex, teasing, clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, degrading.

@jihootea ALWAYS planting jihoon brainrot on meeee!! now i cant stop picturing how jihoon would deal with his partner when she's drop-head horny… he would be a MEANIE, like, no mercy. AND he can almost smell the horniness from you. even though he's turned back with his producing chair.

except you know, know, he’s aware. he can probably feel your eyes drilling into him, can hear the way you’re struggling to sit still, thighs rubbing together just enough to keep your sanity hanging by a thread.

and then, without even looking at you, he says, “you good over there? squirming like you’ve got a problem or something.” his tone is so casual it makes you want to throw something. it’s not even a question—it’s pure fucking tease, dripping with this smugness that makes you want to melt and scream at the same time.

“jihoon…” you whisper begging, but he just lets out this tiny scoff, like he’s already bored of you. he leans back in his chair, finally giving you his attention, eyebrow cocked like he’s waiting for you to entertain him.

“what?” he drawls, eyes sliding down to your legs, then back up to your flushed face. “you slut can’t keep that little thing between your legs under control?”

it’s embarrassing, the way he says it, like he’s talking about some little pet that you can’t handle. you bite your lip, trying not to combust as he looks you up and down, arms crossed, manspreading, all arrogant and completely unimpressed.

“if you’re that desperate,” he says, eyes narrowing, “why don’t you show me? right here...”

your mouth goes dry, heart slamming against your ribcage. but you can’t ignore the way his voice gets lower, like he’s waiting, daring you.

your hand’s barely down there inside your shorts, fingers brushing against the clit, when you hear him snap, “who said you could keep those on?” his tone’s rougher than usual. you’re quick to slide them off, hooking your thumbs in the waistband and slipping out of your shorts and panties in one go like they were one piece only. you toss them at him with a grin, watching his eyes light up satisfied as he catches them, raising an eyebrow at you.

he takes the panties from the bundle and brings them up to his face, holding your gaze the whole time. smirking. the way he watches you squirm, vulnerable in a way you never quite do with anyone else. it’s him. “getting all shy now? didn’t think you had it in you.”

you swallow, cheeks burning, but you don’t drop his gaze, even as he tilts his head.

“are you waiting for permission or something?” he snaps, that edge back in his voice. “didn’t i tell you to touch yourself? whats the hold-up? are you just that pathetic that you need me to walk you through it?”

you pout, voice coming out soft and whiny, “aren’t you going to help me?”

“oh, no, sweetheart. if you’re that desperate, you’ll just have to do it yourself. all by yourself, since you’re such a big girl already.”

your hand slides between your legs, finding that slick, that had been bothering you for hours already, you shiver as your fingers spread it over your folds, teasing your clit. his ears twitch up almost like a cat when he hears how wet you are.

“barely even touching yourself and already making a mess. and here i thought you had some self-control.” he drawls.

you whimper, biting your lip as you roll your fingers over your clit, feeling that ache, that need, building up. but he’s just watching, eyes raking over every inch of you with that judgmental gaze, making you feel ten times more exposed than you are.

“is that the best you can do?” he sneers. “pathetic. thought you wanted this, but you’re just playing around, aren’t you? can’t even get yourself off without me telling you what to do.”

you let out a frustrated whine, pressing harder, slipping a finger inside, anything to relieve that pressure, but it’s like his voice is right there, mocking you, judging every little movement.

“keep going,” he says, voice so cold that makes your skin shiver up. “maybe if you try a little harder, you’ll actually be worth watching. spread that pussy f’me.”

your fingers obey trembling as you slide them out to spread yourself for him, he sees the mouthwatering cream being expelled from the tight little hole. “look at that,” he sneers, tilting his head as he takes in the view. “so messy. you’re really that worked up, babe? got yourself all soaked just sitting here like a needy little slut.”

your breath hitches, a moan slipping out despite yourself as you finally push two fingers in, hips bucking, feeling that burn. his eyes gleam, watching the way you struggle to keep quiet, and he smiles, soooo pleased.

“aw, you’re whining already?” he coos, tone mocking, like he’s talking to some helpless, needy thing. “that desperate? thought you could handle yourself, but look at you—just a mess on my couch. tell me… wishing it was my fingers instead?”

you can’t help the whimper that escapes, hips lifting, and he catches it, eyes sparking.

“oh?” he chuckles, leaning in slightly. “or is it my cock you want, huh? that’s it, isn’t it? poor baby, too worked up to even admit it.”

the moan that slips from your lips is helpless, your back arching as you dig your fingers deeper, feeling the heat coil tighter. his smirk widens.

“then show me how bad you want it,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower. “curl those fingers up, just like that… think you can even get yourself close to how good i’d make you feel?”

you nod, whimpering as you obey, curling your fingers up to hit that weak spot, feeling the way it makes your toes curl and your thighs tremble.

your warning slips out in a shaky breath, “ji… wanna cum,” as you meet his gaze, eyes pleading. he watches you, eyes heavy hunger, one hand squeezing his length through his pants, jaw tight as he throws his head back for a second, like he’s savoring the sight of you so worked up.

when he looks at you again. “go on,” he coos, smirking as he tilts his head. “didn’t last long, did you?”

you feel your body tremble, hips jerking as your hand moves faster, fingers slipping inside as you cry out, not caring anymore how loud you are, a mess being created on his studio's sofa. but just as you start to come down, just as you think it’s over, he speaks again.

“who said you could stop?” he sneers, eyes narrowing as he watches you with that amused smirk. “you’re not done yet. keep those fingers moving. keep going for me.”

a whimper escapes your lips as your overstimulated body obeys, fingers shaky but pushing in deeper, pressing against that sensitive spot again. your hips buck up involuntarily, every nerve screaming pleasure giving you a new ache that has you gasping.

“jihoon, but—” you try, voice breaking, but he cuts you off, voice sharp.

“if you don’t keep going, there’s no chance in hell i’ll give you what you want.”

you bite your lip, a desperate moan slipping out as you force yourself to keep moving. your fingers finally slip out, drenched and trembling, but instinct pulls you to the sensitive bud, fingers barely brushing over it as you start drawing slow, shaky circles. the touch is too much, making your eyes squeeze shut as your legs shake on either side, instinctively trying to close, but you keep them open, fighting against every urge to stop.

your face frown and you feel a hot prickle at the corners of your eyes, your voice breaking, choked, as you mutter, “ji… can’t… i can’t take it anymore…” your lower belly clenches, your body spasming at every soft circle you trace, a tear slips down your cheek, face flushed and damp, as you shudder, fingers shaking as they push you to that razor-thin edge again.

he leans forward, catching every broken sound, every little sob, his smirk widening as he coos, “oh, poor thing… already crying?” his words make you shake even harder, your body backstabbing you as you keep going, fingers pressed firmly on that nerve.

your thighs are burning from holding yourself open, your sobs grow louder, broken and dumb, and he’s just sitting back, arms crossed, his forearm muscles popping, veins standing out as he leans forward, eyes fixed on every shaky fingering.

“isn’t this what you wanted, slut?”

a whimper escapes you, eyes blurry with tears as you nod, “j-jihoon… can’t…” your hips buck up, trying to escape your own hand.

“keep going thought you were horny. or were you just pretending?”

another whimper, tears spilling down your cheeks as you press down on that sensitive bundle of nerves, every little touch pushing you higher, closer to that edge you’re not sure you can survive again. “please… too much…,” you cry, voice cracked.

“too much? aww poor baby...” he taunts, shaking his head slowly.

your insides twist, so intense you’re not sure where one ends and the other begins. you curl over yourself. each touch making your vision blur. nerves fried until you’re nothing but a quivering, soaked mess on the couch, every last bit of strength melting out of you. you don’t stop until he finally murmurs,

“good girl. that’s enough.”

you collapse, body going limp, fingers sliding away as you fall back, every limb heavy and useless. your chest heaves, cheeks flushed, face still damp with tears, and hes on you in a second, leaning over, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks, lips.

“there ya’ go… you did so good, baby...” he whispers, like he’s helping you piece yourself back together. “my good girl, so perfect.”

you close your eyes, he shifts, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close against his chest, and you sink into the comfort of him, exhaustion pulling you under as he strokes your hair, fingers gentle, calming.

“get some rest,” he murmurs, pressing a final kiss to your temple. “you’ll need it, sweetheart. when you wake up, i’m going to make sure you really can’t move. gonna fuck you so hard...”

[lotties-ashwagandha]

THE FIRST TO BREAK

agatha harkness x reader x rio vidal

NSFW! when they can’t decide who indulges you more, agatha and rio find a way to settle it in competition. based on this ask i got. 1.3k words. i might have written this at 7am (that’s my excuse if it’s bad <3).

Rio’s arms rest looped around your waist as you stand at the stove. Her head rests on your shoulder as she watches you work, as you pour herbs and spices into a pot —you got up early, stalking through the kitchen to create something to prevent the illnesses that will be coming with winter soon. You use your witchcraft in the way of herbs, a potion witch as they would call you.

“You don’t need any of this,” Rio whispers. She watches you stir, and her arms around you grow tighter. “I’m not taking you from illness.”

You smile softly. You’ve tried to explain to her before that it’s not just about life and death, but discomfort — how much life resembles the gleaming, shifting ideal of thriving. She is still learning, it’s a concept too human for what is ancient, for Death.

“You’re going to keep her alive forever,” Agatha’s voice rings out into the gentle silence of the kitchen as she speaks to Rio. You turn slightly in Rio’s grasp to look over at her, and as she pours a coffee for herself Agatha raises her eyebrows at you accusingly. “Don’t break my favoritism streak.”

You shake your head. “I’ll try.”

Rio rolls her eyes. She steps away from you, leaning against the kitchen island behind her as she turns to Agatha. “If one of us is treating her with favoritism, it’s not me.”

“Really? That’s a stretch. How do I treat her with favoritism?”

Leaving the contents on the stove to simmer, you turn to watch them argue over you. It is playful, but still endearing, because you know they both treat you with favoritism.

“You answer to whatever she wants,” Rio says, like it’s obvious. “Even when she doesn’t ask, you’re always giving.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“No. Stealing diamond earrings and a diamond bracelet in the same week from a shopkeeper you threatened to kill is a little much though, isn’t it?”

Agatha is quiet for a moment, taking a sip of her coffee. She drinks out of a black mug Rio got her, wears a dark blue robe Rio bought her, wears a wedding ring Rio proposed to her with. You don’t think you are the one being shown partiality.

Agatha sets the mug down and looks at you. “What do you think?”

You didn’t think it had been worth bickering over. They had disagreed. Now as you lay on the bed with your hands tied all you want is for them to show you favor, to fuck you until they forget the petty competition they have created between them.

Two of Rio’s fingers slide into you as she takes advantage of her turn. The rules of their competition are simple: whoever lets you come first loses. You’re working up to the third time being edged, this is Rio’s second time on you and Agatha has only edged you once.

It was Agatha’s plan to make Rio go first, and now you can see why, because in the way she’s fucking you so greedily now with her fingers and in the low moans she lets slip as she sucks bruises onto your chest you can tell Rio will be the first to break. She wants to let you come as bad as you need it, her black nails digging into your hips as her free hand presses against you in a reminder to stay still.

“Look at her,” Agatha says, speaking to Rio as if you couldn’t hear, you were something to admire. “Doesn’t she deserve to come? She’s so beautiful for us like this.”

Rio lets out a frustrated breath, accusatory glance shifting to Agatha, who takes advantage of her proximity and pulls her into a kiss. You watch them above you, one of Agatha’s hands drifting to your breasts as she sits at your side. She’s trying hard to do anything she can to make Rio let you come.

Rio notices Agatha’s wandering touch. She pulls out of the kiss, pulling Agatha’s hand away from your breasts and replacing it with her mouth. The sensation elicits a gasp from you, and your back arches into the sensation of her tongue licking across one of your nipples.

“She’s so close,” Agatha whispers into Rio’s ear. She watches you with the same hunger in Rio’s eyes as she keeps fucking you with her fingers. “Think about how perfect she would look for you, how it would feel to have her—”

Just as you reach the edge of your orgasm, Rio pulls her hands from you. She compensates with kissing you — it’s not enough, though, and you can’t help but whine into the kiss. You need her touch, or Agatha’s, something to soothe the need growing in you so sharply.

When you pull away and look at Agatha, a conflicted expression occupies her features. You know she wants to give you an orgasm, but she also wants to win. As she takes Rio’s place and settles herself between your legs, head dipping down to kiss your thighs, you can see it — that there’s nothing she wants more right now than to feel you come on her tongue.

When Rio kisses you from beside you, Agatha delivers a sharp slap to the outside of your thigh. You tense, startled out of the kiss.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Agatha’s tone is demanding as she addresses Rio, who looks back at her with unbothered pride.

“I’m playing by your rules. You want to taunt me during my turn? It has to be even.”

“It will be even when I win,” Agatha says, and you’re overcome with the sensation of her tongue dragging through you. Your hands pull at the restraints above you to no avail. You want to reach down and weave your hands in her hair, or pull Rio closer to you as she watches.

Agatha runs her tongue over your clit. She does it harder, moaning against you when your legs begin to tremble on either side of her head. It’s almost painful how good it feels to have her tongue dipping inside of you and back up to your clit. With Rio’s lips crashing back into yours you can feel yourself slowly building into another orgasm — this time you need it.

“Please,” you beg breathlessly, hands pulling the restraints again. “You win, both of you can win…”

“Agatha,” Rio taunts beside you. She watches as Agatha draws you closer and closer to the edge — she watches when Agatha pulls away.

Yet when Agatha pulls away it’s not to let Rio take her place, but to slide two fingers into you and reposition herself so she can kiss you. You taste yourself on her tongue and a moan escapes you.

“Come for me, baby, give it to me,” Agatha murmurs. Your body responds immediately, any restraint you’ve tried to keep snaps as white-hot euphoria rushes over you. Agatha fucks you through it, fingers buried deep in you as she guides you through your orgasm. Vaguely you’re able to process Rio beside you as well with one of her hands between her legs — she’s gone with you, at the sight of you and Agatha.

Agatha kisses you again as you come down from it. You hear Rio breathing heavily beside you, and then Agatha is pulled away from you again so that Rio can kiss her. When they part, Rio looks into her eyes. “You fucking lose.”

“And you’re the one that got off on it.”

A smile makes its way to your lips. Playfully Rio shakes her head at you, Agatha moving to lay on your other side so that you’re sandwiched between them while Rio undoes the restraints on your wrists. You pull your hands down.

Laying down with them, Rio rests her head on her chest and loops an arm around your waist. Agatha holds her hand, and in their embrace you are enveloped by their love. There is no winner amongst you — the victory is shared.

[elluminis]

You know what, fuck this. I’m tired and angry, and there is nothing more frustrating to me than fighting against the people with the exact same values and beliefs as me with such a defeatist mentality. The way we get more leftist folks in positions of power is through ranked choice voting. Fight for that! Fight to end the electoral college, which is classist and diminishes the people’s power. Donate and protest and make your voice heard.

You know what DOESN’T make your voice heard? Refusing to vote. When you show politicians that you aren’t worth appealing to, of course they won’t appeal to you! This is how it fucking goes in the current state of the US presidential election. Candidates need to appeal to the broadest population available, and that means that the democrats need to appear to push more central. They are trying to get the votes of the republicans who don’t approve of Trump. Again: WE DON’T HAVE RANKED CHOICE VOTING. IT’S ONE AND FUCKING DONE. WE LIVE IN A TWO-PARTY SYSTEM.

That needs to change. Literally, so much will change for us with being heard when we can actually vote for the candidates our beliefs align with, without fear of throwing our vote away. Like you think I wanted to vote for Kamala Harris? Of course not. Of course she wasn’t my first choice. But I had two choices, and I picked the better one.

Anyway. The revolution isn’t coming, at least not anytime soon. Cast your fucking vote. (Or do so in the future, whatever.)

screaming "we can push them Left!" when all the while they've been pushing you Right.

[writetheidea]

In the Quiet of Us

Hello, I had another idea for a fan fiction. This one was more of a spur-of-the-moment idea, but I hope you still find it enjoyable. As always, I have anonymous ask available for those who would like to express their opinion anonymously.

Pairing:  Lando Norris x named!female character

Plot: Lando Norris learns to navigate his girlfriend's hesitation with physical affection, patiently helping her open up and show love in her own quiet, touch-starved way.

Tag: fluff.

Word count: 1697

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though.

The girlfriend has a name as I wasn’t able to write this without a name, I apologize, I made it a shorter name so it can be skimmed over. There is no physical description of them.

Lando Norris had always been an affectionate person, and anyone close to him would tell you the same. Whether it was a warm hug after a tough day or a playful nudge to break the silence, Lando found comfort in touch. Friends and family alike knew he’d be the first to throw an arm around your shoulders, squeeze your hand for reassurance, or wrap you in a bear hug when you needed it most. For Lando, physical closeness wasn’t just a part of life—it was his language, one he was fluent in and spoke without hesitation.

But when it came to Evie, Lando soon realized that physical affection wasn’t something she was used to. She wasn’t cold or distant—quite the opposite, actually—but there was a quietness to her, a shyness that kept her hands tucked in her lap rather than reaching out. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be close to him; he could see the way her eyes softened when he touched her, how her breath would hitch when he leaned in a little too close. But there was always a hesitation, a space she kept between them.

Their first date had been sweet and simple, a quiet dinner followed by a walk in the park. At one point, he’d offered her his arm, hoping she’d take it. But instead, she’d simply smiled and slipped her hands into her pockets. At the end of the night, as they said goodbye, he leaned in for a kiss. She blushed a deep pink, her hands clutching her purse as though it was the only thing keeping her steady. Her hesitation caught him off guard. He’d pulled back, a soft smile on his face to cover the moment’s awkwardness, but she didn’t move away. It was as though she wanted to be closer but didn’t know how to reach for him.

As the weeks passed, Lando began to notice the small ways Evie responded to his touch. She wouldn’t reach for his hand, but she’d linger if he held it. She wouldn’t initiate a hug, but once he pulled her into his arms, she’d hold on tight, pressing her face into his chest like she was grounding herself in his warmth. If he brushed her cheek with his thumb or let his fingers graze hers, her cheeks would flush, her lips parting in a soft, unsure smile. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be close—it was just that she wasn’t sure how to be.

It stung a little at first. Lando had always been so open with his affection, so ready to give, but he quickly realized that Evie just wasn’t used to it. And as he got to know her, he could see how deeply she cared for him in all the ways that didn’t involve touch. She’d make him laugh until his stomach hurt, stay up late just to talk about their days, remember every small detail he shared with her. He saw kindness in her every action, even in her hesitance. And whenever he held her, no matter how shy she seemed, she never pulled away.

She wasn’t rejecting him; she just wasn’t sure how to express her feelings through touch. But that didn’t stop him from being patient, from offering her the space she needed while still trying to show her how much he cared in his own way.

Then, as the months passed, Lando started noticing something else. A pattern, little signs that showed she was trying to be close in her own quiet ways. She’d poke his shoulder after a joke or hold her hand up for a high-five with a shy smile, only to linger a second too long. These gestures became more frequent—small touches, like a light brush of her fingers over his, the faintest hint of a hand on his arm. It dawned on him, in the sweetest way, that this was Evie’s version of physical affection. A high-five, a gentle nudge, an extra glance over her shoulder as he watched her laugh with his family. Each small touch felt like her way of reaching out, even if it didn’t look like much to anyone else.

And Lando loved it. Every high-five, every poke on his shoulder felt like a step forward, like she was learning how to show what she felt in her own way. He noticed that these gestures would come at the sweetest moments—after they’d had a laugh, or when she was watching him with that soft, shy smile of hers, or during the quiet times when they were just being near each other. He realized that Evie wasn’t distant at all. She was just... a little touch-starved, perhaps too used to holding back.

So he decided he’d help make up for all the love she hadn’t had, all the closeness she never felt she could ask for. He started pulling her close more often, wrapping her in warm hugs, brushing kisses over her temple whenever he could. She’d always hesitate at first, that little spark of nervousness in her eyes, but then she’d melt into his arms as if they were the safest place in the world. And every time, he’d whisper soft words of affirmation, making sure she knew how much he loved her, how happy he was just to hold her.

---

One afternoon, while they were sitting together in silence, Lando reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Evie’s ear. She looked at him, her eyes soft and a little uncertain, and he couldn’t help but smile. He liked the way she looked at him, like she was always just on the verge of saying something but couldn’t quite find the words.

“You’re so cute when you blush,” he teased gently, his fingers brushing over her cheek.

Evie turned pink, her gaze dropping to her hands. “I... I’m not good at this, Lando,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “Being close... I’m just not sure how to... I don’t want to mess it up.”

Lando’s heart ached at the sadness in her voice. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks. “Evie, you don’t have to know how,” he said softly, his voice filled with love. “You don’t have to do anything. Just let me love you. Let me hold you.”

She met his gaze, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and slowly, she leaned into his touch, allowing him to pull her close. Her arms wrapped around him tightly, as if he were the only steady thing in her world.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so soft, he almost couldn’t hear it. “For being patient with me.”

“You’re worth every second,” Lando murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He meant it with all of his heart.

---

As time passed, Evie began to open up in small, quiet ways. She started to initiate small gestures, things she’d never done before. She would reach for his hand when they watched a movie, her fingers gently curling around his. She would rest her head on his shoulder, her breath soft against his neck. Each small touch was a quiet declaration of her love, her way of showing him that she was learning how to trust in the closeness they shared.

One morning, as Lando was making breakfast, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind. He froze for a moment, caught off guard by the warmth of her embrace. But then he relaxed, covering her hands with his and smiling as his heart swelled. They stood there for a while, wrapped in each other, and for the first time, Lando felt like they had finally found a rhythm together—one that didn’t need words, one that was just about being there for each other.

Each day brought something new—a gentle touch, a small kiss, a hesitant hug. She would press a kiss to his cheek, rest her head on his chest as they lay together, ask him to hold her on days when she felt vulnerable. Every gesture made his heart swell, and he made sure she knew how much he cherished each one. With every forehead kiss, every squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, never a burden.

---

In the quiet moments that followed, Lando never stopped showing Evie how much he loved her. With every soft kiss on her forehead, every gentle squeeze of her hand, he let her know that her love was a gift, one he treasured deeply. And in return, Evie began to understand that love didn’t need to be loud or perfect—it just needed to be there, in every little gesture, in every quiet moment they shared.

One quiet evening, after a long day, they found themselves on the couch, wrapped up in each other and a warm blanket. The TV played softly in the background, but neither of them paid much attention. Evie was nestled against Lando’s side, her fingers tracing slow patterns over his hand, her head resting against his shoulder. He felt her breath even out, and he looked down to find her gaze soft and peaceful, a contented look he was coming to cherish. It was a peaceful silence, one that spoke volumes.

After a while, Evie lifted her head and looked up at him, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Do you think I’ll ever be as good at this as you are?” she asked, her voice filled with uncertainty.

Lando gave her hand a gentle squeeze, smiling at her with a warmth that held no expectation, only love. “You’re already everything I need, Evie,” he said simply, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Just as you are.”

She leaned back against him, her fingers curling around his as she closed her eyes, content. And for the first time, they didn’t need words to feel how much they meant to each other. They had found their own way, and it was perfect.

In that silence, wrapped in each other’s arms, they both knew that love could be quiet, soft, and yet, more than enough.

[basicallyjeankirschtein]

Left On Read - JJK Smau

chap2: why me? masterlist

warnings: slutshaming(directed towards you)

notes at end for those interested!

the minute you stepped into yuta’s dorm, you felt like you had just experienced a breakup. a bad, traumatic breakup. there was already a bowl of your favorite candy on the bed, untouched for you to engross yourself in. on the bed held numerous pillows and blankets, too many to count, with a laptop ready to screen Smile.

“hi, yuta.” you greet him with a friendly smile, a bit tense just by the atmosphere of the room. yuta seemed… guilty. a sheepish smile on his face that didn’t seem all that genuine.

“hi!” he greeted back, already yanking you down to his bed to watch the movie. “this is a scary movie, it’s great! we’ll watch the second right after this with everyone else-“

at the mention of the rest of the friend group, yuta began to trail off, going silent. he refused eye contact, instead blankly staring at the screen infront of him.

“you okay?” you asked, a bit concerned by the lack of energy he had just moments before.

“uh, actually, i’ve been meaning to show you something..” yuta begins after hesitating a few moments, fumbling with his phone.

“it’s of the group chat, before you joined…”

your soul leaves your body as you read the messages on his screen.

you don’t know whether you should cry or laugh. maybe both. this was humiliating, and yuta was the only one trying to defend you?

“why would maki do that.” is all you’re able to muster, voice shaky yet lacking emotion.

“… it’s a really long story.” yuta sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“i honestly don’t know that much,” he begins. “she used to be in a friend group with just toge and panda, i joined a bit later. i was left out a lot, she was real mean to me but i never let it get to me… after awhile, she just turned to panda.”

panda? you had heard of him through toge. never met him though, and he’s never been in the group chat. what did maki do to him?

“i guess she lost interest in me cause i never reacted, so she began to fat shame panda a lot..” yuta gulped, sweat beading at his forehead. why did he look so guilty?

“panda left the chat after awhile. the only one who still has his contact is toge. without panda, she must’ve gotten bored and chose to target you..”

“why me?”

-

- yuji do NOT gaf 😭😭 a true sheep

- maki is mean for a reason btw i hate making girls mean i love girls girls so she will be explained soon!

- sorry if it’s rushed i wrote this before bed.. teehee

- gonna do a poll for love interest! keep in mind, i will not write nsfw for canon underage characters regardless of the fact i aged them up to 19. for canon of age characters, they will either be the same age as this squad or a bit older, i will write nsfw for them probably.

okayy thanks for reading chat!! here’s who’s asked to be tagged <3 @shokosbunny @kalulakunundrum @tenthmilo

[kaleidohscopic]

TRY AGAIN — JJH

PAIRING: jaehyun x female reader SUMMARY: if you could have it your way, you'd never have to see, hear, or even think about jeong jaehyun ever again. a fortuitous blind date, and that same dimpled smile after all those years, is somehow enough to make you reconsider. maybe he was always meant to be by your side. GENRE: exes to lovers! au, slight coworkers! au, romance, angst, slow burn, humour, some pining, a touch of smut WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, too many descriptions of coffee and wine, mentions of sex, general mature content and themes, reader is not good at talking about her feelings, joy x doyoung, i try to write about the complexity of relationships and personal growth (i fail miserably) WORD COUNT: 32.4k NOTE: oh. my god. it's finally here! there's certainly something different about writing for your ult. office scenes inspired by the internship i did at a big 4 firm that ended up rejecting everyone from my department (yes i'm still bitter). i actually wanted to get this out back in august to celebrate jolo but alas, Life. i guess this is a parting gift? (jaehyun i am nothing and nobody without you.) i poured a lot of heart into this fic and posting it feels like letting my child go out into the world alone... be safe my darling xx

You should’ve brought an umbrella. 

The early evening sky was darkening faster than usual, ominous grey clouds hovering between the skyscrapers like an unspoken but imminent threat. Though the ground was still dry, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be for long. Your haste to leave your apartment this morning had robbed you of the good sense to check the weather forecast, mind too preoccupied with tonight’s agenda to spare a thought for the possible torrential downpour that summer seemed to be so fond of. 

A glance down at your feet sent a twinge of annoyance through you. Of course you picked the black pumps to wear today. They were pretty, which was why you had slipped them on in the first place, wanting to make a good impression even if you told yourself you didn’t really care that much, but they were also expensive, and you did not want to get them wet. You said a silent prayer. Hopefully the impending rain would be kind to the leather.

“You better not be flaking,” Joy warned, voice crackling through your phone speaker. “I don’t really care what he thinks of you for not showing up, but it’ll reflect badly on me, and I can’t have that.”

You suppressed a smile. Ever the drama queen.

“I am literally walking out of the station right now. The Italian place, right?” you asked, pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs to gather your surroundings. The restaurant she had picked out wasn’t exactly an unknown location to you, but it had been a while since you last visited, and the buildings seemed to look back at you with a dazed unfamiliarity.

She gave an affirmative hum. “Two streets down from the exit. The reservation is under my name, but I think he might be there already.”

“Yippee. How exciting.”

There was a loud sigh from the other end of the line, and you could almost hear her rolling her eyes at you. “You do know I set this up with your best interests at heart, right?”

“Are you sure it’s not because you were bored and needed to use some poor soul for your own entertainment?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who put three packets of salt in Jungwoo’s coffee,” she fired back. 

Okay, maybe that one was on you. But it had been pretty funny seeing him spit it out all over the office kitchen counter and then meticulously clean up the mess with paper towels, all the while eyeing everyone on your floor with suspicion.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, “give him a chance. I think you guys could really like each other.” There was a pause. “Plus, he’s super fucking hot. Like if I wasn’t happily taken I would be climbing him like a tree.”

“Gross. I’m filing a complaint with HR.”

“Reporting me to my own department? I’ll make sure that file never even makes it through the portal,” she cackled at your empty threat, and you joined in with her. “Seriously though, just give him a chance. At least stay until the mains come out.”

“Fine,” you acquiesced, though you made sure she heard the huff that accompanied it. “But if he starts talking about cryptocurrency I am leaving.” 

Joy only laughed, assuring you he probably wouldn’t, and bid you goodbye with a parting command for you to enjoy yourself. 

On days like these, you couldn’t decide whether you were grateful or unlucky to have been placed on a team with her for your first project at the company. Technically speaking, Joy was your senior by almost two years, but even at that first daily stand-up half a year ago, filled with nervous smiles and clumsy introductions, you had the feeling the two of you would gel. By the time that first project wrapped up, the two of you had long progressed past mere co-workers, having bonded over 8-hour days of Powerpoint formatting and your mutual dislike of olives. You had never been more thankful for someone so vivacious to show you the ropes, and help you settle into the new environment with such ease.

However, Joy was a meddler.

Her meddling was what had you currently navigating the crumbly asphalt in your nicest shoes to meet the apparent hunk she had set you up with. You didn’t know much about the guy since she refused to give you his name, afraid you’d search him up on social media and then make up some excuse to back out once you had seen his face — like you had done with the previous two that she’d picked out for you.

Apparently, this one was from the Digital department, and had been at the company for a little over a year. Those were two out of the three pieces of information that she had deigned to bestow upon you, the third being that he had dimples, which she thought you’d appreciate.

Oh, and now the fourth one being that he was ‘super fucking hot’.

Who knew? Maybe you would enjoy yourself. Getting back into the dating scene was pretty low on your priorities, with your career and trying to stick to a consistent gym routine taking up the majority of your time, but you were never opposed to a bit of fun. 

Maybe Mr Super-Fucking-Hot could be a bit of fun. 

Just take it easy, you thought to yourself, spotting the glass windows of the restaurant as you rounded the corner. Il Giardino, read the sign that hung above the door. Cute.

Hastily, you shifted your bag and cardigan to the other arm and smoothed out the creases in your black trousers. You had tried for something a little dressy, but also office-appropriate since you were coming straight from work, and not like you had tried too hard and spent an unnecessary number of hours thinking about what to wear on this stupid blind date. Another quick glance at your reflection in the window, just to make sure there was no food or lipstick in your teeth, and you pushed past the door.

Soft jazz filtered through your ears as you stepped inside. The restaurant was nicely decorated, a few vintage Italian posters hanging on the exposed brick walls, and an overall rustic feel that paired well with the warm, earthy ambience. Judging by the patrons already seated, this place was a popular date night location, with all but one table occupied by couples sharing soft touches and flirty smiles over half-filled glasses of red wine.

Joy certainly knew how to pick a spot.

You gave the smiling hostess Joy’s name for the reservation, managing a weak smile of your own when she informed you that the other half of your party had already arrived, and followed her through the tables further into the restaurant. Outside, the first few raindrops had begun to splatter against the asphalt, slowly darkening the road with wet patches that were sure to grow into puddles. It seemed you had arrived just in time to escape the rain.

The hostess stopped at a more private table towards the back, and gestured towards the empty seat with that same welcoming smile. Mystery man, aka Mr Super-Fucking-Hot, was sat with his back to you, leafing through what you assumed to be the drinks menu. His silhouette from behind was alright-looking, you supposed, if you really had to put a label to it, but there was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his head. Perhaps you had crossed paths in the office lobby before?

You approached the table, trying to sneak a peek of him out of the corner of your eye, just to see if he lived up to Joy’s oh-so-generous description, without being so painfully obvious—

And froze.

“Is everything alright?” the hostess asked, still beaming at you. 

You barely heard her through the cotton wool that seemed to suddenly fill your ears, hands instantly clamming up as you took in the man in front of you. His warm eyes widened a fraction of a millimetre with recognition, quickly followed by something else you couldn’t place.

This was not happening.

“Is everything okay?” the hostess tried again. The corners of her mouth were beginning to slip, and she cast you a mildly concerned glance.

How strange you must have looked, standing stock-still beside your reserved table like a statue. The only things that could dispel the notion you had suddenly turned into stone were the light flush to your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your own heart that you were sure the whole restaurant could hear.

“Everything’s fine, just give us a minute please,” Jaehyun finally said, flashing the hostess a kind smile. She took her cue to leave, but not without another curious look between the two of you, hurriedly brushing away the waiter who was approaching the table and preparing to rattle off the specials. 

Hearing his voice seemed to break the spell that had rendered you so immobile. You straightened, shifting your bag higher up your shoulder, and turned to leave. Whatever this was, you were not entertaining it.

Chair legs screeched abruptly against the floor. 

“Wait,” he pleaded. 

Your eyes landed on his hand latched around your wrist first, before they moved to his face again. Slowly, his fingers loosened, but he kept you in his hold. 

“Will you sit, please?” he asked softly. 

You looked at him. Really looked at him, taking in his full, straight brows, the slope of his nose, the pinkness of his lips. His cheeks had slimmed since you had last seen him, allowing the sharpness of his jaw to really come through. Breathtakingly handsome as he always had been. A little older, a little more masculine, and yet somehow still the same.

And maybe because you still saw him, the boy that you loved, the first and likely only boy you had ever truly loved, you did sit, sliding into your chair like it was made of ice.

“It’s been a while,” he began, lowering back into his seat. You gave no indication that you had heard him at all, eyes focused on the flickering tealight candle at the centre of the table. The wax was a pinkish red colour, and the light scent coming from it was sweet, with a touch of tartness. Pomegranate, maybe. At your silence, he cleared his throat and tried again. “How have you—”

“Did you plan this?”

He pulled back a bit, as if in genuine shock. “No, I swear, I had no idea it was you. Joy only told me it was someone from her department, and that you were pretty, and she thought you’d be my type.” A pause. “Did you?”

Your reply was icy. “Why would I plan to see you?”

He looked away at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. You were probably mistaken, but something akin to hurt flashed in those eyes as he gave a short nod at your words. Likely a trick of the light. It was a little too dim in here. What reason would he have to be hurt? Why would he be bleeding when you were the one with cuts all over your hands from picking up the glass shards of your own broken heart?

An uncomfortable beat passed. “Well, I’d say it was nice to see you, but you know I’m not good at lying,” you said. Shouldn’t have sat down in the first place.

Grabbing your bag and cardigan, you made to stand up again, regretting your decision to come here, regretting giving in to Joy so easily, regretting leaving the house this morning without a stupid fucking umbrella. The drizzle outside had turned into a downpour in no time, and the street drains were definitely going to clog up tonight. 

Seoul and its fucking summer monsoon season.

“Can we just—please, can you—fuck. Can we have dinner and just talk? As friends?” His hand shot out across the table, as if itching to grab yours again, but thought better of it, letting his fingertips rest against the edges of the linen napkin you hadn’t even bothered to unfold. 

A refraction of light from his sleeve caught your eye. His cufflinks. He was wearing the cufflinks you had gotten him for your high school graduation all those years ago. 

They had been expensive. Four months of pay from your part-time job at the ice-cream parlour was just enough for the pale pearls set in sterling silver. You supposed it would have been silly of him to throw them away when they were so valuable. It wasn’t like you had thrown away the gold pendant he had given you either. That necklace hadn’t hung around your neck for a long time, but it still sat somewhere in the depths of your jewellery box, underneath all the newer ones you had bought for yourself or received from friends over the years.

“Fine,” you found yourself saying. “Sure. As friends. Why not?” 

Sinking back into your seat, you reached for the wine menu immediately. Enduring the next hour in the company of your ex-boyfriend without a drink? Unbearable. As much as you liked to convince yourself you were over him, from your behaviour tonight it was clear you most certainly were not, and only alcohol could soothe that blow to your pride.

Your eyes flitted down the page of reds, then the whites, then the sparklings. Christ, the prices in this place were not pretty. Joy would have to be in a completely separate tax bracket from you if these were the kinds of establishments she frequented. 

For a brief moment, you thought about ordering the most expensive bottle on the list — a Penfold’s 2018 Shiraz — just to be spiteful, but decided against it. If you were really going to be sharing a meal ‘as friends’, he would not be footing the entire bill. You wouldn’t let him.

The waiter, under the impression that things had somewhat cooled down, finally approached your table, albeit a bit cautiously. Hearing but not really listening, you let him sing praises about the wild mushroom ravioli, ordering it just to save yourself the effort of reading through the rest of the menu. When he reached the beverages portion of his spiel, you settled for a more reasonable bottle, a 2021 merlot.

It was only once he had left to put your orders in that you realised that you had not even checked if Jaehyun was driving tonight.

“I’ll pay for the wine, if you’re not drinking,” you said, fiddling with your napkin. You could probably finish the whole bottle yourself anyway. Maybe that would make it easier to look him in the eye.

“You really don’t need to do that,” he replied, voice soft but firm. The weight of his eyes on you was almost a tangible thing. “I’ll have a glass.”

Your waiter returned, making a show of uncorking the bottle before pouring it out into both your glasses. You couldn’t down the first one fast enough, draining half the contents in one long mouthful like it was your first taste of water after finishing a marathon. Jaehyun was more deliberate with his glass, taking only a few small sips before he set it down on the table again. If he noticed the speed at which you emptied yours, which it was pretty hard not to with the way you were gulping the wine down, he said nothing.

God, this was fucking awkward.

“So,” he began, trying to mask the crack of his voice with a cough, “what made you agree to this thing?”

You reached for the bottle. “Felt like I owed it to Joy,” you said, pouring yourself another glass. “I flaked out of the last two she organised.” 

Maybe you should have just gone on that first one with Taehyung, or Taehyun, or whatever his name was. Then you could have avoided this situation altogether. 

“So you do this kind of thing a lot, then?” came his careful question.

You were curt. “No.” 

He blinked a few times, the movements slow with confusion at the abruptness of your answer. You knew you were being difficult. You wanted to be. Five years could heal most things, but unspoken words could linger like splinters under your fingernails, festering below the surface. Calluses had hardened over the splinters of your breakup, tough and protective, but now it was as if they were pushing through to the surface again, your fingers newly tender at the sight of him after all those years. 

A small part of you wanted to give him a taste of your hurt, wanted him to feel the prick of tiny wood chips in the flesh behind his nail beds. The larger part, however, knew malice would do no good for you. You had survived the pain. There was no reason to survive poison as well.

“No, I don’t,” you tried again, a little softer, a little less jagged around the edges. “I think she just likes to set them up for fun. This is my first time on one of these blind uh…” The word date sat heavy on the tip of your tongue but refused to budge. “One of these things.” Maybe another mouthful of wine would wash it down.

“Her definition of fun can be rather interesting,” he said, politely filling the silence.

You hummed in agreement, raising the freshly filled wine glass to your mouth again as you scrambled around in your head for something, anything to say. It had been a while since you had last been out on the dating scene, and you were well aware of it, but good grief, it was like your conversational skills had evaporated into thin air.

“How do you know Joy?” was what you decided on after a deliberately slow sip.

Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to still know how to carry a conversation. “She’s one of the HR reps for Digital, so we’ve spoken a few times before. And her boyfriend is a friend from university.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “Have you met him?”

You shook your head lightly. “No, not yet. Hoping to, soon.” 

“You’ll like him. Doyoung’s a great guy. Patience of a saint.”

“He’d have to be to keep up with her,” you said, hints of a chuckle sprinkled in your voice. 

Something about the fact that he was already privy to more of Joy’s personal life than you were had a sliver of jealousy wriggling in your stomach. She was supposed to be your friend, and yet you knew very little about Doyoung besides his name, while your ex-boyfriend across from you had been buddy-buddy with him for probably years and years. Not that it was a competition to see who held more information about their coworker outside the office, but the feeling that you were somewhat losing didn’t sit well.

“It’s actually my first time on a blind date as well,” he said, allowing himself a tentative smile. “You know how convincing she can be. I mean, I don’t think I’d ever go on one if she hadn’t roped me in. It feels a bit silly meeting up with a complete stranger, you know?” He turned his smile to you, still tentative but coloured with a tinge of hopefulness, like he wanted you to understand, like he knew you would. 

How could you not? There had once been a time where you believed that you and Jaehyun had been two halves of the same soul, carved into existence from the same stone. There had once been a time where you knew him almost better than he knew himself. 

A time rather distant from now.

You kept your answer non-committal. “Sure,” you murmured, wishing his pretty face wouldn’t fall so quickly at your nonchalance, wishing you hadn’t caught the slightest droop to the curve of his mouth. Everything about him was still too familiar. “I’m just a bit surprised to hear that, I guess. You were so desperate to meet new people back then.”

Three seconds passed in silence. 

His eyes dropped to his lap, as did yours to your own. This previously reasonable bottle of merlot was loosening your lips rather unreasonably.

“Sorry, that was—” Unnecessary? Mean? 

True? 

“I didn’t mean to say that,” you finally managed, the words spilling out of your mouth in a tumbled rush. 

Or maybe you had. 

Jaehyun could only flash you a weak smile. “It’s fine,” he said, though you both knew it wasn’t really.

Frigidity returned to the air between you, stopped just short of freezing over by the reappearance of your waiter, along with a plate of goat’s cheese arancini. Jaehyun politely gestured for you to eat first, watching as you speared the crusty surface with your fork and moved it over to your own plate. For a few seconds, the only noises that could be heard from the table were the clinks and clanks of stainless steel utensils against ceramic plates. The arancini could not have come at a better time, affording both of you the opportunity to hide behind the guise of eating, and put off the need to make strained conversation, even if the time it bought you was fleeting.

Meet new people. Those were the exact words he had said to you all those years ago. Han River on a Tuesday night, cherry blossom petals fluttering through the balmy April air, the iciness of winter finally melting away into a distant memory to reveal fresh green carpets and vivid blooms — few things could have been more romantic. Spring is the season of love, they said. 

But for you, spring was the season of loss. It was the season when love ended, when love could be taken back and snatched away in the blink of an eye. On a Tuesday night in April, you learned that your love was not just not enough, but that it was a burden, an obstacle between Jaehyun and living his life to the fullest. That time spent with you was time squandered. That you were robbing him of the complete university experience, and to an extent, his youth.

Jaehyun had always been a wanter. He wanted boldly and he wanted freely, never dwelling too long on how his wanting could appear in the eyes of others, never shy about his desires. When he was ten years old, he wanted a dog, despite the reddening of his nose and the watering of his eyes whenever he’d get within arm’s distance of the bichon frisé. In tenth grade, he wanted you, with cans of peach soda and sweet little notes in your locker until you finally said yes to being his girlfriend after three days of public pursuit. 

(You had arguably wanted him more, and for longer, though nobody had been none the wiser — you were rather good at hiding your feelings.)

Two months into your first year at university, his wants changed. He wanted more space and more freedom to meet new people. He wanted to be able to attend club social outings, and get to know his seniors, and play drinking games with his new roommates, instead of trekking to the other side of Seoul every week to see you, his girlfriend, who had now become his obligation.

It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed a shift in his behaviour in the months leading up to that fateful night. Smiles had become a little wearier. Texts had become sparser. You had chalked it up to the challenges of settling into the new routine and rigorous coursework, and the distance between your schools that occupied opposite sides of the city. Sure, the hour-long subway ride from his campus to yours wasn’t the greatest asset to your relationship, but 18-year-old you had remained optimistic it would endure whatever curveballs your first year of university and the beginnings of real adulthood would throw at you. 

You had survived the CSAT together and emerged in one piece. What else could be harder than that?

“You’re right though,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on his own piece of fried goat’s cheese. “I guess I was.”

You let your fork drop with a soft clang. “Let’s not, uh—we don’t have to talk about that.” Pink petals were swimming at the edges of your vision. 

Please, let’s not talk about that.

A flicker of something behind his eyes could almost convince you he wanted exactly the opposite of your unspoken plea. Maybe this was a conversation he didn’t actually want to avoid the way you so desperately did. 

And maybe he would have said something too, if not for the waiter who returned at that precise moment. 

“The mushroom ravioli,” the waiter announced, setting the plate down in front of you, “and the amatriciana spaghetti. Enjoy.” 

Four pieces of pasta covered in sage butter looked back up at you. 

You made a mental note to never order ravioli at an Italian restaurant ever again. 

The sound of scraping utensils returned to your table, lightly blanketing the stilted pause in conversation with idle noise. Without much enthusiasm, you sliced at one of the four pieces of your ravioli, throwing what you hoped were sneaky glances at the full plate of spaghetti sitting in an appetising red sauce laid out before your ex-boyfriend. 

“Do you want to try mine?”

Sneakiness had never been your forte.

Your polite refusal came quickly, even if it was rather weak to your own ears, but Jaehyun was already twirling a portion out onto the share plate the waiter had kindly provided a few minutes earlier. He made sure to scoop some sauce and pancetta bits on top as well, before gently pushing the plate towards you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, though you made no move to dig in.

Everything wasn’t supposed to feel this familiar. You weren’t supposed to soften so easily at the sight of his dimpled smile. You weren’t supposed to feel that strange tug in your chest at his thoughtfulness, at the way he could still pick up the slightest change in your expression. And maybe the bar was too low, and here you were fawning over nothing more than the bare minimum, because what guy would see his date enviously looking at his food instead of her own and blatantly ignore it?

But with Jaehyun, it was different. You knew it was. Within every action, there was familiarity and practice, there was thought and care, there were years of history that were unerasable, even with the passage of time. You weren’t the same wide-eyed teenagers now as you had been then, and yet scenes from the rest of that excruciating first semester flickered in your mind. 

A silent breakdown during a business administration lecture. Your roommate’s concerned expression when you decided to skip dinner again.

The tug in your chest was leading you back into dangerous territory. 

For the third time tonight, you debated grabbing your things and walking straight out. You had only promised Joy that you would stay until the mains came out. If you were going to leave now, technically, you would still have fulfilled your end of the promise. Arguably, this wasn’t the best time to make an exit — fifteen minutes earlier would have been much better so that the kitchen would have time to cancel your stupid ravioli before they started preparing it. Leaving now wouldn’t be the most optimal, but it was still an option. A tad heavy on the dramatics, but you could live with that. You’d just never be able to step foot in this establishment again.

A shame. The spaghetti looked good. You’d have to search up if this place did delivery.

“You can go if you really want to, I won’t hold it against you,” Jaehyun said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the fork he was twirling through his dish. You supposed you should’ve been surprised at the way he could read your mind without even looking at you, but you couldn’t find the energy in you to pretend.

“But,” he continued at your silence, “if you’re willing to stay, I’d really like it if we could just catch up?” At this, he finally met your eyes and offered a small smile. “It has been a while, after all.”

Maybe it was the sincerity contained in those soft brown eyes. Maybe it was because you really did want to try the amatriciana spaghetti while it was hot and fresh off the stove. Whatever it was, you found yourself resolving to stay, despite all the reasons not to, despite the sound of them loud and clear in your head, ready at your disposal. Allowing yourself to indulge in nostalgia once in a while couldn’t be that bad for you. Right? 

So you stayed. And you ate (his spicy amatriciana scored a landslide victory over your mushroom ravioli). And you talked. As two friends would do, catching each other up on the things that had shaped your lives since you had gone on your separate ways. 

Conversation was clunky at first, that was to be expected. Even the closest of friendships would encounter some choppy waters when reconnecting for the first time after five years. But conversation with Jaehyun gave way to smooth sailing much quicker than you would have expected. He still wore the face of the boy who would sneak an extra serving of fried sweet potato from the cafeteria because he knew you liked them, but he wasn’t quite the same. Older, certainly. Maturity wasn’t something that went hand-in-hand with age like you had thought when you were younger, but he was more mature too. Surer of himself, and his place in the world.

You heard of the summer he spent in the UK after graduation, visiting his uncle and their family, appreciating classical architecture and the leisure inherent to rolling green hills that he hadn’t been able to find in the metropolis he had grown up in. (The food, however, was an entirely different story. He had never been so overjoyed to see a bowl of rice that wasn’t covered in mushy peas or sitting in a puddle of questionable-looking curry.)

He learned of your semester exchange in Amsterdam, including the unfortunate incident involving you, a runaway bicycle, and the freezing water of the Dutch canals. Fortunately, a nasty cold and two weeks in bed over the Christmas break were the worst things that came of it. Those few months had been eye-opening, to say the least. Stepping outside of your own bubble had made you realise how much more there was to the world, and how little you knew of it.

Yes, Jaehyun had changed, but then again so had you. The realisation dawned halfway through dessert, slowly settling over you as you spooned at the tiramisu in the centre of the table. Perhaps it hadn’t been fair to him that you had been harbouring this seed of antagonism towards him for all these years. He, so afflicted by youth, as you both had been back then, was only doing what he thought was right and necessary. Could you really fault him for that? You had seen enough of life now to know that sometimes, nobody was to blame.

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation before he spoke again. The sound of his voice drew you away from the window, where you could see that the rain had slowed from the earlier dramatic downpour to a lighter shower. 

“I know I probably wasn’t who you were expecting today,” he said, a little hesitant and gauging your expression.

“You definitely were not.” You gave him an amused half-smile over the rim of your barely-filled glass, which he returned. The bottle of merlot sat tall and empty on the table.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, taking in a breath, “I’m glad it was you. It was really nice to see you again. And I’m sorry if you were disappointed that it was me.” 

There was something sad in the curve of his mouth, you thought. It tempered the warmth in his eyes.

“I’m not disappointed,” you heard yourself say. “Really.”

It was the truth. You knew he could see it written across your face. Dishonesty and insincere flattery were not familiar weapons you wielded. He knew that. He knew you.

Jaehyun sat back, bringing his own glass to his lips and draining the lingering contents. Perhaps to hide the private smile that broke out across his handsome face, which you pretended not to see, turning your attention back to the raindrops pattering against the window. 

The evening air was cool on your bare arms when you stepped out, taking shelter under the awning in front of the restaurant. You weren’t the only one who had forgone a weather app consultation today. Jaehyun stood beside you, hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his slacks, a not unwelcome companion while you waited for your taxi to arrive. He’d call one later, after he made sure you had gotten in the car and were on the way home.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” he asked, tone light. 

You cast a sidelong glance at him. His profile was backlit by the warm light emanating from inside the restaurant, carving out the straight bridge of his nose, a soft shadow cupping the fullness of his bottom lip. Would there ever be a time the sight of him wouldn’t take your breath away?

“Maybe,” you breathed. Letting him back into your life wasn’t a decision you felt ready to make yet, and you had no intention of promising him anything you couldn’t be sure you’d be able to deliver. Even if you would only be promising him friendship.

He didn’t push it further and hummed in understanding. Then your taxi was pulling up in front of the restaurant, the splash from the tyres just missing the hem of your trousers, and you were bidding him goodbye, staring a second too long at the dimples that appeared, and trying not to step in a pothole puddle as you clambered rather ungracefully into the car. 

But because realisation was never punctual, it was only when you arrived home, carefully kicking off the black pumps and patting them dry with a microfibre cloth, that you realised two things. 

First, you had left your cardigan at the Italian restaurant.

And second, Jaehyun had footed the whole bill.

There was a reason the seventh floor was your favourite floor in the building.

It wasn’t because of the little in-office cafe with the cute but ridiculously overpriced pastries that tasted even better than they looked, or the deceptively comfortable bean bag chairs by the far window that would always tempt you with a mid-afternoon nap every time you sank into one of them.

No. The seventh floor was your favourite because it had a Nespresso machine. Free use. Company-funded.

A seventh floor coffee was one of the only things that could get you to leave the comfort of your desk and willingly walk up two flights of stairs. (The elevators always took too long.) On Monday afternoons like these, after an entire morning swimming through attendance and sick leave reports from the last quarter, the promise of a smooth and velvety cappuccino felt like your only hope for humanity. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like everybody else had the same idea, if the line in front of the coffee machine was anything to judge by. 

“You should have told me!”

You gave Joy an incredulous look. “Right. Because I definitely knew exactly who he was.”

“Well, you could have worked it out. You’re a smart girl.”

“You said a total of three sentences about him.”

She paused, fixing you with a contemplative stare. Her eyebrows were doing that weird lifting thing when she was running something through her head. “Five sentences,” she finally managed, tapping around the rim of her empty mug. 

Why she came up with you at all when she wasn’t a coffee person, would probably take two sips of the espresso, and then complain it was too bitter, was beyond you. Sometimes you wondered if she was really that good at her job, or if her workload was just so non-existent that she could take five coffee breaks a day. It couldn’t be the latter, because you had seen that her calendar was full for the entire morning.

“Let’s not spend the next fifteen minutes talking about last Friday,” you sighed, already pushing thoughts of dimpled smiles and warm eyes to the far corner of your mind. Hopefully not to be revisited for a while. “I want my head outrageously blank while I enjoy this cappuccino. Swear to god Junmyeon is trying to drown me with those leave reports.”

“You know he only assigns them to you because you’ve never told him you hate doing it.”

“He assigns them to me because I’m the only one available who can get it done properly. You’re always blocked out, and Jungwoo has that weekly coaching session. Jisung tried to help me do it this morning, and he didn’t even separate paid from unpaid leave. The numbers looked like we were bleeding PTO.”

She gave you a sly smile. “You know you can block yourself out too,” she said off-handedly. 

“You can what?”

This was new information.

“You’re telling me someone else could be sifting through that 70-page file if I just schedule in a random meeting with myself?” you asked again, to which she nodded.

“Has yet to fail me. But make sure you name it something that makes sense, and don’t do it all the time, otherwise it’ll look suspicious.”

Corporate bullshitting was a fine art, and you were beginning to realise you were still but a novice at it. 

“And lay off the intern,” she added. “He’s just a child.” “He’s taller than Junmyeon.”

“A child in spirit, then. You know what I mean. He sort of reminds me of a cute little mouse,” she mused, trailing off. If her apartment complex didn’t have a pet ban, you had a feeling she would be taking in every stray animal off the street.

However, she was right. Jisung had been a bigger help than you had expected of a second-year commerce student. Even if it was just skimming through a finished presentation pack to fix up any typos and align text boxes, you couldn’t deny that having an extra pair of eyes and hands had made your life a little bit easier. Maybe you would even miss him once his summer placement came to an end and the semester rolled back around. As long as there weren’t too many more incidents like the one from this morning.

Speaking of this morning…

“Hey, does that mean you’ve been making yourself unavailable so you don’t have to read the—”

“Oh look! The line’s getting shorter. You should move up before someone cuts in.”

You shuffled forward, but not without throwing her a displeased look along with a grumble or two. Next time the quarterly attendance analysis rolled around, you were definitely making use of the trick she had just told you about. A quick glance up ahead. There were now three people in front of you in the line, but only one green capsule left on the rack. 

Please, caffeine gods be willing, let that last one be yours.  

“I can’t believe I told you that I thought your ex-boyfriend was super fucking hot. I feel so icky, like I’ve betrayed you somehow,” Joy said, making a face. The dimpled smile fought its way back into your consciousness, and you suppressed the twist in your stomach that seemed to accompany every recollection of it. 

“It’s honestly fine. There’s no way you could have known.” You shrugged, partly to reassure her it wasn’t a big deal, and partly to shake off that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The better part of your weekend had been spent trying to make sense of the night, after battling a merlot-induced migraine for most of Saturday morning and early afternoon. Three glasses had been a necessity to get through dinner, but it was ultimately overkill. You were no longer the girl from two years ago who took advantage of her afternoon class the next day by destroying a few soju bottles with your roommates. On a weeknight, too.

Joy gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Still, I’m sorry I put you through that. Hopefully it wasn’t completely awful?”

Completely awful, it was not. Awful at some parts? Maybe. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to see Jaehyun again. Not to say that you had never thought about it — you definitely had, running simulations through your head about how you would run into him on the street, ignore his greeting and walk past him like he didn’t even exist. But those were the musings of a heart-broken teenager, turning to spite and cheap endeavours at revenge to cope with the loss of her first love. Last Friday did have spite rearing its ugly head, but that spite was short-lived, and only one aspect that made up the whirlwind of emotions that came with seeing him again after all those years. 

“No, it wasn’t all bad,” you were about to say, when your eye was suddenly caught by a movement up ahead. 

A slender, veiny hand reached out to grab the last green pod from the coffee rack. You watched as the thief’s fingers closed around the capsule and slotted it into the machine. He pressed the lever down — because of course, it was a man. Not only was he on the better side of the gender wage gap, but he also had to be ahead of you in the caffeine race as well.

The sound of the capsule being punctured was the final blow. 

“My coffee,” you lamented under your breath.

“Have some patience,” Joy chided. “We’re nearly there. You’re like a zombie when you don’t have your little cup of bean juice.”

You shook your head glumly. “The last Peruvian. I waited for so long. It was supposed to be mine, and he took it.” 

“Who did?”

“The guy at the front.” 

Your eyes were still glued on the hand as it wrapped around the mug filled with your favourite blend, completely unaware that it had just robbed you of the only small pocket of joy you had been looking forward to all afternoon. Peering around the two people still ahead, your gaze travelled up his exposed forearm and the sleeve of the white dress shirt cuffed there. If only you could catch a glimpse of the face that had stomped all over your hopes and dreams… 

The lady in front of you shuffled closer to the coffee machine and finally cleared your line of sight. Coffee stealer’s ear came into view before his face did, and he was—

“Jaehyun?”

His name fell out of Joy’s mouth before you could even get your own to start working again and beg her not to call out to him. For a moment you were afraid you had conjured him out of thin air from the uninvited thoughts of him circling the outskirts of your mind. At least now you knew he wasn’t a hallucination.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows pinched in confusion first, then surprise, before finally smoothing over with recognition. He offered a small wave, eyes flitting from Joy over to you, and then he was walking over, and you were fighting for your life trying to mask the panic that was bubbling away inside your chest.

You shot Joy a frantic look. Why did you do that?

I don’t know! Sorry, said her returning one. The corners of her mouth were turned down in an apologetic frown, but she quickly schooled it into a smile at Jaehyun’s approach.

“I’ve never seen you on seven before,” Joy said, the spitting image of friendliness, nevermind that you were beside her and desperately looking for an exit out of the incoming conversation. “You’re always holed up somewhere on ten.”

You supposed you should have known this would happen sooner or later. Six months without running into each other when you worked at the same company, in the same building, was the exception, not the rule. You were just grateful Joy didn’t try to bring up her clever little dinner setup that had been plaguing you the entire weekend, or try and rope the two of you into awkward and unnecessary introductions.

“Someone told me I should come down and try the Nespresso machine. Apparently it’s really good,” he said, gesturing at the mug you had been staring at for the past three minutes.

“It is,” were the first two words you managed. Both pairs of eyes shifted towards you, waiting for the rest of your comment to come, but you could only disappoint, the syllables hanging thick and dumb in the air. 

There appeared to be some sort of blockage in your mouth-to-brain pipeline.

Joy cleared her throat lightly, throwing you a sideways glance. “Which one did you try? They all taste the same to me, but she only drinks the green ones,” she said, ignoring the panicked twitch of your mouth. She knew full well that he was the one you’d been staring daggers into ever since he grabbed that stupid capsule. Your stupid capsule.

Jaehyun’s eyes flicked between your face and the steaming drink in his hand a few times.

“Do you want mine? I think I might have taken the last green one.” He offered the mug to you. “I didn’t really know what to press, so it’s just a cappuccino. Regular milk. I haven’t had any yet.”

“It’s fine, you should have yours. I’ll get another one,” you politely declined. No matter how much you liked the Peruvian blend, it was not worth the charity from your ex-boyfriend. Even if it was the only thing that could get you through the rest of the afternoon. Even if he was holding the exact thing that you had been planning on getting. 

Hopefully the kitchen staff would restock those capsules by tomorrow.

The look he gave you was not a convinced one, but he didn’t push further. With your dismissal of his offer, the three of you lapsed into a sticky silence. Even Joy, who was so adept at making topics of conversation out of nothing, had little to add, passing up the challenge of pulling meaningful sentences out of your mouth. The stifling tension between you and Jaehyun must have been more powerful than you thought. 

“Shoot, I think I’m getting a Teams call,” Joy suddenly said, making a show of pulling her phone out and tapping the screen. 

Liar. She didn’t even have the app notifications turned on. 

“I should probably take this, but I’ll see the both of you later.” She flashed a contrite smile, and then she was off, almost speed-walking her way down the stairs you had come up together, all the while pressing her phone to her ear with a little too much urgency for a mid-afternoon cold call. By the look on Jaehyun’s face, he hadn’t been all that impressed by her impromptu theatrics either.

“Are you still in the line?”

“Sorry, yes,” you muttered at the woman behind you. Clearly, you were not the only one impatient for their caffeine fix. 

Finally, you were at the counter. You stared blankly at the rack of capsules. The empty space where the green ones were usually stored was glaringly obvious, jumping out at you while you skimmed through the other blends for a passable alternative. After many more seconds than would have been necessary to pick one flavour out of the remaining three, your fingers closed around a gold one. It would have to do for today. 

Jaehyun watched as you dropped the capsule into its slot and made your selections. Why he was still here with you was somewhat of a mystery. You would’ve thought that Joy’s hasty exit would have prompted him to do the same, saving the both of you from having to make bumbling small talk about the weather, or the weekend, or whatever else that two people working at the same company, with no other relational history, could talk about to fill in the silence.

Maybe he wanted to talk about the dinner bill. The fact that he had settled it, without you even noticing, had been weighing on your mind. It was less of a money thing — though you were pretty sure the total hadn’t been a modest number — than a pride thing. Being indebted to others always left a smear on your conscience. 

Being indebted to your ex-boyfriend was like someone had shit all over it.

Whatever. If he didn’t bring it up first, you would. This was the 21st century. You were both financially independent adults. Splitting the bill on a first date didn’t have to be such a contentious thing. 

Although technically, it was far from your first. And it wasn’t a date either, because you had refused to label it as such in your head.

The last few drops of milk and espresso trickled into the mug, before the machine stopped whirring altogether. You knew he was still there. You could feel his presence behind you. He had probably been waiting for the noise to stop so that you’d be able to hear him speak. Taking your mug off the stand, you turned to face him. 

“Your cardigan,” he said.

“Huh?”

Confusion splashed over you. You weren’t even wearing one today.

“I have your cardigan,” he amended. “From Friday. You left it inside the restaurant. One of the waiters brought it out, but you had left already, so I took it with me.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I have it now, if you want it back.”

“You do?” 

“I mean, it’s at my desk. I brought it in today,” he added quickly, seeing the way you were looking about his person like you were expecting it to materialise into his hands.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the brain fog that had decided now was the perfect time to strike. “Yes, I—thank you, um, for that. I can take it off you…?” 

Had you meant to have it sound so much like a question? It seemed like your capacity for human speech was always afflicted by some sort of malfunction in his presence.

“Okay, uh, do you want to come up to my desk? I’ve got it there.”

The elevator ride up to the tenth floor was a short one. You could have taken the stairs just to get the extra steps in, but with both of you holding uncovered drinks, three flights of stairs combined with your clumsy fingers were a slip hazard just waiting to happen. Still, despite the short journey, the seconds inside the elevator seemed to drag on for much longer.

Before you could lose your nerve, you opened your mouth to crack the silence. 

“Let me pay you back for dinner.” 

Good. It sounded good. Firm, but not overbearing. Hell yeah, you were getting the hang of this conversation-with-your-ex-boyfriend thing. 

Jaehyun seemed a bit taken aback by that, turning to you slightly with surprise woven into the crease of his brow. “You really don’t need to do that,” he said after a beat.

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out through the sliding doors before you could form a coherent response. It took a second for you to follow, the coffee inside your mug almost making a dangerous appearance all over the elevator floor as you caught up with his strides. 

“Think of it as me taking care of a junior colleague. I am your senior, you know,” he said over his shoulder, a smile gracing his features at the latter part.

“Only by half a year,” you grumbled. “That doesn’t even count.” The light shake of his broad shoulders let you know he had heard your gripes over his attempts at enforcing seniority. His accompanying laugh was a soft one. You barely caught it above the noise of the tenth floor office.

The mellowed cosiness of the fifth floor HR department was hard to be found here. You were used to some chatter, with the occasional high-pitched laugh from Joy punctuating the air. On days he was feeling particularly jovial, Junmyeon could be heard humming from whichever desk he had decided to park at for the day (such was the beauty of hot-desking and hotelling). The few occasions you shared a table with him had allowed you to recognise the melody of The Beatles’ Strawberry Fields Forever — always the same song, and he hummed everything except for the words ‘strawberry fields’, which he insisted on singing, albeit softly.

Nothing about Digital was soft or cosy. Except maybe the sofa in one of the open creative spaces. The floor buzzed with activity, from the influx of incoming call ringtones to agenda-packed meetings in conference rooms. A group of people were clustered around a floor-to-ceiling whiteboard covered in diagrams that were undecipherable to you, engaged in animated conversation while pointing at various parts of the board. Some of them greeted Jaehyun as he walked past with you in tow.

“I had no idea Digital was this busy,” you mused out loud, following him as he weaved through the desks.

He chuckled lightly. “We like to talk a lot. And some of us can get a bit loud,” he said. The joking undercurrent to his voice had you thinking that the second part was said with someone in mind. “But it’s more hectic than usual. We’ve just won a really big bid and Johnny’s excited about his first time leading one of the streams.” He paused to wave and give a thumbs-up at the man standing at the very front of the whiteboard group (you assumed this was Johnny), who returned the greetings with just as much enthusiasm. 

Jaehyun had always been a people person. That was one thing that would likely never change.

The two of you arrived at his desk, a quieter one next to the windows offering an almost unobstructed view of the city. He dug around his workspace, pulling out a Jo Malone gift bag. 

“Ignore the bag,” he said, catching your wary expression. “I didn’t want to stuff it in my duffel with the rest of my gym stuff.” 

You took it from his outstretched hand, with a quick glance to check that it was in fact your cardigan. The ribbed black fabric sat inside, folded neatly over itself. 

“It got rained on quite a bit, so I washed it. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course, that’s kind of you, Jaehyun. You didn’t have to.” For a moment, you wondered if he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. The smell of it used to cling to his school uniform, a burst of freshness you always sought during the muggy summer days.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a grateful smile. “I thought I lost it for good.” In your mind, you had already made peace with the fact that you would probably see the thing ever again. Yet all weekend, it had been taking up space in Jaehyun’s hamper, uncertain as to when it would finally be able to reunite with your closet.

You gave him a careful look. 

“Did you plan on seeing me today?” you asked. 

“No. Yes. I mean—” The tips of his ears took on the faintest hint of a pink flush. “I didn’t know if I would run into you, so I’m glad I did. But otherwise, I was just going to give it to Joy and get her to pass it along to you,” he trailed off, gaze shifting sideways to the cityscape posted on the other side of the glass windows. 

Neither of you had bothered with exchanging contact details after dinner, an oversight that was more deliberate than not on your part. His re-entry into your life was something you hadn’t felt quite ready for. And yet—

“Do you want my number?”

Stupid mouth. The words were out before you even registered that you had spoken. You prayed he wouldn’t pick up on the unintended suggestion of the question, though judging by the quick raise of his left eyebrow, you weren’t the only one who realised the other possible interpretations of your words. 

“I mean, just in case something like this happens again. So you can contact me directly,” you added quickly. Heat slowly crept its way up to your cheeks. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Sure,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “If that’s okay with you.” 

Considering you were the one who had said it out loud in the first place, it would have been strange if you suddenly decided it was not okay with you.

There was some fumbling with each other’s phones, before you were typing your number to add into his contacts, and he was doing the same to yours. Would he realise yours was still the same string of digits as it had been five years ago?

“Well, I’d better get going,” you said, handing back his phone. Now was as good a time to make an easy exit as any. You had planned on gossiping with Joy in the level seven kitchen for the rest of the hour, but back to your desk appeared to be the more likely destination this afternoon. 70-page files didn’t read themselves. “Thanks for the cardigan. I’ll see you later, then?”

Jaehyun looked like he had more to say, but you were already turning around, ready to leave the hubbub of the tenth floor. Ready to leave the presence of your ex-boyfriend-turned-friend? Acquaintance? You shook your head lightly. A drink was needed to unpack that box of worms.

A call of your name had you pausing mid-step.

“Your coffee,” Jaehyun said, tapping you on the shoulder to hand you your mug. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from his grasp. You hadn’t even bothered to take a sip of the non-Peruvian cappuccino, the surface still untouched. It was probably cold now. Maybe you’d pass it off to Jungwoo, this time sans the salt.

“You know, if the dinner bill thing bothers you that much, you can just make it up to me later.”

You blinked at him a few times. “Make it up to you how?”

“Ah, that’s for me to decide,” he replied, a boyish glint to his smiling eyes. Both his dimples popped out, and you found yourself unable to choose which one to focus on. 

Then he was moving, and you were left staring at the broad expanse of his back as he walked away. Head full of thoughts wondering what the hell kind of favour he would now hold over your head, you almost walked straight into Jungwoo as you came out of the elevator.

“Hey, I got a Nespresso from seven. You want it?” you asked, offering him the coffee you stopped yourself from spilling all over him. He eyed the mug apprehensively.

“You put salt in it again, didn’t you?”

“No? Where did you even get that from? Hang on, how do you know it was me?”

Jungwoo sucked in a breath through his teeth. “So it was you! I knew it! You know, you really are a scary woman,” he grumbled. “Who ever would have thought an evil spirit lurked behind such a kind face?”

“So that’s a no to the coffee?”

“I don’t trust you anymore, so no.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrugged, making your way back to your desk. The attendance reports stared back at you as you logged into the monitor, drawing a sigh out of you. You took a sip of the coffee.

And frowned.

You brought the mug to your mouth again. Like the first sip, the second was also lukewarm. But like the first sip, the second also tasted exactly the same as your usual Peruvian blend. Maybe there really was no difference between all the different coloured capsules, you thought, skimming through page 33 of the file.

That thing about realisation never being on time? Still true.

On the subway ride home, gripping the handle with all your might while sandwiched between two middle-aged men in stuffy suits, it dawned on you.

Jaehyun had given you his coffee instead.

“Thanks everyone for dialling in today. We’ll chat soon.”

The screen reverted back to its default background as the call ended, and you let out a sound somewhere in between a groan and a whimper. Junmyeon did not look to be faring any better, head in his hands while his elbows rested on the meeting room table.

“Can somebody please tell Jackson and the rest of the Marketing heads that Summer Fridays doesn’t mean they can just take Fridays completely off?” he groaned, the sounds escaping through the gaps in his fingers. “Our absenteeism looks like it’s at an all time high. Nayeon, you’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”

The girl pressed at her temples. “I mean, we were in the same advertising and PR club back in university, if that counts for anything. But yeah, I’ll schedule some time with him and go over it.”

“Great, thank you,” Junmyeon sighed, throwing his head back. “Alright, I’ll send around a debrief email later this afternoon. Thanks everyone for your time.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. A second later and you were out of the eighth floor Marketing meeting room, already on your way to the Nespresso machine downstairs. Another coffee at 4pm was slightly pushing it, but you needed a pick-me-up urgently to wash away the gruelling two hours spent going through company policy with Marketing.

The buzz of your phone was a momentary distraction from your mission. 

It was a message from Jaehyun. Something silly in response to a text you had sent earlier in the day. 

jaehyun [04:07 pm]: in dire need of a fake mango right now jaehyun [04:07 pm]: mmm fake mango milkshake

The smile that crept up onto your face was almost like a reflex in the way it couldn’t be helped.

Now that you were acquainted again, it was like you saw him everywhere. How you had managed to completely avoid each other for the last half a year or so was a fascinating mystery. Some mornings you’d run into him in the building lobby. He’d hold the elevator doors open for you, and you’d exchange pleasantries on the ride up to the fifth floor, where you’d get off and bid him goodbye, or see you later. And see him later you did. Whether it was at the seventh floor coffee machine, or in line at the cafeteria on twelve, the sight of his face had become a nice interruption to the hours spent at a monitor, or in a call like the one you had just escaped.

He would come down to the fifth floor sometimes, stopping by Joy’s desk or yours to say hello and have a chat if you weren’t busy. You found yourself wishing he would spend less time with Joy than he did with you — not because you wanted to see him more (because that was absolutely not the reason at all), but because he was steadily gaining a lead over you in the Joy friendship competition. The three of you had spent a few lunch breaks at the cafeteria together, granted that your schedules matched, with an odd appearance from Jungwoo every now and again.

You saw more of Johnny (loud) and Mark (louder), Jaehyun’s friends from Digital who you’d normally hear before you’d see them. Johnny was his “beloved coffee mate” (Jaehyun’s exact words) and possibly the only other person in the building who cared about the green Peruvian capsules as much as you did. Mark was… Mark, for lack of a better description. There was nobody the boy couldn’t strike a conversation with. If he really needed to, you suspected he could probably get along with a wet paper towel. 

You had been offered an invitation to join the three of them for one of their weekly lunches outside the company building. Johnny was more than happy to let you know he was somewhat of an expert at finding the hottest eats in the area, having put half his floor onto the cold noodle place he had sought out at the start of the month. And laugh as you had when he proudly told you about it, Johnny’s influence was no joke. News of the restaurant had somehow trickled its way down to HR, with Junmyeon just the other day asking around the team if anyone had tried the place before. 

Perhaps you’d join them next week. It was always nice to be ahead of the trend. 

You arrived at the seventh floor kitchen and sighed. The rack was out of green capsules again. Although, maybe that was to be expected. It was nearing the end of the day, and the gold capsules were finished too. So much for a 4pm pick-me-up, you thought, though it might have been for the better — too much caffeine in one day always made you a bit antsy and had your resting heart rate up in the high 80s. 

With empty hands and a pout on your lips, you made your way back to the fifth floor. 

Joy’s eyes were glued to her screen when you walked past her. “Jaehyun stopped by while you were in that Marketing call,” she said without looking at you, squinting at a spreadsheet. 

“Did he?” you replied, trying your best at nonchalance despite the little flip of your stomach. 

“Are you talking about her handsome friend from Digital?” Jungwoo peered around the table with a playful grin on his face. 

You were back on good terms now, thanks to your promise to pay for his lunch from the cafeteria for a whole week to make up for the coffee incident. The look in his eyes right now had you thinking life was better that week where he had been afraid of you.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Joy said distractedly in between clicks of her keyboard. “Jisung, can you just double check these numbers for me? I’m in the second tab of the Excel file.” 

The intern was quick to comply. You had a feeling she was his favourite senior. 

“Anyways, I think he left you something.”

You made your way over to your desk, ignoring Jungwoo’s oohs and ahs. Sure enough, there was something sitting next to your diary and the three empty glasses you hadn’t had the chance to rinse out yet.

It was a coffee capsule. Specifically, it was a green coffee capsule. 

There was a sticky note stuck to the back of it, which you turned around to read. His handwriting was still identical to that of the silly little notes he used to leave in the margins of your home economics workbook. 

saved this last one from johnny’s clutches. enjoy ^.^

Despite the jitters from the end-of-day caffeine fix, you smiled the whole way home.

“I’ve found a way you can make it up to me.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the screen. 9:34 am. The Saturday morning still had you in its clutches, and it took a few seconds to process the sounds you were hearing. 

“Who is this?” you croaked, sleep lacing your voice. 

“It’s Jaehyun.” 

You sat up a little straighter against the pillows. “Jaehyun?” you echoed. 

“Yes, it’s me. Do you not check the caller ID before you answer?”

You grumbled something about it being too early on the weekend to have your head screwed on properly, to which he laughed, a vivid sound even through the phone. 

“Do you have plans later today?”

You hesitated. Technically, no, unless a hot date with Netflix and whatever leftover snacks you could find in your pantry counted as plans. You were due for a grocery trip soon. The three eggs and single sprig of spring onion in your fridge would not last for long. Cooking had never been something you enjoyed, especially not after a full work day, and yet living alone required so much of it. You didn’t want to make up a non-existent dinner reservation, partly because you knew he’d be able to tell the untruth just by listening to your voice, and partly because something unpleasant niggled at your insides at the thought of lying just to avoid him.  

“Why, what’s up?” you asked instead.

“Well, you know that jazz festival?” You gave an affirmative hum. “I have tickets for today. Mark and I were supposed to go together, but he just called me saying he can’t make it. Something about a leak in his apartment from all the rain. So…”

You stifled a yawn. “So?” Your brain was still trying to catch up with the land of the awake and living. 

“Come with me?”

The words took a while and a few blinks to register. When they did, your first instinct was to say no. Jaehyun was fine in small doses. A quick chat over coffee, sporadic texts throughout the day, conversation within the safety of a group setting — these were all fine. Manageable. Nice, even. But Jaehyun in the flesh, outside of the office, with nobody else around to buffer the strange sort of tension that seemed to always thrum between the two of you — that was an entirely different ball game altogether. Sometimes, a mere run-in was enough to have your heart going a little faster than usual, nerves lighting up at the unexpected sight of his face. 

“I am not above begging. Please don’t make me go to this thing by myself.”

And yet, there was a flicker of something pleasant and sweet, something akin to excitement that curbed the nervous flutter in your gut. You were fifteen again, waiting outside the movie theatre, a little too giddy at the thought of spending time with the boy whose sweet smile had become the cause of your stomach somersaults. And that was before you had even admitted to yourself that you liked him, as more than a friend. 

“What time is it?” you found yourself asking.

So maybe you were seriously considering it. You had been meaning to put that new film camera to use. The thing had been collecting dust in one of your drawers ever since you bought it on a whim one night scrolling through Pinterest. Somehow, the rows of tables and monitors in the office didn’t seem like the most interesting camera subjects compared to the scenes of concerts and beach bonfires that had driven your impulsive purchase. 

“Well, the doors open at 11, but the first performer is at 12. And Lauv’s set isn’t until later in the evening.”

“Lauv is performing?” Your voice had gone up almost an octave, but you couldn’t care enough to be embarrassed. This was a crucial piece of information. Now you had to be there. 

He laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s a yes.” The covers were flipped off your legs in an instant.

It wasn’t that Jaehyun looked bad in slacks and a dress shirt. That was not the case at all. But you had grown used to them on him over the last few weeks, and the sight of his long legs in a pair of well-fitting trousers no longer caused a spike in your heart rate. 

Jaehyun in casual clothes outside the office was uncharted territory. 

The midday sun was strong outside the subway station. Clad in a black graphic tee over a pair of baggy green cargos, Jaehyun stood idly at the entrance, face hidden by the brown baseball cap on his head and eyes trained on his phone. How someone could look so gorgeous in something so ordinary was a secret only he knew the truth of. He caught sight of you from across the road, waiting for the pedestrian light, and raised his hand in a wave. 

“It’s different seeing you out of your work clothes,” he said. 

“Different good or different bad?”

A soft smile grazed his lips. “Just different. You look younger.”

“So do you,” you replied. 

You look like the boy I was in love with all those years ago. 

“Did you taxi?”

“No, I took the bus. There’s one that goes straight from my building. I didn’t know you lived around here,” you mused to yourself.

“My place is really close.” He pointed somewhere behind him. “Five minutes that way, tops. You should come over sometime.”

A slight pause. Jaehyun’s eyes flitted down to the pavement. You weren’t sure if the heat in your cheeks was from the sun or something else entirely. 

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably go. It takes 40 minutes to get there, so if we leave now we should be able to catch the 1pm.”

The subway on the weekend was nowhere near as awful as it usually was during the weekday rush hours, but packed nonetheless. You definitely preferred being stuck in a carriage full of bright-eyed and chattering teenagers than the usual crowd of solemn-faced office workers. When a seat finally freed up, Jaehyun was quick to offer it to you, manoeuvring himself so that he could stand in front of you as you sat down. Toe to toe, the tips of his shoes grazed yours, and you were suddenly reminded of study periods at the library. The two of you could never agree on who first started the game of footsie under the desk.

“See those girls over there?” you asked quietly, nodding towards a group of likely high schoolers down the other end of the carriage. Jaehyun turned his head to follow your gaze, catching sight of the girls who immediately erupted in whispers and giggles upon making eye contact with him. “They’ve been staring at you for the last two stops.”

He was quick to turn back towards you, nose scrunching and slightly embarrassed. “Kids these days are so weird,” he said with a soft groan. “Why are they doing that?”

“You know they’re only staring because you’re handsome.” 

Despite the pinkness of his ears, he was smiling wide. “You think I’m handsome?”

You blinked up at him. “I didn’t say that.” Did I? “I meant they probably think you’re handsome. Which is why they’re staring. You know. It’s nice to look at good-looking people.” 

The rushed explanations did nothing to shake the feeling that you had slipped-up somehow, and he had caught it. Jaehyun’s dimples only deepened at your backtracking.

“You know what I mean,” you finally huffed, biting back a smile at the deep sound of his responding laugh. “Whatever. I think this is our stop.”

The festival couldn’t have picked a better day to be held. The skies were clear and blue, and the air carried a light breeze that provided a welcome relief from the heavy stickiness of midsummer. It was a nice change from the sporadic rainstorms that had plagued the city over the last two weeks or so. Mark’s leaking apartment was proof of the temperamental weather. If you had one bone to pick, the sun was a tad strong, but that was to be expected. You had come prepared, tugging the bucket hat down further to cover your face. 

Alaina Castillo’s set was well underway by the time you and Jaehyun made your way into the venue grounds. A decent amount of people had already arrived, trickling in to fill up the gated area in front of the main stage. The two of you filed in with the rest, finding a place towards the back of the growing crowd where there was ample room to breathe without inhaling someone else’s breath. 

You had never been one for being stuck in a swarm of people. A harsh reminder of why that was the case appeared when, out of nowhere, a stranger’s elbow dug into your arm, knocking you sideways in their determined path towards the barricade. 

The steadying hand around your shoulder was instantaneous. 

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked, and you mumbled something affirmative in reply, trying not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin on your bare arm. His eyes followed the stranger who was still pushing on through the crowd in front. “People really need to watch where they’re going,” he muttered, brows drawn together in a frown.

The rest of the afternoon proceeded more smoothly. It was a little unsettling how normal and nice everything felt. Jaehyun kept close to you for the sets that followed, the distance between the two of you gradually shrinking as the crowd grew in size. The occasional brush of your forearms as you moved to the music was no longer something to jump at like you had the first time it had happened. You managed to snap a few pictures on your almost-new film camera, mostly of the artist performing, but there was one of you in there somewhere amidst the stage shots, taken by an insistent and smiley Jaehyun during one of the set breaks. 

“So this is why you wanted someone to come with you,” you said, sliding onto the bench and passing him one of the burgers from the food truck.

“It’s so much more efficient when you can line up for two things at once. If I was by myself, I’d either wait for the beer and let my burger get soggy, or wait for the burger and let my beer get warm and flat. This way the food is fresh, and our drinks are ice cold out of the fridge.”

You cracked a smile. “And here I thought you called me because you enjoyed my company.”

“I do enjoy your company,” he said without missing a beat. “The other stuff is just an added plus.”

You took a sip of the cold beer, hoping it would stave off the quick flush of your cheeks. Jaehyun said things so easily. Too easily. It was harder and harder to adhere to that invisible boundary you had been so adamant on protecting. 

Why were you so reluctant to let him back in? Why all the walls? He made it too easy for thoughts like that to creep in and loiter in the back of your mind. 

Evening had begun to settle, the brightness of the midday sky fading away to a twinkling twilight blue over your heads. The music was quieter at the picnic tables by the tents, where festival-goers sought respite from the main stage crowds with a cold beverage and something greasy. Between mouthfuls of an early makeshift dinner, you and Jaehyun sat in your own bubble, comfortably falling into conversation about the performances throughout the day, or whatever else happened to be on your minds.  

“Your mouth opens so wide,” you said, watching as he all but inhaled half the burger in one go. His nose scrunched up as he tried to take the massive bite, and the sight of it was such a far cry from his usual cool guy image that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to snap a picture of it. The click of the shutter had him looking up at you mid-chew with a dismayed expression.

“That’s not fair. You attacked when I wasn’t ready!”

“I’d hardly call that an attack,” you said, not without a smile. “I was just getting a candid.”

He wiped his fingers on the napkin. “Okay, my turn then,” he said, gesturing for you to hand the camera over. You obliged, letting him point the lens at you and fiddle with the knobs along the top. His slender fingers navigated the controls with a practised ease.

“Relax,” he added softly, noticing your fidgeting. Twenty-something years, and you had made little progress in mastering the art of posing for photos. “Pretend the camera’s not here, and it’s just you and me.”

Right. Like that was supposed to make you loosen up.

“I actually used to be really into photography. Got pretty good at it too,” he said.

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“Picked it up in uni,” he explained. “Had all this free time on my hands and didn’t know what to do with it. Besides drinking.” A pause. “Honestly, first year second semester was pretty rough after… you know.”

The last part caught you somewhat off-guard. After that fateful April night, you had always assumed Jaehyun was off living his best life, blowing through society events with the new friends he had made, maybe even letting a few of them warm his bed now that you weren’t around. It wouldn’t have been the biggest surprise. Even at nineteen, Jaehyun’s good looks were uncontested. His sweet and attentive personality was the cherry on top of an already delectable cake. Whatever he got up to when the sun set, you were none the wiser, having completely wiped his existence from your phone by the time your first semester exam period rolled around. 

Though you didn’t go as far as to block his number, he never reached out, and so Jeong Jaehyun became a relic of the past, embracing his newfound freedom now that he had shed himself of you, his unwanted baggage.

Or so you thought.

“But yeah,” he continued, “I started getting into photography. Burnt a hole in my wallet trying out a bunch of different cameras,” he said with a chuckle. “I liked film the most though, I think. It’s the only one I still use now.” 

“What do you like about it?”

He took a moment, pausing in thought. “The colours, mostly. How it’s a bit muted, it has that vintage feeling.” You hummed in agreement. “Selfies on a film camera are fun as well.”

“You must really like looking at yourself,” you teased, enjoying the sight of his ears flushing with colour from where they poked out above the camera.

“Not like that,” he said in reply to the raise of your eyebrows. “It’s more like… when you take a selfie on film, you can’t see yourself, right? Whether the focus is focusing, or if the angle is right.

“Or if your whole face is actually in the shot, not just your right eye.”

“Exactly. But then taking the picture anyway. That’s what I like.” He pulled away from the camera to flash you a small smile. “Isn’t it funny, the way we try so hard to capture moments of time?”

Jaehyun’s attention returned to the viewfinder, leaving you to quietly dwell on his words. How else could one keep a piece of time stored away if not through photos? And yet, photography would never be able to capture the entirety of a moment the way a memory could. The sound of the band’s bass guitar from the side stage in the adjacent garden. The smell of summer carried by the evening breeze as it ruffled through his hair.

The warm feeling in your chest as you sat across from him at this wooden picnic bench, surrounded by people, sharing wistful conversation and a basket of fries. 

The feeling of coming home.

The shutter clicked.

“Got it. That last one is going to turn out so nice.” Jaehyun smiled triumphantly, cheeks dimpling. “If you make this your profile picture you have to add the ‘photo by’. I need my credits.”

You blinked away the precarious thoughts. “Alright, mister photographer man, give it back now. Don’t use up all my film before Lauv.”

He handed the camera back to you, looking very pleased with himself. The light from the nearby tents cast a dusky glow over his face. Jaehyun from Digital was sharp and polished. The Jaehyun before you now, with his hair dishevelled from taking off the cap earlier, was softer, more open, and more subtle in the way he had slipped under your defences and picked the locks chained around your heart. 

The question now was whether you’d let him in further than you already had.

He tugged at his collar. “God, it’s still muggy at night, isn’t it?” 

“You stay here, I’ll get us some more beers,” you said, already standing up.

If anything, you were grateful for the errand, a welcome distraction from the tumultuous battle between your heart and your head that always forged on at any thought of him. The line for the bar was no shorter than it had been half an hour ago, to nobody’s surprise (this was a festival in Seoul, of course the queues would be severe) and it was a while before the two cold plastic cups were in your hands. 

The short time away from him had given you the space to steer your mindset back onto the charted platonic course. A little voice in the back of your mind objected, and was making a damn convincing argument about why you should be more inclined to go beyond plain friendship with Jaehyun, but you chose to ignore it, suppressing the nagging with a deep breath and a smile that you hoped looked less conflicted than how you felt. Beers in hand, you carefully made your way back to the picnic table — only to be met with a rather interesting sight.

Jaehyun was still where you had left him, thankfully. But the two girls that now stood around him were a new addition. 

“Hey,” you greeted, tapping him on the shoulder to pass him one of the beers. The taller girl visibly deflated when he flashed you a grateful smile, taking the plastic cup from your hand. The shorter one, however, ran her eyes up and down your figure with an almost calculating gaze.

“Is this your friend?” the shorter one asked, question directed at Jaehyun.

“Uh, yeah, um—hi,” you answered very eloquently, introducing yourself. You tossed a glance between Jaehyun and the two girls. “Do you um—are you guys friends?”

“Well, no, not really. Minjeong and Jimin just came—”

“We were actually going to ask if you guys wanted to join us up closer to the main stage?” the shorter one (Minjeong perhaps?) asked, flashing a sweet smile you suspected was more for Jaehyun’s benefit than yours. “We have a blanket and a few chairs set up, so you can sit and watch the closing set. It’s much more comfortable than standing inside the barricade.”

“Jaehyun looked a little lonely by himself,” the taller one added.

Lonely because you left him for ten minutes to go get some cold drinks? These girls were unbelievable.

“What do you say? Want to join us?”

Maybe you should’ve taken the group of highschoolers on the subway earlier more seriously as a forewarning. Not that you had any say in what Jaehyun could and could not do — he was his own person, and the closest thing you had to a claim on him had disintegrated years ago. If he wanted to go hang out with pretty strangers, he could go and do exactly that, and you didn’t have to follow him either. The invitation had clearly been meant for him more than it had been for you.

So what if you had been looking forward to enjoying the last set together? You were a big girl. You could brave the main stage crowds by yourself if you had to.

Jaehyun glanced at you, searching your eyes while you tried your best to keep your face neutral and devoid of the uneasy thoughts bubbling away beneath your skin. He was his own person. He could make his own choices. 

After a second or two, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and turned back to the two expectant girls with a polite smile. “We’ll take our chances with the pit,” he answered. “But thank you for the offer. That’s kind of you guys.”

The two girls made their exit shortly afterwards, but not without a final look at him, and a decidedly less enthusiastic one at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the two of you sipping on your beers without a word, waiting for the other to speak.

“You could have gone with them if you wanted to,” you finally mumbled, eyes fixed on the contents of your cup.

To your surprise, Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m pretty sure Minjeong had an engagement ring on her finger.”

“Oh, what?” 

You definitely had not noticed, too occupied by the saccharine looks she was throwing his way.

“Yeah. It was a pretty big diamond too. I think she must have forgotten to take it off today.”

You turned to look at him then. Jaehyun already had his eyes on you, sporting a lazy grin. “Come on, you can’t think I’m the type to mess around with married women?”

“That’s not what I—I didn’t know—”

“Don’t worry,” he interjected. “You’re still cute when you’re jealous.”

The quick heat rising to your face dispelled any of the remaining nonchalance in your expression. “I wasn’t—I’m not jealous,” you spluttered. “I was just worried—I mean, not worried,” you paused, sighing. “I thought you’d leave me.”

His eyes sought out yours, keeping them captive once they grabbed a hold. 

“I wouldn’t leave you.”

The teasing brevity to his voice had disappeared. Somehow, you had the feeling he wasn’t simply talking about the jazz festival. The sincerity in his gaze made it hard to look away, but you had to, in the name of self preservation. Too long staring into those brown eyes was an unnecessary test of the upper limits of your heart rate. 

“Maybe she came with her husband. He could be up there on that picnic mat, waiting for her.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “Trust me, if her husband was here, she would not have been looking at me like that.”

To their credit though, finding a spot to watch the main stage proved to be rather difficult now that everyone had arrived to catch the final act. For a moment you considered leaving the pit to take the two girls up on their offer. But with Jaehyun by your side, you were able to navigate the crowds with a bit more peace of mind, his presence a solid and comforting anchor within the sea of people. A few rogue pushes here and there had you stumbling — and perhaps the two beers on a rather empty stomach were coming on faster than you had expected — but he was there, steadying you with a gentle hand around your arm, or the light press of his firm chest against your back.

And maybe you leaned into him for longer than necessary to regain your balance, but was that really a crime? To enjoy the touch of a friend? Was it a crime for warmth to pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him swaying along to Lauv’s Enemies?

No, the little voice in your head denied forcefully. Jaehyun grooving to the music had always been one of your weaknesses. 

As the closing chords of Paris in the Rain sounded out across the venue, you pulled out your film camera.

“Walking down an empty street.”

A gentle nudge of Jaehyun’s shoulder had him turning towards you, nose scrunched in a happy half-laugh from watching the performance. You moved to face the back of the crowd and raised the camera high, pointing it towards the two of you. 

Was the stage in the shot? Was Lauv? 

Were you?

“Puddles underneath our feet.”

Call it courage, or liquid courage, or just plain recklessness on your part. Rising up on your tiptoes, you pressed your cheek to his, and clicked the shutter button. 

The final chord of the song struck, softly, like an afterthought, and the crowd burst into appreciative hoots and applause, marking the end of the performance.

You were beaming as you turned back towards him. “Do you think I got that one?”

Jaehyun simply stared at you, lips parted and turned up slightly at the corners. He looked more caught off-guard than he had when you had told him you thought all the Cigarettes After Sex songs sounded the same. You felt the glowing smile on your face slip, little by little, as you let his eyes roam your features, gaze indecipherable. They flitted to your lips, and for a second you were sure you stopped breathing.

Just do it! Just fucking do it! screamed that little voice in the back of your mind.

And perhaps you would’ve done it too, whatever it was, if it weren’t for the shove from behind that sent you almost face-planting into his chest.

“What the hell?” you yelped, whipping your head around. 

What was with the people here today? You never thought jazz lovers could be so aggressive and insensitive to others’ personal space. Trying to find the perpetrator was a futile task, since the crowd had started to disperse following the end of the performance, moving in all directions.

Jaehyun looked over you with concern, the earlier expression on his face now gone. 

“Come on,” he finally said, fingers gently circling around your wrist. “Let’s get out of here before we get trampled by the crowd.”

Overhead, the blue-black sky that had been so cooperative for the whole day emitted a low rumble, as if to emphasise Jaehyun’s words. Sure enough, by the time the two of you arrived at the station, it had started to sprinkle. Perhaps the clouds had been holding back the rain until the very end of the festival. How considerate of them, you thought.

The ride back into the city felt shorter than the one to the venue, though it couldn’t have been. Saturday nights were even busier than the weekday rush hour, with people young and old out and about, ready to tame the weekend with sheer determination and a bottle of soju in the stomach. This time, there were no free seats in your carriage, but you didn’t mind. Standing with Jaehyun, your heads pressed together to go through the videos in his camera roll, made the time pass faster. There was something to his photos, you decided. Something in the angle, or the light, or the composition, that made them look nicer than the ones on your phone. Maybe you ought to take a photography course too.

The clouds may have been considerate enough for the festival to hold off dumping their contents during the day, but they certainly were not for the two of you tonight. Standing under cover at the subway station exit, you watched as the torrential deluge only seemed to worsen. Thunder cracked angrily through the air. It wasn’t July without the threat of flash flooding. 

“Any drivers around?” Jaehyun asked.

You gave a sad shake of your head. “Nobody’s picking up my request. Must be because of the rain,” you muttered. Overhead, the sky split open with a strike of lightning, startling you, and you jumped back a bit, further into the covered area of the exit.

“How about the bus?”

“I think I just missed one,” you answered, checking the timetable on your phone. “It says the next isn’t for another twenty minutes. But with the rain, it might be delayed even longer.”

You flicked through the taxi app, then the bus timetable app, and then finally back to the weather app, which you always seemed to forget to check on days like this. Three consecutive 100% signs stared back at you, and you let out a sigh. The sky would not be clearing up anytime soon.

“My apartment is only two streets down, if you want somewhere to wait out the rain,” he said.

You looked up at him. The smile on his face was guileless, but at the same time, there was something guarded about it, like he was expecting your rejection. Perhaps you had studied his face for too long, because then he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and averting his eyes to the ground.

“Or you don’t have to, we could just—”

“Okay,” you said.

His head shot back up. “Okay?”

You shrugged, a smile finding its way to your lips. “I’d rather not be soaking wet on the bus.”

“Okay,” he repeated, corners of his mouth turning upwards to mirror yours. “To my place, then.”

The usual five minute walk to Jaehyun’s apartment from the subway station turned into a two-and-a-half minute mad dash under the downpour. Despite your attempts at keeping to storefront shelters and ducking under the cover of big trees, the short trip had ended up with the both of you drenched to the bone, teeth chattering as you dripped rainwater all over his lobby.

You said a silent apology to the building cleaners. 

It was a relief to be dry again. Jaehyun’s sweats swamped you, the French terry fabric pooling around your feet as you sat on the couch in his living room. The top was no better, reaching almost to your knees, with the sleeves completely covering your fingertips. His clothes weren’t always this big on you. At least he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. 

The sound of the running shower blended smoothly with the raindrops pelting violently against the balcony window. You wrung your hands, unsure of what to do while you waited for him to come out of the bathroom. It was easy to feel out of place in a home foreign to you. The sleek furniture and minimalist colour palette of the apartment looked nothing like Jaehyun’s childhood bedroom. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to come to his place. While you were pretty sure he hadn’t invited you up with any ulterior motives in mind, there was still something ambiguous about being in your ex-boyfriend’s home and wearing his clothes. And only his clothes. 

You would have liked to keep your undergarments on, but they had also been soaked through. Going bare in these too-big sweats had seemed the less questionable option, compared to sitting with a wet patch around your butt and crotch. Heat flooded your face as you thought about your underwear and bra hanging on the heated towel rack in the bathroom. 

Whatever. It wasn’t like they were things he’d never seen before. And as for his clothes, of course you’d wash them before giving them back to him. 

It was then that you decided that you had enough of sitting around in a puddle of fabric and your own thoughts. Jaehyun’s living room wasn’t all that big, even if it felt roomier than your own, with enough space to fit a decently-sized couch and small coffee table. The tv on the far wall sat atop a rather large entertainment unit that, upon further inspection, also housed a record player and an impressive collection of vinyls. 

You padded over, eyes flicking through the various titles printed on the covers. One of them had been taken out from the shelf and sat splayed on top of the cabinet. Maybe he had meant to play it, or just forgotten to put it away. Slowly, you let a finger trace around the edge of the jacket and over the black lettering of the title. You’d recognise that white album cover anywhere.

Only you knew how much effort it had taken to source the thing, scouring auction sites and dodgy online stores until you finally bit the bullet and ordered it from a reasonable-looking seller with a 4.7 star rating. But it had all been worth it. The unadulterated joy on Jaehyun’s face as he undid the wrapping paper to reveal Frank Ocean’s Blonde was not something you could easily forget. Later, you found out that it had probably been a bootleg, since the official Blonde vinyls were a limited release, but he had hardly batted an eye when you broke the news.

“Still my favourite birthday present that anyone’s gotten me,” Jaehyun said. 

Dressed in a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants, he leant against the bathroom door, surveying you with an easy smile. You must not have heard the shower turn off, the noise drowned out by the storm raging outside. His hair, still damp from the shower, hung over his eyes, and you watched as he brushed it back with his right hand, arm flexing with the movement.

The sudden flare in your lower belly was something you’d rather not feel, alone in these four walls with him, with nobody else around to witness or put a stop to whatever might follow. You’d like to think self control was something you had a firm grip on, but it seemed Jaehyun was made to put you to the test.

“Actually think it might be my favourite present ever,” he added, pushing off the door frame. He reached you in a few strides, maintaining a polite distance between your bodies.

“I didn’t even realise you still had this,” you murmured, letting him take the record from your hands. You tried not to flinch at the brush of his fingers against yours. “You didn’t even have one of these back then,” you said, lightly tapping the case of the record player.

“I changed my mind, actually. The turntable is my favourite present.”

An unfamiliar twinge of dread zipped through you. “Who gave it to you?” 

Could it be an ex-lover’s gift sitting on display in his living room? That did not sit nicely in your stomach.

“Myself.” 

He was holding back a laugh, eyes squeezed into crescent moons and too busy appreciating his own joke to catch the quick roll of your eyes. Instantly, your chest felt a little lighter, and the dread vanished as quickly as it had come on.

“Here, let me put it on,” he said, shuffling over towards you to lift up the case on the record player. With gentle fingers and a delicateness you didn’t see often, he unsleeved the record and carefully placed it on the turntable. A few fiddles with the side knobs and a precise adjustment of the needle arm later, the opening bars of Frank Ocean’s Pink and White filled the air of his living room.

For a minute, there were no words exchanged, the two of you simply content to enjoy the music as it filtered through the speakers. There was a quiet smile on Jaehyun’s face. You wondered if he, like you, was thinking of the last time you had listened to this album together.

The image of the two of you, sprawled out on his bed, sharing a pair of wired earphones, was hard to shake. It had been early evening, or nearly twilight. Sometime before sunset. The reflection on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom had changed along with the sky, until the only light left in the room was the dim blue glow from the laptop on his desk. At his mother’s call for dinner, he had gently shaken you awake, fingers light on your shoulder and against your cheek. 

Jaehyun was undoubtedly handsome in the light. But there was something about dusk and the softness of the shadows on his face that made him all the more compelling. You usually weren’t one to initiate, so the kiss you pressed to his mouth in the barely-lit room had surprised you both. 

Even now, the thought strangely sent a flood of heat to your cheeks.

“Sorry, did you want something to eat? I haven’t been a very good host.”

The grumble of your stomach answered before you could. You bit back an embarrassed smile, but Jaehyun was not so frugal with his amusement, letting out a short chuckle. Your feet followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. Perched on the marble countertop, you watched as he rummaged through the fridge.

“I have eggs, yesterday’s leftovers, and a shit ton of beer cans,” he announced. 

You exchanged a glance.

“Let’s do ramen, actually. That sounds better.” He bent down to dig through the pantry, pulling out two red packets, before moving back to the fridge and getting two eggs. “I can crack these in too, and—why are you looking at me like that?”

It was your turn to laugh, the wide grin on your face a contrast to the cautious smile on his.

“Are we having ramen?”

His brow creased a little. “I thought you liked ramen?” The innocent tilt of his head made him all the more endearing to look at.

“I do, but… did you really invite me back to your place… to have ramen?”

It took a few seconds for the ball to drop. You held back giggles as his ears flushed hotly, as they always seemed to do on the occasions you decided to indulge yourself and tease him.

“Come on, that’s not—you’re doing it on purpose,” he said, bottom lip jutting out with the suggestion of a pout. Despite his grumbles, the shape of his mouth slowly settled into a defeated smile at your visible glee of having flustered him. 

Jaehyun, soft-spoken and easy-going, was not the type to be easily ruffled. You excelled and enjoyed the challenge of it more than most.

“No,�� he said once your laughter had somewhat subsided, voice low and velvety. “But I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

The silence that followed was a loud one. It was hard to ignore the way your mouth dried up at his words. Something warm and tingly spread from your stomach all the way down to your toes as you stood there under his level gaze, eyes drawn to his like magnets. He had to know. The effect his words had on you were surely plastered all over your face, obvious in the tight grip of your fingers against the countertop and the shortening of your breaths.

Jaehyun leaned in a little closer and you felt the inhale stick in the back of your throat. Then he cracked a crooked smile, pretty teeth all on display. 

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

He moved away then, busying himself with pouring water into a pot and bringing it to a boil while you tried to blink yourself out of the daze. “Ramen okay?” he asked over his shoulder.

You cleared your dry throat, somehow finding your voice again. “Ramen is fine. Thank you,” you added after a beat. You took a deep breath, waiting for the rush of blood to drain from your face. 

Something sour settled in your chest — something akin to disappointment, though surely it couldn’t be. Disappointed that what? Jaehyun wasn’t actually sexually attracted to you? When you were obviously still attracted to him, despite all your attempts at convincing yourself you weren’t?

You scoffed to yourself. As if.

A quick shake of your head was almost enough to clear your mind, save for the remnants of that sour feeling that lingered. You asked if there was anything you could do to help, not wanting to simply sit around on your thumbs and wait to be fed. He had insisted you do exactly that, warning you there was only enough space in the kitchen for one, and assuring that there was nothing he needed from you besides patience and faith in his cooking. 

Patience you could give him. Faith was a little harder to muster, given your memories of the kitchen disaster from when he had tried to make okonomiyaki. 

The questionable, half-burnt half-uncooked taste was one thing. You finding random pieces of cabbage on the tiled floor for days afterwards was another thing entirely.

However, it seemed Jaehyun had improved from his old ways. The steaming pot he brought over to the coffee table not only smelled delicious, but looked the part too. You helped carry over the small bowls and chopsticks, along with two cans of beer, despite his requests for you to just sit and be ready to eat.

You took the first bite, blowing on the noodles to cool them down before slurping them into your mouth. All the while, he watched you, an expectant expression painting his face. 

“Wow. You’ve grown up, Jeong Jaehyun. Who would’ve guessed you’d become such a whiz in the kitchen?” 

He smiled, a bashful one at your compliment. “Being able to cook ramen is nothing impressive,” he said, digging in with his own chopsticks.

“There was no way you could have made this for me when we were 17. Look at this egg!” The centre was perfectly soft, not too runny, but not rock hard either. Just the way you liked them. 

You took another mouthful. “You’re a changed man,” you said. “Honestly, your place is a lot cleaner than I expected it to be.”

“That’s what living with four other guys will do to you. I had to learn how to clean out of pure survival,” he chuckled. 

“Was it really that bad?”

He grimaced. “You should’ve seen my dorm room. Basically a biological hazard.”

“They didn’t let non-students into the building. Your building RA was crazy scary, remember?” Even now you could remember the perpetual scowl of the law major when Jaehyun brought you into the dorm lobby.

“It was probably for the best. You would’ve broken up with me on the spot the second you walked through the door.”

You shared a laugh. Strangely, jokes about your break-up were light-hearted in their landing, the words leaving much less of a prickly uncomfortableness than you had been expecting. Perhaps it was still an event of importance in your life, but that cloudy unpleasantness you had come to associate it with had dissipated. It was a turning point, certainly. But so was graduation, and moving out, and travelling overseas for the first time. 

Your feelings about those things weren’t all bad. As you shared the pot of ramen and sipped on your beers, you realised, neither were your feelings about Jaehyun.

“I’m telling you, I was drinking Taeyong under the table. And I do mean that literally. He was passed out and laid across the stools.” He grinned, proud at the memory of beating his senior even five years later. You couldn’t help but grin too, amused by the sincerity of his expression and the way his shoulders set in accomplishment.

“Okay, okay. So now you’re a better drinker, you’ve gotten good at cooking, and you’re cleaner too.”

“And funnier,” he added.

“That one is still up for debate,” you joked, and his eyebrows furrowed together in mock offence. Digs at his sense of humour were not taken lightly. 

“Just because you don’t get my high quality gags,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re missing out.”

You nodded, making a noise of agreement if only to appease him. 

“What about me? How am I different?” you asked, voice curious. 

Jaehyun didn’t miss a beat. “Hmm, I think you got older?”

“Come on, I’m being serious!”

His laughter subdued then, surveying you thoughtfully. A quiet smile tugged at his lips when he spoke again. 

“You’re more outspoken than you used to be.” He paused, taking a sip from his can while trying to find the right words, all the while keeping his eyes on you. “You prioritise yourself more. And you’re more sure of who you are. You shine brighter, I think.”

Strange, how a person’s gaze could strip you down and make you feel so naked. There was nothing but earnestness in his eyes, plain and absolute, and the intensity of it was almost too much for you to bear. After all your time apart, Jaehyun could still see you, and see through you. 

I think you still know me inside out, and that scares me, you wanted to tell him.

Instead, you looked away first, tearing your eyes away from his with considerable effort. The pot of ramen on the coffee table, lukewarm now, was almost finished. The music had also stopped playing a while ago. Neither you or Jaehyun had bothered to get up and flip the vinyl to the other side, too busy eating. All that was left was the rain, and even that had faded to a soft pattering against the glass, following its own rhythm. 

Hastily, you stuffed a piece of kimchi into your mouth, for lack of anything better to do. The crunch of it in your mouth was loud, and you fought back a cringe.

“Did your mother make this?” you asked, hoping your attempt at diverting the conversation wasn’t so obvious.

If Jaehyun noticed, he didn’t show it, only nodding in confirmation. 

“She dropped some off last month,” he replied. “Remember how you told me her’s was better than your own mother’s?”

You let out a scandalised gasp. “As if I would ever say such a thing! Don’t let my mother ever hear something so blasphemous about her favourite daughter.”

“You’re her only daughter.”

“And you care too much about technicalities. Just because I’m the only one doesn’t mean I can’t still be the favourite.”

The crisp crunch of another piece of kimchi punctuated the end of your sentence. There was certainly something different about Mama Jeong’s recipes. If there was one thing you missed besides Jaehyun himself, it would have been his mother’s cooking. The woman knew her way around a stovetop better than a Michelin chef, at least in your eyes. 

You thought of her warm smile, and her even warmer embrace. Jaehyun had inherited many things from her, kindness being the greatest of them. Back then, she had been so sure of your future place in their family, welcoming you into her home as if you were her own daughter. You wondered where she stood on that now.

Still clinging onto that idea, perhaps, or were her sights now set on someone else?

“You’ve got something…”  Jaehyun murmured.

He reached across the table, over the pot and the small bowls, the movement quick and almost instinctive. Soft fingers found purchase on your left cheek. His thumb was gentle as it brushed away the stray chilli flake from the corner of your mouth.

Just the lightest touch against your bottom lip. And the warmth of his hand cradling your face.

Then he froze, as if to catch himself, but the damage was already done.

Jaehyun pulled his hand back with a start, an inscrutable expression across his face. He spilled a quick apology that you smiled away, putting on a composed front. At least, you assumed it was an apology. It was hard to hear anything above the buzzing chaos of your mind. The air filled with idle noise as the two of you shuffled in your seats.

“I should um—I should probably get going,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. The meal had long been finished. Your hands were already beginning to gather up the bowls and utensils into a stack for easy carrying. 

Jaehyun hummed, something akin to resignation in the noise. “Yeah, uh… I guess so.”

“Let me help you clean up first, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Despite his protests against you assisting with any kind of housework, there you were at the sink, helping him scrub everything nice and clean within the small space of his kitchen. Maybe he was right about there only being enough space for one person behind the counter. The aluminium beer cans went into their designated bins, and you made sure to wipe down the coffee table too.

This time, your half-damp, half-dried clothes found their way into a Byredo shopping bag — Jaehyun would rather die than not smell good — though your shoes still squelched rather uncomfortably when you slipped your bare feet in. By luck, you were able to book a taxi and could pass on the wet walk to the bus stop.

You thanked him again for bringing you along, noting that you probably got more out of the alleged ‘favour’ than he did. 

“Trust me, going with you made the whole thing so much better,” he said, both cheeks dimpling in your favourite smile of his. “And let me know if you need to get the film on your camera developed. I know a place.”

The ride home was flavoured by a sudden loneliness. Maybe it was the view of the city at night, or the absence of people out on the rainy streets, that had an empty feeling settle in your chest. 

Perhaps you should have delayed leaving his apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have left at all, and instead weathered the night away with Jaehyun on the couch, some slasher flick playing on the television while you shook under the blankets and tried not to scream at the jumpscares, like you used to. You never did understand why he liked horror films as much as he did.

Perhaps he’d slot his fingers between your own and give them a reassuring squeeze, and gaze at you with the kind of amused fondness he only ever reserved for you.

Heat flooded your face. As if you were entertaining the thought of spending the night at your ex-boyfriend’s place. And getting butterflies at the thought of holding hands? 

How embarrassing.

One thing was for certain. The walls you had put up were cracking, and there seemed to be little hope of patching them up.

“Will you stop messing with that thing?”

Jungwoo clicked his tongue against his teeth, fingers still fiddling with the ribbon on the gift bag. 

“It’s not straight,” he grumbled, pulling at the bow.

“You’re so pedantic.”

“It’s called being detail-oriented,” he fired back, leaning against the backseat of the taxi with a sigh.

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I’m not.”

“Well,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. His mouth formed the shape of a smirk. 

You flicked a glance towards the rearview mirror, checking to see if the driver was paying attention to the two of you in the back. After verifying he was not, you landed a few (soft…ish) punches on Jungwoo’s upper arm, revelling in the shocked little noises he made, along with a few mumbles of ‘that actually hurts’ and ‘crazy woman’. 

How nice it was to let your hands fly without the threat of some other fifth floor witness reporting you for physical harassment. 

“I’m telling Joy the present is entirely from me,” you warned, turning around to face the front again.

“Right, except the card inside says my name too. So that’s not going to work.”

You reached into the gift bag, pulling out said card before rolling down the window. “Let me just throw this out.”

It was Jungwoo’s turn to deliver a light smack to your wrist. You dropped the envelope back in the bag, not without tossing an eye-roll his way. He knew just as well as you did that there was no real substance behind the threats — banter with Jungwoo was more for amusement than anything else. Deep down, you were quite fond of him, even if your actions tended to say otherwise, and you’d like to wager he quite enjoyed your company too. 

You couldn’t wait to get a few shots in him later tonight. Word had it he was a notorious lightweight. 

“Hopefully nobody vomits. I’d hate to be cleaning that up in my own house.” He shuddered at the thought. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” you smiled sweetly, patting him on the shoulder. “You just focus on sticking to your limit, okay? I heard what happened at last year’s wrap up event.”

He bristled. “Nothing happened! It honestly wasn’t even that bad. I’m getting unfairly slandered,” he sulked. “I think you should stop hanging out with Joy so much.”

“Yeah, alright. Should we just skip her birthday party and turn the car around then?”

“Shut up.”

The taxi pulled up in front of Joy’s apartment complex, a tall modern thing with much bigger windows than your own building. And so much more glass, too. After splitting the taxi fare with Jungwoo, the two of you stood at the entrance, waiting for the intercom to connect. 

“Are you sure you pressed the right buttons?” Jungwoo asked, peering over your shoulder.

“Yes, of course. Apartment 814.”

“Maybe you should let me try.”

You let out a sigh. “It’s three numbers, Jungwoo. How is it going to be any different if it’s you pressing them instead of me? Do you think the keypad is going to magically—”

“Hello?” 

An unfamiliar male voice crackled through the intercom. “Are you here for Joy?” 

“Yes,” you and Jungwoo answered in unison. 

“Great, I’ll come down to get you guys now. Will only be a minute!” and then the line disconnected.

You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance. “Is he going to let us in?” you asked. 

“He literally said he’d come down to get us,” he answered flatly. “Do you not listen?”

“It was hard to hear him clearly with all the noise in the background,” you grumbled in defence. Hopefully Joy’s walls were thicker than your own, and her neighbours would not lodge a complaint halfway through the night.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the face of the intercom answerer. It wasn’t detective work to match up the real thing to the pictures Joy would sometimes show you, though he looked taller in real life than he did in the photos from their weekend Jeju trip.

“Sorry about the wait, it was a bit hard to hear the doorbell,” he greeted, ushering you both inside with a warm smile. “I’m Doyoung, by the way.”

You and Jungwoo both introduced yourselves as you stepped into the elevator after him, to which he responded with a hum in recognition, and a knowing grin.

“Are you on door duty for the night?” Jungwoo asked.

Doyoung nodded, pressing on the button for the eighth floor. “It appears I am. She has her hands full with guests to entertain, so,” he trailed off, eyes glazing over for a split second, “you’ll see what I mean when we get up there.”

You had never imagined that a 2-bedroom apartment could fit so many people. Granted, it was nothing compared to the kind of parties you frequented during your university days where cheap spirits and green soju bottles lined the counter, but it was quite a distant cry from the gathering you thought it would be. Judging by the look on Jungwoo’s face, he had not been expecting this either. 

There had to be at least forty people. It almost made you wonder why she didn’t just book out a space instead of letting everyone invade her and her boyfriend’s shared home.

Doyoung made his exit rather quickly after letting you in, probably off to tend to one of his many other duties as unofficial host — poor guy was likely in for a very busy night — leaving you and Jungwoo to fend for yourselves in the entryway of the apartment. There was barely any room left in the tiled space for you to put your shoes.

How did Joy even know this many people? was the thought at the forefront of your mind as you helped Jungwoo stack his sneakers next to yours on a rack further down the hallway. Her present was left on a table near the entry piled with gift bags and wrapped boxes that you assumed was the designated drop-off area. 

Speaking of the birthday girl, you spotted her mingling in the living room and pointed her out to Jungwoo, though it was no easy feat finding her. The number of people, coupled with the dim ambient lighting, made it a challenge to recognise familiar faces. Joy, champagne glass in hand, was swept away in conversation with one of the most beautiful women you had ever laid eyes on. The gorgeous lady held a matching champagne flute in one hand, while the other was wrapped around the arm of—

“Junmyeon? What the hell is he doing here with that beautiful woman?” 

Jungwoo took the words right out of your mouth, a somewhat displeased noise making its way past his lips. You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can’t believe this turned into a work function the moment we stepped through the door,” you all but groaned. “And here I thought having you around was bad enough already.”

You expertly dodged the elbow he jabbed into your side.

Joy spotted the two of you then, lingering by the kitchen, and quickly excused herself from the conversation to rush over. The champagne wobbled precariously in her glass as she approached, engulfing the two of you in a sweet-smelling hug.

“My little children! I’m so glad you could make it!” she cried, resting her chin in the space between your shoulder and Jungwoo’s. You exchanged a glance with the boy amidst the chorus of ‘happy birthday’s. 

There was a 77% chance she was drunk already.

“Had a little too much fun tonight?” you asked, helping to prop her upright again.

Joy only beamed in response. “All the more fun now that you two are here. My favourite fifth floor prisoners.” She gave your cheek a soft pinch.

“Quick question,” Jungwoo began, “why is our manager in your house?”

“With his arm around a beautiful woman way out of his league?” you added, swatting her fingers away from your face.

“That’s my sister Irene,” she said, like it was common knowledge. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you have a sister?”

“Okay, well not my real sister,” she amended, hurriedly waving off your words. “She was a senior in my department. I was really close with her back in university, so, basically my sister. I think we look pretty alike, honestly.”

“And her relation to Junmyeon is…?”

Joy threw a conspiratorial glance around before leaning in, beckoning the two of you closer. This time, a few drops of the champagne did manage to escape via the side of her glass, narrowly missing Jungwoo’s white socks.

“I set them up. On a date!” she whispered, eyes glinting with pride. Why she chose to whisper when it was already hard enough to hear her above the noise at her normal speaking level was beyond you.

You blinked at her a few times. “You set up a goddess like that… with our manager?”

Joy waved another hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Like Junmyeon’s not handsome too. You only think that because you’re too used to seeing him frown and squint at a monitor.” 

You cast a glance in his direction. Maybe she was right. Junmyeon did look somewhat more like a human without his glasses and the semi-permanent lines etched into his forehead. He even looked (dare you say it) quite nice. But maybe it was the poor lighting that made it seem that way.

“Anyways, it’s been about… two months now? I think they look pretty good together,” she mused, following your gaze. 

Junmyeon must have said something funny — a rather loose use of the word by your standards — because Irene had her lovely face scrunched up in a laugh, the pitched sound of it ringing out clearly above the noise of the apartment. In her amusement, she even threw a hand out to slap him lightly on the arm, which he appeared very pleased by.

Sure, you laughed at his jokes too, but it was more out of corporate self-preservation than actual amusement. 

“He kind of has been in a better mood recently,” Jungwoo said thoughtfully.

Joy grabbed his hand with fervour. “Yes, exactly! See? Thanks to my sacrifice, we can all enjoy a nicer, much more pleasant office environment.”

“I’d hardly call that a sacrifice,” you chuckled. “You take too much pleasure in playing matchmaker.” Joy’s response was nothing more than a guilty smile, followed by her emptying the rest of the glass.

It was then that you heard it — the deep, reverberating laugh that always bordered a little bit on breathlessness. It was slightly unnerving how quickly you could pinpoint the sound of his voice without even seeing him, or knowing that he had entered the room. 

You turned around first, eyes drawn to the entry hallway in search of the face to which the laugh belonged. Of course he was going to be here. You knew that. He had said as much two days ago, bidding you farewell across the cafeteria table with a promise to ‘see you on the weekend at Joy’s’.

Lunch with Jaehyun had recently become a rarer occurrence. From what he told you, and the bits of information you gleaned from Joy about Digital, Johnny had pulled Jaehyun onto his team to try and get a firmer grip on the reins not even two weeks ago. Already, the intensity of the new workload was obvious.

You certainly saw him less, much to your disappointment — you could admit that to yourself now.

Jaehyun emerged from the hallway then, midway through another laugh with an arm slung around Doyoung’s shoulders. Funny, how all the other faces were so murky and hard to identify under the dim lighting. And yet, the shape of his dimpled smile was unmistakable to you, as bright as the beacon of a lighthouse on the midnight sea. 

Doyoung scanned the room, catching sight of Joy with you and Jungwoo. He gestured at his girlfriend, and Jaehyun obediently turned in your direction, likely wanting to give his greetings to the birthday girl.

Your eyes locked, and your heart gave a woeful little squeeze in your chest.

“I’m just going to do a quick check on the drink inventory,” Doyoung said as they approached, “I’ll be right back. And please take care of my favourite guest.” With a final friendly pat on Jaehyun’s shoulder, he was off, ducking into the kitchen. 

“Happy birthday!” Jaehyun beamed, arms circling around Joy in a hug which she enthusiastically returned. He grabbed Jungwoo’s hand, pulling him in for one of those man greetings. (Since when were they close?) Their apparent friendship was an unexpected development. 

And then it was your turn. You wondered if it was as easy for others to find solace in a mere gaze as you did with Jaehyun. His eyes did not stray far, wandering around your face, something tender and comforting in his appraisal of your features. A hand came up to brush against your lower back, a gentle and quiet greeting against the excitement of the previous two. His lips pulled into a soft smile as he called your name in greeting. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Joy scoffed.

You inhaled sharply. Was it really that easy to tell? The depth of your attachment?

“You planned this, right? I mean seriously, matching outfits?” she asked, gesturing at you and Jaehyun.

You blinked a few times, looking down blankly at yourself. The dark wash denim and white silk that you had picked out yesterday looked back at you familiarly. Then you glanced at Jaehyun, taking in his white t-shirt, half tucked into a pair of jeans that were exactly the same wash as yours. 

The coordination was completely unintentional — you had no idea what you were going to wear tonight the last time you had spoken to him — but the look on Joy’s face told you there was no use in trying to convince her of the truth. 

(You would’ve argued that the cowl neck of your white silk top elevated your outfit above Jaehyun’s plain white tee, but you digressed.)

“Okay. I’m done with this,” Jungwoo said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’m going to do what single people do, and that is to get a goddamn drink.”

“Me too, another bubbly,” Joy chimed, grasping onto Jungwoo’s arm as he turned to leave for the kitchen. “See my success rate? Let me set you up with someone. My hairdresser’s daughter went to Korea University Business School and graduated not too long ago.” 

The rest of her appeal to play matchmaker for Jungwoo was swallowed up by the music and chatter of her guests. And then it was just you, and Jaehyun, and the thirty other people filling up the living room. 

The two of you shared a glance before dissolving into a few light giggles. 

“I do think I pull it off better,” you teased, giving Jaehyun another once-over. He was as handsome as always, the white cotton draped picturesquely across his lean frame while the dark jeans made his mile-long legs look even longer. He could wear a garbage bag and make it look couture. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said with a crooked smile. 

He raised his arm to reveal the denim jacket draped across his arm that you hadn’t noticed before, too busy making sad little googly eyes at him that you hoped other people couldn’t see. The jacket was coloured in the same wash as his jeans, and your own. 

You gave a scandalised gasp. “No, a matching set? How am I supposed to beat that?”

“You can’t. You can only admit defeat to the double denim. I out-Justin-Timberlaked you.”

“Justin Timberlake is not a verb.”

He only grinned in response, teeth pearly and eyes sparkling as he took in the slight pout of your mouth. 

“Whatever,” you conceded with a wave of your hand, though a smile crept its way onto your face. “You win. Let’s get something to drink.”

Jungwoo and Joy were nowhere to be found when the two of you made your way to the kitchen. What you did find was an impressive selection of bottles atop the marble counter, a selection that easily outdid the ones from your university days in both quality and variety. 

At least one thing was the same. Green soju bottles were always a dependable presence. 

“Shall we go for your favourite?” Jaehyun asked, holding up what looked to be a bottle of wine. You moved a little closer, peering at the label through his fingers.

“I do enjoy a good red,” you replied, accepting the glass he offered you with a quiet ‘thank you’. You took a small sip — because tonight, you felt no need to gulp down alcohol like a camel to ease your nerves — before adding, “Merlot is far from my favourite though.”

“Really?’ He raised an eyebrow. “I do seem to remember how you pretty much finished a whole bottle by yourself. At dinner, that time at the Italian place.”

You held back a wince at the recollection of that fated blind date. Of course he’d remember that. It would be hard to forget the way you all but sculled down three full glasses in the time it took him to finish one. A quick sideways glance revealed the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth, paired with a telling glint in his eyes. Jaehyun was teasing.

“It was honestly quite impressive,” he said, lips curling into a full-blown smile now.

“That was different,” you said. The next sip went down a little faster than you would have liked. “That was out of necessity.” 

There was no way I could’ve made it through that night without alcohol in my system, you almost said, but caught yourself just in time. 

A few seconds passed before either of you spoke again.

“Were you really upset to see me?”

Gone was the playful lilt to his voice. This question was asked softly, carefully, the sound of it so delicate you were afraid it would shatter in the air at your clumsy reply. Slowly, you turned to look at him, seeking the reassurance you were sure you could find in his eyes, but they had moved to the contents of his own glass. You followed their path, watching as he gave the liquid a few absent-minded swirls.

“Maybe. A little, I think,” you admitted. “I don’t know. There was a lot going on in my head that day. When I realised it was you.”

A pair of giggling women — Joy’s guests who you didn’t know — approached the counter, one of them tentatively reaching for something in front of you. Noticing her struggle, you shuffled slightly towards Jaehyun, trying to make some space around the counter. The one with her hand outstretched flashed you a grateful smile, which you politely returned, although with far less vigour. 

Perhaps the bustling kitchen in the centre of all the foot traffic wasn’t the best place for a conversation like this.

There was some fussing with the bottle cap, or whatever it was that they couldn’t quite get to work, followed by a considerably clean pour for two people who were clearly not quite sober. Then they were gone, giggling the entire way out of the kitchen and freeing up the space around you.

If you wanted to, you could have stepped back and returned to your original spot before their arrival. Put some more distance between you and Jaehyun again. Not that you were seriously encroaching on his personal space, but it was enough for you to recognise the proximity.

Instead, you took the smallest of steps closer and placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes flitted down at the touch, taking in the way your fingers lay feather-light on his skin, just above the ridge of his wrist. 

“I’m glad it was you,” you said. The words were true, but the honesty of them still tasted odd on your tongue, and you fought back a cringe. Jaehyun finally turned to meet your eyes, some semblance of hope, or maybe it was relief that coloured his expression. “And I’m glad we’re here, now,” you added.

You hoped he knew you weren’t talking about the far right corner of Joy’s kitchen.

Jaehyun smiled, and it was like the sun had finally risen up over the stark mountain peak, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. It was the kind of warmth you didn’t realise you craved until the full force of it spilled over you, washing away the blue and the cold. 

“Me too,” he said softly.

Even if you hadn’t fallen victim to Joy’s schemes, you would like to think the two of you would still end up here, only via longer and slightly different routes. Perhaps an unexpected run-in in the lobby on a Tuesday morning, or the eventual and excruciatingly awkward introduction through Joy. Whatever it may have been, you’d like to think you would’ve found your way to each other again eventually. 

Curiosity tickled your mind. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He was still smiling, the lines by his nose just visible, and he had his eyes on you, though there was a faraway look about them. Something about his gaze reminded you of the way you’d regard a painting, framed and hung up on a wall in some art museum — carefully examining the details of the brushstrokes against the canvas, yet all the while trying to hold the whole piece in your mind’s eye, and let it touch the surface of that primal emotion somewhere inside of you. The depth of his gaze was enough to make you self-conscious, and you quickly averted your eyes, taking another sip from your glass. It was a good excuse to school your features before you spoke again.

“How did you feel when you saw me? Were you upset?”

Jaehyun regarded his own glass wistfully. “Not exactly upset, no,” he began, though a movement in his peripheral had him trailing off. 

Another of Joy’s guests had appeared, hovering beside the two of you with his eyes set on the bottle of whiskey directly in front of you. Politely, Jaehyun side-stepped away from the counter and wrapped a gentle hand around the bend of your elbow, guiding you out of the hectic buzz of the kitchen. It stayed there, warm and comforting, until you found your way back to the open space of the living room, and even then he was slow to let you go, fingertips lingering a just second too long before they retreated back to his side. 

“I think I was surprised, more than anything,” he continued. “Didn’t really know what to expect, not that I was expecting much. I never even thought I’d get to see you again after university. Thought you were gone for good.”

He paused, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly. The movement was small, and you wondered if you were supposed to have caught it at all.

“You stood there, with your bag in one hand and your cardigan in the other, looking like you were waiting for me to spontaneously combust—”

“Okay, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“—and all I could think about was how you were even prettier than I remembered. And back then I already thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

At that, you were quiet. Whatever silly rebuttal or attempt to defend yourself died quickly on your tongue as you let his confession settle beneath your skin, warming it from the inside out. Jaehyun was not even one bit fazed, looking like he had just said something trivial about the weather, or stated some objective fact like ‘grass is green’. For him, honesty had never been the heavy, cumbersome challenge it was for you. Judging by the resigned smile on his face, he wasn’t expecting some grand response from you either, which was all the better, because god, what were you supposed to say to something like that?

“Oh, there you are,” came a voice from behind you, followed by a hand on your shoulder. 

Joy’s timing was impeccable, as always.

“Sorry, this one is coming with me,” she said to Jaehyun, looping her arm around yours with half-drunken determination. “Us fifth-floors have some business to settle. With darts.”

Your eyes followed the direction of her outstretched arm, where sure enough, there was a dartboard hanging on the wall by the balcony. Jungwoo was there, standing obediently with his hands crossed in front of his stomach as he politely nodded along to whatever Junmyeon was animatedly saying. The beer bottle Jungwoo cradled, now forgotten, seemed more like an accessory than an actual beverage. He caught your eye and sent you a frantic look.

You whipped your head back to Jaehyun. “Please don’t let her take me.” 

Surely, he could see the pleading, the desperation in your eyes.

Jaehyun, having witnessed the whole exchange between you and Jungwoo, only grinned. “It does sound like some serious business,” he said, cheeks dimpling. Joy made a noise of agreement and gave your arm a little tug.

“You’re more than welcome to come and spectate, Jaehyun,” she called out over her shoulder as she herded you towards her destination. His only response was a hearty laugh. You stared at him in despair as you were towed away by the birthday girl. Next time you’d invite his boss to the function.

The game of darts (or seven games, if you were being precise) was decidedly less awful than you had expected. Junmyeon had promised not to speak about work and by some miracle, actually stuck to his word. Maybe you even got to know the guy a little better, outside of his office habits like the specific order in which he drank his three teas everyday (yuja, then chamomile, and lastly peppermint). Like you, he was somewhat of a wine enthusiast, though his knowledge of French vineyards was far superior to yours. 

By the third round, the game had clearly left your little work circle. Jaehyun joined in at one point, competitiveness getting the better of him. Doyoung tried his hand too, and he was honestly abysmal, but smiled the whole time and seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he had to pick the darts off the floor on every turn. Out of all the players over the course of the seven games, Junmyeon’s date Irene had been the most unexpected hidden card, scoring three bullseyes in a row. 

Oh, to be a goddess and have perfect hand-eye coordination. 

“You feeling okay?” you asked a rather blank-looking Jungwoo. His eyes were beginning to droop, and so was the rest of his body, long limbs sprawled out against the leather. You could swear he only had his initial bottle of beer and the two celebratory soju shots Joy had forced him to take (from which you were not exempt either), and yet here he was, half-asleep on the couch.

“Hmm,” was his eloquent reply.

The party was slowly drawing to a close, the living room much emptier now than it had been when you first walked in. Junmyeon and Irene had made their departure some twenty minutes ago, and there were only a handful of guests left, most of them getting ready to leave as well. Grown adults didn’t gamble with their sleep schedules. 

Doyoung emerged from the hallway, running a hand through the mess of hair on top of his head, already tousled from the fifty or so times he had repeated the action throughout the night.

“Okay, she’s knocked out,” he sighed. On his face, you glimpsed the first sign of relief you had seen all night. “I don’t think she’s going to puke, but I left a bucket by the bed just in case.”

You flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t imagine it was easy having to wrangle all these people for so long.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. As long as Joy’s happy and had a good time.” 

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Doyoung smiled, and the fondness held within it felt like a private thing you shouldn’t have witnessed. Your mind went, now as it always did, to a certain dimpled smile.

“I’d better get this one home,” you said instead, gesturing at Jungwoo slumped on the couch. You turned towards the boy, patting his shoulder gently. “Come on, time to go.”

“Mmffh.” 

Another brilliant and enlightening response.

The owner of your favourite dimpled smile stepped out from the bathroom to the sight of you struggling to get Jungwoo upright enough to loop an arm around your shoulders. The half-asleep boy was lean, but definitely heavier than he looked, or perhaps the few glasses of wine over the course of the night had sapped some of the strength from your body. Jaehyun was at your side in an instant, shouldering most of Jungwoo’s weight as the two of you dragged him to a standing position.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, no room for discussion in his tone. You had no mind to protest anyway. 

Doyoung was already busying himself with clearing plates and glasses from the living area when Jaehyun bid him farewell. The guy seemed to have formulated a detailed plan of attack to get his apartment back to the no-doubt spotless state it had been prior to tonight.

“I sorted out most of the empty bottles so you should be able to just throw them out in the morning,” Jaehyun said over his shoulder. He crouched on the ground, guiding Jungwoo’s disobedient left foot into the correct shoe, carefully doing up the laces once both feet were inside their corresponding sneakers. 

You tossed a glance back at Doyoung whizzing around the place like a Roomba, feeling a pang of guilt for not having done much to help him clean up. Even though you had been a much more gracious and tidy guest than other people in Joy’s company, you couldn’t help but feel like there was more you could’ve done, apart from babysitting a very not-sober Jungwoo and making sure he didn’t crack his head open on the corner of the coffee table. 

“It’s fine,” Jaehyun said softly. You turned to look at him, half-surprised, and he only flashed you a small smile. “Doyoung likes to clean. I think he finds comfort in it.”

He was fluent as ever in your micro-expressions. Maybe one day you’d learn to stop being surprised by it. 

The taxi back to Jungwoo’s place was shorter than you had expected. His head lolled between your shoulder and Jaehyun’s in the backseat, before finally finding a home in Jaehyun’s lap. Even when you finally tucked the younger boy safely into his own bed — after going to great lengths to extract his building code which involved a series of profuse apologies to his neighbours who you had mistakenly rung in the middle of the night — there was an impressive imprint on his right cheek that exactly matched the side seam on Jaehyun’s jeans. You could’ve sworn there was a small, wet patch of drool left behind on the denim, and you were sure Jaehyun himself had noticed it too, but he gave no indication of complaint.

“Are you far from here?” Jaehyun asked once the elevator had brought the both of you back down to Jungwoo’s lobby.

“I’m actually just a fifteen minute walk away,” you answered.

The invitation in your voice was silent, and you knew he would’ve accompanied you home even if you lived on the other side of the city. Still, some achingly pleasant emotion settled over you when you heard his footsteps fall in with yours against the pavement. He took his place between you and the open street, shielding you from the bustle of late night delivery bikes and club bound taxis.

Though the days still resembled summer, nights were when the beginnings of autumn could reveal itself. The slight chill in the air was not unbearable, but still noticeable against your bare arms, and just enough for goosebumps to spring up on the skin there. Before you could even bring your hands up to wrap them around yourself, Jaehyun shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, drawing the collar close around your neck. The stiff denim was a little rough, but warm from his body heat all the same, with faint traces of his woody scent lingering on the fabric.

Jaehyun thrust his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Now you out-Justin-Timberlake me.”

“Still not a real word.”

You supposed there was something about night-time that made it feel all the more forgiving to the emotional afflictions of the human condition. Perhaps it was only against the muted palette of the midnight blue sky and the dimly lit city streets that you felt brave enough to face the truth of your feelings, without agonising over the consequences of acknowledging them. Even so, you found yourself wishing the night would stretch on for just a little longer. Honesty always seemed to wear off faster than it came on.

“You’ve been crazy busy lately.”

Jaehyun’s responding laugh contained little amusement. “Crazy busy is one way to put it. I can’t believe Johnny has had to deal with all of this the whole time. This client is so,” he paused, trying to find the right word, before finally settling on “demanding.” The look in his eyes gave you the feeling there were many other more colourful adjectives he wanted to use instead.

The two of you passed the convenience store corner of your street. Your place was not too far up ahead, the glass building doors almost visible if you squinted. The night was coming to an end, and something cold and heavy settled in your chest to accompany the realisation.

“They want us in New York working on the new client site as soon as possible, so we’ve been running around trying to get visas and everything sorted,” he sighed. 

Your footsteps faltered. 

“You’re going to New York?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“When?”

“Within the next week, if everything comes back approved.”

You hadn’t even noticed that you had come to a standstill until Jaehyun’s footsteps also slowed to a stop. The both of you stood like that, under the dim glow from the streetlights, in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“We’ll probably be there until the end of the year, at least until the design piece is done,” he said. 

Did your face betray the sudden drop of your stomach? Did the sound of a fissure cracking through your chest escape through the slight parting of your lips?

It was silly, really. That one small piece of information could turn your entire world on its head. International travel on a project wasn’t a rare occurrence. And you supposed you would’ve found out sooner or later, even if he hadn’t told you, because he had no obligation to update you about every development in his life, even if they involved crossing continents. Even if you wanted to know every little detail. 

Jaehyun’s eyes moved from his shoes to your face. The shadows cast by the streetlights made it hard to decipher his expression, but you thought there was a pleading look to his handsome face. What he was pleading for, you weren’t entirely sure. 

You cleared your throat and finally found your voice again. “That’s really exciting, Jaehyun,” you managed, trying to keep your tone light. “I hear New York is gorgeous this time of year.”

The smile you pasted on your face was a flimsy one, and you could feel your top lip begin to tremble when he didn’t quite return it. Before it could turn into a grimace, you let the corners of your mouth fall. There had never been any use in putting on an act in front of him. Unsure what else to say without sounding insincere — though you were excited for him, truly, this little fit of sadness was a silly thing that would pass surely and quickly — you turned and resumed your steps towards your apartment. 

Another few minutes and you’d be in the safety of your own home. Free to let your top lip tremble and quiver, and let the inexplicable lump in your throat force its way out, rather than try to swallow it down.

It only took a few steps for you to realise that Jaehyun had not followed. You looked over your shoulder to find him standing there by the streetlight, eyes fixed on the ground again. 

“I don’t want to go,” he said, toeing at a crack in the concrete. “If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. I don’t want to leave…”

You.

He may not have said that last word, but you heard it all the same. Your chest squeezed with emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“But you have to,” you said softly. A gentle breeze blew through the early autumn air and you briefly wondered if your words had been carried adrift.

He looked up at you then, eyes burning into yours with unspoken sentiments. A thousand words were conveyed with that one look, those few seconds in which you understood everything he wanted to say, and nothing he wanted to say, because he hadn’t said much at all. Just like how he could read your emotions with a simple glance at your face, you saw his reluctance. You saw the irresolution in his resolve, and how it wavered as he turned over in his mind the things he wanted to say to you, and how much of his heart he was willing to risk. 

“But I have to,” he agreed. 

Jaehyun still knew you inside out, yes, but you knew him too.

Your feet dragged over the last few hundred metres to your apartment complex, until you finally reached the door and there was nothing left you could do to delay the inevitable.

“Here,” you said, handing his jacket back to him. “Thank you for walking me home.”

He took it from your outstretched hand, fingers just brushing your knuckles. “Of course.”

And maybe Jaehyun was just as unwilling to let you go. His feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete pavement in front of your building, even though you were pretty sure no harm would befall you across the five steps into the lobby. The two of you stood there for a while, neither quite knowing what to say, or how to ward off the odd melancholy you knew he felt too.

There were so few guarantees of forever in life. You knew that. And even if you had never really gotten him back in the first place, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him again. Except this time, he wouldn’t just be a 67-minute subway ride away. This time, he’d be a 14-hour flight away, on the other side of not the city but the world, with 7,000 miles and the entire Pacific Ocean separating you. 

And yes, he’d come back eventually, but who could promise that the feelings between the two of you now would be the same upon his return? You knew that you were in no position to demand he refrain from exploring other romantic pursuits, to deter him from making new connections in the diverse metropolis that was New York City, and all the excitement and energy that came with it. 

You had unknowingly gotten in the way of that once.

“Well, I’d better get inside,” you said quietly, gesturing at the building behind you. Jaehyun only nodded.

This was it. All things must come to an end, you thought as you walked up to the lobby door. Even if they never really started. Perhaps you and your hesitance to let him in had played the biggest part of all, and whatever it was between you and Jaehyun wouldn’t be ending before it began if you had only been more forgiving at the start. Less pointy and disagreeable. Perhaps then you would be parting now on more certain terms, and you’d carry some peace of mind knowing he’d be coming back to you, instead of the crushing weight of disappointment currently lodged underneath your sternum.

And yet, what difference did it make? You’d be losing him anyway, no matter what you did. In two weeks’ time, he’d be sitting in a conference room on a different continent, regardless of whether you said nothing or cussed him out to his face right now.

Your hand froze on the steel handle for only a second before you turned around to face him again. Three determined strides was all it took to close the distance between you. 

“What is it?” he asked.

There had been few occasions where you had seen Jaehyun drunk, or at least not sober, in the years you had known him. Your split early on in university had not afforded you many chances to witness his supposedly high tolerance in action at weekend benders. Nothing more than a few underage sips snuck from his dad’s glass at the dinner table. You took a second now to look at him, really look at him, taking in all the details of the face you knew almost as well as your own. 

Pink. Everything about him was so pink, from the slight tinge around the whites of his eyes, to the lingering flush in the apples of his cheeks.

To the pretty colour of his soft, full lips. 

They parted with confusion when you approached. Carefully, you reached out a hand and placed it against his cheek, feeling the way he leaned into your touch almost immediately. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments before they were searching your face again, almost fervently. 

“I just…” you whispered, trying to commit this picture of him to memory. 

What difference did it make?

It was hard to tell who moved first. You’d like to believe it didn’t matter.

The rhythm of your lips against his was unfamiliar at first, clumsy from years of disuse. Through slow and careful movements, you reacquainted yourself with the shape of Jaehyun’s mouth, the pillowy swell of his bottom lip as it gently slid in between your own. It fit there perfectly, like it always did. His hands came up to graze the curve of your waist, resting lightly on your skin as if he was afraid you’d crumble like sand in his grasp. 

You tilted your head, parting your mouth ever so slightly to let the tip of your tongue brush against the underside of his top lip. The kiss changed immediately. You felt his surprise in the small puff of air that escaped through his nose and landed softly against your cheek. His fingers gripped at you with a newfound strength, pulling you flush against him. Even through the fabric of your shirts, the outline of his toned chest was unmistakable. Your hands found their home in the softness of hair at the nape of his neck, revelling in the throaty sound that left him as you ran your hands through it. 

How had you denied yourself of this for so long?

Jaehyun must have pulled away first, because suddenly you could breathe again, shaky gasps coming in and out through your mouth. He fared no better, pressing his forehead gently against yours while he tried to catch his breath.

You couldn’t think. You felt electrified, as if every nerve ending in your body was simultaneously firing, as if your blood was laced with dynamite. Hell, you had half a mind to invite him up to your room and finish off what you had so brazenly started.

“It’s late,” he finally managed, voice rough. “You should head in.” His hands, however, stayed firmly in place around your waist. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow.

Right. Perhaps it was best to let the night end here, before you could do anything else that you might regret. 

“Yeah, I should probably,” you murmured, catching the way his eyes followed each movement of your mouth as you spoke. The sound of your voice seemed to break the daze he was in, and you felt his grip on you loosen, slowly and reluctantly. The arms you had looped around his neck made their way back to your sides. You were released from his warmth far too quickly.

Impulsive decisions (like inviting your ex-boyfriend to spend the night in your one-bedroom apartment with nowhere to sleep except in your bed) seldom ended well. You should’ve known better than to make those rookie mistakes.

You had barely turned around to walk up to your building doors when Jaehyun wrapped a warm hand around your wrist and pulled you back into him. He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing the small noise of surprise that left your mouth. This time, his kiss was softer, surer, and in it you tasted the sweetness of unspoken promises he was determined to keep. 

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he said, dark eyes fixed on you with conviction. Your lip colour had smudged by the side of his mouth, leaving behind a faint pink stain that only added to the pretty hue of his now kiss-swollen lips. 

He was still the most gorgeous person you had ever seen. 

“See you when you’re back, then,” you echoed. 

Some odd emotion, neither happy nor sad, settled in your chest as you pushed open the door to the emptiness of your home. You had rushed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun before he left, only to find he had gone already, and the sidewalk outside your building was as vacant as to be expected for this hour of the night.

No matter. You’d wait for him to come back. 

“One more prosecco before he disappears to the bathroom for the rest of the night.”

You cast a glance at the catering table and clicked your tongue against your teeth.

“Half a prosecco,” you concluded, taking a sip from your own glass. 

Joy raised a shapely eyebrow at you. “You know it doesn’t hit until at least twenty minutes after he gets the munchies.”

“True, but he specifically told me he skipped lunch today so it would hit earlier, and he’d have the energy to mingle.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “I guess that’d do it.”

The two of you turned your gazes back to the catering table, where Jungwoo was doing some serious damage to the salmon ceviche tostadas. The glass in his hand was empty, and you watched as he asked for a refill from one of the waitstaff.

“Someone should really stop him,” Joy sighed. “Before we get a repeat of last year.”

“Someone should,” you agreed.

Neither of you made a move.

As far as year-end wrap-up events went, this one wasn’t too bad, even if it was your first at the company. This year, HR had managed to book one of the smaller function rooms at an upscale hotel, with an open bar and hors d’oeuvres menu to match. It was a nice chance to celebrate the year’s achievements, and get to know the other people in the department a little better. Already a year in this place, and you’d be lying if you said you knew the name of every person on your floor.

September to November had flown by in a blur. Recruitment for the company’s graduate program next year had been an intensive few months of screening, interviewing, reviewing, and then interviewing again. As hectic as it had been, the fruits of your team’s efforts had been warmly recognised with smiles and praises from the senior managers and higher-ups you’d had the chance to speak with tonight. 

Traditionally, each department hosted their own event, though from what you gathered, HR and Marketing were the only ones that put in any real effort. While HR liked to keep things classy, Marketing liked to go all out.

“Do you think it’s true that Marketing rented out a yacht this year?” you asked. Surely their budget wasn’t that excessive.

Joy made a face. “God, I hope not. It’s the middle of December. I’d be surprised if the Han River wasn’t all frozen over.”

Winter had come early this year, sinking its cold fingers into November and staking its claim. Yet, there had been no snow, even though it was only a few days out from the holidays. Though it was nice that your clothes stayed relatively dry all day from the lack of precipitation, you couldn’t help but miss the sight of the city covered in a blanket of white softness. 

“There he goes,” Joy said, nudging your arm. You turned to see Jungwoo excuse himself from the conversation, setting down a barely-touched glass on the tablecloth. He made a beeline for the men’s restrooms, or as close to a beeline as he could manage in his current state, face flushed and a little queasy.

It was a good thing the company’s holiday closure started tomorrow.

“Okay, you win. Want to come and get a refill with me?” she asked. “We can say hi to a few of the directors over there.”

The thought of having to network with more seniors, when you had already spent the last hour and a half donning bright smiles and laughing politely at their lacklustre jokes, was not a pleasant one. You knew it would be a good thing for you to go and introduce yourself, but your battery for social interaction had long since been depleted. Perhaps you should’ve taken a page out of Jungwoo’s book.

Still, you flashed Joy a grateful smile. “You go ahead. I might grab some air, actually.”

“Okay,” she replied, eyes warm with understanding. “But make sure you put your coat on. It’s freezing out there.”

She was right, of course. The toasty interior of the function room was a completely different world from the frigid gust of wind that greeted you as soon as you pulled the sliding door open. An upscale hotel needed to have a matching upscale view of the city. You leaned against the balcony railing, blocking out the icy sting of the metal against your hands, and took in the sight of the not-quite-frozen Han River below, and the sparkling Seoul Tower further away on the skyline.

You’d only be out here for a little bit, you told yourself. Just a few minutes, and then you’d head home.

Truthfully, you could have left half an hour ago when your reserves for socialising had just run out, and be within the warm and familiar confines of your own bed right now, doom-scrolling to your heart’s content. But these days, the solitude of your apartment that you had once found comforting had evolved into a loneliness that you’d rather avoid. 

The empty echoes of your own footsteps across the tiled floors didn’t bounce against the walls like deep laughter did.

Absent-mindedly, you thumbed at the pendant sitting at the hollow of your throat. You had turned your jewellery box inside out, almost fully convinced that you had lost the thing entirely until you finally spotted the milky pearl set in white gold, underneath all the other chains. It was gorgeous when you had first opened the velvet box all those years ago, and it still was now, even if you hadn’t seen it for quite some time. Jaehyun always had an eye for beautiful things.

You weren’t the only one who endured a few packed and chaotic months. Johnny’s team had flown out of the country the Wednesday after Joy’s birthday and had been sequestered in New York ever since. Between your swamped schedules and the 14 hour time difference, conversations with Jaehyun were intermittent at best, and sparse and uncoordinated at worst. Sometimes he’d message with silly little things, like the time he sent you a picture of a doll sitting in the window of an antique shop.

this reminded me of you, the accompanying text had said.

He was due back soon, and there was still much left to be said, but above all, you only hoped that he was well, and that the New York winter was much more forgiving than it was here at home.

The cloudy wisps of air formed by your breath floated upwards before they dissipated into the night sky. No wonder the balcony was empty — who would want to be out here when there were mozzarella stuffed mushrooms and central heating on the other side of the glass?

You heard the doors slide open behind you as someone else equally as crazy decided to step out into the cold. Just as well. It was time for you to head back anyways. You turned to make your way inside, only to freeze in your tracks.

“They told me I’d find you out here. You really know how to pick a spot, huh?”

A soft gasp left your mouth.

“Jaehyun?”

He gave you a smile, your favourite smile, where his dimples were only just visible, and there was the hint of a pout to the shape of his lips. He was here, and he was in front of you, looking at you like you were the most wonderful thing in the world that he would ever have the good fortune of knowing. Your chest swelled almost painfully at the sight of him.

“When did you get back? How did you even get in here?”

“We landed in Incheon earlier this afternoon. I had to pay the door guy outside a hundred bucks for him to let me in.”

Your eyes widened. “He can’t make you do that!”

“Just kidding,” Jaehyun chuckled. “I only had to show him my company ID.”

He walked over to where you stood by the railing and rested his arms against the metal. His profile was sharp against the darkness of the night sky, and you took a moment to study the details while he took in the view. 

“Are you tired?” you asked. “It can’t be easy adjusting to the time difference.”

“A little,” he admitted. The bags under his eyes were dark and purple now that you could see his face up close. He must have been exhausted. Nobody ever slept well on long haul flights. “You should see Johnny though. He would have come tonight, but jet lag is seriously kicking his ass.”

You shared a laugh, traces of your breaths mingling in the air. Beside him, you settled back into your original spot, mirroring the way he leaned against the metal railing. Jaehyun was close, but not too close, your elbows only a few centimetres apart. A mellow silence settled over the balcony as you gazed out at the river, watching the never-ending stream of cars as they circled the waterfront. 

With even this, you were content. His mere presence next to you was a remedy in itself, regardless of the words shared or touches exchanged. You felt more at home in this moment now than you had in over 3 months.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, still gazing out into the distance. The gravity in his voice hinted at circumstances beyond the recent season he had spent on the other side of the world. And yet, he had said it so simply, as if the words were an immovable truth that would withstand the corrosion of time.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied.

Maybe it was just that simple, because it was the truth. The nights weathered away in your own apartment were only lonely because there had been an absence of him, an absence that was known to you, even if you had not felt it for many years.

He turned to you, taking in a shaky breath. “I should never have let you go.”

“Oh, Jaehyun—”

“I was young, and foolish, and I thought I knew what I wanted. And I had you, but I thought I wanted more, because I wanted everything. I wanted the whole damn world.”

Something sharp pricked behind your eyes as you listened to the honesty pouring out of him.

“And then I lost you, and it was—god, it was… like someone had sucked all the colour out of my life. And I had no one to blame, because I was the one who did that to myself. To us.”

It was so hard to not notice the pain etched into his beautiful features. The tight set of his jaw. The redness that rimmed his eyes. Your fingers ached to reach over and smooth out the crease between his brows.

“There were so many things I could have done to make things right between us again. Even if you wouldn’t have me back. But my pride, and my ego… I did nothing—”

“You can’t pin it all on yourself, Jaehyun,” you said, shaking your head. “I had no idea what I wanted. And even when I did, I never acted—I never stood up for myself. I could’ve fought for us, but I didn’t. I just accepted everything. Hell, I never even told you how I felt.”

You flashed him a watery smile. “We needed the time away from each other, don’t you think?” 

There was a moment where the two of you simply stared at each other. A hurricane of repressed emotions swirled in your chest, finally breaking the surface five years on. Jaehyun must have felt the same, reliving all those memories now. You could see it on his face.

Youth was so beautiful, and precious — even the heartbreak, and all the other foolish things that came along with it. 

“I let you go once, and maybe that was meant to happen.” He took a step closer. “But we’re not dumb teenagers anymore. I’m not… I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

His eyes locked on yours as he gazed at you with reverence. “Don’t you still feel the same? Even after all these years?”

I do, you wanted to say. 

You would have too, if it weren’t for the small speck of white that landed in Jaehyun’s dark hair. It was visible for only a few seconds before melting away. You looked up and sure enough, the night sky was dotted with white.

“First snow,” you breathed, watching as the snowflakes fell from the sky. “Do you know what that means?”

Jaehyun gave you a small shake of his head. Of course. He never believed in superstitions.

You reached for his hand, feeling his fingers respond to yours immediately. He was so warm, and his touch breathed life back into your frozen body.

“If you see the first snow with someone you love, it means that your love will be true and long-lasting.”

A few seconds passed as he took in your words, trying to make sense of them.

“You… love me?”

“I do,” you admitted. A teardrop finally spilled out from your waterline, leaving behind a wet track on your cheek that stung in the cold. “Even when I thought I hated you, deep down, I think I still loved you.”

One of his hands came up to wipe away the trail of moisture from the escaped tear. The action sent a shiver through your entire body.

“I never stopped loving you,” he confessed softly, stroking your cheek. You felt it then, that deep, aching feeling that had threaded itself into the very marrow of your bones. 

Longing. You longed for his presence, his smile, his touch. You longed to hold his heart in your hands again, and give him yours in exchange. You had missed him more than you could bear, and here he was, telling you his heart was where it had always been, sitting in the centre of your palm. 

Perfect moments didn’t exist, but damn did this one come close.

“Come here,” Jaehyun whispered, pulling you into him. 

His mouth was just as sweet as you remembered. His lips were a little rougher, slightly chapped from the cold. His kiss was slow and patient, taking his time to explore the shape of your mouth and mould to it again. You felt his smile, the slight tension in his bottom lip giving him away, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, a quiet giggle bubbling in your chest before escaping through your lips. 

“I really fucking missed you,” you mumbled against his mouth, another giggle accompanying the words. “You kissed me and then you were on a plane to the other side of the world.” 

“I told you I’d see you when I was back, didn’t I?” he reminded, giving your waist a small squeeze. “And for the record, you kissed me. Not that it matters.”

You swatted a hand against his chest. “I see you still care too much about technicalities.”

Jaehyun only laughed, that deep and familiar sound you had craved to hear for the last 3 months. He pulled your hands into his warm ones, and pressed his lips to your knuckles. 

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around yours. 

“Well, I was about to head back inside when you found me. It’s nice and toasty in there.”

“Do you want to go in now?”

You looped your arms around his neck and buried your head into the crook of it. “Let’s just stay out here for a little bit longer,” you said, words muffled by the fabric of his coat. “You always run hot in the colder months anyways. Enough to keep me warm.”

He hummed in agreement, holding you flush against him as the snow fell around you. In his arms, you were the most at ease you had been in years, and the thought was almost enough to bring a fresh new wave of moisture to your eyes. 

“What is that—something’s digging in,” he suddenly said, pulling away from you. His eyes landed on the pendant that had slipped out from underneath the lapels of your coat. Wordlessly, he reached for it, running his thumb across the pale pearl that hung from your neck. 

“You kept this?” 

“Of course,” you answered. “You kept yours.”

He smiled, a big one, dimples marking his cheeks. “Of course,” he repeated. 

“We’re lucky, aren’t we? To have found each other again after all this time?”

Jaehyun’s reply took the form of another sweet and unhurried kiss. It warmed you from the inside out, all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“So we’re really doing this, right?” he asked. “We’re giving us a second chance?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you said all that earlier just for shits and giggles?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, squeezing your sides again. “I just wanted to make sure. I think I might lose faith in the world if you tell me you don’t want to be with me.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” you reassured. The snow was sticking to his hair, and you took a second to run your hands through it, brushing off the half-melted pieces. His eyes fondly followed your every movement.

“Good, because I plan on keeping you for a long time.”

You returned inside shortly after. The snow had picked up and it was clear that you couldn’t stay out for much longer (unless you wanted hypothermia, which neither of you did). The function hall was much emptier now than it had been when you stepped out, and of the remaining faces, none of them were familiar. 

A quick glance at your phone showed a few unread messages from Joy. 

joy [08:32 pm]: hey, had to leave, doyoung’s still working tomorrow so it’s an early night for me joy [08:33 pm]: hope you and jaehyun work things out joy [08:33 pm]: i’m rooting for you guys!!

joy [08:37 pm]: also can you see if jungwoo is okay joy [08:38 pm]: i don’t think he’s come out yet

“Can I ask a favour, just before we go?”

Jaehyun smiled back at you sweetly, devotion written in his eyes. “Anything.”

“Pop into the men’s room and check if Jungwoo’s still alive?”

Life was a funny thing. 

“There are so few things in life that are guaranteed. Death, for one, and taxes, for another. Sorry if that was a bit dark and killed the mood. You can laugh, by the way. But I think everyone here would agree, neither of those two are all that conducive to happiness.”

Roundabout. 

“So when the girl you’ve been chasing, for what feels like an eternity, finally gives you a second chance, you absolutely cannot take it for granted. You grab onto that chance with both hands, and even your teeth if you have to. It’s no guarantee for happiness, but it’s your best bet.”

Unpredictable. 

“I’m not a God-fearing man, but I’m a God-believing man. I thank God everyday for bringing such a magnificent woman into my life.”

He raised his glass. 

“Joy, you make me the happiest person in the world, and I can’t wait to be married to you.”

The crowd broke into warm applause as Doyoung finished off his impromptu speech by planting a kiss on his bride-to-be.

“He’s so good at talking,” you mused, wrapping your arm around Jaehyun’s. “If that’s his toast for this, I wonder what his vows will be like.”

A year ago, you would never have believed that you’d be attending your co-worker’s engagement party, much less with your ex-boyfriend who you hadn’t seen in 5 years. Spring had well and truly arrived, and with it came promises of love and new beginnings. The last rays of the April afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of the riverside art centre. The venue was gorgeous, floating on the edge of the river with unobstructed views of the skyline and where it met the water — as always, Joy knew how to pick a spot.

“I didn’t know she rejected him before they got together. He must have really liked her.”

Jaehyun gave you a crooked smile. “Four years of university, and he never gave up. Even when she started dating that blockhead from liberal arts.”

“I bet he would’ve felt like the luckiest guy in the world when she finally said yes to a date,” you said, watching as the happy couple shared a moment, giggling about something nobody else was privy to. Jaehyun followed your gaze and made a small noise of agreement.

“Not as lucky as I am to have found you again.”

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. You could’ve sworn there was stardust sprinkled into those pretty brown eyes of his.

Life was a funny thing, for sure. It had a funny way of bringing back things you once thought you had lost forever. You knew now that you had to seize them before they passed by. Who knew if they’d ever turn up again?

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Jungwoo set his glass down on the table with a loud thunk, lightly startling you.

“I’m right here. You guys know that, right? I am right in front of you.”

A sheepish smile was thrown his way. “Sorry.” You patted his hand once, softly. “Your time will come, I’m sure of it,” you reassured. “How did the date with the KU Business girl go?”

“I flaked,” Jungwoo said simply.

“No! Why?”

He sighed. “Blind dates are really not my thing. It’s too awkward. And it feels so superficial. Like, what if you have nothing in common, or there’s no physical attraction, or—” 

Jungwoo paused, cutting himself off. “Actually, I’m not talking about this with you people. I’m going to get another drink.” With that, he turned and headed straight for the cocktail bar. You and Jaehyun gazed at him from behind as he walked off.

“I’m gonna be babysitting him again tonight, aren’t I?” Jaehyun asked, the question directed at nobody in particular.

“People are going to start wondering if you’re dating me or him.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “Should I give them a reminder?”

“My boss is standing right over there, so no.”

Junmyeon and Irene were still going steady, to your surprise. You’d probably be seeing more and more of him, since Joy and the rest of the Parks genuinely treated Irene like one of their own. The thought wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, but not awful either. Maybe you were warming up to him.

“Also, you should probably be careful about who you call blockhead,” you said to Jaehyun, holding back a smile.

He fixed you with a suspicious stare. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” you trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his head. The smile broke through, your cheeks lifting as you tried to keep the laughter from coming out. He, on the other hand, was thoroughly unimpressed.

“You should really watch your mouth,” he said lowly, though he was smiling. There was a look in his eyes that sent a jolt straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Or what?”

His hands were all over you before you even made it through the door.

“My beautiful, gorgeous, sexy girlfriend,” he mumbled, peppering your neck with kisses between each adjective. The keypad finally beeped and you pushed down on the handle, letting the door swing open as you pulled him in by the collar.

“Stop talking and just kiss me,” you sighed, dragging his face back up to yours. He was all too eager to comply, mouth slotting over yours with practised ease. His tongue brushed along yours in the way he knew you liked, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. Fire licked at your insides as he drew a light moan from you.

Four months in, the second time around, and everything with Jaehyun was still electrifying.  

Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, finally succeeding with undoing the top one after a few tries. Hands came up around the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto his kitchen countertop. The marble was cool to the touch, and you felt it through the silk of your dress, a soft gasp of surprise flying from your mouth into his awaiting one.

“Been wanting to do this all day, ever since you put this thing on,” Jaehyun rasped. The heat of his body radiated into you from where he stood between your parted legs. He was so warm up against you, and he smelled so good, you were positively light-headed with desire.

His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “You look so fucking good,” he said, teeth gently grazing the skin of your neck. “My pretty girl.” The quick press of his hips into yours pulled another moan out of you, and you braced a hand against the marble countertop.

Your fingers knocked against the edge of something sharp and sent it tumbling to the floor, where it landed with a heavier thud than you were expecting.

“What was that?” you forced out in between gasps. Jaehyun’s teeth nipped at your collarbone, showing no signs of letting up. “Wait, Jae, something fell on the floor.”

You had smashed a mug in your apartment in the midst of it once. Better safe than sorry.

Reluctantly, Jaehyun detached himself from you and bent down to retrieve the fallen item. He was breathing hard as he picked up a thick, padded envelope, and flipped it over to read the details.

“Photos,” he finally managed, tossing the package back onto the counter. “We can look at them later.”

His mouth was on you again, working at the spot between your neck and shoulder that always had your knees weak and toes curling. 

“Wait,” you giggled, “my film photos? I want to see.” He had sent the camera off almost two weeks ago, and you had been (im)patiently waiting for the developed pictures to be sent back. 

Jaehyun looked up at you with hooded eyes. “Really? You want to look at them now?”

You nodded. 

A beat passed before his face broke into a lazy smile. 

“Okay,” he chuckled softly, reaching for the envelope again. 

There was a good stack in there. The ones on top were more recent, with a few shots from his birthday that had recently passed. You had taken him ice skating at the outdoor rink atop Namsan Mountain. The twinkling lights that hung from the trees surrounding the rink were still beautiful, even through photos. Jaehyun was good at so many things that it was unfair — how could he be so talented and have a face like that? — but on that day, you discovered that ice skating was not one of his strengths, and the bruises on his tailbone could attest to that. 

“The colouring on these is really nice,” you murmured, flicking through the photos.

He hummed. “They are. This place doesn’t over-saturate the images, which is why I like them.”

A few more pictures from Christmas, where the two of you had set up a pillow fort — it had always been a childhood dream of yours — and stayed in watching movies for three whole days because it was too cold to do anything that required leaving the house. Funnily enough though, you had spent New Year’s Eve out in the cold with a few thousand others, waiting for the annual fireworks. There were a few shots of those as well. 

You neared the bottom of the stack, recognising the blur of colours that formed the crowd of the jazz festival from last year.

“All of these are out of focus,” you complained, a pout adorning your lips. The shots of the stage, of the artists, even the one of Jaehyun and the cute face he made trying to fit the burger in his mouth. Only the two pictures of you were crisply defined, because he had taken them. 

You flipped to the last photo. It was the one you took at the end of the show, during the closing bars of Lauv’s set. Miraculously, this one was in focus. You could see the press of your cheek against Jaehyun’s, and the slight surprise in his eyes as you had clicked the shutter. Lauv was nowhere to be seen, but maybe a clear shot of him as well would have been asking for too much. 

“Can I say something cheesy?” Jaehyun asked softly. 

“You’ll say it anyway.”

“I really wanted to kiss you. On this day.”

Strange, that it was these words which brought heat to your cheeks. Surely there were other things that would be more appropriate to blush about, instead of a months-late admission that was degrees more innocent than your current situation, where Jaehyun’s shirt was half undone, and the fabric of your dress was bunched up around your hips. 

“I wanted to kiss you right there, in the crowd. And then I wanted to kiss you again, here, when you made that stupid ramen joke. And when you had that chilli flake stuck on the corner of your mouth.”

You set the last photo down on the counter and turned back to Jaehyun, who was still standing between your knees. 

“And how about now?” you asked, the corners of your mouth lifting in a teasing smile. 

He cradled your chin, tilting your face towards his, and let the pad of his thumb brush over the swell of your bottom lip. 

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

The crescent moon was high and luminescent in the sky when you caught your breath again, the last few waves of euphoria ebbing away through your body. Jaehyun always indulged you.

Maybe a little too much. 

You turned to him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of soap and his skin. A finger lazily traced over the ridges of his stomach. 

“That tickles,” he mumbled into your hair. It must’ve still been damp from the shower, but he didn’t seem to mind. Fatigue was already tugging away at him. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, looking up at him. 

He shook his head, just slightly. “I like knowing you’re there.”

You resumed your movements, but it was only a few seconds before Jaehyun was shifting, soft laughs filling the intimate space of his bedroom.  

“That really does tickle,” he said, smile threaded into his voice. One of his hands reached for yours, pulling it up to rest against his chest. The gentle press of his lips on your forehead was a delicate thing. 

You fell asleep like that, feeling the steady beat of his heart, quiet and sure beneath your fingertips. It was warm in his hold, and safe. There was no other home you needed to know.

[lunarsilver]

What are their sexual fantasies?

+18, minors do not interact

A reading regarding your partner - your current one (asking about their permission would be in good taste), or next one, or the most important one, or your future spouse... Whatever you prefer.

(Psst! I will be grateful for your answer to a simple question.)

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2 ~ 3

PILE 1

Six of Swords - Strength (R) - Three of Wands (R) - Back of the Deck: Knight of Swords (R)

Six of Swords literally fell out as I was shuffling, which suggests to me this one is pretty important. Six of Swords is about change, leaving something behind and going on new endeavors. It looks like they’re really eager to try something new, maybe their earlier experience with intimacy wasn’t the best for them. Then we have Strength in reverse which seems to confirm that they felt or feel kind of trapped, and they fantasize about lashing out their raw emotions. The deck I use does not have a sexual theme, but this specific card has one of the most sensual imagery among all the cards in this deck: a woman, full of confidence, poses in just heels and lower underwear, a bra tossed aside. She’s very flexible and has a snake tattoo on her leg. I think your person wishes to be so flexible and confident in their body. The imagery brings a strip club or a sexy dance for a partner to my mind, and while there is a chance your person would like to see someone doing this kind of act (I guess going to a club like this would fit the theme of trying something new), for most this card is simply about having the courage to embrace one’s body and desires. Reversed Three of Wands says this person experiences some delays, some problems on their way to express themselves, and this leads to frustration. Knight of Swords in reverse confirms that. Your person is pretty frustrated sexually, and for some reason is unable to take action. As a side note, both Six of Swords and Knight of Swords in this deck show swords, so maybe some people here would like to try knife play? What’s interesting is that, in the way they lie now, all these swords point in the same direction, but what is exactly this direction? That’s unclear. Let’s pick up some more cards.

I asked for the reason why your person cannot fulfill themselves sexually and why they feel frustrated, and the cards are Seven of Swords (R), King of Cups, The Tower (R) and at the back there is Six of Cups. To put it short, it looks like they have this mental blockage. They may feel like they aren’t worthy of it, or it simply doesn’t fit them. For some, they grew up taught to think about sexuality as something shameful. I think the King of Cups represents them, and if so, they look really lovely and in tune with their emotions. They are at the start of their personal transformation and rediscovering what they like. No specific fantasies came here in this reading, other than the desire to have the courage to try to do what they are or may be into. It could be good to create a safe space for them, tell them that if they want to try something, you may always discuss it together. Whether you’ll actually do it is another matter, but letting them know having sexual desires isn’t shameful is pretty important here.

PILE 2

The Tower (R) - The Hierophant (R) - Two of Wands (R) - Three of Cups - Back of the Deck: Knight of Wands

Only after I realized I pulled four cards instead of three, I guess they have a lot to say lol. We’re starting with The Tower in reverse, so your person wants some inner change. The Hierophant in reverse is about questioning the rules, about freedom. Your person fantasizes about exploring, most likely about doing some kinky stuff. They’re excited about it, they want to do it, but they’re not ready and lack a proper plan or preparation (Two of Wands in reverse). However, it is clear they fantasize about celebrating their and their partner(s) bodies, treating sex as fun, as shown in Three of Cups. For some, Three of Cups suggests them fantasizing about threesomes. A side note, but a lot of cards show some pets, some on a leash, and I cannot help but wonder whether your person fantasizes about some kind of pet play. I think the reversed Knight of Wands at the back represents your person: impulsive, ready to action, fiery and with high libido, but probably they should do some research first. I felt like pulling some charms, asking what this person has to tell you, and the messages are “it will be better”, “I am with you”, “you are a master” (or maybe they want to say you are their master; whether “the master of their heart” or a master as in a BDSM dynamic - I feel like for quite a lot of you, pile 2, your person is a proud bottom, maybe a power bottom or a little a brat lol), “do what you love”, “you can count on me” and “fresh perspective”.

PILE 3

Ten of Cups - The Empress - Knight of Cups - Back of the Deck: The Magician

Okay, all upright, three out of four cards show people, two Major Arcana and two cards of Cups, plus three out of four cards are mainly pink and red. This person knows what they want and they like to be as clear as possible, they’re emotional and aren’t ashamed of it, that’s what I get right off the bat. Ten of Cups shows they’re pretty romantic, they fantasize about an ideal, fulfilling, committed relationship. The Empress and Knight of Cups represent you and this person - and I feel like for most of you, you are represented by the Empress and they are Knight of Cups, given how romantic and emotional Knight of Cups is, and how romantic is your person. The Empress and Knight of Cups look at each other from their respective cards. They look tenderly, smiling a little, and their eyes are on the same level. This person clearly fantasizes about an equal relationship, where at the same time they can adore you and spoil you. The Magician at the back suggests they manifest this relationship. Like, your person is so sweet, I asked about sexual fantasies and all that came out is that they want love. As an afterthought, the Empress is the only card having different colors than the rest, which only further proves the rest of cards is their energy and the Empress is you. I asked for some messages from your person to you and pulled out these charms: “I’ve been looking for you everywhere :*”, “I love your smile”, “something nice will happen to you”, “it makes me want to live”.

[cupidsdolll]

The Feeling Came Late (I’m Still Glad I Met You)

pairings: grumpy!college student! Harry x fem! sunshine!reader

summary: Harry hates Y/N, it seems like it's been like that forever. He's quick to insult and correct her even when she's right, he's just always been the only one to pick on her no matter what she does. She doesn't understand why it's like this between them or what she did to make him dislike her so much, but what if it's all just a lie?

overall warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, sexual tension, kind of enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol consumption and drug mentions, foul language, Harry is a major asshole in this tbh, heavy on the grumpy x sunshine in this.

chapter 2/? (wc: 3.4k)

masterlist

001 | 01 | 02

- - - -

Chapter 2: Surprise, Surprise

Harry wakes up to the sound of his phone dinging and he grumbles as he sits up and stretches. He looks around and stops his tired gaze at the small window next to his bed. It's dark with just a hint of sunlight beginning to cut through the glass windows, this is definitely not the scenery he's used to when he awakes from his slumber. Groggily he grabs his phone with one hand and rubs his left eye with the other, turns on the phone and hisses as he squints. 

He quickly turns the brightness of the screen down to a manageable setting and mumbles under his breath when he sees it's a little past six in the morning. 

"Who the fuck is awake right now and why are they trying to talk to me. Someone better be fucking dying." The message is from an unknown number, the numbers staring at him tauntingly. 

///

Unknown: hey. it's y/n. i got your number from principal Oscar. lmk whenever works best for you and i'll do my best to arrange my schedule otherwise! :)

— — — 

He grumbles once more about the timing of the text and stares at the screen trying to think of an appropriate response. He could and absolutely wants to just leave her on read and never talk to her again. That seems like the most appropriate since she interrupted his sleep, why is she even up this early? But maybe he should show a sliver of compassion and reply to the text briefly before going back to sleep. 

He decides on not texting back, simply because all this thinking of replying, responses and times is making his head hurt, so he sets his phone back onto the small wooden table beside his bed and clambers back into the warm cocoon of his blankets. Wrapping himself  in the thick blanket, he sighs blissfully as his head relaxes into the soft cushiony bed. He begins to close his eyes and go back to sleep, the pleasant warm feeling of sleep very quickly approaching him. 

Just as soon as he gets comfortable and almost falls asleep, his phone dings once more. He grumbles as he throws the blanket off of him and grabs his phone once again. The same numbers teasing him as another text comes through. 

///

Unknown: this is harry right? i'm so sorry if this isn't! 

////

He rolls his eyes as he mumbles, his fingers typing away on the keyboard as he sends his response. 

Harry: Yes, it's me. In case you haven't noticed, it's five in the morning. I was asleep.

///

He gets a response almost immediately, as if she was staying in the chat waiting for a response.

Unknown: yes i know! why are you still sleep? i like to get my day started early!

Harry: Because no one in their right mind is up this early.

Unknown: sorry for waking you! just wanted to see what times and days work best for you. :)

Harry: Give me a couple hours.

Unknown: okay! have a good nap! :)

— — — 

He mumbles again as he sets his phone grumpily back on the table, wrapping himself back into his blanket just to find it's not as warm anymore. He mutters under his breath, silently complaining about her up so early and choosing to annoy him so early as well, and to top it off she made him lose the warmth of his blankets. He wraps himself up in the blanket and lays back down, resting his head on the soft pillow as he closes his eyes. 

Opening his eyes once more a couple hours later, he gets up and stretches once again. The muscles in his back pops smoothly and he groans softly. He gets out of his bed and quickly makes his bed,  wrinkles sit in the middle of the blanket as he sets his pillow on top, but he can’t bring himself to care. He feels much better after getting another couple hours of sleep. 

He heads into the bathroom and relieves his bladder, sighing in relief as it empties. Shutting the lid down, he flushes the toilet and heads to the sink so he can wash his hands. After he's finished, he brushes his hair and puts it in a man bun.

Walking over to the small dresser where he keeps his clothes, he opens his needed drawers and pulls out an outfit. Settling on a white Rolling Stones t-shirt and some black skinny jeans, he gets dressed and makes sure he puts on his signature rings. Once he's done with that, he sprays his Tom Ford cologne and grabs his phone, responding to the very few notifications he does have and stares at Y/N's name in his message list. 

Her simple text stares at him, somehow politely demanding a response from a couple hours ago. He huffs and mutters 'fucks sake' under his breath as he clicks on it and begins to type out his response.

///

Harry: I'm available anytime

/// 

Not too long after, just long enough for him to set his phone in his pocket and slip on his brown Chelsea boots, his phone dings. 

///

Y/N: okay! um how about tomorrow around 6 at the library?

— — — 

Harry laughs dryly at her enthusiasm as he sends a plain thumbs up, the yellow emoji a stark contrast in the very one sided text conversation, and afterwards he heads out the small bedroom in his dorm and heads to the front door. He passes the various pictures of his roommate and his girlfriend and a couple of pictures showcasing his orange kitten, Delilah, in various moments. She was wrapped up in a soft towel from the day Harry brought her home, and other moments where he thought she looked pretty and decided to capture the moment. 

All the pictures are neatly hung in a long cardboard frame, colorful tacks adding a pop of color to the otherwise boring wall of pictures. The small hallway leads to a basic living room, a simple gray futon sits alongside the cream colored wall with a modern artistic sketch hanging above it, a dark brown bookshelf holding all their movies and the very few books and textbooks they happen to own is placed next to the futon, and a small dresser underneath a decently sized tv. 

In the corner of the living room area sits a small gray cat bed and Delilah lays there peacefully sleeping in a little ball, her tail twitching occasionally. The ends of Harry's lips begin to curl upwards at the sight as he slowly walks over to the small dresser designated just for her. He silently opens the top drawer and opens the small can containing her food. The smell quickly floods his nose and he grimaces as he walks over to her food bowl and pouring it in there, silently gagging as it squelches into the bowl. 

He throws away the now empty can in the small trash can and grabs her water bowl walking over to the dresser once again and fills it with a small water bottle sitting in the top drawer. He sets it down beside the food one carefully because he doesn't feel like cleaning up water right now and walks back to the dresser. He opens the second one and grabs a few of her favorite toys and sets them under the coffee table in the living room, allowing her something to do while he's gone and turns on the tv. Quickly pulling up her favorite tv show - Animal Planet - he walks over to her and very gently rubs the top of her head. He coos at her softly to coax the sleepy kitten awake. 

Delilah stretches and yawns as she opens her eyes, focusing on Harry crouching above her, she lets out a tired but happy meow as she nuzzles her face into Harry's hand. 

"Good morning, sweet girl. I gotta get to school but you got everything set up for you, just how you like. I love you and I'll be back soon." He says with a small laugh as he gives the small kitten a couple extra pets and gets back up, stretching slightly as he heads to the door, making sure to grab his signature leather jacket from the futon as he opens the door and heads out. 

— — — 

It doesn't take him long to head to the campus thanks to his dorm being a short drive from the campus. He parks his car in an empty space nearest the school and he sits in the car after he turns it off. He watches her as she walks to the bike rack, her long hair flowing gently behind her as she walks due to the wind blowing. She's dressed in an olive green sweater and dark blue Levi pants that flare at the end, she'd pair it with some white Nike Air Forces, a medium sized white tote bag and a matching olive green thin belt, he can see the small shimmer of her jewelry shine when the sun hits it as she ties her bike to the small rack. 

He turns the key to shut off his car and opens the door, slowly stepping outside the car as he puts on his jacket. He closes the door with a soft slam and locks it, the beep alerting the girl as she turns around, her hair briefly swishing in front of her face as she turns. He watches as she frowns in anticipation of a snarky remark but returns to normal when it doesn't happen. He slowly makes his way to the entrance, purposely avoiding eye contact with her as he grows closer. He hopes she gets the hint to leave him the hell alone, and wants to keep their interactions to an absolute minimum. 

"Hey!" He hears her voice ring out from behind her but his pace doesn't falter, he actually starts walking just a tad bit faster in an attempt to get inside before she reaches him. He makes it to the top of the steps before he feels a soft hand grip his shoulder and a tug, signaling him to turn around. He slowly turns around, face deadpanned and he takes a deep breath. 

"What?" 

"Any place specific you want to meet in the library?" She asks softly and he shakes his head as he turns around swiftly and starts his journey into the school once again. He can feel her presence behind him and his frown begins to form. 

He chooses to ignore her as they walk, the chatter of the other students in the hall filling their ears as they continue. One of Harry's friends, Alex, walks up to Harry with a big smile as he pays his shoulder and glares at Y/N. 

"How you doin' Haz?" He asks and Harry's frown only deepens at the unwanted conversation. 

"Not now Alex." He shakes his head as he heads to his locker. He can hear Alex scoff as he walks away but he can still feel her presence behind him. 

He scoffs lightly as he gets to his locker, one ringed hand reaching up to twist the little knob to the correct numbers and opens the door. He quickly grabs a textbook and slams it shut and he walks away, leaving a hurt and confused Y/N standing at the locker. 

— — — 

She can't help but frown at Harry's more than usual grumpy behavior as she heads to her own locker, true enough she was the main reason why he's so grumpy but honestly how was she to know he’d still be sleeping? It’s not her fault that she just loves helping people! She should know better than to assume they'd be friends simply because she's tutoring him, but she assumed they'd at least be better than this. She hoped he would be somewhat tolerable, a very silly thought of hers because when is he ever tolerable? She doesn’t know how it came to be this way. She can remember a time where the two of them were cordial and even dared to say the best of friends, but then something changed and she wishes she knew what it was.

She wishes she could just go back in time and watch the two of them under a microscope to see what went wrong, to figure out why he hates her. She misses him terribly, but that’s kept locked away in a box of her feelings and emotions never to be seen again alongside her favorite childhood memories. 

She huffs in frustration when she can't get the lock to open, her combination not seeming to work as she twists and twists. She swears it's the right one, so she tries once more and she's met with once again the lock not opening. 

"Come on!" She huffs as she stares at the lock intently. Beginning to think that maybe she changed the lock combination, she tries a different sequence of the same numbers and after a couple of tries she finally hears the satisfying click as the lock opens. 

She quickly grabs the textbooks for her first two classes and shuts it gently as she walks to her first class, her tote bag gently bouncing off her hip as she walks. She just barely makes it to her first class before the teacher closes the door, her hand pushing on the tall wooden door as she cries out 'wait please!' The door opens and she sees the teacher smile softly as he lets her in. 

"Just in time Y/N, have a seat." He says and she nods silently, with her head down she quietly makes her way over to an empty seat towards the back of the class. Grabbing her notebook and a pen out of her bag, she begins to write down the title of the notes she's gonna be taking and pulls her assignment due from the front of the notebook as well. 

— — — 

Time seems to fly in front of her eyes, the day taking not nearly as long as it usually feels like as she gets released from her last class of the day. With a smile on her face, she plugs her earbuds in her phone as she walks through the halls, stopping briefly to answer any questions from her classmates and to wave goodbye to her teachers. 

She spots Harry talking to a pretty brunette, one of more popular girls who also happens to be on the cheerleading team she thinks, her lips pulled back into a dazzling smile as she twirls her hair around her finger as she speaks. Hesitantly, she makes her way over and taps him on the shoulder, meekly saying 'excuse me' and she's greeted with a very nasty glare from the girl. 

"Um, we're talking." The girl says with a frown on her face. Y/N can't help the flush of embarrassment that begins to heat her cheeks up as she looks down. 

"I'm sorry, I just wanted to remind Harry of the library. It's at six, if you can't make it or gonna be late, just let me know." Y/N's voice comes out quietly as she speaks, her hands subconsciously moving to her front as she begins to play with her fingers. 

Harry lets out a very unenthusiastic 'uh huh' as his eyes never leave the brunette's and he begins to talk to her once more, completely ignoring the other girl behind him as the brunette smirks and plays with the collar of his t-shirt. When she realizes that he isn't paying attention, she frowns slightly before making her way out of the school building as music plays in her ears. 

She mumbles curses to Harry under her breath as she unties her bike and sets the cord in her bag. Hopping on her bike, she begins her ride back to her apartment. She smiles as she passes the cars and families out and about, their joy and love radiating off of them making her smile and aw. As she continues biking, she makes a quick stop at her favorite flower shop, propping her bike against the side of the store and she quickly walks in. The smell of all the flowers welcome her warmly as well as the bright smile of the lady standing behind the counter. 

"Y/N! So good to see you! How've you been?" She asks and Y/N smiles as she walks up to the counter. 

"Hi Tameka! I'm good, how are you?" Y/N asks and Tameka responds with great enthusiasm as she starts telling the younger girl about her kids and how the store's been getting along. 

Y/N loves coming to this flower shop because no matter how long she stays away, she's always greeted with a warm welcome, one that reminds her of her mother at a young age. The shop gives her a sense of family no matter what happens, and she's never been more grateful. After Tameka finishes rambling on about her life, she turns her attention to the younger girl as she props her head onto folded manicured hands and flashes her a warm smile. 

"Here to get the usuals? Anything new to update me on chica?" Y/N shakes her head with a small laugh as she leans on the counter. 

"Of course, you know I never stray. And no new updates unless you count having to tutor the boy who seems to hate my existence an update." She says and sighs, the thought of having to do so is a big damper on her happiness and a heavy weight on her heart — it’s not that she doesn’t want to tutor him, she just knows that it’ll be like pulling teeth with him. She’ll have to pry answers out of him and will more than likely be the worst tutoring session ever, she’ll be exhausted afterwards. 

She can't help but to wonder how it'll go, will he be the same as he is in school? Is he gonna spend the whole time mocking her and poking fun (he most definitely will, she’s sure of it. He won’t turn down an opportunity to annoy her and get under her skin), or will he be kind and listen to her (maybe in another universe, some alternate reality where they’re cordial. She’s silly to even think this was a suggestion, she should know him by now), asking questions whenever he's confused? Will the session end in a screaming match as he tests her limits or will it be calm as he complies and agrees to her help. 

As she pays for her flowers, she can't help but to ask herself those questions. She knows wondering won't help determine the outcome of the coming day, but she knows there's only one way to find out.

She makes her way home, her bouquet of flowers sitting neatly in her tote bag as she rides along. She takes pleasure in the feeling of the wind brushing against her skin and flowing through her hair as she pedals along. The sound of people chatting on the sidewalks and the sound of cars whirring by her and honking at others fill her ear and she just smiles. She enjoys the sound of her community while others might say that it’s too loud and there’s no peace in all of the noise, she says otherwise. She can’t imagine her city in silence, to not listen to the usual sound because it’s all she knows. 

She makes it home and parks her bike beside her apartment, tying it up and making it inside the building. She heads down the short hall and to her door, unlocking it and walks inside and smiles at the sereneness of her own space. She locks the door behind her and sits down on the couch with her notebook and her favorite pen, thinking of the best way to carry out these sessions with Harry. What would be the best approach and everything to do with it. She wants to make sure that he understands that she’s not going to allow him to just walk all over her and cheat his way through. 

She wants to actually help him, not just give him what he wants; she wants to give him what he needs and what he needs is someone to take time out of their day and work with him, cater the worksheets and lessons to how he learns best so he can actually learn the information. She can only hope for the best as she begins to write out a plan for the next few weeks, she just knows that she’s going to need all the luck dealing with Harry.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 2

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1

There’s a note in Eddie’s locker. It flutters down to the dirty linoleum when he opens it to try and find his missing Biology textbook. He stares down at it, perplexed, until Jeff bends down to pick it up.

“Hey!” Eddie cries, snatching it out of his hand. “That’s mine!”

“Whatever, dude,” Jeff replies, leaning back into the closed locker beside Eddie’s and crossing his arms.

Eddie pays him no mind, too busy unfolding the note and bending over it to read.

He reads it again. And again. And again, each pass over the sign-off making his cheeks feel hotter.

It’s not like Eddie’s a stranger to getting notes in his locker, but they’re usually death threats. Or requests for drugs. Not…not this.

“What’s it say?” Jeff asks, breaking him from his shocked reverie.

“Nothing!” Eddie shrieks loudly enough that multiple heads turn to scowl at them. Eddie hastily stuffs the note into his pocket, and smiles at Jeff. “Let’s go get lunch, huh?”

Jeff squints at him suspiciously.

Eddie, in a desperate bid to distract him, starts rambling about this week’s campaign. It seems to work. By the time they’re settled in with matching shitty lunches, Jeff’s wheedling him for information on the next big bad instead of the note burning a hole in Eddie’s pocket.

It’s probably a joke, definitely a joke.

He finds himself combing the packed lunch tables anyway, looking for anything out of the ordinary, anyone paying more attention to him than usual. There’s nothing. Harrington’s letterman on a different girl, a few band geeks sitting closer together than usual, nothing else.

No one looks at him at all.

He gives it up as a bad job and forgets the note entirely until he finds a wet, pulpy mess in his pocket on his next laundry day.

A little part of Eddie mourns the only love note he’s likely ever to get, cruel prank or not.

But there’s another one there the following week. There’s an envelope this time–it’s light purple, his name written in a dark, careful black atop it.

He’s alone at his locker, no nosy friends to wheedle it out of him, but the hallway is full of other students rushing to make it to their next class, so he presses it carefully into his monster manual and bides his time.

He wants to wait until he’s in the privacy of his own home to open it. Eddie barely makes it to his van after school before he’s collapsing into the relative privacy of the windowless back and tearing through his backpack like a rabid dog.

He tries to be more careful with the envelope. But it’s sealed, and his prodding fingers tear it open in jagged lines.

That same light blue paper is nestled inside. He slips it out and unfolds it to read in the dank recesses of his parked van.

  Eddie –

  You always look so happy when you’re with your friends. I like the way your dimples always seem to peek out no matter how small your smile is. The big ones are my favorite, when you’re jumping up on the cafeteria table with all your teeth showing.

  You didn’t jump up on any tables last week. Was that because of me?

  You seemed upset after I gave you my letter. Do you even want me to write these? I don’t want to be a bother. If you do, maybe you could write back? Leave your reply in the back of the WXYZ encyclopedia, no one ever uses that one.

  If you don’t reply, then I won’t bother you anymore, okay?

  Yours, always,

  Your Secret Admirer

It could still be a joke. Eddie wouldn’t put it past some of the jocks in the school to put their girlfriends up to a long-con. Still, his heart’s fluttering like there’s a bird stuffed in there trying to get out.

It could be a joke. But Eddie’s already mentally picking out stationary and pondering word choices. There will be a letter tucked into the designated encyclopedia come tomorrow morning.

Eddie’s got a maiden to woo.

*** 

“What if he doesn’t respond?” Steve hisses in Chrissy’s ear.

She bats him away, which doesn’t seem like very good girlfriend behavior to Steve, but what does he know? He’s had exactly one real girlfriend, and she’d ditched him for another guy within the year.

“He’ll respond,” Chrissy whispers back, soothing his anxiety with a gentle pat to his shoulders.

The library’s not as empty as it was the last few times. Steve feels his heartbeat kick up every time someone looks up from their coursework and glances their way. At this rate, all his hair’s going to turn gray, ruining his best feature well before there’s even a flicker of a chance to kiss Eddie Munson on the lips.

“Why did we pick the library?” Steve asks.

Chrissy pauses in front of the bookcase holding the damning shelf of encyclopedias. She raises her eyebrow at him and asks, “what, you’d prefer the boy’s bathroom?” drolly.

“I remember when I thought you were nice,” Steve mutters quietly enough that he hopes she can’t hear him. By the way she rolls her eyes, he has no such luck.

Then, without further prompting, she bends down and pulls the WXYZ encyclopedia off the shelf. Steve’s heartbeat ratchets up as he peers over her crouched head and watches her dainty hand flip the cover open. There, tucked between the front board and the cover page, is a crisply folded piece of paper clearly ripped carelessly out of someone’s notebook.

Steve doesn’t care; he’d still open it if it was written on a used piece of toilet paper.

He reaches down past where Chrissy is still crouched to retrieve the note, but just like before, she slaps his hand back.

“Chrissy!”

She doesn’t respond, just plucks the note and slides the encyclopedia back into its place. Once standing, she links her arm with his, running soothing fingers up and down his forearm even as she pulls him along toward the back of the library.

She pushes him down into a vacant chair with deceptively strong arms; he always forgets how difficult cheerleading must be. Once he’s slumped into his own chair, she pulls the one across the table to his side and seats herself primly on it, legs crossed at her thighs.

Only then does she unfold the note and lay it gently on the table in front of him.

       Secret Admirer,

       I don’t know if this is a prank or if you genuinely like me, so I’m not really sure what to say. No one’s ever had a crush on me before, at least that I know of.  

       I didn’t know my hair was nice. My uncle keeps trying to get me to cut it. One time I brushed it and it was so poofy I wore a bandanna until I washed it again. But you probably didn’t need to know that. I’m glad you like it though.

       The paper you picked is really pretty, and I can smell the perfume you sprayed on the envelope. Fresh flowers in the spring, or a sunny day.

       –Eddie

       P.S. You can keep writing. Your notes have been the best part of my days, and I hope mine will be for you, too.

Steve reads it over and over again. Eddie’s handwriting is spiky, but carefully rendered to be readable. The post script takes a little more squinting at the page, letters and words crowding over one another like he’d added it at the last minute.

From the few classes they’ve shared, a small part of Steve was worried he wouldn’t be able to read it at all. But, no, Eddie’d taken the time to smooth out each letter, even while half convinced this was a prank. And the bit about his Uncle and his poofy hair? Adorable.

Steve brushes his fingers reverently over the words, half afraid they’ll smudge beneath his fingers. His face aches from the force of his smile.

“What should I say back?” Steve asks, looking up at Chrissy, feeling manic, hopeful, brave. Only then does he notice her carefully averted gaze, the way her body is turned just slightly away. He pushes the page toward her. “Come on, Chris, read it.”

She leans back toward him, smiling as she readjusts her body in a better position to read. “I didn’t want to presume.”

“Aren’t couples supposed to share?” Steve asks, because even when he’s happy enough to beam light straight out of his pores, he’s fundamentally a bitch.

Chrissy doesn’t respond, already too absorbed in Eddie’s words to pay him any attention, not that he can blame her. Steve waits, bursting with stupid, tender feelings until she’s read the thing through and put the page back on the table, placed perfectly between them.

“So, what should I say?” Steve asks.

Chrissy, never one to make things easy on him, starts the way she’s started every other letter-writing session so far: “What do you want to say?”

*** 

The letter her and Steve had written together is in her bag, Steve understandably too fearful to carry it himself. She’d taken it home, used her nicer stationery and a decorative envelope because, as Steve had pointed out repeatedly, Eddie’d seemed to appreciate how pretty the last letter was.

He’d sounded almost wretched when he said it, like proof that Eddie liked the pretty embellishments she’d put on his words was all he’d needed to know that his feelings would never be reciprocated.

She hadn’t known what to say.

So, she’d taken it home, gussied it up, and brought it back to the school, waiting for an opportune moment to push it through the slats of Eddie’s locker.

Steve’s been walking her to class and to lunch, playing the dutiful boyfriend up. She likes it, all this time with him.

He’s the best boyfriend she’s ever had.

Jason, his only competition for the title, has looked more and more pinch-faced every time they’ve crossed paths. She wishes, almost, that he’d yell at her, hit her, do something. It feels like waiting for a bomb to blow.

It’s not a surprise when the explosion finally hits.

“Are you serious, Chrissy?” Jason asks, and she spins, heartbeat rabbiting in her chest to find him storming toward her. And there’s a look on his face that she’s never seen before–not even when they’d broken up that first time.

His eyes are hard, mouth open like he’s one second away from shouting, and as he speaks, both his fists clench as he steps toward her. She can’t help the way she stumbles back into Steve, feeling comforted as his arm comes out to steady her.

“You replaced me with him?” and he sneers that last word, like Steve’s gum he’s scraping off his shoe.

Jason used to go on and on about Steve back in their Freshman year, before whatever the hell that had happened with Nancy Wheeler had mellowed him out. Before that, he’d been the unmitigated king. King of the keg stand, sure, but king of the court, king of the cafeteria, king of them all, and Jason had deferred to him.

But after, as Steve closed in on himself–Carol and Tommy still distant placeholders at his sides– Jason hadn’t talked about him anymore. Like he was infected now, and whatever he had might be spreading.

Chrissy'd only liked Steve more.

So, she shores herself up with the pressure of Steve’s arm on her back and points a shaking finger directly into Jason’s enraged face. “We broke up, Jason Carver,” she says, surprised when her voice doesn’t even crack. “It’s none of your business who I see.”

Jason’s mouth hangs open, clearly shocked, and a small part of Chrissy aches for how it was before. She always thought they’d be those high school sweethearts who got married right out of college. They’d just fit, or she thought they had.

He used to be nicer, sweet almost, in the way he’d talk to her.

It’d been a long time since Chrissy would classify any of the words coming out of his mouth as sweet.

Jason’s looking between them, eyes wide, something hurt leeching in past all that anger as he says, “you’ll come back,” in such quiet assurance that it makes her gut twist.

Chrissy watches him turn and walk away, stuck in the moment, until Steve squeezes her waist and asks, “are you alright, babe?”

It’s only with the word “babe” falling out of Steve’s lips that she realizes they’ve attracted an audience. So, she smiles like she’s leading a cheer for all to see, looks up into Steve’s eyes and replies, “never better.”

They continue on their way into lunch.

Once there, she eats as Steve watches Eddie’s latest table-top rant with hearts in his eyes big enough to see from the moon. Like he hadn’t given an almost identical one the week before. Steve doesn’t seem to mind. He’s transfixed, like Eddie’s a succubus and Steve’s stuck in his thrall. Until she elbows him in the side and he goes back to his lunch after shooting her a wounded look.

Boys in love are stupid creatures, and she’s willing to do whatever it takes to protect this one, even if it’s just from himself.

[sugar-grigri]

CSM 182 : snow or the power of forgetting

the snow, eaten by CSM recently, forgotten

the snow, the illusion that lulled Aki in his last moments

the snow, chapter 182, where you finally put the pieces together

what does snow mean ?

What if I told you that Denji's reaction to Yoru's ambivalence was the wrong one ?

I'm not talking from a moral point of view, but purely from a narrative one.

What does Yoru actually do by threatening and kissing him ?

It leads to ambivalence, to a striking contrast that is unbearable.

But life is nothing other than this same diluted contrast, this mixture of negative and positive constantly associated.

When Denji says he can't master these two facets, these dirty tricks and all the problems he has to face, that's precisely what has become his worry.

splitting himself, splitting his surroundings, seeing obstacles as ultimatums.

All this may seem off-the-wall and crazy, or like an analysis to justify Yoru's behaviour.

It isn't.

Don't see his kiss as a kiss, but as a narrative perch for Denji to finally face up to himself

Why ?

Dirty things are what he's always hoped for, they seemed in essence extremely positive, they were the way out of his misfortunes

For Denji, doing dirty things inevitably led to happiness.

Denji gradually realises, thanks to several female characters, that these dirty things are not all positive.

You might think that Denji really took his time to realise this...

But it's far from easy for him; for him, life was a deep unhappiness, always, with no prospect of happiness

Or rather, he couldn't see happiness

Because his conception of happiness was restricted to those dirty things

Pochita, Aki, Power, Nayuta, Denji realised his own unhappiness after their disappearance, he only realised the presence of happiness through his loss

Because he hadn't done anything dirty until now!

Until the end of part 1, Denji is trying to rethink his vision of happiness and is trying to break away from normality, to raise his standards higher: eating steak, 10 girlfriends.

Even though he has come close to happiness, Denji doesn't realise it, because since that happiness wasn't eternal, it wasn't happiness.

Happiness remains a way out for him.

Tasting his definition of happiness, being kissed by Yoru, makes him realise that happiness has lost its meaning.

With each kiss, Denji realises that it won't bring him happiness, because it doesn't make him happy.

Little by little, Denji tries to get closer to something for the long term, not the moment.

That's why, he asks if "Asa" loves him.

Can he finally taste that unchanging happiness? Never taste unhappiness again ?

Asa is his downside, her intrusive thoughts, her internal panics, her reflections are preventing her from living in the moment.

And she doesn't want to live in the moment, because she doesn't trust her instincts (when for Denji they are a way out).

Her instincts led her to save a cat, causing the sacrifice of her mother.

But it was Chainsaw Man who made her realise that life can be excruciatingly bitter and sometimes sweet.

Inhabited by Denji, who is as lost.

How could Denji say something as right as that crap burger if he's lost too ? Life is disgusting, it's tiring and yet we keep eating this burger, thinking of dogs, cats and ice cream.

Because Denji didn't do it.

It's Denji perfectly fused with Pochita.

CHAINSAW MAN.

A double being, symbolically realising the ambivalence of life.

Denji was Pochita's happiness, hence her sacrifice.

Pochita was Denji's happiness, hence his unhappiness.

The constant association of happiness with unhappiness - after all, that's all Denji and Pochita's meeting is about.

Except that at that moment, Denji had come to the wrong conclusion, talking about sex, hence the feeling of unease, and a sense of rupture in his speech. The hope of supreme happiness makes us eat this crap burger, it's true. But it won't make us happy.

What Yoru shows, even though he's part of Asa, is that the concept of happiness and unhappiness make no sense to a devil ; they instrumentalizes them, doesn't understand them.

So she gets hit by Asa because, damn it, this concept of happiness and unhappiness belongs to men.

So Asa takes over and says she hasn't recovered from her mother's death because this event will always seem so unacceptable and horrible to her. Bad things don't disappear.

What changes is the memories we want to bring to the fore.

Snow.

Symbolising Denji's supreme misfortune of having killed his brother to the point of vomiting with guilt.

Symbolically, it is this same vomiting that spits out the snow.

The snow is not just a trauma.

Aki was obsessed by the memory of the tragedy of his family, who were also killed in snowy weather.

And when Aki decides to visit his family's graves, to pay his respects tragically at his family's graves

He can't do it

Because two idiots divert his attention.

Forcing Aki to look away from the unhappiness of the past

To face the happiness right in front of him.

What Aki realised just before his death was that he had never seen happiness, or rather he had chosen not to.

Because happiness isn't there to be found, it's there, it's just there to be looked at, plunged in a pile of shit but it's sometimes there, but we refuse to consider that this thing is happiness, we can hope for more, can't we?

You have to eat this crappy hamburger, even if it means throwing up.

This is the taste of happiness.

Back to the snow

Which you associate with Denji's sadness and Aki's death

Yet this snow fight is Aki's last happiness

Seeing that snow again, associated with that fateful day when he lost his family

Holding that snow in his hands, and playing with his little brother, a little brother he has found again

What if this scene wasn't something he had to endure, but a choice? Aki's choice not to see, the gun held to his eyes, the choice to lull himself into one last sweet illusion, one last bandage, one last cigarette, to escape from this reality that he had always stubbornly tried to face, to escape from it.

But Denji is crying at this point.

Happiness cannot be total happiness, it melts, like snow.

Unhappiness will always be diametrically opposed.

The fact remains that snow is this temporary oblivion, this misfortune that we take in our hands to make snowballs, this moment of fun condemned to melt, snow determines what we do with our misfortune and our happiness.

Snow represents what we decide to see.

It is the forgetting, or rather the silencing of painful memories.

To realize that the snow is cold is to realize the end of happiness, because you're not playing anymore.

I don't like playing snowball: I don't like pretending to be happy anyway.

These memories will not disappear, but we can choose not to see them too much

The snow will remain cold, it will be condemned to melt, it is this moment, what we do with this moment.

Because if it didn't melt, no life would develop

If happiness and unhappiness were not this constant ambivalence, this intermingling of happy and painful moments, if this ephemeral aspect did not exist

Then no life would exist.

When Denji vomits snow, it's because he realises once again the association between happiness and unhappiness that snow represents.

Disgusted by this sad reality too, of not seeing unchanging happiness, of seeing life not as a burger, but as a shit burger.

But the snow is beautiful and it won't stay.

Like these two.

[httpsdana]

heyyyyy, i love your work, please can you do where you’re pau cubarsi’s girlfriend and your a med student and take care of him after your injury xxxxx

Healing Touches~Pau Cubarsi

*Pictures are from Pinterest*

I found two requests that are basically the same so I'll just combine them. enjoy <3

request from here

master list -> part 2

players/drivers I write for

Pau laid on y/n's couch, his head resting on the armrest with a slight grimace, trying to act casual despite the fresh stitches along his jawline. The injury had happened during his last match, an unfortunate clash that had left him with ten stitches and y/n with a heart full of worry. He’d been patched up by the team doctors, but that didn’t stop her from fretting over him.

y/n sat beside him, brushing a careful hand along his uninjured cheek, studying the stitches with a concerned frown. “Does it hurt a lot, Pau?” she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

He gave her a lopsided smile, clearly trying to look unfazed. “cariño, it’s just a few stitches. Nothing I can’t handle,” he replied, attempting to shrug off her worry.

She shot him a gentle but stern look. “Pau, it’s ten stitches across your jaw. Don’t act like this is just a scratch,” she murmured, running her fingers lightly through his hair. “You need to rest, and I’ll make sure you do.”

Pau let out a small sigh, reaching up to take her hand in his. “I know you’re studying to be a doctor and all, but I’m pretty sure the team patched me up well enough,” he teased, giving her hand a light squeeze.

She leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Well, maybe they did, but I still want to take care of you. You got hurt, Pau, and that’s not something I’m just going to brush off.”

He shifted slightly, pulling her closer so she was leaning over him, a playful look glimmering in his eyes. “Fine, but only because you’re so cute when you’re in ‘doctor mode,’” he teased, his voice soft.

She rolled her eyes, unable to hold back a small smile. “Pau, I’m serious. Now, have you had any water? You need to stay hydrated for healing,” she scolded gently, reaching for the glass she'd brought him earlier.

He chuckled softly, the sound a little muffled by the stitches, and took the glass from her hand, making a show of drinking. “Happy?” he asked, giving her a little wink as he set the glass down.

“Not yet,” she replied, brushing her thumb lightly over the edge of his jaw, careful to avoid the stitches. “But we’ll get there.”

His hand reached up to cup hers, holding it against his cheek as he gazed up at her. “Thank you for taking care of me, amor. I know you’re busy with your studies and all…”

She shushed him softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss near the corner of his mouth. “You’re more important. Now, let me fuss over you, and stop trying to act like you don’t need it,” she whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair.

He grinned, a hint of mischief in his eyes despite his injury. “Guess I have no choice but to let my very cute, very smart med student girlfriend look after me,” he said, pulling her down into a warm hug, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

She relaxed into his embrace, careful to avoid his jaw but grateful to feel his warmth, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek. It always amazed her how Pau could be so calm and lighthearted, even with stitches on his face. But she knew he was doing it mostly for her, to keep her from worrying too much.

Pau’s fingers traced gentle circles on her back, and he tilted his head slightly, looking at her with that same adoring expression. “You know, amor,” he started, a teasing tone slipping in, “if I knew getting hurt would get me this much attention from you, I’d have gotten injured ages ago.”

She pulled back slightly, playfully swatting his arm. “Pau Cubarsi, don’t you dare joke about that! You better not even think about getting hurt again. I was so worried when I saw you all bloody and in pain ” she scolded, but her voice softened as she met his gaze, the affection in his eyes making her heart flutter.

He chuckled, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a feather-light kiss to your fingers. “I promise, I’m kidding,” he murmured, his thumb grazing her hand. “But I have to admit… I love this side of you, so caring and worried.”

“You make it sound like I’m never caring,” she replied, pouting slightly.

“No, no,” he laughed, pulling her back into his arms. “You’re always caring. But right now, it’s like you’re my personal nurse. I kind of like it.”

She sighed, resting her head against his shoulder. “Just let me take care of you, okay?” she whispered, feeling her voice soften. “I want you to be all healed and safe. now do you need me to get you something?”

Pau pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his voice tender. “I’m already feeling better just being with you, cariño, I don't need a thing” he murmured. “It’s like you’re my medicine.”

She felt a warmth rise to her cheeks, and she couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re so cheesy, you know that?”

“For you? Always,” he grinned, his hand moving to stroke her cheek. “Now, doctor, what’s my next treatment? I think it might involve lots of cuddles.”

y/n rolled her eyes, laughing as she pulled him close again. “Fine, but only because you need it.” she shifted carefully, lying beside him on the couch so he could rest his head on her shoulder. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck.

“See? This is the best medicine,” he murmured, his lips pressing light kisses along her collarbone.

y/n giggled, feeling his warm breath against her skin. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around,” she reminded him, trying to keep a serious tone but failing as she felt herself melt into his embrace.

“Then just let me hold you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “You’ve done enough, cariño. I’m okay now, really.”

She let out a sigh, relaxing in his arms, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her fingertips. “I love you, Pau,” she whispered, voice barely audible.

He tilted his head, his eyes meeting hers with a soft, heartfelt gaze. “I love you too, amor. And thank you… for always being here. You have no idea how much it means to me.”

His words made her heart swell, and she reached up to cup his face, bringing him close enough for a gentle, lingering kiss. His lips were soft against hers, the familiar warmth filling her with a comforting peace.

When she finally pulled back, Pau’s eyes were still closed, a content smile playing on his lips. “Now, that’s what I call the perfect remedy,” he murmured, his voice a sleepy whisper.

y/n chuckled softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Then get some rest, okay? Doctor’s orders.”

He opened one eye, giving her a playful smirk. “Only if you stay here with me, nurse.”

“Fine,” she whispered, settling into his arms and pressing one last kiss to his forehead.

She stayed close, feeling his breathing slow as he drifted into sleep, holding her tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

[missadangel]

The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x Reader)

All Chapters List

Chapter 12: The First Kill (WARNING BLOOD AND VIOLENCE)

Sic Semper Tyrannis

"Thus always to tyrants."

Brutus.

"You never forget your first kill," Marcus once said. One evening, you were sitting together in that meadow just after finished your knife training. "I've had to kill many, dozens, thousands. Some I felt no remorse for, some I thought they deserved it, some I felt pity for, but their faces are blurred in my memory in time. However, I could never forget the face of the first one. Although I was young, I remember it clearly, even now. For some time the silhouette of his face continued to torment me, even preventing me from using my sword properly.”

He took a deep breath as his fingers ran through your golden hair. “It's a peculiar thing, hard to overcome, right then and there, when you take his life, everything changes; the ground you walk on, the air you breathe, all of it becomes your enemy.”

As you looked at your own hands which were stained with blood and trembling, his words reverberated in your mind. You glanced at the man you had just killed, lying still on the ground. He was right. Everything has changed, and it will never be the same again.

Two days ago…

The atmosphere on Palatine Hill was one of palpable tension as the city awaited for the new dawn. You were trying to figure out the best way to extricate yourself from this troubling situation when you were involuntarily brought here by the guards, at the behest of your Emperor half-brother. Walking from the great courtyard into the great hall, accompanied by Flavius and two guards, you noticed that several soldiers were being forced to their knees by the guards. It appeared as though they were awaiting something or someone. They were attired in black cloaks over their armour, and you were uncertain as to why they were regarding you with concern. Might they be Marcus's men? Could this be the reason why he did not return home? Could he have been here too? As these questions continued to arise in your mind, you headed for the large door and entered as the guards opened it for you.

Once you had entered the great hall, the man called Flavius took his leave, accompanied by a few of his men, for some reason. You were not particularly curious about where he went, because the moment you saw Caracalla's face, your tension level spiked. You never thought that one day you would be judged by him in this hall. Caracalla stood in the centre, in his usual place, with Macrinus right next to him. What a surprise! You could imagine the strings he had woven around your brother, effectively turning him into a puppet. Geta and his mother Julia were on the left side of the hall. On the floor was the body of a slave, lifeless and bleeding, felt a chill run through you. You averted your gaze. As soon as he saw you, Geta uttered a silent curse and looked at his brother with a look of anger. “Really, brother? I told you, Aurelia has nothing to do with this!”

Caracalla stared at you, ignoring his brother. You swallowed when you realised he was holding the vial you had sent for Geta. He held it up as if he wanted you to see it. His face showed signs of fatigue and redness, which you knew could cause this kind of effect.

You were trying to stay calm. But your eyes kept drifting to the body of the poor slave on the floor. Caracalla noticed. “Oh, forgive us for starting without you.” He laughed like a madman.

“I have to tell you that you are making a mistake, brother,” you said calmly. You were hoping he hadn't noticed the quaver in your voice. “The things you accuse me of. None of that is true.” You turned your head to Julia, who was looking at you as she always did, defiant and angry.

“Lady Domna asked me to poison you, as she well knows. And I refused."

“Or are you going to tell me our brother Geta's lies too?” Caracalla snapped.

"Not lies, you fool, I'm telling the truth!" Geta shouted. He then inhaled. "Our mother is responsible for this. I can assure you that neither I nor Aurelia attempted to poison you."

Julia looked at her son, her eyes wide in surprise.

"What about this then?" Caracalla indicated the vial in his hand. "Last week, I had this dream that you were trying to kill me, and you were all involved." He pointed his index finger at each of you in turn. Macrinus stood silently beside him, weighing up the situation.

"As I said, my mother found a poison that will kill you slowly, which is why you killed this slave just now!"

Caracalla looked down at the dead slave on the floor. "That's right," he muttered. "I did." Then he grinned.

He looked like he was really lost, which made you almost feel pity for him. Geta approached him, seemingly used to this situation. "I asked Aurelia for help, for you, brother."

"Hah! So you admit that you plotted together to kill me!”

Geta sighed. “No you silly! You know that Aurelia is a medicus, so she found out what poisoned you and made a concoction that will cure you.”

“Lies, lies, lies! You're always lying to me!” He shouted at him, then pursed his lips. Geta rolled his eyes.

That's when you heard some muttering coming from outside. You figured it must be the soldiers. Before you had a chance to react, someone called out 'General', the great door opened, and Marcus walked in. You weren't sure which was more shocking. Seeing Marcus there like that, Flavius gripping his arm like he was a criminal, the bruises and blood on his face, or the fact that he was only in his burgundy tunic? Your chest tightened and your breath caught in your throat. It was as if someone was squeezing it.

“Marcus!” you cried out. Your ringing voice filled every space in the great hall.

Without a second thought, you strode towards him. You grasped his face in your hands and gazed at his bruises with concern.

"Aurelia, tell me you're alright." He asked, also concerned.

"I am. But you? What happened to your face?" You touched the edge of his eyebrow where the blood oozing from. You couldn't hold back the tears.

"There's no need to be concerned, my lady."

"General!" Caracalla said loudly. "Or should I just call you Marcus now? After all, you don't deserve the title."

"How do you mean?" you asked him, taking Marcus’ hand in yours.

"You are mad indeed, brother." Geta muttered. “General has nothing to do with this.”

“Shut the hell up! Enough with your lies!” Caracalla wagged a finger at him. Then he turned to you and Marcus.

"A husband and wife have decided to commit a crime together. That's quite romantic.” He gave a little sarcastic clap.

“What are you accusing him of?” you asked, a little sharply. “He's a general who's loyal to you. The person you should be accusing is right there with you!” You said, pointing at Macrinus.

“Aurelia,” Marcus warned, squeezing your hand.

Macrinus smirked smugly. "May I enquire as to the evidence on which you have based your conclusion, my lady?"

Caracalla butted in. "You're not in a position to accuse anyone." I'm the one who decides everyone's fate here.’ He turned to his mother. "I will commence with Lady Domna. Or should I say ‘Mother'?" he said, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Then he went to the slave lying lifeless on the floor, bent down and examined him as if he was seeing him for the first time. "You disobeyed me. As if that wasn't enough, you tried to poison me using this rat." He stood up and asked the guard next to him for his sword. Once he had it in his hand, he looked at its shiny surface as if he were talking to it. Julia tensed up. "I can't send you back there without knowing what you'll do. I'm sure you'll be back though. So you'll be charged under the Roman law.”

“Brother!” Geta protested.

"I must protest! I'm the Empress, I can't be judged! I am your mother!" Julia yelled.

"That's why you are still breathing!" Caracalla barked. "You committed treason! I could kill you right now, but I won't! So, try to be greatful and don't speak another word!"

"It's a fair judgement, Your Majesty," Macrinus stated, pleased. You were certain that it was his opinion. After all, he had the majority of the Senate.

"Take Lady Domna to her room and keep her there until the trial," he ordered the guards.

The guards forcibly took her by the arm and led her out, despite her protests and shouting.

"As for you," he said, pointing at you and Geta.

"It would be best to simply let Aurelia go. I'm the one who asked her for help," he said, stepping between you and Caracalla.

Caracalla laughed. "How touching! What have you done to my brother, Aurelia?" His eyes shifted to you. Marcus clenched his jaw. The atmosphere in the hall was getting tense. "Well, here's the thing; she's the one who made this concoction, after all."

"It's not poison, on the contrary, it's a herbal remedy that will heal you." You explained.

Caracalla approached you and handed you the vial, pointing the sword he held in his other hand at you. "Prove it, then. Drink."

Marcus became visibly tense. Geta turned his head towards you. You swallowed hard. There was no harm in drinking the concoction you had made, you wouldn't have been afraid to drink it, only if you hadn't been carrying a child. "I can not," you suddenly said, closing your eyes and bowing your head.

Caracalla laughed hysterically. You exchanged a look with Marcus, you knew he understood why.

Geta turned to you, leaned in, “Aurelia, what are you-“

"I can't because I'm with child." You said. "The mixture could harm the child."

Everyone looked at you, and there was a brief period of silence. "How can I be sure you're not lying to me?" Caracalla asked.

Geta shifted his gaze to your belly, then turned to Caracalla and snatched the vial from his hand. "Give me the damn thing," he said and uncorked the bottle and drank the whole thing without thinking.

Everyone was looking at him in surprise. He threw the vial on the floor and looked Caracalla in the eye, who stared back at him with his mouth open. Geta licked his lips, spread his arms wide. "Look at me, brother! I am still alive, aren't I?" He smirked.

Caracalla looked at him, then at you, narrowing his eyes. This time he pointed his sword at Geta. "You two, you must be playing tricks on me."

"That's nonsense!" Geta yelled. Caracalla shook his head as if he had heard something. "No, a lie is always a lie. I refuse to believe it." The sword slipped and fell to the floor as he covered his ears with his hands. He stepped back. Macrinus approached him and whispered something in his ear.

"I think that's all we need for now. As you can see, Aurelia is completely innocent." Geta said.

"No way!" Caracalla spoke up. "She'll be staying here until this is resolved." He and Macrinus exchanged glances. He then looked at you. "I've decided that she needs to stay under home detention here at Domus Severiana."

"I must protest!" you said, loudly. Marcus gave you a little tap on the shoulder to calm you down.

“My decision is final!” He yelled at you then turned to Geta. “So, you, I'll have you tried for high treason, and I'll have you deposed from the title of emperor."

“You can't do that!” Geta interjected.

“Just watch me!” He gave him a stern look.

Geta clenched his fists.

"As for you, Acacius," Caracalla said, pointing his finger at Marcus this time. "There won't be a trial for you. I've got other plans. "In fact, I should have you beheaded or thrown off the Tarpeian rock.”

(Tarpeian rock: A steep cliff on the south side of the Capitoline Hill that was used in Ancient Rome as a site of execution. Murderers, traitors, perjurors, and larcenous slaves, if convicted by the quaestores parricidii, were flung from the cliff to their deaths.)

"For what offence?" Your body was shaking.

"Treason of course!" He shouted.

Macrinus intervened. "Your Majesty, your people respect or General Acacius and they have made great hero out of him. It would be unwise to have him executed. You might draw the public's ire to yourself. Angering them will only work against you."

"How do you mean? Should I let him walk free, Macrinus?" Caracalla shouted at him angrily.

Macrinus looked at Marcus. "No, of course not. I just want to say that there are other ways that the public will be satisfied with. And you of course, Your Majesty."

"And what are those ways, I wonder?”

You were getting nervous as he spoke, what was he planning?

“Games,” he said. “We could set up some fighting games, and Acacius could fight in the Colosseum to win his freedom.”

“No way!” You let out a cry of protest.

"Why do you object, or you do not trust your husband's fighting strength?" Caracalla enquired with a hint of irony. "It is a good decision, Macrinus I liked it."

You looked at Marcus. But he was staring at Caracalla. "What about my men? I demand their release, Your Majesty. They have nothing to do with my treachery." Marcus said the word treachery through clenched teeth.

"I deny it, Acacius! They are as guilty as you are, and they will take their share of your punishment and fight along with you in the Colosseum!"

"Your Majesty, I suggest that you reconsider this!" Marcus said loudly.

"Shut up!" Caracalla approached him. "That dusty ground of the Colosseum will become your grave, you will lose your reputation, your name will be forgotten! I will burn your villa to the ground with your slaves inside! And your wife Aurelia..." He eyed you up and down. "She will be confined for the rest of her life! Do you hear me?"

He gestured to Flavius, who grabbed you by the arm and pulled you away from Marcus.

"Don't you dare to touch her!" Marcus lunged towards him but the guards grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back hard.

"Marcus!" You reached for him, but Flavius was holding your arm tightly.

"Take your hands off the Princess now!" Geta shouted too, but Flavius ignored him.

“My name may be forgotten, but your name will be remembered with hatred for generations to come!” Marcus roared. “You will face the hatred of your people! Your reign will come to an end!”

“Get him out of my sight!” Caracalla shouted. “Throw him in one of the pits in the Colosseum with all his men!”

"No, please! Brother please!" You begged. Tears welled up in your eyes.

He didn't care.

“MARCUS!” You screamed at the top of your lungs as the guards dragged him out. Flavius then released you, but couldn't feel your legs and collapsed. Geta crouched, put his arm around your shoulder, you rested your head on his chest, sobbing, crying.

“Lock them in their rooms, I want two men at every door!” You weren't looking at Caracalla, but you knew he was talking about you and Geta.

First day of the games.

The Colosseum was host to a game that was somewhat unique today. The announcement of the accusation and sentence of General Marcus Acacius had been made public, and many people had gathered here in the early hours. It would be fair to say that the vast majority viewed this man as a hero. The loud shouts of the crowd mingled with the sound of drums and trumpets. For the first time, Marcus was not pleased to hear his name shouted by the crowd, despite being aware of their admiration. The reason was straightforward: his wife Aurelia was absent from the Imperial stand. They had taken her away from him. Caracalla and Geta were seated in their customary positions. It appeared that Caracalla wished to keep his brother, who had committed treason, close by.

However, Geta, like Marcus, was even less enthusiastic about being there for the first time. As Marcus and his soldiers saluted them before the fight commenced, Geta and he locked eyes. If only I could hear him at this distance, he thought. I wish he would tell me something about Aurelia. Then Geta nodded at him as if he could read something his mind. ‘She's alright,’ he mimicked with his lips. And that was it! That was enough for Marcus to feel strong and defeat everyone and everything in the arena. On top of that, he had his most trusted men with him this time, his soldiers. They'd fought side by side on the battlefield, and they were ready to do the same here.

"Octavius!" Marcus called out. He gave him a heads-up about the barbarian warrior coming up behind him. Octavius dodged the attack and, led by Marcus, they all took up an attacking position, targeting one barbarian warrior and quickly overcoming them. There were just two barbarians left. Marcus signaled to his soldiers to stay back and calmly took a step forward, challenging the remaining barbarians with his outstretched arm. They both charged towards him with their swords but missed. Marcus expertly dodged their attacks and cut them with his sharp sword. The crowd went wild. Geta laughed and applauded. For the first time, Caracalla responded to his laughter by cursing angrily. Marcus, with his sword bathed in a crimson red, made his way towards the barbarian, who was lying on the ground, apparently nearing the end of his life. He then looked at Caracalla.

Caracalla turned his thumb down. Marcus killed the barbarian with a swift move. As the crowd chanted Marcus' name, Caracalla sulked and sank into his seat. "Ugh! Too fast and too boring! Well, fortunately, this is a three-day game and we're only on day one."

"How exciting!" Geta teased.

Caracalla frowned and turned his head towards Macrinus who was already approaching. "Have your new gladiators arrived, Macrinus?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. They are preparing for tomorrow's game." He said, smiling at him.

"That's good. I hope tomorrow will bring the defeat of Acacius and his men." He looked at them with a hint of displeasure. Then he stood up. "Come, brother. It's time to leave."

Marcus was keeping an eye on them from a distance, his gaze shifting to Flavius, who was following behind them. He clenched his fists as he watched them until they were out of sight. He made a vow to himself. He was going to win these games, no matter what. He had to win the Emperor's approval to be free. Then he could leave here and get you to safety. After that, he could take care of Flavius and Macrinus. Even if he never became a general again, that would not matter to him. He did not believe that Caracalla would reinstate him, anyway. That night, staying in the same pit with the gladiators but in separate cells, he was thinking about all this and you.

You spent the entire day in a state of mental and emotional distress, seeking solace through prayer. You were rather concerned about Marcus, eager to receive any news from him. However, the guards at the door of your room would never let you out. You hated this room. Never expected to feel this way about it, nor to return here in this way. While you watched the birds singing cheerfully outside the window, you felt a longing to be free like them. You were also concerned about those in the villa and you prayed for them too. However, Marcus was on your mind constantly. Nothing made sense without him. You were feeling lost, incomplete. In the evening there was a knock at the door. Geta's slave had brought dinner. The girl noticed that the food on the morning tray had not been touched. She looked at you with a concerned and sad expression.

"My lady, please try to eat a little."

"I do not feel hungry," you murmured.

She glanced at the guards and then looked back at you. "If you could do it for your child." The girl was a little too insistent in her tone. You turned to her. She gave you a nod with her head. She indicated the plate on the tray with a gesture. You noticed a piece of paper under the plate. Had someone wrote you a note? You looked at the guards. They were standing at the door and wouldn't let it close when the slave girl was inside. You had to come up with an excuse. "Alright then. I'll eat, but first you help me get dressed. I need to change my dress." you said loudly looking at the guards. "Close the door, I need to get dressed."

The guards nodded and obeyed. You immediately took the paper from the tray.

"Emperor Geta wrote to you," she said quietly.

"Or perhaps it is about Marcus?" you asked, opening the little paper.

"I am not quite sure, my lady. He's in a similar situation to you, confined in a way. I couldn't even speak to him properly." You could sense the sadness in her voice, you touched her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Do not you worry. I'm sure everything will be alright and we'll be released soon." You felt like you also convincing yourself desperately.

The girl replied with a smile.

You turned your gaze to the paper to read what Geta had written.

"My dear sister. I hope you're doing well. I'm really concerned about you, so it would be great if you send me a response. What do you think of this solution huh? You must think I'm pretty smart, you do not? Come now, be honest." -Even so, he still managed to make you smile- "Anyway, Acacius and his men fought well today. You should have seen Caracalla's face when they won the game. It looked like a little monkey's butt. Whatever. Acacius, he's fine, don't you worry about him. If he wins the next two games, he'll be free. And I'm quite sure he will. Oh, and you never told me you were carrying a child, which I'm still upset about. Well, take care of yourself and the child, and eat your food. I'm waiting for your secret response letter. We'll be free soon, I promise. Kisses.”

Sighing, you crumpled up the paper and put it in the wooden box, closing it up. Fortunately, he had some good news. You felt a little relieved. You then looked around your room for some paper and a pen. The girl whispered to you. "Here, my lady," she said, pulling out the ink, reed pen and paper she had tucked into her belt.

"You are really well prepared," you said, smiling at her. She giggled. You sat down and the girl helped you to write a reply for Geta.

"Brother, I'm alright, please don't worry.  I must say, this solution is really clever and I am very grateful for it. Many thanks for the good news about him. I hope we'll all be free soon. I know you won't get anywhere near Marcus, but if you get a chance, I'd appreciate it if you'd tell him I love him. Please look after yourself around Caracalla. I await your letter about tomorrow."

You handed the paper to the girl. She tucked it into her belt to deliver it to Geta.

Day two of the Games.

The atmosphere in the Colosseum today was somewhat different from that of yesterday. It seemed that the crowd flocking to this giant structure was more enthusiastic today. 

Marcus and his soldiers were going over their plan of fight while sharpening their swords. A tougher fight awaited them today. The gladiators were well trained, but unlike them, this was their first time in the Colosseum. Before long, the drums started beating and they were announced.

“Honos et Virtus! (Honor and virtue!) For freedom!” They shouted together, tapping each other on the shoulder. With swords drawn, they made their way to the arena, accompanied by the sound of drums and  the enthusiastic cheering of the crowd. It was pretty unlikely that they could pull off a fight like this on such short notice. But since Caracalla had declared them criminals, he'd ordered that there should be no interruption, one day after another. No matter how strong or experienced they were, it wasn't something an ordinary soldier could take easily. However, losing wasn't an option for Marcus. He encouraged them accordingly and spurred them on. Before start, and saluting emperor, Geta and Marcus shared a look that was just like yesterday. Marcus smiled in response to Geta's positive gestures.

“Oh, this is so ridiculous,” Geta muttered. “I feel like I'm flirting with a girl.”

“What was that? What did you say?” Caracalla leaned in towards him.

“Nothing, just thinking out loud.”

“And you call me mad.”

“But you are,” Geta said. “You're treating me like a caged animal. Locking me when I've done nothing wrong.”

"Be glad I didn't kill you," said Caracalla arrogantly. "Since I've tried it before and I can do it again."

"What did you say?" Geta looked at him with wide eyes.

Caracalla laughed. "If Aurelia hadn't saved you that night, you'd be with the Gods now. You would be dead."

Geta preferred to look at him in astonishment rather than watch the game. Of course, he had thought about it, but he could not digest his cold-blooded confession. At that moment he realised that everything was in vain. That he still saw him as his brother, that he respected him a little. To go to Aurelia for him. Suddenly he found himself feeling guilty. Tasting these new feelings, he set himself a goal: to kill him. No matter what, today or tomorrow. He had to die.

While Geta was planning to kill Caracalla somehow, Marcus and his soldiers kept up the fight against the gladiators. Despite the gladiators outnumbering them, they were able to prevail over them by watching each other's backs and acting in a spirit of brotherhood. Caracalla gave a thumbs up, decided that the remaining gladiators be to live. That came as a surprise to everyone. Macrinus seemed really pleased, and Geta noticed. They all had some injuries, including Marcus himself, but they weren't too severe. Marcus had a small scratch on his cheek. Octavius had a cut on his calf, and the others had cuts on their arms and legs. They were also pretty tired. They were in need of a rest, but they knew that Emperor Caracalla wouldn't let them. That night, as Marcus examined his brothers' wounds, he was filled with concern for the following day. It was possible that Caracalla and Macrinus had something big in store for the final day.

It was just after midnight when the sound of the iron gates opening was carried away on the breeze that had picked up the dust from the stone walls. Marcus and the others were soon aware that Cato and a soldier were approaching, and they rose to their feet immediately.

"Cato! It's Cato, sir!" Octavius said in a cheerful manner.

Marcus grasped the iron bars. "Cato? What are you doing here?"

Cato looked sad. "Sir, I am very truly saddened by all this."

"Cease weeping now, Cato," Octavius chastised him.

"Have you heard anything from the villa?"

Cato shook his head slowly. Octavius was growing impatient and reached his arm through the iron bars and grabbed his collar. “Speak!"

Marcus touched his shoulder as a warning. Cato took a deep breath. "Sir, when I went to the villa, I found that it had unfortunately been plundered, the soldiers you had positioned there had been murdered.”

Marcus slammed his palm against the iron bars in frustration.

“What about the others? The slaves?” Octavius asked.

"I'm not sure, but none of them were there."

"They must have been detained." Marcus hissed. "Along with all my property, everything I have."

Octavius kicked the bars angrily.

“I was watching Palatine Hill, the Domus Severiana,” Cato said. Marcus looked at him. Cato continued. “Lady Aurelia, I couldn't see her, but I'm certain that she's there.”

"She's under home detention," Marcus said his voice cracked. "Keep watching there. I need to find out how often Flavius and his guards go there and what they do. I need you to keep an eye on things for me until I get out of here. Can you do that?"

He nodded. "Yes, sir!"

The soldier who'd been keeping an eye on the corridor during the conversation came over to them. "Sir, General, I need to get Cato out of here before the guards at the gate realise."

Marcus nodded. "I am indebted to you." He said, and the soldier nodded in respect. Then he turned to Cato. "Cato, be cautious. Whatever you do, don't let Flavius notice you.”

"Yes, sir. I'll pray for you to win tomorrow," he said, looking at each of them. He threw his arms up. "Hodie Ruditapes Leo!' (Today the lion roars!)"

"Hodie Ruditapes Leo!' (Today the lion roars!)" They all repeated, their smiles confident and assured.

As you read Geta's note that evening, you noticed a difference in his writing style compared to the previous day. It seemed more serious. You were curious as to why and felt a little frustrated that you were not allowed to talk to him freely. Yet, you were really grateful to him for coming up with this solution.  It was like he'd given you a breath of air when you felt like you were stuck in this room. Fortunately, there was more good news. Marcus and his soldiers had won. The only thing left to do was get through tomorrow. If Marcus were to emerge victorious from the games tomorrow, it would mean that Caracalla would no longer have the authority to detain him. So maybe you could be freed and return to the villa together before the trial. You had to find out what happened there and see if everyone was well. In accordance with the law, everything you have to be confiscated, including your slaves. It might even be the case that they could have been sold to other people. The mere thought of that made your chest hurt. However, this is not a possibility at such short notice, and certainly not before a decision has been made by the court.

Sitting on the large bed, illuminated by the moonlight that filtered through the long window, you read the short note that Geta had sent you, thinking of him as you traced your thumb over the word 'Marcus'.

You sensed that he was thinking of you too. Actually you were certain. You implored Jupiter, as you rubbed your belly with a hand over it. "Please, my lord. I beseech you. I pray that you spare him to me, to our child. Be his constant companion and his strength in fight, refuge in every adversity. Guide him, my lord, that he may return to me safely."

Day three of the Games.

Present day.

"Remember, we have to win no matter what. If we lose, we will not only lose our lives, but our families, their future and reputation."

They nodded, but their eyes betrayed their doubts. Some of them were exhausted and deeply wounded. Marcus knew that if one lost, they all would. He had to give them what they needed: strength and courage.

“Brothers, do you remember those words I spoke to you two years ago on the Libyan front?”

They looked at each other and nodded in aggrement. He went over to the soldier who was struggling the most and put a hand on his shoulder.

"I mentioned a dark place inside us, a place that can give you strength even when you feel you have none left. You're injured and you're feeling drained. It was just like that day. We were outnumbered that day and it looked like we were going to lose. I don't think any other army would have been able to win with such a small number of people. But we managed to beat the odds and find a way to win. We'll do the same today." He went over to another soldier and looked at him. He had a wound on his arm. "Now I want you to discover that dark place inside you. He turned to another soldier. "Felix. I see you're badly wounded in the leg. Does it hurt?"

The soldier looked at his leg. "Yes, sir."

"Do you feel that place? Do you hear that voice screaming at you that you're going to lose?"

He lowered his head. "Yes, sir.”

"Do you think you can run from here to the gate? Or will it make the wound in your leg worse?"

He looked at him uncertainly. "It could be a lot worse, sir."

"That's not the answer I'm seeking, Felix!" he shouted at him. “When you get to the arena, you'll need to run and be quick. The warriors trying to kill you there will jump on you to finish you off as soon as they realise that you're scared.” He gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Our mind rules our body and it rules this dark place! It cannot direct the body of one who is afraid! Because he is doomed to lose. When you die over there, you will only lose your life. Your family however, will lose their citizenship and be known as the family of a traitor. Your friends will lose a brother. I will lose a good soldier! Now, tell me, will you confront that dark place, face your fears, fight along with us to win?" Marcus looked into his eyes. Felix inhaled and nodded firmly. “I will, sir!”

Marcus smiled. "Good. I trust that you will. From now on, it doesn't matter what you like or don't like, what you're upset about, what you think you've been wronged, your fears, your anxieties, nothing matters." Marcus raised his index finger. "Only one thing matters: Survival. Now tell me. Will you fight by my side and survive? Are you with me?"

The soldiers looked at each other and nodded, and then they all drew their swords and raised them.

"We're with you, sir!"

"Yes sir!"

They all shouted in unison with enthusiasm. Marcus raised his sword. “Nec spe nec metu! (Neither hope nor fear!)”

The soldiers repeated it back to him. The sound of their voices echoed off the stone walls. A little later, the sound everyone was waiting for was heard! The iron gates opened with a loud noise as their names were announced. The sound of drums, pipes, the voices of the crowd, whistles and applause filled the air. Everyone was brimming with excitement as they sat in their seats at the Colosseum, eager for the final game day. Geta and Caracalla were sitting in their usual seats. Macrinus came up to emperor and whispered something in his ear. Geta tried to focus on what he was saying, but the noise made it difficult to hear.

"Today will be the end of Acacius." Caracalla said to Geta, in an excited tone.

"You speak too precisely, brother. They've only just begun!

“This is the end! There's no doubt about it." He snapped. "His end. He is going to die today.” His hands were shaking. Geta squinted at his hands then his face. “I will get rid of him no matter what.”

At that moment, Geta became aware that something was being planned. He was fairly certain that Macrinus and Flavius were involved. But what could it be? He considered the option of killing his brother at that moment. However, he was unable to give orders to the guards.  He knew his own end was near. Just after Marcus. Maybe even yours. Caracalla was completely lost. He has to be the one to die today, but how? Geta thought.

Marcus and his men were in fine spirits as they engaged in combat with the gladiators who had previously fought and whose lives Caracalla had graciously spared. However, before long, two hatches opened on the ground of the arena, and a loud roar was heard as two tigers suddenly appeared. Caracalla was visibly amused and expressed his approval with a hearty laugh and a clap of his hands. The crowd expressed their delight with enthusiastic shouts.

“Where did these tigers come from?” Geta was rather puzzled.

"Didn't you like my surprise?'"

"I thought we'd run out of wild animals?" Geta grunted.

"And I thought we could make do with these until the rhino was brought in. They were only brought in last week. Macrinus went to great lengths to get them from Libya."

Geta squinted at him. "I am sure he did.”

Marcus got his men together and gave them a few strategies. After all, none of them had ever fought tigers, so they tried to stay calm. The gladiators had a similar plan of action. The two groups were ready to attack each other, using the tigers as a dangerous tool. The gladiators advanced towards them with shields and spears. Marcus and his soldiers numbered six. Gladiators were four. However, one of the gladiators was so enormous that he could easily be counted as two men. Marcus had given his men another tactic about him: attack his leg first, so they could finish him off as soon as he fell to the ground. That was it. A moment later, Octavius lunged at his leg with his sword. And managed to cut deeply. Before long, the other soldier did the same, and the big man collapsed on the ground. But not before he'd punched them in the stomach and face. During the attack, Marcus lost one soldier, leaving him with five remaining. The battle was so intense that it was difficult to catch your breath. Everyone was exhausted and trying to outwit the enemy while dodging the claws and teeth of the tigers, which was harder than ever. After one intense battle, Marcus and his soldiers were down to four. As he saw the exhaustion on their faces, Marcus felt the first stirrings of fear. But he persevered and fought on. He managed to cut down one of the gladiators and one of the tigers.

The crowd went wild with excitement. His success gave the remaining soldiers the encouragement they needed to keep fighting with everything they had. And soon the cries of victory were heard in the arena. The gladiators were all defeated by the glorious Roman soldiers and their General. The crowd cheered his name with delight. They gave each other a big hug and saluted the crowd.

And, It all happened so quickly.

"Now!" Caracalla shouted angrily. Geta turned his head towards Flavius, who raised his arm and looked at something, then lowered it as he gave an order to someone in the crowd. Out of the blue, Marcus was hit in the arm by a bolt from nowhere. If Octavius hadn't been a bit closer, it would probably have gone through his throat. Marcus let out a cry of pain. The crowd fell silent. Geta got to his feet. Caracalla looked at him, his hands clasped in delight.  He laughed wildly. The soldiers called out to their general. Then they quickly looked in the direction of the bolt. It was someone planted in the audience. It was against the rules. It was completely unacceptable. Caracalla was determined to see Marcus dead, so he came up with this plan.

However, he was soon disappointed to see that Marcus had broken the bolt and pulled it out of his arm. He was seething with rage. The soldiers picked up shields from the ground and formed a protective circle around their general. The crowd caught the attacker with the crossbow and beat him up. Caracalla got really angry and swore as he saw his plan fail. Geta looked at him and laughed cruelly.

Caracalla looked at him angrily and stood up. The crowd was chanting Marcus's name.

“I think that’s enough. Now It's time to set him free, brother. He has well earned it.”

He was aware of it. He looked at Flavius and the other guards and, with some reluctance, gave the order to open the great iron gate. Octavius, who was holding Marcus's arm, looked at him with concern.

"Sir, it looks like you've got a bit of a rough injury."

"No need to worry about my wound, brother. We survived. We won! That's all that matters." He smiled.

The soldiers looked at him. 'We won, sir!' Marcus gave them a tap on the shoulder, one by one. "I'm proud of you all."

Before long, the iron gate opened and Caracalla entered the arena as his name was announced. Geta was right behind him.  Marcus' smile faded. He considered grabbing the pugio from the ground, as this could be his only opportunity to kill him. However, if things did not go as planned, it could have unfortunate consequences. Besides, he had to think about his soldiers as well. At his command, they all dropped their swords and bowed their heads.

“Acacius, you really are a hard man to kill. You put me in a dilemma.”

He also noticed the pugio on the ground, covered in blood and dust. If he could get to it, he might be able to kill his brother right there and then. But he shouldn't let on. He glanced over at Marcus. He could see right through what he was up to.  He looked at the guards, who numbered eight. Could he take them down? No, he'd have to be declared free first. He decided to wait.

Geta bent down and picked up the pugio.

“Would you like one of the tiger's teeth, brother?” he said, looking at Caracalla, trying hard to hide his intentions.

Caracalla gave a shrug and seemed confused. “Alright, but first I must announce the verdict the people are waiting for.”

Marcus and Geta exchanged glances. And the decision has been made.

Caracalla cleared his throat and announced his decision in a voice the crowd could hear. “Marcus Acacius! By the authority of Roman law, I declare you free!”

The crowd cheered and whistled. They began to chant Caracalla's name. Caracalla held up his hand and signalled for them to be silent.

"But you're not a Roman general anymore. You're not even serving in the military anymore. You'll be exiled. You'll lose all your authority and you'll have to live outside Rome for the rest of your life."

The crowd suddenly fell silent, and after a few murmurs, people started to protest.

“General! General! General! General! General! General!”

“Silence! You filthy rats! How dare you? I shall kill all of you!” Caracalla yelled at them.

It all happened so fast. Geta threw the pugio at Marcus while Caracalla looking at the crowd. He skilfully grasped the pugio and slashed Caracalla's throat with a move faster than the wind. Nobody even noticed for the first few minutes because it happened so fast. As soon as blood spurted from the cut on Caracalla's throat, he instinctively pressed his hands as if to make the wound stop bleeding.

His sapphire-coloured fancy toga, his golden necklace, all soaked with his own blood flowing between fingers through. He fell to the dusty ground as he collapsed lifelessly to his knees. His blood was leaking slowly, pooling around his lifeless body. Geta took the pugio from Marcus' hand and looked the guards in the eye, who had taken up their attacking positions.

"The tyrant emperor is dead! I am the only emperor! As a tyrant, his rules are null and void!"

This was indisputably the case. The rules of the emperor, who had been legally declared a tyrant with the approval of the Senate, were therefore legally invalid. Geta had planned well, and the people were happy about it. After all, they were now shouting his name. Even when the blood continued to flow from his brother's lifeless body. Now he has to convince the council next. Marcus and his soldiers bowed their heads to him. The guards too. Then Marcus's eyes shift to the imperial tribune, he tensed up when he couldn't see Flavius or Macrinus there.

"Your Majesty, I need to know if your sister, my wife Aurelia, is still at Palatine Hill."

“Yes,” Geta said, also looking at the tribune. He turned his head to Marcus, his eyes wide. “That cunt Macrinus and his filthy dog Flavius.” He hissed.

Marcus looked at his soldiers. “Octavius, you are with me. The others will remain with Emperor Geta to ensure his safety and protection."

Geta tapped Marcus on the shoulder. "Acacius, there is no need for concern about my safety now. Go and ensure my sister is safe."

Marcus nodded nervously. Quickly, he and Octavius made their way towards the iron gate to leave the Colosseum.

Macrinus strode purposefully down the steps of the Colosseum, determined to catch up with Flavius. He looked around and saw that people on the streets were talking about Caracalla's death with great enthusiasm.

“Sir Flavius! Where do you think you're going?” Macrinus shouted at him.

They were both furious. "Tell your men to move now! We need to act fast while he's still in there."

Flavius grabbed his horse's reins. "I don't care about Emperor Geta! You told me Acacius would die there today!"

“Your man couldn't shoot him, so that's not my fault! Now is the time to take down Geta as we planned. We must finish him before he is officially proclaimed. Then, when I ascend the throne, I will finish Acacius myself, just as I promised you.”

"Your perfect plan didn't do shit!" He barked.

"I made you Prateon Prefect! I gave you  power!" Macrinus shouted.

Flavius shook his head. "I don't give a damn about your throne or the power you gave me! You promised you'd finish Acacius, but you couldn't. Our deal is off. "I'll finish him myself!" He leapt onto his horse. Macrinus was enraged.

"What the hell are you talking about? Where are you going?”

"I was wrong to go along with your stupid plan. I am going to do what I should have done all along. I'll take away what's most precious to him. Then he'll learn what loss means."

Macrinus was taken aback when he realised what he was talking about. 'No! You cannot!' "I need Princess Aurelia. Don't you dare touch her!"

"I will have my revenge with or without you!" He yelled, kicked his horse forward.

Macrinus called a few of the guards to his side and ordered them to follow him.

It was the afternoon, you were resting in bed, nervously awaiting, hoping for good news. Then there was a noise, a clinking of swords, and you heard the guards at the door hurrying away. The sound of their metal armour echoed with every footstep. You approached the door to see what was happening. As soon as you opened the door, you saw Geta's slave rushing to your side.

"My lady. You must leave immediately. Come with me." She grasped your hand and pulled you with her.

"What's going on?"

She put her finger to her lips. "We have to be quiet. I'll tell you."

As soon as you stepped into the courtyard, she pulled you towards the corner and guided you to hide behind the wall. You peeked out and noticed Flavius.

“They're looking for you.” She whispered.

Before you could ask anything the girl tugged you by the hand again. The other slaves noticed, rushing towards you.

"This way, my lady."

"Why are they looking for me? Or has something happened to Marcus?”

"I am not sure, my lady. The Commander of the Guard has just killed three of his men. They attempted to prevent him from entering. I heard them talking about you. You must leave before he notices you."

Your heart was beating fast. Your throat felt dry. As you approached the entrance door, you saw three of the guards were lying on the floor covered in blood.

"My Lady!” A familiar voice called out to you.

You looked in that direction and saw Cato, who was waiting for you outside the entrance door, holding the reins of a horse. You looked around for Marcus, but he was not there.

“Stop right there!”

You gasped when you heard Flavius's loud voice.

"My Lady, get on the horse now!" Cato drew his sword, staring at Flavius as he ran towards you.

"Cato, I-" Your voice cracked.

"You are the one he wants! Just go!"

You nodded, tears in your eyes, and quickly climbed onto the horse, kicking it forward.

When you looked back, you saw Cato taking up a defensive position, you turned your head. You tried to hold back your tears and gripped the horse's reins tighter. You had no idea where you were supposed to go. But it seemed a bad idea to head into the city and the streets, after all he was the commander of the guards and they were everywhere. So you rode on a road that led straight out of city center. You turned your head and looked back again. It didn't look like anyone was coming after you, but you had to be sure. After a while you heard drums and an announcement: “Be aware! Emperor Caracalla is dead! He is dead! He is dead!” You slowed your horse down.

How? When? You asked yourself in shock. And what about Marcus? Why isn't anyone talking about him?

People were looking at you with curiosity as you were a little bewildered and trying to figure out what to do. Before you knew it, you heard the sound of a horse's neigh coming behind you and people screamed. You looked back and saw Flavius on his horse, your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. As you pulled the reins in a hurry, your bracelet caught on the fabric of your dress and slipped off your wrist, falling to the ground, causing a tinkling sound. The bracelet was precious to you, but you had to keep going. You just couldn't let him catch you.

You decided to ride the horse into the woods, with the intention of disappearing from view. As Flavius followed you, he saw Cato catching up with him. He drew his sword, turned his horse around and struck Cato with the sword. Cato fell to the ground, screaming in pain. The sword had hit his armour, so he wasn't dead, but he was frustrated. The distance between you and him had grown, and you were feeling pretty tired, so you decided to get off your horse and go through the trees to get to the other side of the city and the Colosseum. But it was a long way to walk. As soon as you heard Flavius' horse, you started running. He saw your silhouette and grinned.

"So you want to play tag, eh, princess?" He dismounted. "You should be aware of that, though. It's my favourite game." He drew his sword, following the tracks you left.

It was really hard to move through the forest without making a sound, especially with the long stola you were wearing. You kept tripping over thorns and bushes as you walked. As he was good at tracking, Flavius was following you calmly, smiling at every crunching noise you made.He crouched down to observe a trail on the ground. "If you surrender now, I promise I won't hurt you.” He grinned cruelly.

You were shaking with fear and trying to calm yourself down. You grabbed the fabric of your stola, pulled it up and tucked it into the belt around your waist, exposing your ankles but at least allowing you to move forward without making a sound. You soon came across a large, thick clump of bushes right next to a puddle. A tree root had created a small cave-like hollow in the soil. You decided to take shelter there because you were really tired. You took your knife out, picked it up, remain still, waiting in silence.

Upon arriving at Palatine Hill, Marcus was met with a gruesome scene: the guards and slaves lying lifeless on the ground. He was too late. Then he saw the slave girl running towards him. She was wounded, but managed to inform them and showed them the direction you were headed. Without a moment's hesitation, Marcus and Octavius mounted their horses and rode off in that direction.

"They must have gone out of the city. I think we should go that way," Octavius said.

"I will head there! We must split-up! You ride down the city, in case of the unexpected!" Marcus pointed down the street.

"Yes, sir!" Octavius rode his horse down the road.

Marcus was just about to kick his horse into a trot when he noticed some children playing with a gold bracelet. It looked familiar. He jumped off his horse, approached them and grabbed it. He knew this bracelet well, because he was the one who gave it to you.

"Where did you get this, child?" he asked one of them.

The child pointed ahead and Marcus rub child's head, then quickly got back on his horse and rode in that direction.

“Princess? Where are you hiding? You know I'll find you eventually. And when I do…”

That sick bastard, you thought. You were glad he didn't sound close. You decided that going the other way would be a better idea. Waiting here was pointless. It made you feel like you were caught in a trap. Just as you were about to stand up, you heard a hissing sound and your eyes widened in shock as you saw a snake ahead. You covered your mouth with your hand to stop yourself screaming. You jumped back. You had to kill the snake before Flavius saw you. You knew he would see you if you stood up. You held your knife tight, aiming at the snake. You missed on your first try but stabbed it the second time. You felt sick, both from the blood flowing from the snake and from this overwhelming feeling of fear.

With your survival instinct, an idea came to your mind. The snake was a viper, which is known to be highly poisonous. Even though it was dead, there was still venom in its fangs. You knew how to get the venom since you'd already produced antivenom many times before, but it was too dangerous with bare hands. You tore the fabric from the hem of your dress, wrapped it around your hand and pressed the dead snake's head to open its mouth and extract the venom from its fangs. The venom was leaking out in a bright yellowish colour. You held your breath and applied the venom to the surface of your knife. You weren't sure how, but you had to cut Flavius somewhere on his body with this knife.

"Found you!"

You froze. His voice was right behind you. Just as you were about to run forward, he grabbed you by the hair and yanked hard. You let out a cry of pain. He yanked your hair harder, turning you to face him.

"I told you to surrender, princess." He grinned.

You lunged at his exposed arm with your knife. He wasn't expecting you to have a knife, so he was caught off guard and you managed to cut him. Flavius let out a cry of pain, and when he released your hair, you took the opportunity to step back. He realised it wasn't just a normal cut when he started rubbing it with his hand. The poison had mixed with his blood and caused him terrible pain as it spread through his veins. He groaned loudly and then looked at you angrily.

“You whore!” He grabbed you by the arm and hit you hard in the face. You stumbled backward and fell. You crawled away from him with all your strength. “I said I wouldn't hurt you, but I changed my mind.”

He grabbed your hair again, yanked, turned you around, so he was right on top of you.  His weight made it difficult for you to breathe. "I'm really going to hurt you. A lot." Flavius was running his pugio over your face. You felt the sharp edge of the knife against your skin as you fought against him.

A horse neighed loudly in the distance and you both looked in that direction. He uttered a curse and raised his pugio to stab you. Then, you heard footsteps running towards you and a familiar angry roar, then Marcus appeared and jumped on Flavius, pushing his body off you. They rolled on the grass. After his weight lifted off of you, you took a deep breath and looked at them. They were locked in a fierce struggle, punching each other with groans.

Marcus drew his pugio and stabbed him in the leg, then punched him in the face. He quickly got on top of him and started hitting him in the face again and again. Flavius was struggling to breathe, but he managed to hit the wound on his arm. Marcus groaned in pain. He seized the opportunity to kick him. This time Marcus was on the ground. You were shaking, but you had to think fast. As soon as you realised your knife was on the ground, you ran to it. You snatched it and forced yourself to remember the attack moves Marcus had taught you before. You lunged, aiming for Flavius' neck, who was punching Marcus in the face. Marcus hit Flavius with his elbow and realised you were approaching.

“Aurelia!” he shouted, holding out his hand as if to stop you.

Flavius had his pugio in his hand and could have cut you down in an instant. But you were the first to act. As soon as he turned his head towards you, you stabbed him in the throat with your knife. His eyes widened in surprise as blood gushed from the open cut in his throat onto your face, your clothes and your hands. He reached for the knife, grasping it as if he intended to pull it out. But he was wheezing and choking on his own blood as he tried to breathe. You stared at him, your eyes wide with shock. Marcus's voice sounded muffled to your ears. He shook you by the shoulders, but you were completely numb and paralysed. As Flavius' lifeless body collapsed to the ground, you looked at your hands. They were red and wet. Your gaze fell upon Flavius' body again. The blood flowing out of his throat was slow, the effect of the poison, you thought.

Marcus took your face in his hands. Seeing the faint smile on his face, feeling his touch on your skin, your body came back to life.

“Aurelia my love? Are you alright? Speak please, say anything.” He sounded concerned.

“M. Marcus, I... I killed him.” You mumbled.

Marcus wrapped his arms tightly around you.

“Shhh, I know.” He whispered. His hands ran through your hair which was smeared with blood in some places. He rubbed your head and kissed over and over, exhaling with relief. Then he looked at you once more, his eyes holding yours in a gaze that was both intense and unwavering. "It's over, my love. You are safe now." He wiped the blood from your face with his fingers. He kissed your temple and touched his forehead to yours. You stayed like that for a while. Then you heard horses neighing in the distance.

“Sir!”

Octavius and Cato leapt off their horses and ran to you.

"Are you alright, my lady? Sir?" Octavius asked. His eyes then travelled over Flavius' body.

“We are now,” Marcus answered for you.

Octavius moved towards Flavius' body and spat a curse at him.

"Cato, give me a hand," Marcus said, and he helped you to your feet, but your legs were shaking. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you into his arms. Cato held the horse's reins to keep it still. He approached the horse and carefully helped you on. Then he climbed on and settled behind you. He pulled you against his chest and grasped the horse's reins. "Hang in there, my love," he said firmly. Accompanied by Octavius and Cato, he rode slowly toward Palatine Hill.

thank you for reading! your reblogs, comments, likes are soo important to me so please if you enjoyed, support me thank you..

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[santanasaintmendes]

g’day mate how are ya?

Part7! to The Cosmic Girl Records!

summary: new year, new you, plus your new job! which also comes with a few difficulties when you have a big insta following and no pr training ollie bearman x reader & platonic!grid x reader

fc!: just some random photos off pinterest, all credits go to the rightful owners of the images used below

warnings: swearing, insensitive jokes, mention of being held at gunpoint, if any of these are triggering please scroll away!!

a/n: finally got the motivation to make the 7th part to the cosmic girl records also reader is 2 days younger than Ollie! Also if u get tagged by accident IM SO SORRY i swear it’s not on purpose. Also Lewis is driving for mercedes with kimi in this universe, i should probably make a post about the grid for this universe, anyways enjoy!

liked by olliebearman, francocolapinto, landonorris, lilymhe, georgerussell64, charles_leclerc and 3,920,443 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: new year, new me AANNND NEW JOB 

tagged olliebearman 

olliebearman: but NOT a new man, just to be clear 

 unfortunatelyy/n: hey there mr jealous wanna get off my insta page maybe 

 olliebearman: ☹️

landonorris: i feel like you say new year new me too often and nothing changes 

 unfortunatelyy/n: u know just how ruin everything 😔

 landonorris: that is true but you don’t have to point it out‼️

 user1: bro’s just accepting it at this point 😭

user2: SHE’S BACKKKK AND BETTERR THIS TIME 

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

mercedesamgf1: can’t wait to see you in the garage this season 💪

 unfortunatelyy/n: 💪💪

georgerussell64: Love? EWWWWWW

 unfortunatelyy/n: such an anti romantic. i’m telling carmen 

 georgerussell64: no wait 

 unfortunatelyy/n: poor mr russell. screenshotted or you may know it - screen grabbing 

 unfortunatelyy/n: or at least that’s what old people call it 

 georgerussell64: you dare? you dare call ME OLD?

 georgerussell64: HAVE U SEEN ALONSO (no offence mate)

 fernandoalo_oficial: um offence taken? 

 unfortunatelyy/n: WOAH u cannot be going around roasting rookies like that george 

 user2: SHE KNOWS 

 user3: of course she knows, she’s probably the only on there that even knows how to properly use instagram 

 user4: the sad truth. sad but true. liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 unfortunatelyy/n: very true indeed 

user5: i fear that y/n is the only one who’s chronically online 😔

 unfortunatelyy/n: i am, it’s such a hard life when the others don’t get it the memes i show them 😔

 unfortunatelyy/n: they’re just too old

 olliebearman: it’s such a struggle fr 

 unfortunatelyy/n: you’re old too so shush 

|

 olliebearman: I’M 19??? 19 AND LITERALLY 2 DAYS OLDER THAN U

 unfortunatelyy/n: poor ollie, when i was learning subtraction and addition you were already doing multiplication and division 

 olliebearman: i am so confused right now 

liked by olliebearman, alex_albon, kimi.antonelli, alexandrasaintmleux, charles_leclerc and 4,920,228 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: IT’S RACE WEEK + my boyfriend with his boyfriend 

tagged olliebearman and kimi.antonelli 

User1: uh y/n? i don’t think you can be saying stuff like that anymore 

User5: i fear y/n will never be the same anymore, she is employed now 😔

user2: no filter y/n we love to see it 

olliebearman: seriously?

 unfortunatelyy/n: i’m such a comedian (i know ur giggling n shit) 🤭

 olliebearman: I AM NOT 

 unfortunatelyy/n: woah so defensive and for what 

mercedesamgf1: usually we only do pr training for our drivers but . . .  

 unfortunatelyy/n: good thing i’m not a driver then 😮‍💨

 user3: SHE DID NOTTTT 

kimi.antonelli: i’m gonna get you fired (can you send me the photo i want it printed out and on my dashboard for when i drive🙏) 

 unfortunatelyy/n: try me antonelli (yes ofc check ur dms) 

 olliebearman: NOW HANG ON JUST A MINUTE 

 unfortunatelyy/n: yes my love?

 kimi.antonelli: yes my little sugarplum with caramel sauce?

 olliebearman: 🤨

 kimi.antonelli: 🫦

 olliebearman: I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND 

kimi.antonelli: and now a boyfriend 

 user4: i’m on kimi’s side. it’s not gay if it’s with the homies 🤷 

 olliebearman: @unfortunatelyy/n send for help 🙏

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton, lilymhe, kimi.antonelli, arthur_leclerc and 4,294,339 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: hanging out with my fav cutie patootie - oh hey ollie’s here too 

tagged olliebearman and kimi.antonelli

 landonorris: OOOOOHHHH 🔥🔥🔥🔥

 unfortunatelyy/n: get out of here 

 landonorris: ok 😔

 user1: wow she really has him at gunpoint

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

kimi.antonelli: you are also my favourite cutie patootie 🤗

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 olliebearman: just break up with me already😔

 unfortunatelyy/n: well who would i annoy then 

 olliebearman: kimi 😒

 unfortunatelyy/n: IT WAS A JOKE PLS COME HOME WITH THE ITALIAN FOOD 

 olliebearman: NO 

 unfortunatelyy/n: i’m calling the police 

 charles_leclerc: i would appreciate it if you would stop bullying my son 

 charles_leclerc: and calling the police on him 

 unfortunatelyy/n: not unless he brings the food back 

 olliebearman: fine. but only because i love you 😒

 kimi.antonelli: and me too 

 olliebearman: STOP TRYING TO RUIN MY RELATIONSHIP 

 kimi.antonelli: no.

liked by olliebearman, landonorris, francocolapinto, lilymhe, kimi.antonelli, charles_leclerc, pepemartiofficial and 3,849,928 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: just a little reminder that the aussie waves are ALWAYS OUT FOR BLOOD

user1: my anxiety looking at that second pic: 📈📈📈📈

 user2: my girl’s been traumatised by the aussie waves 😭 

 unfortunatelyy/n: she has indeed 😔 

 olliebearman: HAHAHAHAHHAHA 

 unfortunatelyy/n: i hope both sides of your pillow are warm tonight 

 olliebearman: GASP. how terrifyingly hilarious, still won’t beat you nearly drowning though 

 unfortunatelyy/n: I WAS NOT DROWNING 

 olliebearman: so you were just randomly yelling for help in the water while freaking out 

 unfortunatelyy/n: . . . i was testing your boyfriend reflexes 

 olliebearman: mhm sure 

 unfortunatelyy/n: okay the sass was unnecessary 

 olliebearman: 🙄💅

user5: they’re such couple goals i just feel single whenever i see their posts 😔

 user6: kimi’s probably plotting his next sabotage 

 kimi.antonelli: 🤫

 lilymhe: @unfortunatelyy/n ur so hot 😍 

 unfortunatelyy/n: you’re hotter 😍😍😍

 alex_albon: not this again 

 alex_albon: i thought we moved on from this phase 

 unfortunatelyy/n: it’s not a phase honey, it’s a lifestyle 

 alex_albon: your lifestyle is stealing my girlfriend?

 unfortunatelyy/n: yes 😄

 alex_albon: *sigh 

liked by landonorris, kimi.antonelli, lewishamilton, olliebearman, maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 5,928,658 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: FIRST DAY ON THE JOB  WE GOT THIS💪💪

tagged lewishamilton and kimi.antonelli 

user1: did lewis dirty 😭

 user2: what is going on with ollie’s hair in the bg of the third pic 😭

 unfortunatelyy/n: unfortunately it’s always like that 

 olliebearman: HEY 

 lewishamilton: DELETE THIS 

 unfortunatelyy/n: erm no 

 lewishamilton: i’m gonna fire you 

 unfortunatelyy/n: actually u can’t do that 

 lewishamilton: erm actually 🤓☝️

 user3: WOAH i did not know lewis was chill like that 😭😭

 unfortunatelyy/n: OKAY I’M TELLING TOTO 

 lewishamilton: DO IT I DARE YOU 

 unfortunatelyy/n: done. in less than 24 hours you will be an unemployed man 

 mercedesamgf1: y/n . . . we can’t fire our 7 world champion 😓

 unfortunatelyy/n: DANG IT 

 mercedesamgf1: so about that pr training. . . 

 unfortunatelyy/n: GOTTA GO 🏃‍♀️💨

liked by olliebearman, landonorris, alex_albon, kimi.antonelli, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, lilymhe and 11,759,390 others 

unfortunatelyy/n: i know we’re enemies now but maybe i can be happy for u just this once 🫶

tagged olliebearman 

olliebearman: ❤️ liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 landonorris: yuckyyyyyy 

 unfortunatelyy/n: ur yuckier 

 landonorris: no you are 

 unfortunatelyy/n: nuh uh 

 landonorris: yuh huh 

 unfortunatelyy/n: SHUT UP

 landonorris: NO

 unfortunatelyy/n: i’m calling ur mom 

 landonorris: now hang on just a second 

user1: y/n’s living that wattpadd engineer x driver life 

liked by unfortunatelyy/n

 user2: HELP SHE LIKED THE COMMENT 

 oscarpiastri: congrats mate 

 unfortunatelyy/n: are you happy being back in your natural habitat 

 oscarpiastri: what.

a/n: thanks for reading! stay safe and have a good day!!

[hvnyrt]

Voice in the Wind - ALTERNATE ENDING

JASON TODD X READER

I have never really written angst before, and I was really happy with the way my last work came out, but I couldn't help but want the reader and Jason to end up together in the end ;’) So I wrote a quick alternate ending to the same work, a happy ending this time, enjoy!

SUMMARY: Jason has been struggling with the idea of a relationship, fighting inner battles with himself constantly, you convince him to open up.

The rooftop of a Gotham skyscraper was cold beneath Jason Todd’s boots. His breath formed small clouds in the air, the city’s ever-present hum a background noise to his thoughts. He stood facing the edge, arms crossed, eyes scanning the streets below. It was late — or early, depending on how you looked at it — and the city was bathed in a sickly orange glow from the streetlights. Gotham was always awake, like a predator that never rested, and Jason… Jason was just another hunter in its maze of shadows.

He was trying to focus. ‘Focus, Todd,’ he told himself. ‘Don’t be weak. Stay sharp.’ But there was a problem. Your face kept slipping into his mind. No matter how hard he tried to shove it away, there you were again, with that crooked smile and those damn eyes that could cut straight through his walls.

Your voice rang in his ears. He hated your voice because it followed him everywhere, like an earworm he couldn’t get rid of. And your name. He hated your name because it made him feel like he could say it, like he could speak it aloud and claim it, and he didn’t want to claim anything. Not You. 

"She’s just a distraction," he muttered under his breath, the words lost in the wind. "Just a damn distraction." 

Except you werent. He knew it. 

He didn’t know how you had got under his skin, but you had. It had started innocently enough: a few random meetings while he was on patrol, a conversation here and there. But then something shifted. Something he couldn’t control, couldn’t shake. It wasn’t that he wanted to care about you; he didn’t. He couldn’t. Not when he knew better, when he was haunted by the ghosts of his past mistakes. People like him didn’t get to have things like that. People like him didn’t get to have… normal.

It was so fucking frustrating. 

"Stupid." Jason spat the word out as if it could wash away the thoughts, the feelings he didn’t want to deal with. There was no place for feelings in the world he lived in. It was all blood and violence, adrenaline and fear, and you… you were none of that. You were calm. Grounded. Real. You made him feel like he wasn’t constantly running from something.

Nope. Not happening.

"Jason?"

The voice broke through his internal tirade, familiar and warm, cutting through the cold like a blade. Jason didn’t turn around. Didn’t even flinch. But his heart did a strange little lurch. He hated that it did, but it did.

There you were, standing a few feet away, your arms wrapped around yourself to shield against the Gotham night. You didn’t even seem to notice how out of place you were up here — on this rooftop, so far above the city you loved but could never truly understand. You weren't like him. Never would be.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said, his tone as dismissive as he could manage. "Go home, It’s dangerous up here."

Your eyes flickered with that same mixture of concern and defiance he was growing all too familiar with. "And I’m guessing you’re worried about me?" you said, your voice laced with quiet amusement.

Jason’s lip curled slightly, though it wasn’t a smile. More like a reflex. “I worry about everyone, you're no different.” He said flatly, his back still turned.

But even as he said it, the doubt crept in. You had a way of doing that — making him second-guess every cynical, hardened part of himself that wanted to pretend he didn’t care. But he didn’t let it show. He never did.

"I’m not helpless." you said softly, stepping a little closer, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you. "You don’t need to protect me. You don't have to worry me. Just please, tell me what's on your mind. Talk to me. Let me in." You wanted him so bad to just admit that he wanted you as much as you wanted him. You tried too hard to get him to open up to you, to get him to see what your relationship could be. He never listened.

The words hit him harder than they should have. He wanted to argue, to push you away again. You didn’t understand. You didn’t get what the world was really like, what it could do to someone like him. Someone who had already been destroyed once, who didn’t want to give it a second chance.

Instead, he just shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. "I’m not your protector. Just someone who knows better."

You raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. "So you’re telling me I shouldn’t be out here, too, but you’re not protecting me?" 

Jason didn’t answer. His gaze drifted away from her, back to the city lights, to the shadows below. But he didn’t walk away. He never did.

"You really think I can’t handle myself?" Your voice was quieter now, and for a moment, it almost sounded like you were teasing. Almost. 

Jason let out a breath, unable to keep the edge out of his voice. "You think you’re the only one who can handle themselves?" He turned his head just enough to catch her gaze. "This place doesn’t make you stronger. It makes you smarter. And if you’re not smart enough to get the hell out of it, you’ll get crushed. And that’s not something I’m willing to let happen."

The words left his mouth sharper than he’d intended, but he couldn’t stop them now. He never could when it came to you. 

You didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at him with those damn eyes that felt like they saw straight through his bullshit. Then, slowly, you took a step closer, not intimidated, but calm.

"Jason, you don’t have to pretend with me. I’m not going anywhere."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, though he’d never admit it. "I’m not pretending," he muttered, too quickly, and too defensively. 

The city stretched out beneath them, vast and indifferent, like a black sea dotted with the flickering lights of a thousand lives he would never touch. Jason stood there, his shoulders tense, his fists clenched. You were still beside him, too close for comfort, your presence a constant reminder of everything he couldn’t afford to feel. 

Focus, he told himself. Don’t let her in. Don’t let her do this to you.

But it was already too late.

You were right. He was pretending. 

Jason’s jaw tightened at the thought, and he could feel the familiar coldness creeping in — the walls he had built so carefully around himself, the ones that were starting to crack and crumble under your quiet, persistent gaze. The feeling of wanting to reach for you, of wanting to say the things that scared him more than anything else in this broken city, gnawed at him like a sickness. 

But no. He couldn’t do it. Not to you. Not again.

"You don’t get it," Jason said, his voice rougher than he meant it to be. He didn’t look at you, but he could feel you staring at him, that soft gaze that always seemed to see straight through him. "This isn’t… this isn’t some fairy tale. You can’t just waltz in here and fix me. I’m not… I’m not someone you can save. You don’t know what it’s like, and you never will."

He finally turned to face you, his eyes burning with something he couldn’t even name. "I’m dangerous. And you think you can handle me? You think you can be around me and still come out unscathed? You have no idea what this world does to people like us."

You didn’t back down. Of course you didn’t. You never did. Instead, you stepped closer, her voice low but steady. "I know enough, Jason. I know you’re scared. You don’t have to push me away—"

"Stop," Jason cut you off, his voice sharp, almost desperate. He took a step back, as if your proximity was suffocating him. "Stop pretending like you know me. Like you understand anything about me."

Your brows furrowed in confusion. "Jason, I—"

"I’m not the guy you think I am!" He didn’t shout, but his voice trembled with the raw emotion he refused to show. "I’m not the guy you can fix. You think I don’t care about you? That I don’t—" He stopped himself, the words lodged in his throat like broken glass. He could already feel the heat in his chest, the thumping of his heart, the same damn pain that had been there since he came back from the dead. 

His fists clenched tighter. "I’m not your fucking hero. I’m a killer. A broken, fucked-up, damaged thing, and you don’t want to get close to that."

The words came out in a rush, desperate, but also… final. His eyes were wild now, the storm inside him too strong to ignore, the war he’d been fighting with himself spilling out in a way he hadn’t intended. 

You stood there, silent for a moment, your face unreadable. Then your expression softened, a mixture of hurt and understanding flickering behind your eyes.

"I’m not trying to fix you," you said quietly, your voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air between them. "I’m just trying to be here. I’m trying to be someone you don’t have to push away."

Jason didn’t respond right away. He couldn’t. The words felt too raw, too close to something real. And that scared him more than anything. 

"You don’t understand," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "You can’t understand. I can’t let you in. Not like this. Not after everything."

He took another step back, further into the shadows, his heart pounding in his chest. Every instinct in him screamed to get away from you, to run, to push you out of his life before you were swallowed up by the darkness he carried with him.

"Jason," your voice was quiet now, soft, like you were trying to reach him through the thick walls he had built. "Please."

But he couldn’t do it. Not for you.

Jason shook his head, more to himself than to you. He turned his back on you, the weight of his decision heavy in the pit of his stomach. His feet moved automatically, the thought of staying with you—of letting you see him, really see him—was too much to bear. 

Before he could even reach the edge of the rooftop, he heard your voice again, fragile but clear.

"You don’t have to do this alone."

He froze. For a second, everything inside him wanted to turn around, to reach for you, to tell you how much he wanted to believe that. How much he wanted to let you in. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t let anyone in.

Jason's gaze lingered on the skyline, the weight of the city pressing down on him. His fists were still clenched, his jaw set tight, but inside, a storm was brewing, one that was just as chaotic as the one in the streets below. His heart was a mess of confusion and fear, and even though he wanted to push you away — needed to push you away — something about your quiet presence beside him made it feel impossible.

When you spoke again, your voice was gentle, almost like a whisper, yet it cut through the thick air between you with the clarity of truth. "You don't have to do this alone, Jason."

His eyes flickered to yours, and for a moment, he could barely breathe. He’d heard those words before, but never with the kind of sincerity that made him feel like he wasn’t alone in the universe. That maybe, just maybe, there was someone who saw through his walls, someone who wasn’t afraid of the darkness he carried.

He shook his head, his voice rough, trying to hold onto the hardness that kept him safe. "I told you, you don’t get it. You don’t know what it’s like."

"I don’t need to," you replied softly. "I just need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. Not if you let me stay."

Jason’s heart pounded in his chest, the words stirring something deep inside of him, something that scared him more than anything. He wanted to say something — push you away, explain why this couldn’t happen, why he couldn’t let you in.

But the words stuck in his throat.

You took a step closer, not backing down, but not rushing him either. And for the first time, in the midst of all the noise inside his head, he realized that you weren’t asking him to fix himself. You were just asking him to be real. To stop pretending. To let you in.

Without thinking, without even fully knowing what he was doing, Jason reached out, his hand hovering just inches from yours. The proximity felt like a tug, a pull he couldn’t ignore. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you stood there, looking at him with those eyes that had always been so damn patient, so damn sure.

And in that moment, something inside Jason broke open — a crack in the walls that had kept him safe for so long. He didn’t need to pretend anymore.

He moved before he could stop himself.

One step, then two, and suddenly, he was close enough to feel your breath against his skin, close enough that he could see the way your lips parted slightly, as though you were holding your own breath, waiting for him to make the next move.

And then, like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you, Jason closed the gap.

His lips brushed against yours in a slow, tentative kiss, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he pressed any harder. But you didn’t pull away. Instead, your hand reached up, cupping the side of his face, and you kissed him back, steady and sure.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat, his mind racing, but in that moment, it didn’t matter. The tension that had held him captive for so long unraveled, piece by piece, until all that was left was this — you, here with him, unafraid.

He kissed you deeper this time, a soft but desperate need in the way his mouth met yours. The world felt a little less heavy, like maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to carry the weight of it all on his own anymore.

When the kiss finally broke, Jason’s forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing in the same air, your hearts syncing in a way that made everything else fade into the background. He didn’t say anything at first. He couldn’t. But the words he didn’t have to speak were already there — in the way his hands found your waist, in the way his body relaxed against yours.

“I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice rough with the admission. "Scared I’m not… enough. That I’m too broken for anyone to be here. To be what you need."

You leaned into him, your arms wrapping around him, grounding him with the warmth of your touch. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you. And that’s enough for me, Jason. That’s more than enough.”

His chest tightened at your words, the sincerity of them striking deep. He wasn’t used to hearing that — wasn’t used to anyone seeing him for who he really was, not the mask he wore to survive, not the monster he sometimes thought he was.

But you did.

He let out a breath, the weight of everything in him finally beginning to lift. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

Jason closed his eyes, his heart a little lighter than before. Maybe he didn’t have to have all the answers. Maybe he didn’t have to be the hero, or the villain, or the broken man he always saw in the mirror.

Maybe he just needed to be someone who didn’t have to face the world alone.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, Jason realized that he wasn’t as lost as he thought. Not anymore.

For the first time in a long time, he was ready to face whatever came next.

And he was ready to face it with you.

[im2tired4usernames]

When you marry the live of your life and try to start a family but have complications and IUI is no longer a thing so you have to give up on that dream of children and remember according to who you voted for a marriage is only "husband wife with children" making your marriage void and a shame in the governments eyes you picked that for yourself

When your grandmother dies because she can't afford her blood thinner medicine because they've cut Medicare you did this

When your son gets diagnosed with type one diabetes and dies a slow agonizing death because you can't afford his insulin you did this

When your neighbor dies from an unknown illness because they can't afford doctor visits because Medicaid was cut you did this

When your diagnosed with cancer and you have to choose between your chemo or food, rent and utilities for your family you did this when you realize you can't even take work off because your dying you did this

When you realize your required to work 70 hours a week and overtime pay is a thing of the past you did this

When your neighbors are all rounded up and deported even though they came here legally and have all the paperwork to prove it "America is a country for Americans" right? When your 79 year old mother in law is deported will you hold your father in law's and wife's hands while they cry or will you tell them that too what do you tell the kids?

When your friends and coworkers have their marriages annulments what do you say to them? You know he's said he's not just coming for gay marriage but interracial marriage too in fact he's also said if you don't have biological children your marriage is void so?

When your daughters class mates are killing themselves because they're not seen as people because they're health care is void what do you tell her?

What do you say to the history books that you felt like certain people should not be allowed to live? That you felt like "gas prices" the cop out I've heard everyone say was more important then human lives?

When you finally learn what a tariff is and the taxes on every thing goes up by fifteen when it costs you thirty dollars more to buy that pair of shoes for work you did this to your self

When you find relgious freedom is not a thing and Christianity has taken control making it so you can't watch your favorite shows or movies you can't read those books anymore they've been deemed ungodly what do you say to everyone who doesn't have the same convictions? You think it's ok to drink beer on Sunday well the Christans in charge don't so. Your relgious freedom is forcing everyone regardless of their religion or lack of to learn it in school.

When you children come home from school, if they're lucky and you realize they haven't taught them much of all and your horrified your 14 son has no clue on state history remember you chose for them to uneducated

When your son n you fight because he wants to read a piece of fiction that the government deemed "to not have family values" remember when your child screams at his much he hates you you are the one who chose this

If the unthinkable happens and your child is shot in his classroom remember you chose this for your family.

When your wife is raped by her coworker and becomes pregnant then miscarriages and is put in prison for "murder" you did this

When four years are up and they've rewritten the constitution like they said they would changing the president terms and giving him complete power above the law, and made himself into a dictator remember when you can't vote anymore you did this.

What are you doin to say when history looks back on you because it will what do you say when the books paint you as an evil when they teach this in history when your grandkids go "wow grandad how could anyone vote for him didn't they listen didn't they hear all the warning signs why did someone chose hate and control why didn't someone stand up" what do you tell your grandkids that this is what you wanted that you were one of the nutters in their history books that chose violence and bigotry in exchange for your rights? You did this.

Do not be surprised when everyone else is dead that they come for you too.

To the men who voted for Donald Trump today:

When your girlfriend gets pregnant, and you’re not ready to become a father, and you’re forced into a position that cripples you emotionally, financially and irreversibly, remember: you did this.

When your sister’s pregnancy turns out to be ectopic, and she can’t get the life-saving medical care she needs and dies a completely pointless, preventable death, remember: you did this.

When your 12-year-old daughter is raped by her soccer coach — after he’s legally allowed to strip off her pants and peep at her genitals, because the existence of trans kids terrifies you — and she steals your shotgun and kills herself in your garage, remember, first and foremost: you did this.

Hundreds of thousands of people are going to die because of the decision you made today.

You did that.