#it wasn’t with vernon though unfortunately

[junrenjun]

love and lacrosse jackets

pe teacher!vernon x chemistry teacher!reader (fem)

genre: fluff

wc: 3k

warnings: reader is referred to as ms. (and other fem pronouns), reader wears vernon's clothes

a/n: this is not an understand series update and i apologize for that. however, here's a vernon teacher au with a little side of lacrosse and dad!seungcheol

You were suddenly thrown out of your thoughts by one of your students sighing and turning from her worksheet. “Ms. y/n, can I ask a question?” 

You knew this student, Maya, was likely trying to get out of doing her assignment. She was too smart for her own good. “Depends. Is it about the worksheet?” 

She paused for a second, turning her head slightly away in order to avoid your gaze. “...no.”

You continued. “Do you need to go to the bathroom or the nurse?”

Maya sighed and mumbled, “no.”

You turned back to your computer while giving your final response. “Then I think you know the answer. I would be happy to talk to you once you’ve balanced all those equations.” 

You should’ve known she wasn’t giving up that easily. If anything, she probably gave up halfway through the worksheet because she knew the answers and was just looking for something to entertain herself. “Mr. Chwe lets us ask him questions all the time.”

You snorted. “Mr. Chwe is a PE teacher Maya. You don’t have worksheets to do in his classes. Unfortunately, you do in chemistry. So please finish this or at least study for your quiz next week.” 

Maya was apparently taken aback by this. She was quick to defend herself, saying, “how do you know we don’t do worksheets in PE?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Maybe you should've been a college professor instead of a high school teacher. “I’m the girls lacrosse coach and he’s the boys coach. We spend a lot of time together and I’ve never once seen him make a worksheet.” 

An evil grin spread across Maya’s face. You internally groaned at this. That expression means she’s up to absolutely no good. She turned and tapped on her partner’s arm. Great, now she’s distracting other students too. “Henry, wouldn’t Ms. y/n and Mr. Chwe make a cute couple?” He grinned and started going off on a tangent about how funny it would be if the two lacrosse coaches were dating. 

This conversation really took a turn for the worse, didn’t it? There’s nothing you could do but groan, out loud this time, and put your head in your hands. Your neighboring teacher, Mr. Seokmin, really has impeccable timing though. He stuck his head through your door and grabbed your attention a few moments later. “Hey Ms. y/n, do you have a student that can run an errand for me real quick?”

Now was your chance. “Maya, since you seem to have no interest in balancing any more equations, why don’t you go help Mr. Seokmin?”

Before she could protest, the physics teacher grinned brightly at her before exclaiming, “perfect! Come on Maya, I need someone to help me carry these projects to the library.” Once she was finally out of the room, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

It didn’t last long though because your other students suddenly started giggling and murmuring amongst each other. Henry, who was still turned toward you, decided he needed to continue Maya’s antics in her absence. “You did say you and Mr. Chwe were close.” More giggles were heard. 

You’re not sure what you did to deserve this treatment from your 3rd hour honors class of all people, but clearly it was something. “Alright if you all don’t go back to your work I’m not offering any extra credit on this next quiz.” The rest of the hour passed in silence. 

“What’s with the long face?” Vernon thought the joking would cheer his best player up, but it just made Henry frown even more. 

After a few moments of silence, he finally answered, “I had a quiz in chemistry today. Don’t think I did too well on it.”

Vernon was quick to ask him which teacher he had. “Your favorite, Ms. y/n,” Henry responded. 

The PE teacher rolled his eyes at the comment but still clapped his hand on the player’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, kid. She offers extra credit. But she also told me you and Maya were pestering her the other day instead of doing your work, so maybe you should put a little more effort into understanding the material next time.”

Henry grumbled, knowing nothing good would come of an argument. “Yeah, whatever you say Coach.” Then, he dropped his bag on the ground and ran out onto the field to start warming up.

Vernon felt someone approach him from behind. “See dude, even the kids can pick up on you and y/n’s chemistry. Haha, get it? Chemistry? Y/n teaches chemistry.” The head coach could barely restrain himself from flicking Mingyu in the forehead. He was a great assistant coach, but an incredibly annoying friend. 

“Why can’t I just be friends with a coworker and fellow lacrosse coach?” Vernon complained. Mingyu simply watched on as his friend continued. “Just because we’re both single doesn’t mean we should get together. I mean she’s really cool and works really well with the kids. And she’s an insane lacrosse player, an even better coach too. I think she could get the girls to state this year. I just think…” He’s cut off by Mingyu smacking his arm. 

For once, he’s grateful for the assistant coach’s intrusion, because he turns around to find you jogging up to him. Weird, he thought to himself, since you and the girls have a game today. You skid to a stop next to the two, and make eye contact with him. “You don’t happen to have an extra SVHS shirt do you? I think I forgot my coaching shirt at home today and I really don’t want Seungcheol getting on my ass for it.” 

Vernon’s world comes crashing down at that moment. Maybe he does have a teensy little crush on you. Because the thought of you wearing his clothes has him swooning. Mingyu, ever so helpful, snaps him out of the moment by clearing his throat to yell at the boys for messing around. Vernon blinks at you for a second before stammering out, “uh yeah I think so,” and reaching into his bag. He pulls out a gray quarter zip with the words “SVHS” and “Coach Chwe” embroidered on the chest. He debates hiding it from your sight and shoving it back in his bag to save you both the embarrassment, but he knows how strict Seungcheol is as an athletic director. 

He eventually tosses it to you, stuttering out something about good luck while watching you throw it over your head. Once it’s on you say, “I have the same one, so hopefully no one sees the difference. Thanks Chwe.” He can’t even process your words because his brain is simply malfunctioning seeing you in his clothes, especially ones that say his name. He’s no better than his high schoolers. Before he knows it, you’re turning on your heel and jogging back to the main field. 

Someone comes up behind him, filling Mingyu’s absence, since the assistant coach ran off to lead practice drills in the middle of Vernon’s little crisis. He hears the lacrosse captain snickering and then telling him, “damn Coach, you’ve got it bad. You’re redder than a tomato.”

Vernon simply cannot handle it any further. “Oscar, for heaven’s sake, please shut your mouth and go back to practice.” Oscar throws his hands up in mock defense, before grabbing the ball that rolled over to Vernon’s feet and running back onto the field.

You really need to give Vernon his coach’s jacket back. It didn’t help that you weren’t a morning person, and seemed to accidentally leave it at home whenever you left for work each day. It also maybe didn’t help that it smelled just like the boy’s lacrosse coach, who, admittedly, smelled pretty damn good. But, you couldn’t hoard Vernon’s things forever. You were lucky enough that you had gone a week without him mentioning the jacket at all, which you chalked up to him knowing you were busy.

Tomorrow, you told yourself. Tomorrow you would take the jacket back to school and give it to him. You even laid it out with your own jacket, which you were going to wear the next since you had a game anyways. That, however, was a mistake. Because in the morning, groggy from lack of sleep, you accidentally threw on Vernon’s jacket and shoved your own into your work bag. 

How no one told you until 3rd period, you’re not quite sure. Mainly because Seokmin had specifically complimented your outfit when you visited him before your first class. You thought maybe it was because you were wearing a new pair of pants. Clearly it was not and the physics teacher was using it as a means to tease you (and Vernon by proxy). If only you had known.

Maya stepped into your classroom extra peppy that day, which was already a recipe for disaster. The fact that she was the one to catch that you were wearing Mr. Chwe’s zip-up certainly did not help. A gasped “oh my god” stopped you in the middle of your lecture. You pointedly looked at the girl before asking, “Maya, is everything alright?”

The poor girl could barely contain her excitement, practically shaking in her seat. “You’re dating Mr. Chwe! I knew it!”

You were caught so off-guard that it took you a while to respond. “Maya, where did you even get that idea from? And you’re being disruptive, I’m trying to teach about equilibrium.” 

She stood from her seat and pointed at you, before excitedly exclaiming, “your jacket. You’re wearing Mr. Chwe’s jacket!” You looked down and, sure enough, Vernon’s name was plastered across the chest. To put it plainly, you were mortified. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’ve embarrassed yourself even more when you don’t respond for a solid minute. 

Finally, when you’re done wallowing in pity in front of a bunch of 16 year olds, you make your way to your desk and pull out a hall pass. You hand it to Maya swiftly before telling her, “if you’re too invested in this to learn chemistry, go bother Mr. Chwe about it. It’s his planning period.” She gapes up at you before scrambling out of the room.

You turn back to the rest of the class, making sure to pointedly look at Henry. “No other questions about my love life?”

A deadly silence spreads across the room. Henry sinks back in his chair but you watch a hand creep up from the back of the classroom. You sigh and call on the girl. She’s clearly surprised you even allowed her to speak, because the question is whispered to the point you can barely hear it. “Why do you have Mr. Chwe’s jacket?”

The inquiry is enough to throw you off the deep end. “Ok, I’m not teaching the rest of class. I don’t care what you guys do as it’s either A) not disruptive or B) asking me about my personal life.” 

Seungcheol is surprised when there is a knock on the athletic office door in the middle of 3rd period. Students should be in class and if it were a staff member, they would have just let themselves in. He tells whoever it is to come in and is slightly less surprised to see Maya standing in front of him. She doesn’t let him speak first, quickly letting out, “do you know where Mr. Chwe is?”

He raises an eyebrow at the girl. “You got a hall pass kid?” he fires back. Maya waves the piece of paper around in his face. He rolls his eyes. 

She puts her hands on her hips and looks pointedly at him. “Seriously though. Do you know where Mr. Chwe is? It’s supposed to be his planning period or something.”

Seungcheol is still confused why she needs to see Vernon in the middle of 3rd hour and how she managed a hall pass for it. “Why?”

Maya plops down on the chair in front of his desk with a sigh, clearly this conversation was not happening without a little bit of a fight. “Ms. y/n sent me to ask him a question.”

The athletic director can’t help but let out a snort at the girl’s comment. Maya is suddenly interested in his reaction. “Why is that so funny? Do you think they’re dating too?”

Seungcheol is surprised yet again. “Do you think they’re dating?”

Now Maya snorts. “Obviously. Ms. y/n is wearing his lacrosse jacket today.” She laughs when the man’s eyes practically bulge out of his skull. He rustles around his desk, grabbing a notepad and writing another hall pass for the girl.

After scribbling for a second, he passes the note to the girl and tells her, “Mr. Chwe is in his office, room 218.”

The girl grabs the note from his hands and gleefully gets up to skip out the door. She stops midway through and calls out over her shoulder, “thanks Dad!”

“I’m not dating Ms. y/n, Maya. You know that.” Vernon sighs exasperatedly. “Why are you even asking me this?”

He knows he’s in for trouble when she smirks. “She’s wearing your coaching jacket today. Care to explain that?”

Vernon knows he should’ve asked for it back sooner rather than later. But he was secretly hoping that he would be able to see it on you one more time. And the longer you have it, the more likely it’s going to come back smelling like you (not that Vernon cares anyways right?). He doesn’t miss a beat though, explaining to Maya that he lent you his jacket for a game and that you probably mixed it up with your own. She’s not impressed, but she knows it’s an explanation that’s most likely true. This doesn’t stop her from interrogating Vernon further. “Do you want to date Ms. y/n?”

His silence is incriminating. He can tell by Maya’s mile wide grin. Trying to put an end to it, the lacrosse coach stands up from his desk, telling her that he’ll walk her back to whatever class she left from.

One tiny important detail he forgot is that you teach 3rd hour honors chemistry. A class that one of his players, Henry, shares with Maya. And he’s currently standing outside your door, watching as you type away on your computer. Sure enough, “Mr. Chwe” is embroidered across the chest. Vernon thinks he might combust on the spot. His student clearly picks up on this, muttering something about how she’s “seen middle schoolers with more balls.” 

He waits outside your door as Maya enters the room. There’s only a few minutes left of the period, so he figured it would be better for both of you to talk away from prying eyes. As the bell rings, he patiently watches the students trickle out your door. When he’s sure that everyone is gone, he steps into the doorway. What he does not expect is for you to walk straight into his chest, stumbling back with the cutest “oomph” he’s ever heard. 

Vernon is stunned but you look completely mortified. Probably because you just ran into the man whose jacket you’re wearing basically without his consent. His assumption is correct because you start mumbling out apologies. “I’m so sorry I thought this was my jacket when I grabbed it this morning. I didn’t mean to wear it today, I made such a mess of this. I shouldn’t have even asked for it in the first place. I was just about to change, give me a second I…”

The lacrosse coach cuts you off in the middle of your little rant. “Do you want to go out with me after your game on Friday?” 

You blink at him, not even processing the words he just said. When you finally do, your cheeks flush and you glance down at your watch. “Do you think you can ask me that in like 4 hours, Chwe?”

Vernon has no idea what you mean by that. He gawks a little bit. Do you need time to think about it? Are you not interested? Do you already have a boyfriend? Shit, he should’ve thought this through.

You break him out of his little trance with a small chuckle. “We’re on the clock Vernon. And you have a class in three minutes.” 

He glances at his watch. His freshman PE class is probably waiting for him. He mumbles something about meeting him on the main field before practice. Then he’s out the door. You’re left there, stunned, still in his jacket. You don’t bother to take it off the rest of the day.

A few hours later, Mingyu and Seokmin are watching you both converse from afar. Vernon’s cheeks are the reddest they’ve ever been. You’re fidgeting nervously but also smiling. It seems to be going well. Seokmin turns to the assistant coach before saying, “took them long enough.”

They hear someone approaching and turn to see Seungcheol. “You both owe me $20.” 

Both the teachers roll their eyes at him but reach for their wallets. Maya pops up from their other side, walking up to her father. “I should be getting at least half of that. I did all the work.” 

Seungcheol grunts, pondering her proposition. He turns to her. “What about this? You can either get $20 now or $200 if y/n is Mrs. Chwe before you graduate college?”

Maya’s eyes brighten and that sinister smile spreads across her cheeks once again. “Deal.” (She’s $200 richer at her college graduation).

[chocosvt]

HER | part six (m).

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.6k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s! 

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that! 

bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.

here it is... the FINAL part 😭 it seemed that a number of you were quite worried as to how i'd wrap this up, and i can finally give you the answer! :3 this has been an epic journey. thank yew for ur time 💕

more rambling continues at the very end. as per usual. again, a little bit more of an early upload! as a treat <3

⇢ part one | part two | part three | part four | part five ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

—SEPTEMBER 30TH.

The morning after was strange.

Early sunlight permeated through the living room’s white cloth curtains, dappling in water-like speckles against the glasses still held on his nose. For a moment, Wonwoo was frozen, as his mind made the shift from deep sleep to consciousness, though when he finally did awaken to find his blanket half-pushed off the recliner and the remnants of Chinese takeout left scattered across the coffee table, his lethargy started fading.

Vernon was gone.

Judging from the text on Wonwoo’s phone, the boy had quietly made his way out at around seven in the morning. It surprised Wonwoo to no end that Vernon could manage to sleep so little yet remain fully functional all the time. He seemed magic—or maybe it was something else that Wonwoo would be concerned to know about.

He spent some time cleaning off the coffee table.

Down the hall, his bedroom door remained closed.

When you finally did emerge, it was with the olive-green dress draped over your arm and the ivory heels in hand, which you proceeded to arrange on the small dining table by the kitchen.

Notably, however, there was something off about you, something that Wonwoo interpreted as nerves with an underlying awkwardness you didn’t typically, if at all, demonstrate. When he asked if you wanted breakfast and tea, your response was a tiny head shake and a poorly fit smile. Though, Wonwoo wasn’t going to paw at you.

He found that mornings always tended to be quite sobering, even if he hadn’t exactly drunk enough to make the room spin or swallowed some colourfully disguised pill on his tongue. Just the air was enough to rewire his head—that cooler, crisp air that he either loved or hated.

Undoubtedly, you had much to think about.

Wonwoo helped you get a hold of Princess using his phone, and the two of you watched television in silence while waiting for her to pick you up. He escorted you down through the pottery shop when it was time, and you sported very little shame, walking out onto the bright city sidewalk in just his t-shirt, clothes and shoes wrapped in your arms. Princess had this awfully perplexed look slapped onto her face while leaning over to nudge the car door open for you, and in that  moment, Wonwoo was scared of how it all appeared and what might transpire now that the giddiness and frivolity from the night before had ebbed away. He didn’t regret anything, though. Not at all.

But, in truth, what the fuck even were you two?

And what was supposed to happen now?

—OCTOBER 3RD.  

Since you had left his apartment in a daze that Saturday morning, Wonwoo hadn’t seen or heard from you. It was concerning him as time passed, he couldn’t deny it, but he also trusted you and wanted not to make you feel pressured into explaining yourself.

He was caught in a brisk walk along campus after leaving his early lecture, a warm coffee cup pressed against his lip that he had grabbed from the ground floor of SRX—they had been giving hot drinks away for free, and, consequently, it tasted like it. Nonetheless, the air was chillier by the day as autumn pushed its way in and decorated the walkway with dry leaves that rustled and crunched under his shoes. It was nice to have something hot in his hand.

He took a second to glance down at his phone.

Still, no messages from you, Wonwoo realized with a suckling sip of the very watery coffee, nearly tempted to text you himself—not anything pushy—just a simple reassurance that he was there for you if things weren’t going well.

Suddenly, however, Wonwoo had smacked into someone.

“Fuck—sorry,” he muttered, readjusting the computer bag slung over his shoulder and pushing up his circled glasses.

To Wonwoo’s complete and utter misery, he was unfortunately acquainted with the person he’d bumped shoulders, and now he was wishing that he had just kept walking like an impatient asshole.

Seokmin was standing before him, dressed in a similar-style woolen trench coat that his hands were stuffed into, the sun turning certain threads of his chocolate brown hair all shimmery. He hadn’t gotten back to Seokmin’s numerous texts ever since Wonwoo sent a brief, very purposefully vague message to the boy that night he ran out with you at the dinner party.

Now he was wondering if the shoulder bump was intentional.

“Wonwoo… uh, hey,” Seokmin stumbled.

Sniffling, Wonwoo let a second or two pass before answering.

He was still debating whether or not to walk away.

“What’s up?”

“You just get out of class, or?”

Wonwoo nodded. “Yeah—advanced stats.”

Seokmin flitted a barely-there smile, staring at his coffee cup.

“Is that the free stuff from SRX?”

“Indeed.”

“How does it taste?”

“Uh, watery… like shit, basically.”

Wonwoo knew—he fucking knew—that there was something buzzing on the tip of Seokmin’s tongue that he just couldn’t spit out. His absentminded expression and clear not-giving-a-damness about whether Wonwoo’s free coffee was actually good completely betrayed him. Not wanting to dawdle and get stuck in the mud of conversation, Wonwoo swallowed the lump in his throat, flashed his friend a tight-lipped smile, and pitched a goodbye, blandly wording it as, “I won’t keep you. Later.”

But Seokmin didn’t seem prepared to let that happen.

And Wonwoo’s eyes nearly rolled backward into his skull when the boy turned around and attempted to catch his attention again.

For some stupid, incomprehensible reason, Wonwoo stopped.

Maybe he knew the conversation needed to happen.

It only made him loathe the situation more.

“Yeah?”

Seokmin dragged a hand through his hair, brushing it up and down against the back of his head while he squinted at Wonwoo.

“I think… uh… if you’re not busy… I think there’s maybe some stuff we need to talk about. I don’t mean to like, catch you at a bad time or anything… do you wanna go sit at the picnic table over there?”

At Seokmin’s carefully suggested inquiry, Wonwoo followed the boy’s pointing finger toward the empty table placed on the large grass circle that the walkway wove around. With his grip hardening into the coffee cup, Wonwoo stopped to think despite knowing his answer.

“Okay… yeah.”

Wonwoo realized it had never felt this weird and stilted to sit down with Seokmin despite him being quite a reliable friend over the months, though Wonwoo was developing the sneaking feeling that his study buddy was about to deal an irreparable blow to their relationship. Seokmin’s folded hands were sitting atop the flecked, aged wood of the table, thumbs nervously twiddling, meanwhile Wonwoo remained silent to sip from his coffee that only became more and more tasteless.

Eventually, his friend seemed to find the words he needed.

“So, I don’t know if you’ve heard… but… Her and Mingyu are taking a break. They’re officially pressing the big pause button. I wasn’t there to witness the conversation, although I get the gist it was a pretty… uh, unpleasant talk,” Seokmin winced, bracing his teeth, “and… well, naturally, I learned that you were a big part of that talk, seeing how it looked and all—you and Her running out at the dinner party…”

He left what seemed like a purposeful pause, and Wonwoo assumed that he was supposed to feel pressured and jump to make a correction or provide an explanation, but he kept silent and rather expressionless. Ironically, Seokmin was the one to continue his spiel.

“Well, basically, there were some accusations thrown around as you can imagine. And I’m not sitting here to point a finger and question you to death about everything, but I just thought I’d give you the table—uh, literally—to explain what’s been happening.”

Wonwoo finally set aside his drink, then shifting off the strap to his computer bag, letting it fall down his shoulder. He didn’t make a huge, overwhelmed sigh even though his body was screaming for it, nor did he ponder abandoning the conversation despite the magnitude of everything Seokmin laid out for him.

Fuck—he hated being matured.

“I can’t speak on her feelings. But I like her.”

“Oh—you do?” Seokmin was astonishingly surprised.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Yeah.”

“So, then, does that mean—”

“Actually, sorry, I’m downplaying it like a coward,” Wonwoo interrupted, shaking his head, “I don’t just like her. I’m in love with her.”

It was then that Seokmin simply didn’t speak at all. His mouth had formed a hollowed shape, resembling something like a gulping fish, and Wonwoo capitalized on the silence to keep his thoughts fluent.

“I understand, okay? I understand why Mingyu is pissed. It takes two to tango, I get all that. And I know you probably want me to state my regret and all that so I don’t seem like such an asshole, but, honestly, I don’t really regret anything. Mingyu doesn’t care about her.”

Seokmin chuffed, rubbing at his chin. “Okay… I don’t know if I would go as far as to say that in particular. But you are admitting to it? I don’t know what it is you’ve done but you’ve done things with Her.”

“We’ve never had sex if that’s what you’re asking.”

“And—”

“We’ve never kissed, either… the only thing I was supposed to do was help her write that little love story. Which you set up, by the way. I didn’t know it would turn into this. I tried to get out of it.”

“I never thought she would stick it out.”

“I know.” Wonwoo sucked in his bottom lip, staring across the weathered wood at Seokmin. “You probably wanted her to drop it the second she mentioned it. I bet Mingyu thought the same.”

Seokmin scrunched up his face in disagreement. “That’s not necessarily true. She just fixates on stuff and then burns out after. She's always been like that, ever since I've known her. I figured the book would be no different. I thought it was something she needed to get out of her system, I didn’t think it would start rolling and—” he leaned forward into his palms for a moment, swallowing audibly. “Sorry, I just—I don’t get it, that’s all. I don’t get her fixations.”

“I think you’re just uncomfortable with her self-expression.”

“She—it’s not self-expression, though. Look, I know a pinch of what her story is about. It’s not about herself. It’s about Mingyu.”

“You think that just because she’s writing about someone else, there’s no pieces of herself in it? Her own feelings? Her own perspective? C’mon, Seokmin. You’re fucking smarter than that. You know what it's actually about.”

His friend’s eyes drifted away from him.  

Wonwoo then cleared his throat. “Look, you don’t really need all the details, Seokmin. Like I said, I don’t know exactly how she feels about me. I can surmise. I can say we’ve had moments that we shouldn’t. But—genuinely—you probably know more than I do and you’re lying to yourself if you can’t realize that Mingyu is just some advantageous prick who makes her miserable.”

“Well, I think that—I don’t know if it’s really—”

“He walked into an opportunity with her and he knew it. His whole fucking life and career was basically set up for him the second he met her family. He’s beyond lucky Her ever looked his way.”

“Jeez, Wonwoo. Honestly, it’s not like that.”

“How is it not?”

Seokmin ran a hand through his hair, appearing flustered and without a tongue to make sense. “Just—okay—I’ve been around them a lot. I know how it seems from an outsider’s view. They can argue and push buttons. Their relationship isn’t perfect, but whose is? Mingyu didn’t just walk into the family asking for this and that—he’s never asked for anything, no handouts. Everything that’s been ‘set up’ for him was because Her’s family wanted it. They know he’s a good guy.”

The scoff shot from Wonwoo’s mouth like an arrow. “I’m sorry but, what do they want for Her? Were we at the same dinner party? Did you see her nearly burst into tears? She has to live life in this rigid box, trying to conform to everyone else around her. Don’t you think she wants to live her own life? Be her own person?”

“Of course, but—”

“No—why is there even a ‘but’?”

“I don’t think you understand. Her has everything she needs.”

“You mean, what everyone thinks she needs.” Wonwoo tossed his hand up in the air, laughing, while also getting the strong impulse to ring out his friend’s neck. “It doesn’t make any sense to me. How can you be so close to her, but you don’t realize how unhappy she is? You know what I think? You’re part of it, Seokmin. You're always in her business, hovering, watching, sewing seeds of doubt, shooting down her interests—and you disguise it as help. No one in that house listens to her. They’ve told her who she should be instead of letting her figure it out for herself. How can you be so complicit in that? She gets no support from any of you, about the decisions in her life that actually matter. And Mingyu—honestly, he can go fuck himself. He’s just as complicit as you. He’s soul-sucking.”

“God—sh-she’s an adult.” Seokmin was exasperated, his cheeks reddening like two ripe apples. “She doesn’t have to visit her parents. She doesn’t have to date Mingyu. Nothing is forced on her. No one is dragging her there. I help because I know what she's capable of. I know the perfect life she can have. Her parents know, too. But she just gets sidetracked! She gets wrapped up in stuff that doesn't matter! If she hates everything, she can easily walk away.”

“But you guys have made that so impossible for her.”

“How?”

Wonwoo proceeded to clench his fist up so tight he thought his skin might bleed, the edge of his knuckles pressing down on the table.

“She doesn’t know who the fuck she is.”

Seokmin instantly paled. He looked whiter than a snowflake.

“That’s like clipping a bird’s wings and then asking why it can’t fly away. Knowing who you are is such a big part of life. It’s arguably the foundation. What the fuck do you want her to do? I don’t even—I honestly don’t even want to look at you, Seokmin. Let Mingyu beat me up if he wants to—let it happen a thousand times—” slinging the computer bag back over his shoulder, Wonwoo was rising from the picnic table while glaring down at the stiff, empty-faced Seokmin, who had suddenly morphed from a friend to a bitter stranger, “—I don’t care what he thinks. It’s not going to change how I feel about her, or make me stay away. I’ve seen who she can be and what she actually wants from life, and it's not some snotty, vapid, copy-and-paste hell that her parents are forcing on her. But neither of you seem to give a shit. You’re both completely undeserving.”

Stepping away from the bench, Wonwoo tensed his jaw as the sunlight splashed over him, breaking in between the skeletal trees and their resilient orange leaves. “Got everything you wanted to know? Go run it back to Mingyu. I’m sure that’s what you were gonna do anyway.”

The anger in his chest felt like it was going to crawl out from his mouth and squeeze Seokmin into a ball, therefore Wonwoo exercised his breathing while on a strict path back down the walkway.

Abandoning Seokmin did hurt him more than he had thought, knowing he just lost a friend from his already very limited circle, someone whom he clicked with so readily. At the same time, however, there was a lightness about it. As Wonwoo’s frustration seeped out during the walk back to his apartment, some of the weight pressed into his shoulders released itself like water evaporating from a blacktop.

He just wished he could be at your side more than anything.

There was obviously a reason for your silence.

[ Wonwoo | 11:28 am ]: I heard about the break.

[ Wonwoo | 11:28 am ]: I’m here if you need anything at all.

…

[ Her | 4:05 pm ]: you talked to seokmin?

[ Wonwoo | 4:07 pm ]: Yeah. Never again.

[ Her | 4:07 pm ]: mingyu is so mad

[ Wonwoo | 4:07 pm ]: I figure.

[ Her | 4:08 pm ]: please avoid him if you can. i’m worried

[ Wonwoo | 4:08 pm ]: I’m not.

[ Her | 4:08 pm ]: wonwoo he’s seriously pissed

[ Her | 4:08 pm ]: can’t you hang out with vernon some more

[ Wonwoo | 4:09 pm ]: Seriously?

[ Her | 4:09 pm ]: yes

[ Her | 4:09 pm ]: mingyu got into trouble with dots and had a real big scare. so he doesn’t like to mess much with him or his friends. he'll showboat but that's about it

[ Her | 4:09 pm ]: well ik dots died but u get the point

[ Wonwoo | 4:10 pm ]: Fair.

[ Wonwoo | 4:10 pm ]: But I can’t just pull Vernon around as my Mingyu repellent lol. Honestly, if he wants to rock me, idc.

[ Her | 4:10 pm ]: well I do care

[ Her | 4:10 pm ]: ugh

[ Her | 4:11 pm ]: life has been sucking so hard lately

[ Wonwoo | 4:11 pm ]: I want to come see you.

[ Her | 4:11 pm ]: I want that too. but I need more time, k?

[ Wonwoo | 4:12 pm ]: I know.

[ Wonwoo | 4:12 pm ]: Here if you need me.

—OCTOBER 18TH.

For the past two weeks, Wonwoo had been walking around with the looming possibility of getting jumped by your six-foot tall, rather muscley boyfriend, and he was thus very relieved to have made it this far without eating a fist to the face. Well, now Mingyu was an ex.

Maybe.

The pause in your relationship read like a gray area that Wonwoo had been treading the thinnest eggshells on, prompting him to wait and hear the truth from you directly whenever you felt steady enough to tell him. He wondered if today might be that day.

Placing another strawberry onto the cutting board, Wonwoo chopped his knife through the leafy green bit, removing the stem. The cleaned-up strawberry was then dropped into a bowl of fresh ones that you had been picking away at for the past few minutes or so.

Wonwoo smiled while grabbing another berry to cut.

“I feel like this bowl hasn’t gotten any fuller, for some reason.”

Your legs were swinging as you sat atop the small kitchen island while looking down at his every movement with the knife. Once he  dropped another cut strawberry into the bowl, you scooped it out.

“Just making sure they don’t go bad,” you responded, shrugging.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “The fruit you buy usually goes bad within the minute? Are you getting into a fist fight with it?”

You poked at his hip with your socked foot. “Well, you said you were cutting it for me. So can I eat it or not? I’m getting mixed signals.”

“No, of course you can eat it. I’m just teasing.”

“I don’t do too well with delayed gratification.”

Wonwoo smiled at you, proceeding to remove the last few strawberries from the basket to cleanly dissect their stems. He then turned around, tossing the cutting board and knife into the stainless-steel sink with a clatter. After washing his hands, he was back at the island, noticing that the bowl was now seated in your lap like a bag of movie theatre popcorn with just the perfect amount of butter and salt. For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t say anything—that focused look to your face as you ate the fruit he prepared was much too captivating. He wanted to catch one of your swinging legs, pull you right to the counter’s very edge and have you wrap yourself around him. He wanted everything with you.

In your earlier days together, Wonwoo used to be a lot more evasive about his staring (at least, that’s what he wanted to believe), but now he didn’t feel as required to be so painfully subtle and imperceptible about things. He let you snack until you were satisfied, the empty bowl then being exchanged with a damp rag to clean your fingers.

“So,” clearing his throat, Wonwoo braced his hands against the granite island and glanced at you from behind his glasses, scanning down the unbothered, relatively straight face you had, “everything going okay?”

Pressing your lips together, you nodded, making only an “mhm” sound that didn’t leave much to be interpreted.

Wonwoo saw the hands that plunged swiftly between your thighs, how you were quick to squeeze around them, like there existed something weighted and hidden.

He wanted to leave it up to your discretion—he really did.

“Okay, that’s good… just—uh, he’s not giving you a hard time, right? He’s not bothering you at all?” Wonwoo asked, adjusting the rim of the black beanie he’d thrown on to keep his messy hair tucked back. “I don’t mean to disinter anything. I’m only asking because I—”

“Because you care,” you finished his sentence quietly with a trusting and faint smile, “I know. Thank you. It is hard for me, though… I don’t know why this particular thing is so hard but it is.”

Wonwoo slid his hands together, moving them slow along the cold granite. “No… that’s understandable. I get it plenty.” Hell—he didn’t just get it—Wonwoo had miserably and insufferably lived it for damn near a year at that point. In fact, tomorrow would mark the day that he came home to this same apartment only to discover the interior stripped of all the traces, sentiments, and artifacts that breathed miraculous life into the girl he once thought to be his other half.

A whole fucking year without Jeanie.

How flipped things were. How oddly coincidental that he was now in the same space but with a new person to create everlasting memories. You had the most opposite personality and spark.

Wonwoo sighed. He got close to you, settling his hand atop your knee before gliding it underneath your thigh, gripping at you firmly and pulling you forward until he was bracketed in between your legs. Your response was smitten, and he couldn’t deny that he loved to practically see your heart beating under your chest in addition to sensing the warmth that flourished off your skin like you were sizzling in a pan.

Wonwoo set one hand down on the counter, right next to your hip, while the other tended to the side of your face, his fingers running behind your ear and down the slender path to your silk-smooth neck.

“Look…” he breathed out, finding your eyes that were now a bit watery and tinged with stinging emotion, “I know it’s hard. And I would never rush you into figuring things out… but I like you…” Wonwoo swallowed, letting his thumb play with your earring meanwhile his deep voice triggered the sharp, raised hairs spreading down your arms like an electric current, “I love spending time with you—even just being in the same room as you, getting to stare at you—but I just—when I don’t know what you are to Mingyu, I don’t know what to do with us.”

You drew in an immediate breath, then releasing a quiet laugh mixed with a runny sniffle. “I-It seems like you know…”

He pushed both his hands into the countertop, smiling at you.

“Well, I know what I want to do…” Wonwoo murmured, gazing so intimately into your eyes as the oceans he urged to drown in, “but you have to understand my reservations about it. That’s all.”

Bringing a pinky finger to your mouth to nibble on, you nodded.

Softly, he pinched the bare expanse of your waist. You gasped.

“Because I do, in fact, want you.”

You didn’t say anything, although Wonwoo noted that you were staring back into his gaze with so many hues of simple human emotion pulsating behind your eyes—there was frustration, possibly at yourself and everything you couldn’t yet communicate, and twinkles of impulse that matched rhythm with your heart. Then, employing unforeseen abruptness, your fingers were running down the back of his neck all ticklish and he felt the warmth from your breath feather his lips as you moved in closer, smirking at him, hazy like a sunrise pouring its light through a thick cover of morning fog.

“If you can be patient for just a little longer, you'll have all of me.”

Thankfully (or maybe not so thankfully judging from the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins in a hedonistic, addictive sort of way) there were a few knocks at his door.

Your eyes rolled. “Is that your landlord or something?”

Wonwoo took a step back, letting you slide off the countertop while he adjusted his glasses and brushed down his t-shirt. How were you suddenly so casual? One second you were chewing nervously on your finger with the timidness of a newborn doe and the next—back to your typical self. He watched you approach the door, tilting his head.

“Uh, maybe? She usually texts me, though.”

“Or Seokmin with a batch of chocolate apology brownies.”

He chuckled, folding his arms. “Doubt it.”

Really, Wonwoo had no idea who it could be. It possibly was his landlord who had perhaps forgotten her usual warning text, or maybe his younger, sometimes irresponsible neighbour across the hall who would specifically ask to borrow his scent-free laundry detergent every now and then. As long as it wasn’t Lady Liberty on the other side (in Vernon’s tried and true nicknaming spirit) then Wonwoo had no reason to care.

“Welp,” you made a balmy, popping sound with your lips, “only one way to find out. I think I can smell the chocolate.” But once the door was pulled open, that little joking smile fell from your face concerningly fast, as though someone had plucked it right off.

Fuck—Wonwoo thought right off the cuff—it was Lady Liberty.

Your head quirked ever so slightly. “Uh, hello…”

Whoever the person was, they were just outside the threshold of what Wonwoo could see from his spot in the kitchen—except, now he didn’t think it was Mingyu at all, since your tone seemed more confused than anything else.

For a moment, Wonwoo just stood where he was, not particularly understanding why he couldn’t even twitch a measly finger.

“Hi—I’m sorry, is this the—is this—does Wonwoo still live here?”

From across the room, you shifted him a glance.

There was a heavy pause before you answered.

“… Yeah.”

“O-Oh, well… um… I’m so sorry, but are you living here as well? Is he home? I don’t mean to bother or anything. I guess I came by on a whim. It’s a little hard to explain… I can always come back later.”

At that point, Wonwoo was making his way beside you.

That voice—that delicate wispy voice, lighter than a tuft of cotton adrift through the breeze under a salt blue sky—there was such a familiarity about it that he was getting dizzier by the second. Your jaw was distinctly clenched as Wonwoo stopped at your side.

He took one look into the hallway and damn near fainted.

“What the fuck…” Wonwoo whispered, his mouth suddenly stark of moisture as he lifted a hand to grab the door’s edge, “Jeanie?”

“Uh, hey, Wonwoo.”

Wait—never mind, never mind—he panicked. Maybe he did want it to be Mingyu. In fact, Wonwoo would have anticipated Bohyuk showing up outside his door, or his parents, or his girlfriend of two weeks back in sixth grade who broke up with him over a juice box before he could guess that his ex who disappeared without a trace would be there.

It sounded borderline insane, but Wonwoo almost wanted to poke her just to test if she was even real. She looked real. She sounded real. You didn’t seem to be staring into empty space while side-eyeing him worriedly, rather you had very much acknowledged her. Wonwoo’s grip fastened to the door, then realizing he was using it as a personal crutch to keep him upright as his legs slowly regained their rigidity and strength. He also realized that you likely had no idea who she was until her name had been distantly tugged from his lips by his instincts.

Jeanie splayed out her hands in a demonstration of submission.

“If it’s a bad time, I can come back later…”

Wonwoo noted that you had taken a step away from the door, although you continued to stare at Jeanie with a countenance that refused to spoil much—it seemed inquisitive and curious but still hardened—the moment was probably overwhelming you, too.

He gulped dryly, flicking his eyes back to her. “Uh, well, I wasn’t even—you’re like, the last person I would expect to see and—”

“It’s okay. I’ll leave.”

Jerking back to you, Wonwoo nearly gave himself whiplash.

“Her—you don’t need to—”

But you shook your head.

Grabbing the cream purse off the couch and slipping back into your comfortable, clean white tennis shoes, you seemed eager to go while simultaneously jaded at the circumstances.

“No, don’t worry about it,” you stopped in front of Wonwoo, adjusting the strap wove around your shoulder, “this seems important, so… I don’t want to stand in the way of anything… I’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

Then, you turned to Jeanie, sticking out your hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She looked to Wonwoo for a split second.

“Um, yeah, you as well…” Jeanie eventually accepted the handshake, sounding breathy with nerves, “sorry about all this.”

While making your way to the staircase, Wonwoo quickly stepped into the corridor and waved at you, feeling his chest tighten.

“I’ll call you, okay?”

You flashed a transient smile. He hated watching you leave.

Jeanie was watching you, too, hands politely folded at her abdomen, bunny rabbit teeth digging at the skin of her ruby-stained and calloused lips. She had always been a chronic lip-biter—anxiety, thrill, or stress, Wonwoo vividly remembered the blisters she absentmindedly inflicted unto herself from the bad habit, similar to the scars marking the cuticle of his thumb. After a year Jeanie looked different no doubt, but she also reflected an unchanged image through her conserved, fidgety behaviours. She was shy like a budding flower kept just short of the sun.

“Are you okay if I come in?” Jeanie mumbled, hardly able to maintain eye contact with Wonwoo for no more than a second or two.

He stepped back, beckoning indoors.

“Yeah… that’s fine, I guess.”

“Looks pretty nice in here…” she remarked soft-spokenly, taking a moment to marvel the space she once came home to every day, although she couldn’t seem more like a stranger to the apartment even if she tried—like a magazine cutout slapped onto a novel.

Wonwoo rubbed under his nose. “Well… I make due.”

Her hair used to be a symmetric, blunt length with her chin, but she had clearly grown it out over the months. The black tresses thrived in long and loose ribbons down her back, shinier than sea glass polished by rough waves. She was never one to wear much makeup either—trimming her eyebrows, glossing her lips, and flicking on some mascara was all she really ever cared to do, and Wonwoo remembered being in love with her simplicity.

Jeanie proceeded to walk behind the couch, squeezing the back in her hands. She was so tiny. That hadn’t changed much. He could only stand in one place, keeping still, examining her every movement and fighting against the trillions of voices clawing to his mind’s surface.

“Feels strange to be in here,” she laughed, running her fingers along the couch’s fabric, staring around the space, “I think it definitely has more of your touch now… it was nice to see Saskia again, too.”

“Yeah.”

She stopped on him. “You look well. Healthy.”

Wonwoo squinted at her. “Why are you here?”

He didn’t say it in a rude, impatient way. Genuinely, Wonwoo wasn’t angry with her, not like he might have been a few months ago.

But he was confused and feeling increasingly anxious. You were gone, probably on your way back home, though Wonwoo wished you hadn’t left at all, even if it were to make things sticky and awkward. Your presence in a room was the comfort he badly, painfully missed.

“Sure,” Jeanie cleared her throat, “I’ll explain. Care to sit?”

Together, they nestled onto the couch.

Wonwoo was kept to one end while Jeanie sat more in the middle, pulling at the long, flowy hem of her fern-patterned blue dress.

He tugged at the rim to his beanie, waiting for her to speak.

The girl gripped onto her knees, poised a soft, gentle look in his direction while taking in a breath. Their nerves seemed to be coalescing like different colours bleeding from freshly soaked paintbrushes. If anxiety were personified into butterflies, the room would start fluttering.

“I guess I thought it was time. Taking a shot in the dark, I know. I didn’t know if you would still be here, but I got lucky…” she clutched at her dress, fingers pulling into the airy material. “Wonwoo, it’s not like I don’t think about you, or wonder about you. I know what I did, how much it hurt… then I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to come back to here, with you. But I processed it all and it became an itch I had to scratch.”

Puffing out through his nose, Wonwoo almost laughed.

“Yeah—you wanted to see if I, what? Threw myself off the building or persevered, becoming some big money writer?”

Jeanie blinked at him a few times, furrowing her neat, straight brow, with every hair gelled down perfectly in place.

Wonwoo shook his head, lifting out his hand.

“Okay, my bad. That sounded like such an asshole thing to say.”

“No, it’s okay. I get it.” Her cheeks flooded with a tide of rosy pink as she chuckled. “I-I just… well, you seem different now.”

He pushed up his glasses. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

“In a good or bad way?”

Jeanie clasped her hands together, thumbs tapping.

“Well, I guess you seem more... upfront, not as prevaricating. Maybe that’s how you’ve always been and I just never really saw it or you picked it up from someone else.”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Probably a bit of both.”

“I am sorry. I know it was all so… sudden. I know this is sudden. I thought about calling... my hands would just shake so much whenever I picked up the phone, getting all sweaty and stuff. It felt like something that I had to just do. And, well, once I was back in the area, I didn’t even want to lend myself time to dwell. I only came in yesterday.”

“You went back home, then?”

“I did.”

“I figured… well, I got the hint pretty clear when your mom sent me that email. It was only a sentence or two long, but it hurt like hell.”

“It’s what I asked her to send. It’s all I felt you needed to know.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

Jeanie sighed, “I feel warranted in what I did… even so, I-I think I owe you an apology. Because, well, you were and still are someone I regard highly. You were going through something pretty serious… I mean, it’s obvious you’re taking such better care of yourself.”

 “It definitely hasn’t been linear.”

Tucking some hair behind her ear, the girl smiled. “Well, what in life really is? It only feels that way when you’re going straight down.”

He hmphed, thinking. “… Yeah. Really though, don’t worry about it. An apology isn’t necessary. You’ve always been too gracious.”

“I-I guess… but, I think it is, since—”

“Jeanie, c’mon. It’s really not. I was dragging you down.”

“Wonwoo, I feel like—”

“I’m telling you—”

“Well, I’m telling you and it would mean a lot if you just let me speak and get this off my chest. Please. Then you can have the floor. Tell me to package it all back up. Whatever it is you have to say. But I spent our entire relationship just listening and trying to understand you and interpret all your vague signals when I should have been trying to understand myself, and what I wanted. I’m not the verbose type, I know that. Going off on longwinded tangents about my feelings has never been something that suits me but I’m here now and I owe it to the girl who just sucked it all up, all the time, trying to be this perfect girlfriend for you.”

He managed a long, introspective breath.

Fuck—he really did owe her that. He owed her so much more.

“… Okay,” Wonwoo nodded complicity, “you’re right.”

“Leaving was the very last thing I wanted. I swear it. I agonized over the choice every day. But you didn’t even notice. That’s when I knew it was more than bad, and whatever it was you were going through was just pulling you down so deep, like a whirlpool. It’s like… I would talk to you, and there was no one inside. When I felt like you needed space, I gave you space. When I felt like you had something hard to say, I would sit with you all day, trying to ease it out, waiting for you to say it.

When you seemed so angry at yourself and everything around you—I-I don’t know—I tried to be the best thing for you. But I was hitting wall after wall. Sometimes I wonder how much of it was my fault. If I had just been upfront about my feelings then maybe things would have been… well, you know, different. I guess I never did say much because it seemed like the last thing you needed to hear, like I would be adding to your already massive collection of burdens. You have to understand, I felt trapped, Wonwoo. Like I was in a glass box or something.

I was decaying from the inside out. If I didn’t leave, if I didn’t make that split second decision to phone up my mom and tell her everything that morning you left for work—then maybe we would have gotten even worse. Maybe we would have just drowned. I don’t know. I’m… glad, relieved, happier than ever, that I don’t know what might have happened. And now that it seems we’re both… whole… I feel like an apology is just a way for me to say that if I had the steel to speak for the both of us, maybe we could have spared so much pain in between.”

Jeanie’s doe eyes twinkled with tears. “I thought that being apart might heal us both… I-I did it ‘cause—in essence—I did it because I cared, Wonwoo. About you. So deeply. But I also needed to start caring about myself, too.”

The corners of his mouth flitted in an unbridled smile toward the girl, his gaze admiring how the evening sunlight warmed up her cool-toned skin and shimmered through her strong, healthy hair.

“I know,” Wonwoo finally answered. “I’ve known for a while.”

Jeanie stayed for about an hour longer, until the sky started darkening. Together, they filled each other in on the breakages in each other’s distant lives, like a spider reweaving a gash through its cobweb. He was pleased to learn that she was doing quite well for herself—now moved out from her family house and living with her younger sister, Jeanie held true to pursuing her ambition of managing the library she had always adored coming to during her childhood (he remembered it specifically as “the one with the bean bag corner and the giant toy crate with the giraffe.”)

Wonwoo felt he didn’t have much to say regarding himself, however, he had plenty to say about you.

Rubbing at a strand of her hair, Jeanie nodded. “Yeah, I remember Her. She—like—she did scare me a bit… I don’t know—she really seemed to know what she was doing. I was a little envious of that. And she had really great style. She could pull anything off. She came in looking for a textbook one time, but I made my co-worker help her instead. I think I was too nervous to talk to her.”

Wonwoo had his legs stretched out onto the coffee table, hands settled on his stomach. Itching at his eyebrow, he smiled. “I probably would have done the same, back then. Honestly though, she’s nothing like what she seems. I can promise you that.”

Jeanie was quiet for a moment, adjusting the legs tucked up underneath herself. “So… you two are… you’re dating?”

“No… it’s weird. I wish.”

“I recognized her when she opened the door. I was pretty confused since… of all the people that you could have over… she seemed like the most unlikely candidate. I-I mean, I’m not saying that you could never—I’m not saying that it could never happen—”

He tilted his head at Jeanie, grinning slyly. “No, just say it. You didn’t imagine I’d ever even be able to talk to someone like her.”

The girl’s face flushed. “Well, you’re quite the opposites.”

“In some ways.”

“I don’t think she’d like me.”

Wonwoo pursed his lip in disagreement. “That’s not true. To be fair, you’ve ever only got to see one side of her. She’s trying to figure shit out just as much as we are. You never really stop, I suppose.”

He felt Jeanie’s gaze still on him for a few seconds, her mouth twitching into a delicate, sincere smile made brighter by her eyes. “So… you figure she’d like me? Even if she knew all the details about us? How rough it all was?”

Wonwoo crossed his arms, staring back toward her confidently. “I figure she’d probably like you more than me, actually.”

8:28 pm

“Hey, thanks for picking up.”

“Oh, no big deal. You called me at a good time. I was just about to start my skincare and I would have needed to sit for fifteen minutes doing absolutely nothing in a slimy face mask.” 

“Sounds fun.”

“I’m guessing your conversation is over and done with.”

“Yeah. She only left like, five minutes ago.”

“And you didn’t want to sit alone in your bedroom contemplating the universe for an additional hour with all the blinds drawn? Woah. Wonwoo, I am impressed. Finger snaps.”

“Finger snaps.”

“So… am I allowed to know how the whole thing went or did you just call me to hear the sound of my voice?”

“Both. But mostly to hear your voice.”

“Okay. Enlighten me then.”

9:45 pm

“Anyway… yeah. The conversation went well. I still can’t believe she actually came back to see me. Like, what a mindfuck, you know?”

“That took a lot of courage from her part.”

“Yeah, it did. Makes me proud, though. To hear her actually speak her mind. She really was just trying to be the best possible person for me and the only thing that got her is heartbreak. She’s putting herself first, now. She’s spending a couple days in the city with her sister.”

“… Do you think that you’ll want to see her again?”

“I don’t know. Do I need to?”

“Do you?”

“No. I mean, don’t get me wrong, as much as it was a shock to see her again, there was great closure in it. If she had come to see me way sooner, no way would I have been open to it—I probably would have freaked the fuck out and had an anxiety attack or some shit—but I feel way better about everything now. I felt like I understood her choices, kinda like I was the one making them... but, you know, we’re evolved people at this point. We’ve veered onto two separate paths, neither one being greater than or less than the other… just different.”

“Right.”

“We just wished each other well.”

“No, that’s great. You put a bow on it. I just didn’t really know what the whole thing was gonna entail… so, yeah, I had gotten kinda worried… like—once I knew it was her—I thought she looked so perfect for you. You two just made immediate sense in my mind. She’s got such a sweet voice, and the kind, shy personality that everyone always adores. I think if you stuck her in a room with me, she’d hate my guts.”

“Ha—Jeanie hates no one’s guts. She’s got no room in her heart for that kind of stuff. You two are different for sure, but I think that’s what would make you interesting and attractive to each other.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If it makes you feel any better, she didn’t think you’d like her either. But I told her you’d probably like her more than me.”

“What! She actually thought that? I mean, maybe I seemed a little damp when I left, but that was just my mind on overdrive.”

“Need me to arrange a date between you two?”

“Ha—she did have a great perfume on. Maybe ask about that.”

“Well, I will if I see her.”

“She doesn’t know about the book you were writing for her, does she? I can’t believe that’s been sitting on your laptop all this time.”

“No, she doesn’t. I used to sit there and stare at it every day, but I don’t think I’ve even opened the damn document in months… since I met you, my mind has gradually moved away from it, I guess. I think now it’s more of an effort thing. All the time I put into it. It’s like, if I delete it, I’m deleting that time from my life… does that even make sense?”

“Yeah, I know what you’re saying.”

“… Did you ever finish your book for Mingyu? I know you wanted it done before your anniversary in December. It seemed like you were on track to have it done quite early, with all that time you gave yourself.”

“I did finish it, actually.”

“No fucking way—that’s a big accomplishment.”

“Yeah. Now I’ve just gotta decide what to do with it.”

—NOVEMBER 3RD.

Wonwoo was fairly surprised that Princess had invited him to her birthday dinner at Terra Cotta. At one point, he wasn’t certain where he stood with your closest friend, even if his relationship with her presented itself as amicable on the surface—he always thought that maybe deep down, Princess really did despise him. Then Wonwoo wondered if you had nipped at the birthday girl into inviting him, although that didn’t seem like something in your character.

Through all his fretting, thumb-scraping, and late-night pondering in the shower, Wonwoo eventually came to the conclusion that was probably the simplest and most accurate: Princess just liked him.

A call from Vernon came through right as Wonwoo was getting into bed last week, to which the rambling boy had impetuously thrown out, “yeah, I got an invite to Her’s best friend’s birthday dinner or somethin’ like that—what was her name again? Penelope? The sexy dark skin girl with the braids? Anyway, I told her I’d love to go, but I’m gonna be out of town for a few days in November. Said I could hook her up with a couple MDMA bombs, though. Y’know, as a gift.”

Thus, that concluded the story of Wonwoo having to sit at a rather large and reserved candlelit table in an expensive, esteemed restaurant, surrounded by some friends and strangers alike, with a plastic baggie of hard drugs shoved into his pants pocket that he couldn’t stop worrying about. Vernon had wanted him to leave it with Princess when appropriate. Most people invited were going to the club later in the night—Room 319—which he figured could only be survived by going buckwild off ecstasy. As his knee continued to ricochet underneath the tablecloth, Wonwoo was soothed by your hand sliding over his thigh.

You gave him a solicitous glance, smiling with care. “Why don’t I just put it in my purse?” The offer was whispered amongst the conversation.

Wonwoo couldn’t help but flit his eyes around the table, ensuring no one was giving his general direction a lick of attention. The waiters and waitresses would pop from the blue every now and then with bottles that seemed glued to their hands, scouring for anyone who needed a top up on alcohol. His glass had been seldom touched for the past half-hour.

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine.”

“Wonwoo,” you deadpanned at him.

“It’s fine.”

“Oh my God—just give me it. It’ll take me two seconds to dig it out from your pocket and shove it in my damn purse. Besides, I can’t enjoy myself when the anxiety is emanating off you in waves.”

His knee immediately stopped jerking. Wonwoo looked you straight in the eyes, the stiffness turning him into straw. “Is it really?”

“Yes!” You laughed quietly, your head hunkering down on his shoulder for a brief moment. “Now, give me it please. Pretty please.”

Sliding a hand into the smooth pocket on his pants, Wonwoo began fishing out the small plastic baggie while puffing, “fuck—alright.”

“Gosh,” he heard you mumble while discreetly taking the capsules from him, rustling them into your purse, “you could never be a drug dealer, could you? How are you even friends with Vernon? That dude probably walks around with sample sizes taped to his jacket.”

“It’s different.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo was finally able to roll out his shoulders and relax—even give you a humorous little smirk, “I have a way better chance of escaping the drug dogs than he does. I’ll get a nice head start.”

His thigh was met with a slap before your hand pulled away. “I’m acting like I don’t know either of you.”

To be fair, Wonwoo couldn’t picture his bad-mouthed, fairly uncouth friend in a snotty establishment like Terra Cotta, especially considering his ideal places to eat were twenty-four-hour diners and cereal pantries belonging to girls whom he’d just slept with. The restaurant was no doubt beautiful, though it was definitely for the upper echelons who could not only afford it, but also act the pleasant, opulent guise.

At least the table that Princess reserved was a bit more separated from the other tables in the restaurant—it was close to a waterfall built into the wall, encompassed by all sorts of burnish-looking smooth stones.

Neither Seokmin or Mingyu were at the dinner—two absences that no one seemed to be questioning. To Wonwoo, that was a gigantic relief—he assumed you felt the same. Clara was there, seated further down the table, but Bells wasn’t. Seungcheol was an obvious guest, and besides you, he was the person that Wonwoo had spoken to the most since arriving at the restaurant—he’d even given Wonwoo the slip on his secret gift for his girlfriend, which was a two-week vacation to the Bahamas after the winter exam season.

Wonwoo was a little jealous.

He would love for you and him to vacation somewhere.

Maybe even take you back to South Korea.

“So, you guys,” Princess had started a conversation with you and Wonwoo from across the table, hands folded underneath her chin while she smiled kindly between you, “think you’ll come to the club after?”

You pouted at her, “we’re passing, babe. A million sorries.”

“Awe, that’s okay.” She reached across the pristine tablecloth to lay her hand over top yours. “You already took me out for my birthday, anyway. And let me vomit in your washroom for two hours.”

“Mmhm. You’d do the same for me.”

Princess giggled, her grin luminous and wholly genuine. “Oh, of course. I have already done it!”

“Well, you’ll have to tell me all about Room 319. The stories I’ve heard about that place—sounds like some shit from a movie.”

“Trust me, you’ll get the entire script in a bound book. I know the club thing isn’t for everyone—that’s why I did the dinner. And I’m doing cupcakes instead of cake! Remember those red velvet cupcakes we had that one night? And then that other night? Fuck—I couldn’t stop thinking about those damn things.”

“Oh, those were fucking delicious.”

“De-licious. Have you ever got to try one, Wonwoo?”

He swallowed, a bit jarred to be welcomed into their conversation that he had been happily listening to from the sidelines.

“I tried one. I liked it.”

Princess gasped at him. “Only liked? Be serious!”

“Well, ask me again later tonight. I wasn’t having it fresh.”

“I will be asking. How’s Vernon? I’m sad he couldn’t make it.”

“Oh, he’s fine. Sometimes he just mysteriously disappears from town for a couple days—I don’t ask because I don’t want to know. But, uh, he did leave me with a gift for you… if you didn’t already know.”

“Oh… oh! Right!” Princess straightened up, nodding. “Yeah, I remember. You can give it to me when we leave. Outside.”

“I have it actually,” you clarified, flickering a transient look at the tiny purse you had moved onto the table,  “when we take a girl’s trip to the washroom, you can have it. The dose is pretty high. I know I don’t have to worry about you and this stuff, but be careful, y’know?”

“Of course. Just make sure you hide the purse in your lap when the waiter comes back. They love offering to take bags and satchels and all that stuff to hang in the coat room.” After clearing her throat with a sip from her pink, frothy champagne, Princess curiously poked at you two. “So, how do you guys plan to spend the rest of your night?”

Wonwoo opted not to speak.

You grabbed your wine glass, swirling the aromatic alcohol around inside while shrugging. “Not sure. It’s chilly out. Hope you don’t freeze your tits off standing outside in the mile long line for the club.”

“That’s what this push-up is for. The padding’s so toasty warm.”

Laughing with Princess, you ended up snorting.

Seungcheol, who was sat beside his girlfriend and had been occupied in speaking to a friend Wonwoo forgot the name of, finally parted from his conversation, turning his head at the last second to hear the giggling.

“Push-up? What are you guys talking about?”

You shook your head. “Nothing—just her bra.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol mumbled, “what about her bra?”

Princess smiled. “Just that with all this padding it’s got, it’ll keep me nice and warm when I’m waiting outside. Perfectly insulated.”

Rubbing a thumb and index finger along his jaw, Seungcheol grinned all relaxed-like while Princess rolled her dark brown eyes at his comment, the gold accents in her inner corners glimmering.

“I bet my hands would be a lot more efficient. Nothing warmer than skin on skin as they say.”

She shoved his shoulder half-heartedly. “Who says that? Now, bedroom eyes away before I make you wear a bag over your head.”

“I don’t see a bag here.”

“As the birthday girl, I’m pretty sure I can request one.”

The dinner officially wrapped up around ten at night. Wonwoo was able to reaffirm with Princess that the red velvet cupcakes were indeed moist and delicious. As everyone stood right outside the restaurant in the nippy, cold November weather, giving hugs and farewells to those who weren’t clubbing, he made sure to wish Princess probably the twentieth happy birthday she’d heard that night. He waited for you to give her another speech about staying safe but still having fun, sprinkled with lots of “I love you’s” and inside jokes that Wonwoo wondered if he would ever understand, before you two left on your own.

Each time he spoke, his breath would come to life in a warm wisp from his mouth, meanwhile the streets lights reflected in the melted snow all over the sidewalk he aimlessly wandered down, with you sticking close to his side. It hadn’t been a heavy snow, at least.

“Be honest,” you said, glancing toward Wonwoo, “how relieved are you that we’re not going to the club? On a scale of one to ten.”

“Is ten the most relieved?”

“Yeah.”

He looked at you, completely unabashed. “Ten.”

Kissing your teeth, you nodded. “That’s what I expected.”

“So,” Wonwoo hummed, stopping beside you at the intersection while waiting for the crosswalk light to change, “what now?”

Your eyebrows raised. “Still want to do something?”

As the cars whipped past, throwing up brisk winds and exhaust into the twinkling city atmosphere, Wonwoo shrugged. “The night is young.”

“What's on your mind?”

“We’re not far from Centertown. It’s maybe a fifteen-minute walk or so at this point. There’s a bar there I want to try. The Honeymoon.”

He was glad you didn’t seem opposed.

“Sure. I’m down.”

Once the crosswalk was open and the floods of people started pressing forward, there was somebody who passed them—somebody who almost went completely unnoticed by Wonwoo until his memory reloaded and he suddenly found himself pausing to observe over his shoulder.

You pulled at his sleeve. “What?”

“Uh, nothing,” Wonwoo replied, wetting his dry lips while heeding your polite tug, “the woman that passed us—she’s dressed exactly like this prostitute that Vernon told me he saw last winter, hanging outside Room 319. She has the heels and everything.”

“What the fuck. Really?”

“Mmhm,” he laughed, “he called her Pink Heels Lady. To be honest, I thought he was lying… but I’m pretty sure that was her.”

“Spooky. Coincidence or fate, do you think?”

Wonwoo glanced at you, seeing the intrigued smile on your face.

“I don’t know, actually,” he responded after the question hovered around in his mind for an oddly long second, deciding to pick up your hand in is, “I assume it’s just the universe working its magic.”

Wonwoo was never particularly into bars, although he could tolerate them much more than a club despite their parallels. The seedy lighting, deafening music, and signature throw-up gutter in the street or alleyway right outside the building was crucial to both, he had realized.

The Honeymoon was a newer bar that had garnered some notable buzz. It was less like a pub, being slightly more formal with a touch of modernity that had landed it just below presumptuous, in Wonwoo’s opinion. At least the music wasn’t overbearing, nor was there intoxicated, flush-faced men hollering at sports teams on televisions that would never hear them. You decided to sit at the counter, sliding onto the heightened chairs and leaving your jackets draped over the low backs.

You bristled, shaking out your shoulders. “I’m cold.”

Wonwoo cupped his hands overtop your icy cheeks for a moment, allowing some of his warmth to seep into your skin.

“A drink will fix that right up.”

“How are your hands hotter than mine? You’re always freezing.”

He smiled at you, letting you have your face back. “I can warm them up at will to your benefit.” Wonwoo joked, bumping his knee against yours. “What do you think of the place?”

Your lip pursed as you glanced around, examining the bartenders filling up glasses with their silvery, shiny spouts, and then over your shoulder at the numerous other tables occupied by the city’s strangers. For a frigid November night, it was quite full.

“It’s nice. The lighting is pretty. Reminds me of Alley Cat.”

“Oh, yeah. Vernon took me there once to celebrate my exams being done, then he got into a fist fight with this university student over something I can’t remember—smashed a glass on the dude’s head.”

Predictably, your eyes rolled. “Only Vernon is getting into fist fights at Alley Cat.”

Wonwoo chuckled. “Well, now he can’t get into fist fights there at all—management banned him and the other guy. Apparently, they’ve got this back wall of people who’ve been kicked out and he’s on there.”

“Figures,” you sighed.

“Oh my gosh! Wonwoo? It’s you!”

At the sound of his name being excitedly called, Wonwoo was soon met with the surprised but cheerful expression coloured to Sierra’s freckled face. He hadn’t forgotten that she worked there, but he was clueless about her schedule. She looked very pretty, glowing in a halo almost, with her coarse, reddish-brown hair pulled back slick into a ponytail and a crisp, clean black uniform tailored to fit her perfectly.

Wonwoo grinned. “Hey there. I didn’t know you worked tonight.”

Sierra set one hand onto the lacquered wood counter while the other stuck to her hip. “I don’t usually. Fridays are game nights with my little sister. But there was a call-in. A little extra cash never hurt.” The girl’s big, round eyes then flitted to you. “Her, right? I don’t think we’ve ever met formally. I know you’re one smart cookie, though.”

“I’d like to think so,” you answered, smiling back at Sierra, “you were at the party, weren’t you? The one Seungcheol threw this summer?”

She nodded, “I was. I made a few drinks here and there.”

“I never got to taste one,” you frowned, pouting.

Throwing up her hands, Sierra was quick to exclaim with her typical charisma and sugar sweetness, “what! Preposterous! I think I’m pretty wicked at it. What are you thinking of having?”

“To be honest, I’m not looking for anything too fancy at the moment. In fifteen minutes from now, I won’t be able to promise the same. I’d like to start off with a rum and coke, if that’s alright. For now.”

Sierra grinned. “No, that’s perfect. What about you, Wonwoo?”

He shrugged. “I’ll have the same. For now.”

“Well, for now, I’ll start you guys off with two rum and cokes.”

Leaning his elbows onto the countertop, he threw her a question.

“How’s it going with Carmen?”

While she prepared the drinks, Sierra blossomed into a smile. “Oh, it’s going great. She’s genuinely a blast. We’re going to the movies next week—that horror one is coming out, about the swimming pool—we think it’s gonna suck but that’s what makes it fun.”

Once Sierra slid you the cold glass, you tilted your head at her while fixing your lips around the black straw. “Who’s Carmen?”

“My girlfriend.” Sierra answered. “We met here, actually.”

“Ugh, no way,” you swooned, pressing a cheek into your hand as the next drink was given to Wonwoo, “that’s so fucking adorable. Does she ever tell you how beautiful you look in that all-black uniform?”

Giggling, Sierra wiped down the countertop and flushed. “I’ve heard it many times. It’s honestly just a t-shirt and slacks!”

“Well, you’re making it work.”

“Please—my face is heating up! You’ve got quite the gorgeous dress on yourself, you know. I always wonder where you get all your clothes. Wonwoo, have you complimented her yet, tonight?”

Mixing the ice cubes together to hear the satisfying clinks using his straw, he answered easily. “It was the first thing out of my mouth.”

Sierra nodded in satisfaction. “Good! Well, I won’t hover. But if you need any refills or have any questions, you can try to flag me down—or ask Jamie! She’s just down there. She’s great at martinis. Later!”

Once Sierra had left to busy herself with tending to others waiting service at the counter, you looked to Wonwoo, lips downturned.

“Jeez, she’s so freaking nice. How come I don’t have that kind of natural charm? Not that I’m not charming. But hers is so… magnetic.”

“Everyone’s got their natural quirks.”

“Yeah, well, my natural quirk is that I’m probably going to down this in the next two minutes. And then have three more after that.”

Wonwoo rubbed a hand to your shoulder, smirking into the glass that he raised to his mouth. “Just focus on the one you have now.”

3 more rum and cokes (+ 1 martini) later.

“No, no—but then, it gets even worse! Because not only had she been lying straight to his face the entire time, so was his best friend! They were seeing each other for weeks and weeks—he had no idea. What gave it away though, was the perfume. He was always telling her not to wear heavy perfumes and stuff because it will leave a scent on the sheets, but she messed up—so they freaked it, she spends the night, and then the next day when he’s over, he goes into his friend’s room looking for a charger and smells the perfume on the sheets! He puts it together! And then, and then—”

You paused, picking up the wide-mouthed martini glass to take a sip in the midst of your long-winded and passionate adultery story that Wonwoo had been struggling to follow for the past blurred time interval, the names now completely lost on his ears. There was hardly anything left in your glass, which led to your frustrated grumble, followed by an attempt to flag down the bartender, Jamie.

However, Wonwoo swiftly caught your hand despite his own impaired state, lowering it back to the countertop.

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” He pushed forward the cup of water he requested for you. “The least you can be right now is hydrated.”

Although you weren’t happy about his thwarting, you did yield to the advice and drink some of the water. Wonwoo knew he should probably have some himself after his own splurge on the bar’s pricy concoctions, but he still felt that he was holding up quite well. Before Jamie could whisk by again, he made sure to ask for another cup.

“So, what happened next?” Wonwoo nudged your elbow while you stared off cluelessly, urging you to continue the story.

“What?”

“He smells her perfume on the bedsheets. Now what?”

However, you were suddenly slumping forward, forehead nestled into your hands. For a moment, you stayed like that without word, until Wonwoo couldn’t help his concern and touched at your bare shoulder.

“Not feeling well?”

You shook your head, whining out, “no, no. It’s not that.”

He frowned, scooting to the edge of his chair and securing his arm across your shoulders. His voice was softer and closer against your warm cheek as he attempted to gauge that sour, twisted expression past your concealing hands, wanting to understand your hiding.

“Well, am I allowed to know what’s bothering you?”

Again, you remained silent, biting your lip. There was such tenseness in your body that he could simply feel with just his arm.

Wonwoo leaned back, instead tugging at your wrist. “Can I at least see your face? Please?” You didn’t budge. “Her, you’re worrying me a bit, here. Do you need me take you home—”

“Okay, I have something to tell you.” Breaking abruptly from your husk, you were now staring straight and square at Wonwoo with distinct inebriation cloudy in your eyes, although there was something else too that compelled Wonwoo to bite his tongue and listen. “Honestly, I think I’ve held onto this long enough. And, I’ve wanted to confess this to you for a while now, but there was just so much debris in my life that I needed to sort through first. But you’re beyond important to me, and I just think that it’s time you finally know… so, can I tell you?”

“Um…”

Wonwoo’s throat was suddenly bone-dry and his pulse had spiked to the point where he could feel a vein along his neck start throbbing—he even pondered waving down the bartender for another drink to pacify his growing nerves.  

Ultimately, Wonwoo wouldn’t last that long. Pushing up his glasses, he nodded, noting that you hadn’t blinked once while you waited.

“Sure. Tell me.”

Your upper lip twitched.

“Mingyu’s been cheating on me, for two years.”

Wonwoo was quick to feel all his awareness become dull and drowned. He hardly registered his elbow shifting across the countertop, almost knocking over the glass of water onto the floor, nor did he realize the manner in which his mouth had subtly dropped open. You continued to stare at him with intensity, likely studying every tweak and fidget in his body language before swallowing deeply and choosing to continue the revelation.

He tightened up his jaw, trying to seem firm.

You looked ashamed of yourself as you admitted, “it’s been going on for two years, and I’ve known for about a year.”

“Really?” He answered, sounding mystified. “An entire year?”

“Give or take.”

Then, Wonwoo was shaking his head. His fist had clenched up tight, though it wasn’t the usual automated response that accompanied his anxiety—he found there was immediate distaste and anger swirling together like storm clouds in the pit of his stomach.

Your gaze was cast to the water glass on the countertop, which you moved away for no apparent reason, your expression emptied.

After a frail sigh, you continued, “do you remember that day I came into creative writing and got super upset at that guy for sitting in my seat? Remember how we talked about it at the nature museum, and I told you that I had a fight with Mingyu before going to class?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, that day, I tried bringing it up to him. And it totally didn’t go over how I thought it would. Mingyu denied it all… of course, I only had some vague but suspicious texts to go off of, which he explained his way out of pretty poorly. But I just accepted it for the sake of our relationship. And I never brought it up again until… you know.”

Wonwoo let a natural, stagnant silence fall in between you, meanwhile the encompassing atmosphere was kept flowing by the various conversations of those around you—seemingly happy—with plenty to drink as they kept warm from the bitter cold just outside.

He was biting his tongue, though he couldn’t hold the question any longer, piquing his, “do you know who he was cheating with?”

A huff shot straight through your nose.

“I know…” you mumbled, “and you know her, too.”

Suddenly, a name popped to his mouth without thought.

“Bells.”

When you didn’t confirm nor deny, opting to stare off to the side to conceal the emotion springing forth, Wonwoo knew it was solid truth.

“Fuck…” he cursed, grazing his hand across the smooth leg that was folded over your knee, “I’m so sorry… I’m at a loss for words.”

You could only sigh while a glossy film developed in your eyes.

“I mean, I’ve been through all the stages already—grief, denial, acceptance—whatever the other ones are—so I don’t know why I’m still getting so choked up about it. I obviously didn’t want to believe it… I mean, who the fuck does? Especially when you truly do have feelings for that person.” Shaking your head and sniffling, you exasperatedly flicked out a hand. “Her and her stupid sparkles. That was when I really started putting it together. Oh, I’m going out to play poker, babe! And the next day, I’m wearing his sweater, and I realize there’s these fucking little bits of glitter on it, inside it—it was like a fucking beacon that was just screaming at me—hey! Your asshole boyfriend is cheating!”

That was something Wonwoo had noticed himself, after Bells had bumped into him at the party—the girl’s adoration for sparkly clothing and makeup essentially left behind a glaring trail of glimmery breadcrumbs. Wonwoo had found them on his clothes once he took them off and could really see the fabric underneath the light. The confession suddenly painted your actions that night in a new colour.

Rubbing against your temple, you explained further despite the struggle to speak over that clogged sound coming from your throat.

“It’s not like I’m stupid, either, even if right now, in this situation, I seem like it. I know what Bells is like… she’s spoiled rotten—always has been—and is used to getting whatever the fuck she wants. But, you see, that’s the thing! That’s the fucking thing! Seokmin, Clara, Bells, even Princess—I only met them because of the webs my parents have in their business world. I was never really allowed to find my own friends. It really just shows how much they had a say in my life… don’t misconstrue, I truly do love Princess and she’s by far the most normal, grounded person amongst them. She actually listens, and cares. But I was only allowed to befriend her ‘cause my parents know her parents.

Mingyu seemed like the one person I was actually able to connect with on my own… but he’s honestly changed so much. It’s like, my parents were able to get their little fangs in him and warp him. And now… I really don’t think he loves me at all… I think he loves my image, and what I represent, and the opportunities that come with me… but, I don’t think he actually, genuinely loves me like he used to... like, back then, he was so, so sweet. He was always fumbling over himself, nervous, trying his best. I mean, you've read about it! He used to want to be an architect, Wonwoo. A freaking architect! He sketched all the time. He has a closet drawer full of sketch books from when he was younger. But everything's different now. He doesn't care. He hates when I bring it up! He hates me!

And I don’t just think—I know it, Wonwoo. He resents me, but he won’t let go. Instead, he just sucks the life out of me, like he’s trying to get me to hate myself, too. And I do. I guess, as long as I hate myself, it makes me perfect in their eyes. I’ll just keep letting them mould me until I feel complete.”

Wonwoo didn’t know what to do.

Hell, he didn’t even know what to say except for the fact that you were right—as long as you always felt subpar, or lacking, or frustrated with your drought of true identity, it would lead you back to the reliance you had on the deceptive characters in your life—it was nothing but a miserable cycle designed to bog you down and snuff you out. At least your tearful eyes had dried up.

You looked at him fondly, with a gentle smile. “That’s what I like so much about you… even if you didn’t intend to—which I know you didn’t, judging from what I’ve heard about you trying to avoid writing with me—” (he bit his inner cheek coyly, casting a somewhat anxious hand through his hair), “—you helped me realize parts of myself that were always there, but only needed some nurturing. You actually encouraged me. Supported me. And—okay—I know I said that I hate myself—but since I’ve met you, I’ve been replacing it with an understanding of my situation. I’ve been kinder. I’ve been more of myself. I like to think what we have is a sort of symbiosis.”

Wonwoo nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“Do you think that I’m… stupid… for staying?”

Immediately, Wonwoo’s face furled in disagreement. “No, no. Absolutely not. Mingyu’s been with you for so long. He has an integral quality in your life. It would be difficult to uproot yourself just like that. No one’s a better judge of that situation than you.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

As you relaxed back into the bar chair, Wonwoo could practically see this heavy, dark mist levitate from you and dissipate into the air. He knew that feeling of relief and inner freedom very well, and there was almost nothing that could compare to it.

Wonwoo then sipped from his glass of water, continuing to watch the stiffness melt off you like ebbing spring snow. "So, what was his response like? To your accusations? Was he at least honest?"

"Yeah, I got it all out of him eventually," you revealed with a very cumbersome sigh. "But he was deflecting like crazy... I'd never seen him like that before... he was fumbling his words all over, like he used to when we were first dating. But it was different. It wasn't nerves, it was just blind anger. He said I was no better. I mean, he's convinced we've had sex, and he wouldn't accept my denial, no matter what."

"It's not black and white," Wonwoo said, squeezing your arm, "it seems to me like a natural consequence. You felt trapped and alone."

For a split second, Jeanie flashed in his mind. A sear of guilt snapped through him. Mingyu would have much reflecting to do.

Nodding your head, you looked to Wonwoo and graced him with the words he may or may not have been waiting months to hear: "it's all over now—Mingyu and I—I made that extremely clear. And I honestly don't care what anyone else has to say. My mom didn't want to believe it... she's been acting strange since. I don't blame her."

In response, he merely nodded, warming you up with his gentle eyes.

But then he was shifting forward in his seat, elbows settled to the counter. Although it was quite late and he felt exhausted from drinking, his curiosity about a particular matter was still sharp.

“So… I’m wondering… what's your reason for writing the book?”

You gulped. “I wanted a way of looking back on everything. Seeing if maybe I could find myself somewhere amongst all those memories. Maybe when I started losing Mingyu was when I started losing myself. Maybe that's when I realized I was losing myself. Maybe that's when I realized I never really knew myself to begin with.”

He shrugged, his face colouring with admiration for you.

“Well... have you found something?”

Your only means of response was a twinkle-eyed grin.

The walk back to your apartment wasn’t as dreadful as Wonwoo anticipated, mostly attributed to the alcohol soaking up in your stomachs, keeping your blood warm even in the face of a tough, harsh wind. Back when it wasn’t so late in the night and his lips had yet to touch his first rum and coke, Wonwoo thought he would take himself home after seeing you off first. But now it was almost midnight, and he had this impending feeling of vertigo while he walked, and he was therefore very limp to fight the offer that involved a comfortable stay at your place until morning.

Wonwoo wasn’t exactly sure where he deposited his coat or his shoes, or even his phone—instead he found himself sitting at the end of your bed, listening to the muffled sound of a running sink behind a closed door as you were busy in the washroom.

He leaned over, removing the glasses already slid down his nose and rubbing a palm into his eye until stars traversed the length of his vision. So, Lady Liberty was a cheater. For the past two years. It did bring Wonwoo to wonder what else Mingyu had said during your argument. Did he ever give a reason for cheating? Did he feel boxed into a life that wasn't the enriching utopia he surmised it might be, but he was toughing it out for the sake of success? Was he cheating because he was mad at you or mad at himself?

Or was he honestly just an asshole?

The Mingyu he was familiar with was shifty, and hardened, and image-obsessed, and now Wonwoo knew for a fact he wasn’t delusional for feeling the tension between you and him whenever you were together. God—he could practically cut all the thickness in the air using Seokmin’s nose and serve it like pieces of cake. But Mingyu hadn't always been like that according to your allegories. Deep down there could still be traces of the man you fell in love with, flickering like shiny little minnows beneath murky, clouded water.

But it was too late now.

Fitting his glasses back on, Wonwoo rolled back the sleeves to his crisp white dress shirt, proceeding to take a gander around your bedroom that he hadn’t revisited in quite some time.

The running sink in the washroom across the hall was finally turned off, although Wonwoo had stopped paying attention to the background noise in place of reading your every detail off the walls. In minuscule ways, the room had changed. There were missing photographs from the dresser, your makeup vanity drawers no longer left ajar in your likely last-minuting rushing to ensure everything was perfect. The closet seemed cleaned-out. Emptier than it once was.

“I thought you might fall asleep.”

He jumped slightly, realizing that you were in the bedroom now, setting down your heels in the corner before making a stride toward the closet where the dress over your arm was hung back up.

Wonwoo bit his lip. “I questioned it.”

You smiled, and within that moment he noticed the long t-shirt you were draped in was the dark blue, logoed math shirt, the one you’d picked after sprinting back to his apartment amidst a rain storm. He felt something in his chest swell and ache in response to how pretty you looked wearing it. Wonwoo knew he was staring, blushing, but he didn’t care. You had two of his t-shirts now. He hoped that collection might continue growing. He hoped that you wore them until his scent was naturally replaced by the strawberry sweetness of your own.

“Thinking about anything in particular?” You asked, arms folded.

Slapping a guilty little grin on his face, Wonwoo shrugged. “No.”

But then you started striding toward Wonwoo, uttering out something half-whispered that sounded a lot like “liar”, and now he truly wasn’t thinking about a damn thing, not even his own breath, as you proceeded to slide your arms around his neck and seat yourself in his lap. He was frozen. You hadn’t been this fucking close to him since you two had cuddled during Seungcheol’s party.

But this was worse—this was full-throttle intimacy with your penetrative, fluttering eyes eating up his soul while your bare thighs squeezed the sense out of him, trapping him, testing him.

“Scared?” You whispered, moving your face in closer.

Yes—he was horrified—he couldn’t even speak with you smiling at him so innocently despite the flames you were igniting.

Though, when he felt a wriggle from your hips that seemed to push against him in all the right places, Wonwoo’s hands were immediate on your waist, tight and stilling, and he swore there was a vulnerable, pliant spark in your eyes that he had never seen before. Maybe Wonwoo could have been more polite about the approach, but after waiting so, so long, he felt like a rocket ship rife with fuel.

He kissed you.

In one decision his lips were pressed to yours, and in a kiss that was full of friction and earnest want, he could only dig deeper. Your arms curled further around his neck, to which you slipped in a quick, sharp breath before pouring yourself back into him so suddenly, mouths moulding again and again, spit slickening, noses bumping. He would have paused to take off his glasses, though Wonwoo was in no place to leave your lips for even a second—especially when your playful tongue glided with his and the world around him melted like wax.

Maybe he was biased (or maybe it was love), but Wonwoo swore it had never felt this right to kiss someone. He knew it, somewhere outside himself, far out in the ever-expanding universe and every other version that belonged, that this moment felt destined to happened. Wonwoo had never particularly believed in fate.

But then he wouldn’t know how else to describe you.

His hands itching to touch more of your skin had gravitated to the thighs clenching at his hips. Your warmth and smoothness only made him greedier. As the kissing became messy in the desperation, he couldn’t help but slide his hands to your ass, immediately kneading his cold fingers into the flesh, pulling, squeezing, pushing you closer into him because he quite literally wanted you to engulf his body.

Then, you were gripping at the back of his hair. You had opened up his throat for your wet lips to continue exploring, and Wonwoo felt every suckle and teething bite draw him further from clarity.

Each kiss slithered lower, until you were gradually lifting from his lap and placing yourself onto the carpet floor. Wonwoo had leaned back to tightly fist the bedsheets behind him, although he would never waver his lusted eyes from the sight of you between his spread legs, on your knees, palming him overtop his dress pants while biting your swollen, glistening lip. He almost wanted the camcorder to capture it.

“How does it feel?” You hummed, staying focused on each pressured movement your hand applied to his prominent erection.

Wonwoo chuckled, clearing the huskiness in his throat, “like I’m gonna die.” His head tilted back. “Holy shit.”

Flashing nothing but a conniving, pleased smile, you tended to undoing his belt buckle. Wonwoo was burning up. As you pulled down the zipper to his pants and helped him shift down the waistband to his underwear an adequate distance, he couldn’t process anything but the fact that he might burst like an explosion of confetti the second your hand would touch him.

Except, you opted to sit back on your haunches.

Tilting your head, you smirked at him.

“I would like a demonstration, please.”

He almost choked. “A what?”

“A demonstration,�� you repeated, shuffling closer in between his thighs and gazing up much too seraphically through your lashes, “won’t you show me how you touch yourself, Wonwoo? Please?”

For the life of him, he couldn’t produce one stupid fragment of a sentence, or even a word. God—it didn’t fucking help that you took reign and offered to get him started—your hand carefully reaching past his underwear, gripping onto him gently to spring his erection free. A shiver surged throughout his body at the sensation. Hotness spread like molten lava across his face as the result of your lascivious, teasing actions stood leaking and stiffer than wood right before your eyes, which were agleam with thrill and haze.

You seemed as though you were going to pounce on him.

But he could visibly see you swallow the temptation.

“Aww, you have the prettiest dick I’ve ever seen,” you giggled, wrapping a hand around him that was soft and warm, “would it make you feel better if I started you off, then? Gave you some help?”

Wonwoo’s fists were tangled so intensely into the bedsheets he was surprised the fabric hadn’t disintegrated. Holding his breath, he watched you lean forward until your mouth was hovering an agonizing distance over him, only to produce a line of spit that dripped onto his head. His jaw unhinged in a groan. Then you began working the saliva along his shaft, pumping a hand up and down, occasionally flickering your thumb over the sensitive tip only to remove the contact so casually, likely knowing it would rip him apart.

“Your turn.”

He took a second to push up his glasses and shake his head.

“M’not gonna last long, you know,” Wonwoo grunted, at last heeding your request and beginning to stroke himself for your viewing pleasure, “especially after that big display. You fucking tease.”

With an arm slid over his thigh and the drool collecting in your mouth, you couldn’t have looked anymore dazzled by the thirst you were experiencing, your eyes refusing to part from every tug delivered by his own hand. It was a spell, and you were unapologetically under it.

“Mmm, a tease?” You purred, smiling. “I was just trying to help.”

“Were you?” Wonwoo scoffed, pumping faster while continuing to twist up the bedsheets using his other hand. “Rubbing your fucking spit into my cock is tt-trying to help me? Is that what you think?”

“Mmhm,” you answered, straightening up as Wonwoo felt himself become tenser, felt the pressure in his abdomen climb.

He shuddered, a groan reverberating from somewhere deep in his chest. The sound of his fist wetly slapping up and down consumed the room and Wonwoo knew it was only a matter of seconds before he lost it. You were basking in every sound and movement.

“Fuck, fuck, I-I can't—”

Suddenly, you’d pushed Wonwoo’s hand away. His stomach flipped upside down. Before he could recognize the brief loss and regain of pleasure, your suckling, wet, hot mouth was already sliding down around his erection, your grip fastening to whatever you couldn’t quite reach. Wonwoo bit his lip so hard at the sensation that something coppery-warm was tasted on his tongue, although that was the least of his concerns when you were throating him with messy desperation. His hand rested on your scalp, nervous to push your head down too firmly, but once he did, you moaned out so erotically around him that Wonwoo fragmented.

His hips bucked straight into your face while his fingers had tightened at the back of your scalp, feeling every intense throb expand against your throat, spurt after spurt filthy in your mouth. But you were diligent and zealous and Wonwoo knew you were swallowing it all despite the few tears trickling onto his pelvis. His length didn’t leave the velvet, pillowy confines of your mouth until every bit was expertly milked out from him, though had Wonwoo let his hand drift off your hair in case you wanted a breath.

With a hiccup and a wipe against your chin, you were tasting the bedroom’s heavy air and exhaling ragged as Wonwoo marvelled you.

“Trying to take my soul with you or something?” He huffed, using his thumb to remove some leftovers from the side of your lips.

You caught his hand in an instant. “No—” you piped up, quick to close your mouth around the digit and suck off whatever he politely removed, laving your tongue like you were licking a popsicle, “—I want all of it.”

He thought he might crumble, hearing you mumble such obscene words while tracks of tears dried overtop your cheeks, your voice sounding somewhat hoarse from the labour of taking him whole.

You were climbing back onto Wonwoo’s lap almost blindly, his next breath taken away by a passionate kiss you pushed so fervently onto his lips. There was another tangling of tongues, saliva mixing together, but neither attempting to take control— though at this point Wonwoo would gladly oblige to throwing you on the bed and twisting off those frustrating panties he imagined were sticking to you. He could feel your arousal dampening through the baby pink cotton as his length twitched back to hardness underneath you.

“Wonwoo,” you whined breathily into his ear while grinding your hips against him in search of friction, “I’ve got to tell you something I did.” You bruised up his neck with more kisses. “Something bad.”

His eyes were shut, hands continuing to grope your ass. “Yeah?” He mumbled, feeling your tongue drag across a vein in his neck. “You did something bad? What could that be?”

Your hands drifted down his chest, yanking open the buttons on his dress shirt in satisfying pops. Warm, feathery breath hit his ear. “That day I stayed the night in your bedroom… alone…” you kissed him on his mouth, letting it linger and last, “I couldn’t help it.”

Wonwoo had gripped the side of your face, meanwhile he rubbed underneath the waistband to your tiny, thin underwear.

“Couldn’t help what?”

He flinched as your hand sunk down to grab his cock.

“I touched myself,” you confessed just an inch from his face, “I laid back against your pillows, spread my legs all wide… I had my fingers stuffed so deep inside myself, but it still didn’t feel like enough.” Again, you were softly stroking him. Wonwoo continued to uphold that unwavering, painfully honest gaze you were pinning him in. “Nd’ I came all over your t-shirt, Wonwoo. I played with myself until my fingers were cramping and my legs couldn’t stay open anymore.”

He gulped—heavy—like swallowing a chunk of lead. His tender thumb grazed along your cheek and rubbed over your puffy lips. “I wanted to fuck you so bad that night,” Wonwoo soothed your confession with another, which was already quite obvious, “I dreamt about it. I wanted to bury myself so fucking deep inside your gut.”

You shook your head, eyes teary. “Why didn’t you?” He felt the delicate stroking motion along his erection come to a pause.

Wonwoo cradled your cheek. “It would have fucked everything up.”

“But I wanted it,” you whimpered. “I’ve been wanting it for so long and you just left me there. I would have been quiet. You could have put me face down in the pillows and just used me all you wanted.”

“No,” Wonwoo argued, “I would never want to use you. I want us to be together in everything. I know you wanted it. But lust makes you think different. Just like it’s making you think different right now.”

He softly slotted his mouth with yours, exchanging a much slower, sweeter kiss that lit a glow in his belly. You puddled right into the contact, curling your arms back around his neck to hold him tighter.

Much lighter kisses dappled the edges of your lips.

Wonwoo could feel you start to smile.

“I figured something was off the next morning,” he said.

You chuckled, “I didn’t know how to face with you without thinking about it. I felt so dirty. But in the moment, I needed something.”

He nipped down your slender neck, letting his hot breath and reverberating, husky tone tickle your skin until your hairs stood up.

“How wet were you?” Wonwoo purred, smirking.

Immediately, your hips were pushing down on him. “Soaked,” you then whispered, “I was making such a mess. I tried so hard to be quiet. But part of me wanted you to hear.”

Wonwoo’s hands drifted up your t-shirt, gliding slow against your stomach, coming to reach the plump, sensitive breasts that he could only surmise were waiting for his attention. He cupped them in each palm, giving a tender squeeze and pull that pitched your breath into a squeak. Caressing your neck with more wet, open-mouthed kisses, he felt the absentminded grinding reignite the friction between you.

“Did you touch up here, too?”

His thumbs brushed your pert nipples. He felt you shiver.

“Y-Yes.”

Tsking his teeth, he pleasured them with slow, rubbing circles that you mewled in response to. “You’ve got the softest skin. I could touch you until I die, and it still wouldn't be enough.”

“Mmhm,” he heard you exhale shakily, “I touch myself at home, too. Put my pillow between my legs. Pretend I’m grinding against you. Then let my fingers take me again and again until it hurts.”

How dare you fucking say that to him—how dare you put such an intimate visual in his mind to haunt him like a ghost to hallowed grounds. How many times had you done it? How many times had you stood right in front of him, smiling so innocently, despite knowing damn well what you had done to yourself the night before.

Wonwoo pinched your nipples, watching you flinch.

“Does it hurt right now?”

You nodded.

“Where?” He lowered his voice, sinking his hand back down the creases in your tummy until it paused right on your mound, his eyes trained to your suddenly very desperate, misty look. “Down here?”

“Yes.”

Holding eye contact with you, Wonwoo trailed his hand further along your panties until his touch was situated right between your thighs, directly feeling the wet fabric, the radiating heat, the aroused pulsations. Your fingernails were pricks in his shoulders.

“Fuck, you are drenched, aren’t you?” Wonwoo commented, rubbing his hand against you through the cotton material, your hips soon chasing the overwhelming pleasure. “Can feel you throbbing against my hand, you know that? Bet it aches so fucking good, hm?”

He grinned hard at your eyebrows knitting together. While he massaged you with one hand, the other gripped your chin where he pushed a hot, uncoordinated kiss onto your whiny mouth.

“Lay across my lap,” Wonwoo whispered in between the hasty break for air, “let me play with you instead, make you cum. Please.”

To his delight, your compliance came easily.

It didn’t take long for you to splay yourself in the desired position, with Wonwoo pushing up the shirt to bunch at your waist while your bottom was perfectly presented in his lap. He massaged you, leaning down to mark a trail of kisses along your lower back, along your ass—spreading you wide to see the large, soaked patch glistening on those easily rippable underwear.

“Just open your thighs a bit more,” Wonwoo instructed, to which you quickly listened, “fuck—perfect—all this, only for me.” He pushed his thumb against you through the panties and you instantly squeaked.

“Right?” He urged. “Is this all just for me?”

“Mmhm—yes, yes. I fucking promise. Just for you.”

Wonwoo bit his lip to stop the size of the immediate smile from breaking across his face. Your hips wriggled up as his touch drifted away.

“I need more,” you groaned in frustration, “please.”

“More here?” Wonwoo pulled back on one side of your glute to help reveal the sensitive area, then rubbing his thumb against your clit.

Your entire body jerked, and he noticed your fingers dig into the bedsheets, clawing them up. He figured the wet friction between his thumb and your panties was frustratingly amplifying every little sensation in a dull but very cruel way. He continued his ministrations, adding some more pressure for you to squirm and moan at.

“Does it still hurt?” Wonwoo asked, letting his other hand slide up your bare waist, the skin beginning to sweat and turn even warmer.

“Please,” you groaned, attempting to adjust your hips against the stroking from his thumb, “I feel like m’gonna fucking die, Wonwoo.”

“Still need more, then?”

“Yes!”

Deciding to throw you a bone, Wonwoo grabbed those thin, pink panties in his hand and helped you slide the constricting fabric down and off your legs. Once he spread you nice and wide, let the cold air ghost the slicken, swollen skin, you had gasped. For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t speak—he only stared at you with all the stars in the universe collecting behind his eyes, glittering like a snow globe—at how beautiful and exposed and needy you looked.

He let his fingers slide ever so slowly along your clit, drawing up to your hole, then pushing back down to hear you whimper brokenly.

Wonwoo swallowed the dryness in his throat.

“Do you have any fucking idea how beautiful you are?” He complimented, his fingers soaking in your arousal. “I knew your cunt would look pretty, but this is more than that. God…” experimentally, Wonwoo shifted a finger gentle into your opening, giving the digit a wriggle and few shallow pumps. Immediately your intense warmth clenched down tight before loosening, engendering him to effortlessly press in two more long fingers. “There you go… good girl…” he mumbled his encouragement as you gripped the bedsheets and moaned a guttural sound, “taking in my fingers so fucking well—they slide in so easy… make such perfect, dirty noises whenever they fill up this gorgeous cunt.”

His thumb touched at your clit, lending it some attention that had you twisting and bucking back to receive even more pleasure.

“God, Wonwoo…” you gasped, sounding lost to the ecstasy while letting him take his time with mapping out your inner walls with curious strokes, “that feels so fucking good. You have no idea. Feels like m’gonna pour all over you.”

He grinned, further stimulating your swollen clit, maintaining the pattern as you propped up on your elbows, tugged at the bedspread, and released a mellifluous, shuddering moan from your throat.

“F-fuck ye-yess…” you whined as his fingers squelched deeper and his thumb continued its circles, “yes, yes, yes, keep doing that—oh-oh, fuck! M’gonna cum all over your fingers—m’gonna make a mess!”

“That’s all I want,” he breathed, his chest tightening at how much arousal was pooling sticky around his digits, “that’s all I’ve ever fucking wanted—make a mess all over me, like the pretty, desperate girl you are. Let me see it. Let me feel everything. Cum just for me.”

Your entire body proceeded to seize, Wonwoo’s fingers now struggling to pump, as this striking wave seemingly coursed through you and resulted in heavy fluids wetting his dress pants. It took a moment for you to power through the pleasure, though Wonwoo was at least able to maintain his stroking gestures against your clit until he noted the sharp, almost spastic twitches in your muscles.

“That’s a good girl,” Wonwoo hummed in satisfaction while he gingerly eased his fingers out and left your poor, throbbing bud alone.

He smoothed his hand down your back, offering you a moment to relax, breathe, and ride out the electricity.

“Fuck,” you wiped at the sweat on the back of your neck, chuckling at the discomfort, “I can feel it all between my legs.”

Wonwoo smirked. Hard. He bent forward to peck your temple, then brushed his lips against your stinging hot ear. "How about I clean that all up for you?" The velvety whisper caused your body to jitter.

"Clean me up how?" You turned your head, catching his eye.

There was a swap of positions. Wonwoo lowered himself to the bedroom floor, the carpet spongey against his knees, while you lay down on your back and draped your legs off the edge of the bed. But he was hungry for you, and greedier than a treasure hunter, and you went limp as he hitched your knees over his broad shoulders.

Being face to face with your intimate heat was like the kiss of life—new energy was taking over him—giving him desire unlike any other.

He didn't know if he wanted to keep staring at you, your soft skin messy with slick and twitching anticipatorly at his closeness, or if he should stop prolonging the moment and just bury everything into you. Adjusting his glasses, Wonwoo licked his bitten lips. You were in the midst of shuffling up to your elbows, likely wondering what the hell he doing, staring between your thighs for so long.

But as quickly as you squeaked his name, it was interrupted by an intense gasp a second later. You leaned all your weight onto a single elbow, tossing your head back, panting for dear life as Wonwoo striped his tongue long and flat against your heat. His hands gripped your hips, sculpting them over your bone while he tasted your arousal, all sticky and musky and delicious to the point of addiction.

"O-Oh my god, Wonwoo," you cried, letting your body collapse onto the bedsheets, limbs becoming jelly, "that feels fucking amazing."

He licked into you like he were trying to reach the centre of a sweet, colourful jawbreaker. Every pass from his tongue was firm, encompassing, smothering you in pleasure and painting you with spit. But you reacted best when he toyed his ministrations around your sensitive clit—your back would jolt off the bed, arched, as your thighs hugged him tight—Wonwoo heard your begging akin to a distant echo. He would even smile into you, glasses all foggy, chin running in wetness, as you preached his name dumbly, losing your mind. Wonwoo pressed his mouth hot against you, flicking his tongue to your overstimulated clit, focusing hard on his pattern.

"Fuck, fuck!" You shouted, writhing into the sheets. "Please, Wonwoo. Please, please, please—I'm—I'm gonna cum! Please, just—k-keep—"

There was a surge of something warm and liquid that Wonwoo wanted to drink like a peach's nectar. You were throbbing right under his tongue and he loved it to a point that felt utterly insane. He didn't want to stop even if the world was ending. His face plunged in deeper, his hands grafting into your hips harsher, completely ignorant to your fingers pulling at his hectic locks of hair. Wonwoo only wanted you and nothing else and he was going to drown in it.

But you were attempting to sit up, your sweaty body becoming better at escaping his eager, hungry licks that dug into your slit, and once he heard you wince particularly sharp, he knew he had to stop.

He sat back, removing his glasses and wiping off his chin. You slid a leg from his shoulder, using a foot to gently prod against his chest—a light scolding for perhaps enjoying you a little too much.

"Are you starved?" You laughed heavily, gulping down a breath.

Wonwoo fit the glasses back to his face. "For you? Yes." He then licked at his teeth and lips, still yearning to find traces of your arousal, only to realize you were shaking. "Shit—I'm sorry if I hurt you." Standing up, he cupped your face, bending down to kiss you gentle on the lips over and over. "I'm so fucking sorry. You taste amazing, that's all. And you're so beautiful. I couldn't fucking help it."

With a giggle, you tousled his hair. "No, I'm fine. I like a little pain." Your eyes were back to shining. Then, you caught his mouth, stealing another kiss. "But I’m even greedier than you—," pushing yourself up, you nipped at his lips, “—and I want that pretty, long cock inside me to hit all the right spots.” The exchange had you seated back in Wonwoo’s lap, where your bare, soaked pussy was free to brush against his straining and achingly hard length.

“Yeah?” Wonwoo smirked, welcoming your spit-smeared mouth.

Feeling your hips grind against him, you purred, “yeah.”

“I’ve got no protection,” Wonwoo admitted in between the make-out session, hardly able to pry your lips from one another as you slid backward on the bed with Wonwoo climbing over top.

Helping to shove off his dress shirt and slacks, discarding them to the floor, you shook your head. “Don’t need it.”

Returning the gesture, Wonwoo had you fully undressed. The entirety of your bare body on full display felt like something sacred—an artwork that had been crafted with unimaginable attentiveness to every single detail, no matter how miniscule. He couldn't liken it to anything else in his life but a distant memory from childhood—a grand mausoleum that he found himself inside with his older brother, the ceiling intricately chiselled with angelic, satin-like bodies.

Your words seemed distant. It took a second for him to remember.

“Don't need protection? Why?"

As your hands locked behind his neck, pulling him down close, you dug into his eyes with an emotional gaze. “Finish inside me.”

He stuttered, furrowing his brow, “seriously? You won’t—”

“No. I’m taking precautions, you know.” Brushing at his dampened, thick hair, you asked, “have you ever had unprotected sex?”

Wonwoo scoffed, surprised at the inquiry, “yeah. But—is that—you really want that? With me?” He stared down at you intensely.

“I only want it if you want it, too.”

He nodded, biting his lip, taking a moment to examine your perspiring face alongside the the rising and dipping of your chest.

“I want it,” Wonwoo reaffirmed, “I definitely want it.”

Truth be told, a splinter of nerves had lodged into his chest at the thought of having to perform to your anticipation—Wonwoo was never really sure if he would ever get intimate with you—and as his gaze again streamed your body, he felt overwhelmed. But then your fingertips were stroking down his bicep, seemingly drawing out the forthcoming anxiety from him like you were pulling out a thread of energy, and the easygoing smile he was met with tamed his heart.

Wonwoo eased closer toward you, allowing your expert touches to be the guide. Your hand had returned to his length for a few more thorough and especially lentamente tugs, prompting him to hiss into your neck while very flushed shades of pink crawled up his face.

He felt himself throb, wanting to simply collapse against you and climax at your hand for the second time. To make matters even more complicated, Wonwoo felt you shift slightly, and then the tip of his impatient cock was suddenly gliding all slippery like butter along your folds. Wonwoo’s arms started to shake.

You laid your palm gentle against his neck.

“How’s that feel?” You whispered in a trembling breath, meanwhile continuing the heavenly ministrations of tracing your clit with his length. “I-I think it feels quite nice—getting you all wet.”

“Amazing,” he answered, pressing his forehead to yours and pecking at your lips, “you want me to take it from here?”

Keeping silent, your grip drifted from his erection and you seemed satisfied to let the control sway now that Wonwoo was adjusted. Just before he aligned himself, however, he looked at you and laughed.

“Can you push up my glasses real quick?”

You chuckled, “seriously?”

“What’s wrong with wanting to be see you properly?”

“Nothing,” you flashed a tender smile, then using your finger to help position the glasses back up his nose, “there you go.”

Wonwoo proceeded to slide himself inside you at a slower pace that allowed him to bask in the intimate sensation—he made damn sure every little squeeze, flutter, and convulsion your heat cushioned him with was felt—though that made it considerably hard for him not to release in pathetic fashion, before he had even made a good, swift thrust. You were soaking up the moment just as much.

He didn’t want to advert his eyes from the pleasure cascading like ripples across your face for even a second. Once he was buried in still and deep, completely stuffing you to the hilt, your breath had fogged up his glasses.

“Fuck—s-sorry—” you squirmed through the apology, your hips occasionally canting against his in unbridled twitches, “—I can hardly fucking think right now. Do you know how much you’re throbbing?”

He choked out a hoarse laugh, “do you know how insanely good you feel to me? Feels like m’gonna fucking break into a million pieces. ”

“I want you to break me into a million pieces,” you whined so needily, looping your arms around his neck, “fuck me, Wonwoo. Please.”

He was positive you had told him that in a dream once.

As euphoric as you felt clenching around him, Wonwoo truly did want the sex to last. His thrusts into your heat weren’t frantically impatient, rather they grooved incredibly, purposefully deep—each stroke was thoughtful but hard, slow but timely, and judging from your high-pitched keens and the nails scraping against his shoulder blades, he knew you were appreciating the moment just the same.

Wonwoo grasped your sweaty hands in his, your fingers interlocking tight, in order to hold them against the sea of silky pillows above your head. With another especially daggering thrust that made his teeth clench and his abdomen flutter, you had jerked and cried out his name, followed by a breathless, “rr-right there!”

A leg wrapped around his hips, your ankle digging uncomfortably into his side while he continued to push his length into the spot that was making you howl. But it was getting increasingly difficult to continue the tempo—your leg was tightening around him like a boa constrictor and your warmth was clamping down with plain strength, almost as though your body was attempting to lock him inside.

He merely squeezed your hands harder, losing his breath. “You’re almost there, aren’t you?” Taking advantage of another thorough stroke, Wonwoo had the bedframe thudding the wall, his words hotly pressing into your ear. “You’re trying to keep me suctioned in.”

Your whimpers were falling apart like crumbling clay. Wonwoo tried to understand what it was you were mewling at him, something involving his name, how good it felt, that he should keep going, meanwhile tears were springing to your eyes and wetting your glimmery cheeks. Wonwoo bit his lip. He was throbbing wildly inside your heat, knowing you were only getting dumber and turning incoherent as he speared you so intimately on his cock.

Wonwoo wasn’t going to last much longer and neither were you. He was already feeling himself burst and break—the convulsion ripped through him like a landslide and now your leg was fully hooked around his hips, pinning him against you while he emptied himself disgustingly deep inside your warmth.

The sensation must have triggered your own orgasm, because his cock felt like it was practically being suffocated as you squeezed down on him. Wonwoo thought he might blackout when you whined his name into the dim bedroom humidity, strung in a loud, trembling lilt that cracked beautifully in the middle.

Your arms were winding back around his neck, pulling his face to yours, a kiss crushed onto his awaiting mouth.

“I need more,” you panted in between the kisses, “don’t feel full enough yet. Cum inside me again, Wonwoo. Please, take me again.”

“Again?” He smiled, his glasses bumping your nose. You were completely uncaring, only nipping at him harder. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted, “I’ve never been surer of anything in my fucking life.” Suddenly, you were wriggling underneath him, rolling onto your stomach, and repositioning yourself such that you were face-down-ass-up. With eyes twinkling bright in pure, carnal lust, you threw him a a yearning glance from over your shoulder. “Fuck me again, nice and deep like before." His heart shot into his throat. When you begged, it was like his world was shrinking into a bubble where only you and him existed. "Please—I need it before your cum starts leaking out. I need to be filled by you, Wonwoo. Please.” You looked like you might cry if he didn't oblige the plead.

And so he did, his fingers planting a firm grip on your strong hips.

As much as you were willing to take, he was willing to give, finding himself submerge further and further into the intoxicating nature of it all until he started to lose his mind—all he knew is that it was concerningly late at night, your bedsheets were sticky and ruined, and you had gone from being thrust into the pillows to slapping yourself down on his cock while Wonwoo hazily watched. He loved the sight of your sweat, your glowing light, your bouncing breasts and pleasure-drunk face far too much. At some point, you had slumped forward into him, spent to fucking hell.

With your chests were pressed together, his cock still throbbing and stuffed inside you, there was a moment of nothing but thick, laboured breathing and heartbeats synchronizing. He kissed your temple and wrapped his arms around you, proceeding to mumble something sweet and half-asleep that contained your name.

You had squeezed his length unforgivingly in response.

“Fuck—don’t get me hard again. I’m fucking exhausted.”

“I like when you use my name.”

He smiled into your cheek. “I can tell.”

Wonwoo had woken before you.

Mostly because the bedsheets had been gradually wrapped up and tugged away and progressively stolen from him during the night, letting the cool, morning air dust over him like spray from an ocean. You were a fidgety sleeper, he had realized, sometimes even a mumbler, although Wonwoo had never been able to discern what it was you were sluggishly declaring in your dreams.

He turned his head to you, saw the bare groove of your back, shapely like a flower petal, and your arm dug underneath the silk pillow, observing every breath your unconscious body took.

Then, Wonwoo was leaning over you, feeling his fingers sink into your fleshy waist while his lips touched a kiss against your warm cheek. He hoped you wouldn’t mind him using your washroom for a shower.

Afterward, Wonwoo retraced the apartment, finding his shoes a questionable distance apart—one stood square at the front door while the other was left in the hallway leading to your room. His winter jacket was tossed over the arm to the couch, meanwhile his phone involved a more in-depth search. For some reason, he’d left it atop a shelf beside the television, hidden by a clumsy stack of textbooks.

When he tapped the screen, it illuminated some text messages from Vernon that had been sent at around two in the morning—mostly inquiries about the birthday dinner and whether or not Wonwoo had bothered going to the famed and mysterious Room 319.

Though, he opted not to respond, realizing the details he wanted to share with his friend would likely require a sit-down discussion over burgers, fries, and sodas at Solar Pop. Making his way back to the bedroom, Wonwoo carefully creaked open the door to find you half-shoved onto an arm, making tired circles against your eye.

He smiled, coming to sit beside you, handing off the glass of water he poured for himself.

“Are you leaving?” Was the first question you blearily pieced together after accepting the water but not drinking anything from it.

Wonwoo shook his head. “No.”

You managed to sit up properly, the sheets settling around your hips while you continued holding onto the glass. For a moment, you seemed to just observe Wonwoo, your eyes still swollen from sleep.

“Where are you going, then?”

He furrowed his brow. “Nowhere,” Wonwoo laughed, pulling one leg up onto the bed. “I got up to shower. Went and found my things. Got a glass of water, which you’re now holding, by the way.”

You swallowed, looking down at your lap.

“Oh…” after a recollecting pause, you took a sip from it.

Wonwoo smiled, his eyes softening like fresh brown sugar, as he proceeded to unstick some matted hairs from the edge of your face.

“You’re a pretty big sheet stealer,” he said, continuing to spread his fingers about your features, removing fluffs and rubbing off bits of dried spit, “and you seem to like talking, even in your sleep.”

“Oh, yeah… I should have told you that.”

He shrugged. “It’s fine. I liked not knowing.”

“Did you?” With a laugh and smile, you drank some more water.

“Yeah. Because it’s you, it makes me adore it even more.”

“I don’t always mumble. I swear. Only sometimes.”

Wonwoo didn’t care. “It’s not a big deal.”

“I guess I should shower, too. Then I’ll change the sheets and get new ones on.” You abruptly raised the blankets at your lap, lifting up a leg to examine something Wonwoo couldn’t see. “Yeah, I definitely need to change the sheets… oh! And take my pill. Fuck. I can’t forget.”

“I can help with the sheets.”

“Okay,” you said while leaning forward to pull open a drawer on your nightstand, revealing a thin, silver cartridge of pills, “thanks.”

After you had showered and gotten dressed in a clean spare t-shirt, you changed the dirtied sheets to your bed together.

Then you and Wonwoo spent some time together in the open, bright living room, lounging on the couch. Maybe you had kissed a few more times, and maybe his naturally cold hands had found their way underneath your loose t-shirt to curiously massage and press along your pretty chest, and maybe you had kissed a little more after that while the sun rays slid up your sensitive skin.

You twisted away from Wonwoo’s lips with a giggle.

“M’kay, that’s enough, or else I’ll need another shower.” You grabbed at Wonwoo’s hands that had been squeezing your breasts.

Although he didn’t want to stop, he listened, relaxing against the pillow he had stuffed between his spine and the arm of the couch, now throwing an elbow behind his head. You were leaning back against him, getting comfy between his legs, and for a few minutes or so, the two of you gazed out those large, floor-length glass windows into the awakening, snow-capped city.

He felt you stir against him.

“You know… sometimes you don’t always speak English.”

Wonwoo itched his eyebrow, chuckling, “what?”

“Last night, like, when I was riding you—” your head tilted back onto his shoulder, beaming him a smile, “—you would start switching languages. In between English and Korean. It was so cute.”

“Oh, yeah.” He adjusted his glasses, staring down at you while his cheeks became rosy. “I don’t know, it’s just something my brain does automatically. I don’t always realize I’m doing it.”

You grinned; eyes sparkling. “When it feels too good?”

Ruffling a hand through his hair, he simply smirked at you.

“Having a front seat view to the most beautiful girl in the world riding me just happens to be something that makes me feel really good.”

You pushed your head up to kiss him, followed by a sweet and brief whisper that he smiled at, “compliment appreciated.”

A few more quiet minutes passed. Wonwoo thought he could spend the entire day just sitting on the couch with you warm in his arms, watching the snow tumble down like wisps of tender willows.

“Wonwoo?”

“Mm?”

You got quiet.

Then, your weight against his chest was gone, and you had half-turned yourself around to look at him, seeming nervous.

He tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you answered, glancing down briefly before soaking him back into your agleam eyes. “I just want to apologize, actually.”

At that, Wonwoo stiffened. “Yeah? What for?”

With a sigh and another anxious moment to fiddle with the rolled-up cuff belonging to his wrinkled dress shirt, you were reserved.

“Ever since we fought, I can't help thinking about it. I mean, I’ve thought about what you said, and the fact you apologized, and explained yourself, and how you gave me time to process it all. You gave me so much grace, even when I felt like I hated you… but… I also said some hurtful things about you… I mean, back then I felt like you deserved it. And, I don’t know… maybe you did? Like, maybe we both needed to just be there, screaming at each other, digging our guts out, throwing up all this stuff to the surface because no one else has ever given us that freedom or made us feel like we could before. Anyway, I just feel like it’s only right that I say sorry, too.”

Scratching at his neck, Wonwoo swallowed. He never thought of it like that. “Uh, sure. If that’s what you feel you need to do. ”

“I’m sorry, Wonwoo. I really, truly am.”

He smiled, grasping at your hand and threading his fingers with yours. Pangs of regret were flooding your eyes, filling them up until they were undoubtedly teary and Wonwoo had to wipe it all away.

“It’s fine, I swear,” he whispered, moving in closer to you, brushing at your cheek as you sniffled. “Nothing has ever truly changed how I feel about you. You’re incredibly firm but sensitive, and have such fiery passion, and you’re curious about everything, and I know that it hurts so much to live without really knowing yourself. But I see you, and I feel like I know you. I never want to stop knowing you, alright?”

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

Your mouth pressed against his, and he tasted the salt from the tears that beaded down the slopes of your cheeks, warm with life.

“I love you.” He felt the whisper touch at his lips. “I really do.”

Wonwoo held onto your face like he was cradling a big pearl. “I love you, too.” Another kiss sealed the expression into felt, tangible emotion. “But honestly, you already knew that.”

Later in the day, you came up to Wonwoo as he ate lunch at the table, only after having disappeared into a distant office space further down the hallway. You dropped before him a clear, plastic duotang, which held a notably thick stack of papers that had quite a weight to it upon picking up. It only took a few flips into the papers for Wonwoo to realize that it was the completed book he used to proofread for you—a series of chronological memories between yourself and the boyfriend you had gradually drifted apart from.

True to your word, you had forged ahead and finished the book alone.

He was proud to hold the evidence.

Wonwoo asked what you planned to do with the book now that it was done. He even wondered if you might let him read some parts he never got to work on, though he understood if you preferred to keep the contents private. As he was in the middle of lifting a hot spoon to his mouth, Wonwoo suddenly paused at hearing your response.

“I think I’ll just shred it.”

You didn’t seem to care.

The decision came easier than pressing a button. There was only one copy of the book, apparently, and you had plans to turn all its pages into literary confetti. But that was a very you thing to do, Wonwoo had come to accept. Writing served many purposes, and it seemed that the purpose you had sought out was met. Somewhere, in all those paragraphs, sentences, letters, and ink, you found the fulfillment you had always ached for. At last, you struck a glimmer of promising gold after digging through all the haze and confusion.

“Sure,” he answered, “shred away.”

—8 MONTHS LATER. END OF JUNE.

“It looks so pathetic!”

“What?! No it doesn’t!”

Peeking up from the mason jar of earthy blue water he’d been swirling together using some dirtied paintbrushes, Wonwoo saw you seated across from him, talking to a very dismayed, upset twelve-year-old girl. Sierra’s little sister, Cora, had enrolled in his landlord’s ceramics class over the summer, and thus every Saturday evening she spent her time moulding unwilling chunks of grey clay alongside other similarly aged students. It was only Cora in the shop since she had been the last to get her teapot in the kiln, taking extra time with every minute detail.

Though, despite her care and attentive pace, Cora was still not pleased with the teapot, leading her to grumble and shake her head.

You were sitting beside her, a hand rubbing along the little girl’s back while she continued scrutinizing her creation. Ever since you moved into Wonwoo’s apartment back in May, Saskia had quite liked you more than her average tenant, and that somehow transformed into an offer to help her teach the summer ceramics class (with pay).

Wonwoo was always there to assist in the clean-up afterward—his favourite part was submerging all the greasy, bristly paintbrushes into a clean jar of water so that he could watch how their colours bled out in thin, swirling hues.

“No, no, no—it’s just bad.”

“I’m telling you. It’s not.”

Cora picked up the lid to the pot, then placed it back down. “There—look—it doesn’t even close properly. And the spout is not spouty enough… it’s too thick, I think. Hardly any tea will go through!”

“Well, I really like it.”

Tucking a tuft of poofy, rust-brown hair behind her ear, Cora gave you a suspecting and funny sort of look that made Wonwoo smile to himself. She was a very shy student, but she talked to you the most.

“You say that about everything I make,” Cora sighed.

“So what?”

“So…” she nibbled on her small lip, looking off to the side, “you have to say that, because you're nice. You’re like my mom. She says she loves everything I make. But then why don’t I ever love it?”

“She loves it because you made it, obviously. And she loves you. I think love changes how we look at things. Even the impractical.” Then, you picked up her teapot and moved it closer. “You know why I like this teapot? Because it shows you’re determined. I mean, look at all those bowls on the newspaper over there—you’re the only one who did the teapot! And you did it mostly by yourself. You wouldn’t even let me help you roll out the clay. So, that’s why I like it. Because I see you in it. And when you tackle it again, you’ll know what to do differently. Plus, you know you can ask me for help, right? You know I’ll always help you.”

The little girl’s freckled face suddenly became less twisted with judgement and frustration. She set her elbows onto the table, scratching at a Hello Kitty bandaid along the back of her hand, while you gave her hair a quick ruffle. Wonwoo started drying off the paintbrushes using paper towel before moving them into the cup labelled “clean” with a piece of tape.

“What should I do with this, then? If it won’t work,” Cora asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know. But for now, just leave it with the other stuff. We’ll give it a nice glaze next time around. Make it even prettier. Then you can decide what to do with it—whether or not you want to keep it or smash it on the ground. It’s up to you, Cora.”

Wonwoo tilted his head. “Why don’t you turn it into a miniature flower pot or something? Fill it with soil and plant something in it?”

Cora raised her eyebrows. “I like that idea, actually.”

“Me too,” you said, shooting Wonwoo a sly wink that he smiled very stupidly at, “look at this guy over here. Lurking with his good ideas.”

By the time Sierra was available to pick up her sister, Wonwoo had officially finished cleaning all the paintbrushes and whittling tools, as well as replacing the tablecloth with a fresh one. The three of you stood at the base to the shop’s very small stoop, exchanging some general conversation while a sleepy Cora held onto her sister’s hand and leaned her seemingly heavy head against her side.

The sky was a tame yellow shade, not as bright as a buttercup, but something delicate of the like.

“Hey—I heard you guys are planning a vacation!” Sierra chirped, adjusting the car keys in her hand, “is that all true?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, flashing Wonwoo a soft smile, “uh, we decided that we’re gonna spend some time in South Korea. I haven’t visited his family at all. But, yeah. Gonna leave start of August and come back right before October. So, a pretty good chunk of time.”

“No way!” She exclaimed.

“We’ll see how it pans out,” Wonwoo commented, sliding his arm around your waist and digging his fingers into your hip. “But my brother won’t shut his mouth about meeting her. And my parents are obviously curious. Besides, there are some great places I want to show off.”

Sierra shook her head. “I’m jealous. And totally sure you guys will have a great experience together. We’ll miss you here, though.”

“Please do,” you laughed, and Sierra pinched your cheek.

She then looked down at her sister, who had her eyes shut.

“Okay, I’m gonna get this little dove home. Thank you so much for helping her at ceramics by the way. She talks about you all the time.”

“Really?” You touched at your face, seeming flustered. “Well, I love helping her out. She’s a sweet girl with a lot of will on her shoulders.” Lowering your voice, you moved in closer to Sierra. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for a cute gift she can have while we’re gone.”

After parting ways with Sierra and Cora, you and Wonwoo returned upstairs, back into the apartment to prepare for supper.

Both of you were feeling particularly lazy, and the shiny red tomato he was supposed to chop ended up being ignored in place of eating ice cream straight from its tub.

You were the one who grabbed it—Wonwoo was only following suit as he picked up a spoon and curved some out.

Something else interesting about you that Wonwoo had learned since moving in together was that you didn’t really care to ever sit on a chair, even when you were eating. It was either the sofa, the floor, or the kitchen table, in which you would be holding onto your food even though he always thought how easier it could be if you did sit down properly. The quirk was fun, nonetheless, and Wonwoo had admittedly started looking at the kitchen table in a different light after he proceeded to give you oral on it one night. Consequently, it bloomed a very dangerous habit between the two of you.

A habit that might become drastically less accessible once you two jetted off to his native country for over a month, confined between his parent’s cozy home where he grew up and the two-story apartment his wealthy brother and sister-in-law owned in the glittering heart of South Korea’s Seoul. He was nervous. You were nervous. But at least you were together.

Over the months, your parents had gradually come to accept him as your boyfriend, even if they weren't exactly warmed up to the idea at the start. Wonwoo revisited your home a few times alongside you to help in the explanations of your story and future prospects, although he partially understood that Mingyu was like a precious sapphire to your family and having him out so suddenly was hard to stomach.

He spent years nestling himself a comfortable burrow and smoothing out the bumps to make a crafty façade that, particularly your mother, couldn't help but outwardly adore. Like a son. Like Seokmin, too.

Wonwoo thought Mingyu might give him trouble.

In truth, he'd scarcely seen him, unless transient glimpses of his towering, quickly bustling figure from across a university campus or city street were noteworthy. Obviously, he wasn't inside Mingyu's head and he really had no inclination as to what the boy might be thinking on the occasion he spotted you and Wonwoo hand-in-hand at the park, or sharing breakfast at the café along Sunnyside.

But if Mingyu maintained even half the feelings that Wonwoo did for you, then he was positive it hurt like fucking hell.

Of all people, Wonwoo supposed he himself knew best.

—AUGUST 1ST.

“Wonwoo!”

He closed his dresser drawer, almost slamming his fingers inside. Your voice echoed from the living room, sounding hectic.

“Yes? What’s up!”

“The taxi’s here!”

Fuck. He immediately thought. The time was flying by.

Wonwoo had made a gigantic list of what to pack, but over time he kept adding and taking things away from it. Now, it was early morning, soft rain and cracks of bursting light coming down outside, and he was doing a final clean-sweep of the bedroom as well as his poorly scribbled list to ensure everything he needed was with him.

Quickly approaching the window, Wonwoo glanced outside to see the cab parked at the curb. Fuck. Again. Vernon always said he would happily provide you two a ride to the airport, but then the boy was unsurprisingly wrapped back into some trouble, and Wonwoo hadn’t seen his best friend in over a week.

Graciously, however, Vernon had given him a heads up and a proper goodbye beforehand. He’d even left him a voicemail to listen to, which immediately jumped into Wonwoo’s brain at random as he scrambled around the bedroom in search of his phone.

“Just give me one more minute!” Wonwoo shouted.

There was a pause on your end, and then a sigh.

“Do you need help?”

“No—all good. I promise. Can you let the cab driver know?”

“I will.”

“Thank you!” Wonwoo sang, finding the phone blended into his bedsheets, then proceeding to open his inbox. “I love you!”

“I love you, too!” You shouted back. “Just hurry the fuck up!”

He let Vernon’s message play while also tossing his suitcase onto the bed, stuffing in a few more last-minute grabs with utter clumsiness.

“Heyyy, Glasses! How are things? I’m shooting you this cute little message at arounddd—oh! Looks like it’s two in the mornin’! It’s two in the fuckin’ mornin’ and I’m pulled up outside this dude’s house all ‘cause he can’t pay me back for my good, hard services. It’s nothin’ serious, though. Don’t get all uptight like usual. You know I’m good at handlin’ stuff and keepin’ my cool. Probably my better qualities. Anyway, I’m bored as fuck. I’ve spun this Lloyd CD about four times and I just can’t listen to that dude anymore. He can sing, though.

I am pissed you’re leavin’ me. And I’m pissed she’s leavin’ me, too. You guys are what I look forward to whenever I drive down into that shithole city. Well, I think just about every city’s a shithole city. In fact, the city I’m in now is probably more of a shithole… Seokmin texted me the other day—said he wants to talk—which is vague as fuck and to be honest, I’ve been ignorin’ it ‘cause I can’t get myself to give a god damn. But maybe I’ll hear him out. That guy was a cutie, wasn’t he? I still think you’re a bit cuter. And better at mini-put.

I’ll miss you a lot when you’re down there… it got me thinkin’ about the night when we first met. The New Year’s Eve party. You remember that pretty well, don’t’chya? I saw you come in with those guys—they didn’t look like your crowd at all—but then after a while you were alone. Wanderin’ around. It didn’t even seem like you knew anyone else was there. You had the blankest look on your face. Like you were stuck in a loop and you didn’t even know it. I don’t know that I felt pity or anything… hell, maybe I felt a little. I just talked to ‘ya ‘cause I wanted to know if you knew where you even were.

You knew you were at some stupid, loud, awful fuckin’ house party jammed with unfamiliar faces. You knew how much you hated bein’ there. But I don’t think you actually knew how you got there, or why, or what was supposed to happen next. It kinda drew me to you. I wanted to understand it. And you gave me the weirdest look, too, when I stopped you. But once I got you outside, away from all the bullshit, you loosened up just a bit and I realized I was talkin’ to this smart, well-rounded, thoughtful guy who was just a little lost in the weeds.

I know you didn’t really care about me like that. I was just some jumped-up weirdo who could give you mint weed at a sweet price. But I still liked you… I dunno… other people see you differently when they care a whole lot, don’t they? I guess they see things about you that others can’t, or they know exactly what you could be when others don’t. They see stuff even you can’t see. It’s like a superpower, I think… my best superpower is probably makin’ girls giggle. I’ve got a lot of charm, wouldn’t you agree? Ha—anyway—stay safe on your trip, tell Her that I’ll miss her a lot, too—oh! Oh!

Fuck! That’s it. That little fucker is comin’ outside—he can’t resist his two am darts on the porch. God bless you, nicotine! Okay, uh, guess this is me hangin’ up on you. Later, Wonwoo!”

At that point, everything Wonwoo needed was packed. But he’d taken the additional time to complete Vernon’s voicemail, now sitting on the edge of his bed while staring out into the early, glimmering rain shower and the water droplets collecting against his window.

Then, Wonwoo glanced down at the laptop he had open.

He hadn’t written in… months. Not even months—it had been over a year since Wonwoo wrote. And, somehow, it felt good not to write.

It felt necessary to step away from the craft.

Besides, writing would always be there. Just because he hadn’t filled up a document on his computer with harmoniously arranged words, or penned anything down in the journal he used to scribble poetry in, that didn’t make him not a writer. In fact, it could be crucial to know when to step away from something—when to let go of an invisible weight keeping one from progressing. While he hadn’t thought about it in months, it floated to the surface of his mind that there may be something he should let go.

The unfinished book. 01.

Wonwoo deleted it. Simple as that.

Shoving the laptop into his shoulder-sling bag, Wonwoo made sure to knab his journal from the nightstand before he left, just in case anything did excite him with a crack of inspiration as he embarked on his newest chapter with you at his side. Rolling his suitcase hurriedly behind him, Wonwoo rushed out onto the street, feeling the rain graze his hair and skin, while you were leaned against the cab, arms folded and teeth anxiously raking over your bottom lip.

He peppered the cab driver in apologies while he helped shove the suitcase into the trunk.

“Liar—” you grumbled after sliding into the cab, undoing the buttons on your coat, “—you said one minute, not one lifetime.”

“I know, I know,” Wonwoo laughed, removing his glasses to rub off the mist and dew, “but that voice mail from Vernon distracted me.”

“Let me do it,” you said, taking his glasses with a sigh, “we should be fine. I know we’ll make it on time… I guess I’m just on edge.”

He watched you massage at the lenses gently with a sleeve. The driver climbed back into the cab, now pulling away from the pottery shop and driving toward the beam of light that sliced through the dense clouds, like the sun was handling a giant blade.

“Everything’s gonna work out, I promise… and I already told you that we’ll be staying with Bohyuk first, right? Him and Nari?”

Handing the glasses back to Wonwoo, you nodded.

“Yeah… god—I hope he likes me.”

“Oh, he will. You guys are pretty similar, actually.”

The look you gave him warbled slightly.

“What if that’s a bad thing? Every time you tell me a story about your brother, it usually involves you loathing him for something.”

“Those stories took place years ago.”

“But the feelings are still there, aren’t they?”

Wonwoo settled his hand over top yours, giving your fingers a soothing squeeze. He knew you wanted to make the perfect first impression. After all, first impressions were not something that could be easily taken back or erased, unless the people you were meeting were quite forgiving. And Bohyuk was fortunately the forgiving type.

It was only time that Wonwoo exercise the quality as well.

Leaning in close to your face, Wonwoo gazed into your eyes, watching their frantic nature become still like the surface of a calm pond.

“You’ve got nothing to worry about, alright?” He murmured.

Huffing out an intense, long breath, you nodded.

“Alright… can I have a kiss, please?”

Lifting his hand to graze against the side of your cheek, he paused to admire your beauty for a moment, only to properly cup your face and push his lips to yours—which tasted sweet and balmy—before feeling you push back firm. He proceeded to give you another soft kiss for good measure, one that cured you to smile all fluttery and coy against his mouth until he was inevitably smiling, too.

In fact, Wonwoo only ever found himself smiling that hard when he was with you.

—END.

heyyyy :] ramble incoming...

first and foremost, ABOVE ALL ELSE, i just want to say thank you! i know this was a very, very long fic for me to be uploading on tumblr. this site is not the most fanfic friendly (or creation friendly for that matter) so stomaching the fact that this needed to be split up into so many parts was like a dagger to the heart! for those who decided to buckle up and lock into this journey, i honestly thank you so much <3 life was not always kind in the process of writing this (hence the fact it took me 2 years, plus some extra) but i was so dedicated to seeing this story through! a lot of the frustration i was feeling toward myself was funnelled into wonwoo's character, so this is quite personal :3

nonetheless, i hope there's something, even a single thing, someone else can take away from the story as well! both wonwoo and her as characters introduce their own unique themes--wonwoo (at the core) is more so about learning to let go in order to progress, whereas her is about using creative tools to help guide the search for identity. i think that writing has helped me learn a lot about myself (even uncomfy, icky things) so i wanted that to be represented through her.

of course, these are not the only things they stand for! but these are the elements i based their characters on, to which other concepts sprouted from. i also loved the idea of pairing someone as lost and misguided and emotionally stunted as wonwoo with this girl who seems so bossy and firm. at first he doesn't like it, but that was really what he needed to accept some of the flaws holding him back. idk if you're familiar with the EXCUSE ME! HE ASKED FOR NO PICKLES! meme but that's what comes to mind when i think of them xD

additionally: special shout out to vernon. he became a much bigger part of this story than i originally intended. he is in some ways wonwoo's foil. vernon knows he's flawed but that's sorta his strength and what makes him genuine. he witnesses wonwoo's entire journey, so at times he also feels like our role, the "reader" and gives wonwoo some wisdomy parting words without rly knowing it (but that's part of his charm <3 i don't want vernon's emotional intelligence to be underrated, which is also an ode to the conversation wonu & her have back in the museum. wonwoo knows there are different types of intelligence and emotionally he is lackinggg).

also small s/o to seokmin. SORRY! HAD TO DO IT!

this has been my slowest slowburn! i wasn't sure how late they were going to kiss. but i didn't want to force anything. i wanted to add the moment when i felt it was surely right! also, if you haven't yet listened to the playlist and you're curious, i recommend listening to the very last song, writer, by ellie goulding. i've been listening to that song for many years, and one day it hit me how coincidentally her lyrics overlap with some of the fic's storyline!

i think it adds a nice final touch <3

LASTLY!

upon contemplation, i will be uploading this fic to ao3 in the same chaptered format it's been posted here! i realize the convenience to bookmarking on that site (and it also doesn't give people's phones a heart attack when trying to read something lengthy) so i hope that appeases some of you who wish to reread with more leisure! i'll be under the username @/uglypluto!

i'll upload the final chapter (this chapter) to ao3 probably between late sunday & early monday.

THANK YOU x100! 💕

[chimivx]

That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?

👫 -> college!teez x fem!reader/oc {frat/sorority} #️⃣ -> 10.5k (part EIGHT of ten) ‼️ -> 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, heavy angst, infidelity adjacent moments, mean boys, mean girls, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

{ there are names & faces in here that come from NMWID <3 }

october 4th ~ friday ~ 8:45 p.m.

A pop song from decades past hummed through the speakers, the sound at volume incredibly tolerable. You were thanking the girl behind the bar with your mind for not blaring it when there was barely anybody in the place. A couple older guys with baseball caps sat around the bar, the tv’s hanging up on the wall behind the curly blonde working hard played a baseball game. The playoffs had started for the season, these were important games now, there’d be a champion in a month or so.

DK’s team didn’t make it through, but they came close. Thinking of Isla while you watched the men in striped jerseys throw the ball around, guilt weighed on your chest. It’d been over a week and still, no one had heard from her. Not even Vernon.

Turning your glass in circles where it collected condensation on the wooden table you sat at, you leaned forward and took a sip, letting the vodka cool the pressure building within you from the inside out. It wasn’t too strong, not like the drinks at ATZ, but it was enough to ease the anxieties that had made their home within your nervous system.

For a week you’ve been a nauseous wreck. 

Last Saturday, the recruitment dinner, where it felt like your life had crumbled overnight, haunted you. Everything you thought you knew, everybody you thought you could trust, it was all a lie. Not only a lie, but a lie that had been brewing for a year. Since last semester, since Yeji walked out of that bedroom with that smug grin on her face, since Wooyoung threw away what the two of you had, since Yunho became your saving grace… A lie. All of it.

Wooyoung and Yeji never slept together. Were you supposed to believe that? He was pretty convincing Saturday night, pulling you out of the house once the two groups of authorities dispersed, Yeji running off somewhere before you had a second to confront her. 

And, oh lord, you longed to confront her.

ITZ had been paid off. Yeji gave them copious amounts of money so that she could be president. At least, that’s what Wooyoung had told you. It was your name, you were written down, Choi Aurora, you were supposed to be the president of ITZ for the last two years of your time here at Nasara, and you couldn’t figure out why.

Yeji has the money, Yeji has the face, Yeji has the fame. You have no money, you lived in a two bedroom rancher with your single, drug dealing father, and you have not the slightest idea what it takes to be a leader of a group of girls in dire need of somebody to look up to, somebody to place their blame on.

President Aurora? Yeah, okay.

Lighting up on the table, your phone took your attention from the TV though you longed to watch. The fans in the stands were on their feet, waving their rally towels in the air, shouting to their favorite players on the field. It was exciting, invigorating, no wonder Vernons dedicated his life to the sport. You’d have to get out to a game next season. Maybe if you could track down Isla, get them to make up somehow, you’d be able to go to games together.

You’d choose Tori first, always, but unfortunately you weren’t speaking at the moment.

She was the one lighting up your phone. Blowing it up, actually. Texts, phone calls, attempts to get through to you since she woke up on Sunday and you were nowhere to be found. Not answering her hurt you, because she was the only person you’d respond to straight away no matter the situation, no matter what you were doing. If you had a Tori notification, you were answering it. To go almost a week without speaking to her, it pained you. But, at this point, who knew what and didn’t tell you?

You needed time. You needed space. You still attended your classes for the week, ensuring your grades didn’t slip amidst this chaos, you just didn’t live at ITZ.

“I’ll buy you another if you need it, you don’t have to worry about nursing that one,” your father said, sitting beside you, leaning back in his chair, his arms folded over his chest. Sipping your drink again, taking a much longer sip than before, you shifted your eyes over to him and he laughed. “You get to relax this weekend, okay? We can turn off your phone and hang out, just me and you.”

Almost laughing at his use of hang out, you smirked and swallowed your drink. “What about Seulgi?”

Yeonjun smiled, shaking his head. “Just me and you.” Taking in his twisted brows, the most animated part of his face, something you wonder if you’ve acquired from him, you took a breath. The door to the bar swung open, your father laughing as the tall, short black haired, thirty years younger, beefier version of himself walked through the door. “And Keeho, apparently.” 

His feline eyes scanned around the bar, not taking long to spot you and your father. When he did, his resting bitch face erupted into the warmest smile, one you’ve missed. Ignoring the girl at the bar who greeted him, he held out his arms and hurried toward the table, catching you as you jumped to your feet to get swallowed by his hug.

“Oh my god,” he sang, the twang of his voice comforting you tenfold. “What the hell are you doing home? I missed you.”

Squeezing him hard, you groaned. “I missed you, too.”

“We just saw each other last month.” Yeonjun snickered.

Keeho shot him a look over your head, one of his hands smoothing over your hair. “It was a month too long, Yeonjun.” Unraveling yourself from his grasp, you laughed and sat back down beside your father, pulling your feet up onto the chair.

Yeonjun closed his eyes for all of three seconds, took a deep breath and let it out with a headshake, turning his attention toward the TV. Keeho was the only person he’d allow to snap at him like that, it’s been that way for years. He’s one of your homegrown friends, the two of you growing up together in the forgotten parts of Tamoe, where the rich people didn’t linger. Your houses were on the same street, right along the town's border of Soro, the main reason why the rich people didn’t stray too far south.

Sharing an age with you, Keeho still lived at home with his parents and his younger brother. Attending all the same schools at the same time, not wanting to mess with the other kids who were tougher than you, the two of you linked up. Keeho, a bisexual muscle mass of pure boy, and you, the girl who wouldn’t see her dad for weeks at a time, but when she did it’s because she had to go to a random police station with her Uncle Yoongi to bail him out of his holding cell.

Yeonjun knew how to make a scene, he could draw a crowd, which made it really hard to keep friends, or make any for that matter. Keeho was the right amount of different, the right amount of crazy, the perfect amount of understanding all wrapped into a judgement free, couldn’t care less human being. Even when he met your father, at the ripe age of eleven years old, he wasn’t afraid. At the time Yeonjun towered over him, but now, Keeho was only an inch shorter. The difference unnoticeable.

Seated around the wooden slab, Keeho stretched his arms across it and watched you wide eyed as you told him how you've been living your week.

“Father of the year, Yeonjun,” he said to your dad, making him crack the smallest smile, his eyes not leaving the TV. All week he’d been driving you into Delo, onto Nasara’s campus, taking you to and from classes, waiting for you outside the buildings. He’d often mumble his disappointment toward the students who’d let their glares linger on you as you walked in and out. Most had a dirty look in their eye, but a few watched in sympathy.

“I don’t want her in that house anymore,” he mumbled, scoffing as something happened within the game. “Not unless those social media posting bitches grow up.”

Keeho furrowed his brows, turning to you. “You’re gonna drop out of the sorority?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, ignoring your dad as he shot you a look.

“Tell him what that girl did,” he said. “The president of that stupid hierarchy shit.”

“Wait, Yeji?” Keeho asked, sitting up. After you nodded, he laughed. “You’re kidding me, what the hell happened? I know we weren’t looking forward to her being head of this hierarchy shit, not after…” His eyes insinuated what your father didn’t know. “What’d she do?”

Sighing, you dropped your gaze to the table and shrugged. “It sounds literally crazy, Kee. Like, those movies we used to watch, where the shit that goes down is unfathomable.”

“Unfathomable,” he huffed a laugh, “You’re talking like Yunho.”

Letting your eyes close, the sting of your heart overwhelming, you glanced at your dad when he snatched his empty glass off the table.

“Fuck that dickwad, too,” he said, lifting the glass toward Keeho before he strutted toward the bar. He watched Yeonjun walk away, then whipped his head to look at you wide eyed and confused as hell.

“Fuck that dickwad too,” you whispered.

Scooting his chair somewhat closer, Keeho leaned toward you. “I thought we liked him,” he said quietly, keeping the words between you. “At least, I thought you liked him, I could see it, Aura. When we hung out with him this summer, good lord, the two of you were insufferable.”

Everyone could see it but you, apparently.

Tangling your fingers together over your knees, you smushed your lips together and blew a stream of air through them. “I don’t even know if he ever really liked me.” 

Keeho threw his head backward. “What the fuck, start from the beginning, what the hell happened?”

So, you did.

Starting from the beginning, restating the story of Wooyoung, who Keeho had strong opinions about. From the Yeji hook up, to falling into Yunho, to the ATZ ban, to finding out about him and Mina, to hooking up with Seonghwa, to then hooking up with Yunho, to him telling you he loved you (where Keeho just about leapt out of his seat), to the Soul situation, to keeping it all a secret from the outside, to Isla disappearing, to the recruitment dinner…

“You said all of that to her?!” Keeho’s tone was harsh through his teeth, his whisper sharp. When you shrugged he cackled. “Aura, what?!”

“I don’t know if that’s really all of it, it’s blurry,” you said. “But, I think I went in on her. It just kept coming out. I think I was tired of keeping it all a secret.”

“You said she didn’t react?” Keeho asked, and took your nod for an answer. “Aura,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “Looking at… all of that,” he spoke slowly, thinking at the same time, “Do you think there’s a chance she, like, knew about you guys already?”

The words should shock you, but they don't. You’ve thought about it already. The way they all huddled up together, aside from Tori and Yuna, making everything seem like one big ploy. Seonghwa sleeping with you, Yunho not getting rid of Mina when he should’ve the second he started harboring feelings for you… If he was even harboring feelings for you.

“And what about Mingi? If Tori knew, and she’s likely to tell her boyfriend everything, did Mingi spill shit to ATZ? But, if ATZ and ITZ were in cahoots this whole time it seems, and Mina already knew, it could’ve been her spilling shit to everyone?”

None of it made sense, even Keeho, who was smarter than Yunho, couldn’t figure it out. All week you’ve been trying to string it together, trying to understand why any of this had to happen. If Yeji wanted to be president so badly, and she had the money to do so, why in the world would she need to ruin your life in the process?

“Have you talked to Tori at all?”

Her name made your stomach start to hurt.

“No,” you said, taking in his understanding gaze full of sorrow. “I can’t talk to any of them, I’m so sick about it. Which makes me want to drop out of the house and run away. They’re… monsters. All of them. She looked at me like she had no idea, Kee, I can say that. It seemed like she and Yuna weren’t in on it, which I can only hope.” Mingi pops into your mind, the way he tried to reach out for Tori before you left, but she swatted him away, pushing him back. You had no reason to not trust Tori, even though she did get really close with Mina fast, and she was dating Mingi who seemed like he was in on it.

If Tori did know, if Tori was in on all of it, it would hurt the most out of everything that's happened to you thus far.

“I don’t know what I want to do,” you said, looking at your father who carried three glasses back to the table. “Dropping out of the house seems ideal, not having to be around all of those girls who don’t want me there anyway.”

“Exactly,” Yeonjun cheered, a smile making its way onto his face. Sliding the glasses onto the table, one for each of you, he sat down and let out a groan as he did. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard you say all week, Aura.” Keeho grabbed his glass and sipped it, thanking your father with a wink, one that Yeonjun returned. 

“Yeah, well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Taking your second glass, you drink from it and screw your face up. It was stronger than the first. “Jesus, Dad, what’d you tell her to put in here?”

Yeonjun laughed, sitting backward like he was. “I asked for something that’ll make you feel better.”

“Haven doesn’t make drinks like this,” you said, coughing after another sip. “How much did you pay her?”

“Enough,” Yeonjun nodded once, then pointed his eyes at Keeho. “How’s life, Kee? You know, since I saw you last month?”

Laughing, Keeho sipped his drink. “A lot better now that I broke up with my boyfriend.”

Yeonjun’s lips parted in shock. “And this happened when?”

“Two months ago,” you said, looking at your dad who gaped back at you.

Keeho shrugged. “I didn’t want to talk about it when you asked me about him last time.”

Yeonjun moved his chair beneath the table and rested his elbows on the wood, leaning toward your friend who sat across from him. “Well,” your father bobbed his head, “Tell me now.”

The two fell into a deep discussion quickly, Yeonjuns focus on him completely, hanging onto every word of every story Keeho was telling him. He had broken up with his boyfriend of two years, a boy who was holding him back from being a better version of himself. A boy who wouldn’t speak nicely to him or others, a boy who snuck about and would beat around the bush whenever Keeho asked him about anything. It was toxic, and you’re surprised Keeho dealt with him for so long, but he was free now.

Fifteen minutes later, all three drinks gone, they were finally on the break up story when the door to Haven opened and slammed shut. Two boys walked in, possibly around your age, one taller than the other. The tallest had a curly brown mop on his head, the other with longer, shaggier hair tucked beneath a baseball cap. His face was hidden by the shadows, but his body told you that regardless of what his features were he was good looking.

In a black t-shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, three silver necklaces hung over his chest, one of them a dog tag. His shoulders were wide, his arms rippling with muscle as he walked and said hello to some of the men at the bar. The boy beside him, tall and lanky, had eyes as big as the moon and a smile so welcoming you couldn’t tear your eyes from it. Their energy was captivating, walking into the place like they owned it, the short one’s hips swaying in his walk, a confidence oozing out of his being.

They took to the end of the bar where no one sat, both of them situating themselves on the wooden stools, ordering drinks from the bartender who gave them a friendly smile. They clearly came here often, they spoke to her like they knew her, and when she walked away, they spoke to one another like they were closer than friends, like they knew each other better than that. 

The taller one with the curls, he was familiar, that smile like one you’ve seen before, but couldn’t place from where.

It wasn’t until the shorter one took his hat off and pushed his hair back that it all made sense. Your heart skipped a beat. He was good looking, he was gorgeous. A jaw pointed and sharp was home to a charismatic smile living below the sweetest nose and the most beguiling eyes. A beautiful face. A face you and Tori had to zoom in on.

Chan.

Chan and his cousin, Minho, or so you believe. Tori had told you that.

They were closer than friends, they were family.

Mina’s family.

“Aura kinda convinced me that it was time,” Keeho said to your dad who nodded. “Even though I knew it, she gave me the confidence to finally let go of something I was holding onto that was hurting me.” He looked at you with a smile. “Right?”

Nodding, not taking your eyes off of Chan, you rubbed Keeho’s arms and stood up. “Yeah, I’m proud of you,” you mumbled. “I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get another drink.”

“Can you get me a-”

You didn’t hear the rest of your fathers question, your feet were on a mission, they had a mind of their own. Bounding for the bar, keeping yourself as calm as possible, though your blood threatened to boil over, you perched yourself on the corner closest to Chan and Minho, the two speaking to one another like they were keeping a secret. The bartender returned, a girl with a name tag that read Hope. Her hair was hanging at her shoulders, naturally curly blonde hair that turned different colors when she walked beneath the different neon colored lights. Your father told you all about this place, the history, apparently it’s always looked the same.

A time capsule of sorts.

“What can I get you?” Hope asked after she brought drinks to the boys. “You’re with him, right?” Her nod toward your father made you smile.

“Yeah,” you said. “Can I have whatever he got me before? Tasted like vodka, I think? I don’t even know what it was.”

Hope laughed. “Of course, give me a minute, I’ll be right back.” She took your glass and whisked herself down the bar, getting to work. Glancing up to the TV, the ballgame nearly over now, you took a deep breath and watched as it cut to the announcers talking about other teams and players. DK appeared on the screen, a photo of him from this past season on the pitcher's mound, his eyes pointed and focused on the batter in front of him. The words along the bottom read like a news story, that he was disappointed his team didn’t make it into the playoffs, but that he was getting much needed family time now, so it was worthwhile.

“Worthwhile,” you muttered, looking away.

So it seemed Isla really was with DK. A part of you longed to stay angry at Yeji for not sharing it with the house, and part of you still felt insanely guilty for not speaking up after Yeji had told you, and apparently only you, that she was leaving.

It didn’t make sense, much like everything else.

But, if Isla was safe, if Isla was happy… it was worthwhile.

“Hey,” a voice so cheerful called out, to you, you think. Glancing to your left, toward the boys where the voice came from, you find them both looking at you.

Jesus, they were prettier than any of the boys in ATZ.

“You go there?” Chan asked, looking at your crewneck. Following his gaze, rolling your eyes at the big Nasara letters across your chest, you shot him a solemn glare and scoffed.

“Unfortunately,” you said, and he started to smile, the corners of his lips perking up into something that would easily persuade you to your knees. It was lazy, yet so effective. “You?” Even though you knew the answer, you asked anyway.

Chan swallowed his smile and shook his head. “Nah, but my sister does,” he said. His eyes you’ve seen before, he wore them like Yeji wore hers, trying to pierce through your own, trying to see through you. Chan’s were less confronting though, he just seemed like he was trying to figure you out. “She’s in a sorority or something.” The boys sipped their beers and acted like they weren’t honed into you, glancing away when neither was speaking.

“ITZ?” you asked, keeping your voice steady, and Chan nodded.

Minho scrunched his nose. “My sister went through them,” he said, and Chan elbowed his bicep. “What?” he snickered, elbowing him back.

“You make it sound like a bad thing, bro,” Chan said, flickering his eyes to you. “You know it? ITZ?”

Settling your lips into a smile, one that made Chan look away for a second, you nodded. “I know of it.” Turning to Minho, you asked, “Why’s it so bad?”

The boy shrugged. “I dunno, forget I said anything,” he mumbled. “I didn’t go to college, so what do I know?”

“Probably plenty,” you said, gaining his attention back. Shocked, his eyes were wide as he looked at you. “People make college out to be something that’s necessary, but I don't really think it is. If you wanna do it, you do it. If you don’t, who cares?”

Minho shared a snicker with Chan. “My mother,” he sneered, then dropped the smile when he turned back to you. “Excellent perspective for someone who’s able to go to Nasara.”

Chan elbowed his cousin again, this time tossing his hands out to the side. “Dude, my dad went to Nasara, what are you getting at?”

Minho simply smirked, then leaned toward you a bit. His eyes were captivating, galaxy filled. “How is it? ITZ?”

Raising a brow, you asked, “How’d you know I’m a part of them?”

Minho narrowed his eyes. “I do now.” Straightening out where you sat, Hope popped back around and brought you your drink. Giving her a small thank you, you peeked at Minho’s smug face and clenched your jaw. “How is it? A dream, I’m sure.”

Wrapping a hand around your cold glass, you found Chan studying you, every inch. “It’s a dream,” you muttered, taking the straw out of the cup, drinking straight from the glass. 

“Yeah, I’m sure it is,” Minho said.

Chan waved a hand, confused. “Okay, I don’t get it,” he said, making both of you look at him and his twisted brows. “Mina’s having a great time there, what am I missing? Do I need to be worried?” Your stomach flipped. “Last time I spoke to her, she was fine.”

Minho shrugged, sipping his beer, pointing his attention to the TV.

Chan looked to you for help. “I’m not really good at picking subtle shit up, so you’re gonna have to give it to me straight.”

Taking another gulp from your glass, you set it down with a bang and ran your tongue over your teeth. “Listen, Ch-” His name almost tumbled from your lips, right as you realized that he never told you his name. These boys had no idea who you were, and you were to act like you had no idea who they were. “Mina’s your sister?” He nodded, waiting with an unhuman like patience.

You had two options.

Give it to him straight, like he said, which would out his sister, or you could lie to him, and make it seem like ITZ was a dream, when in reality it was a nightmare. With another gulp of your glass, the liquor seemed to decide for you.

No more lies.

“Okay,” you sighed, Minho now watching you, too. “I kinda lied to you both, in a way. I know you. Mina’s my Vice President.” Chan didn’t move. Minho, though, held back a smile. “Last year, when she was a freshman, she was really quiet. Super sweet, but quiet.” Minho shot his cousin a look and received another elbow to the bicep. “Even when this year started, she was so… nice.”

“Now you’re lying,” Chan muttered, breaking his eyes away to sip his beer. “Mina’s not nice.” 

“Chan,” you said steadily, making him look at you with the surprise that you knew his name already. Minho’s smile grew. “No, she’s not. Mina’s not nice.”

“Here we go,” Minho whispered, taking his beer to his full, pink lips. Chan had frozen in place, and though it left you a little uncertain whether or not you should continue, not knowing what would happen, with knowing what you know about this boy…

You kept talking, and it wouldn’t stop.

The words kept coming, the information spewing faster and faster with each gulp of liquor. You left out details they didn’t need to know, details you told Keeho, but they got everything they needed to know. 

Everything Chan needed to know.

And, after many, many minutes of him barely blinking as you told him all about his darling little sister and how she’d been acting, what she’d been a part of, you took a long, deep breath, feeling lighter than ever.

Minho nodded once you had finished, the tiniest smirk gracing his lips, like you had reiterated a story he’d heard plenty of times prior to tonight. He uttered the quietest, “Sounds like Mina.”

But, it wasn’t until Chan’s lips parted, to intake a breath, that you finally felt any sort of pure, euphoric satisfaction. 

“Why would she lie about me?”

The last two weeks caught up to you, you could’ve broken down in tears, absolute joyful tears, but he spoke again, so you kept it together.

“You’re Aurora,” he said quietly, putting his own puzzle pieces together. “I’ve heard your name before. A few times actually. When she’d talk on the phone to her sorority girls, or whatever, and then when that boy would come over.” 

That boy. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” you said with a sheepish shrug.

“She hates you,” Chan said, filterless. 

Rolling your eyes while Minho laughed, you couldn’t help but crack one yourself. “Figures, she’s an accomplice in trying to ruin my life.”

“Aside from the boy thing, I can’t see why she’d try so hard to ruin…” His voice trailed off as he stared at you. “Aurora,” he said, quieter this time. Squishing his brows in the center of his forehead he glances behind you, lifting his chin to peek at where you had come from, back toward Keeho, and your father.

“What?” you questioned, following his line of sight to Keeho and Yeonjun, your dad glancing over at the same time, catching a glimpse of the boys, then quickly turning away. He leaned forward on the table, placing his chin in his hand, hiding part of his face.

“Holy shit,” Chan mumbled. Minho looked back and forth, then landed on you with an unreadable pout of his lips. “That’s your dad, isn’t it?” Gulping, electricity buzzed beneath your skin. Anytime someone brought up your dad, you had to prepare for the worst. 

“Yeah,” you said just above a whisper.

Chan tightened his jaw, then settled his gaze on you. “Do you… know who my parents are? I mean, Mina’s parents? I guess mine work too, but, hers make more sense, you’re dealing with her, but, I mean mine make more sense in this situation, ‘cause my dad kicked your dads ass, and-”

“What?” you gasped.

“Our parents know each other,” he said. “You’ve never heard of this before, have you?”

Sitting forward, leaning toward them, you shake your head wildly and laugh aloud. “Do I look I fucking know any of this?”

Minho averted his eyes to the bar. Chan stacked his arms on top of one another and rested them on the bar.

“I think, if I remember it right, your dad was a real jackass,” he said.

Making a face, you got a laugh out of Minho. “Tell me something I don’t know, Chan.” “My parents, Beomgyu and Faden, and his dad, Taehyun,” he paused, hoping a name would trigger something, but alas, you’ve never heard these names a day in your life. “They were all friends, your dad included. Yeonjun, right?” You answered with a meek nod. “Yeah, they were all really close, like through high school and all that, but one day when they were, like, twenty, your dad was an asshole to my mom, so they wrote him off.”

Taking a minute, processing what he’s told you, that you have more history than you think with these boys, with Mina, you rub your eyes and slide your hands down your cheeks with a groan. “So, she’s doing this to me because my dad was an asshole to your mom? What the hell did he do?”

Chan shrugged. “I wish I could tell you, I didn’t hear any details. I just know the vague version. Mina and our mom are pretty close though, you might be able to get it out of her.”

A harsh laugh came from your chest. “Yeah, okay,” you widened your eyes and shook your head. “That bitch won’t be hearing from me ever again.”

“Hey,” Chan lowered his brows. “That bitch is still my sister.”

With a breath, you asked, “You’re gonna tell her all this aren’t you? That I told you?”

“Probably,” he said immediately, and Minho laughed. “But, as much as she’s my sister, I stand by what I said, Mina’s not nice. And, since she had no problem using my disability for her own gain, I can tell you this, to help you.”

“You wouldn’t,” Minho whispered, the sneaky smile appearing on his lips again.

Chan raised his brows and shot his cousin a smirk. “Oh, I would.” He looked at you. “Plus, you’d find this out anyway if you looked for it yourself, but I could give you a headstart, Choi.” 

“I don’t wanna hurt anyone, Chan,” you said, which was the whole truth. Revenge was cute, but you don’t think you could stomach anymore drama.

“It won’t hurt her, but I know somebody who’s really good at putting her in her place. Our mom can get so wishy-washy with her, ‘cause we’re girls,” he said in a silly voice, pretending to flip his hair, getting you and Minho to laugh, “But, her dad? Soobin? As much as he is wrapped around her finger, yanno, ‘cause that’s his daughter? He doesn’t let her get away with shit.”

Her dad. The tall one with the glasses in that photo from her high school graduation. The one she said reminded her of Yunho.

“Chan, that’s wonderful and all,” you said and he smiled. “But, in no way am I just going to be able to walk into his home and accuse his daughter of being shitty.”

He shared a look with Minho, then said, “He holds a lecture at Nasara every Monday.”

A chill ran down your spine. “You’re lying.”

He shook his head and cracked a laugh. “I’m so serious,” he said. “Every Monday, sometime in the afternoon, on the law side of the school. He has a friend on the board or something, so either way, no matter which one you go to, you’ll get something done.”

Sliding off the stool, a newfound energy in your veins, you grabbed your almost empty glass and smiled. “Thanks.”

Chan shrugged. “She deserves it after what she did. To you and me. Damn.” Your smile went crooked, and he shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. Sorry you had to hear all about my fucked up brain.” Minho gave him a gentle elbow to the bicep as if to tell him the opposite.

“No, I’m sorry,” you said, and he attempted to smile. “You don’t deserve that. Your own sister should be there to support you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed, twisting so he was in line with the bar. He looked away from you and you took that and Minho’s hand planting on his shoulder as a sign to part ways. Your eyes fell to the dog tag around his neck, like they had when they walked in.

Curious, you said, “Your tag,” and he looked over at you, “What’s it for?”

Chan took it between his fingers and held it up. It was covered in writing you couldn’t read from where you stood. “My dad,” he said, reading what was engraved on it. “He got them when he hit ten years of sobriety. It came with two. He gave one to me and my brother.”

You smiled, something soft. “That’s amazing.”

“It is,” Chan breathed, still studying the necklace. Dropping it to his chest, he looked at you. “He’s almost at twenty.” Then, he looked at his beer with only a few sips missing and pushed it away. Minho huffed a laugh and switched their cups, putting his empty one in front of Chan.

“You finished it,” he joked, then drank from his cousin's cup, focusing his eyes on the TV.

“Bye guys,” you said, and Minho gave you a wave with a couple fingers from the hand with the glass in it. 

Chan watched you start to walk away, then shouted your name to make you turn. “I’m sorry, too. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” you said. “Maybe I’ll see you again.”

He worked his face into a questionable smile. “How?”

Gesturing around the building, you shrugged. “I have my ways, Choi.”

october 5th ~ saturday ~ 12:15 a.m.

“He said, answer me, Rory, please, let me explain, I can explain,” Keeho read your messages out loud, laying on your bed with his long legs stretched out along your mattress. Using funny voices for each person, he had you laughing from the floor where you were digging through drawers looking for something to wear to bed since everything was in your drawers over at Nasara.

“I should just block him,” you said, and Keeho threw a fist in the air.

“I second that,” he said. “Let’s do that!”

Nearly breaking your neck to look at him, you threw out a hand. “No!”

The look he gave you made you giggle. “And, why not?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “I wanna see how much he begs.”

Keeho’s eyes widened as he flipped to his stomach on your baby blue comforter. “Aura, you take your men submissive.”

With a huff you turned back to the beige drawers you’ve had since birth. “Not in the slightest.” It was give and take for you, unless you were with Seonghwa apparently, and mother of god, you’re lucky he didn’t ruin you for life.

Your beaten up white wooden door creaked open and Yeonjun poked his head inside. He glanced from Keeho on your bed pushed in the corner, to you on the floor a few feet away from him. The ceiling fan spun on a low speed, making the yellow light from the old bulbs flash in a way that would keep you busy as a baby as your dad would say. 

“Yes?” you questioned, and he popped a smile on his face.

“You staying?” he asked Keeho.

“I think so,” he mumbled, looking up from your phone only once. “We’ve got a lot to work through here.”

“Okay,” Yeonjun said, making a face to signify his understanding, letting Keeho get back to your messages. Looking back at you he said, “No funny business in here.”

“Dad, it’s Keeho, he sleeps here all the time,” you deadpanned, and he laughed.

“I know, I know,” he said, stepping into the room for a moment. “Had to tease, I miss having you guys here.”

“I second that,” Keeho said, his tone flat, though you know he meant it with all of his being. Yeonjun glanced at him and laughed to himself. The boy didn’t even look up from your phone.

“Goodnight,” he said, then smiled at you. “I love you.”

A comfort washed over you. “I love you, too.” He went to pull the door shut, stepping out into the hall, but then you called him back. “Dad?”

“Yes, Aura,” he said, looking down at you.

Swallowing, suddenly feeling like your throat had closed and you wouldn’t be able to get the words out, you whispered, “Did you know those boys at the bar? Chan and Minho?” He was silent. Thinking. “Do you know who Beomgyu is?” A breath corrupted his lungs. “Taehyun?” Blinking a mile a minute, he averted his eyes to your carpeted floor. “Faden?”

It took him a second, but he managed to say, “Yes, I did. I knew them. Not the boys at the bar, but I assumed they… belonged to some of them, the names you said. They look just like them.” You wondered if it were true for you too, if you looked anything like your father. Or, your mother.

“Mina,” you said, and he looked at you, his eyes now wider than they normally would be. “She’s Faden’s daughter. Faden and Soobin’s daughter.” “Soobin,” he whispered. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

“When’s the last time you saw any of them?”

He stuttered a bit before he said, “It’s been a really long time, Aura.” Things went quiet for a second, then he asked, “The boys tonight, who do they belong to?”

“Chan, the one with dark hair, he’s Beomgyu and Faden’s son. He’s a twin,” you said, and Yeonjun tipped his chin upward, his lips curling into some type of smile, like he knew something you didn’t, and shouldn’t know. “Minho, the other one, some guy Taehyun is his dad.”

Your father met your eyes with a fierceness. “Who’s his mom?” he asked, and when you shrugged he laughed aloud.

“Holy shit,” he sighed, taking a long breath after his laughter subsided. “Those motherfuckers.” Letting him mumble to himself, you gave him another goodnight as he circled around and went to pull your door shut. “Those crazy ass motherfuckers.”

“Aura,” Keeho said, wanting your attention. Pulling sweatpants from high school out of your drawer, you stood up and took two steps to your bed, dropping the pants on Keeho’s lap. There was little space to put them elsewhere. “Who is ‘ignore this jerk’?”

Shimmying out of your jeans, you breathe through a laugh and jump into the sweats you brought over. “Wooyoung, why?” Reaching up a hand to pull on the string hanging from the light on your ceiling, the room falls dark. Climbing over Keeho, wedging yourself between him and the wall you pop your chin on his chest to look at your phone with him. “Guess I should change his name now, huh?”

“He said, and I quote, ‘hi’,” Keeho said, then gave you a funny look. Snatching the phone from him you groaned and started typing back to him. “Who says hi anymore? Who does he think he is?”

“We’ve been talking, Kee, since Saturday night,” you mumbled and Keeho flipped to his side dramatically, facing you. Tucking his hands beneath his cheek on your pillows he exhaled heavily.

“Enlighten me,” he said.

“There’s nothing,” you said, shrugging with your hands, the light from your phone screen bouncing off his sharp features. “We just check in on each other. I’ve seen him in passing. Nothing more. He’s been living with his cousin in Delo, I think.”

[ignore this jerk]: hi

[you]: hi

[ignore this jerk]: how was your day

[you]: it was alright, had something interesting happen, how was yours

[ignore this jerk]: same here, had something interesting happen

[ignore this jerk]: you go first

[you]: it’s a lot, are you sure

[ignore this jerk]: …

The bubbles vanished as quickly as they’d popped up. Then, ‘Incoming Call: ignore this jerk’ was lighting up your phone screen. Keeho almost screeched.

“Answer it, answer it, answer it.” He said it about seventy more times.

“I’m in bed,” you sneered.

Keeho rolled his eyes, “Yeah, with me, answer it.“

“No! I will not do this to myself right now, I can’t handle anymore-“

Keeho took it upon himself to slide his finger over the green answer button, cutting you right off. Your heart lodged up into your throat as Wooyoung appeared on the screen, lit up by warm, dim light. He wasn’t looking when you appeared, his side profile on display. His nose on display. Tanned skin, dark hair in waves exposing his forehead, he wore a black cutoff tee and silver studs in his ears.

“Oh my god,” Keeho muttered out of sheer gay panic. Slapping a hand over his mouth, Wooyoung turned to his phone and gave you a small smile. 

“Who was that?” he asked, walking himself around whatever room he was in. Glaring at Keeho, you turned the phone to put your friend in the little box, and Wooyoung laughed. “Am I interrupting something?”

“God, no,” you said, and Keeho let out his own laugh. “This is Keeho, he lives down the street. We’ve known each other since we were eleven.” 

“That’s cool,” Wooyoung said, looking at the screen, finally finding a spot to settle. “Hi, Keeho.” Your friend uttered the smallest hi, and you wanted to lose your shit. Who says hi anymore? “So, you’re home, then?”

“I am,” you said. “I haven’t been in the house since Sunday.”

Wooyoung popped his brows. “What’s Tori have to say about that?”

“No idea,” you mumbled. “Keeho’s been reading through my messages I haven’t opened all week. We haven’t gotten to Tori’s yet.”

“I’m sure it’ll be crazy when you do,” Wooyoung pushed his lips to the side.

You didn’t even want to think about it. “What’s so interesting that happened to you today?” Changing the subject, Wooyoung didn’t seem to care. He glanced up and around the space he was in, and smiled.

“I, uh, got an apartment,” he said, smiling at you.

“Holy shit?” you gasped, sitting up, leaving Keeho behind on your pillows. Pushing your hair from your face, you twisted so you could place your back against the dark blue wall. “Where at? Delo?”

Wooyoung nodded, looking around the room. “Yeah,” he said, proud as ever. “It’s ten minutes from school, a few blocks from my cousin. He helped me find it, we’ve been looking for a day or so, and this place just fell into my lap. He says I got lucky.” The smile that couldn’t leave his lips was triggering your own.

“You got lucky,” you said. “I’m happy for you, that’s really great. You deserve it after what’s happened.”

“Thanks, Ro,” he said. “You should come see it. I kinda wanna talk to you anyways. Just you.” Shifting your gaze to Keeho, he placed a hand playfully beneath his chin and smirked.

“I think we definitely need to talk,” you said, looking at the screen, trying to ease the way your heart was beating. “Sort this mess out.”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

It was quiet for a few seconds, you and Wooyoung just gazing at one another through the phone screen until Keeho tapped his foot to your thigh, pulling you from your thoughtless daydream.

“I, uh, I gathered some, um, interesting information tonight,” you said, and Wooyoung adjusted himself in his seat like he pulled himself out of the same thoughtless daze at the sound of your voice.

“Yeah?” he questioned, glancing away for a moment. “Like what?”

You told him what you found out through Chan. Really, you rambled, the buzz still evident in your body, and it was like he could tell with the way he giggled at some of the things you would say, or the words you would use. You spilled it all, and by the end of it all, he was leaning into the screen, his eyes unable to look elsewhere.

“Keeho, you were here for all of this?” Wooyoung asked.

Turning the phone to show your friend, he shot the phone a thumbs up and Wooyoung sighed. “Don’t believe me, Wooyo?” You turned the phone back to your face and found him surprised. “What?”

“You… Uh, I haven’t heard you say that in a long time, that’s all,” he said, his volume dropping astronomically. You couldn’t remember the last time you called him that, the nickname rolled off your tongue with such ease you didn’t even see it coming yourself. “So, what are we gonna do? We gonna go talk to this Soobin dude, or what?”

“Do it!” Keeho shouted, making you and Wooyoung laugh.

“Ro?” Wooyoung asked, one of his brows perking up.

Glancing between Keeho and your phone, you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Let’s do it.”

october 7th ~ monday ~ 8:03 a.m.

It happened like a movie, like the rest of your life had been apparently. One shoe on, you hopped on one foot toward the front door slipping the other on your foot, almost tripping and face planting onto the floor. He texted you that he was here, waiting outside in a car you’ve been in only a few times before when he’d driven you around for a date here or there. You weren’t sure why you were nervous, or why the feeling was so large within you.

It was Wooyoung. You’ve done this before. He wasn’t anything to you at the moment, if anything, he was a friend. Or, trying to be, you think.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder you grabbed onto the doorknob to the front door and yanked it open, spotting him down by the curb in the blacked out BMW.  All four windows were tinted, you couldn’t see him in the driver's seat which only worsened the feeling in your gut. You felt like a teenager getting a ride from her high school crush, it was somewhat humiliating.

Even more so when your dad appeared around the corner by the kitchen.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take you?” he asked, leaning against the edge of the wall where the kitchen met the hallway to the bedrooms. Turning toward him, you smushed your lips together and let out a sigh.

“I’m sure,” you whispered. “We’re going to go talk to Soobin today.”

Yeonjun curled his lip, pushing himself off the wall. Taking slow strides toward you, he folded his arms over his chest. “Enjoy him. Last I heard of him he’s a stuck up son of a bitch.”

You wanted to laugh, and you did a bit, but you frowned. “Dad, you don’t know him, don’t talk about him like that.”

Yeonjun furrowed his brows, looking you up and down. “His daughter is terrorizing my daughter.” He narrowed his eyes. “My very smart daughter who doesn’t let anybody treat her like this.”

With a breath, you said, “That’s why we’re going to talk to him.”

Darting his eyes to the glass door behind you, eyes gobbling up the BMW, Yeonjun looked back at you. “That’s Wooyoung? The guy who started this entire thing?”

“He didn’t start it,” you said. “Well, I mean, he kinda did, but he didn’t mean to. Yunho, remember?”

Yeonjun twisted his brows and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t keep track, Aura, what did I say about getting involved with the boys?”

Breathing through a laugh, you groaned soon after. “It’s over, all of it, I promise. No more boys.” Dropping his hands, he gave you a curious look, glanced to the car once more, then smirked.

“Sure,” he said. “Be careful.”

“I will,” you nodded. “We will.” Turning toward the door, you looked back over your shoulder at his smile. “Don’t get arrested again.”

“Aura!” he shouted while you laughed, following you out of the front door and onto the porch. “That was one time! You were ten!”

Walking down the lawn backwards, you held out your arms and grinned. “One time too many!”

Swatting your words away with his hand, he watched you as you spun around and yanked on the door handle, pulling the door open to the leather interior and a boy sitting in the driver's seat, waiting for you with a small smile. Looking past you, to your dad on the porch, Wooyoung held up a hand to wave, and thankfully, thankfully, Yeonjun gave him one back.

Saying your last goodbye, you pulled the door shut and sank down into your seat, feeling entirely out of place in the incredibly neat car. It smelled like cherries, and every crevice of the dash was sparkling. You knew the boy driving would look even better, you felt too nervous to even sneak a peek at him.

“What’s the matter?” he asked with a small laugh.

“Nothing,” you breathed. Your dad took himself back inside, leaving the two of you to go off on your endeavors. “I think I feel nervous to do this.”

Wooyoung settled his lips into a smile and faced the steering wheel, grasping the shifter with his right hand. “You’re allowed to be nervous. This stuff is wild.”

Pulling out of your neighborhood, one he’s definitely not used to though he wouldn’t show it, he took you out onto the main road and started for Nasara. From the southside of Tamoe to Delo, it took about an hour, and then once you were into Delo it took another half hour to get onto campus. Settling back in your seat, getting yourself comfortable, your lungs tighten in your chest at the realization that you were going to be stuck here with him for an hour and a half. The longest you’d have spent with him, sober, since last semester.

As if he could hear your thoughts, he looked over at you. “Ro, what’s up?”

Rubbing your hands over your thighs, you took a breath and shrugged, keeping your focus forward. “Nothing, just thinking about what I’m gonna tell him.”

Wooyoung curved his brows upward, focusing back on the road. When it got quiet, it was suffocating. He was here next to you. He drove an hour or so to your house, to pick you up, to bring you to school when your dad could’ve done it for you. The last time you’d seen him in person, maybe Thursday, in passing while walking to a business lecture where he told you he’d been passing you every Thursday since the semester started, you just never noticed. You’ve never had so much time to say so much, and it was overwhelming.

“Ro,” Wooyoung said again after a minute or so of silence aside from the radio.

“Fine,” you gritted your teeth and twisted in your seat, pulling your legs up onto the leather seat, fighting with the seatbelt in the process. Adjusting accordingly, frustratingly so, you tossed your hair backward once you were situated and groaned, finally looking at him and his amused little smile.

“Better?” he questioned with a subtle laugh.

Expressing your annoyance with an audible sigh, you clasped your hands together and placed them in your lap. “You want me to go off? I’ll go off.” With both hands, you shoved his shoulder and he gasped, grasping the wheel with both hands. “Fuck you. I cannot fucking believe that you’d do that to me. Do you know how embarrassing it was? Me and Tori walking into that bedroom to that?!” He shot you a confused look, bracing himself for impact again as he slowed at a red light.

“You and Yeji? After everything we shared all year, this is how you treat me? Sleeping with her? For what, Wooyoung, for what!” He hid his smile amidst your shouts, catching on quickly. Keeping quiet, he let you go off. “You piece of shit, you know everyone warned me, right? I should’ve fucking listened, that Jung Wooyoung doesn’t have a loyal bone in his body. I didn’t believe them, but guess who fucking does now?” 

Taking a breath, a laugh threatened to sneak through, and it almost did. It wasn’t until Wooyoung laughed first that yours boiled over and you lost it. Leaning against the seat, covering your face with your hands, you let out a sound of relief and looked up at him, baring his teeth, his laugh echoing within the tight space.

“How- How long have you been waiting to say that?” Catching his breath, he calmed himself the best he could as the traffic in front of him pulled away.

“Too long,” you said, shaking your head. “Months. Can you tell I had it rehearsed?” Wooyoung laughed again, loud, bobbing his head. “You really hurt me, yanno?”

He looked at you for as long as could while he drove, his smile wiping away in an instant. “I know,” he said. “And, I’m sorry. I’ll always be sorry, I don’t even know what to do to fix it all, but I promise you I’m gonna try.”

Glancing at the road, then finally allowing yourself to take in his appearance, the boy dripping in black and silver, you solemnly smiled. “Last Saturday was a huge help.” 

He huffed, shaking his head. “You can’t forgive me that fast, Ro. It was all so shitty, who the fuck does something like that?”

“Somebody who’s also hurting,” you said just above a whisper, shutting him up. He pulled his lips between his teeth and attempted to hide his sigh, but it was heard. “I’m sorry. You deserved better.”

“Whoa,” he said, screwing his face up. “No, don’t say that, are you kidding?” He met your eyes, another red light. The power within him was staggering. “I had the best. You understand that?” The small shake of your head could’ve physically pained him. “God, I could kill them all,” he muttered, facing the road to move with the other cars. “Ro, don’t let them make you feel like that. You used to be so carefree, you couldn’t give two shits about what someone said about you.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

Wooyoung glanced at you, his eyes pointed. “It’s you. That’s what made me fall for you in the first place, are you kidding? You’re so different from any of those girls in that house.”

“I’m not like other girls,” you said, and his laugh made you laugh.

“You know what I mean,” he said.

Letting your eyes drag over his body, you said, “I don’t think I do. We never talked like this.”

“That’s the problem,” Wooyoung snapped a finger and let it fall onto the shifter. “We never talked like this, no one there does, we were doing what everyone else was doing, we were following a socially constructed system that does nothing for true connection.” Your silence made him look at you, and when he found your parted, surprised lips he smiled.

“You are smart,” you joked, and he shrugged, smug. “I knew you were smart, I hope you know that.”

“I do know,” he whispered, giving you a look.

“You sociology major, you,” you whispered back, smiling. He shared it with you for a second only.

“Ugh,” he groaned, looking at the road. “That’s also why I feel all the more shitty for doing what I did, because I knew what it would do to your brain, scientifically. And, I feel even worse for standing by, watching it happen. I could’ve ended it all so much faster, but I had faith that you’d figure it out, but it only got worse each time I saw you.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to laugh. “Yeah, I fell into Seonghwa.”

Wooyoung tried to laugh with you. “Shoulda stepped in then, that’s how you know it’s going downhill.” Reaching out a hand, you put it over his where he worked the shifter, changing gears as he drove through Soro now. His breath hitched in his chest at your touch. “Ro, I know I said something Saturday night, but you were drunk, and I don’t know how much of that night you fully processed.”

Dragging your thumb over his olive skin, you felt the corner of your lips prick up. “That I may have gotten over you, but you’re not over me?” He released a breath like he’d been holding it in since you sat down. “Wooyo,” you whispered, and he turned his chin quickly, his eyes full of hope. “I’m not over you.”

His hand beneath yours flipped over, his fingers lacing between yours as he took the slowest deep breath. The car came to a stop and he laid his head back on his seat, closing his eyes for a few seconds. 

“I feel so silly,” he whispered. Giggling, he opened his eyes to shoot you a glare. “Don’t laugh at me.” Holding up your hand he was holding, you smiled behind your hands and got him to laugh. “You did this to me, I have never felt this, ever.”

“Like a teenager?” you offered, and his eyes went wide.

“Yes!” he shouted, throwing his head back with a groan. “Since I first saw you, Ro. When we were at the recruitment dinner, three years ago. We were freshmen.” He moved your hands toward you, “You were a pretty freshman,” he moved your hands toward himself, “I was a horny freshman.” Your giggle made him smirk. “We were at ATZ, somehow, and the moment I saw you in the group I just… You know which way my brain went first.”

“Of course,” you whispered, dancing your thumb over his skin. “I can tell you I was thinking the same things.”

He gave you that wide eyed look. “You were a horny freshman, too?!”

You laughed together. “‘Course I was, Wooyo, we were eighteen years old and let loose in a house full of boys like yourself, what do you think we’d be thinking about?”

Thinking to himself, he shrugged. “I dunno, innocent things, I guess.”

“Oh, honey,” you cooed, grinning wide. “What Tori and Mingi did that night was far from innocent.” The mention of your best friend pulled at your heart.

“I know, I know,” Wooyoung brushed it off. “That entire year though, I couldn’t figure it out. Girls don’t make me nervous, they make me the opposite, actually.”

“We know,” you whispered, and he tried to wiggle his fingers out of yours, but you held him captive. 

“You,” he said through his teeth. “You scared me.” He glanced at you and cringed. “Still kinda do.” This time you did get your hand free, and you shoved him like you did that first time. “Stop! I’m on the road, Ro!” You both laughed. Taking your hands back to yourself, he placed his over the shifter and sighed. “Want me to pull over? Then you can beat me to your heart's content?”

“I wouldn’t ever do that,” you said, touching his hand again. “Keep talking.”

“It was easy to be your friend at first. You already knew Yunho and Seonghwa, so that made it easier to approach you, when you were already talking to them, or hanging around them. I had a buffer, I could bounce off of them.”

“And you bounced,” you scoffed, and a cocky look spread about his face. “Do you know how crazy you would act? Freshman year? Even into our sophomore year, until we were a thing?”

“It’s ‘cause I liked you,” he said, nodding. “I wanted to impress you, I guess. Wanted your attention.” 

“Well, it worked.”

“It did,” he said. “For a little bit.” Your lips formed a pout, one he took his fingers to to mess it up, to make it go away. “Stop,” he whispered. “You didn’t even know.”

“That’s the thing, Wooyoung,” you said. “How did I not know? How did I not see… any of it. You, him, anything?”

The car came to a stop and he faced you. His hand slipped over your cheek, his thumb dragging along your cheekbone. “Socially constructed system. You were wound up in the fun of it all, you weren’t really paying attention, and that’s okay. I, unfortunately, have been blessed with a very emotionally intelligent mother, so I can… see it all. I’m aware.”

Your throat tightened. Begging yourself not to cry, not now, you gulped it away and asked, “How the hell do you have the reputation that you do?”

Blinking, he studied your face. “People see what they want to see. Look at San,” you both giggled, “Worlds biggest slut, and he knows it, but what do people see? The, probably hundreds now, body count? Or, the big, adorable, ditzy baby that is San?” He was right.

“I see the slut,” you whispered, and he smirked. “But, I get it, I also see the ditzy baby.”

You both realized he was touching you at the same time. Intaking a breath, you froze, and so did he. His fingers, soft, gentle on your skin, came to a stop. The air around you caved in, everything about this moment becoming so increasingly overwhelming, and heavy, like there was only one thing to do to get rid of that awful itch beneath your skin whenever he looked at you. You knew he could feel it too, you could see it in the way he clenched his jaw. God, you could jump on him, and you wanted to, and you knew he wanted you to.

A car behind you honked, pulling you both from that, now one thought, daze. Jumping a mile, you both twisted forward, Wooyoung moving along with the traffic around you. It took a couple seconds, but you both started to laugh.

After a few minutes of regaining your composures, Wooyoung asked, “Do you still believe them?”

Turning your chin, you looked at him and raised a brow. “What?”

“That I’m a piece of shit who doesn’t have a loyal bone in his body,” he whispered. “You said you believed them, then, I mean. What about now?” He gave you that hopeful look. “Do you still believe them?”

Reaching a hand over to mess with a few of his waves, smiling at the way it affected him, you toyed with his hoop earrings and shook your head. “I don’t,” you whispered, and his smile warmed your heart. “I believe you, I think, for now. Which is scaring me, just ‘cause of all that’s happened. So, please?”

He tilted his head. “Please?”

“Please be telling the truth.”

Taking your hand in his, he pressed his lips to the back of yours before he started to drive, whispering over your skin, “I promise.”

NU home ✧ nice for what masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[sluttywonwoo]

too close (i might just burn you whole) || c.hv

summary: you’ve got your crush on your friend vernon under control… that is until he shows up for a costume party dressed like your favorite superhero

pairing: vernon x fem reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ ; mdni) additional warnings under the cut

word count: 8.6k

a/n: a late birthday present for @fuckvernon <3

additional warnings: fingering, fat cock!vernon, unintentional cockwarming, praise, dacyrphilia, kink discovery, m + f orgasms, implied round two so no aftercare (but it does happen off the page)

“Are you going to tell her tonight?”

Vernon cocks his head to the side and takes a sip of his beer, feigning disinterest. “Who?”

“You’re looking right at her.”

“What am I going to tell her?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

Vernon finally yanks his gaze away from you to glare at Joshua, who had taken the barstool beside him. 

“Haven’t we been over this?”

“We have, and we’ll keep going over it until you come to your senses.”

“There are no senses to come to,” Vernon argues. “I don’t want-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit about not ruining your friendship with her.”

“I don’t!”

“You really think she’s the kind of person that’ll stop being friends with someone just because she doesn’t return their feelings?”

“Well, no,” Vernon admits. “But it will definitely change our dynamic.”

Joshua rolls his eyes. “You’re just using that as an excuse to be a coward.”

Vernon clenches his jaw and brings the bottle to his lips again. “I don’t feel like talking about this right now.”

“I can tell,” Joshua mutters.

Chan joins them at the bar a moment later and orders a lemon drop. 

“What’d he say?” he asks Joshua. 

“That he’s a pussy,” Shua answers. 

“Did you tell everyone about this?” Vernon cries, cringing at the whine he hears in his voice. 

“No one had to tell me,” Chan corrects him. “You’re super obvious about it.”

“Who else knows?”

“Who doesn’t?” Joshua and Chan say in unison. 

Vernon groans and drops his head to the bartop. 

“Don’t worry, no one’s going to say anything to her.”

“They might, if you don’t man up and tell her yourself,” Joshua amends.

“He’s kidding.”

“I’m not.”

Chan chuckles nervously and gives Vernon a reassuring pat on the back. 

“If you don’t tell her tonight you should at least tell her at Soonyoung’s party.”

“I’m not telling her, period! I’m good with being friends, you guys.”

They side-eye each other. 

“So you’re good with her dating other people?”

Vernon lifts his head again. “What?”

“I mean if you’re not going to ask her out, someone else is going to,” Joshua points out, holding his hands up in surrender when Vernon glares at him. “I’m not saying that to be an asshole! I’m saying it because...” he trails off, looking at Chan who unsubtly signals Joshua to stop talking. 

“What? What is it?”

“Well, because we heard Kun is going to ask her out at Soonyoung’s party on Friday.”

“Qian Kun?”

Chan nods hesitantly. “But it’s not like it’s a sure thing! It’s just a rumor, after all.”

“It’s a sure thing,” Joshua counters. “I overheard him talking to Minghao about it.”

“We don’t know if she’ll say yes, though,” Chan offers, desperately trying to keep his friend from spiraling. 

“That’s true,” Joshua agrees. Finally. “He’s a good-looking guy, though.”

“Joshua!”

“What? It’s the truth!”

 “Can I have a word with you over here?”

They shuffle over to the side, leaving Vernon to sulk as they bicker. He can vaguely hear Joshua muttering but he tunes out the words, not needing to hear any more about your potential prospects and his lack thereof. 

The thing is, Vernon could have plenty of said potential prospects if he put himself out there. But unfortunately, he only has eyes for you. And he’s a coward. 

He hadn’t always had feelings for you, that he was aware of. You were Seungkwan’s friend first. He introduced you to the group later and you’d fit right in. Seungkwan wasn’t surprised but he was a bit protective over you, constantly reminding everyone that you were his first. That didn’t bother Vernon- until it did. 

 He knew Seungkwan was mostly joking but after a while, he assumed you’d been a part of the group for long enough that you were everyone’s friend. The hierarchy of who knew you best or longest shouldn’t matter. Unless Vernon was at the top of it. 

These thoughts never even occurred to Vernon until he started hanging out with you one-on-one. You were always fun to have around but he hadn’t realized just how much he liked spending time with you. You were funny, you liked a lot of the same things he liked, you were pretty— that wasn’t a thought you should be having about a friend. God damn it. God damn it.

That’s when he knew he was fucked. He tried to deny it to himself. He didn’t have feelings for you. That would be ridiculous. He was just confused.

He assumed it would pass. He tried to avoid you, only seeing you at group events. That didn’t last long. 

You managed to corner him at a brunch thing and confronted him about why he had been ignoring you. He made up some excuse about how he’s been busy lately, lying straight to your face as he told you he hadn’t been ignoring you. 

Vernon had learned to live with his feelings, peksy as they were. He just suppressed them. The healthy thing to do. 

But now he was forced to make a choice. He had to either tell you how he felt and potentially ruin your friendship, or let someone else beat him to it. 

-

“We can get ready together at my place around four and then pregame a little bit,” you suggest, your voice sounding muffled through the speaker. 

Vernon’s got his phone balanced between his ear and his shoulder which makes it even harder to hear you. He’s trying to straighten up his and Seokmin’s apartment before some of the guys come over for DND but it isn’t going very well. He can’t figure out where Seokmin put the fucking Swiffer Wet Jet. 

“Who else is going to be there?” he asks. 

“Oh, just the two of us.”

He freezes. “What? Why?”

“Everyone else is pregaming at Mingyu’s,” you explain, and suddenly it all makes sense. “We’ll be so late if we try to get ready there. There’ll be too much going on.”

“You’re right,” Vernon agrees. “That’s a good idea.”

“Are you sure? You can go with them if you want.”

“No!” he exclaims, maybe a little too quickly. “No, um, I’d rather do what you said.”

“Okay!” 

He hates that he can hear the smile in your voice, hates that he can picture the exact scrunch of your nose and crinkle of your eyes, hates that he knows just how cute you look right now. 

“I know I said four, but you can come over whenever,” you continue. “And we can listen to our music while we get ready. No one else has good taste like we do.”

“Mingyu’s probably going to play trap remixes of Disney songs the whole night,” Vernon sighs.

“Either that or Justin Bieber’s entire discography,” you laugh. 

“Yeah, we’re definitely making the right choice.”

-

Friday rolls around way too fast. Vernon spent the whole week panicking over what to say to you and he still hasn’t decided. He doesn’t even know if he’ll work up the courage to tell you at all, even if Kun is going to ask you out. Sure, he’ll beat himself up forever if that happens, but at least he’d save himself the embarrassment of rejection. 

He shows up to your apartment in his street clothes, having packed his outfit for tonight in his backpack. 

You answer the door with your makeup half-done, ushering him in before any of your neighbors could see you in your pajamas. 

The door to your bedroom is open, faint music spilling out into the foyer. 

“My roommate’s out,” you explain as he follows you inside. “She’s flying home to visit her parents so we have the place to ourselves.”

For some reason, Vernon’s heart skips a beat when you say that. You don’t mean it like that but his mind goes there automatically and he has to clear his throat awkwardly to shake the thought. 

You lead him to your room and tell him he can sit on the bed while you finish your makeup, and he does so very gingerly. It’s not like he’s never been in your room or sat on your bed before so there’s no reason for him to be acting so weird (aside from the big fat crush he’s had on you for months). He hopes you don’t notice his strange behavior. Or if you do, he hopes you chalk it up to him just being Vernon. 

“I was listening to our combined playlist but you can change it to whatever you want,” you offer, throwing him your phone. 

It lands next to him on the mattress. 

“No, this is good,” he says but picks up your phone anyway. “Can I scroll through your Twitter, though?”

“Go ahead.”

He makes a noise of contentment and settles more comfortably on your bed. He grabs your stuffed Appa and holds it close to his chest as he scrolls down your timeline, humming along to the song that’s playing on your PC.

You’re silent as you apply the rest of your makeup. Vernon doesn’t know the first thing about makeup but he knows that you’re good at it. You always look so pretty. One time you had made your eyeliner look like the wings of a monarch butterfly. He remembers being so transfixed by your eyes that you had to keep asking why he was staring. 

Today, your eyeliner looks like little clouds to go with your angel outfit. You’d done it in white with a touch of glitter to make them shimmer. 

“I can’t believe Soonyoung picked a costume party,” you grumble. 

“I can. How much do you want to bet he’s going to be Tony the Tiger again?”

“You never know, maybe he’ll be Raja from Aladdin. Or that tiger from The Jungle Book? I don’t remember that one’s name, though.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Vernon muses, not looking up from your phone. 

“I guess we will.”

He’s reading the replies to a tweet about one of your favorite animes when you get a text. He’d ignored all of the other notifications you’d received while he was in control of your phone thus far but it’s impossible to ignore this one. 

Qian Kun: can’t wait to see u tn!

Vernon nearly chokes, knuckles turning white as he grips the phone tighter. 

So Joshua hadn’t been fucking with him. He hadn’t just used Kun as an excuse to kick Vernon’s ass into gear. He was actually serious and was trying to help him. Go figure. 

Vernon stands from your bed abruptly, drawing your attention to him. 

“You got a text,” is all he can mutter as he thrusts your phone out to you. You give him a weird look as you take it but before you can say anything about it he’s grabbing his backpack and telling you that he’s going to go change. 

“O-okay.” 

He makes his way to your bathroom and shuts the door behind him, slumping against it as he tells himsef to get it together. He splashes some cold water on his face and runs a still-wet hand through his hair in an attempt to style it. The water does little to cool him down but he starts taking off his clothes anyway. If he’s gone for too long you’ll begin to wonder if something’s wrong but he’s still sweating and his costume is made entirely out of spandex. 

He manages to wrestle the material onto his body and get the zipper up. He takes another look at himself in the mirror and grimaces. It didn’t look bad on him, but it was defintely tight and left little to the imagination.

And now he had to go back out and face you like this. Tonight was already going so well. 

You’re not in your room when he comes out of the bathroom. He searches the hallway briefly before finding you in the kitchen. You’re bent over with your head in the fridge, looking for... something, but all Vernon can focus on is the way your legs look in the white tights you’re wearing. He averts his eyes as soon as he catches himself staring at your calves, cheeks burning with what can only be a mixture of shame and embarrassment.  

“Do you need help?” he asks, startling you.  

You jolt up, nearly bumping your head on the freezer door. 

“Sorry,” he apologizes sheepishly. 

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Can’t help it, it’s part of my spidey powers.”

Your eyes light up in recognition as soon as he says that. He tries not to feel too self-conscious as your eyes take in his costume, your gaze traveling down his body and then back up to his face. 

“Your costume!”

“Do you like it?” 

“I love it!” you exclaim, taking him by the shoulders. “I can’t believe you kept this a secret from me!” You know how much I love Peter Parker!”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Vernon mumbles, trying to hide a smile. 

“God, you look incredible! Do you have the mask?”

“I do, should I wear it?”

“Keep it off,” you decide. “Your face is too pretty to be hidden.”

“Wh-what?” 

“You heard me,” you double down, smirking. 

You’re teasing him, but Vernon can’t tell if it’s in a flirty way or a joking way. He hopes it’s the first way but he’s also too scared to confront what that would mean if it was. 

“Maybe you can put it on for the group picture or something, but you should leave it off for the party, that way people can find you.”

“Good idea,” Vernon agrees. “So, what were you looking for?”

You seem to remember you’re still standing in the middle of your kitchen with your refrigerator open at that very moment.

“Oh, right. I was looking for stuff for us to drink before we go over to Soonyoung’s but I couldn’t find what I wanted. I bought strawberry soju for us tonight but my friend’s boyfriend drank it all so we only have regular.” 

Vernon knits his eyesbrows together in confusion. “Joshua drank all your soju?”

“No, different friend. You don’t know her. I would’ve just said Joshua drank all my soju’ if it was him.”

“Yeah, that makes more sense.”

“I thought I had lemonade we could use as a mixer but I can’t find it.”

“We can just do shots,” Vernon suggests, laughing when you make a face. “Fine, fine, here let me help.”

You trade places with him and watch as he looks through the same shelves you had just been looking through. He is also unable to find the lemonade.

“You have gingerale,” he points out.

“Do you think that would be good?”

“Only one way to find out.”

-

It was, in fact, not good. But you powered through it together, neither of you willing to show up to Soonyoung’s sober. 

“I’ll call an Uber,” you shout from you room where you had gone to grab your purse. “By the way, do you want me to do any makeup on you real quick? I think some dark circles under your eyes or some black eyeliner would look really good.”

“Sure,” Vernon agrees before really thinking about it. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

That’s how you end up straddling him on your bed, your face mere inches from his as you apply... eyeliner? Eyeshadow? Some sort of makeup to his eyes. 

Vernon holds his breath, putting every ounce of concentration he has into not getting hard. You’re sitting right on top of him and as previously established, the Spider-Man suit is very, very thin. 

Your costume doesn’t offer a lot of coverage either, something Vernon tries not to think about while you’ve got your thighs on either side of his waist. You’re warm, so warm. He can feel the heat of your skin through your tights, can feel the seam of your leotard underneath your tutu, and if he shifts even just a little bit he’d be able to feel-

“There, done!” you announce and climb off of him. 

Vernon breathes a sigh of relief and takes a moment to recover before sitting back up. He’s a little stiff, both in body and in spirit, but he hopes you didn’t notice. 

“Hey, the Uber’s here, but take a look at yourself first to make sure you like it.”

You hand him a compact mirror and wait patiently as Vernon checks out your handiwork. You didn’t do much but it had made a big difference. He looks exhausted. His eyes appear sunken, the dark circles you’d drawn underneath somehow making them look sharper. 

“Oh my god, I look just like him,” he whispers. 

“Right? I thought that would tie it all together! Very Peter Parker-esque.”

“You’re incredible, thank you.”

You laugh and stare down at the floor, seeming shy all of a sudden. “It was easy. Anyone could have done it.”

Then, your phone vibrates on your desk. You grab it immediately like you’re thankful for the interruption. Vernon purses his lips but tries not to come off as deflated. 

“Shit, we shouldn’t keep him waiting,” you say. 

“You’re right. Let’s go.”

You sling the strap of your purse over your shoulder and make for the front door but Vernon calls out after you before you can reach it. 

“Wait! Don’t forget your halo, angel.”

He grabs the headband off of your dresser and brings it to you, smiling to himself when you bend down automatically so that he can put it on for you. 

“Okay, now we’re ready,” he amends. 

-

The drive to Soonyoung and Jihoon’s apartment doesn’t usually take long but your Uber got lost on the way so you were a few minutes late. Thankfully, you weren’t the last to arrive. That honor went to Boo Seungkwan and Yoon Jeonghan who trailed in together a whole thirty minutes after you and Vernon, much to Soonyoung’s displeasure. 

He greets you at the door with Jihoon in tow, clearly already drunk. 

“You made it!” he screeches, throwing his arms around the two of you. 

“Of course we made it, idiot,” you tease, pushing his shoulder playfully. 

Vernon pretends not to notice and he also pretends it doesn’t bother him.

“Who are you supposed to be, Soonie?” you ask.

“Tony the Tiger,” he says, sounding a little offended that you didn’t guess right away. 

“Again?”

“You can’t go wrong with a classic,” Soonyoung mutters. “Right, Jihoon?”

“Right,” his best friend parrots obediently, rolling his eyes behind his back. 

“Wait, what are you supposed to be?” Vernon asks, directing the question at Jihoon this time. 

“I’m the box of Frosted Flakes,” he grumbles, so low Vernon almost doesn’t catch it. 

“Wow, you guys are so creative,” you gush. “Nonnie and I both took the easy way out.”

The affectionate nickname catches Vernon off guard and he can’t help but crack a smile, ignoring the knowing glance from Jihoon. 

“Well you guys look great,” Soonyoung assures you. “Especially you, Vernon! Since when is Peter Parker so sexy?”

“Since always,” Vernon scoffs. “Have you seen the movies?”

Soonyoung opens his mouth to respond but Jihoon nudges him in the side before he can. Headlights flash in the windows, distracting all four of you from what you’re talking about. 

“Oh, I think some more people just pulled up. I should be a good host and say hello to them too. Help yourselves to drinks or whatever. You know where everything is.”

Vernon nods and claps Soonyoung on the back as he passes him. “Thanks, Hosh, we’ll catch you later.”

You follow Vernon into the kitchen, saying hi to the people you know on the way. It was quieter in the kitchen, even though Mingyu and Chan were arguing over something undoubtedly unimportant by the sink. 

They stop only briefly to acknowledge you both before jumping right back into it. 

“What do you want to drink?” Vernon asks you.

“What do they have?”

“All the usual stuff, and it looks like Joshua brought some nice whiskey.” 

“Of course he did,” you chuckle. “Um, I’ll just have whatever you’re having. I usually like what you like.”

It’s true, you have so much in common, Vernon thinks to himself happily.

“Why are you smiling like that?” 

Vernon freezes. “Huh?”

“You’re like grinning to yourself about something. What is it? Are you laughing at me?”

“No, no, I’m not laughing at you. I just… like that you trust me to make something that will taste good.”

“I mean it’s not like you have to cook it,” you joke. “If that were the case I might feel differently.”

“Very funny.”

“I know, thank you.”

You watch Vernon pour a shot of vodka into each cup, balancing your chin in your hands, elbows resting on the countertop. He finds a half-empty bottle of lemonade in the fridge and mixes it with the vodka, topping the drinks off with some ice from a cooler on the ground. 

“Aren’t you supposed to add the ice first?” you ask. 

“Oh, so you are going to judge my bartending skills? I thought that was reserved for my cooking.”

“I am first and foremost a hater. You should know that by now. No one is safe, not even you.”

Not even him... did that mean he was getting special treatment otherwise? Was it because you saw him as more than a friend? Or was it that you didn’t feel close enough to him to roast him unabashedly? 

You had procured a butter knife from one of the drawers while Vernon was lost in thought and were now using it to mix the drinks he’s made. 

You throw the knife in the sink, the clattering disrupting Chan and Mingyu’s arguing once again. 

“Cheers,” you say, offering him one of the cups. 

He takes it and clinks it against yours.

“Cheers.”

-

“If Soonyoung plays one more Justin Bieber song I’m going to lose it,” you mutter, making Vernon chuckle into his vodka lemonade. 

“I’ll see if I can talk Jihoon into hijacking the playlist.”

“No, don’t do that, you know he’ll only play Bruno Mars!”

But Vernon’s already walking away to find him, saying something about ‘the lesser of two evils’.

You watch him go, unable to stop yourself from glancing at his ass and noting how good it looks in the Spider-man suit. When he’d appeared in your kitchen wearing it you thought you might melt through the floor.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to rip it off of him or jump him while he was still wearing it. You did neither of those things, of course, but it was all you’d been able to think about all night. 

Peter Parker was your favorite comic book character. You couldn’t believe that was the costume he chose. 

You were delusional to think you were getting over your crush on him in the first place but all of the supposed progress you had made on that went out the window as soon as he had called you angel earlier. 

The other guys seemed to think your attraction was mutual but Vernon was so goddamn hard to read that it was really anyone’s guess. 

Was he awkward around everyone, or was it just you? Sometimes you think there’s something there, on those rare nights you spend alone together, watching movies at your apartment or playing a card game you only kind of know the rules to. On nights like those, when you’re more touchy with each other than usual, when his gaze lingers on your lips a little too long, it’s easy to think that maybe everyone is right. Maybe the feelings are mutual. 

But then he’ll start acting weird, like he was tonight, and you don’t know how to take it. Are your feelings for him that obvious that he can see right through them? Do your attempts at flirting make him uncomfortable? Sometimes he flirts back though which is why it’s all so confusing.

“I need another drink,” you say to no one in particular before turning around and trekking back to the kitchen.

-

You’re gone when Vernon returns to where he’d left you. It had taken him a while to track down Woozi and plead his case, longer than he expected, but he didn’t think it was that long. 

Jihoon was more than happy to change the music but he told Vernon that he’d have to go distract Soonyoung in order to do so. It was like a series of side quests he had to complete to move to the next level and by the time he was finished you had disappeared. 

It’s not a big place but there are a lot of people in attendance which makes it  so he has to push through the crowds in his search for you. There are people inside and on the deck and in the yard so he has his work cut out for him. 

“Want another drink?” It’s Joshua with two cups in his hand. Vernon takes a glance at his empty solo cup and shrugs, trading for the full one. 

“Thanks. What is it?”

“Beer.”

“Cool.”

“Where’s your date?” Joshua asks, looking around. 

“She’s not my date, and I don’t know,” he admits. “I left her right there and she’s gone.”

“Dude, you left her alone in the middle of a party and expected her to just sit there and wait for you?”

“I wasn’t gone for that long!”

“Did you tell her you were coming back?” Vernon purses his lips. “How long were you gone for?” 

“Just a few minutes...” he mumbles. 

Joshua sighs. Vernon knows he’d be pinching the bridge of his nose if he could but his hands are full. 

“Go find her.”

“That’s what I was doing before you walked up to me!”

“Don’t waste time by arguing with me, just go.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Vernon nods sullenly before brushing past his friend into the next room. 

He finds you in the dining room talking to someone else. He relaxes until he realizes that ‘someone else’ is Kun. Qian Kun. Can’t wait to see u tn! Kun. You’re leaning against the wall, laughing at something he’s saying and Vernon’s blood runs cold. 

Before he can fully process what’s happening in front of him, he’s downing the rest of his beer and approaching you both. 

“Y/n, I was just looking for you,” he exclaims and throws an arm around your shoulders. The gesture is a bit possessive for his taste, but knowing what he knows about what the guy’s going to tell you tonight, he can’t help it. 

Kun gives Vernon a look, sizing him up as he takes a sip from his own drink. Vernon nearly scoffs. 

“Sorry, I went looking for you but I didn’t know where you’d gone off to,” you explain apologetically. 

“Jihoon made me keep Soonyoung busy so that he could change the music.” He points at the ceiling as if to prove his point, even though the music was coming from speakers on the walls. You all stop to listen to the Silk Sonic song filtering in from the other room. Vernon turns to you. “Anyway, I don’t mean to interrupt, but could I talk to you for a second?”

Kun can’t even hide the look of annoyance on his face. “We were kind of in the middle of something-”

“Yeah, sure- oh...”  you trail off awkwardly. You had spoken at the same time, unintentionally contradicting each other. Vernon has to fight to suppress his smile. “I’ll be right back, Kun,” you say, taking Vernon by the hand to drag him away. “This shouldn’t take long.”

She won’t be back, Vernon thinks to himself as he follows you through the house. Unless you reject him, then you probably will be. 

He almost runs into you when you stop in front of Soonyoung’s bedroom door. “Is here good or do we need somewhere more private?”

“Um, it’s still kind of loud out here, do you think we could go in there?”

“Yeah, I’m sure Soonyoung won’t mind.”

The room is unlocked, because of course it is, and you let yourselves inside. Vernon’s surprised to see Soonyoung’s bed is made, but he figures that he must have straightened up because company was coming over. 

You take a seat on the floor in front of the bed instead of on it and Vernon joins you, groaning as he struggles to cross his legs. 

“So, what’d you need to tell me?” you ask. 

He blinks and swallows hard. He wasn’t prepared for this at all. He hadn’t even thought about what to say or how to say it... he honestly thought he would chicken out and let the night play its course without intervening. He had been acting on instinct when he saw you with Kun. Zero thoughts, just action. And now he had you alone and you were looking at him so expectantly and-

“Vernon?”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you want to talk to me? Or were you just trying to be a good friend and get me away from that guy, because I know him and he’s cool. You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, actually I did want to tell you something,” he confesses. “I’m just a little nervous.”

“Oh, is everything okay?”

Vernon takes a deep breath and stares at the floor. “Yeah, um, everything’s fine. Kind of.” He pauses again, hating the way his voice sounds. His words are coming out shaky and uncertain (because they are) and this was not how he pictured this moment going. He sneaks a glance at you and sees your expression soften. 

“Take your time,” you whisper, placing your hand over his. 

“I just don’t want you to look at me differently,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to... ruin our friendship- god, that sounds so corny.”

“Vernon,” you say his name again, firmer this time to get him to look at you. “I think I know what you’re trying to say.”

His eyes widen in surprise. “You do?” 

You nod. “But I still want to hear you say it.”

Vernon groans into his hands. “Why! Do you want me to humiliate myself even more?”

“No, dummy, because I think I deserve to hear it. Don’t you?”

He can’t disagree with that. Even if it means risking the possibility of ruining everything.

“I think you’re really pretty,” he says stupidly, as if that encompasses everything he’s been feeling and thinking about you these past few months. 

You blink. “Is that it?”

“NO- sorry, shit. I- that didn’t come out the way I wanted it to. I do think you’re really pretty, though. Obviously. Honestly, I think you’re fucking gorgeous. I think... I think about you in a lot of ways that a friend probably shouldn’t.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “What kind of ways?”

“Are you really going to make me say it?” Vernon whines, hoping you can’t see the pink flush of his cheeks in the dark room. 

“No,” you relent with a chuckle. “I was just being annoying. But for the record, I also think about you in ways that friends probably shouldn’t.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm, do you want to know what kinds of ways?”

Vernon finds himself nodding even though his ears have started ringing and he’s not sure he’ll be able to hear your response. It’s hard to focus on anything other than the fact that you like him back. 

“Well, for one, I think you look very good in this Spider-man suit,” you say, running your fingers over the lycra. 

“You do?”

“It’s been driving me crazy all night,” you admit. “I was going to touch myself to the thought of you in it when I got home tonight.”

“Y-you were?” Vernon is apparently only capable of asking questions at the present moment but you don’t seem to mind. 

“I’ve been trying not to stare, but it fits you so well. You picked this on purpose, didn’t you? You wanted me to suffer because you know Spider-man is my favorite.”

“I didn’t think it would be so tight!”

“I’ll pretend to believe you,” you muse, and god, you’re so close to him...Vernon feels like he can’t breathe. 

Just like before, he lets his instincts lead him. No thoughts, just action.

He closes his eyes and leans forward, meeting you where you were waiting for him.  He presses his lips to yours lightly, savoring the surprised gasp you let out against his mouth. Your lips are so soft, just as soft as the rest of you. 

You’re the first to part your lips, inviting Vernon to slip his tongue into your mouth. He’s happy to do so, and he’s even happier when you moan in response. 

You start to lean forward, chasing the kiss even though Vernon hasn’t pulled away. It must still not be enough for you because, in the next breath, you stumble to your knees and climb onto his lap. 

Vernon’s hands automatically attach themselves to your hips to keep you steady as you straddle him. He shifts you awkwardly on top of him, trying to keep you off of his-

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, freezing in place. 

He can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. 

Why, god why, did this suit have to be so tight? He should’ve stopped you when you climbed onto his lap. He knows the effect you have on him, of course he’d be hard the second you started kissing him. Hell, he’s been fighting a boner the entire night. Just watching you walk around in your angel outfit was doing it for him. 

Sure, you were making out with him, and you’d made that dirty comment earlier, but that didn’t mean you were ready to fuck him. He would never assume that’s where the night was going but you might assume that he was assuming because you can feel how hard his fucking dick is under you...

“Why are you sorry?” you ask softly.

Vernon cringes at himself. “Because,” is all he says before you seem to get it. 

“Oh, that. I’m flattered.”

“Stop,” he whines, “I really didn’t mean to. You weren’t supposed to-”

“I know, baby,” you soothe him. Vernon doesn’t get the chance to melt at the pet name you’ve just called him because he’s still mid-panic, but he files it away for later. “But don’t worry. I think it’s really hot.”

“You do?”

You nod. “And I bet if you were able to feel me under my costume too, you’d know that you aren’t alone.”

“Wait, what?” he breathes. 

You lean forward again, chest pressed against his, to whisper in his ear. “I’ve been wet since you kissed me. Probably longer.”

You’re smirking when you pull back and Vernon is left to stare at you in shock. 

“See for yourself,” you say, repositioning yourself on his lap so that he has access to you. “Touch me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you going to make me beg for it?” you tease. Vernon goes stiff under you again, making you chuckle. “Maybe another time, then? Just slip your fingers under my leotard. I’ve soaked through my tights already.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m going to cum if you keep saying things like that,” he warns you. 

“Oh no whatever would we do?” you lament. “You can just get hard again if that happens, right?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Then come on, touch me. You’ve made me wait long enough.”

“I won’t waste any more time, then,” he assures you, gathering his confidence. 

He frees one of his hands by releasing your hip and brings it in between your legs, fingers trailing across your thigh in a way that makes you suck in a sharp breath. He ghosts his fingers over the material of your costume first, deciding it’s only fair to tease you back, at least a little. Then, he wiggles two of them under the elastic hem of your costume, where your hip meets your thigh. 

“Fuck, you weren’t kidding.”

“I... told you.”

He moves his fingers experimentally, offering you a little friction. “Does that feel good?”

You push yourself into his touch and nod. “Yeah, feels so good.”

“I really want to finger you,” he admits. 

“Oh, you do?”

“Is that okay? I mean, can I?”

“Totally, let me just—” 

You stand and wiggle out of your tutu, leaving you in your wings, leotard, and tights. The wings go next. You toss them on Soonyoung’s bed and then slip the straps of your leotard off your shoulders. You hesitate, looking a little nervous all of the sudden.

“I’m not wearing a bra under this,” you say. “Is that okay?”

Vernon almost laughs at the perpostuous question but he doesn’t. He almost says ‘are you kidding me, I’ve only been thinking about this exact moment for months now, please take it off,’ but he doesn’t. 

“Of course it’s okay,” is what he says instead, like a normal person. “But only if you feel comfortable with that.”

“I do, it’s just… I feel like after this we really won’t be able to go back.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Vernon insists. “I want this. I want you.” 

That seems to put you at ease. So much so, that you walk back over to where Vernon is still sitting on the floor and lean down to kiss him again. 

“You know, you have to take yours off too if you want to finger me,” you point out. 

Vernon wiggles his fingers inside the suit’s gloves and grins. “What, you don’t want these inside of you?”

“I don’t particularly want a yeast infection so, no. I don’t. And how are we supposed to do anything else if you’ve got that thing on anyway?” 

He pretends to pout. “I thought you liked the suit.”

“I do, but I can’t fuck you in it.” Vernon chokes on his own saliva when you say that but you don’t acknowledge it. “Unless there’s like a zipper for your dick or something?” 

“There’s not,” he mumbles hoarsely. “Had to take the whole thing off just to pee.”

“Then off. Unless you don’t want to-”

He’s already up and unzipping the back of the suit. 

It’s almost comical, the way you’re both struggling out of your tight costumes on opposite sides of the room. Vernon was able to get the zipper down but getting himself out of the material that clung to him like a second skin is a little more difficult. 

On your side, you’re tripping over your tights and shouting expletives to no one in particular. 

Finally, you’re both undressed. You’re left in just your panties and Vernon only had his briefs on. He’s usually a boxers guy but the spidey suit had called for something a little more snug.

You meet him back at the foot of the bed, smiling with apprehensive excitement. Immediately, his gaze falls to your boobs. He told himself he wouldn’t stare but god damn it, he’s only human. 

Once he’s done being blinded by your tits he takes in all of you. The soft lines and gentle curves of your body. The fullness of your lips. The delicate flutter of your eyelashes.

You still look like an angel in the white panties you’d chosen to wear under your costume— probably so they wouldn’t show through the other material. He could feel how wet you were before but now he can see it. The cotton is completely soaked through, making the white look translucent against you.

“Okay, I know you said you wanted to finger me, but I really want to fuck you.”

Vernon almost chokes again. “What?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

He’s the one to smirk this time, pulling you onto his lap. 

“I will fuck you,” he promises, “after I finger you.”

“I don’t wanna wait,” you whine as he kisses your neck. 

“I’ve got to prep you first, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“But you felt how wet I was earlier! I can take it.”

Vernon takes your hand and places it over his bulge, making you gasp. It’s hard to think with your warm hand wrapped around him, even through his underwear, but he pushes through it.

“I’m not trying to brag or be an asshole about it, I swear. It’s just, I really don’t want to hurt you. Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat. 

Vernon resumes kissing your neck as one of his hands travels back in between your thighs. The other rests on your stomach, holding you in place. 

He slips his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and teases you some more before finally slipping one of them inside you. You go practically limp in relief and Vernon can’t help but tease you some more. 

“You were aching for it, weren’t you?” he coos. You nod. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I tried!”

“Aw, baby. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

He adds another finger and nips lightly at a spot just beneath your jaw when you sigh happily. 

“Can I leave marks?” he asks, praying you’ll say yes because he’s pretty sure that bite will turn into a small bruise. 

“Yeah, do whatever you want,” you breathe. “I’ll wear turtlenecks to work. I don’t give a fuck.”

So he sucks at that same spot to make sure there will definitely be a hickey there in the morning. The idea of you walking around with visible proof of what he’s done to you makes Vernon’s cock twitch in his boxers. He sucks another hickey into your skin right below the first one, just for good measure. 

“C-can you put another one in?” you plead. 

How could he ever say no to you when you look so pretty and you sound so desperate? 

He adds a third and finds your clit with his thumb. He tests out a few patterns to see which you like best, settling on the one that has you chanting his name like a prayer. He thinks you might be getting close with the way you’re repeatedly clenching around his fingers but you reach out to stop him just when he has you on the edge. 

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” you assure him. “I didn’t want to cum yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I want my first time with you to be on your cock,” you explain. “Is that dumb?”

Vernon shakes his head so hard he makes himself dizzy. “No, not at all!” 

“Then can we fuck now?”

“Do you think you’re stretched enough?”

“Only one way to find out.”

-

You had gotten your underwear off and Vernon’s underwear off before realizing you needed a condom. Now you were both searching around Soonyoung’s room for one completely naked. 

“Found them!” Vernon exclaims, holding up a handful of assorted contraceptives.

They’d been in the bedside drawer of Soonyoung’s nightstand. Go figure. He lays them out on the bed and sighs loudly. 

“Doesn’t he have any normal ones?”

“What do you mean?” you ask and crane your neck to look over Vernon’s shoulder. 

“These are all... either flavored or textured! And this one fucking glows in the dark.”

“That could be fun,” you giggle.

“Yeah, I bet you’d love to ride a neon green dick, you little monster fucker.”

“Hey! Now is not the time to use my kinks against me.”

“Sorry, you’re right. But I think I’ll have to indulge that side of you another time when we’re not fucking in one of our best friends’ rooms.”

“Then what about this one?”

“That’s a joke, right?”

“Obviously,” you scoff. “I’m not trying to kill you.”

“Who thinks of making a peanut butter and jelly flavored condom in the first place?”

“Sick people, that’s who,” you answer, going back to sifting through the pile on the bed.

“I don’t think it’d kill me,” Vernon adds. “It’d probably just make my dick swell up really big- so maybe it wouldn’t be all bad.”

“No, because then we’d have to go to the ER and explain what happened.”

“Here, this one’s probably our best bet.” Vernon holds up the package for you to see. “Do you have any qualms against strawberry?”

“Nope. But it does make me want to suck your dick to see if it actually tastes like strawberry.”

“As much as I’d love that, I definitely won’t last if you do. And I really want to fuck you right now.” You pout. “What if I promise to buy more for us so you can try it another time?”

“Deal.”

“I’ll get a variety pack so you can suck me off to any fruit you want.”

“Wow, such a romantic.”

“You know me,” he jokes. 

You gather up the rest of the condoms and deposit them back in the drawer while Vernon rips open the foil and rolls the condom on. He’s still incredibly hard despite the small setback so it goes on without any trouble. 

There’s a blanket folded at the end of Soonyoung’s bed that you take and lay out on the floor. 

“I wouldn’t want my friends fucking on my bed,” you explain. 

“I don’t think he’d care,” Vernon replies. “He’d probably be happy for us. But you’re right, it’s the respectful thing to do.”

The respectful thing to do would be to wait until you get home, but you’ve already made it this far so....

Vernon sits on the floor with his back against the bed. He motions for you do join him and you do, slowly lowering yourself onto his lap. He’s careful to hold you up when he pushes the tip of his cock inside of you. He doesn’t want you to get overwhelmed and accidentally sink all the way down, making it even harder to adjust. 

“Fuck,” you whimper. 

“Is it too much?”

“N-no, feels good,” you assure him. “You’re just... fucking huge.”

He tries not to smirk when you say that. He knows he isn’t the biggest out there, especially where length is concerned, but he likes to think he’s pretty well off when it comes to girth. That’s why he was so insistent on fingering you before he fucked you. Why you’re having trouble taking just the tip. It’s certainly a stroke to his ego. Although, his ego might also be shattered in a few seconds if you don’t stop clenching around the head of his cock. 

“Take some deep breaths,” Vernon tries, using one of his hands to rub your back soothingly. 

It’s ironic coming from him, the guy who could barely flirt with you without having an existential crisis. 

But it seems to help because he feels you relax, some of the tension easing from your form. You sink down a little further, biting your lip to stifle any involuntary noises you might make. You’re so wet, so unbelievably turned on, your arousal is literally dripping down the shaft of Vernon’s cock, but you’re still struggling to fit him. 

“Are you still okay? We can stop if it’s hurting.”

You shake your head stubbornly. “No, I want to keep going.”

“Okay, well take your time. We’re not in a rush.”

“You might not be,” you mutter, “but I’m impatient.” 

Vernon laughs. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, baby, just take it easy. You’re doing so good for me.” 

He cranes his neck to kiss you, pulling your bottom lip from between your teeth with his own. Again, you relax a little more. 

“Can you-” you start to ask, still kissing him. 

He pulls away to be able to hear you. “Hm?”

“Can you rub my clit? I think that’ll help... oh, fuck.”

“There we go, angel. My angel.” 

His words make you moan and arch your back which pushes your tits into his face. Instinctively, he takes one of them into his mouth, using his free hand to play with the other. He works his tongue around your nipple, feeling the other harden against his palm.

“God, Vernon,” you mumble, “can I please move?”

He releases your boobs to nod and answer you. “Fuck yes.”

He has to close his eyes as you start to bounce on his cock because it already feels too good. Seeing your face contorted in pleasure would make him lose it. 

Then, there’s movement from outside the door, footsteps. Both of you freeze. Vernon’s eyes fly open to see yours wide with panic. He puts a finger to his lips and you nod in understanding. 

He can’t tell how many voices are in the hall, nor can he tell what they’re talking about, but he knows they’re right outside because he can see silhouettes of their shoes blocking the light coming in from under the door. 

It’s almost impossible for the two of you to stay still. You’re still so goddamn tight around his cock. And you’re still so fucking warm and wet and your cunt is pulsing around him uncontrollably-

Vernon whimpers. He fucking whimpers into your shoulder and you hear it. He can’t even focus on being mortified because he has to put all of his focus into not rutting into you and not cumming super fucking fast. 

He needs whoever’s outside to leave and he needs them to leave now. Thankfully, they must hear his internal pleas- or maybe they heard his external whimper, because the voices disappear down the hall a couple of beats later. 

He lets out a sigh of relief thinking he’s in the clear when he hears you sniffle, almost like you’re crying... then he jerks his head up to see that’s exactly what’s happening and panics. 

“Oh my god, what’s wrong? What hurts?” He’s frantic, hands all over you. 

“Nothing hurts-”

“Don’t lie to me! You’re crying! Here, lift up. I’m so sorry-”

“Vernon!” you shout. 

“What!”

“I wasn’t lying.”

He cocks his head to the side, trying to understand. “But...”

“It just happens sometimes. It’s involuntary but it means I’m feeling good. I promise.”

“This has happened to you before?”

“Yeah, mostly when I’m alone.”

He wants to know more. Wants to know what it is that triggers it. But now isn’t exactly the best time so he files the questions away for later and concentrates on... making you cry harder. 

It doesn’t take him long to figure out that he actually really likes watching you cry (in this context specifically). He’s never elicited such an extreme reaction from someone before. 

He catches a tear on his thumb and sucks it off, making your hips stutter. You cup his face and kiss him hard. It’s messy and salty and Jesus Christ, Vernon has never been so hard in his fucking life. 

“I’m close,” you warn him. 

“Thank god,” he laughs, kissing you again. 

He starts rubbing your clit to help you get there and you’re falling apart in a matter of seconds. You bite his shoulder to muffle a scream as you cum, sending him over the edge with you. 

You’re both breathless when you finally come down from your highs. Your legs are shaky as you climb off of his lap. They’re still trembling when you collapse next to him on the blanket. 

“Shit, that was good.”

“Yeah? Wanna go again?”

“Of course.”

“Give me like... ten minutes,” Vernon sighs as he lays down beside you. “Maybe fifteen.”

You laugh. “But doesn’t Spider-man have a super short refractory period?”

He gives you a look. “Not in this universe.”

happy birthday bestie i hope you enjoyed mwah &lt;3

forever tags: @haven-cove @tantofaz123-blog @lee-hjyjn @ateez-star @baesgyus @likexaxdaydream @sunniesoobin @thefairwhitelight @pretty-thoughts @yutayoongi @hoe4wonwoo @yeostars @i-might-be-in-love-with-hao @camrenrodrigoswift1 @nichobins @bfwonu @arikimtanapon @ammcg0119 @redspider267 @fwess @horangipowerr @soobzao @kuleo26 @k00kiemonster99 @poutypoutybin @jeonghanspinkhair @jadiekinzz @yo0nspoon @djj6112 @drama-1998-girl @5xiang @yeritheloml @slut4seokjin @nc-teen @jungkookswife24069 @tannieflix @romromthedeer @urvashi435 @aurumness @sunghoonth @y00nzin0 @ksy-horanghae @haogyuslut @crushonwoo @rinshabitat @ivivz @cixrosie @princessofallthatsweird @friseealamode @candidupped @joshuahongnumbers @bxby-bloom @guavagyu @enhacolor @zhangyixingxing1 @foxdaisy @emotionalwreckkk @imonanotherlebel @vern0nsworld @cyjsfairy @jihoonliker @freakyfriedrice @yeosayang @myaerii @lenireads @itbtoblikethatsometimes @vernonburger @soonhoonietrash @tinkerbell460 @shmoooooo @tweetiebirb @junhui-recs @sluttywoozi @aishidaishi @sieunflrtz @laylasbunbunny @niyuzh @nanaspalette

add yourself to my taglist(s) here!

[constantcrisis19]

Domestic Bliss

Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN S/O

AN: I was thinking about starting a new series of one shots about a reader who is married Ghost so, while this will be the first story I post, it won't necessarily be the first in the timeline. I promise that it'll all make more sense when write enough fics to necessitate making a masterlist.

Word Count: 2,449

Main Page

You watched with a wide grin as Gaz nearly snorted coffee out of his nose at Soap’s recount of his earlier demonstration at the demolitions range, a truly impressive display that you just so happened to be present for, the resulting blast so big and so loud that you had stopped in your tracks in order to stare wide eyed at the bright flashes of light and dark plumes of smoke along with the rest of the recruits.

You still vividly remembered the truly manic expression on Soap's face as he’d watched the chain reaction go off, the crazy Scot standing as close to the resulting explosions as he could without injuring himself while everyone else with a modicum of self-preservation stayed further back.

You noticed a familiar figure prowl into the canteen and eagerly waved to Ghost, inviting the masked man to join you. Ghost didn’t even pause his stride, instead he simply redirected his course to begin walking towards the table that you, Gaz and Soap were currently occupying.

"Hey, babe." You greeted Ghost as you absentmindedly fiddled with the wedding ring that you kept on a silver chain around your neck. You’d been married to Ghost for six years now though had known the man since you were both stupid kids.

Unfortunately, you had moved away when you hit high school and the two of you had ended up losing touch with each other over the years, so it had been a pleasant surprise when you met again in the SAS when he was still a Sergeant, the two of you often being partnered with each other on ops since you worked well together.

The two of you hit it off one you got past the awkward pining stage of your relationship and then it wasn't long before you were getting hitched, the wedding taking place a few months before Simon went to Mexico in order to take down the Zaragoza cartel with that slimy fuck Vernon and came back... different.

Quieter. More paranoid. Broken.

As usual, Ghost’s only response was a brief dull stare and a sharp nod in your direction, though you never took his antisocial tendencies to heart. He sat down on the empty seat next to you, taking the mug of coffee that you slid over to him, and though Ghost was more fond of tea than coffee, he never turned down your cup when you offered it.

“Soap was just telling Gaz about his demonstration earlier.” You clued him into the conversation as he lifted his mask up just enough to uncover the lower portion of his face, lifting the mug to his lips in order to take a swig of the steaming contents, his resulting slight grimace at the taste forcing you to turn your head away in order to hide a smile.

“Aye, Lt. Yew shuid ‘ave been there, it was glorious.” Soap sighed whimsically, you and Gaz sharing an amused look at Soap’s usual antics since he never failed to either wax poetically or confess his undying love for bombs and explosives and such at least twice a day.

"Not interested." He dismissed bluntly, his expression flat, but despite his curt tone it was fairly obvious to you and anyone who knew Ghost that he wasn’t intentionally being rude. His standoffish behavior was mostly because he was emotionally stunted, which meant that he typically defaulted to being curt when he was actually just too tired or wound up to deal with any high-energy conversations.

“That’s just because you don’t have a thrill-seeking bone in your body, old man.” Gaz quipped, finishing off his cup of coffee before grabbing one of the muffins out of the container you’d brought with you. You and Ghost had managed to get some time to yourselves yesterday so you went off base and spent the afternoon out in the nearby city and you had decided to get a treat for the other three members of the 141.

“Ha! Better be careful, Gaz, we wuidn’t want him tae break a hip tryin’ tae teach yer sorry arse a lesson.” Soap added with a shit-eating grin, Ghost pausing with his mug halfway between the table and his mouth, his dark eyes darting over to a cocky Soap, who confidently met his gaze.

“You’re both such fucking shitheads.” You said with a laugh, placing your elbow on the table and resting your chin on your palm as you watched the ensuing showdown with blatant interest. And, since popcorn wasn’t exactly available at the moment, a muffin would have to do.

With your free hand you reached out across the table and took a muffin for yourself, taking a bite of the fluffy bakery item and humming softly at the pleasant taste.

Ghost blankly stared at the two smug men sitting across from him and he was quiet for so long that you began to wonder if he was even going to respond. Though, after a few seconds had passed, he finally spoke. “We’ll settle the matter on the mat. 1300”

The smile was quickly wiped off Soap and Gaz’s faces at the prospect of fighting Ghost, even if it was strictly for training, because Ghost was known among the recruits for being ruthless even while sparring, people who dared to go up against him coming out with bruises and even the occasional dislocated bone.

“You both are so gonna eat your words.” You cackled, pulling your hand out from under your chin in order to grab one of Ghost’s hands from where they were wrapped around his mug of coffee, lacing your fingers together and resting your intertwined hands between the two of you on the tabletop.

Ghost turned his gaze away from Soap and Gaz and stared at you for a few moments before looking down at your joined hands and sighing, lightly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. You bumped shoulders with him, basking in the heat that always seemed to come off the man in waves

“You’re clingy today.” Came Ghost's flat reply, his voice containing the slightest hint of amusement, and you playfully shoved at his shoulder with a half-hearted scowl, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms over your chest instead.

“You’re such an ungrateful ass sometimes. I’ll have you know that I’m a total catch, cuddly or not.” You declared petulantly, barely able to hold back your smile when you saw Soap snicker out of the corner of your eye.

Your shove as well as your bold statement was rewarded with a faint smile spreading across Ghost’s exposed lips, the man’s emotions being much more apparent without the mask there to hide his various reactions. Though that’s not to say that it was impossible for you to tell what he was thinking when he did wear the mask since Ghost had really expressive eyes and you had several years of experience reading every subtle shift of his gaze.

"You love it." Ghost said, his flat tone was broken by a small hint of sarcasm and humor, his voice growing slightly amused as he shifted slightly to face you with a dead-pan look.

"Unfortunately." You sighed dramatically before leaning over to plant a fond, chaste kiss against his fabric covered cheek.

"Love you too, sweetheart." He said with all the enthusiasm of a brick wall.

"Love you more, stud-muffin." You said with a quirk of your brow. It wasn't a secret that one of you and Ghost's favorite games was to see who could come up with the most ridiculous pet names for the other, and you both indulged in the game so often that even other members of the 141 would play along, the game never failing to escalate and get everybody involved all sorts of riled up.

"Love you most, dandelion." His words sounded teasingly sarcastic and dry as he called you 'sweetheart', and you could have sworn that you heard a tinge of humor in that flat tone of his as he spoke.

“Aren’t you two adorable.” Gaz sighed dramatically and you flicked him off, petulantly sticking your tongue out at the other man, Gaz giving you a wide grin in response.

"Everyone shut up and let me finish my breakfast in peace." Ghost grouched, grabbing a muffin from the container and pulling a piece of the top part off, one of his quirks being that he always eats the muffin top first before moving on to the rest.

"Anything for you, pookie." You ribbed at Ghost, hearing Soap give a bark of laughter from his seat across from the two of you at the dumb nickname. You raised a brow at Ghost when he gave you a judgemental side eye, daring him to try and one up you.

“How considerate of you, buttercup.” Ghost commented neutrally, his tone dry, and you tilted your head at him, raising a questioning brow at him.

"What’s with all the flowery pet names? I expected more creativity from you, doll face." You sighed with a mock-disappointed sigh and shake of your head.

"You aren't worth the effort, honey." He deadpanned. And, while Ghost may have seemed to be insulting you from an outside perspective, it was fairly obvious going by the mirthful glint in his eyes that he was just teasing.

"If I can force myself to laugh at your shitty dad jokes, then you could at least try to think up an imaginative name for me." You said with a smile, just so that Ghost would be able to tell that you were mostly joking.

“Believe it or not, I'm not trying to impress you. You're stuck with me either way." Ghost shrugged, Soap giving a low disbelieving whistle at the bold words as you rolled your eyes.

"I think that it's safe to say that we've officially left the honeymoon phase of our relationship then." You chuckled good-naturedly, placing a hand on Ghost's thigh and squeezing before just letting your hand rest there as a soothing weight since Ghost never seemed to mind your touch.

"We're way past that. We've been married for six years now and we know each other's quirks and ticks." Ghost paused for a few seconds, pulling off another bite of muffin before continuing on. "We know how to get under each other’s skin, but I still wouldn't have it any other way."

"Me neither, love bug." You smirk in thinly veiled amusement and triumph, and Ghost dropped his holier-than-thou attitude and rolled his eyes at the ridiculous nickname.

"You always know what to say to lighten the mood, honey-bun." Ghost drawled as he stripped the wrapper off his muffin in order to begin digging into the bottom half of the baked treat, his voice sounding equal parts sarcastic and genuine.

“Yew two are fuckin’ cracked, a true match made in hell.” Soap piped up as he started in on his third muffin, crumbs covering the majority of the table in front of him. And though some people found Soap’s messy eating habits disgusting, you actually thought his toddler-esque way of eating was somewhat endearing.

“You’re just mad cause you weren’t able to be Ghost’s best man at the wedding.” You replied with a cheeky grin, leaning across the table to flick Soap’s scarred eyebrow.

“I dinnae even know Lt yet! An’ it's not my fault tha’ yew impatient bastards cannae ‘ave waited a couple more years before gettin’ hitched.” Soap was quick to defend himself, abandoning his food in favor of gesticulating wildly as he complained.

“Fuck off, angel face.” You said good-naturedly, placing your palms flat on the table and leaning into Soap’s personal space, the man mirroring your movements.

“Never, ya wee feral bairn.” He shot back without missing a beat as he shifted even closer, slowly but steadily closing the distance between your faces.

“Teddy bear.” You happily continued your banter with a mischievous grin, pushing forward until your noses were practically brushing as you stared each other down.

“Both of you shut it.” Ghost interrupted your battle of wills, grabbing your forearm and gently pulling you back down into your seat, his hand sliding down your arm until he reached your hand before lacing your fingers together, squeezing in a wordless reprimand.

“So, how was the wedding? Seeing as we weren't there.” Gaz broke the companionable silence that had descended over the four of you, popping the last of his muffin into his mouth before washing it down with the last of his coffee.

“An’ who was Ghost's best man?” Soap tacked on almost as an afterthought as he leaned back in his seat as far as he could get away with without losing his balance and toppling over ass over teakettle.

“First of all, Price was the best man, which is only fair since he's the one who introduced us to each other.” Well, more like reintroduced, but you weren't about to get hung up on the schematics.

You brought your shoulder up into a nonchalant little shrug, absentmindedly tapping the fingers of your unoccupied hand on the tabletop aa you ignored Gaz and Soap's twin looks of surprise in favor of continuing. “And our wedding wasn’t anything over the top. It was just a small ceremony in a secluded church with a short guest list. We both agreed that we didn’t want to make a huge fuss.”

“And you were cool with a modest wedding? No extravagant flowers or decorations or cake?” Gaz asked, his brows furrowed and you could see where the confusion was coming from since the media made most people feel like the average wedding was supposed to be huge and expensive.

Though that being said, you wouldn’t necessarily have minded something lavish like that, you just didn’t really feel that all the fanfare was necessary for you and Simon. You were both well aware of how much you loved each other, so you mutually agreed that you didn’t need some big ceremony to prove your devotion to each other.

“As far as I’m concerned, all I needed was Simon.” You said, turning your gaze to Ghost and bringing your joined hands up to your mouth in order to plant an affectionate kiss onto the back of his hand.

Ghost stared at you for a short moment, looking a bit caught off guard, before he managed to pull himself together. He moved closer, leaning down and tilting his head in order to place his lips against yours in a soft kiss, letting the connection linger before pulling away just far enough to speak, his breaths fanning intimately across your lips.

“And I’ll do everything in my power to make sure that you’ll never want for anything else.”

[mymoodwriting]

21.5k, Maestro AU, dystopia, advanced technology, robots, kidnapping, manipulation, mind control, hypnosis, assault, physical assault, violence, hacking, supernatural elements, restraints, collars, mental abuse, electrocution, hallucinations, reader is a minor character, I don't know who the main character is either

“Do you hear the piano?”

“Huh?”

“The piano. It’s playing in the distance.”

“I don’t hear anything, y/n.”

“It sounds so pretty.”

“And you know music isn’t really a good thing around here.”

“Yeah…”

You could definitely hear a piano, even if it was quite faint, but there was no way you were gonna be able to find the source. Mingyu was right though, music wasn’t much of a thing around here. The world itself was quite depressing, and everyone worked to stay alive, even if the job was shit. You were lucky to work as a delivery person, one of the simpler jobs, but it had its cons too. You’d drive all over the city, even to the more dangerous parts. So far nothing bad had happened to you, but there was no guarantee that would always be the case. Still, you made money, and you could pay your part of the bills.

You lived in an apartment with three other guys, who were all like brothers to you. It was a decent size place, and you all had your own space too. Most of the apartment was littered with electronic parts as Vernon was a technician that worked from home. He was a freelancer, fixing things in what he considered his work space, which was everywhere that wasn’t a bedroom. Wonwoo worked construction, getting up early and coming back late, but he always said he had enough down time to rest and recover. Mingyu worked as a mechanic at an auto shop not so far from the apartment.

Between the four of you there was a car, but on most days Wonwoo would take it. You had your work van, so if Vernon ever needed to get somewhere, or some items needed to be picked up, that job usually fell on you. At least your office was nearby so it wasn’t a hassle to get to and from work without a vehicle. Today though was a rare treat as you were all off and could do somethings together. You had all gone out to get some groceries, as well as other necessities for the apartment. As you were loading up the trunk that’s when you began to hear the piano, instantly entranced by the melody. In this world music was scarce and unfortunately not encouraged. If anything it was frowned upon.

The peacekeepers maintained order, and many times you had seen them beat those for causing a ruckus or playing music. You weren’t entirely sure why such a thing seemed to be a problem, but it made you appreciate whenever you heard a nice tune. Besides the peacekeepers there were robots around the city. Some worked alongside humans in certain labor-intensive fields, others had simpler tasks, and some freely walked around available to help anyone who needed assistance with anything. Then there were the roaming CCTV robots, the robo-dogs as people called them. They were all over the place,watching everything. Of course there were still normal CCTV cameras around too, so safety and peace were maintained well on multiple levels.

“Let’s go.”

Mingyu shut the trunk and you followed him to the front. You got into the passenger seat, Mingyu hopping behind the wheel. You glanced in the rearview mirror, seeing Vernon on his tablet, headphones on, clearly engrossed in work. Whereas Wonwoo had his head back against the headrest, eyes closed, using this time to wind down. You couldn’t help the small smile on your face. They were all great company. When you got to the apartment everyone helped bring things up, allowing it to be done in one trip. You put things away and then collapsed on the couch, turning on the TV and half listening to the news.

“Y’all better not stay up late.” Vernon commented. “You guys have work in the morning.”

“And you?” Wonwoo mumbled. “All you do is stay home.”

“I pay my bills.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’m a technician, or did you forget where you got such a dope phone?”

“Well you better not stay up late making a bunch of noise!”

“I won’t.”

“You say that a lot.” You added. “You should soundproof your room.”

“I don’t wanna work in my room.”

“Obviously.” Mingyu mentioned. “Your shit is everywhere in this apartment.”

“You’re just jealous I get to work from home.”

“Only sometimes.” Wonwoo added. “Or so you say.”

“Whatever.”

Most days were the same, but you each kept each other entertained, making every sundown and sunrise worth seeing. On slow days when you’d get home first you tended to sit out on the balcony, enjoying the cool breeze of the night air. While sitting out there one day you began to hear the sounds of a piano. Just like before, it was a beautiful melody, and you could hear it better this time. You closed your eyes and let the music take over, softly nodding your head along to the beat, tuning out the rest of the world.

As Wonwoo walked in he was careful not to make too much noise. It was pretty late and he was certain everyone else was already sleeping. He was sneaking back to his room when he heard a soft hum, suddenly realizing how cold the living room was. He looked around, realizing the balcony door was slightly open. Wonwoo made his way over, realizing the humming was getting louder. He slowly slid the door open, seeing you hugging your knees to your chest, eyes closed and rocking to the sides as you hummed. You seemed rather content but he was concerned by all of this.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”

You opened your eyes, smiling when you saw Wonwoo, although he seemed very worried. Which you didn’t understand.

“You’re home.”

“How long have you been out here? It’s really late, you know.”

“Is it? I didn’t realize…”

“What were you doing?”

“Just listening to the piano, can’t you hear it?”

“Y/n, I don’t think anyone is playing a piano at these hours.” 

“I heard it. I swear. It was coming from over there.”

You didn’t have an exact location, but you had a good idea which direction the sound had been coming from. You got up, although now that the music was gone the exhaustion was starting to hit you. A yawn escaped your lips and you pointed off into the distance mindlessly, leaning against Wonwoo. He wrapped his arms around you, feeling how cold you were. Before he could comment his gaze followed your gesture, and his concern for you only got worse. You were pointing towards the Metronome Theater. 

“Let’s get you inside. You need to get some sleep.”

Wonwoo led a sleepy you down the hall and towards your bedroom, helping you get under the covers and tucking you in. He made sure your alarm was set so you wouldn’t be late for work. He quietly stepped out and shut the door behind him. He stood outside your room for a moment, his thoughts lingering on what had just happened. It wasn’t necessarily something to worry about, but it still bothered him. He barely managed to sleep that night, and next thing he knew it was time to get up again. As he was about to head out he stopped himself, going over to Vernon’s room and knocking on the door before opening it. Unsurprisingly the boy was awake.

“Are you working outside the apartment today?”

“No. Why?”

“Could you do me a favor and look after y/n today.”

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know but could you just tag along with her today and keep her out of trouble.”

“Sure. No problem.”

“Thanks.”

Despite the unspoken outlaw of music, the Metronome Theater still stood. It looked exactly like the name described, a giant metronome amongst the buildings that made up the city. Most of the time the pendulum remained still, glowing an ominous red, but on occasion it would glow blue and move from side to side, creating a low ticking in the air. No one really understood the purpose of that structure, and for fear of getting into trouble many avoided the area. Regardless of what went on everyone understood one thing, the Metronome Theater was a dangerous place. Wonwoo stared at it before getting into the car. He never paid the theater any attention, but he might have to going forward.

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

You woke to the beeps of your alarm, groaning and rolling over in bed. You hadn’t slept much last night, but you weren’t all that tired. After a moment you got up and began to get ready for the day. Once you were dressed you got yourself a quick breakfast, ready to head out.

“Morning, y/n.” Vernon greeted you. “How you feeling?”

“Good. Just getting ready for work.”

“Cool. Mind if I come along with you today?”

“Why? Do you need me to drop you off somewhere?”

“No, no, just wanna get out of the apartment, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. I could use the company.”

“Awesome.”

Vernon walked with you to the office, letting you go off on your own to clock in and then come around for him in the delivery van. He happily hopped into the passenger seat.

“Lunch is on me.”

“Obviously.”

“What?”

“You think you just get to ride around for free?”

“But you enjoy my company.”

“And free food.”

“Fine. Whatever you want.”

“Excellent.”

Of course Vernon was just coming along for fun, not actually helping you with the job cause he didn’t want to do anything wrong and get you in trouble. He tried that once before and it did not go well. So it’s more accurate to say he doesn’t help so you don’t wind up in trouble again because of him. When he went with you nowadays he was more like your guardian angel, and today was no different for him. He stayed in the van, saving you the trouble of rushing and hoping it wasn’t stolen while you did your deliveries. 

“Oh, why hello there.”

The robo-dogs could be found anywhere in the city, both high and low, and in very unlikely places. You were used to seeing them in the buildings you delivered to, and it was great their programming had them act very friendly, like real dogs.

“I’m just doing some deliveries, little guy.”

You held up your badge, showing proof you could be there. You didn’t have to, but you liked to do so whenever you ran into these guys. That way if anything ever happened in the building you’d be recognized as a delivery employee who’s just passing through. It was your own insurance, and there was no real reason to hide your purpose here. You gave the little robot a pat, and it seemed to enjoy that. Soon enough you started to hear a soft melody. You thought you were imagining things, but the sound slowly got louder and then you realized it was coming from the robot.

“You got a song for me, little guy?”

You didn’t know the robo-dogs had speakers in them, let alone that they would play music. It was a nice treat, and you couldn’t help but follow the little guy when he started walking off. You could use a break anyway.

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

While waiting Vernon would be on his phone, going over his list of things to do and figuring out how to prioritize. Although at a particular stop he felt like you were taking too long, especially since you had walked in with like two boxes. He was about to go check on you when he saw you walk out, immediately feeling relief. Then again he noticed you weren’t walking towards the van, and instead seemed to be following one of the robo-dogs. It was very strange, and he wasn’t just gonna watch. He got out of the van and called out to you, but you didn’t respond. When he caught up to you he grabbed your arm and turned you around, seeing a dazed look on your face before you seemed to come back to your senses.

“Vernon?”

“Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“What were you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Just now.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know. You were like sleep walking or something.”

“Oh, I guess maybe I’m just tired.”

“Did you sleep enough last night?”

“I think so. I’m alright though, I promise.”

“Okay, but you let me know if anything’s wrong.”

“I will. Let’s go now.”

Vernon wasn’t entirely convinced, but he wasn’t going to push it right now. Instead he was starting to get an idea as to why Wonwoo wanted him to go out with you today. Something certainly felt wrong here, but he wasn’t entirely sure what. At one point his eyes landed on the Metronome Theater, staring at it as you drove along. That whole place was just an eyesore, and it always gave him the creeps.

“Okay. This might take a few since I gotta deliver on multiple floors.”

“Alright, just be safe and come back.”

“That’s a given.”

You grabbed what you needed from the back, making your way into the building. You started from the top and made your way down. For the most part you just left packages at doors, but on occasion you’d knock to get a signature. You were a bit tired when you dropped off the last one, but at least you were done here.

“Do you require assistance?”

You jumped when you heard a robot, looking back to see it on the steps leading to the basement floor. In a bigger building like this it was more common for there to be robots to help tenants when needed.

“I’m alright, thank you. I’m just doing deliveries.”

You showed your badge once more, definitely needing to identify yourself as these robots tended to have records of who lived here and would call the authorities on any unauthorized visitors. You waited for the robot to accept your reason for being there, but it was eerily quiet.

“Uh… I’m going to be taking my leave now.”

As you stepped away the robot suddenly grabbed your arm. Then the blank face plate began to glow red, swallowing you up and cutting your world to black.

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

Vernon stepped out of the van, stretching his limbs. He stared at the building you had gone into, getting this uneasy feeling. He checked the time, seeing that you had been gone for about twenty minutes now. That wasn’t too long, but something just didn’t feel right. It probably wasn’t best to just dwell on it, so he locked the van and took the keys, heading into the building. The place seemed quiet, so he went around calling your name, getting no response. Every second that went by was making him nervous. As he was about to head out a gleam of light caught his attention. He walked over to the source and picked up your badge off the floor. Now he was very concerned.

“Shit…”

He called out your name again, stepping down towards the basement. It seemed very dark down here, but that was the least of his worries. He called out to you again and again but there was no response. Then he wound up bumping into something and falling to the ground. He looked up to see a robot standing in his way. Before saying something he noticed some light down the hall, realizing there was a door that led out, another exit. Vernon quickly scrambled to his feet, but the robot moved to stand in his way.

“Do you require assistance?”

“No, no, I-”

“Do you require assistance?”

“No! I’m a delivery person.” 

Vernon held up your badge, covering your face and name, hoping the robot would accept that and leave him alone. It didn’t work, and the machine still stood in his way. Vernon tried to get past once more, yet he was blocked. He intended to push his way through only to be grabbed and shoved to the floor. He groaned as he hit the ground, partially out of breath. He looked back up to see a red glow emanating from the robot’s faceplate, telling him that something was very wrong here.

“You… you intentionally stopped me… you hurt me… you hurt a human…” Vernon got up, making note of the number on the robot’s chestplate. “Robot model S-009588, you are to answer all my questions going forward, what is your directive?”

“Protect the target.”

“What target?”

“A young female identified as a delivery worker. Last spotted at this location.”

“What? Where is she!?”

“Unknown.”

“What do you mean? How do you not know where she is! You took her in the first place!”

“Incorrect. My objective is to protect the target.”

“From-”

The robot suddenly seemed to glitch and shut down, completely powering off right in front of Vernon. He cautiously took a step back and then it seemed to reboot itself.

“Do you require assistance?”

“Uh… no…”

Vernon took a small step forward and the robot stepped to the side. It was certainly acting how it was supposed to now. He still had many questions, and needed to further look into this, but for now he needed to go. He ran towards the back door, stepping out into the streets once again. Despite the minutes that had passed he still looked around, hoping by some miracle to see you, but of course you were nowhere to be found.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Vernon went back inside, intending to find the robot and interrogating it, but just like you, it was gone. He kicked the nearest item and swore again, storming back to the van. He slammed his hands against the wheel, screaming. The whole point of him being out with you today was to prevent something like this, and he had royally fucked it up. Now he had to make things worse with a phone call.

“What’s up?”

“Wonwoo…”

“Hm?”

“She… y/n… she’s gone…”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone!? I asked you to look after her!”

“I know but… I’m not sure what happened. I was attacked by a robot and-”

“Have you told Mingyu?”

“What the hell am I supposed to say? That y/n just walked into a building and never came out? You’re the one who was worried about her and didn’t really say anything!”

“Look, just call Mingyu and get back to the apartment, I’ll head over too, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

Vernon drove over to the auto shop Mingyu worked at. He was familiar with the other mechanics, and just waltzed in, finding Mingyu under a car. He kicked at his leg to coax the boy out. His smiling face changed to concern when he saw Vernon.

“What are you doing here? I thought you went out with y/n?”

“We need to talk. Wonwoo will meet us at the apartment.”

“What happened?”

“It’s complicated.”

“And y/n?”

“…”

“Fuck. Vernon, what did you do?”

“Let’s just go.”

The two walked back to the apartment in silence. Vernon couldn’t imagine what was running through Mingyu’s head, but he had questions of his own. A while after they arrived Wonwoo entered the apartment.

“What the fuck is going on?” Mingyu questioned. “What did you guys do?”

“It’s not something we did.” Wonwoo explained. “But something that happened.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“One of you better start talking.”

“Y/n’s been kidnapped.” Vernon stated. “That’s what’s going on.”

“What do you mean!? What did you do!?”

“Why do you think we did something? How do I know this isn’t your fault?”

“You’re the one who messes around with the law, Vernon! And Wonwoo works with all kinds of people. How do I know either of you didn’t piss off the wrong person?”

“We didn’t do anything.” Wonwoo interrupted. “I think something else is going on.”

“Like what?”

“When I got home last night I found y/n out on the balcony. She had been out there for a while, saying she had been listening to some piano.”

“A piano?” Mingyu wondered. “Did you hear it?”

“No. It stopped playing by the time I stepped out. Why?”

“Y/n… she mentioned hearing a piano when we had gone out the other day, but I didn’t hear anything.”

“Why is a piano our concern here?” Vernon questioned. “What does that mean?”

“She said the music was coming from the Metronome Theater.” Wonwoo admitted.

“Oh… wait, so you think someone from the theater kidnapped her? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You know that place is weird.” Mingyu said. “The people who go in don’t tend to come out, and if they do, they’re not quite the same.”

“Okay, but why would they kidnap her? In fact, how do you know it was them? I was attacked by a robot! Someone clearly hacked into that thing.”

“You were attacked by a robot? Like an actual one or the robo-dogs?”

“Now that you mention it… after a certain stop I saw y/n sleep walking behind a robo-dog, like it was leading her somewhere.”

“Oh so you knew something was up and you still left her alone!” Wonwoo accused. “Are you serious!”

“You could have told me what you were actually worried about here! I thought maybe she was sick or something.”

“I shouldn’t have let her go out in the first place.”

“We don’t know who took her.” Mingyu reminded. “Not for sure. So let’s focus on that first.”

“How?”

“Easy enough. Vernon, you can hack into CCTV right?”

“Obviously. Even the robots, so clearly whoever took her knows a thing or two about tech.”

“Right. So let’s go back to where she was taken and see if the CCTV can lead us to her.”

Everyone was pretty tense over the situation, but they were trying not to let panic take hold. This could all just be some big misunderstanding and you’d call them soon enough, asking where they were. For the sake of not sticking out they decided to take your work van, returning to the last place you had been seen. In a matter of minutes Vernon gained access to the CCTV cameras around, sifting through the footage to find you. He showed the others the moment you went inside, and then skipped ahead, switching to the back door cameras. They were all concerned and surprised when they saw you walk out, following a robot as if you were being escorted somewhere. From there they followed your path, Mingyu driving. Although they soon lost track of you.

“What happened? Where did she go?”

“I’m not sure, the CCTV cameras in the next area are down.”

“What?”

“Let me try finding a different angle.”

Vernon kept working to find a camera, although it seemed that one after the other just weren’t operational. Wonwoo was looking over his shoulder, realizing they had lost track of you. He swore under his breath, although he soon realized something.

“Vernon.”

“Hm?”

“Do any of the cameras work around the Metronome Theater?”

“Uh… no… actually… none of the cameras within a quarter mile radius of the theater work.”

“So that whole area is a blind spot, and she walked into it.”

“Yeah.”

“So the theater it is.” Mingyu commented, staring at it from the car window. “Let’s go.”

The area around the theater was mostly abandoned, and now knowing none of the CCTV around worked made the place all the creepier. Mingyu parked the van across the street from the theater, all three staring out at it. 

“Are we sure she’s in there?” Vernon asked. “She went into a dark zone, someone could have taken her from here and there would be no record of it.”

“Perhaps.” Wonwoo said. “But something tells me she’s in there.”

“Okay, but how are we getting in? That place is usually closed, and it only opens sporadically. We don’t even know if it opened today.”

Just as Vernon said that the pendulum of the theater started moving, and the shutters over the doors went up.

“Huh, guess they’re open now.”

Wonwoo was the first out of the car, crossing the street, the other two soon following. What was strange were the other people that seemed to appear from nowhere also making their way to the theater. Despite what one might think, the inside of the theater was lavish and luxurious, not something you’d expect to see in this part of the city. None of them knew where to go, but the others that entered did. It was weird to see how everyone else walked in silently and went up the stairs, acting like robots themselves. The trio followed, keeping quiet as well and just going with the flow.

They went up two flights of stairs to the third floor, making it to the entrance of the actual theater. Rows and rows of empty seats surrounded the stage, people just taking a seat wherever. The curtains were down, and the lights were slowly fading and growing bright, signaling the show would begin soon. The boys took a seat towards the back, looking around to see if perhaps you were around, but they had no luck. A while later the doors closed and the lights went out, leaving them in darkness before the stage was illuminated. The curtains were drawn, revealing a whole orchestra on stage, two gentlemen standing front and center. 

“Welcome to the Metronome Theater.” The one with a beret spoke. “I’m the director, Seungkwan, and this is Joshua, the conductor for the night. Do enjoy the show.”

Seungkwan made his way off stage, disappearing into the darkness. Joshua on the other hand took his place before the orchestra, and soon the show began. The music was quite nice, not something any of them were used to hearing. There was no piano present, but they didn’t care much for the show itself. They took in their surroundings, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else. All the other guests were engrossed in the performance. For a moment Wonwoo zoned out while watching the conductor lead, something about him just seemed odd. He snapped out of it when Mingyu lightly shoved him, giving him a questioning look. They had other things to focus on right now.

When the show ended everyone got up to applaud, all seeming to move together. Joshua took a bow before the orchestra did the same and then cleared the stage. The doors had opened and a few robots were coming in, greeting some of the guests and then leading them towards the nearest exit. The trio immediately thought to follow, stepping out into the aisle and walking towards the stage. Although they didn’t get far before a spotlight was suddenly aimed at them, stopping them in their tracks.

“You three aren’t meant to be here.”

Once they had adjusted to the light they saw Joshua looking up from his bow, slowly standing, arms crossed over his chest, lightly tapping his wand to his shoulder. A smirk appeared on his face, looking them up and down.

“I advise you to leave before the Maestro gets upset.”

“We have no intention of leaving.” Mingyu stated. “We’re looking for someone, and perhaps your Maestro knows something.”

“Is that so?”

“If we can just talk to them and clear things up, then we’ll be on our way.”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“How come?”

“You were advised to leave.”

Joshua lifted up his wand, flicking it in the air as if he was still performing. They were all confused until they realized the other guests were moving in on them. Before they knew it they were surrounded and grabbed. The people around them had blank stares in their eyes, but they were doing well to restrain them.

“Thank you for coming.” Joshua stated. “Don’t return.”

The people began to drag them towards the exit, forcing them to fight back. They didn’t want to hurt anyone, but the situation was getting out of hand. These people didn’t want them here, so it was all the more reason to stay and investigate. Especially as Joshua was walking away. Wonwoo managed to break free from the crowd, running up towards the stage and tackling the conductor to the ground. The two tussled for a moment, and Wonwoo knew he had to get the wand out of Joshua’s hand. It wasn’t just some stick, but as soon as he ripped it away from Joshua he froze. His gaze slowly turned to the item in his hand. He couldn’t describe the feeling well, but there was some sort of power radiating from it, and now that he held it this energy seemed to be coursing into his veins.

“You have potential.” Joshua commented. “Perhaps the Maestro will see you.”

Before Wonwoo could really register what had been said, or what was happening, Mingyu had come to his side. He had escaped the crowd and took the wand from Wonwoo, snapping it in half without hesitation. Once he did so Joshua screamed, grabbing his head and thrashing on the ground. Both boys took a step back, unsure of what was going on. Even the rest of the guests seemed to collapse, leaving Vernon just as confused as his brothers. A moment later the lights went out again, and Joshua’s screams seemed to die down. When the light returned there was someone else present on the stage. A boy with white hair knelt down before Joshua, hands on his head, seeming to sooth the distressed boy. Soon enough the gaze of the stranger looked to them, a fire in his eyes.

“Get out!”

The lights flickered, and next thing the boys knew robots were rushing into the theater. They grabbed each of the boys, two or three per person, effortlessly dragging them out. Their strength was no match for the machines as they were thrown out onto the streets. Mingyu was the first to scramble to his feet, but as he reached the doors of the theater the shutters slammed down, locking him out.

“NO!”

Mingyu slammed his fist against the shutters over and over, as if that would change anything. The other two eventually came to his side.

“This doesn’t mean anything.” Vernon said. “This could just be some territorial shit, and this Maestro guy doesn’t like outsiders. Y/n might not be here.”

“And yet she could be.” Wonwoo remarked. “You saw how some people were taken elsewhere, not to mention the others… it’s like the music put them under a spell and they did whatever the conductor wanted. Y/n kept hearing a piano, and didn’t you say you caught her sleepwalking?”

“I… yes, but we don’t have solid proof.”

“Then find some.” Mingyu hissed. “There’s gotta be a robot around here that saw something.”

“Yeah, yeah I can look for that.”

Vernon made his way back to the van, the other two soon following. Although Wonwoo stopped and stared back at the theater. His mind went back to the moment he had held the conductor’s wand. The way he felt then still lingered, and he wanted to know what that was.

“Wonwoo!”

Upon hearing his name Wonwoo made his way back, the three in the van, Vernon getting his laptop out and getting to work on searching for some video footage.

“How are we gonna find proof?” Wonwoo asked. “The CCTV doesn’t work around here.”

“But there are other cameras.” Vernon remarked. “The robo-dogs are also CCTV. Even though they are everywhere, they each stick to a certain area. If we can find one around the theater I could get into its system and look at the recorded footage.”

“Alright. I’ll drive, you two keep a lookout.” Mingyu said. “Let me know when to stop.”

As planned they drove around the area, looking for a robo-dog. The issue with those was that they were free roam cameras, so it wasn’t entirely common to see them on the streets.

“What about taking down a robot?” Mingyu suggested. “We’ve seen a few of those.”

“It wouldn’t work.” Vernon mentioned. “The robots have their programs and internal systems, but they don’t actually record anything. We have CCTV and the robo-dogs so it would be overkill.”

“I guess.” 

“Oh, there’s one, Mingyu, pull over.”

The van came to a stop and Wonwoo stepped out, walking up to the little thing as it stepped out of an alleyway. They were very friendly robots, so the thing walked up to Wonwoo all on its own. Vernon had opened the side door, laptop in hand.

“What do I do?”

“Just grab it and bring it here. I’ll erase the footage of us grabbing it when we’re done.”

Wonwoo picked up the little guy, bringing it over the van and setting it down inside next to Vernon. It tried to get out, but Wonwoo prevented it from doing so. After a moment it sat down, the little red light going out.

“Alright, I’m in.”

“Are you sure it saw something?” Mingyu asked. “Or do we need to look for another one?”

“No. One should give me access to a few more in this area, one of them surely saw some… hold on.”

“What?”

“…”

“Vernon.”

“Hold on!”

“Aish, could you tell me-”

“Got it.”

“What?”

“The robo-dogs here are on two grids. The city and something else, I managed to dig deeper into the system just now, but I’m gonna need another minute to access this other grid.”

“I’m not understanding you.” Wonwoo said. “What do you mean another grid?”

“Another power grid, another system. Someone else besides the city is connected to these robo-dogs and thus has access to their recordings.”

“That’s not concerning at all.”

“I know so just- oh… this isn’t good… the CCTV around the theater isn’t broken, it’s on another grid.”

“Wait so you mean all the cameras around here work?”

“How come the city isn’t aware of this?” Mingyu questioned. “This whole area is thought to be a dark zone.”

“The city doesn’t care about the cameras being down cause the rodo-dogs in this area still work, and they’re more valuable.” Vernon explained. “That’s why they’re still online and connected to both grids. I doubt the city knows that someone else has easy access to the robo-dogs around here.”

“So who’s running this other grid?”

“Who do you think? Who’s at the center of this whole thing?”

“The Metronome Theater.”

“They’re the biggest power source in this area, so logically they’re the only ones who could run all this.”

“What about y/n though?” Wonwoo reminded. “Is she really in the theater?”

“Well, let’s check. Once I get access to the cameras we can see where she really went.”

A few minutes later Vernon did as he said, pulling up camera footage and going to the moment they had originally lost you. They could see you were still following a robot, and a moment later two more appeared. They continued to follow you through the cameras, and just as they suspected you made your way to the Metronome Theater, heading inside.

“Okay. So she’s in there somewhere.” Mingyu confirmed. “How do we get back in?”

“We can’t just walk in again.” Wonwoo added. “I’m sure they’ll be looking out for us.”

“Then we go in from below.” Vernon suggested. “The robo-dogs go underground to recharge and there has to be some sort of maintenance facility in this area. My guess is the theater. Someone in there must be a technician that fixes up all the robots around here. Which means there should be a way in the theater through underground maintenance tunnels that the robo-dogs would use.”

“Okay, but those things are small, do you think we’d fit?”

“The maintenance tunnels are designed to be big enough for a person to crouch through in case a robo-dog loses power down there and needs to be retrieved.”

“So all we gotta do now is find those tunnels and get inside.”

“What do we do once we’re in?” Wonwoo asked. “That place is huge and we have no idea where y/n would be.”

“If we’re going in then we’re not looking for y/n, but the Maestro. Whoever that is, they’ll surely know where she is.”

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

You felt as if you were waking from a dream, unsure as to when you fell asleep. Wherever you were, it was dark, but the light in front of you drew your attention. As you regained your senses you began to perceive your surroundings. You seemed to be in some sort of theater, watching a show. There was an orchestra on stage, along with the conductor leading the show. You noticed a few other people around you, but that all seemed to become pointless as you began to listen to the music. You hadn’t heard such a melody, becoming entranced by. After a moment you closed your eyes to give all your focus to the music, feeling so calm and relaxed.

“Good girl.”

The voice made you open your eyes, finding a gentleman with white hair standing before you with a big smile on his face. Before you could really process anything he lifted his glowing wand, gently tapping your head and causing your world to fade to black.

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

“Let’s go over the plan once more.”

With access to the robo-dogs it wasn’t hard for Vernon to map out their travel patterns and find multiple entrances to the maintenance tunnels. From there he could figure out where they needed to go and how to get inside the theater.

“Okay. I’ve found our entrance point into the maintenance tunnels, the closest one to the theater.” Vernon explained. “When we get to the theater itself I can mimic a robo-dogs signal to open the entrance and get us in. Although from there I’m gonna need to find an access port in order to gain access to the systems in the theater. There are no schematics or blueprints for that place, so right now I have no idea how the interior looks besides what we’ve seen, and that wasn’t much.”

“From there the goal is to go up.” Mingyu added. “Surely the Maestro would be at the highest point in the building. We just need to find the fastest route, and avoid as much resistance as possible.”

“The building will most likely be littered with robots, but once I have system access I can make sure they don’t hurt us.”

“What about the conductor?” Wonwoo asked. “Or that other guy? They seemed to have a lot of power in that place.”

“We already broke the conductor’s little stick, so they shouldn’t be a problem. As long as we move fast and don’t attract attention we should be fine.”

“Then what do we do if we find the Maestro?”

“When we find them we’re gonna demand answers. If things have to get rough then so be it. We know y/n’s in there. Let’s gather what we need and be ready to move in ten.”

Honestly the only person who needed things was Vernon, the other two were ready to go whenever. They all needed to travel light as there wasn’t much room in those tunnels to begin with. Since they knew the cameras around the theater worked they needed to avoid them. The best way to do that was to enter the sewers outside that area and travel through there to the maintenance tunnel that would lead them into the theater. It wasn’t pleasant, but it did well to give them the advantage they needed in order for this to work. None of them liked walking through the sewers, and the maintenance tunnels wouldn’t be any better. It would be short but uncomfortable nonetheless.

“Give me a second while I get the hatch open.”

Vernon got out his phone, doing a little something before the hatch opened. He was the first one through, glad to be able to stretch out, the other two soon getting out as well. They seemed to be in the middle of some hallway, and to their benefit it seemed empty.

“I need to look for some electrical currents so I can find an access point.” Vernon stated. “Give me a second.”

“Why do the walls say S3?” Wonwoo questioned.

“Shit.” Vernon mumbled. “I wasn’t entirely sure how low we went, but I think we’re in sub-level three.” 

“How big is this building…”

“No idea.”

Vernon followed the device in his hand, leading the others down the hall and towards an elevator. Which was the perfect thing to find. He pulled out some other tools, connecting to the wires behind the call button hacking in, ultimately gaining access to the entire system.

“Got it. Looks like this building has seventeen floors, and three sub-floors. So you definitely know where we are.”

“Great, we’re as far from the top as possible.” Mingyu said. “Just our luck. What’s the fastest way up?”

“Uh… there seems to be some kind of elevator that goes up to the seventeenth floor that we can access from the theater room.”

“So we need to go to the third floor?”

“No, there seems to be another theater on the thirteenth floor.”

“Of course. Is that the only way to access the top floor?”

“It seems to be the only direct connection closest to our current location. There are a few other elevators in this building, but only the one on the thirteenth floor will get us to seventeenth the fastest.”

“How are we supposed to get to the thirteenth floor undetected?”

“I’m looking into that. A place like this surely has blind spots, and if not, it shouldn’t be that hard to access their security system and hide us. I’m trying to map out our fastest route and looking into what type of security they have here. I just need a few minutes.”

“Well hurry up, we can’t push our luck.”

“I know.”

Vernon managed to find schematics of the building, taking a look at where they’d need to go in order to make it to their destination.

“Alright, from what I can tell the security here is pretty lax except for a few floors which we can avoid. There are some robots roaming around the building but they won’t be an issue either. We can take this elevator up to the first floor, and not so far from there we can get on another up to the seventh floor. From there we can reach the thirteenth. I’ve mapped out our path and have the cameras along the way looping. I’ve sent you both a copy of the route just in case, but we should get up to the seventeenth floor in about ten minutes.”

“Cool. Let’s move.”

It was a little strange being back in the lobby, considering they had been thrown out not so long ago. Vernon led the way over to the next elevator they needed to catch. Since the building didn’t see a lot of traffic they didn’t wait long. The highest this elevator went was the seventh floor, which was their next stop. It was strange that no single elevator connected all seventeen floors, but Wonwoo mentioned it was probably a safety thing. They thought things would be easy for them, but the elevator suddenly came to a stop on the fifth floor. For a moment they all got tense, Wonwoo and Mingyu ready to fight while Vernon was trying to cover them. Although when the doors opened there was no one. Mingyu carefully peeked his head out, but the halls were empty. Vernon tried closing the doors, but the elevator wouldn’t budge.

“I think it’s stuck.” Vernon commented. “This thing does seem old.”

“Then we should probably get off.” Wonwoo mentioned. “I guess we should take the stairs.”

“Not necessarily. Another elevator on this floor could take us up to the tenth floor, but that place seems to use a lot of power, which means heavy security.”

“Then why would we go there?”

“We could access the elevator that goes up to fourteen, and from there get up to seventeen. It’s our new fastest route from here.”

“As long as we’re still undetected it should work.” Mingyu said. “Lead the way, Vernon.”

No one else seemed to be on this floor either, the place being eerily quiet. There were a lot of doors with numbers, but no windows to see inside. It gave them all this uneasy feeling, but they kept going nonetheless. That is until they rounded a corner and Vernon stopped, stepping back and shoving the other two back, putting a finger to his lip and explaining himself in a whisper.

“Peacekeeper.”

“What!? Why is there one here?”

“I guess everyone comes to this theater.” Wonwoo commented. “You guys stay back, I got this.”

Wonwoo stood right against the corner, listening for footsteps. Once the peacekeeper was close enough he attacked. Lucky for him the only weapon his opponent had was a baton, and he had taken worse hits. It was easy for him to take down the peacekeeper, and the other two came to his side when he had won.

“I expected robots, not this.” Vernon mentioned. “Luckily the cameras here are looping so none of this was seen.”

“Then we can use this to our advantage.” Mingyu said, taking the mask from the peacekeeper. “I can dress like one of them so if another person sees us, I can act like I’m escorting you both.”

“But what do we do about the body? If another peacekeeper walks by and sees it they’re gonna sound the alarm.”

“It might be too late for that.” Wonwoo said. “Far too late.”

Vernon and Mingyu looked over to see what Wonwoo meant. At the end of the hall a crowd of peacekeepers were gathered. It seemed they no longer had the advantage.

“Go.” Wonwoo stated. “I’ll keep them busy and catch up with you later.”

“Wonwoo-”

“Now!”

Mingyu was already pulling Vernon down a different hall, but the boy was fumbling with his phone. Before Wonwoo was completely out of view Vernon activated the sprinkler system on the floor. It would help Wonwoo out since the peacekeepers wore goggles and the water would mess with their vision. Hopefully they’d meet up later.

Vernon found an alternative route to the elevator they needed to use, although it appeared their luck had really run out. A group of robots was marching down the hall towards them, someone else at the front of the group leading the way.

“I suggest you surrender now.” The other spoke. “But I’d prefer it if you don’t.”

“Run.” Vernon mumbled, looking down at his phone. “Go, now!”

“What? Vernon-”

“I’ll be right behind you, I just needed a second to hack into the robots.”

“I won’t leave you then.”

“Go get on that fucken elevator before they cut us off completely. You’ll be closer to the top on the tenth floor than the fifth!”

“Fuck.”

Mingyu knew Vernon had a point, so he bolted, feeling awful for leaving the other behind, for leaving them both. When he made it to the elevator he frantically hit the button, looking back, hoping Vernon managed to get him enough time. He pulled out his phone, opening up the link Vernon had sent so he could follow the route they had planned. Once the elevator arrived he got in and hit the button for the tenth floor, knowing he couldn’t wait around for the others. He let out a sigh of relief when the doors shut and he was moving. Things went south fast, but as long as he made it to his destination he trusted everything would work out.

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

“Get fucked!”

The robots were advancing on Vernon, but he tried not to let the panic overwhelm him. When he managed to hack them he laughed, making them stop in their tracks. He looked up at the other with a gleeful grin, having the robots turn around to make his point. The other seemed shocked by the sudden change.

“Thanks for the robots. Now I suggest you surrender and answer a few questions for me.”

“Impressive, but that’s not going to happen.”

“Wanna bet?” 

“Do your worst.”

Vernon smirked and ordered the robots to attack, knowing he could get this guy pinned in second. He sent two at him first, walking over himself since he knew this would be over soon. Although he wasn’t prepared for the punch the other guy threw, which actually knocked the robot back.

“Holy shit!”

Vernon stepped back and had all the robots attack, watching from a safe distance. It didn’t do him any good as the robots were beaten down and torn apart right before his eyes. The robots only managed to hit their target a few times, and it did nothing to slow them down. Vernon was frozen in shock as the other stalked up to him, a silver liquid dripping from his lip. He seemed to notice what Vernon was staring at, wiping his lips and laughing when he saw his fingers stained silver.

“I guess I need to go up to maintenance too. Don’t worry, I’ll take you with.”

One punch knocked Vernon out, and his unconscious body slid to the floor. The other stared down at him, finally relaxing after the whole ordeal. He knew back up was on the way, not that he’d need it. He looked around at all the robots, before sliding down a wall and sitting down to wait.

“Seungcheol’s gonna kill me.”

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

After dealing with the last one Wonwoo continued where he left off. At this point he was certain Vernon and Mingyu were no longer on this floor. It shouldn’t take too long to catch up. He pulled out his phone, following the path Vernon had laid out. Although upon rounding a corner he noticed the torso of a robot leaning against the wall, sparks flying from the damage. He proceeded cautiously, ready for another fight even if he was spent.

“I can hear you, so there’s no point creeping.”

The new voice caused Wonwoo to come to a halt. He knew whoever had spoken was just around the corner, although he wasn’t gonna lower his guard. He took a quick step into the next hall, seeing a bunch of robots torn to pieces, and Vernon passed out at the other end. Although his focus quickly shifted to the gentleman standing up, wincing in the process. Silver tainted his lips and nose, clearly exhausted, but Wonwoo was starting to put two and two together.

“Did you-”

“The robots? Yes, as for your friend, they’re just unconscious.”

“Who are you?”

“You ask as if I’m the trespasser here.” The gentleman chuckled. “The name’s Jun, and you’re Wonwoo, correct?”

“How do you know my name?”

“We’ve taken an interest in you, so it’s only proper we do our research. You’re strong, which explains how you handled the peacekeepers with ease. Very good.”

“What do you want from me?”

“That is something for you to discuss with another.”

“You mean the Maestro?”

“They’ve taken a special interest in you, yes.”

“Well I don’t care for that. I’m here for my friend.”

“You mean the girl? I assure you, she’s in good hands.”

“I doubt that if you went through the trouble of kidnapping her.”

“She came here on her own, just as everyone does.”

“Bullshit. Now tell me where she is.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened when you held Joshua’s wand? How did you feel?”

“…”

Jun scoffed. “You only got a taste before you were so rudely interrupted. Would you like to experience that again? To know what’s going on here. The answers might just lead you to your friend.”

As Wonwoo contemplated everything a handful of peacekeepers and robots surrounded him. Jun ordered everyone to stay away from Wonwoo, having the robots take Vernon away.

“The boy will be fine.” Jun assured. “What’s your choice then? Shall you come willingly or do you have to be restrained?”

“Who will I be meeting?”

“Escort our new friend Wonwoo here to the fifteenth floor. Oh, and Wonwoo, I recommend you don’t try anything funny.”

Wonwoo allowed the peacekeepers and robots to lead the way, having them before and behind him. Jun watched him go, struggling to keep his own composure. He stumbled when he took a step back, nearly falling to the ground only to be caught by a friend.

“Seokmin.” Jun smiled. “Hi.”

“Funny, just wait until Seungcheol sees you.”

“Don’t get me started. Just take me to his shop.”

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

By the time the doors opened Mingyu had put on the mask, dressed as a peacekeeper to hopefully help him hide. Yet he was met with emptiness. He stared down a gray hallway, dim lights illuminating his path. From what Vernon had said this place held a lot of power, yet he saw none of it. Perhaps it was some diversion so people avoided the floor. He checked his phone, and it told him to proceed, so he did. At the end of the hall he was met with a door. It seemed to be locked, but Vernon had already accounted for that, so when he held his phone near the door it unlocked. He slowly opened it and stepped through. Now he understood the major power report.

The silence of the empty hall was suddenly filled with the hums of machines. Rows upon rows of servers were at either side, but before him stood the real source. A set up with multiple monitors showed him live camera footage from multiple floors. Moreso a bunch of offline robots stood around the monitor set up, creating a daunting warning. Still, Mingyu ignored it all, taking off the mask and approaching the computer. He should be going off to the next elevator, but if he could find you on the cameras then he’d really know where to go and not need to chase after a ghost. He sifted through the cameras, but there was no sign of you, and none seemed to be the seventeenth floor.

“You were never in control, you know.”

Mingyu turned around to discover he was no longer alone. A familiar face stood before him, the director from the show, Seungkwan.

“You’ve come quite far. I doubt I can convince you to stop here.”

“Where is she?”

“In good hands.”

“I doubt that. Just give her back, and I’ll be on my way.”

“That’s not gonna happen. In fact, I’m still very upset about what you did to Joshua.”

“I’m not.”

“Good. I won’t feel bad watching you suffer.”

Seungkwan snapped his fingers, the robots around starting to come to life. Mingyu knew his only option now was to run, so he did just that. He followed the guide, moving as fast as he could to the elevator. He hurriedly pressed the call button until the doors opened. Once inside he repeatedly pressed the button for fourteen, but the doors didn’t close. Something was probably wrong with this elevator too, so he pressed the button for thirteen and he watched the doors close as the robots charged at him. Once again he let out a breath in relief. At least now he was following the original plan, and knew he was one step closer to the Maestro, and you.

It was quiet and empty again when the doors opened, and Mingyu didn’t hesitate to step out. From what he could see the last elevator was behind the theater itself. So he made his way down the aisle towards the stage, not caring to try and hide his face with a mask. There seemed to be no one else around, yet as he stepped up to the stage he heard the sound of a spotlight turning on, except it wasn’t at him. He stopped, feeling the eerie sense that he was no longer alone. When Mingyu turned around he saw the light pointed at another in the aisle, closer to the door. A moment ago he had been alone, but now he wasn’t. Although what drew his attention the most was the wand in the other’s hand.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

Vernon groaned as he regained consciousness, feeling the ache from that sucker punch. He was quick to realize he was tied up, hands behind his back and legs stuck together. He was propped up against a wall, but nothing around him seemed familiar. At least this wasn’t a place he had been to before, but all the cables and random tech pieces scattered around was certainly unexpected. A robo-dog suddenly came up to him, getting real close and staring at him, sending a chill down his spine.

“You know they’re harmless.”

Vernon’s gaze snapped away from the robot, looking for the source of the voice. His eyes soon landed on this guy walking towards the computer set up and taking a seat.

“You have potential, I’ll admit that. Figured out a way in here. It was fun to watch.”

“Wait, you knew we were here?”

“From the beginning. Don’t be so surprised though, I keep watch over this whole territory with my dogs. Although Seungkwan is internal security.”

“So you’re the one running the grid here? You reprogrammed the dogs to work for you?”

“Bingo. So tell me, you really broke into this place for some girl?”

“Where is she?”

“She’s fine, and well taken care of, I promise.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to, but it’s true. The name’s Dino by the way.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yet I do. Vernon, a freelance technician, making money doing all kinds of legal and illegal things. Would be a shame if someone reported you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You’d think, but not really. Why do you even do what you do, hm? Just to make some money and pay the bills? You could do so much better with your talents.”

“Why do you care?”

“You hacked into Jun’s little escort pretty fast and bypassed safety parameters so they’d attack a person. Then again those safety parameters were already diminished.”

“Let me guess, your doing?”

“No, no, my dogs and I run surveillance. The big clunky robots are Seungcheol’s department. He’s looking forward to meeting you, but he needs to attend to Jun first.”

“That guy does need a doctor.”

“Seungcheol works with robots, not people.”

“Wait, you mean-”

“Gotcha, didn’t I?” Dino giggled. “Jun’s a cyborg. He’s got a few mechanical parts here and there. You might have realized it if you kept snooping around, but you didn’t. It wouldn’t be easy to hack into his mechanical parts anyway. So just relax, the hyungs want to talk to you.”

“Talk to me about what?”

“An opportunity. You’re good, but you could be better.”

“I don’t want to join your little gang here.”

“You say that now, but you don’t know anything.”

“I know you kidnapped my friend, and are doing who knows what to the people you lure here.”

“Yeah, you don’t know anything. It’s always difficult to make people understand when they can’t hear the music. Maybe that’ll change soon.” Dino sighed. “Let’s go see the hyungs.”

Dino got up and grabbed something from a drawer just out of view. Vernon tried to see what he was doing, but he didn’t need to wait long.

“Behave.”

Dino walked back to Vernon with a metal collar, and leash in hand, a big grin on his face. Vernon tried to move away, but his restraints limited his motion. He wound up falling onto his side, getting a laugh out of Dino. The boy merely knelt down and grabbed a fistful of Vernon’s hair, pulling his head up to expose his neck so the collar could snap into place. He loosened the rope around his legs a bit so he could walk, and then attached the leash to the collar and helped Vernon to his feet.

“This is gonna be fun.”

Vernon followed alongside Dino, the boy holding the leash very close so he basically had to walk while hunched over. They went to a nearby elevator, and once inside Vernon noted they were on the eighth floor, and that this elevator apparently went all the way to the top.

“I know what you’re thinking. You never really hacked into our systems, we just let you see what we wanted. Besides, it was fun watching you all run around. Don’t worry we’re just going up one floor.”

With his hands behind his back any sort of action was limited, and he couldn’t even run in this state. When the doors opened Dino led him out, going down a plain hall. The floor seemed rather empty until they went through some double doors, revealing a whole workshop. Robots were all over the place, some just standing guard and others working on things. A few spare parts were lying around as well, but his focus was soon pulled to a table. The boy from before, who he now knew to be Jun, was sitting on it, a bunch of wires sticking out of his arm. There was another person next to him, looking at some monitors. Jun’s eyes were glowing blue, fading and growing bright, when he saw Vernon he smirked.

“Guess you’re not dead.”

“You weren’t trying to kill him, were you?” Dino questioned.

“Maybe. Although I bet Seungcheol wants to kill him.”

“Do not start, Junhui!” 

One of the others in the room snapped at Jun, which he presumed to be Seungcheol. The boy was pointing and yelling about Jun’s careless behavior. Jun seemed to be amused, although Vernon noticed the rest of the robots around were mimicking Seungcheol. It was strange and concerning, but he didn’t know what was happening.

“Do you have any idea how long it’s gonna take to repair those robots?” Seungcheol mentioned. “Days, Jun, days!”

“Don’t forget some were Seokmin’s designs.” Dino added. “So you’re not the only one who got screwed over.”

“You’re not helping!” Jun hissed. 

“Just saying. Also, hyung, you might wanna take a moment.”

Seungcheol looked over at Dino with a questioning look and the boy just gestured to their surroundings. That’s when Seungcheol noticed all the robots around moving as he did. He sighed and took a breath, and then the robots returned to their original task. Vernon still had no idea what had just happened.

“Why’d you bring that dog up here anyway?” The other in the room asked. “Do I get to hit him this time?”

“That’s enough, Seokmin.” Seungcheol cut in. “Just focus on Jun.”

“I know, I know.”

“You. Vernon, isn’t it? What are you doing here?”

“Don’t you know?”

“I have an idea, but I don’t know if that’s the truth. Answer me honestly and I’ll get the maknae to give you back your dignity and get that collar off.”

“What have you done with her?”

“That’s not the answer I was looking for.”

Seungcheol came over and grabbed the leash, pulling on it and making Vernon fall to his knees. After a moment Seungcheol knelt down and grabbed the boy’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. It was quiet for a moment, and Vernon could feel his resolve melting.

“You’re being a waste of talent. I admire you care so much for this girl, but have you stopped to realize that you’re probably not leaving this building ever again.”

“You gonna lock me up?”

“You wouldn’t be the first, but the circumstances would be different. Wanna try again to answer my question?”

“I’m here for my friend, is that good enough for you?”

“I suppose.”

Seungcheol got the collar off, returning it and the leash to Dino. He then helped Vernon get up, but the ropes would remain. He returned to Jun’s side, looking over the readings as Seokmin continued to examine the boy. The silence was awkward, but Vernon wasn’t done with the conversation.

“How… how is it that you run the CCTV here, that you have access to the robo-dogs and some robots as well. Your whole operation should have been shut down ages ago, yet here you are. I guess the better question is why.”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Are you gonna answer me?”

Seokmin chuckled. “We’re gonna change the world.”

“What?”

“Those in power won’t ever do anything that goes against the status quo. So we must do it ourselves.”

“Are you insane!? What reason-”

“Reason?” Seunghceol questioned. “Look at the world around you, do you think it’s fair as it is now? That it doesn’t require change?”

“So you’re gonna start a revolution by hacking into robots and killing anyone who gets in your way? Is that your great plan?”

“You’re not thinking big enough. Robots aren’t completely reliable, but human connection is.  All we have to do is reach those in power, and we’ll make them understand.”

“Ah, you mean the music, don’t you?”

“I see you’re not just savvy with technology. You were present for a show earlier today, so I suppose you do understand what we’re doing here.”

“You mean brainwashing people? Like you said, I was at your show, and I’m not under your control, am I? Your music is shitty.”

“Don’t insult the Maestro. The fact their music can enthrall people is reason enough for you to worry, isn’t it? There are already people out there who understand us, just like the peacekeepers we have here. After all, how do you think your friend came to our theater?”

“Leave her out of your plans!”

“She’s here of her own will, and she’s helping us. Soon enough our music will reach more people, especially the difficult ones such as yourself.”

“I guess you can’t hear how crazy you sound since you’re brainwashed yourself!”

“Unfortunately those of us here can’t truly understand the Maestro’s work. The melody is beautiful but I can’t truly feel its power. Only the Maestro and the conductors can, and our guests at the theater. One day though, we’ll all be on the same page.”

“You’re all crazy.”

“I think you’d be a great addition to our team, truly. Although the choice is ultimately yours. We can always place you in a cell on the fifth floor until the time comes. I’m certain your other friend, Wonwoo, will join us though.”

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“That depends, do you care to know more? Or can Jun knock you out again?”

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

The elevator ride was crowded for Wonwoo, completely surrounded on all sides. He wasn’t going to try anything, and even if he did he’d surely get pinned. Vernon said only certain elevators went to certain floors, yet the one he was taken to had access to all floors, even the sub-levels. Something else was definitely going on here. When the doors opened there was an empty hallway before him. Those in front of him stepped out and then he did so. Although once out the others returned to the elevator and left, leaving him alone.

For a moment he thought to press the elevator button again, getting himself up to the seventeenth floor, but his own curiosity was winning out. At the end of the hall there was a door, and he could feel something on the other side calling to him. Without realizing he was walking down the hall, reaching for the doorknob and opening it. A blinding white light overtook his vision, his senses needing a moment to adjust. He stepped through, surrounded by technology and machines he didn’t quite understand. It seemed he was alone, until a familiar voice broke through the silence.

“I’m glad to see you came back.”

“You… I… are you alright…? Before when we-”

“I’m fine.” Joshua assured. “What happened back then wasn’t your fault. Honestly, it was surprising for us too.”

“What… what did happen? You were screaming and-”

“It’s complicated. I’m sure you have many questions, and I will do my best to answer them.”

“… where’s y/n?”

“Ah, the girl. She’s alright.”

“Why… why did you bring her here?”

“She came on her own, as do all the guests at our theater.”

“I know that’s a lie. I saw robots escorting her here. The music you play has a certain effect on people. You turned the other guests against us at the show before. That’s what you did to her to lure her in, isn’t it?”

“You really want to talk about her?”

“She’s the real reason I’m here.”

“Then why didn’t you go up to the seventeenth floor? Not that you could, but you didn’t even try. You can ask anything and you want to ask about her?”

“Why are you so reluctant to tell me? Why not just take me to her and let me ask her if everything you’ve said is true.”

“She’s unavailable at the moment, but if you want to talk about her, then there are other things that need to be discussed first.”

“Which are?”

“You, for starters. Tell me, when you grabbed my wand.” Joshua pulled his wand out of his sleeve. “How did you feel?”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but stare. The feeling from before was starting to creep back up. He had no idea what it was, let alone explain it.

“… energy… whatever it was… it was alive… it was coming to me… and it didn’t hurt… it was… intoxicating… it was power…”

“It was music, the power of music, specifically the Maestro’s music. The conductors perform it and the effects remain. I’m sure you felt it.”

“The music is dangerous. What you did to those people, to y/n-”

“Creating connection and understanding. Those who truly listen to the music find happiness and purpose. You could feel it, couldn’t you? A sense of peace.”

“More like a high. All those people were at your mercy.”

“We have no ill intentions here. We’re just trying to change the world for the better. You’ve seen some of our recruits, I was quite impressed to see you take on that many peacekeepers all alone.”

“So that’s why they were here. How many people have you… recruited?”

“Many, hard to keep track of. The Maestro’s music is unique in its abilities, but it cannot reach everyone, not yet that is.”

“So what do I have to do with this? What of y/n?”

“You could understand the music, feel its power, like myself. It means you’re special. Only the Maestro’s conductors can listen to the music and perform it. The Maestro themself is focusing on creating new compositions to bring more people in, so we conductors lead the show. You have the potential to be one, a conductor that is.”

“Me?”

“Only a conductor feels the power of the music. The wand is a means of commanding that power, and you felt that when you held mine. You could have your own. A few upgrades and some practice and you could do your own show.”

“Why would I join you?”

“The question is why wouldn’t you? Like you said, that power was intoxicating. You’ll never get another taste otherwise. Besides, your friend is with us now. You can speak with her yourself later, but right now I need your answer.” Joshua held out his wand. “Will you be joining us?”

“What if I say no?”

“I doubt that’d be your answer, but if you truly refuse, you’ll be locked up. We can’t have you causing trouble and getting in our way. So, what will it be?”

“What happens after… if I say yes?”

“There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

“… show me.”

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

“The name’s Minghao, shall we play?”

A moment ago Mingyu was staring down at someone who seemed to be a conductor, yet they weren’t on stage nor did they have an audience. It seemed like it would be a quick and easy fight, but as Mingyu took a step down everything seemed to change. The lights went out, covering him in darkness. A moment later red lights began to shine, and a light from below illuminated the conductor. Instead of a wand he had a violin, and the red lights were emanating from it as he played. Although there wasn’t any sound, at least not at first. Minghao smiled and continued his song, then a moment later Mingyu heard an ear-piercing screech.

He yelled and covered his ears, falling to his knees. He took in a deep breath, trying to adjust to the sound, but that wasn’t his only problem. Out of the corner of his eye he could see robots entering the theater, and he knew what the outcome would be if he got caught. He needed to think fast, and figure out a way out of this. His eyes landed on the mask he had dropped, the peacekeeper one. Perhaps that could help him. He reached for it and slipped it on, trying to figure it out while the screeching continued. The system wasn’t too complicated and he managed to adjust the hearing and block out the Minghao’s song. He could only rest for a moment as the robots were closing in.

Mingyu jumped into the nearest row to avoid getting grabbed. He would have bolted straight to Minghao, but a few robots would stop him. He needed to figure something else out, although he stumbled in his steps when Minghao changed his tune and he heard the screeching again. He had to fumbled around with the mask controls again so he wouldn’t be incapacitated.  Once he was good he looked over to see Minghao wasn’t even watching him, but more focused on the music, clearly not affected by the melody the same way he was. He continued to move around and avoid the robots, trying to think of a plan. He looked at the settings on the mask to see if anything was helpful.

Besides the night vision there didn’t seem to be anything else the mask could do. Although he soon discovered he could control something else with the mask. All peacekeepers kept a baton with them, something he had taken as well. One would think it was normal, but from what Mingyu was seeing it had a stun option. He put the electricity to the highest voltage it could go and then activated. Surely with a weapon like this he could deal with the robots and get to the conductor. He didn’t approach any of the robots, wanting them to come to him so he could strike the best he could.

He was nervous with the first robot, knowing very well if this failed he was screwed. The first swing made contact with the robot’s head, causing an explosion of sparks, and the robot was knocked down. It seized and certain parts were shooting out sparks, but it seemed to be down for the count. Mingyu was satisfied with his new weapon, not afraid to take on the rest of the robots around him. He didn’t want to get cornered so he continued to move around, trying to get closer to Minghao while taking down robots and making sure the music didn’t throw him off. At one point he came face to face with two of the machines and stung at the closest one. Although his baton went right through it and the robot itself disappeared.

The moment of confusion cause him to let his guard down and the other robot, which was real, managed to grab him. He struggled in their grasp, managing to press the baton against its torso and get free. Now he had a new problem, not all the robots around him were real, and he had no way to tell them apart. His eyes focused on Minghao, starting to realize the music wasn’t just to mess with him and control the robots, but possibly causing these hallucinations as well. The only way to end all this was to take him down. Mingyu took in his surroundings, planning out the best route and executing it. 

He dodged as many robots as he could, and took down those in his way, reaching Minghao and tackling him to the ground. The other had realized too late that Mingyu had gotten close, getting pinned to the ground. The moment the music stopped everything changed. The theater was no longer pitch black, and there was no violin. Minghao was holding his wand and glaring up at Mingyu while he tried to free himself. Although Mingyu had a goal in mind, keeping Minghao pinned as he snatched the wand out of the other’s hand, taking off his mask.

“Let’s see if the same trick works twice.”

Mingyu snapped the wand in half, causing Minghao to scream in agony. Mingyu had no idea why that was the reaction, but he didn’t care for it. He threw the pieces to the side and made his way back to the stage. The lights suddenly went out again and he stopped, Minghao’s screams fading away. He looked back to see something glowing in the darkness, but the sound of the stage lights turning on caught his attention. He went up to the stage, seeing it was illuminated, and that someone was present. This new conductor took a bow, and then he found himself yanked up into the air by some unseen force.

“Welcome to the stage.”

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

“… where am I…?”

As you regained your senses once more you realized your environment had changed again. You were no longer in the theater, but a much brighter place. Different types of machines surrounded you, and you were sitting on some sort of examination table. You carefully got off, needing a moment for your legs to adjust. You tried to remember how you got here, but it was all a blur and thinking about it gave you a headache. Regardless of what you remembered, you knew that you needed to leave. You began walking around, looking for an exit. You thought you were alone until a rather familiar voice startled you.

“Welcome.”

You jumped and looked back at the source, seeing a boy with white hair, the one from the theater. They offered you a smile and bow, the same glowing wand in hand. You swear a moment ago there had been no one else present, and yet suddenly he was here.

“… hello…”

“Apologies for skipping parts, but I’ll introduce myself now. My name is Hoshi, welcome to the Metronome Theater.”

“… how did I even get to the theater? I was working and then…”

“We had some of our robots escort you here. The Maestro is eager to meet you.”

“The Maestro? Who’s that? Why… why me…?”

“You’ve heard them play the piano before, haven’t you?”

“… piano… you mean that was coming from here?”

“Yes. Not many can hear the Maestro play the piano, which is why they brought you here.”

“I don’t understand…”

“I assure you there’s nothing to be afraid of. Come, they’re waiting for you.”

Hoshi gestured for you to follow them, and you hesitantly took a step forward. You should have asked to leave, yet those words never came from your mouth. You were more curious about this Maestro and the piano you had heard. Many times when you told the others they had no idea what you were talking about, and this was proof you weren’t hearing things. So you followed Hoshi, wanting to know more. You came over to an elevator, stepping inside and seeing the button for seventeen light up. Hoshi merely smiled at you.

“You… you said not many can hear the piano… who else can hear it?”

“As far as we know, it’s just you and me.”

“You hear the piano too?”

“I’ve been the only one for a long time. It’s why the Maestro was so eager to meet you.”

“But how did you find me?”

“We have eyes and ears everywhere.”

“But down in the theater… what happened?”

“I assure you the Maestro will explain this all to you.”

When the elevator doors opened Hoshi gestured for you to step out, and then led you down another hall. You came to some double doors and then they opened on their own inviting you in. The room was grand, and quite empty, with no real furniture around, but what stood out was the piano. A gentleman was playing, the melody instantly captivating you. Your feet moved on their own, walking closer and closer to the piano, only stopping when the music did too. The gentleman stood up, greeting you with a smile.

“Hello, I’m the Maestro of the theater, but you may call me Woozi.”

“It’s… it’s a pleasure to meet you…”

“Likewise. I’ve been looking for someone like you for a long time.”

“Like me?”

“You’re very special my dear, come, would you like me to play for you?”

Woozi came over to you and took your hand, leading you over to the piano. He had you sit, taking a seat next to you. He let you run your fingers along the keys before he started playing. There was something incredible about hearing the music so up close and personal. Your body swayed from side to side a bit, watching his fingers work. Occasionally Woozi would glance your way, able to play without fully seeing the keys. You didn’t know how much time passed as you listened to the beautiful melody, but it was suddenly rudely interrupted.

A screeching, feedback loop, type sound snapped you out of your daze, causing you to place your hands over your ears. You screamed, doubling over and falling to the ground. Despite the pain you became aware of something else, feeling this small metal disc against your head, and ripping it off. The pain immediately began to subside, allowing you to breathe. Although you couldn’t say the same for the other. Woozi was still in pain, stumbling around but ultimately falling to his knees.

“Hoshi! Find Joshua, now!”

A moment later Woozi seemed to calm down, getting back on his feet. You on the other hand remained where you were, unsure of what had just happened. When Woozi noticed you he put on a smile and made his way over, although you crawled back and he stopped.

“You have nothing to be afraid of. Are you alright?”

“What just happened… who are you… what’s going on…?”

“Take it easy. I can explain everything.”

Woozi reached out his hand to help you up, but you were reluctant to take it. He seemed to understand and knelt down, grabbing the little disc off the floor. He examined it before reaching over to put it back on your head but you swatted his hand away.

“What are you doing?”

“Truth is, I need your help, y/n.”

“Me? For what?”

“To change the world, to save it.”

“What?”

“There’s no music out there, no passion, no joy… I want to change that.”

“How?”

“Maestro.”

Hoshi interrupted, seeming to have appeared from nowhere. Woozi gave you a smile and went over to the other.

“What happened?”

“Some intruders in the theater rushed the stage and broke Joshua’s wand. He’s stable now and is being taken to the medical floor. As for the intruders, they’ve been thrown out, and the theater is currently locked down.”

“Good. Keep an eye on the situation.”

Woozi dismissed Hoshi and turned his attention back towards you. Before you could say or do anything you heard the sounds of a piano, a recording that is. You began to feel at ease, the melody washing away your tension and worries. Woozi came to your side, placing the disc back on your head and you felt a little spark of electricity coarse through you. Then he helped you to your feet and brought you back over to the piano.

“As I was saying before, my music is special, able to reach a person in a way nothing else can.” The music stopped, giving you a moment to regain your senses. “But it can’t reach everyone, not yet that is.”

“What did you do to me…”

“It’s rather difficult to explain, but my musical composition is able to lull people into a sort of trance, like putting them under a spell. Although it doesn’t work on everyone.”

“I… I still don’t understand what this has to do with me…”

“The piano is one of my greatest instruments. Yet for the longest of time it seemed that no one could truly hear the melody besides Hoshi, then you came along. I need your help in understanding what it is that draws you in. Specifically your brain waves, and how they react to my music.”

“Then… the device on my head…” You slowly reached up to it. “It’s monitoring my brain waves?”

“Recording them, yes, with your help I’ll be able to share my music with the world.”

“But if you’re… putting people… under your control then-”

“I don’t have any ill intentions. I just want to bring music back to the world, to bring peace.”

“… what if I refuse to help…”

“I’ll be honest, you don’t have a choice. You won’t find a way out of this theater, and as you know my music can start playing at any moment. Many of the robots and robo-dogs have been modified with speakers. You can’t escape.”

“… oh…”

“I want your help willingly, but I won’t let you leave either.”

“I understand…”

“You don’t have to be mentally present if you don’t want to.”

“I’m sure things will be better if I am. I also want to know what’s truly going on.”

“Thank you.” Woozi took your hand and kissed it. “I’ll continue playing now.”

There was still a lot on your mind. You were worried about your friends, but Woozi made it very clear you were stuck here, at least for the time being. Of course all your concerns were washed away when the music started playing. You were helpless to resist, finding yourself on cloud nine while you listened, the time passing by without meaning. When you finally had a chance to regain your senses you found yourself alone at the piano. You could vaguely make out voices around you, but you were focusing on getting your head on straight.

“Dino is monitoring the situation.”

“Thank you, Hoshi.”

Once your head wasn’t spinning you got up, looking over to see Woozi by himself. You swore you heard Hoshi before, but it was just the two of you in the room.

“You back with us?” Woozi questioned. “How about a tour? The others would like to meet you.”

“Others?”

“I don’t do this alone.”

Woozi hooked his arm around yours and led you back the way you came, or at least that’s what you thought, there was no way to tell. You came to an elevator, Woozi hitting the button for the eighth floor. It was a quick trip and once you arrived Woozi led you down a hall. You came to a huge room full of monitors, seeing the outside world, some still images and others in motion. There was a gentleman at a desk, browsing through some of the screens, but upon hearing you two he stood up to greet you.

“Maestro, what brings you down here? I see you have a friend.”

“This is the girl I was telling you all about. Y/n this is Dino, our eyes and ears.”

“Ah, nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

“So you… like, run security here?”

“No, that would be Seungkwan. I keep an eye on things outside the theater. I was the one who found you, fascinated by a piano that no one else could hear. I’m quite jealous, I’ve always wanted to hear the Maestro’s music.”

“It doesn’t affect you?”

“Unfortunately not, but you’ll be able to change that.”

“You really think so?”

“I believe so.”

“Hoshi told me what you were up to earlier.” Woozi mentioned. “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, although we might have some guests soon.”

“Prepare for them.”

“Will do.”

“Let’s go meet some of the others.” Woozi said. “Come now.”

You merely went up one more floor, to the ninth, coming to a much different area. There were parts and machinery all around, kinda like some workshop. Many robots were around as well, seeming to be working on different things. You were quite fascinated as this reminded you of home, and the mess of electronics Vernon always left lying around. There were two gentlemen in the room talking, but their conversation ceased when you two entered, both greeting Woozi.

“It’s nice to see you as well. This is y/n, our special guest, y/n, this is Seungcheol and Seungkwan.”

“Hello…”

“Seungcheol works with the robots we have here, and with Seungkwan, who is in charge of security here.”

“I… I think I saw Seungkwan earlier… at the theater.”

“Yes. I’m also the director. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

“I did. May I ask what goes on here? This is a shop, isn’t it?”

“It’s my shop.” Seungcheol explained. “I work on some robots, a bit of cosmetic work but mostly programming. I have an implant that connects me to the robots in our network which makes it easier to do my job.”

“So you build robots here? I thought only the government did that.”

“I don’t make them, just some modifications, but Seokmin does create some pretty unique robots. You’ll like his workshop.”

“Speaking of.” Woozi interrupted. “Why don’t we go see him.”

Another elevator trip, this time going up to the twelfth floor. Just as Seungcheol said, this place was another workshop, although there were far more robot pieces lying around. You thought maybe other robots would be around, but there were only a few. If you didn’t know any better you’d think the floor was abandoned, but Woozi led you through everything with purpose, knowing exactly where to go. It wasn’t long before you came across another person, another two. One was lying on a table, and the other at the side looking at a computer screen. Without saying anything the one at the computer stopped and looked back, smiling at Woozi.

“Maestro, what brings you here?”

Then the person lying on the table sat up, startling you a bit, but they quickly apologized. You assured them you were fine, and apologized yourself as you didn’t mean to intrude on whatever they were doing.

“So this must be the girl you mentioned before.”

“It is. Y/n, meet Seokmin, and Jun.”

“Hello…”

“You’re very pretty.” One commented. “I’m Seokmin, and this is my shop.”

“Yes, Seungcheol mentioned it to me, he said you build robots.”

“I do. The Maestro is kind enough to let my imagination run wild.”

“What do you make robots for?”

“No real reason at all, it’s just fun. Besides, my skill set is very helpful for Jun.”

“Jun? Why?”

“I have a few robotic parts myself.” Jun explained. “So that leaves Seokmin, and Seungcheol, as my doctors.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

“Just doing some routine maintenance now.”

“I never would have thought you were a cyborg.”

“My handsome face hides it well, right?”

“I worked on that face so I can take partial credit.” Seokmin joked. “I used myself as inspiration.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Since you two are busy, we’ll leave you then.” Woozi said. “Shall we.”

Everyone you had met so far was interesting, and it made you wonder how they all wound up here. Although now you were very curious about one in particular. So you decided to ask as you made your way to the next floor.

“May I ask something?”

“Hm?”

“What happened to Jun?”

“Peacekeepers. He stole something and they hunted him down, beat him to a pulp and left him for dead. It happened in my area, and I wasn’t just going to watch the boy die. My people brought him here and fixed him up. He had some severe wounds which required different treatment, with his consent of course.”

“So… those that are here… they know what you’re doing, right?”

“Of course.”

“And they’re okay with it? They’re on board?”

“Yes. They understand what I’m trying to do here and believe in my cause. They’re here to help me, and I appreciate them.”

“They’re here because they want to be, yet I can’t leave.”

Woozi chuckled. “You’re a special case.”

The doors opened and you arrived to the fifteenth floor, where you had originally woken up. It made you a bit nervous to be back here, but Woozi seemed calm as usual. Last time you were here it was quiet and felt abandoned, but now you could hear machines operating, and a few muffled voices here and there. It seemed that you were heading towards those voices as they got louder and louder. You came over to a group of people, seeing a gentleman lying in bed, two others at his side and Hoshi looking at the monitor.

“Maestro, you’re here.”

“How is he?”

“Stable and recovering.”

“And the rest of you?”

“Fine. Although we should be asking you. The sudden disruption-”

“I’m alright.”

“And her?”

All eyes suddenly turned to you, making you nervous. Although now that you had their attention you realized the gentleman dressed in black seemed familiar.

“I’m okay… but what… what are you talking about…?”

“I haven’t explained all that yet.” Woozi admitted. “We can do so now while you get examined.”

“Me?”

“Yes. You can have a seat over here.”

You were led over to one of the beds nearby, taking a seat and having Woozi remove that little chip on your head. While that happened the gentleman in black asked a question.

“Did you enjoy the show?”

“Ah, yes, it was lovely… uh… I hate to ask… but have we met before?”

“I would say so. I’m Jeonghan, I was the conductor for your show. This is Minghao, and our friend who is recovering is Joshua. You’ve met Hoshi, right?”

“I have. Then, are you all conductors?”

“We are.”

“So what happened to Joshua?”

“You felt it earlier.” Minghao commented. “That shrieking. Some bastard broke Joshua’s wand.”

“The conductor wand?”

“Yes. They’re much more than they seem.”

“But why would breaking that hurt him?”

“We’re all connected here.” Hoshi mentioned. “Through this neural network and the Maestro’s music. The conductor’s wand serves as a way to keep them connected, while also allowing them to access the true power of the music.”

“It’s more like it flows through us.” Jeonghan explained. “And we can manipulate it from there.”

“You mean control people.”

“One can do much more with lots of practice and patience.”

“Like what?”

“You’ll see.”

From what you could tell Woozi was downloading the contents from the chip, your brainwave readings. Your eyes lingered on Joshua as he laid in bed. You remembered the headache from before, so you couldn’t imagine what he had felt if he wound up unconscious. Although a moment later the boy jumped up from the bed, clearly panicked. The others held him down, hoping to keep him from hurting himself. Hoshi gently placed his hand behind Joshua’s head and the boy seemed to calm down.

“You’re alright.” Jeonghan assured. “The others are fixing your wand and Hoshi is keeping the connection stable.”

“Where are they…”

“Gone. So don’t worry about them.”

“They were looking for-”

“We know. You can say hello.”

“Huh?”

Jeonghan gestured over to you, and Joshua’s eyes followed, seeming to be surprised. He offered you a weak smile, trying to figure out some words.

“Hello… you doing okay?”

“Uh, yeah. Are you?”

“I’m fine. How do you feel though? How was the music?”

“Beautiful. It lingers in the back of my mind.”

“You should let me perform for you sometime.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

“I’ll give you a show as well.” Minghao added. “So look forward to that too.”

“Alright. I will.”

“The data looks promising.” Woozi stated. “Shall we move on to the next phase?”

“Next phase? What’s that?”

“It will be much easier to monitor you when you’re directly connected to our network.”

“Wait, you want to put something in my head? Like an-”

“It won’t hurt at all. Honestly you’ll be-”

“No, no I said I’d help you with this but-”

“This is part of it.”

“But… I…”

Minghao came over to your side and held out his wand. You stared at it confused, not sure what he was implying.

“Since you’re the Maestro’s special girl, you’ll be able to feel the power before you’re fully connected. Go on, grab it, tell me how you feel.”

You hesitantly grabbed the wand, not feeling anything at first and then it slowly began to hit. You felt this warmth starting to grow inside you, to spread and open up your senses. The melody in the back of your mind was starting to become clearer and you could remember its beauty. Perhaps this feeling was like getting high, and you couldn’t help but giggle. Although the feeling didn’t last long as Minghao took the wand back, quickly leaving you feeling cold.

“Wait-”

“Sorry, but since you’re not in our network it’s dangerous for you to hold a wand for too long. But I’ll tell you this, that feeling will only be better once you join us.”

“This is all really starting to sound like a cult…”

Minghao chuckled. “If you want to see it that way, but the Maestro is right, we need you.”

“And I can’t refuse…”

“Do you want to? Leave that is. Do you think you could walk away now? You’d probably still hear the Maestro’s music playing out in the streets. Could you resist the urge to come back?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“I do.” Jeonghan admitted. “I tried walking away, but you can see how that turned out.”

“What… what’s gonna happen to me?”

“Right now I need to administer a sedative.” Woozi explained. “You need to be in a relaxed state both physically and mentally before we can begin the procedure. Then you’ll just sleep. When you wake, well, I can’t really describe the sensation since it’s always been with me. Although I’m sure one of my conductors can.”

“It feels like truly waking up.” Joshua recounted. “You realize that you were never actually awake until that moment. Your senses are heightened, and you can feel this energy in the air. The feeling only grows stronger when there’s music and it creates this harmony within you. It might not be easy to understand the Maestro’s music or intentions, but once you reach this deeper level of connection it all makes sense. You feel bits of it now, and that’s what draws people to the theater. It’s what ultimately brought you here.”

“Oh…”

“May we begin?” Woozi asked. “Or do you need a moment?”

“No… you can start.”

Woozi gave you a smile and stepped over to a table near the bed. He grabbed a needle and vial, filling the needle. You watched intently, starting to feel a bit nervous. He asked for your arm, which you gave, watching as he stuck the needle in you and emptied out its contents. Afterwards he had you lay down, telling you that you’d feel the effects soon.

“I’ll go get Seokmin, I’ll return shortly.”

Minghao offered to go with Woozi, needing to talk to him about something. Jeonghan took over from there, attaching some patches and wires to you. Hoshi came to the other side, looking over the monitor. All this was making you more uneasy.

“Wait… wait-”

You reached over to grab Hoshi’s arm, only for your hand to go right through him like he was some sort of ghost. You looked up at him with wide eyes, glancing at your hand as if something would change.

“… you… you’re not real…”

“I am.” Hoshi assured with a smile. “I’m just not physically here.”

“… what… what happened?” You asked. “I… I’ve been curious about you… with everything Woozi said…”

“Hm. Shall I tell you a story while you drift off?”

“Okay…”

Hoshi glanced back at the monitors, making sure everything was alright. Then you noticed a chair roll over to your bedside, Hoshi taking a seat. You knew he wasn’t physically present but he was trying to seem as normal as possible.

“I’ve known the Maestro since we were kids, we grew up together. He always had an affinity for music, and we’d do our best to scavenge for instruments or parts to make our own. Neither of us realized at first, but when he played, he drew me in. This energy surrounded him, making it seem like the world wasn’t such a bad place. Eventually the Maestro became aware of how I’d get when he played, he was worried but I assured him I was fine and wanted to hear more. That’s when he started performing for others. Many who heard his music had a smile on their face, and the world seemed like a better place. I believe he would have been content just playing on the streets for random strangers, but you know the city. One day peacekeepers came, and I couldn’t let the Maestro get hurt. I told him to run and I took the fall.”

“I was hurt badly and left for dead. When the Maestro found me again he feared he would lose me. Everything was hazy, but somehow the Maestro got help, and that’s how he met Seokmin. They stabilized me, but I wasn’t exactly conscious. I wasn’t very responsive, but apparently I still reacted to the Maestro’s music. It gave him hope, and so they tried something else to help me. The Maestro met Seokmin’s friends, Seungcheol and Dino, and they put something in my head, letting me project my consciousness outside my body. The guys did a bit of adjustments and here I am.”

Despite everything you had been told you couldn’t help but reach up, wanting to touch Hoshi’s face, but once again your hand just went through him. Hoshi chuckled, giving you an amused look.

“Sorry.”

“… where… where is your body?”

“Somewhere in this building.”

“… are you okay?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while but I’m making progress. I’ll be up on my feet soon.”

“Woozi really cares about you…”

“He does.”

“Because… your situation… is that why he needs me?”

“Yes. Although I know you would have come here eventually. The music is so beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…”

“You should close your eyes and sleep. I’ll have a surprise for you when you wake up.”

A small smile appeared on your lips, and you gave a little nod. It was already a bit of a struggle to stay awake, so you closed your eyes and let yourself sink into the darkness. You were still nervous, not knowing what would happen, but by now it was far too late to object.

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

“If I agree… do I get to see y/n?”

“That could be arranged.”

“Fine. I’ll see what’s going on with your cult.”

“Not a cult but-”

Seungcheol groaned and grabbed his head, falling to his knees. Jun also screamed and fell back on the table, thrashing around a bit. Even the other two seemed to be suffering from some sudden headache. Vernon was left unaffected, and he had seen this scene before, back at the theater. Although he had no idea what was going on. He thought to use this chance to get out of his restraints and try to escape, but Dino wasn’t affected as badly, so he knocked Vernon down to the ground. A moment later it seemed the headaches had passed, and they were all recovering.

“I should probably go check on our guest after this.” Seokmin commented. “Take care of Jun.”

“Yeah. We’ll follow shortly.” Seungcheol assured.

“Wait, guest?” Vernon questioned. “You mean y/n?”

“Maybe.”

Seungcheol checked in on Jun, seeing the boy was just catching his breath. He looked over his vitals again, assuring the boy he was fine. They all were.

“What happened to you all just now?”

“It’s complicated, but we’re fine.”

“Are you? I saw this before with Joshua, the conductor, when his wand broke. Why the hell does that hurt, why does it hurt all of you?”

“We’re connected.” Seungcheol admitted. “And you’ve been interfering with it, but if you’re truly on our side, you won’t be a problem anymore. I can’t say the same for your friend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’ll see.”

Vernon was still uncertain about everything, but he knew he had to go along with this to see you. By now his own personal curiosity had also taken hold and he wanted to know what was really going on in this theater.

“Our presence is requested at the theater. Let’s go.”

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

Wonwoo felt the pull of the wand, but despite Joshua holding it out for him, he was not allowed to touch it. There was some disappointment, but he wasn’t going to voice that. He had made his choice, and he wanted to see what came of it. Joshua smiled, glad by his decision and then led the way further into the lab. Wonwoo followed, not sure if he should speak, although he soon rushed past his guide. He came to another room lined with beds and noticed one was occupied, seeing you. He ran over to the bedside, taking your hand and calling your name, but there was no response.

“What did you do to her!”

“She’s fine. She’s merely resting after the procedure.”

“What procedure? What are you talking about?”

“She chose to join us, and thus became part of our connection. It’s a painless procedure. One you’d surely participate in if you’re serious about your choice.”

“When will she wake?”

“Soon. Hoshi should be by momentarily to check on her.”

“Who?”

“You’ve seen him before.”

Wonwoo still didn’t really understand, but you were the bigger concern. He was mostly glad to have found you again, although this wasn’t the state he was hoping to see you in. A moment later he saw someone else approach the bed. He looked up to see another boy at your side, white hair, looking at the screens, and very familiar to Wonwoo.

“It’s you…”

“Hello. You won’t attack Joshua again, will you?”

“No… no… but you… how… how is she?”

“Stable. She took everything well, and should wake soon.”

“Are… are you the Maestro?”

“No, but I’m flattered. My name is Hoshi, and I’m the internal conductor.”

“Internal conductor?”

“The Maestro has a multitude of conductors to spread their music, but I do not leave the theater, and I keep everyone connected. I’m actually very glad to properly meet you. I have a proposal for you.”

“For me?”

“Yes. You have a strong connection to the Maestro’s music. You felt it during the show, moreso when you held Joshua’s wand. You have the potential to be a conductor, and your ideal physical state would make you a great one.”

“You want me to be a conductor?”

“You’ll come to truly understand what we do here, and wield power unlike anything you could imagine.”

“And why would I accept? You kidnapped my friend, and hurt the others.”

“I saw your little trio trespassing into the theater. We could have thrown you out, but we didn’t. In fact you would have come back on your own, the pull of the Maestro’s music is very strong. You came all the way here. Do you really think you can walk away now?”

“You-”

Wonwoo’s words were cut short as he heard a groan, looking over to see you moving and whimpering. He was excited to see you waking up, holding your hand tightly.

“Y/n, it’s me, can you hear me?”

It took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the light, but you thought you were dreaming when you saw Wonwoo. His familiar smile made you feel warm, and then you felt his hand, realizing this wasn’t a dream.

“Wonwoo… how…?”

“Hey, how are you feeling? Are you alright?”

“I… I’m fine… but… when did you… get here?”

“Your friends came looking for you.” Hoshi stated. “And I wanted to speak with Wonwoo.”

“Oh… is everything okay?”

“You tell me. How do you really feel?”

“I…”

Your senses were starting to come back to you, but it was certainly different this time. You could feel this energy in the air, but more importantly you could sense others. Joshua had this glow around him, as did Hoshi, but Wonwoo didn’t. You could sense the presence of the two, and then had a feeling in the back of your head of others close by. As you were lost in thought you saw Hoshi reach over to caress your cheek, and to your surprise you felt the warmth of his touch. You looked at him with wide eyes, reaching over to take his hand in yours. It didn’t feel like Wonwoo’s hand, but different. Almost like a ghost, just on the edge of physicality, like the flow of water or a cool breeze.

“How…?”

“You’re part of our network now, you’re connected to the rest of us so my essence is that much stronger for you to pick up on. Strong enough to be physical, even if just a bit.”

“It’s incredible.”

Wonwoo had been quietly watching the whole time, not really liking the situation. He reached over to move Hoshi’s hand, but he couldn’t touch the boy. His hand passed right through the other, confusing him as you appeared to be able to make contact.

“What is this…”

“Power.” You mumbled. “It’s in the air and everywhere. Only when you’re connected does it manifest into something more. Like the music. When you really listen to it, you open your eyes to a whole other world.”

“Very poetic.” Hoshi chuckled. “You’re very good with words.”

“I guess… but what did you want to talk to Wonwoo about?”

“The Maestro would like for him to be a conductor.”

“Really?”

“He has great potential.”

“That’s incredible Wonwoo.”

“I don’t know what any of this means, y/n.” Wonwoo reminded. “I only came here looking for you.”

“I’m sorry… I really wouldn’t have wanted to worry you, but things were out of my hands.”

“I’m sure they were, but we should get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving Wonwoo, I can’t.”

“What do you mean? What did they say to you?”

“They just told me about the Maestro, and what he’s doing. I want to help him.”

“You don’t know him.”

“Not truly, not yet, but I’ve seen enough to know that I want to help. There’s this energy, this warmth inside of me because of the Maestro and I know the world would be a better place if everyone could experience this. They’re not evil, Wonwoo. You should stay too actually. The things we could do.”

“I’m not so sure I understand what they’re talking about.”

“All the more reason to stay and find out. Together we-”

Your words were cut off as a searing pain overtook you. Wonwoo could only watch as you suddenly began to scream and thrash. He tried holding you down, hearing similar cries of anguish from Joshua. The boy had collapsed to the ground. Hoshi wasn’t as affected, seeming more irritated than anything else.

“What’s happening!?” Wonwoo yelled. “What did you do!?”

“It’s your friend who did this!”

Hoshi seemed to glitch out of existence, leaving Wonwoo alone to worry about you. He didn’t know what to do in order to help you, but the pain didn’t last too long. After a moment you seemed to calm down, although you were whimpering and seemed very out of it. Joshua stumbled to his feet, not in a good condition himself, but he was worried about you. He looked over at the machines, making sure all the readings were well.

“What happened?” Wonwoo asked again. “What was that?”

“Your friend broke another wand.”

“I don’t understand, will y/n be okay?”

“Yes. I’m sure Seokmin and Hoshi will be here any moment now.”

“Why are you on your feet?!”

Another boy suddenly came rushing into the room. He grabbed Joshua and sat him down on the nearest bed, getting him to lie down.

“I’m fine, Seokmin.”

“Sure you are. Not like you’re still recovering from the last incident.”

“I was checking on y/n.”

“I’ll do that, you just relax.”

Seokmin went over to the monitors, completely ignoring the other. A while later another rather familiar face showed up. The director, Seungkwan, came up, and Seokmin told him to look over Joshua. Wonwoo stayed quiet and watched Seokmin like a hawk, remaining silent until a needle was pulled out.

“What’s that for?”

“A minor sedative. She’s gonna need it in order to stabilize.”

“Where’s Hoshi?”

“Dealing with Minghao. I’m sure he’ll be back momentarily.”

“Are you sure she’ll be okay?”

“Have a little faith.”

It was good to see you at ease with the sedative. You weren’t unconscious, but you certainly weren’t all there. Wonwoo was glad to keep you company, listening to you tell him about the theater and the Maestro. He wasn’t sure if any of it was real, or just propaganda you had been fed. Still, he just wanted to make sure you were alright. Although you were asking him to stay, to take on the roll he had been offered, but it wasn’t that simple.

“You know Vernon and Mingyu are here too. We got separated and-”

“Vernon is with the others down on the ninth floor.” Seokmin interrupted. “As for Mingyu, who do you think is causing all this?”

“Oh…”

“He’s made it far enough.” Seungkwan added. “Jeonghan will deal with him.”

“Jeonghan?” You questioned. “What is he gonna do?”

“Nothing bad, I promise.”

“Let me talk to him. I can reason with Mingyu. He’s only here and causing trouble because he’s looking for me. Please.”

“Y/n.”

“I don’t want to be the reason something bad happens to anyone.”

“Let her.” Joshua cut in. “It would benefit all of us.”

“Fine. I’ll have the others gather around as well.”

“Where are you going?” Wonwoo asked. “Because I’m going with you.”

“To the grand theater on the thirteenth floor.”

♩. ♩. ♩. ♩. ♩ ♪ ♩ ♪ 𝅗𝅥.

“Put me down!” Mingyu screamed. “Now!”

“Why would I do that? You’ve been nothing but trouble.”

“You must be the Maestro then.”

“I’m honored, but no. My name is Jeonghan, the lead conductor. You should have stayed out, but you don’t seem all that bright. Since you didn’t learn from your past mistakes, I suppose it’s only fair to teach you properly.” 

Jeonghan got into place, as if he was performing, but there was no audience, and no orchestra. He didn’t need that.

“I’ve always wanted to perform this piece. I hope you like it.”

Jeonghan took a breath and closed his eyes, beginning his performance. It seemed rather funny at first, to see him leading the air, but then Mingyu began to hear it. A slow and steady rhythm slowly becoming audible. Mingyu had an idea as to where this was going, but before he could get the mask back on it was ripped from his hands and fell off stage into darkness. In a matter of seconds the music was loud and clear, but it wasn’t this shrieking sound. Instead it felt like this pressure in his head. Mingyu screamed, there was nothing he could do to make this pain go away. The pressure was gradually increasing so it was only a matter of time before he passed out. He had to do something.

With the bits of conscious thought he had left he tried to come up with a plan. Jeonghan was engrossed in his performance, eyes closed and moving with such fluidity. The only thing Mingyu had was the stun baton. He had one shot to use it, and if he failed it’d be all over. He focused on his plan, getting the baton and figuring out how to throw it before electrifying it. The task was complicated, but he didn’t have much time, so he took his shot. He aimed for the chest and electrified the baton, throwing it with all the strength he had. The pain grew worse so he couldn’t see the outcome, but hearing a scream and falling to the floor was answer enough.

Mingyu groaned from the impact, but he forced himself up. He stumbled as his body was aching and he had yet to properly regain his senses. Still he managed to get to Jeonghan, ripping the wand from his hand. Although before he could do anything Jeonghan had gotten the stun baton and hit Mingyu with it. Now the two were down and recovering from being electrocuted. The wand fell from Mingyu’s hand and rolled away, at least it couldn’t be used against him for the moment. Since Jeonghan had been hit first, he recovered before Mingyu, managing to get back on his feet. He held his hand out and Mingyu watched as the wand returned to him.

“Clever. Maybe you’re not all that dumb, but your game ends here.”

Jeonghan walked over to Mingyu, staring down at him before placing a foot on his chest. He put pressure and watched as Mingyu squirmed, attempting to get him off. When he managed to get some movement he used it to get out from under Jeonghan, rolling away and getting onto one knee. Before he did anything else he heard another voice and looked over to see that at the other end of the stage there was a boy with white hair, and a glowing wand in his hand. The same boy he had seen before.

“Enough.”

“I had this under control.” Jeonghan stated. “I didn’t require assistance.”

“That’s not why I’m here.”

“You must be the Maestro.” Mingyu breathed out. “What took you so long?”

“I’m not the Maestro, but I was sent here on their behalf. You’re not worth their time, but we’ve all had enough of you hurting us. Jeonghan.”

“I know.”

Before Mingyu realized it he was back in the air again, although not so high off the ground this time. The white haired boy walked over to him, glaring.

“Hoshi, stop!”

Despite your state you rushed onto the stage and grabbed Hoshi. Your hand slipped through him a bit, but he still moved because of your touch. His gaze shifted to you and softened. He wouldn’t act for now, you trusted that. Wonwoo stayed behind with Seungkwan, watching.

“Y/n, are you okay!?” Mingyu asked. “Did they hurt you!?”

“I’m fine. Can you put him down?” You asked Jeonghan. “Please.”

“I don’t believe that’s a good idea.”

“Jeonghan.”

“Do it.” Hoshi said. “We outnumber him anyway.”

Mingyu was gently let down, and as soon as his feet hit the ground he stepped towards you and pulled you into a hug. You were a bit amused by his actions, but didn’t mind. You hugged him back, assuring him you were alright.

“Everything’s okay. I’m sorry I made you worry.”

“I know it’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re okay. Let’s go now.”

Mingyu took your hand and started pulling you along to step off the stage but Jeonghan got in his way.

“You’re not leaving.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Mingyu, please don’t fight. Look, I don’t want to leave this place, I’m not going to leave.”

“What?”

“I know things didn’t go so well at first, but they’re not bad people.”

“They kidnapped you.”

“Not really. I came here because of the piano, because of the Maestro, and-”

“I know what their music does to people, and it’s clear you’ve been affected.”

“It’s more complicated than that.” Wonwoo cut in. “She’s made it very clear she’s not gonna leave.”

“So then you’re gonna stay with her? We were attacked by peacekeepers and robots, not to mention Vernon is still missing.”

“Not anymore.”

Wonwoo gestured out to the crowd as he saw the doors open. Vernon and a few others entered the theater. As soon as Vernon saw you he ran up to the stage, no longer restrained in any way. He came to you and embraced you in a hug. The trio that escorted him up remained out in the aisles, watching.

“They didn’t hurt you or anything, right?”

“No, not at all.”

“Good. So we can leave now?”

“Apparently not.” Mingyu stated. “She doesn’t want to leave. The music has gotten to her head.”

“Y/n, this place-”

“I’m not brainwashed or anything! Woozi told me what he’s doing here, and what I can do to help. So I’m not leaving. I’ve already explained some things to Wonwoo. You don’t have to leave either, you guys can help too.”

“I’ve already heard the story.” Vernon mentioned. “I’m not sure I’m on board. Being involved with a revolution, we’re practically signing our death certificates.”

“A revolution?” Mingyu questioned. “Is that what these nutjobs think they’re doing?”

“They’re not crazy.” You countered. “I know what they’re doing, and I know it’s gonna work. Woozi just needs my help so his music can reach everyone, including you guys.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here to be a pawn in their game. If they want to start a revolution, they can try, but none of us are taking part in it. Wonwoo, tell her this is crazy.”

“I don’t know…”

“So they got to you too. Vernon?”

“They’re kinda scary with the tech they got here…”

Mingyu scoffed. “I cannot believe you two. Are you seriously considering this?”

“I’m not so sure we have much of a choice anymore…”

“Then I’ll leave on my own.”

It really felt like this whole thing was all for nothing, but Mingyu wasn’t going to stay where he wasn’t wanted. Although Jeonghan stayed where he was.

“Move.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Jeonghan, just let him go.” You said. “I’m not gonna make anyone stay.”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“What?”

“The Maestro has no intention of letting any of you leave.”

Mingyu was suddenly up in the air again, Vernon as well. You glared at Jeonghan but he merely shook his head at you. This wasn’t his doing, but the Maestro’s.

“This is not what the theater is for.”

You looked back to see Woozi walking towards center stage, Minghao, Joshua, and Seungkwan at his side. Everyone was present now.

“Minghao, are you alright?” You asked. “A moment ago-”

“After the earlier incident we’ve created contingencies.” Minghao explained. “Much faster recovery time. Are you alright though?”

“Better now.”

“You should be resting.” Woozi stated. “Not down here.”

“I wanted to talk to my friends. Make them see reason.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“So it’s you then.” Mingyu cut in. “You’re the Maestro.”

“Yes, I’m the Maestro, and you’ve been trespassing.”

“I’m more than happy to leave now.”

“I’m sure you are, but that is no longer an option. You forfeit that when you set foot in my theater.”

“Look, I want nothing to do with your little revolution thing, so I’ll keep my mouth shut. You don’t have to worry.”

“But I do.”

Woozi brought Mingyu closer to him, bringing the peacekeeper mask to his hands as well. He examined it with an amused grin and then looked up at Mingyu.

“You went through a lot of trouble just to see me and now you want to leave. Kinda disappointing. If you want to play dress up though, how about I make it real. Why don’t you become one of my peacekeepers.”

“What?”

“I’m always in need of more peacekeepers. My music can only reach so many at the moment, but someone like you could lead them. You could actually embody the name they carry.”

Mingyu scoffed. “Are you seriously offering me a position when I already said I want nothing to do with you?”

“Your words are surely disappointing y/n, but I’m not asking. I know you’ll truly come around eventually. Same for Vernon.”

“What the hell are you talking about!?”

“Y/n cares about you. The last thing I want is for her to be upset.”

“Wait, Woozi, I don’t-”

“Hoshi.”

“Yes, Maestro.”

Hoshi came up behind you, placing a hand against your face. Your eyes went wide and your vision went dark. You felt this sudden warmth spread through you, calming your nerves and pulling your consciousness under into tranquility. Your eyes glazed over, starting to glow just as a few glowing veins spread around from where Hoshi’s hand made contact with you. His own eyes were glowing, completely engulfed in white.

“What the hell are you doing!?”

“Silence.”

One moment everything was normal, and then Woozi’s eyes were glowing, and the same had happened to the others. The conductors moved to the edges of the stage, silent and without emotion. Then they began moving in unison, performing a silent melody. Wonwoo felt a change in the air, something moving through the empty space, partially making him dizzy. He stumbled and took a step back, shaking his head to stay awake. Although he soon noticed Mingyu and Vernon were passed out, and dropped on the floor. The others had come to the stage, grabbing the two and removing them.

Wonwoo took a step forward, wanting to stop them, but that seemed difficult at the moment. He couldn’t reach either of his friends, and you were clearly unavailable as well. All he could do was watch, not understanding what was happening, but still being hit with this energy and staying put. Then Woozi glanced over at him, a smirk appearing on his face and walking over to the boy.

“That leaves you.”

Now Wonwoo knew he was stuck in place, those glowing eyes sending a chill down his spine. Everything in this theater had been strange from the beginning, but this was starting to let him know just how dangerous it was to be here. 

“You can’t fully hear my lullaby, but you can feel it, can’t you? Only those outside my network will be affected, but you are dancing the line.” Everyone spoke as one, following the Maestro’s lead. “You don’t have to worry about y/n. I don’t want her to remember any of this and I have the means to guarantee that. So it’s just you and me now.”

Just as Woozi said that he snapped his fingers, everyone else disappearing. Now it really was just the two of them but Wonwoo could still feel the energy in the air, feel this melody in the back of his head. The others weren’t really gone, just invisible to him now. He knew that for sure as Woozi’s voice continued to boom with the echo of everyone else speaking with him.

“… what… what do you want…”

“The answer is very simple.”

Woozi held his hand out, a wand manifesting out of nowhere, glowing brightly. It was just like the one Hoshi had. Woozi seemed to examine it for a moment before holding it out to Wonwoo.

“I could use a conductor such as yourself. Someone who will be much better at guiding y/n due to a personal connection. You are free to refuse, but not many can, not an offer like this.”

“Why ask if you seem to know the answer… did I ever really have a choice? Did anyone here?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Woozi chuckled, his laughter echoing in the theater. “Does it?”

“… no…”

Wonwoo reached out to grab the wand. It wasn’t like before, this energy felt stronger, and it hit him like a crashing wave. Everything around him seemed to stabilize, and those that had disappeared were back in view. The glow of the wand traveled down to his arm like veins, and he could feel them digging deep and planting roots within him. This sensation was only growing stronger, and he knew at that moment he’d never let it go.

“What do I do now?”

“Follow the Maestro’s lead.”

[joshanniesworld]

Beautiful Mistakes┃k.m.g

one | two | three coming soon!

pairing: kim mingyu x reader

summary: You have a crush on Mingyu, but unfortunately, he's your older brother's best friend. Not to mention that he only sees you as a little sister. So you're stuck between confronting your feelings, getting over your crush, or being forever single.

genre: romance, fluff, university au, brother's best friend

tags/warnings: fem! reader, unrequited love, university au, food mentions, basically filler chapter, kim mingyu because why not, mingyu doesn't appear much, older brother!Seungcheol, age isn't a thing because I suck at math, Hoshi flirting, low-key Verkwan but not really

word count: 1.4k

author's note: This is my first writing, so please go easy on me! The members' ages aren't specified, but basically, reader is younger than Mingyu and Seungcheol, but Seungcheol is older than Mingyu. I have no idea how many parts this will have. I'm just winging it, to be honest. Enjoy!

“Can you please leave? I’m working,”

“But I’m hungry…”

“Go somewhere else then.”

“You’re not gonna be somewhere else, though.”

You dropped your bag on one of the tables and walked up to the counter where the conversation was taking place. “Sorry, Vernon, he was annoying me because he was hungry.”

He looked like he wanted to strangle Seungkwan, but you knew he was secretly glad to see him. They were practically attached at the hip. “Whatever, just hurry up and order so you can leave quickly.”

“Vernon, don’t be mean to our customers.” One of his coworkers popped up from the back of the store and walked up to us. He had a black apron with a name tag with “Hoshi” written on it. “Sorry, we had a rush morning, and he has been cranky all day.”

“They aren’t customers. It’s just Seungkwan and Cheol’s baby sister,” he said, looking back at you. “And I’m not cranky.”

Hoshi looked surprised by Vernon’s words. “Wait, you’re Seungcheol’s baby sister? No way! I thought you were like twelve or something like that.” he exclaimed. “I mean, sorry, I just wasn’t expecting a pretty girl like you.”

You almost choked on air hearing his words, yet he seemed pretty pleased with himself.

“Pretty my ass, you haven’t seen her in the mornings.” Really, with friends like this, who needs enemies?

“Thanks, Seungkwan,” You gave him a sarcastic smile and turned to look at Hoshi. “Don’t worry; I get that a lot.”

He smiled sweetly and leaned forward. “Which part? The pretty part or the being twelve?”

“Ew, can you stop flirting with my friend?” Vernon complained and started pushing Hoshi back to where he came from. He didn’t seem bothered by Vernon’s shoving because he turned to look back at you and happily waved goodbye.

“Nice meeting you, Seungcheol’s sister!” With that, he disappeared. Vernon walked up to the counter and finally asked, “Okay, what do you guys want?”

“Your love.”

Good Lord. Vernon looked like he really was going to strangle Seungkwan this time if you didn’t leave soon.

“An Iced Americano, a banana smoothie, and two sandwiches,” You answered before someone committed a crime. “Make it to go.”

You liked world history. It was interesting, and your professor was pretty nice. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself three times a week before entering the classroom. But classes at seven in the morning shouldn’t be a thing.

“Hi sunshine, sleep well?” Jeonghan’s sweet voice interrupted your thoughts. He was drinking his usual morning coffee and was holding a delicious-looking banana muffin. The smile on his face annoyed you, but the muffin in his hand changed your mind.

“Can you tell?” You sighed and grabbed the muffin. One of the two things you looked forward to in every class. “You’re my savior. You know that?”

Jeonghan laughed while dropping his bag and sitting next to you. “Maybe I’m just collecting future favors.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

“So, where’s the love of your life?” he asked, looking around the classroom.

As if on cue, the other thing you looked forward to in class walked in.

Someone like Kim Mingyu should come with a warning sign.

When your older brother first brought him home, you didn’t think you’d end up in this situation. Mingyu and Seungcheol had met at university and got along well from the start. Both were business majors, and Mingyu even joined the same fraternity as your brother. It was funny how he seemed more like a sibling to Seungcheol than you did.

Your brother invited him one time to spend winter break at your house, and all your problems began. You initially thought he was just one of your brother’s loud and messy friends. But unlike most of Seungcheol’s friends, Mingyu was nice to you—not that his other friends weren’t. They mainly pretended you didn’t exist. Unlike them, Mingyu would ask about school or if you wanted to join them when they hung out. He always remembered to ask if you wanted food when they were ordering, and one time he bought you ice cream when you had a big fight with Seungcheol. Overall, Mingyu was a nice guy. The type of guy every girl seemed to like. So developing a huge crush was not an unlikely outcome after all.

“Are you even listening to me?”

You snapped out of your daydream and focused back on Jeonghan. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I was saying I don’t get what you see in him.” His eyes went to Mingyu, who was completely unaware of our conversation. “I mean, he’s okay. I’m definitely hotter than him.”

This time you rolled your eyes. “I don’t like him because he’s hot.”

“Right. The fact that he’s tall, tanned, and muscular doesn’t have anything to do with you liking him.”

“Okay, fine. He’s hot, and I like him,” you admitted. The man was gorgeous, and there was no point in denying it. “But I also like that he’s smart and nice. He’s clumsy too, but in a cute way, you know?”

“No, I don’t,” he answered, amused. “Why can’t you just ask him out?”

You looked at him as if he was out of his mind.

“He’s my brother’s friend,” you reminded him. “Doesn’t that go against the bro code or something? Because knowing Cheol, it does. He’d kill me or Mingyu, maybe even both.”

“That’s stupid. If you like him, you like him. I wouldn’t care if my sister liked one of my friends.”

Liar. He wouldn’t even let any of his friends breathe near Soobin.

“So you’d be okay with your friends liking your sister?” He thought about it for a second, and then realization struck him.

“No, never mind. Sorry, there is no hope for you.”

“I know. Thanks for reminding me. Anyway, pay attention to the class.”

Thankfully class ended quickly. You grabbed your things and practically rushed to the door, dragging Jeonghan.

“Hey, Y/N! Wait!” You stopped outside the classroom when you heard Mingyu’s voice. You gave Jeonghan a panicked look, who just shrugged his shoulders. Then, you turned to face Mingyu, who was walking with one of his friends.

“Mingyu, hi.” you awkwardly greeted him. He gave you a smile that almost made you melt.

“Hi, how’ve you been? I didn’t see you at the party last week.”

“Oh, right! I had to work a few extra hours, so I stayed home. I had to catch up on studying.” The truth was, you did work extra hours. You were not looking forward to seeing him flirt with some potential hook-up. Mingyu seemed to buy your lie.

“That’s a shame. Anyways, we’re doing a get-together on Saturday!” he looked at his friend as if he was asking for confirmation. His friend adjusted his glasses and nodded. “It would be nice to see you there. Studying is important, but you should have some fun too.”

“A get-together? Are you sure it’s not a party?” you asked unsurely. Mingyu chuckled and shook his head.

“Nope, just a few of us guys from the fraternity. A couple of girlfriends, and if you agree, then you,” he suddenly seemed to remember Jeonghan. “Oh, you can come too! Or another friend, whatever works.”

Jeonghan didn’t seem enthusiastic about spending his Saturday at a party under the name of “get-together.” However, your look must have won him over because he rolled his eyes and smiled tightly at Mingyu.

“Sure, I’m in if she is.” That seemed enough to please Mingyu.

“Great!” You chuckled nervously and nodded. “We’ve got class now. We’ll see you at the party! I mean, get together.”

“Right, see you there.” Mingyu grabbed his friend and started walking away. But not without smiling and waving goodbye enthusiastically.

“I’m going to kill you. I had plans for Saturday,” Jeonghan complained.

“What plans? Do nothing?”

“Precisely that.” You laughed and locked his arm with yours. “Please, I couldn’t say no, and don’t want to go on my own!” You practically begged him. “I’ll do anything you want.”

He quirked an eyebrow, and a mischievous smile spread on his face. “Anything?”

“Okay, maybe not anything.” He laughed and sighed, defeated. “Fine, I’ll go, but you’re buying me coffee for two weeks.”

“A week and a half.”

“Not going.”

“Okay, okay! Two weeks.”

Now you just had to mentally prepare yourself for whatever was to come.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

Love In Trouble [Part Six]

Fandom: Elvis Presley, American Musician, RPF

Pairing: Elvis Presley x Original Female Character, Austin Butler x Original Female Character

Characters: Elvis Presley, Original Female Character, Austin Butler, Red West, Sonny West, Jerry Schilling Colonel Tom Parker, Minnie Presley, Vernon Presley, Dee Presley, Joanie Esposito, Joe Esposito, Pat West

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4628

Summary: Lori Presley lives the high life. She has a lovely home, a elegant wardrobe and her parties are the most sought after ticket in town. Not to mention her husband is the King of Memphis. But what if she no longer wants to be the Queen?

Tags/Warnings: This is a mafia au with detective austin butler entering the chat, Memphis Mafia, Detective Austin Butler, Adultery, Infidelity, Love, Angst, Unhappy Marriage, Murder, Court Room Drama in the loosest possible way, AU, Set in the 70s

LINK TO ALL PARTS // LINK TO AO3 // LINK TO PINTEREST

Lori hadn’t slept. She hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t done anything except walk around the house aimlessly hoping to get her mind to engage with something other than worry, but it hadn’t worked. She’d heard her staff, her friends, her family, around her chattering away about what had happened. She’d been there as each phone call had come in informing her that another person had been hauled to the station at the crack of dawn just like her husband. She had been there every time Charlie had phoned for an update only to be told there wasn’t anything they could tell him and that Elvis was still being interviewed. She had been there when the front door had swung open, an eerie silence following those that entered. Though it wasn’t his house the colonel led the way, his cane thudding against the soft carpet as he headed into the living room. Behind him was a weary looking Vernon and then Jerry and Sonny looking just as fatigued. And pulling up the rear was Elvis. He was dressed as he had been this morning but the long stay at the station had left him looking bedraggled. His hair was out of place and his shirt had been unbuttoned, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

He looked tired and more importantly severely irritated; she could tell from the way his jaw was set. No doubt he would want nothing more than to head upstairs and ignore everyone but from the way the Colonel herded him into the living room that didn’t appear to be an option.

‘Are you okay?’ Charlie said, the first one to speak amongst the weary and the worried walking with Elvis as he moved to sit in an armchair by the fireplace, ‘we called the station but they wouldn’t tell us anything.’

‘M’fine,’ Elvis said as he sank down into seat.’

‘Yes, yes, he’s fine now get everyone in here,’ the Colonel said as he took a stand by the fireplace.

‘Boss?’ Charlie questioned, looking to Elvis for guidance. The room was already half full, those that had just come in taking seats amongst those who had been waiting for them to arrive, Lori, Charlie, Grandma, Billy and his wife jo.  Anyone else would be staff.

‘Everyone,’ Elvis confirmed. As Charlie scuttled off to collect the remaining stragglers Elvis looked to Lori who was sitting on one end of the couch looking nervous. She offered him a weak smile but he barely acknowledged it, turning to look at the Colonel who was now ready to speak since everyone was now in situ, staff loitering nervously by the doorway as if unsure of whether they were supposed to be there.

‘Now,’ the colonel said, taking his hat off his head and depositing it on the coffee table in front of him, ‘here's the situation. There has been an incident involving one of our employees at Kings and unfortunately he is no longer with us.’

‘That Bowen kid?’ Billy asked. Lori kept her eyes on the Colonel but she felt Elvis’ glance at her all the same.

‘Precisely,’ the Colonel confirmed, ‘now for whatever insane reason the local sheriff's department believes it to be related to us at Kings.’

‘Not Kings,’ Elvis said grimly, ‘me.’

‘But they’re wrong,’ Sonny said angrily, ‘ain't nothing to do with any of us.’

‘Even so as you know he’s been charged,’ the Colonel said.

‘Oh good Lord,’ Grandma Presley sighed, earning the first reassuring smile Elvis had offered, seemingly willing to make at least one woman in his family feel comforted.

‘So he’s going to need all the support we can give him,’ the Colonel said, ignoring the old woman as he continued to make whatever speech he had planned, ‘hopefully they’ll drop it but if they don’t we need to present a united front. Both here and at the club. So no speaking to the press or police without a lawyer present. If you’re asked for a comment, decline. Do not trust anyone who wishes to speak about it and refrain from speaking about it outside of these walls. Do you hear me?’

There was an unenthusiastic round of replies but the Colonel seemed content that he had gotten his message across and simply grabbed his hat, gesturing for Elvis to follow him upstairs to the office. Elvis rose slowly from his chair, ignoring the obvious urges of people wishing to speak to him before he silently slipped from the room and up the stairs.

‘You think he’s right?’ Jerry whispered, looking at Lori. He had sat down next to her but she hadn't even realised, her eyes never leaving the Colonel the whole time he’d been in the room. She looked taken aback at being spoken to, the words taking a second to register before she asked, ‘what?’

‘About it blowing over?’ Jerry questioned.

‘We have to hope it does,’ Vernon said, interrupting their conversation.

‘Vernon’s right,’ Charlie weighed in, ‘I mean what would we do without him?’

✵✵✵

Lori didn’t know how long Elvis had been in the office. Not that it mattered; an hour and ten minutes had felt the same all day like they spanned a lifetime. It was probably because she hadn't bothered to busy herself with raking over everything, instead she’d left them all chatting and speculating whilst she headed upstairs to their bedroom figuring that would be the next place he headed. She didn’t particularly want to hear the ins and outs of it, what they'd spoken about or told him. But what wife wouldn’t want to know what had happened? One that didn’t care? One that no longer loved their husband? Even if that were true she couldn’t be known as that. Elvis needed her and she couldn’t be seen to be distancing herself now could she.

She was sitting in bed when he entered, the door bouncing gently off the wall as it always did before closing roughly behind him. She watched as he stripped off, heading to the bathroom to clean up, the sound of the shower echoing into the room a moment later. When he appeared his hair was damp and pushed back, something he hated, and he was dressed in just underwear, again out of character for him. But he seemed too tired to do anything else, climbing under the covers beside her and sinking down with a weary sigh.

Lori sat up, placing her hand on his chest as she looked down at him sympathetically and asked, ‘how are you doing?’

‘How do ya think?’ Elvis grunted.

‘Well I know but I don’t understand. I mean how have they even charged you? You said you had nothing to do with it-’

‘I didn’t,’ Elvis said firmly, blue eyes glaring up at her. Lori swallowed thickly, wondering how to approach whatever she wanted to ask.

‘But how can they charge you? I mean what evidence can they possibly have-’ she started though Elvis cut her off clasping his own large hand around her small one as he said, ‘look let's get one thing straight. I’m not going anywhere. They're not going to pin this on me because they ain’t got shit to pin it on me with. Whatever bullshit charges they throw at me first.’

Lori nodded as he continued, ‘and until then I don’t want to be questioned and challenged in my home. Got it?’

‘Yeah,’ Lori said quietly.

‘I said do you understand me?’ Elvis repeated, azure eyes burning into her own. Lori smiled weakly and said, ‘yeah, of course I do.’

✵✵✵

‘Sorry it took a couple of days to get back to you,’ Austin said, clearing his throat. It was dry but that was what happened when you spent most of the last two days doing nothing more than working, barely remembering to eat and drink, ‘they er they said you rang.’

‘I did,’ Lori said, pausing to listen for the sound of anyone on the line. There was no one in the house other than the normal myriad of lodgers. The staff had gone for the day and Elvis and his entourage were out at the club. Save for his grandma sleeping at the other end of the house she was free to talk but still not one hundred percent easy about the idea. When the only thing she heard was Austin's breathing she continued, ‘just wanted an update about what's going on?’

‘He hasn’t said?’ Austin said sceptically.

‘He hasn’t said much of anything since he got home. He’s been spending his time at the club, everyone thinks it's better to be seen doing everything as normal,’ she explained though she neglected to mention how she had not left the house at all since Elvis had arrived home. His decree about not questioning him had meant she was completely in the dark and given that he would no doubt find out if she started asking people in or out of the house she figured her best source of news would be Austin and so had spent the last two days waiting by the phone for him to finally pick up.

‘Well he has been charged and bailed so the next thing is going to be setting a date for a prelim. It’s a lot of formalities at this stage,’ Austin explained.

‘At the courthouse?’ Lori asked, already able to hear the flashes of cameras going off, her cheeks already aching from the serious yet approachable expression she'd have to don as she accompanied him as the withstanding wife.

‘Yeah, all of it’s in the courts hands now I'm afraid we just keep on adding whatever evidence we can if we can that way when he gets to the prelim the judge will have no choice but to take it to trial,’ Austin said.

‘But you’ve charged him surely that means there's enough to go on right?’ she questioned.

‘Yeah but given the situation more evidence is probably better than relying on what we’ve already got,’ he said. They'd been working tirelessly to put a good case together, one that shed doubt on not only his alibi but his entire reputation and the reliability of those trying to defend him. Unfortunately they had come to a sticking point. Looking from the outside in on such a tight knit group was never going to be easy but he'd never anticipated it being this hard. Truthfully it was why he'd chosen to ring her back, hoping she might be able to help further. That and the words of the DA ringing in his ears about using her for all she was worth.

‘Actually I was wondering if you could help. Face to face would be best,’ he said casually as if it didn’t matter either way though he heard her tense all the same.

‘I thought you just needed me to testify,’ she said. When it was just that she could put it out of her mind. That was miles away and she could focus on acting, playing her part right up until she no longer had to.

‘We need to get there first,’ Austin reasoned, adding a caveat of, ‘it's just a bit of background information.

His entourage is like a den of snakes, hard to know who anyone is and hard to ask without getting bit.’

She deliberated on it. He could see her point but if they were a pit of snakes what was she? A rat, that surely seemed appropriate but if she was going to get through this she needed to make sure she had all the information available, to know how to play it and well maybe she could do some questioning of her own.

‘’Fine,’ she said after a beat, ‘where?’

‘Well I can meet you anywhere,’ he offered, figuring it was best to let her hold the reins for this one.

‘I don’t know,’ she said, moving to peek out of the window. The front lawn was expansive but she could still see all the way down to the gate where dozens of people were parked out chatting amongst themselves, their cameras slung over their shoulders as they waited for a sniff of gossip, ‘it's not exactly easy to go places these days.’

‘I understand but er, I dare say it's probably not wise for me to come to you,’ Austin reasoned. Lori frowned, irked that he had a point.

‘Okay fine,’ she sighed, an idea popping into her head not a moment later, ‘how would you like to go to church?’

✵✵✵

­­­The church car park was bustling with people when Austin got there, granted not as full as a normal Sunday service but a decent enough amount to fill the pews. He’d been loitering outside looking amongst the people streaming in to see if he could see Lori but her bouffant hairdo was not visible amongst the throng of people. And the problem was that she hadn't really given him an objective or instruction and instead had just told him to arrive in plenty of time before the seven o’clock service. Checking his watch he found he had fifteen minutes to kill so maybe it wasn’t too much of an issue that he hadn't spotted her yet. What he hadn't anticipated however was being spotted himself.

‘Detective!’ a jovial drawl said, the woman he remembered from the bake sale appearing into view as she left the side of her friend to greet him.

‘Mrs Bouchard,’ he greeted with a smile but no further conversation.

‘Oh it’s Miss,’ she said with a twinkling smile, ‘have you decided to join our church?’

‘I was thinking about it,’ he lied.

‘Oh that is wonderful. It’s always nice to have such respectable members of the community be part of our congregation,’ she beamed, ‘come now, I’ll show you around and get you acquainted.’

And with that she tried to take his elbow and steer him into the brick building but he rooted himself on the sidewalk and said, ‘oh it’s alright. I’ll be in in a minute.’

‘Why are you waiting for someone?’ she asked, watching him closely, loading up all the questions she would follow up with the moment he refused her. Austin scanned the parking lot once more and not seeing Lori’s car he forced a smile and said, ‘no, I was just enjoying the breeze. It’s awfully hot.’

‘Oh I know! But not to worry, the church sprung for some new fans this spring! State of the art! C’mon’ she said, pulling on him again and finally forcing his feet to move.

Austin gritted his teeth but allowed himself to be steered into the church though he made a firm decision to duck down a pew a few from the front and to an end where he wouldn’t be too noticeable. Blanche was talking his ear off but fortunately gave his company up in order to brag to her friends about securing the newest recruit. Austin kept glancing around trying to see if he could spot Lori coming through the door. As he checked his watch again, seeing that there was now only eight minutes to go he started to get antsy only when he looked up he spotted her by a door to the side of the altar, watching him and the crowd quietly. They only locked eyes but she nodded, jutting her head towards another open door to the side of him which hinted at a corridor and just beyond he could see a sign for a bathroom.

‘Excuse me,’ Austin said, capturing the attention of the elderly couple in front of him who both turned and offered him a kind smile.

‘Yes dear,’ the woman replied.

‘Does the church have a bathroom,’ he said flashing her his most bashful smile, ‘I’m new here, haven’t gotten used to everything yet.’

‘Oh sure does,’ she said.

‘Just through there,’ the man said, pointing to the direction he’d been hoping to go.

‘Much appreciated,’ Austin said as he rose from his pew and shimmied out of the row, heading through the door but making sure to push it to as he went through.

The corridor was long, running to the back of the building where the attached community centre was along with various offices and other rooms. He wandered down the corridor not daring to say her name in case anyone else was listening. At least he could still pretend he had gone the wrong way if he was caught. Just as he neared a corner to another corridor she appeared practically walking into him and looking startled even though she would’ve known he was coming.

‘This way,’ she whispered, glancing behind him to make sure there was no one else around before she led him down to a room, practically pushing him through the door before she swiftly closed it behind her, clicking the small lock into place. It was a small room and it looked like an office of some sort with various books lined up on several shelves. A desk was at the centre of it and two chairs set out in front of the desk. If he had to guess it was probably the pastor's office which made sense why she had opted for it, it was bound to be out of use for a good hour.

As always he observed her, and just like every other time he’d met her she was dressed the part. This time she was dressed in a demure baby blue dress that grazed along her knees, an appropriate length for the inside of a church, and her hair was half up pulling the curls back from her face in a way that made her appear more youthful. A pillar of respectability and no doubt a show for the number of reporters he knew to be sitting at her front gate as well as the club. And she even acted the naïve youth, moving forward quickly as she pulled a chair out for him to sit in, the curated, cold front he’d previously had thawed some which was probably why he found himself trying to ease her nerves joking, ‘you know I'm not sure Jesus would approve of us sneaking around in his home.’

‘Yeah well there's a lot of things I'll need to ask him forgiveness for,’ she snarked, taking a seat and gesturing for him to sit down. He followed her instructions, slightly soothed by willingness to be snippy with him.

‘As long as us using this office isn’t on the list,’ he replied. Lori shook her head, ‘the service is on so no one will know we’re in here. You can leave with everyone else at the end if you go down to the end of the corridor you’ll merge right into the congregation.’

‘The pastor won't mind?’ he probed.

‘He kind of gives me free reign,’ she admitted as though that would be hard to believe. Even without the known influence the Presleys played when it came to church donations Austin didn’t believe even a pastor would be able to say no to her when asked.

‘So what did you need?’ she asked, watching him closely. He was dressed formally yet again but not the normal suits she'd become accustomed to seeing. Instead he was wearing a pair of high waisted trousers and a tight collared shirt which clung to his frame as he moved to remove his jacket before pulling a file from the inside pocket. It was a decent size but he’d practically rolled it up to conceal it from view. 

‘Well the thing is the DA is worried,’ he started.

‘About the trial?’ she asked.

‘Yeah I mean we have evidence, enough to charge him but we need to build a backstory. A narrative and considering you're our secret weapon the absence of a motive is kind of damning us,’ Austin admitted, watching as she gnawed on the inside of her lip, ‘now don’t worry we’re not going to use you, not yet but we need to form some kind of picture, an angle to use about him.’

‘What does that mean?’ she questioned.

‘Whatever you can tell us about how they work, their dynamics, what they're like. All information helps,’ he said.

‘Like on record?’ she hesitated. Austin cleared his throat.

‘Not necessarily. Whatever you say we can look into, no one needs to know why we started to look there just what we find,’ he promised, ‘but picking away at the image they present will help us in the long run. We know what they’re like, we just have to prove it. Okay?’

Lori hesitated. She had always known that this would involve things she didn’t want to do but her reasonings had been sound. She was making Elvis pay for what he had done, the crime fit the punishment and in turn punished her for her indiscretions but this felt like snitching.

She’d be spilling company secrets, telling him things about her friends, her family. She'd be selling them all down the river. But what choice did she have? Once this was all done there was no way she'd get through it. Once Elvis was in prison she’d hardly be revered amongst those he surrounded himself with. Who knew maybe if she helped Austin he would deal with the problem for her. The less associates she had hanging around after the easier it would be to try and cobble her life into some kind of order again.

‘Okay,’ she said hesitantly, ‘what do you want to know?’

‘How long has your husband owned Kings?’ he asked.

‘About fifteen years,’ she said.

‘But he wasn’t always a club owner right?’ Austin said.

‘No he used to be a singer,’ Lori said, she was still sitting stiffly in her chair, their conversation feeling awkward and unyielding.

‘Until he was drafted?’ Austin asked.

‘Yeah when he came back the opportunities had dried up and he didn’t have the same traction so he and his manager put their money into Kings,’ she explained, watching as his head looked up from where he’d been jotting notes before he asked, ‘manager?’

‘Yeah the Colonel,’ she said, watching as he flicked through a couple of pages.

‘He owns part of Kings?’ he asked as if this wasn’t something he’d found before. At that Lori settled into her chair feeling more relaxed now the conversation was steering away from Elvis, away from her and Elvis. He knew she’d had an affair, that was more than enough and she didn’t exactly want to dissect the rest of their marriage anyway.

‘Yeah he’s in the background, he makes the business decisions and manages the money. Elvis is the face of things,’ she explained.

‘But he doesn’t manage the club day to day, that’s,’ Austin paused looking at his notes, ‘Joe Esposito right?’

‘Yeah, came back with Elvis after the army and kind of never left. He arranges all the acts, makes sure things are booked and on time. He’s more like a personal assistant though,’ she said, ‘though most people are.’

‘I thought they were bodyguards,’ Austin said raising an eyebrow.

‘Oh they can fight no doubt and they’re all armed but they’re more like errand boys. He keeps them close to do whatever he needs,’ she said.

‘Who?’ Austin asked.

‘Red is his go to, or Sonny,’ she said, ‘but Jerry’s part of the rotation well when they are speaking.’

‘What do they argue about?’ Austin asked curiously.

‘Elvis…likes to buy people,’ she said sighing as he raised an eyebrow, ‘now don’t get me wrong the boys love him they do. They've all been friends forever and it's not a position you can get in without being friends with him first but sometimes favour is bought.’

‘What do you mean?’ Austin asked though he was sure he had an inkling. Lori sighed.

‘Elvis has friends but all of his friends are on his payroll. So why they do want to be there they also kinda have to be and when they differ about something it means they can’t get away,’ she said, trying not to think about how her words related to her too. If she thought about that she’d get stuck. It was easier to look at them as separate to her. The conversation was flowing easier now, the information falling out of her mouth without much prompting. She wondered if it was because this was the first time she’d ever been able to openly comment on them without judgment or whether it was just because Austin seemed to actually be listening to her, seeing her properly rather than as an extension of him, ‘now for Jerry he’d rather stand on his own two feet than go against what he thinks is right. But some of the others aren’t like that. They keep it in because if they don’t they’ll lose everything.’

‘Right,’ Austin muttered.

‘It does well to keep him on side,’ she said quietly.

Austin noted the sadness in her voice but didn’t comment on it, instead steering the conversation to another member of the entourage before weaving through the family, household and staff. It gave him some good ideas about things that they might lend a hand to, targets to hone in on but it wasn’t exactly tangible information. And so as he started to hear the sounds of the congregation coming to the end of the service he said, ‘you know it'd probably do well for us to keep in touch going forward.’

‘Why?’ she asked. She’d heard the pastor start to dismiss people and had informed him they needed to leave, standing up and grabbing her bag she’d placed on the back of her chair when she'd assessed the room.

‘Well you're only going to know how the investigation is going from your lawyer if not,’ he said, ‘I wouldn’t want you to be blindsided by the prosecution's strategy but it’ll no doubt change based on whatever other evidence we manage to find.’

‘I don’t know. I mean with the amount of scrutiny on our life at the minute I doubt regular rendezvous with a cop are going to go unnoticed,’ she said unsurely as she headed for the door.

‘How about this,’ Austin bargained, moving to stop her before she got her hand on the knob. Lori looked up at him in surprise, ‘I’ll come to the service every week. I’m new in the area, I live in the parish, there's no reason we can't both go here.’

‘And what, we talk between verses of kumbaya?’ she challenged.

‘No,’ he said resisting the urge to smile, ‘if you want to talk I'll be here if not don’t come.’

‘Every week?’ she asked.

‘Every week,’ he nodded.

✵✵✵

Austin didn’t sleep much once he got back from the church, his brain was whirring about everything they had discussed and the new avenues he now had to explore. So much so he practically bounced into the DA's office the following morning to update him on the case, growing excited as the man's eyes lit up with excitement before he stifled himself and said, ‘it's good but we need to look deep before we start arresting all of ‘em for whatever.’

‘Right,’ Austin agreed.

‘But you’re right. The Wests look like our first safe bet or at least like they are more malleable. Might even be able to get them to admit he was there that night,’ Robert said.

‘With what?’ Austin asked.

‘Well their freedom is a good bargaining chip to start with,’ Robert said, ‘good job Butler. Now let's hope we can get her to give you more.’

‘Yeah,’ Austin said feeling a twinge of guilt as he said, ‘let’s hope.’

ELVIS TAGS

@girlblogger2002@sania562@caitlin1996@literally-just-elvis-fics@notstefaniepresley @18lkpeters @velvetelvis @jaqueline19997 @elvispresleyxoxo @amydarcimarie @everythingelvispresley @elvispresleywife @lillypink @richardslady121 @louisejoy86 @ccab @i-r-i-n-a-a @lettersfromvenus @artlesson8892 @presleyenterprise

AUSTIN TAGS

@purejasmine @caitlin1996

[little-svt]

GENDERNEUTRAL | FLUFF | VALENTINE’S DAY

Wc: 1.6k+

Taglist: @pastel-princess-please @kiki-woo @fishsquishh

To You

Xu Minghao rarely thought about Valentine’s Day until the day of when gifts, sweets and chocolates from staff, a few friends and occasionally his mother would pour in to be abandoned due to his diet or his general indifference to sweets. Sometimes if the gift was pretty or useful, he’d find a place to display it, otherwise, they’d be forgotten in a closet somewhere or regifted to someone he felt could make better use of it than he would.

He’d never really worried about giving gifts or doing anything special for Valentine's Day that didn’t involve work. Even outside of work, he was surrounded by dudes who were receiving the same sweets and gifts treatment that he was.

With no lover, Valentine’s Day was just another day. But with you, Valentine's Day may as well have been every day. You were the only person he cared to show his undying love and affection for. The only person who he’d go out of his way to gift you your favorite treats and things he knew you needed. He’d find no more satisfaction in anything other than spending his time attached to you and caring for his clumsy, little baby.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t even had time to think about Valentine’s Day this year, his work taking him on a plane, overseas, and on a completely different schedule than you. He’d wanted things to be different now that he had you, but he was ashamed to say, just like last year and the years before, he hadn’t even noticed the day rapidly approaching until the night before. During his performance, heavily panting through the end of a song, it hit him like a truck when he saw a sign with pink and red glitter lettering.

‘The8 Be My Valentine?’

He’d noticed his stage name as his eyes scanned the crowd in front of him as he walked off to the side, finishing his part. It wasn’t the vast amounts of local tourist food he’d been eating making him sick, but the fact that he had no plans, no gifts, no idea what he was going to do.

The moment Seventeen we’re off stage for the night, getting ready to leave, he debated asking any of the members for help, but he had to pick carefully. Half of them were practically dunces when it came to romance and the rest would potentially laugh in his face. Though they meant well, no malice intended, it was unproductive.

Soonyoung? No. Mingyu? Probably not. Vernon? Definitely not.

“Jihoon Hyung?”, Minghao whispered, pained embarrassment on his face as he offered a bottle of water to the older member, his desperate plea.

Prying himself from Soonyoung, directing him to Dokyeom and the others, Jihoon followed Minghao to a corner, out of eavesdropping distance.

“Yea? Are you okay?”, he cracked open the water, giving the younger some space to speak.

“Do you know what tomorrow is?”, Minghao sighed and out his back against the wall.

“Yes.”, Jihoon thought for a moment before rubbing at his temples,”You didn’t.”

“What can I do? Do you have some old love song? What should I buy? How should I buy it? Hyung we aren’t even in the same country. What am I thinking?”, Minghao groaned, rubbing his face with his eyes toward the ceiling.

“I’ve never seen you this worked up.”, Jihoon almost laughed at his dongsaeng's suffering and desperation, it was kind of his own fault, but he thought better of it, “let me make some calls. You at least know what they like, at least that much, right?”

“Yes! I’m not that bad of a boyfriend!”

“Gasp-“, Jun covered his mouth dramatically, halting in his spot as he approached the two, “What did you do?! Did you… this will break Y/n’s heart!”

“What?! It’s not that bad! Hyung, tell him it’s not that bad.”, Minghao was spiraling.

“What’s not that bad?“, Jun giggled, having no idea what the two had been chatting about in the first place.

“Ge…I hate you.”, catching on Minghao grabbed his bag and his phone and shooed the playful kitty away so he could confirm his plans with Jihoon.

“Hi, Bāobèi.”, Minghao spoke softly, once you adjusted your position in bed and your phone camera to your liking. Both of you were barefaced, fresh out of the shower. He’d stayed up late, first with Jihoon making plans, and late enough to where you’d be getting ready for bed and he could FaceTime you with no interruptions.

“Hi.”, you sighed blithely, just happy to see his face and hear his voice when there were no other people watching, just for you, to you.

“How was your day?”, he asked, contented as he listened to you speak about trivial things.

He liked to listen to you talk. When he had to he could talk to no end but it was nice being the observer, the listener. Especially when the one he was watching was so cute. He could sit there forever only nodding and interjecting when it felt right. But eventually, you began to yawn, your tone growing tired and your eyes feeling heavy.

“Tired already?”, he questioned, sitting up and checking the time. Just a little longer and you could go off to sleep peacefully, but not yet, “Why don’t you talk with me a little more? I missed you. Did you catch a live stream when we performed?”

“Of course I did. I’d never miss a show, even if I have to lock myself in my office bathroom.”, you giggled, “your stylists have quite the talent for making me flustered.”

“Oh, is that so? Well, the entire time I was thinking about how I’d rather be home with my Bāobèi in my arms and your (plushie name) in yours while we watch some movie we’ve seen a thousand times and count down the clock to midnight so I can be the first to tell you how much I love you and ask you to be my Valentine.”

“Don’t lie.”, you could feel yourself almost buckling. This man had a way with words when he wanted to, one would fall for it every time, “You love performing.”

“You’re right.”, he chuckled softly, “But that does sound much better than being here in this hotel room alone, though FaceTiming does have its charms.”

Finally, what he was waiting for. Your head snapped left first in surprise then confusion as you heard your doorbell buzz from across your apartment.

“Hold on… someone’s at the door. I’m gonna check the doorcam.”, you step off your bed, holding the phone to your chest as you crossed the house.

“Be careful~”, he sang, knowing there was nothing to worry about even at this late hour.

Being as quiet as possible, you tiptoed to the screen on the wall next to the door, a man leaving down the hall. Confused, you cracked the door to see delivery bags and packages on the floor behind it.

“MINGHAO! Was this you? There’s so much. Gah.. you really-”, complaining, you abandoned your phone on the counter inside so you could free up both hands and bring everything inside.

Once everything was safe on your kitchen counter, your front door secured once again, you couldn’t help but notice the peeps of pinks and reds through the bags, only remembering your phone when Minghao softly giggled to himself.

“It’s not funny. What are you thinking?”, you caught your breath, your cheeks red either from being flustered or the strenuous activity of carrying all the bags inside.

“Open everything. I wanna see.”, he grinned, shuffling sounds being carried by your speaker as he sat up in bed.

Setting your phone on your counter so he could see, you moved to the obvious bag first, shooting him odd looks that were quickly swept away by your blush once you’d fully revealed the bright bouquet of roses, the suspects of red and pink from before. Smiling as he watched, Minghao directed you to open the rest, insisting he watched. Amongst the items he’d ordered for you were a card, a frog plush, your favorite takeout, and a tray of assorted Valentine themed candies and gummies.

“Oh! Open that one!”

Quirking your eyebrow at the plain white box in front of you, you opened it and pulled out the cube inside, a heart directly on the front.

“Plug it in and turn it on”, he giggled, his phone coming closer to his face as he tapped on his screen.

Immediately after following his directions, the heart began to spin, startled you yelp and stepped away. Feeling a bit childish, especially after hearing him laugh, you grumbled and took the lid off, revealing a message.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Bāobèi. - Bàba’

“Hao..”, you pouted, picking up your phone.

“What’s that?”, he questioned.

“Bàba..”, you corrected yourself, your heart melting as you played with the edge of the box.

Minghao was more of a words guys, sometimes a cuddles guy, but never had he gone so over the top for you.

“This is too much.”, you forced a pout, your smile hiding behind it, though unsuccessfully.

“It is a bit much isn’t it? If only I could have delivered it myself.”, he sighed, suddenly the feeling of your absence aching in his chest, “Now, don’t think too much of me. I forgot it was Valentine’s Day.”

“Hao!”, you scolded, suppressing your laughter because, “Of course you did.”

“I know, I know. Are you going to keep calling me that name or can I talk with my Bāobèi before i pass out for the night”

Remembering it was late for him, you swallowed your pride and let yourself drown in this display of his affection.

“Thank you, Bàba”, you whispered, hugging your new froggy friend to your chest, a perfect Bàba replacement when he was away from home

“Anything for you, Bāobèi”

🧸Endnote: let’s ignore that red, white a black day are the main thing in SK and how it’s not like this at all 🤪 I had a lot of ideas for Valentine’s Day but this one ended up being the one that came to life. We all need some Hao hours. ~ 🐶🐰🍓

🧸Masterlist🧸

[bard-llama]

WiP Thursday AKA I was busy Weds: Petty Drama at Kaer Morhen

So I'm running out of things to post because I have been absorbed in this fic that has decided that it will both be very long and that it will not be separate chapters/the chapters will be massive. Like seriously, it's already 17.5k and we're in the first of 4 arcs/chapters. So figured I'd share a few scenes. (Warning for length 'cause I have no restraint.)

Summary: Before going to find Ciri, Geralt sought out allies to help him in the battle against the Wild Hunt, the battle to save his daughter. Unfortunately, he didn’t think to share the list of who all he was inviting with anyone – and it turns out, <i>many</i> of his friends actually hate each other. Nonetheless, they must work together to fight off the coming army.

(Apologies in advance for the formatting. Gods I hate how tumblr has changed.)

Arriving at Kaer Morhen

Now, finally, Roche and Ves were winding up the road to Kaer Morhen – and it turned out, they weren’t the only ones who had come to Geralt’s aid. In fact, quite a number of people seemed to have gathered in the keep to defend Geralt’s daughter – but neither Geralt nor his daughter were actually present yet. 

“Once they arrive, it’s go time,” Eskel, one of Geralt’s witcher brothers, explained. “The Wild Hunt won’t be far behind.”

“How does Pretty Boy know so many people, anyway?” Lambert, another witcher, groused. “Even witchers from other fucking schools!”

“Oh?” Roche asked, genuinely curious. 

It was at that moment that the fucking witcher who had killed Roche’s King walked in as if Geralt hadn’t said that he’d ‘dealt’ with the Kingslayer. Roche’s knives were in hand instantaneously, even though his odds of winning against a witcher weren’t great. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Eskel held his hand up. “We’re all here for the same purpose.”

The Kingslayer looked him over with little change in his expression, as though Roche had both gone unrecognized and been judged unimportant. 

Roche snarled. “He killed Foltest!”

Eskel and Lambert both blinked in surprise. “He did?”

The Kingslayer shrugged shoulders that were ridiculously thick with muscle and even without the witcher mutations, he could probably take Roche down easily. 

That didn’t mean Roche wasn’t ready to fight. 

Ves stood beside him, blades at the ready, prepared to back him. It made him hesitate, swallowing hard. He was willing to go down fighting – but he couldn’t bring Ves down with him. The Kingslayer could probably kill them both without breaking a sweat. 

Roche grit his teeth so hard his temple ached. This was Foltest’s killer. He couldn’t just let him get away.

But he also couldn’t get Ves killed. Not to mention, they were about to face an invasion by the Wild Hunt and the more bodies they had, the better.

Even if one of those bodies had murdered Foltest?

His hand was wrapped so tightly around his dagger that it was shaking, knuckles bloodless. 

“Vernon Roche,” said a voice behind him that he hadn’t expected to hear ever again.

He whirled around. “Iorveth!”

Sure enough, the elf who had long been his enemy stood in the doorway of the witchers’ keep, looking at him with an arched eyebrow and half a smirk. 

“Geralt invited you!?” Ves sneered in disbelief. 

Iorveth tilted his head in greeting. “He failed to mention who else he was asking.”

“Yeah,” Roche grunted, noticing suddenly that his heart was racing in his chest. Why? Because he was ready to fight the Kingslayer… right? It couldn’t be just because Iorveth had appeared. “You and the fucking Kingslayer,” Roche grit out, turning away from Iorveth to glare at the hulking witcher. 

It occurred to him that that meant turning his back on Iorveth, but he didn’t really think anything of it until Iorveth stepped up beside him, glare just as fierce as his own.

It was weird how standing shoulder to shoulder with Iorveth and Ves both just felt right.

“Letho,” Iorveth spat, hands on the hilts of his swords.

“Still alive, elf?” the Kingslayer greeted casually. 

“No thanks to you.”

The Kingslayer just shrugged.

“Okay,” Eskel began, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Clearly Geralt knows a lot of people who hate each other. But you came for a reason, and that reason isn’t to fight each other. So you can leave or you can stay, but there will be no fighting except against the Wild Hunt.”

Ves growled, low in her throat, gaze darting to Roche’s. Roche licked his lips, aware that she was asking for orders. Which option would they choose? Would they leave – leave Geralt in the lurch? Or would they stay – stay and fight alongside the man who had murdered King Foltest?

“Fine,” Iorveth agreed to the terms, and suddenly the decision was easy to make.

“We’re staying,” Roche confirmed, though he didn’t let up in glaring at the Kingslayer. 

Ves grumbled under her breath, fingers tight around the harpy talon she was wielding. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was one of the poisoned ones, too.

Would poison even work on a witcher?

“Great,” Eskel said tonelessly. “So let’s all lower our weapons, yeah?”

It was difficult to do so and it happened slowly. The whole while, the Kingslayer – who had never bothered to even reach for his weapons – looked unconcerned. 

“So, just to be clear,” Lambert said, “all of you are enemies? And yet also friends with Geralt? Seriously?”

“Fucking witcher neutrality,” Ves muttered.

“Well,” Eskel said, looking exasperated, “come in, I guess. We have no idea how many more people to expect, but there’s plenty of room. The others are around somewhere.”

“How many others, exactly?” Iorveth asked, tension in his shoulders.

“So far? Nine,” Lambert grunted. “Mostly annoying sorceresses.”

“Oh?” Roche perked up, stepping into the living area and wondering if–

“Roche!” Triss Merigold, King Foltest’s favorite Court Mage, beamed at him from the other side of the fire. “It’s good to see you alive,” she said, too genuinely.

“You too,” he murmured, stepping closer. 

Given permission, she lunged at him in a hug. “I’ve been hiding out in Novigrad,” she said. “It’s been awful.”

“Yeah,” Roche agreed. The way all their lives had gone since Foltest’s death was definitely awful. “We’ve been fighting Nilfgaard.”

“Of course you have,” Triss squeezed her arms around him and pulled back with a smile. “And – is that Iorveth?” she asked suddenly, looking past his shoulder.

Iorveth, the fucking bastard, waved. 

“Apparently Geralt has a lot of friends,” Roche huffed. “Including the fucking Kingslayer.”

Triss’ face was grim. “Yeah. But we need all the help we can get.”

Roche’s grunt of agreement was begrudging.

Keira, another of Foltest’s mages, wiggled her fingers in greeting. She was looking a little worse for wear, actually, and she must have been able to sense his thoughts, because she scowled at him.

“Triss chose Novigrad to hide in. I chose Velen.”

“Ah.” Roche, who had been fighting in Velen the past several months, understood immediately. Velen was a fucking shithole. And he should know – he’d been born there!

“Who else is here?” Ves asked.

“Oh, well, there’s Yenn, she’s another sorceress. Yennefer of Vengerberg,” Triss said. “And Vesemir. He’s an older Wolf Witcher. Then Zoltan and Dandelion, you’ve met them. Ermion is a druid from Skellige and he apparently came independently of the new Skelliger Queen’s brother and childhood friend, Hjalmar and Folan.”

“The – Skellige has a Queen?” Roche blinked. News had been a little slow out in Velen, but damn, how did he miss that?

“Cerys an Craite,” Keira nodded. “The jarls chose her as their Queen. She’s working to unite the Isles.”

“Oh. Wow.”

“Yeah. Her brother brags about her a lot, even though he got passed over for King.”

“Huh.”

“It’s annoying,” Keira said, and Roche’s lips twitched. 

“That everyone?”

“Oh, and Avallac’h,” Lambert said. “He’s an elf, but not like a normal elf? I dunno, he’s very holier than thou about it.”

“Not like a normal elf?” Iorveth repeated, tone unimpressed.

“I am Aen Saevherne,” a voice said and Roche turned to see a tall silver-haired elf walking down the stairs that led into one of the towers. 

“What does that mean?” Roche asked with a frown. He’d researched a fair amount about elves during his former work as a Scoia’tael hunter, but he could recall nothing of an ‘Aen Saevherne’.

“The best translation would be ‘elven sage’,” Avallac’h said.

Iorveth’s eye narrowed. “You have magic?”

“Beyond what you are capable of understanding,” Avallac’h said, and his standoffishness turned off more than just Iorveth, who glared.

Iorveth’s hatred of all things magic was rather notorious, actually. And here they were, surrounded by magic users – sorceresses and sages.

“There are other elven mages,” Roche pointed out. “So what makes you different?”

“I am from the world of the Aen Elle,” Avallac’h said proudly. 

Roche, to whom that meant absolutely nothing, asked, “what are the Aen Elle? ‘Cause you’re Aen Seidhe, right?” he directed at Iorveth.

Iorveth hummed in agreement, watching Avallac’h carefully. 

“On my world,” Avallac’h said, “it is elves who are the conquerors. We have never been subjugated.”

Iorveth’s fingers curled around his swords again. 

“To be fair,” a new voice said, and Roche turned to see the dwarf he’d met in Flotsam when all the Kingslaying crap went down. Zoltan Chivay, standing next his ostentatious bard, looked them over with an arched eyebrow and continued, “elves were conquerors on this planet, too. Humans just did it better.”

“Chivay,” Iorveth spat with even more venom than the Kingslayer had gotten. Roche was surprised. 

“Iorveth,” Zoltan responded flatly, unimpressed. 

“You know each other?” Triss asked in surprise. 

“Unfortunately,” they both said.

“How?” Dandelion the Bard asked, seemingly just as surprised as all of them. 

Zoltan shrugged, “I’ve lived a long time.”

Iorveth scoffed softly, still glaring bloody murder. It was a glare that hadn’t been turned on Roche at all, Roche suddenly realized. The Kingslayer and Zoltan were openly hated, but the way Iorveth looked at Roche was different.

What did that mean?

“For fuck’s sake,” Eskel said, exasperated. “Does Geralt know anyone that doesn’t hate each other?” He shook his head. “Anyway, you guys can take any free room you come across. Make sure you check for cracks in the walls. We’re working on getting the keep patched up before the battle.”

“Great,” Roche said flatly. “Thanks.”

--

When Iorveth and Roche are catching up after ending up rooming together

“So you’re like… legit now? Except for the part where the rest of the North still considers you wanted?”

“The ‘rest of the North’ is basically just Redania now,” Iorveth pointed out, “and they have bigger concerns.”

Roche frowned. Iorveth wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Once, Temeria had been the forefront power in the North. And now…

“Why?” he found himself asking in a whisper.

“Mm?”

“Why did you help kill him?”

“Him – Foltest?” Iorveth checked, unconcerned.

Roche’s eyes narrowed. “Who else?” he bit out. “You helped the Kingslayer escape after killing my king.”

“And then got betrayed by him,” Iorveth pointed out.

“But before that betrayal, you were working together,” Roche said. “Why?”

Iorveth held his head high. “King Foltest was a threat to elves everywhere. Now he’s not.”

“Now Temeria is falling apart,” Roche snapped. 

“Boohoo,” Iorveth scoffed. “Temeria was built on the ruins of my country, dh’oine. But you don’t even know what we were called, do you?”

Roche blinked. “Uh. No?”

“Dùthaich,” Iorveth said. “My country lasted five millennia before humanity destroyed it. So forgive me if I’m hardly heartbroken that the kingdom that replaced us has fallen.”

“It hasn’t fallen!” Roche protested. “Not yet!”

“Because you and your men are fighting off Nilfgaard?” Iorveth’s arched eyebrow was dubious, and it made Roche scowl.

“Yes. We will do whatever we must to save Temeria.” Roche closed his eyes with a sigh, acknowledging, “who’d ever have thought that we’d change positions, huh? Me as the rebel fighting against the odds and you all official now, serving a human monarch and everything.”

Iorveth snorted. “Don’t think anyone saw that coming.”

“And yet, here we are.” Roche rubbed his face, tired and worn. It had been a long time since he’d had something as comfortable as a bed to sleep on, and weariness pulled at his body. 

“Here we are,” Iorveth echoed, and he could feel the weight of the elf’s gaze on him, though he couldn’t seem to manage opening his eyes to look. Iorveth huffed an amused breath. “Go to sleep, Vernon. I’ll wake you for dinner.”

If he had any sense, Roche would not decide to sleep with his enemy right there – but somehow, letting himself drift off to sleep was easy.

And Iorveth kept his word, though deciding to wake him up by playing a loud note on his flute right in Roche’s ear was entirely unnecessary.

“Dinnertime,” Iorveth smirked.

“Motherfucker,” Roche swore. 

Iorveth laughed, leading the way out of their room and back down towards the common area of the keep. 

Dinner was interesting. Roche chose to sit next to Triss and Keira, because he actually knew them, and they were sitting across from Dandelion and Zoltan, who he found acceptably friendly. So he didn’t think anything of it when he took his seat – except Iorveth sat next to him, glaring at Zoltan once more.

When Ves showed up, she leveled him with an unimpressed look and squeezed into the space between him and Triss when Iorveth refused to move. 

Roche rolled his eyes with a huff, shoving Iorveth over so that he could scooch aside and leave Ves more room. 

Iorveth grumbled, but moved closer to the Skelliger archer that was sitting across from what was apparently the brother of the Skelliger Queen. 

The witchers all sighed, taking their seats with the Kingslayer farthest from Roche. Thank fuck. The standoffish elf and a dark haired sorceress who must’ve been Yennefer of Vengerberg sat at the end of the table, and she waved her hand with a murmured spell until the stew started dishing itself out, bowls floating down the table to sit before each of them.

Roche thought it was pretty cool, honestly, but Iorveth had a sour look on his face, glaring at his food like it might bite him. 

The Skelliger Queen’s brother – what was his name again? Something with an H? – laughed. “Yeah, it’s weird,” he agreed. “But it tastes the same.”

“It’s a rather frivolous use of magic,” the druid sitting next to Dandelion sniffed. 

“Yeah, but it’s still cool,” the other Skelliger said. 

“It’s practical,” Yennefer of Vengerberg’s sharp voice corrected. 

Triss met Roche’s gaze and rolled her eyes, passing him some bread. He bit back a smile, amused. 

So this was who they would be fighting the Wild Hunt with. It should prove interesting.

The fact that a fight didn’t break out over dinner was, frankly, miraculous and entirely due to the oldest witcher’s fiercely disappointed gaze that made all of them falter. That probably said something deeply psychological about all of their relationships with father figures, but Roche decided it wasn’t worth dwelling on. 

They made polite conversation (stiffly, in some cases), and Roche paid attention to all of it, eager for information that could help him get a sense of his companions. 

He was already learning a few interesting things.

Dandelion and Zoltan had apparently been to this mythical land of equality that Iorveth was helping to build, and the way they talked about its Queen was eye-opening, though for Zoltan, his praise of the Dragonslayer was interspersed with snide remarks about the Scoia’tael. What was interesting was that Iorveth’s praise was just as open, even though this Dragonslayer was a human. 

How the fuck did this human woman convince Iorveth to not just unite his people and bring them to her aid, but actually build this country alongside her?

“Saskia is not like any dh’oine you’ve ever met,” Iorveth said easily. 

Roche crossed his arms. “Oh yeah? What makes her so special?”

“She has integrity,” Iorveth said, voice flat. “She actually lives by her values and respects all people as people.”

“So what’s she doing affiliating with you?” Ves asked sharply.

Iorveth’s spine went straight in offense, and Zoltan barking a laugh did not help. “She has a point.”

“Zoltan!” Dandelion hissed, shooting a glance at Iorveth, who looked ready to kill and was not faltering under Vesemir’s disappointment. “Vergen would have fallen without the Scoia’tael’s aid.”

Zoltan sniffed in disdain and Iorveth’s glare sharpened. “All we have ever fought for,” Iorveth bit out, “is the right to live in peace.”

“Ha! And what do you know of peace? You’ve been at war for two hundred years!”

“And you’ve colluded with murderers for two hundred years,” Iorveth spat, lips twisted with disgust.

“And what are you?” Zoltan snorted.

“Everyone here has killed,” Hjalmar, the Skelliger Queen’s brother, pointed out. “We’re literally here to fight a war.”

“Well,” Lambert said, “except the bard. Actually, why are you here again?”

“Excuse you,” Dandelion sniffed. “I am here for an even more important reason – to chronicle the fight against evil itself!”

“How much of this chronicle will be founded in fact?” Triss asked sardonically.

Hjalmar snorted. “Geralt insists half your songs are bullshit.”

“More than half,” Yennefer said.

Dandelion tutted. “It’s called creative liberty!”

Roche couldn’t help his smile, biting back a laugh. 

“So,” Triss began, looking between Zoltan and Iorveth, “you’ve known each other for two hundred years?”

“No,” Iorveth half-snarled, “it’s been two hundred years since we’ve spoken.” 

“I could have happily gone another 200,” Zoltan said. 

“Likewise,” Iorveth growled. 

“So you knew each other well, then,” Ves observed. She seemed intrigued by whatever was making Iorveth so stiff and combative and Roche internally groaned. This was definitely going to end badly.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Zoltan grunted. 

“It is only in fairly recent times that elves and dwarves have come to be allies,” the druid from Skellige observed. 

“Indeed,” Vesemir stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “I seem to recall that when I was young, there was a great kerfuffle over an elf and a dwarf daring to be together romantically. It was a big deal. Lotta people from both races disapproved.”

Iorveth cleared his throat, looking determinedly down at his stew, and Roche frowned. “Wait a minute.”

“No,” Triss breathed. “No way.”

Iorveth’s face and ears were slowly turning red, and Zoltan was also pointedly not looking at anyone.

“You and Iorveth!?” Dandelion shrieked. “Really!?”

Zoltan coughed, not answering. 

“Damn, never would’ve called that coming,” Keira laughed. 

“Huh,” Vesemir gazed contemplatively at both Iorveth and Zoltan. “If I remember correctly, both of those involved were said to be minor celebrities.”

“Oh?” Dandelion looked curious. “Well, Zoltan’s a very well known warrior, but Iorveth’s notoriety came later, didn’t it?”

Iorveth’s lips pressed together like he was resisting correcting them. Which kind of made Roche think that they weren’t completely off base.

“You’re a musician, aren’t you?” Roche asked, nudging Iorveth. “Ever get famous from that?”

A muscle in Iorveth’s jaw flexed.

“Damn, okay,” Lambert chuckled. “So how’d you end up hating each other?”

“None of your fucking business,” Iorveth snapped. 

“You’re the one airing out your drama,” Ves said. 

Iorveth’s growl was impressive enough to raise hackles around the table, but instead of attacking, he retreated, grabbing his bowl and pushing away from the table, stomping off. 

Zoltan very obviously rolled his eyes, muttering, “as dramatic as ever.”

He refused to say anything more on the topic and the conversation moved on without Iorveth, though Roche couldn’t help but dart looks at the door the elf had left through, feeling oddly worried. Not that Iorveth needed – nor wanted – his concern, but…

--

The next morning

By the time the sun rose, they felt it was safe to venture out in search of fresh food. Roche was sure they both had food supplies – but he, for one, was sick and tired of jerky. The prospect of even just leftover stew beat army ration packs. By a lot. 

They were in luck – not only was there leftover stew, but apparently the Skelliger druid was a fan of baking and there were fresh pastries, too.

“Help yourself,” he invited. 

“Thanks,” Roche murmured, biting into warm bread with a pleased little sigh. Yeah, he had missed real food.

Iorveth led the way to the dining hall, where they sat next to each other at the big empty table. Iorveth was more conservative in picking at his food – but Roche devoured it quickly and then was left debating if he could go back for seconds. 

“Here,” Iorveth grunted, holding out his bread. 

Roche blinked. “You sure?”

“Are you hungry or not?” Iorveth shrugged.

Roche was, so he took it – just as Dandelion and Zoltan walked into the dining hall with their own bowls of food. Dandelion didn’t seem to notice much – but the way that Zoltan looked at Iorveth and the way Iorveth’s ears turned red made Roche think there was something unspoken going on. 

“What?” he asked.

Zoltan just shook his head, taking a seat across from them. “So, what’ve you been up to since the whole Kingslayer business, lad?” he asked Roche.

Roche shrugged. “Fighting off Nilfgaard. Not terribly exciting.”

“Have you heard what I got up to?” Dandelion asked excitedly. “To help Ciri, I pulled off a heist!”

“You failed in pulling off a heist,” Zoltan clarified. “And Geralt and the rest of us had to save your ass from the Temple Guard.”

“Eh,” Dandelion dismissed. “Details.”

Zoltan rolled his eyes expressively. Roche couldn’t help his snicker. 

He’d finished his stew and his bread – and Iorveth’s bread, too – but honestly, he was still hungry, so he slipped back into the kitchen with a murmured explanation and got more food. When he returned, Iorveth and Dandelion were talking about music, and for some reason, Iorveth’s words stuttered when Roche plopped the bread he’d fetched for the elf on top of his bowl.

“All good?” he asked warily.

Iorveth flushed, nodding and picking up the thread of his statement – but again, the way Zoltan was looking at Iorveth and the way Iorveth continued to turn redder made Roche think there was something more going on.

“What?” he asked Zoltan.

Zoltan shrugged. “Good bread,” was all he said. But there was a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips and Iorveth cleared his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

Roche frowned. “Uh. Yeah, it is.”

Dandelion didn’t seem to notice anything was amiss, enthusiastically greeting the witchers who filed in with their own bowls of food. Roche glared at the Kingslayer on principle, but was largely ignored. 

Lambert yawned widely as Eskel greeted the rest of them. “Good morning.”

They all mumbled greetings back, and in that time, Ves and the sorceresses appeared, looking far more put together than was reasonable for such an early hour.

“Saw someone approaching the keep,” Ves told the witchers. 

“Another one?” Eskel groaned. 

“Another blade at our backs is a good thing,” Vesemir reminded him, pushing up from the table to go open the gate.

“Who do you think it is?” Dandelion asked. “I mean, Geralt only knows so many people… right?”

“More people than I woulda thought,” Eskel mumbled and Lambert snickered.

Several minutes later, Vesemir returned, followed by another witcher, though this one had a cat medallion instead of a wolf. “This is Aiden,” Vesemir began. 

“Seriously!?” Eskel threw his hands in the air as Lambert straightened. “How does he know so many other witchers?”

Lambert coughed. “Um. Actually.”

“He said he was here for Lambert,” Vesemir said, leveling a raised eyebrow on the youngest witcher (who was probably still at least twice Roche’s age).

“Yeah,” Lambert agreed, explaining nothing. “Food’s through there.” He pointed at the kitchen and Aiden glanced at the rest of them, amusement on his face, before shrugging and going to grab a bowl.

“Since when do you have a friend?” Yennefer asked, not at all quietly.

“Rude!” Lambert huffed. “I have plenty of friends!”

“Yeah?” Eskel challenged. “Like who?”

“Like Aiden,” Lambert frowned at him, crossing his arms. “And Mathies of Novigrad and Alicia Typ and Tiphany Holga and–”

“Aren’t those all bartenders?” Dandelion asked. “I’m pretty sure Mathies of Novigrad works at the Golden Sturgeon.”

“And Alicia Typ is at the Seven Cats Inn,” Zoltan nodded.

“Oh fuck you,” Lambert scowled.

“Supplying alcohol is precisely what makes them friends,” Aiden said, reappearing in the dining hall and sliding into a seat next to Lambert.

“What about Tiphany Holga?” Vesemir asked, the look on his face like he was deciding how disappointed he should be in Lambert.

Roche could answer that one. “Might not be the same one,” he prefaced, though the name was fairly unusual, “but the only one I know is a whore in Murivel.”

There were some raised eyebrows around the table and he shrugged.

“Whores make the best spies.” That and his mother, Madame of the Clarabelle brothel in Vizima, liked to make Roche hand out pamphlets on worker’s rights when he traveled to other places.

“That is true,” Iorveth said. 

“Huh,” Zoltan said. “Noted.”

“See, I told you my patronage of the various pleasure houses across the continent is for a good cause!” Dandelion laughed. 

“Yes,” Triss said, a slightly patronizing smile on her face, “I’m sure the whores learn a great deal of intel from you.”

“Actually…” Roche had to say. 

“Yeah, see!” Dandelion pointed at him. “I totally supplied good intel for Roche in Flotsam!”

“You wrote your reports in iambic pentameter,” Roche said. “But the information was good.”

Iorveth tilted his head. “Dandelion spied for you?”

“Yeah, on Loredo, the shitstain who ruled Flotsam. He’s dead now.”

“Good riddance,” Dandelion and Zoltan both said. 

“Wait,” Triss said, “is that why Dandelion almost got hanged in Flotsam?”

“Absolutely,” Dandelion said far too quickly.

“Loredo said it was because you burned down a watchtower,” Roche said, lips twitching. 

“Seriously!?” Triss – and several others – groaned.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Dandelion insisted. “Honest!”

“So how did you burn down a watchtower?”

“Really, it was their fault for leaving a candle unattended!” 

“What, did you trip over it?” Iorveth asked sardonically.

Dandelion flushed. “No!”

“...seriously!?” half the room asked.

“It wasn’t my fault!” Dandelion said again.

“Wow,” Aiden laughed. “You’re Dandelion the Bard, right? I’d heard stories, but…”

“How does Geralt put up with you?” Lambert asked bluntly.

“To be fair,” Keira interjected, “does he?”

“Geralt always shows up just in the nick of time!” Dandelion enthused.

“In the nick of time to save this idiot’s ass,” Zoltan said.

“Yeah, sounds about right,” Yennefer snorted.

“Hey!” Dandelion pouted and the rest of them laughed.

“How do all of you know Geralt, anyway?” Eskel asked. “I mean, I know he’s got a thing for sorceresses, but what about the rest of you?”

Yennefer, Keira, and Triss all puffed up in offense. 

“Geralt’s an old friend of Clan an Craite,” Hjalmar, the Skelliger Queen’s brother, said, startling those who hadn’t noticed his arrival. His friend, Folan, waved tiredly to them. “And Ciri’s practically clan herself! We had to come!”

“Yes,” the Skelliger druid – what was his name? – agreed, coming into the dining hall with a final batch of pastries. Roche took several. “Cirilla was my ward as a child, but I have also known Geralt for a very long time. Since before he became a witcher.”

Everyone paused, staring at him. “Really?” someone asked, barely any breath to it.

The druid dipped his head. “We met when we were both very young. He stayed with the Druid Circle in Ard Skellig for a time. We became good friends. After he left, I did not see him again until after the Trials. After he had been changed.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence fell for a moment and Ves broke it by loudly explaining, “we met Geralt when he saved King Foltest from an assassin.” She glared at the Kingslayer, who had no doubt been in league with the other witcher assassin.

“Oh, is that where the ‘Geralt killed a king’ story came from?” Eskel asked.

“No,” Roche scowled, “that happened when someone murdered the King and left Geralt to take the blame.”

“Hardly my fault he was the only witness,” the Kingslayer shrugged. “Was a surprise to see him again, though.”

“...you knew him before that?”

“We fought the Wild Hunt together.”

“You did?” Iorveth asked, clearly surprised. “You’ve fought the Wild Hunt before?”

“Yup,” the Kingslayer said casually. “The School of the Viper was founded to defeat the Hunt. It was lucky Geralt ran into us during his hunt.”

“...Geralt was hunting the Wild Hunt?” Vesemir asked.

“This was before his amnesia,” the Kingslayer said. “He was chasing the hunt to rescue Yennefer of Vengerberg, who had been taken.”

Yennefer grimaced.

“Does that have to do with how we saw you and Geralt die in Rivia?” Dandelion asked, voice unusually sombre. 

“Say what!?” Roche wasn’t alone in yelping.

“It was terrible,” Triss said quietly. “There was a pogrom. Yennefer and Geralt both – we were just in time to see it…”

“About six months later,” Eskel murmured, “we found him outside Kaer Morhen, with no memory of who he was or where he’d come from. Or that he’d died.”

“So… what happened?”

“Ciri,” Yennefer said. “I don’t know how she healed us, but she brought us to a kind of… pocket universe, almost? It was strange. Good, but strange. Until the Wild Hunt appeared.”

“They took her,” the Kingslayer filled in, “and Geralt followed. He found me, saved me from a slyzard attack. In return, I shared what I knew about the Hunt and joined him in his quest.”

“And then?” Keira asked.

“We found them,” the Kingslayer shrugged. “We fought them. They weren’t wraiths, as we’d always thought, but mortal beings who bled under our blades.”

“Oh, well that’s something at least,” Iorveth hummed, and Roche had to admit – he felt a little bit better about signing up to fight the Wild Hunt knowing that they could actually be killed.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“There were too many. Then Geralt made a deal with the leader of the Hunt – his soul in exchange for Yennefer’s.”

Triss inhaled sharply and Yennefer’s expression was almost pained.

“Indeed,” Avallac’h, the standoffish elf who had arrived at some point without any of them noticing, said. Roche was not the only person to jump. “Gwynbleidd rode with the Hunt for a time, though he does not remember it, nor is he likely to.”

“He said he’d recovered his memories!” Dandelion said.

“His memories, yes. But not memories of the Hunt.”

“So… how did he escape?”

“Zireael,” Avallac’h said simply, as though that meant anything to any of them.

“...Swallow?” Iorveth translated uncertainly.

“It’s what he calls Ciri,” Eskel explained.

“And who is Ciri, exactly?” Ves asked. “I mean, Geralt’s daughter, yes, but…?”

“Ciri is… special,” Yennefer said. “There is a power in her blood that is matchless amongst all others.”

“She is the Lady of Space and Time,” Avallac’h said.

“...and that means–?”

“The Elder Blood gives her the power to traverse the spheres,” Avallac’h said. 

“Like… she can travel through time!?”

“Theoretically, yes. She has certainly traveled to worlds at different points in their existence. Whether she has visited her own world’s past, I do not know.”

“Are you fucking for real?” Lambert sputtered.

“Zireael’s power is unlike anything you have ever seen before. It spans beyond your ability to comprehend. It is–”

“–exactly why the Wild Hunt is after her,” Yennefer interrupted. 

“Indeed,” Avallac’h agreed. “The damage they could do with her power at their disposal is far greater than you can imagine. Eredin intends to subjugate all living beings under his power.”

“Eredin. That’s someone in the Wild Hunt?”

“The leader, and King of the Aen Elle. Though he arrived at power through treachery and deceit. We cannot let him take Zireael.”

“Okay,” Roche agreed solemnly. They’d already been planning to protect her, because she was Geralt’s daughter – but if she was more than that, then that just gave them extra motivation.

“So the Wild Hunt are… elves?” Hjalmar asked.

“Aen Elle elves,” Avallac’h nodded primly. “Their purpose is to find and capture slaves to serve the Alder Folk. Now, though, they are interested only in Zireael. She would change everything for them.”

“How so?”

“The Wild Hunt travels to various worlds, and abducts its inhabitants. They do so through the power of their Navigator, Caranthir. He is able to create stable portals that a vanguard like the Wild Hunt can move through.”

“And Ciri changes that… how?”

“Zireael’s power more than outshines Caranthir’s. With her, they could portal entire armies at once, enough to conquer a world.”

“Wow,” Lambert said. “So what you’re saying is, Ciri is mad powerful.”

“That is correct.”

“Wild.”

“How did Geralt end up with a daughter like that?” Iorveth asked. 

“She’s his Child of Surprise,” Yennefer said with a small smile.

“Her mother had powers, too,” the druid said, “though not to such an extent, I do not believe.”

Roche blinked. “You knew her mother?”

“Indeed. I served her grandmother for a great many years.” Something sad crossed his face.

“...who’s her grandmother?” Ves dared to ask.

“Queen Calanthe of Cintra,” Hjalmar was the one to say. “Married to Eist Tuirseach, Jarl of Skellige. That’s how I know Ciri. When we were little, she used to spend the summers in Skellige.”

“Wait,” Roche said slowly, “Geralt’s daughter is Cintra’s Princess!?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“You think you know a guy,” Iorveth muttered under his breath and Roche had to bite back a snort.

“How do you know Ciri, then?” Vesemir asked Avallac’h.

“I have tried to teach Zireael how to harness her power,” he didn’t answer.

“...right,” Vesemir said eventually, the look on his face dubious. He wasn’t the only one.

“So how’d you get involved in this?” Eskel asked Iorveth. “Aside from apparently knowing and despising several other of Geralt’s friends.”

“Letho killed Foltest,” Iorveth said, glaring daggers at the witcher again, “and then went to ground with the Scoia’tael as we prepared to attack Henselt. Before Letho betrayed us and slew many Scoia’tael,” he growled, “Geralt accompanied Vernon to confront us.”

“And me,” Triss interjected, frowning at Iorveth. “I was there too. And stopped you from killing Geralt and all of us!”

Iorveth just shrugged. “Geralt eventually came to assist the Scoia’tael in our task, and fought at our side in Vergen.”

“‘Course,” Roche couldn’t help but say, “he also fought at our side, so really, that witcher neutrality is kinda bullshit.”

Eskel snorted.

“Some bullshit,” Lambert laughed. “You’re all here, aren’t you?” Roche did have to concede that. He was here – even though Geralt had also worked with Iorveth and the Kingslayer… he was here, because Geralt had asked him and defending Geralt’s daughter was worth it.

--

Later, in the famed Kaer Morhen hot springs from Iorveth's POV

Admittedly, Iorveth had been hoping to find Vernon in the hot springs at some point during this journey – but he hadn’t been expecting for that time to involve Vernon overheating and very clearly ignoring his health. 

Iorveth hadn’t thought about it before fussing over Vernon – but the way Vernon slapped his hands aside quickly reminded him of their proper dynamic. He was Vernon’s enemy. He wasn’t supposed to worry about the dh’oine.

Not even when it was clear that Vernon had lost a lot of weight from the last time Iorveth had seen him. 

Iorveth knew food was hard to come by while hiding out in the forest as an outlaw rebel – but he hadn’t really previously put together that that was what Vernon was doing. Their roles had solidly flipped – and now Vernon was the one starving in a fight against the odds while Iorveth was associating with human royalty.

It was weird.

Still, Vernon retreated quickly, making it clear he did not want Iorveth’s concern, and Iorveth drew back, trying to pretend that didn’t hurt.

Of course Vernon didn’t want his concern. Why would he? To him, Iorveth was just another enemy. One who he was sharing a room with, yes – but even that, Vernon seemed to attribute to Iorveth being weird more than anything else.

Iorveth could live with that. He knew he didn’t have a chance, after all. But seeing Vernon once more, when he’d truly thought he might never do so again…

“Oh,” Dandelion said, and Iorveth abruptly remembered that he was not alone. “He doesn’t think you’re together,” Dandelion said slowly, “but you want to be.”

Iorveth cringed, unable to protest, but also fully aware that his affection was hardly a good thing. 

“Hmm,” Dandelion hummed. “Well, at least now he knows it’s an option. But we can do better than that!”

Iorveth blinked. “What?”

“Well, obviously you need help wooing your man,” Dandelion flapped his hand, then brought it to his chest with a flourish, “and I am a connoisseur of wooing! So surely I can help!”

“I – what?”

“Well, he didn’t even realize that he was being wooed!”

Iorveth’s mouth opened to protest – and then he closed it, recognizing a losing battle. Instead, he sighed and asked, “why would you help me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Dandelion shrugged. “This romance has the makings of a marvelous ballad! But it must have a happy ending!”

“…is there any way I can convince you not to sing about my love life?” Iorveth asked, already despairing. 

“Nope!” Dandelion popped the ‘p’ enthusiastically. “So, let’s talk plans! What have you tried so far? Obviously you’re sharing a room – and you gave him food, which he reciprocated!”

Iorveth flushed, remembering that moment. He was positive it meant less to Vernon than it had to him – but having gone without enough food for so long, sharing it was a big deal. And for Vernon to fetch more food and offer him a roll back…

Well. To Vernon, it didn’t mean much. But to Iorveth, it kind of meant everything. And from the way Zoltan had looked at him and Dandelion’s words now, it was clear that had not gone unnoticed. 

Which was embarrassing as all hell, and Iorveth flushed darkly, sinking down to hide in the hot water. “I’m not – I’m not wooing him,” he felt the need to point out.

“You should be,” Dandelion replied easily. “We all might die soon. May as well shoot your shot, right?”

Iorveth frowned at him, but he was already enthusiastically coming up with ideas on how Iorveth could better show Vernon that he loved him. 

Sighing, Iorveth resigned himself to the loss of his dignity. 

Which was good, because Zoltan Chivay entering the hot springs definitely meant that his dignity would be dying a painful death. His relationship with Zoltan was… complicated, and there was a great deal of bitterness on his part due to the way they’d ended things last they’d spoken… but Zoltan also knew him better than most people alive could claim to, which meant he could see right through Iorveth’s attempts at maintaining poise. 

“What trouble are you getting into now?” Zoltan asked Dandelion with amusement on his face, only glancing at Iorveth in greeting. 

Iorveth internally groaned.

“Zoltan!” Dandelion grinned brightly. “You’ll join us, won’t you? We gotta help Iorveth win his man!”

The amusement on Zoltan’s face increased and Iorveth could feel his ears flushing. “You really don’t,” he tried to protest, but Dandelion ignored him.

“Vernon Roche, huh?” Zoltan asked. “Really!?”

“Shut up,” Iorveth grumbled, blushing brightly enough that now he was the one on the verge of overheating. 

“Well, there’s no accounting for taste,” Zoltan shrugged, unconcerned. “But he has no earthly idea that you’re interested.”

“He’s not supposed to,” Iorveth had to say. 

“Well, that’s dumb,” Dandelion said. “How can he respond if he doesn’t know?”

Iorveth opened his mouth to answer, but wasn’t sure how to point out that Vernon very likely wouldn’t respond positively to affection from his enemy. 

“What about Saskia?” Zoltan asked. “Does she know about him?”

Iorveth flushed darker, nodding jerkily. Yes, she did – and it had been embarrassing beyond belief for her to confront him over his ‘obvious crush’. Which, he contested, was not obvious at all – but she hadn’t been swayed.

“And?” Dandelion prompted.

Swallowing hard, Iorveth thought about how to answer. The actual truth was that Saskia, as a dragon, had no interest in monogamy with him. In fact, there were several other people she was interested in (including Zoltan, but for his own peace of mind, he ignored that), though she had minimal time to pursue anything at all. 

“Saskia is human,” he lied, picking his words carefully, “but she grew up in Vergen around primarily dwarves. Older dwarves, too,” he added, because while most of those in the Scoia’tael had been pretty young, Vergen was an old city and there were still some dwarves living there who had been at its founding. “Culturally, she shares more in common with dwarves than humans.” 

Not least because she’d actually spent relatively little time around an average human. Most of her exposure had been through joining the army and going through officer’s training under King Demavend of Aedirn. Which meant that occasionally, she did things that she thought was ‘normal human behavior’, but that actually gave everyone in the vicinity heart palpitations. Like that time she had walked through fire before Iorveth had known she was a dragon and was thereby largely impervious to fire (and, in fact, drew strength from it).

“Dwarves are great,” Dandelion agreed cheerily, “but what’s your point?”

“Dwarves are polyamorous,” Iorveth said bluntly. 

“Ooooooh,” Dandelion nodded while Zoltan hummed in agreement. “So there’s no expectation of exclusivity?”

Iorveth shook his head, flushing. It wasn’t like his regard for Saskia wasn’t commonly known – but it was still embarrassing for his love to be the topic of local gossip. His love for Saskia – and his love for Vernon. 

Most people were probably surprised he was even capable of such an emotion. He still kind of was, honestly. 

It was one thing for Saskia, who inspired him and brought out the best in him. But Vernon Roche? The man who had once been in charge of eliminating the Scoia’tael?

And yet, the same magnetic draw that Saskia held, Vernon had. He couldn’t ignore either one of them for a second. 

And not just because it might lead to missing the knife when it came to stab him in the back. With Saskia, he was confident there was no hidden knife at all. With Vernon… well, he wasn’t sure, but he kind of hoped that there wasn’t one. 

Vernon had willingly slept in his presence. Multiple times, even. And just as Iorveth hadn’t attacked Vernon while he’d been vulnerable – Vernon had not attacked him. That meant something… didn’t it?

“So what’s Saskia think of Roche?” Zoltan asked, lips twitching in what was definitely amusement at Iorveth’s plight.

Iorveth scowled at him. Truthfully, Saskia’s thoughts could be summed up as ‘if you think there’s something worth loving about him, Iorveth, then I’m sure there is’, but Iorveth was absolutely not admitting that. 

“Why do you even care?” he demanded.

Zoltan shrugged. “You and Roche aren’t that different,” was all he said. 

Iorveth’s eye narrowed into a glare. 

“Mortal enemies who succumb to their feelings of true love~” Dandelion’s voice was singsong. “Oh, it’s so romantic! Definitely has the makings of a hit!”

Iorveth was horrified. And mortified. “Please no.”

“Yeah,” Zoltan sighed, patting him on the shoulder with a large hand. It was the most they had touched since their last fight 200 years ago. “That ship has sailed. There’s no reining him in now.”

“Oh gods,” Iorveth muttered, sinking deeper into the water to hide his red ears.

Zoltan laughed and Iorveth would be lying if he said the sound didn’t make something in his chest hitch – but it also, 100%, made him hate Zoltan even more. Asshole.

“It’ll be beautiful!” Dandelion insisted. “I already have the beginning melody. And a strong chorus shouldn’t be hard. Hmm, something about the journey from hate to love.”

Iorveth’s groan was despairing. There was no way this would end well. But what the fuck – they were probably going to die in a few days anyway when the Wild Hunt came. And… it was kind of nice that they were helping him. Annoying and embarrassing and obnoxious, definitely – but also nice.

--

Dandelion had the perfect plan for how to woo Roche. It was a subtle plan, one that could be built upon – but it was perfect!

What was it? Well, everyone knew there was nothing more romantic than the dulcet tones of his voice in a sweet love ballad. As such, any time Iorveth and Roche were in the vicinity together, Dandelion broke out his best love songs.

“Seriously?” Lambert burst out after a full day of this. “We’re about to fight for our lives against some weird fucking elves and you’re singing about true love? Really!?”

“Lambert doesn’t believe in true love,” Aiden added in an undertone, earning himself an elbow in the gut. He didn’t seem to notice. 

“What?” Dandelion shrugged, tuning his lute. It was just the slightest bit off. “Do you want something more upbeat? I can do that.”

“That is so not the issue,” Keira muttered, but her lips were twitching with amusement. 

“No, no, it is an understandable criticism,” Dandelion said generously. He thought about his options, humming a few lines before hitting on the right one. “All right, let’s go energetic!” He strummed his lute hard, opening with a long vocalization.

“Ugh,” Lambert groaned, and Dandelion was above pettiness, but he made a note to get back at Lambert for that at some point. Maybe a White Wolf ballad with a cameo?

“So,” Triss said loudly before any of the witchers could get violent, “why are you singing love songs?”

“Why, my dear Mage Merigold,” Dandelion said grandly, “because love is in the air tonight!” He paused thoughtfully. That had the makings of a good lyric.

“Where?” Lambert grumbled.

In the corner, trying to avoid drawing attention to himself, Iorveth was blushing darkly – and also keeping his own attention focused on Roche, who was bobbing his head absently as he cleaned several knives, Ves sitting next to him. 

“Everywhere,” Dandelion answered Lambert with a bright grin. “For in the face of almost certain death, there can be no force more powerful than love!”

Eskel snorted. “That sounded almost profound.”

“Because it was!” Dandelion pouted. 

Zoltan snickered. “What’s everyone’s favorite love song, then?” he asked.

Lambert’s scoff was disbelieving, but Keira appeared amused and answered. “I always liked The Power of Love,” she said, and Dandelion was delighted to take the prompt and dive into the song.

Keira laughed, singing along with the upbeat melody. Lambert’s emphatic groan just made Dandelion grow louder. 

“What about songs from different areas?” Roche asked when they finished. “Know any good Temerian songs?”

“Of course!”

“I was always a fan of La Vie en Rose,” Ves said, meeting Dandelion’s eye with a smirk like she knew exactly how much he hated playing horn. The song could be played on lute… but it had been made famous on trumpet. The people expected a trumpet. 

“That really needs a piano accompaniment,” he hedged. 

“I think we have a very old piano in storage somewhere,” Vesemir mused. 

Internally panicking, Dandelion searched for a distraction. (He had a trumpet and could play the song, of course… but trumpets sucked. They always made his lips hurt.)

“You know that was originally an elven song,” Iorveth said haughtily.

“Nu uh,” Ves frowned.

“But it’s French,” Roche said, head tilted in consideration. “French was the first language of the human settlers of Temeria, I thought. Not Elder Speech.”

“True,” Iorveth nodded, and Dandelion was hit with the sudden thought that he had been there when all this had happened. Weird. “It was adapted from a song in Elder. Beatha an Ròs.”

“Huh. Are the lyrics very different?” Dandelion couldn’t help but be curious. 

He knew he’d walked into a trap the moment Iorveth met his eye. “Not sure,” Iorveth said casually, “haven’t heard the human version in a lot of years.”

Ugh. Now he was going to have to play it, wasn’t he?

The others seemed to have picked up on Dandelion’s reluctance and Triss encouraged, “why don’t you play it, Dandelion? Then Iorveth can compare.”

Her words were innocent, but the twitching at the corner of her mouth proved that she knew exactly what she was doing.

Dandelion pouted.

“Are we having a concert?” Hjalmar wandered in and asked, looking enthused. “I play some mean drums!”

“Yes! Let’s have a concert!” Dandelion jumped on the excuse. “We can showcase hits from different areas! What’s Skellige’s best love song?”

“Hmm,” Hjalmar actually stopped to consider it.

“Red is the Rose, for sure,” Folan, his friend, said instantly. He began a soft melody, voice surprisingly nice. 

Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows, Fair is the lily of the valley; Clear is the water that flows from the Boyne But my love is fairer than any.

“Eh,” Hjalmar interrupted. “I mean, it’s good, but is it the best Skelliger love song?”

Folan frowned, and Dandelion sensed an argument on the horizon. Usually he would disrupt such a thing – but if it could get him out of playing trumpet…

“Maybe Galway Girl?” Hjalmar suggested.

“Red is the Rose is way better!” Folan insisted. “It’s soft and romantic and slow enough to dance to.”

“You can’t dance to that!” Hjalmar put his hands on his hips. “The most you could do is sway awkwardly and that’s boring!”

Triss and Keira both bit back snorts at that. 

“Plus, the song is sad! It’s about two lovers being unable to be together!”

“To be fair,” Folan said calmly, unbothered by how worked up Hjalmar was, “most Skelliger love songs are actually tragedies.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Folan nodded. “There’s a lot of going off to war and being separated and stuff. At least, that’s most of what Draig Bon-Dhu sings.”

Dandelion tried not to scowl at the mention of the Skelliger bard that totally hadn’t beaten him in a competition. 

“What about Aedirnian love songs?” Zoltan asked Yennefer, who looked up from the book she’d been examining.

“What?”

“Know any good Aedirnian love songs?” Dandelion pounced on the opening Zoltan had provided. 

“Mostly boring court songs,” Yennefer said dismissively. “Or your ridiculous twaddle,” she aimed that remark at Dandelion and he sent her a shitfaced grin.

“I believe you mean my incredibly moving and talented compositions, thank you very much.”

Yennefer snorted derisively. 

“Where else do we have people from?” Triss asked, looking around. “Letho, you’re originally from Nilfgaard, aren’t you?”

“Technically,” Letho the Kingslayer drawled, “the School of the Viper is located in the Tir Tochair mountains on the border of Geso.”

“Aren’t the people of Geso known for being particularly… barbaric?” Iorveth asked sardonically.

Letho’s smile was all teeth. “That’s Gemmera, actually. Famed for the ferocity and strength of their warriors.”

“It’s all Nilfgaard,” Keira dismissed with a sniff.

“So’s half the North,” Letho said genially. 

That made everyone scowl, arguments breaking out, and all in all, while they had undoubtedly learned more about each other, very little wooing actually happened that night. 

Dandelion sighed and strummed a forlorn melody. Several people were shouting at each other, so there was little point in gracing them with his wondrous voice. 

Hmm. That gave him an idea for a ballad about the woes of having one’s voice ignored. The tragedy of it was downright heartbreaking, and the crowds of Novigrad would love it, he just knew.

Distracted from his quest to help Iorveth woo his man, Dandelion pulled out his notebook and began to compose, to the background of loud yelling about where Nilfgaard could stick it.

--

Ves' POV of soaking in the hot springs with the other women

“So, Ves,” Triss said eventually as they soaked. “What’s going in with Roche and Iorveth?”

“What do you mean?” Ves asked, playing dumb mostly because she had no idea how to answer. 

“Well, they’re supposed to be enemies, right?” Keira arched an eyebrow. “And yet, they’re sharing a room? And they bicker like an old married couple.”

Ves grunted. She couldn’t deny that, unfortunately. She sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know what Roche is thinking,” she said, “letting that viper so close.”

“I think Letho is the viper,” Triss joked. “But it’s certainly odd. I’ve barely seen them apart from each other since they arrived!”

“Ugh,” Ves agreed. The Scoia’tael scum had certainly been sticking too close for her tastes. She didn’t know how Roche stood it. 

“Pretty sure the ridiculous bard has interpreted their enmity as love,” Yennefer said. 

“Ooooh, is that what the love songs were about?” Triss shook her head with a laugh. “Dandelion truly is ridiculous.”

“I mean, I can’t blame him,” Keira said. “They act like they’re in love or something, don’t they?”

“Don’t be absurd,” Ves dismissed. “Roche could never love an elf.”

“Well, he sure acts like it,” Yennefer replied, voice cool. Weren’t there rumors that she was part elf?

“Okay, but what about Iorveth and Zoltan? No one saw that coming, right?” Triss arched an eyebrow. “If an elf and a dwarf can have so much history…”

Ves frowned, the thought settling uncomfortably. “Technically, they never actually confirmed everyone’s assumptions,” she pointed out, but it was a weak defense. 

Keira snorted. “Never would’ve thought a killer with Iorveth’s reputation could turn so red.”

They all chortled at that, recalling the way the elf’s ears and face had flushed a dark scarlet. 

“Zoltan, of all people, too!” Triss giggled. “I mean, he hates the Scoia’tael! His type is – is Dandelion, for fuck’s sake!”

“Well, we don’t know what Iorveth was like before fighting humanity,” Yennefer pointed out. “Maybe he was like the bard.”

“No way! Iorveth!?”

Yennefer just shrugged. “He was, apparently, a famous musician. From what I’ve seen, Dandelion is rather representative of such a career and the type it draws.”

“Well,” Triss said slowly, “you’re not wrong. But… really!?”

“What I wanna know,” Keira said, “is what’s up with Lambert and Aiden?”

“Oh?”

“I mean – Lambert isn’t exactly the friendliest guy around. And this guy appears, the only one that Geralt didn’t invite? That says something.”

Ves’ lips twitched, grateful to be off the subject of Roche. “What about Aiden’s response to Lambert complaining about love songs? He ‘doesn’t believe in true love’? That says something.”

“It does!” Keira agreed emphatically. “But what is the question.”

As they began to theorize, Ves couldn’t help but think about their implications about Roche. It couldn’t be true. Surely it couldn’t be true.

How could Roche love an elf? A Scoia’tael elf, no less!

He couldn’t, was the answer. He knew what they’d done to her. He could never sympathize with them.

Nonetheless, she had to admit that Iorveth’s behavior did kind of point to being interested in Roche, even if Roche could never reciprocate. 

“Ves?” Triss called and she realized that she’d zoned out. “You okay?”

She nodded, flushing slightly – but most of her brain was still distracted with the question before her. “Why doesn’t Roche tell Iorveth to fuck off?”

Keira laughed. “If anything, he probably wants to tell Iorveth to fuck him.”

“You take that back!” Ves snarled.

“Whoa, whoa,” Triss held up her hands placatingly. After a moment, she added, “Keira has a point, though. I mean, I don’t think Roche would actually go for Iorveth… but him and Iorveth acting like an old married couple is very much mutual.”

“You don’t think he would?” Yennefer asked. “Because Iorveth is an elf?”

“A Scoia’tael elf!” Ves spat. 

“He doesn’t seem like he minds,” Keira shrugged, and Ves scowled heavily at her. 

“The Scoia’tael are nothing but disgusting barbarians,” Ves snarled. “Roche would never sully himself with their ilk.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Yennefer asked.

“How about a bet?” Keira proposed.

“What?”

“You’re certain Roche could never go for Iorveth,” Keira said simply, “we disagree. So… how about a bet to see who’s right?”

“I’m not gonna bet on Roche’s love life!”

“But you don’t think there’s anything going on there anyway,” Triss pointed out. “So why not find out for certain?”

Ves’ lips pursed. “You do remember we’re here for an actual purpose, right?”

“Yes,” Yennefer said primly, “and when the Wild Hunt comes, we will be ready. But in the meantime, we may as well entertain ourselves.”

“...what would this bet look like exactly?” Ves hedged.

Keira shrugged. “We could help Dandelion’s ridiculous matchmaking attempts and see if it works?”

“It won’t,” Ves said firmly.

“Then there’s no harm in trying, right?”

Ves frowned, disliking the idea, but not really having a good reason to disagree. They didn’t really need her agreement anyway.

“Fine,” she spat. Then she decided that she’d soaked for long enough and rather wanted to be away from these people now. Maybe sorceresses weren’t that bad – but they had to be wrong about Roche. They had to be.

--

Later, from Triss' POV as she and Keira conspire on how to set Iorveth and Roche up. Also, there are some notes where I haven't got the words quite right. Please ignore. (and suggestions welcome)

It was really silly, but right now, what Triss missed more than anything was Foltest’s wine collection. She’d become accustomed to enjoying drinks that actually tasted good. 

Witchers, it would seem, did not care if it tasted good or not. They did not invest in high quality liquor. 

So when Keira suggested a drinking game to loosen Roche and Iorveth’s tongues, Triss didn’t exactly leap at the idea. But it would be nice to have an evening of fun, even if she would have to scrape all of her tastebuds off come morning. 

“Yeah, all right,” she agreed. 

If they were going to die soon, they deserved to cut loose for a little bit beforehand.

Vesemir declined with a heavy sigh. “I’ll start brewing a hangover cure,” he said, longsuffering.

“You could participate,” Triss offered.

He chuckled. “No, I think I shall avoid admitting to all the folly of my youth.”

“Indeed,” Ermion, the Skelliger druid, said when asked. “I believe I am too old to relive those days.”

Avallac’h said nothing, ignoring her when she’d tried to invite him. She didn’t feel the need to try too terribly hard. 

Hjalmar and Folan were positively delighted at the opportunity to get shitfaced, and they eagerly gathered everyone up to play, letting the witchers sort out what alcohol they had available. 

It was fairly late by the time they finally settled down, sitting around the fire with their drinks of choice. Not that there had been much choice, but at least shitty wine was better than Lambert’s home-brewed pepper vodka. Even if Dandelion and Zoltan were both drinking it without a change in expression.

It was still better than Lambert’s other concoction – the gauntlet, equal parts spirit and White Gull. It could get even a witcher wasted and would likely kill an ordinary human. It was for that reason that only the witchers elected that one.

Roche and Ves, predictably, were drinking Temerian rye. Keira sipped the same wine Triss was drinking and was managing a better job of not showing her disgust than she was. Hjalmar and Folan had brought some kind of Skelliger mead, and they were generously sharing with Iorveth, who passed around a pipe in return. Elves were always said to have good weed, and she could now confirm it.

It had been a long time since Triss had gotten high. Much less cross-faded. 

The stresses of preparing for a battle they were likely to lose bled off her with each hit, and she was the one to actually start the game.

“Never have I ever,” she began with deep gravitas. The others fell silent in response, waiting to see if they would need to drink. “Streaked naked through a crowd.”

Dandelion huffed, as she knew he would, but obediently took a shot. Hjalmar did too, grinning and looking prepared to regale them with the story. 

Wanting to avoid that, she nudged the person next to her – who just so happened to be Iorveth, because he was always next to Roche these days. He was sitting a little too close now, even, and Triss held back a smirk. 

“Name something you haven’t done,” she prompted the elf.

“Uh. Never have I ever…” he paused to think and Triss elbowed him again, for extra motivation. He grunted, shifting away from her, but did finally finish, “slept with a sorceress. With good reason.”

Triss scoffed, taking a large gulp of her wine. She wondered if he realized who else would drink at that. Keira, Dandelion, and Roche were the only other ones, and Roche’s face was a little red as several people turned surprised looks on him. 

Triss watched Iorveth’s face as he put the dots together and turned a scowl on her. It was actually mildly terrifying, but she refused to be cowed, smirking instead.

“Never have I ever,” Roche said loudly, and from the look on his face, she knew this one would be targeted to try to divert attention from himself. “Had a wanted poster issued for myself.”

Iorveth rolled his eyes, drinking his mead. Lambert and Aiden also drank, which successfully drew attention away from Roche. 

“Why aren’t you drinking, Kingslayer?” Ves barked.

Letho smiled genially. “I was never caught. There were no wanted posters for me.”

“What about now?” Roche asked, eyes narrowed.

“The Emperor don’t bother with writing down his enemies’ names,” Letho said, entirely casual. 

On the sidelines, Yennefer snorted. She wasn’t part of the game, instead preferring to read what she was pretending was some old archaic text but what Triss was pretty sure was actually erotic love poetry. 

It earned Yenn some glares, and she shrugged, not bothering to look up from her book. “He’s right. Wanted posters indicate that you can’t keep order on your own. Nilfgaard does not use them often. They simply pay the right people and make the problem disappear.”

“Charming,” Lambert said. “Next.”

Ves pursed her lips, glaring at Letho. “Never have I ever been paid to kill a monster.”

The witchers all drank, and then it was Dandelion’s turn. He nudged Zoltan. “Never have I ever lost all my money in a gwent game and had to auction off my trousers.”

Zoltan laughed, taking a long swig. Lambert also took a drink, which earned him a few looks.

“I remember that,” Aiden chuckled. 

Zoltan wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shot a grin at Dandelion, words clearly designed to target the bard. “Never have I ever [something absurd Dandy has done].”

Dandelion drank – but so did Lambert, and several people arched their eyebrows.

“I was very drunk,” Lambert shrugged. 

“When was that?” Aiden asked.

“Remember? That time outside Mirt.”

“Oooh,” Aiden laughed after a moment, “yeah, you were shitfaced.”

“Exactly how often do you two work together?” Eskel asked, frowning at them.

Lambert shrugged, not answering. “You’re up, Skelliger,” he said to Hjalmar.

“Never have I ever slept with anyone not human,” Hjalmar said. The nonhumans in the room, predictably, drank. So did all the witchers, which brought up the question…

“...do witchers count as human?” Triss reluctantly asked. 

“I say no,” Aiden shrugged.

Triss took a sip of her wine. Dandelion, Keira, Roche, and Ves also had to drink, though the look on Ves’ face indicated she wasn’t happy about it. It was probably best not to ask. 

“That was a good one,” Folan said cheerily. “Got almost everyone!”

“So what’s yours?” Hjalmar’s grin showed off a gap in his teeth. 

“Hmm. Never challenged my sister to a race in front of everyone – and then lost.”

They all laughed as Hjalmar drank with a grumble.

“You’re up, Letho,” Eskel prompted.

“Hmm…” Letho’s smile was sweet and Triss didn’t trust it for a second. “They say you’re a whoreson, don’t they?” he said conversationally. Roche’s spine snapped straight. “Never have I ever had sex for money.”

Roche’s fingers curled into a fist, but he took a drink, and Triss noticed that Iorveth actually looked surprised. 

“What if it wasn’t for money, per say?” Dandelion asked loudly, and Triss was pretty sure he was intentionally drawing attention away from Roche’s clear discomfort.

“I did once sleep with a woman to steal her necklace,” Aiden said contemplatively.

“Ooh, was that the sapphire one?” Lambert’s laugh was more of a cackle than was probably appropriate. “That one sold for a lot.”

“Mmhm,” Aiden hummed, grin turning wicked. “Never have I ever jumped off a roof for a bet.”

Lambert rolled his eyes and drank. Dandelion also drank, and was entirely shameless about it. 

“All right,” Lambert cracked his knuckles, waggling his eyebrows at Eskel as he said, “never have I ever slept with a succubus.”

Eskel flushed lightly, grumbling as he downed his drink. Dandelion and Zoltan also drinking wasn’t really a shock, honestly – Geralt almost certainly would have, too, were he here – but Letho was a surprise.

He just smiled, saying nothing in the face of their curiosity. 

Eskel glared narrowly at Lambert. “Never have I ever [something ridiculous Lambert did in a fit of anger or something].”

Lambert scowled, taking a drink. 

“My turn,” Keira said, looking each of them over contemplatively. Triss hoped she was thinking of how to target Iorveth and Roche, because that was supposed to be the whole point of this.

Plus, it was fun.

“Never have I ever written a poem or song,” Keira said. Dandelion drank, of course, but Iorveth did too, and the look Roche cast his way was curious.

And then Lambert surprised all of them by taking another shot.

“...really?” Eskel asked, dumbfounded.

“I was super drunk,” Lambert defended. “It wasn’t very coherent.”

Aiden didn’t say anything, but the way he bit his lip against a smile made Triss wonder.

It was her turn again and she thought about what to say. The whole point of this was to help push Iorveth and Roche together, so…

“Never have I ever,” she hiccuped, “had sex in a tree.”

“Really?” Iorveth scoffed. He drank – and so did Zoltan.

“Seriously!?” Dandelion’s voice was a little too high pitched. 

Neither of them met anyone’s gaze. 

Iorveth cleared his throat. “Never have I ever had a business venture fail in less than a day.”

Zoltan scowled, drinking. 

Roche looked between them, something odd in his expression. But when he spoke, it was clear who he was targeting. “Never have I ever,” he said, voice a tad mischievous, “worn a fancy ball gown and spilled wine all over it.”

Triss’ frown may have more resembled a pout as she drank. What was interesting was that Lambert also drank – and at this rate, the witcher was going to end up the first one wasted. Him or Dandelion, who drank as well.

“Really?”

“It was a lovely dress!” Dandelion said. “Shame the wine couldn’t wash out.”

Zoltan laughed. “You looked stunning, as I recall. Until you tripped and fell out the window after spilling the wine all down your front, anyway.”

“Lies,” Dandelion said easily. “I still looked smashing even then!”

Now they all laughed, turning to Ves for her turn. 

“Never have I ever,” Ves began, glaring at Iorveth, “been chased out of town under threat of death.”

Iorveth’s look was cool as he drank, accompanied by all the witchers – oof, Triss maybe should have guessed that – and Dandelion and Zoltan, who, honestly, she had expected. 

“What about you, Dandelion?” she asked, trying to move them on.

“Hmm.” Dandelion shot what he probably thought was a sly look at Iorveth and Roche. “Never have I ever shared a room with my sworn enemy.”

Iorveth and Roche both rolled their eyes, drinking. Surprisingly, Keira also took a sip and Triss looked to her friend in surprise.

“At Aretuza, remember?” Keira said. “Way back.”

“Ooooh, yeah. Whatever happened to that girl?”

“Nothing interesting, I’m sure,” Keira said tartly.

“All right,” Zoltan hummed, considering his words. Then he smirked slightly and said, “never have I ever kissed a royal.”

From the way he was smirking at Iorveth and how Iorveth rolled his eye in response, Triss figured that was targeted at the elf – but it had some other casualties. Slinging back her own drink, she caught the look on Ves’ face as she glared down at her shot glass – and saw the way her fingers shook as she reached for it.

Roche stole it out from under her, downing her shot and his own. The set of his jaw very clearly dared anyone to make anything of it. 

There was surprise on several faces, including Iorveth and Zoltan’s. Dandelion, who had also taken a shot, swayed into Zoltan’s shoulder, barely held up.

Folan coughed loudly. “Does kissing Hjalmar’s sister as a kid count? She is Queen now.”

“It counts!” Hjalmar said immediately, and something loosened in Triss’ shoulders as their collective attention turned the Skelligers.

“My turn!” Hjalmar's voice was gleefully. “Never have I ever… had an orgy with more than five people.”

There were some laughs in response as Dandelion, Zoltan, Roche, Ves, Keira, and Triss all drank.

“You lucky bastards,” Lambert muttered. 

“Hmm,” Folan chewed on his lip for a moment. “Never have I ever fallen in love with someone I shouldn’t,” he said, and Triss wondered if he’d caught on to their attempts at getting Iorveth and Roche to loosen up.

Iorveth glared at everyone as he drank, much to Roche’s clear surprise. Dandelion let out a exaggeratedly lovestruck sigh, as if fondly remembering the one that was prompting him to drink.

“What kind of question is that?” Hjalmar scoffed. “Bro, you’re totally in love with my sister!”

Folan flushed red. “There’s nothing wrong with that! We grew up together!”

Triss giggled.

“Your turn, Viper,” Keira prompted.

Letho’s smile was slow and cold. “Never have I ever,” he drawled, “gotten my second killed.”

This time, Iorveth’s scowl was murderous and Triss winced, remembering the beaten form of the elf who had pleaded with her and Geralt to warn Iorveth of the way Letho had doublecrossed him. Ciaran hadn’t lasted long enough to see the Scoia’tael reclaim the prison barge he’d been on.

“Hey,” she snapped, “let’s keep it friendly, guys, come on.”

Letho just shrugged.

Aiden cleared his throat a little too loudly and obligingly moved the game along, targeting Lambert as he said something about drunkenly falling out of a tree. Lambert retaliated, but next was Eskel, who seemed delighted to poke fun at Lambert. 

At this rate, Lambert was likely to be the first to drop out, and he clearly knew it from the way he half-pouted, grumbling under his breath.

Keira and Triss both designed their questions to highlight the way Iorveth and Roche were sitting with their shoulders pressed together, helping keep the other upright. They were all more than slightly soused at this point, though the Skelligers had drank less than the rest of them.

“Man, our lives are clearly not interesting enough!” Hjalmar lamented before adding, “never have I ever lived more than 30 years.”

“Oh come on,” everyone except Ves and Folan grumbled, taking their shots. 

“All right,” Zoltan said, “Dandelion’s done.”

“What?” Dandelion protested. “I’m fiiiiiiiine,” he slurred. “I could do thish all niiiiiight.” He tried to stand and promptly collapsed onto the floor in a sprawl. “Or not.”

“Should we help him up?” Keira asked uncertainly.

“Nah,” Zoltan said.

“I like the floor,” Dandelion giggled. He then began to drunkenly hum various melodies, actually providing kind of a nice backdrop for the game.

Lambert was the next one to drop out, slumping heavily onto Aiden. Aiden laughed and bowed out, dragging the no doubt heavy carcass of the drunken Wolf upstairs.

Keira’s eyes followed them curiously, but Triss was distracted by Roche getting her with ‘never been seasick’. Vision going double, she decided maybe it was time for her to concede as well. 

Iorveth and Roche dropped out after the same statement – never been knocked out, of all things. They stayed in place, holding each other up and giggling stupidly at the rest of them. 

The look on Ves’ face clearly showed her displeasure with this, but she didn’t seem to know what to do. She’d drunk a fair amount, but still seemed surprisingly stable, words not slurring at all when it was her turn. 

It only took a few more questions to knock out Keira and Eskel both, leaving the Skelligers, Ves, Zoltan, and Letho as the last ones standing.

--

And that's all!

You know, I was gonna talk about the plan for where the fic is going, but this is already super long oops. It's gonna be fun, though. I'm approaching the end of the 1st arc, then we have the Battle of Kaer Morhen and its aftermath, which includes Roche receiving a message from Dijkstra about the opportunity for a 'Free' Temeria. Since several of those present have kingslaying experience, this leads to Vernon Roche, Ves, Iorveth, Letho, Zoltan, and Dandelion all going on a road trip to Novigrad together 😂😂😂 I'm looking forward to it. There's going to be much drama and some angst and some eventual reconciliation and making out lol

[dalkyeom]

(part 2) of my spiderman!vernon thoughts ft. his friends.

2/3 of BooSeokSoon adopts Vernon as an honorary member of the radio gang since he and Seungkwan come as a package deal at this point

Vernon feels kind of bad just being a member in name so he’s listed as a photographer together with Wonwoo

Unfortunately, his pictures always come out blurry. He’s not exactly fit for this role but they keep it as keepsakes. Seokmin decorates their prompt board with the pictures.

The only pictures he takes that are of decent quality are those that feature Dokyeom the pigeon

He got his first suit upgrade indirectly through Seokmin. The latter being part of the theatre org.

They kind of plan their halloween outfits in advance and that set off the lightbulb in his brain. Vernon’s known as kind of a nerd, so claiming a superhero costume wasn’t unexpected. (Cheol helped him with the electrical parts; Joshua and Jihoon helped with assembling the cool parts bc of their cosplay experience)

Sobs bc BSS ft. Vernon and Wonu halloween cosplays

Vernon made 2 costumes btw! He dressed up as a jaeger pilot for halloween.

They can’t hang out at the radio booth all the time so their 2nd hang out base are the dorms (and eventually the apartment)

That’s how they meet Lee Chan, Seungkwan’s dorm mate. He’s the unfortunate victim to his midnight theories of who and what Spiderman is.

He’s very observant though. Most likely the first one to put two and two together and uncovers Vernon secret to being the masked spider slinger.

[chocosvt]

HER | part four.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.5k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s! 

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that! 

bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.

here we goo. part four :o i can't believe it's already the fourth part!! i guess the last chapter ended on somewhat of a cliffhanger so may this quench your curiosity! but, beyond that...

this part has a punch of its own... dotdotdot...

⇢ part one | part two | part three | part five | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

Wonwoo was lucky to discover an empty, spare guest bedroom down an off-shooting hallway for you two to refuge in while the volcano settled upstairs. Furthermore, he was grateful that you had relaxed enough to be released from his straightjacket arms, and even more grateful the room was quiet. The confrontation had shot his nerves. His hands were still trembling. As you took a seat on the bed, Wonwoo moved toward the window and stared into his darkly silhouetted reflection, taking paced breaths until everything stopped pressing down on him. He’d already had his fair share of stalling fights between Vernon and other drunks at the downtown bars.

He had never anticipated stopping you from a fight. 

“Fuck, I feel like absolute shit…” you groaned, and when Wonwoo turned around, he saw you crunched up, fingers digging at your hair while you sat at the very edge of the primly dressed bed.

“Should I get you anything?” He asked in a soft voice, coming over to crouch down in front of you. “Do you want some water?”

You wouldn’t look at him, instead staring into your knees that were bent and flush against your chest. For a moment, there was nothing said, until you sniffed that very distinctive sniffle of someone who’d just snorted a line. Rubbing at your nose, you nodded.

“Please?”

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Wonwoo didn’t know where to get water, though he did remember the bottle dropped at the bottom of the staircase. He practically ran to grab it. Coming back into the spare room, Wonwoo clicked the door shut as quietly as possible and joined you at the bed.

“Here,” he offered, uncapping it for you.

You sipped from it eagerly, gulp after gulp, then wiping off your lips when it became too cumbersome to swallow.

He took the bottle back, capping it again and throwing it somewhere random on the bed. Wonwoo could see with concern that you weren’t entirely there—jaded, from the drinking and smoking and intaking a dangerous substance you probably shouldn’t have. Your face appeared so hazy, disconnected, as though you were staring off into a warm light buried in the distance that only presented itself to you.

“That was a lot, wasn’t it?” Wonwoo sighed into the dark room, rolling up his sleeves, unsure of what he should do or even say.

You sniffled again, and shook your head. “I feel sick.”

“I know, I’m sorry... what do you want to do?”

Breathing out heavily at the small amount of labour it required to look backward at the bed, you nodded. “I want to lie down.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo said, feeling relieved, “that’s a good idea.”

You smiled at him, though it was misted over and a bit loopy. 

He watched you lean down, fiddling with the tiny buckle belonging to the right heel strapped over your foot. Afraid you might hit the floor like a flour sac if you stayed hunched over for too long, he instantly squatted down to help you, gently nudging your hand away.

“I’ll take them off for you,” Wonwoo reassured, loosening the buckle enough to slide the expensive, black heel from your foot, doing so with the utmost delicacy, akin to sorting fine china.

Just before he removed the other heel, Wonwoo caught you staring down at him with a particular admiration behind those glassed eyes that made his entire chest become swollen. He tried to ignore the feeling, no matter how elated it made him on the inside.

“Thank you.”

“Uh, no problem,” Wonwoo answered, standing up and gesturing to the bed, “do you think you’ll take a nap?”

“… I don’t know.”

“That’s okay… should I get Princess to come stay with you? Or, I can always get Mingyu, too. Whatever you think is best.”

You were still looking back at the guest bed, unresponsive, and Wonwoo had wondered if you even heard him speak. The moonlight that cascaded in from the windows patched an intricate shadow overtop the quilt, and you started spreading your hand across it, as though you could pick up the silhouette and move it.

And then you glanced at Wonwoo again, smiled slightly. “Would you lay down with me… if I asked you?”

He immediately cleared his throat, “uh, lay down with you?”

“Mmhm,” you nodded, “I need your company. Please?”

He clenched his fist tight, an index nail carving along the cuticle of his scarred thumb. Logically, Wonwoo should leave—he should march back upstairs and go search for Mingyu or Princess to help nurse you through your brain fog. Realistically, however, Wonwoo wasn't going to do any such thing. Realistically, Wonwoo was very high, and very delirious, and completely at your beckon.

Kicking off his sneakers, Wonwoo crawled onto the guest bed alongside you. He breathed out a sigh of comfort as his back was perfectly cushioned by the supple pillows organized against the headboard. If he thought about it for too long—relaxing on a stranger’s bed in a stranger’s home at two or three in morning beside a girl who’d just snorted coke upstairs in the attic and nearly leapt on her friend in a fight—his head would start to ache. So, Wonwoo didn’t think about it. He let everything happen as it naturally desired to.

You tucked yourself close against Wonwoo, closer than what was appropriate for two people who were presumably friends, stretching your leg across his waist and latching it over his hip, an arm around his wide chest, your head settled cozily underneath his chin.

He couldn't care less about the morality.

Especially when he wriggled his arm beneath you, his knuckles coming to stroke up and down your bare, soft back, feeling along the subtle groove of your spine with every lulling, especially tender caress. Truly, Wonwoo didn’t know why he cared so remarkably little about how wrong it was to touch you and hold you. Maybe it was your shallow and warm breathing that kept tickling his neck, or the weight of your leg against his pelvis—you as a whole seemed to smudge his rationality—his own personal drug.

“Can you please tell me a story?”

“Hm?” Wonwoo murmured, stilling his fingertips at the top of your shoulder blade. “Tell you a story? Why’s that?”

“Because, my head hurts. And I want a distraction.” You then poked your face up from his neck, staring at Wonwoo through the clouds in your eyes, sounding sleepy enough to lose consciousness. “And I love the sound of your voice, and how it makes me feel.”

He proceeded to rub something off your chin with a few brushes from his thumb, and nodded, tucking your head back down.

“Okay… let me think for a second...”

“Wait—” you suddenly mumbled, awkwardly reaching behind you for his hand rested against your shoulders, “—I liked when you were going up and down. It felt good. Please, can you do some more?”

“Yeah, sorry. I just stopped to think,” Wonwoo hummed with an amused smile, continuing to stroke his knuckles and hearing the heavy sigh you breathed aloud.  

He thought a few moments longer for a story that he could tell you; something interesting, but not too detailed.

“I’ve got one.”

He made a rumbling noise in his throat to clear it, staring off at the dresser mirror opposite to the bed, where Wonwoo could just decipher that vague, silvery thread outlining your entangled bodies.

“When I was around eleven, twelve years old, my family used to go to this waterpark every summer, like an hour car ride from our house. My brother and I made up this game. We called it lifeguard, or, like, swimming attendant. Basically, you play dead in the water, and whoever’s the attendant has to save you. Anyway, it was a pretty stupid fucking game to play at a water park as you can imagine. But when we got there, the lifeguard wasn’t in his chair. So, like, my brother, trying to be cool or funny, thought it would be a good idea to sit in the chair himself. I had to pretend to drown.

The problem with that, though—the actual life guard was coming back. He sees me pretending to drown, thinks I’m actually drowning—I don’t know, I guess I was selling it super well—and he dives right into the water, pulls me out and everything, lies me across the cement all surgical like. I’m so fucking embarrassed, my brother’s ran off somewhere—I just go along with it while everyone’s watching, knowing damn fucking well I’m a sham. My mom’s panicking. She didn't realize it was part of some idiotic game we made up. I hated my brother for a week straight. I’ve refused to swim ever since.”

There was a chuckle against his neck, and Wonwoo felt your body vibrate with a soft fit of laughter. He hadn’t recalled that story in years, though it dusted off the latent anger toward his older brother that he had never quit holding. Nonetheless, it was still rewarding to tell you. That water park was once his most cherished place to visit, admittedly during a much different period in his life, when the only thing he worried over was whether or not they’d have his favourite ice cream flavour or if he might miss that gigantic bucket full of freezing water that dropped every half-hour.

“I’m sorry that happened…” you mumbled against his neck, your breath akin to a sweeping feather, “but it’s a bit funny.”

“No, I know,” Wonwoo agreed, grazing his hand low to the base of your back, “I can laugh at it now... even if I’m still mad.”

“Can I ask you something, please?”

“Sure.”

“I just want to know… when did you move here? Did you come here for university? Or, was it before that? And, like… did your family come with you? Did you move alone? I’m just curious…”

“So, I spent two years at a university in Korea, for something different than what I’m doing now. It was accounting stuff—”

“Oh, more boring.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo laughed, reaching his hand underneath the warm plump of your thigh to adjust it more comfortably against his hip, “I actually agree with you. It was boring, and I was… to put it lightly, miserable. Very, very miserable. So, I dropped it, had a really long and excruciating conversation with my brother about the whole thing—what I wanted to do, where I wanted to go. I have an uncle that lives out here. Not close to our school. He’s hours away. But I figured, I’m old enough. I need, just—I need a fucking change. I’ll move out, stay with him, find my footing. And, uh, I ended up here.”

You smiled against his skin, lips practically pressed at his neck, and then you exhaled, pulling a shiver along the length of his spine.

“Hm… I’m glad you made that choice.”

Wonwoo’s fingers fleshed deeper against the underside of your thigh as he sighed into the still bedroom air, thinking back to the pressure, the bickering between himself and his parents, the desire to at last pull the pin and take a risk, even if said risk was going to crash and humiliatingly burn at his feet. In a way, it had. But with you, his reward was building back up again. It wasn’t all fruitless.

“Me too.”

"Thanks for sharing that with me,” you murmured, snuggling impossibly closer into his body and breathing him in like the sweet, baked scent of pastries fresh from a hot oven, or the airy honeysuckle outside on a summer’s day. “I like knowing about you.”

For once, Wonwoo wasn’t scared that you knew.

Maybe he should be scared. He wasn’t being cautious enough, instead pouring more soul into his heart than his logic. But then—why did it feel so good in that moment? Something he was terrified of had flipped on its head and turned into a real, tangible happiness. He continued to lay with you in the silence. The ceiling was full of shadows that he studied to keep himself awake while his thumb rubbed easy circles into your thigh. Your body was giving him heat.

If no one ever opened that door, Wonwoo wouldn’t complain.

He could lay there until the earth caved in.

“Wonwoo?”

“Mm?”

“I want to try getting up now.”

Rubbing the heel of his palm against his eye, he massaged away the desire for sleep that had finally managed to catch up to him.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Okay—” he began slowly pushing himself upward, helping you in the process with an arm at your waist, “—I’ll grab your shoes.”

“Thank you.”

Nonetheless, he knew you couldn’t stay cocooned against him forever, even if he wanted it more than his next breath. It felt awfully vapid to lose your warmth. The air around him was so much colder, like an icy metal. Wonwoo had nearly stumbled over his sneakers as he searched around the end of the bed, prompting him to squat down and shove his shoes back on. Next, he collected your lacquered, expensive high heels, which had practically blended into the darkness if not for the moonlight raining through the windows.

You were sat at the edge of the blankets, waiting for him.

“How do you feel? Better?” Wonwoo asked while crouching at your knees and fishing up the right heel first.

“My head still hurts a little. But I think I’ll be fine,” you admitted, allowing Wonwoo to softly touch at the back of your ankle as he helped guide your foot through the black loop. “It’s like—I can feel it a lot more now. I’m getting that weird, dreamy sensation, right before it really hits. And my mouth is kinda dry.”

“Hm,” Wonwoo hummed, now helping to fasten on the other heel, “I’m sure there’s more water upstairs. Is that too tight?”

You wriggled your toes and rolled your foot.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you so much.”

“Should we try standing?”

Wonwoo straightened back up, reaching out his hand for you to grab. Carefully, you intertwined your fingers with his, and then he accepted some of your weight as he gave you a supportive tug. At first, you wobbled, but Wonwoo was right there to steady you.

You complained about the dizziness, but after a few more steps it had gotten better, and Wonwoo let go of your hand.

“Oh—uh,” he gently grasped your elbow, “before you leave—”

Lifting up your arms, you watched rather cluelessly while Wonwoo pinched at the fabric of the very short, white skirt and tugged it further down your thighs, covering the sensitive areas where it had ridden up when you were stretched out against him. A hand latched into his shoulder for balance, and you sighed out gratefully.

“Fuck, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Please don’t tell me if you saw my underwear.”

He laughed, “I won’t.”

A manicured finger scratched your cheek.

“… They’re pink… with hearts.”

Wonwoo stayed quiet, but then he couldn’t fight his smile.

“… I know. Cute.”

You seemed flustered at the offhanded comment, which came as a surprise to Wonwoo, because he truthfully didn’t believe much—if anything at all—could fluster you. The phone in his back pocket buzzed with a text message and Wonwoo assumed it was Vernon asking him about where he’d gone. It was best to go back up to attic and reunite with your friends rather than dwell in the guest bedroom for an eternity. Though, Wonwoo didn’t want to leave at all.

“Uh, Wonwoo? Can you please wait one second?”

As you two paused at the door, his hand fell off the knob.

“Everything okay?”

Uncharacteristically, you fumbled with your fingers, tugging at the joints like they were disconnectable. He tilted his head at you, curious, and when your eyes locked with his he bit back a dumb facial expression at how wide your pupils had dilated, like an ocean abyss.

“Um, so, that girl Seokmin was talking about earlier? Sarah Gomez?” Sarah? He knew you meant Sierra, though he didn’t bother correcting the mistake. “I chatted to Vernon about it. He said she likes you and was flirting and... well, like, I-I have no issue if you… if you like her and want to do something, and—” you took in a really big, long breath that felt like a reach for self-comfort, “—just, if you two want to start hanging out, if you can still make time for our writing.”

Wonwoo stared at you for a second, blinking vacantly.

“… Oh, you think—no, Her. It’s not anything. It’s nothing."

“Nothing?”

“Yeah, nothing. I promise.”

And it was exactly that. Wonwoo would never—could never feel anything even half as strong as the yearning he felt for you. It was something unmeasurable, something bigger than the universe, and yet, it fit into the core of his own chest like a dense and heated star compacting in on itself. Despite being so numbed by heartbreak, and years of a growing apathy, and all that disappointment he harboured toward himself, Wonwoo had sensed each and every time you thawed him out. You—a light, and yet a cold, awakening breeze.

The girl he was in love with.

Stupidly and utterly in love with.

Your shoulders began to sink as you relaxed at his remark.

Wonwoo shook his head. “She’s nice. But I’ve talked to her once, and that was tonight, for like, two minutes at most.”

“Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry. I just—I didn’t want you to think that I hated it, or that I was going to jump her ‘cause of what happened upstairs… I don’t want to talk about what happened upstairs, actually, but that’s not what—anyway. Sorry. And, uh, thank you… for being there for me. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“No, no. Nothing is ruined,” Wonwoo reassured you, picking up your hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’m having fun. It’s all a lot but… I’m enjoying it. I’m always going to be here for you, alright?”

You smiled at him. It was oddly shy, but Wonwoo loved it.

“So, if you want to head back up, I’ll join you soon enough," he said. "I’m gonna attempt to find a washroom in this place.”

“There’s one by the staircase. Clara and Bells used it.”

He kissed his teeth as you giggled at him.

“… Oh. Right.”

After you disappeared back upstairs to the attic, Wonwoo locked himself in the washroom for a moment of quiet. He checked his phone, realizing the time—3am—in addition to the horribly spelt text messages from Vernon, saying that Mingyu had taken Bells on a walk outside to calm her down. He sighed, signing off on the texts with a thumbs up. The night was only getting louder. Wonwoo didn’t know how much longer he could survive or who he would even call upon to get a ride home. Everyone was plastered or buzzed.

He had no desire to sleep here overnight, though if push came to shove, Seungcheol would likely have guest bedrooms to spare.

Turning on the sink faucet, Wonwoo set his glasses aside and cupped a handful of cold water against his face. It was a shock at first, yet it felt so refreshing, and Wonwoo couldn’t help but splash some more water until he felt the drops begin uncomfortably running down to his elbows and nudged the tap back off. Once patting dry his cheeks and forehead with a towel folded through a rung secured into the wall, Wonwoo proceeded to sit down on the tiled floor.

Readjusting the glasses back to his face, he stared across the dimly lit room at the half-opened shower curtain and its patterned seashells. For a second, he didn’t move at all. But then Wonwoo was getting up, walking over to the curtain and yanking it fully open. He returned to his initial position, sitting against the wall, and started counting all the different seashells. They weren’t organized in rows like the yellow rubber ducks from his aunt’s shower curtain back in Changwon—they were miscellaneously placed, spotted more than organized, and Wonwoo counted all the shells at least three times.

“Thirty-two,” he whispered to himself.

Deep within his pocket, Wonwoo’s phone buzzed again.

[ Vernon | 3:09 am ]: h ey glasses where tf are yoi?

He decided to text his friend back, though he knew Vernon was most likely off his face and wouldn’t notice for another hour.

[ Wonwoo | 3:09 am ]: Washroom. Be up in a few.

To his surprise, Vernon’s little typing bubble immediately appeared. Wonwoo developed a sick, squirmy feeling in his stomach for some reason, only to watch the bubble abruptly disappear and not return. God—he hoped the boy hadn’t fucking fallen out the window or slipped off the billiard table in his inebriation.

Setting his phone down on the tiles beside him, Wonwoo raked his fingers through his hair and sighed aloud again. He didn’t care much about messing up the very particular way he’d brushed and swooped it. Instead, Wonwoo thought about you.

He was just with you, and yet he missed you.

Unsure of when the feeling had ever started, Wonwoo began to recognize the ache for you  some time ago—and like a little kitchen light in a prairie house that never burnt out, seen across meadows and rivers, even through the darkest nights—Wonwoo had felt the ache ever since. He thought it would die away quietly. It hadn’t. It wouldn’t. He thought that love would never again step foot inside the house that was his heart. But it had. And it was the little light.

His phone vibrated.

Wonwoo glanced down at the illuminated screen, skimming over the jumbled, misspelt words to Vernon’s text with little regard, thinking nothing of it other than how sky high his friend was.

Another text. He scooped the phone up, grumbling to himself.

[ Vernon | 3:12 am ]: yo I dont mean t be weird buthahha I’m not gbnna lie u shud come upsrairds of u wanna see it

[ Vernon | 3:13 am ]: acyaully don’t lol

Wonwoo had not a fucking clue what Vernon was rambling about and was half-considering it to be all hallucinations. Maybe another fight had broken out. Maybe you were dancing on the table and had kicked over someone’s drink. There was a small cherry pit of curiosity in his stomach, though Wonwoo wasn’t ready to get up. He sat on the washroom floor for another ten minutes or so, deciding that he would go back upstairs, pitch his goodbyes, and book an Uber.

It had been fun, tiring, enlightening even.

But Wonwoo had no energy left to give.

After playing with his hair in the mirror and smoothing out the pieces he’d disheveled, Wonwoo at last pulled open the door and emerged back into the warm corridor, the music still soaring underneath his feet. He began making his way upstairs and back to the attic space. There were at least ten new people to fill the smoky room, none of whom Wonwoo recognized, though he assumed most were Seungcheol or Mingyu’s friends. Vernon was seated on the couch, his arm sunk around a girl’s shoulders—the girl that had almost bumped into him when leaving the kitchen hours ago.

Someone had cranked the music loud enough to rumble the speakers sitting on the desk. Wonwoo could hardly decipher a single word that came from Vernon’s mouth, forcing him to lean further down as he grasped onto his friend’s hand and announced his leave.

“Awe, you’re headin’ out?!” Vernon shouted into his ear.

“Have to,” Wonwoo replied, “my brain’s gonna pop.”

Vernon slapped his shoulder. "All good—hey, thanks for even comin’ along, y’know? Stay safe. Text me when you get home.”

“Yeah, will do. Uh, you seen Princess or Seungcheol?” He asked by Vernon’s head. “I’d be nice to see them before I leave.”

“No fuckin’ clue where they went, to be honest!” Vernon answered, leaning back with a shrug. “Oh! Fuck!” He’d suddenly latched onto Wonwoo’s arm. “Dude, you missed it. But if you’re lookin’ for Her—no luck. She’s uh, a little busy right now.”

“Hm?” Wonwoo mumbled. “I can’t fucking hear.”

Vernon proceeded to jerk his friend closer, breath fanning hot against Wonwoo’s ear. He turned frozen solid as he intently listened.

“Her—she came back upstairs, high as a fuckin’ kite. Mingyu came back up right after. I don’t know what happened, but, like, within a few minutes, they were on each other, man. I got scared—thought they were gonna start fuckin’ on the table. But, nah, Mingyu took her to the bedroom down the hall. We all scurried down and listened for a sec. Holy shit—she had to be gettin’ pounded—like, must’ve been face down ass up, fuckin’, gettin’ her guts rearranged or some shit. They were both so out of their minds. It was insane, y’know. You’re not gonna see her for a good while.” Vernon then sat back with a hopeless, husky laugh. “Mine as well shoot her a fuckin’ text and hope she can still read when Gyu’s done with her!”

For a second, Wonwoo didn’t believe him. Not at all. He thought it was a joke—staring at his friend, waiting for his face to break like sundried clay, not caring whatsoever that the girl tucked against his side was clearly annoyed at their conversation and waiting for Wonwoo to leave. It was all a stupid joke and Wonwoo wanted to hear Vernon say it. And then, he would punch him for it.

“Funny,” he chuckled.

But Vernon merely shrugged, folding an ankle over his knee. “Hey, Glasses. Dunno what to tell ‘ya! S’all true. I saw it. So Did Seungcheol n’ Princess. Go down there! Listen for yourself!”

Wonwoo shook his head, beginning to laugh. “Go fuck yourself.”

“Jeez! I’m just tellin’ you the truth!”

“And you expect me to believe that?” Wonwoo shouted overtop the bass, smiling, even though he was feeling more and more enraged under the surface. “You’re high as a kite, too, yeah?”

“I saw it, man!”

“Yeah. Actually—go fuck yourself. Night.”

Vernon stretched out a hand, attempting to catch Wonwoo by the elbow as he brushed past him, yelling something that was drowned to the humid, loud atmosphere. Wonwoo still believed it was a joke—a very awful, incredibly distasteful joke that he would probably ignore Vernon over for at least a few days. Wonwoo knew he wasn’t your boyfriend. He knew you most likely didn’t reciprocate the all the same feelings with as much passion as him. But you wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t discard him after he’d been so vulnerable.

He came to the corridor and gazed along the hallway.

Go down there. Listen for yourself.

Vernon’s words wriggled in a bold font to the forefront of his mind, even when he wanted to squeeze them out. But Wonwoo was exhausted, and now highly annoyed, and he knew the last thing he should do is excavate a truth that would be better off buried.

The thing was—Wonwoo had to know.

It was excruciating to not know.

And so, he walked up to each door, lightly attempting the handle or pressing his ear to the wood. He found nothing, and the relief that opened up and flowed throughout his body was equivalent to the freshest breath of air. Wonwoo was about to text Vernon that his stupid stunt had failed when he heard it—that suspicious, croaked sound which prompted his fingers to stop dead in their typing tracks.

He stared into the door, focusing hard.

No, it was the music. It had been playing all night, anyway.

But then there was a thump. Once, twice, three times.

Wonwoo shoved his ear back against the crack in the threshold, one hand coming to rest ever so softly on the brass handle.

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

Muting even his breath in case it interfered with or somehow warped the noise, he listened longer, his stomach twisting in knots.

“Fuck! Mingyu!”

There was ice in his veins. All the blood froze so quickly. It was cold enough to turn his skin to frost but Wonwoo kept listening.

“If I fuck you any harder, I’ll break this fuckin’ bed, sweetheart. Is that what you want, huh? Tell me, baby. Are you that much of a slut for me? Hm? Are you that much of a whiny slut?”

“Y-Yes, Gyu! M’n-nothing—ff-fuck—!”

“Answer me or I’ll stop!”

“No—nonono—m’such a slut for you! Such a whiny l-little... Fuck! Mmm—c-can’t take it, Gyu! S’too much!”

“Move your fuckin’ hand! Take it, just like you asked for. If you’re gonna act like such a slut then fuckin’ take what I give you!”

Wonwoo couldn’t bear to hear a second longer. He knew it was your voice, your skin, your breath, your pleasure. It was entirely you at the rigid and exploitative hands of Mingyu. And Wonwoo felt sick. Something acidic surged up his throat in a stinging burn. With a hand latched over his mouth, Wonwoo raced toward the washroom, immediately locking himself inside before collapsing at the toilet and upheaving all the contents in his stomach. The nausea had never hit him so quickly before. His insides filled with even more dread.

But he wasn’t actually sick.

It was merely the horrible, haunting anxiety that came with opening up—its effects reaping toxically into his flesh because it had all been thrown back in his face like a sloppy high school lunch tray. It was hearing the girl he positively loved moan and writhe and beg for another man who didn’t care for her interests or thoughts or soul.

He’d cut himself open for you, but it didn’t seem to be enough.

—JUNE 16TH.

By the time Wonwoo woke up, it was five in the evening. His face was practically plastered—no, moulded, into the pillow—with a dried trace of drool streaked down his cheek. Wonwoo had never drooled before. The groan he released upon rolling from his stomach to his back was groggy and brittle, with his hand slapping cluelessly against the bedside table until he managed to grab hold of his black-framed glasses. He slid them on, and then wiggled further up the bed.

Before his irritable hunger, or the twisting of his full bladder, or the headache pulsing behind temples, Wonwoo felt a very gorged wound scissored into his heart. It was stinging raw, like sea salt from the ocean touching at an unbeknownst cut hidden somewhere sensitive on the body. Except, Wonwoo knew exactly where the cut was and how deep it ran and how much he was struggling to even breathe. He stumbled into the washroom, switched on the faucet, but Wonwoo couldn’t even bring himself to stare into the mirror.

Instead, he crouched down to his haunches, hands shakily gripping at the edges of the stone-cold porcelain for stability while the water gushed above him. With his eyes pinched shut, Wonwoo focused hard on every breath he took, so hard that white smudges began blossoming against the pitch blackness of his eyelids. His mouth suddenly jutted open, and he inhaled the biggest breath he could manage, but it cracked somewhere in the middle and Wonwoo knew he was going to start sobbing.

Unable to hold the sink any longer, Wonwoo let go of its sharp edges and curled up tight on the floor, the tears sprouting unbridled and glossing to stain over the rouge of his cheeks. In his mind, it was the most pitiful sight. He thought he would have learned his lesson the first time about opening up and trusting another, yet, somehow, he was back in the same fucking place. He thought he was being cautious. Not cautious enough. He thought he was taking his time. Not enough time. Wonwoo never judged anything right.

—JUNE 17TH.

[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: hey glasses

[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: haven’t heard from u since Friday

[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: pls tell me u made it home alright

…

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:30 am ]: Hey Wonwoo! It’s Seungcheol (got ur number from Seokmin btw)

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:31 am ]: Really nice to meet you and glad you could make it out! Ur a super cool dude. Idk if you like pickup basketball but I always play on weekends at the uni B gym. If you ever want to come down or wtv let me know!

[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:35 am ]: Princess says ur awesome

…

[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: Hey Won

[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: Make it home alright?

[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: It was nice to see you!!

—JUNE 18TH.

[ Vernon | 10:01 am ]: Seokmin and I r going mini-putting at that glow in the dark place I got fired from lol u in or nah?

[ Vernon | 10:25 am ]: helloooooooo? u there beautiful?

…

[ Vernon | 3:45 pm ]: glasses are you fucking alive dude?

[ Seokmin | 3:50 pm ]: Everything okay? Did u get sick?

—JUNE 19TH.

[ Vernon | 7:13 am ]: okay haha it’s not funny anymore

[ Vernon | 7:13 am ]: wonwoo I swear if you don’t fucking text me back in the next 12 hours I’m breaking ur door down cuz wtf man im fuckin pissing my pants over here

…

[ Her | 9:00 am ]: hey!!

[ Her | 9:00 am ]: I hope you made it home okay :) sorry I didn’t text you.  I’ve been sick as a dog omg but I feel better today

[ Her | 9:02 am ]: I’m so glad u came even if it was a little tense or overwhelming at times lol. I loved seeing u there. don’t quite rmbr everything that happened but I’m sure it was fun

[ Her | 9:03 am ]: miss you a lot alrd

[ Her | 9:10 am ]: we still good to work on the book tmo?

Since he slept well into the afternoon, Wonwoo didn’t notice any of the morning texts until much later, when he finally sat down at the dining table to slowly nibble a piece of strawberry jam toast. It wasn’t that he was ignoring Vernon or Seokmin’s texts, more so the fact he had been trying to stay off his phone altogether. It was just too much and he couldn’t afford to worry about anyone else but himself, though, he supposed it might be time to answer poor Vernon.

Wonwoo had disregarded your texts—didn’t glance at them for longer than a millisecond or absorb one written word. At the moment, he didn’t know where he stood with you. Saturday had been brutal, Sunday was stupendously worse, on Monday he’d called in sick because the thought of stepping one foot outside his apartment made him ghostly ill, and Tuesday, today, he was quite mopey, lethargic, and hardly contained enough energy to even feed himself.

But he still took another bite from his toast.

It was better than completely and utterly rotting.

[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: Sorry.

[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: Wasn’t feeling the greatest.

[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: I promise I’m alive.

He set the phone down beside his plate, continuing to tear at small sections  of the toast to make it easier to eat. Wonwoo didn’t bother replying to anyone else. If they were truly that concerned as to why he hadn’t answered—which he knew they weren’t—then Vernon could disseminate whatever information he pleased.

Poking his glasses up with a pinky finger, Wonwoo saw his phone screen illuminate with a text from Vernon.

[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: jesus christ wonwoo

[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: don’t scare me like that I legit thought something happened to u

[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: man check ur fucking texts lol

Wonwoo pushed the dish aside and picked up his phone.

[ Wonwoo | 1:45 pm ]: My bad.

[ Vernon | 1:45 pm ]: it’s ok

[ Vernon | 1:45 pm]: soz u got sick

[ Vernon | 1:46 pm ]: u feel any better?

No—Wonwoo had almost audibly laughed. He felt pulverised, like a piece of trembling jelly hardly able to walk. If he was lucky, he might be able to keep the toast down without his grief getting in the way and tormenting the nutrients back out of him. But it wasn’t like his friend could do anything about it or make his nightmares end.

[ Wonwoo | 1:47 pm ]: Yeah, I’m okay now.

You were right—Wonwoo really was a liar.

[ Vernon | 1:47 pm ]: good!

[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: yeah got pretty sick myself tbh

[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: next day was ass

[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: well uh if theres anything u need lemme kno im gonna b out today I could prob stop by whenever

After thumbing up the message, Wonwoo grabbed his plate, walked over to the sink, and tossed it in, hearing it crash into the stainless-steel emptiness. He didn’t know what else he would do today. Probably nothing at all except lay in his bed and sleep.

[ Her | 7:00 pm ]: hey pls check ur messages <3

…

[ Her | 8:09 pm ]: hey can u fucking check ur msgs

…

[ Her | 10:15 pm ]: wonwoo this is embarrassing for me PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CHECK UR MESSAGES!!

Hearing his phone ding for the third time that night, Wonwoo at last rolled over to drag the device aglow from the bedside table. As he lazily fixed the glasses over his face to squint across the fine print, his stomach dropped faster than the incline on a roller coaster. You were getting blatantly impatient with his lack of response.

The thing was, he always answered you. Even if he was in the middle of working, or blazed from his head to his toes, or half-asleep and hardly conscious—Wonwoo would always make time to text you back because there was nothing more important in his life.

It wasn’t that he was void of all desire to talk to you—it was that his body physically couldn’t allow it. His fingers suddenly felt so stiff, like they were wooden, and his mind flashed blank with not a single word to spare. He was still devastated with you, and that was putting it fucking mildly. Breathing out all the conjured despair and pain through his nose, Wonwoo left the phone on his nightstand, rolling back over to his side in another attempt to sleep.

—JUNE 20TH.

[ Her | 8:02 am ]: wonwoo why aren’t you answering me?

[ Her | 8:02 am ]: I was going to get rly mad at u and send a long nagging text or a voicemail but I feel like somethings wrong

[ Her | 8:10 am ]: we’re supposed to write today :(

[ Her | 8:35 am ]: I’m starting to get worried ugh

—JUNE 21ST.

[ Her | 11:20 am ]: wonwoo can you please send me something so I know you’re okay? even just a thumbs up?

[ Her | 11:25 am ]: please

—JUNE 23RD.

[ Her | 9:30 pm ]: okay it’s basically been a week since the party and idk what to do. I’m so fucking pissed off at you bc why can’t you just answer me? Ik I’m not blocked which leads me to think you’re not pissed at me? otherwise u would block me

[ Her | 9:31 pm ]: you’re reading my texts ik u are

[ Her | 9:34 pm ]: just why are you doing this I don’t understand I feel like crying bc I don’t know what I did or why you’re ignoring me?? if I did something can you please tell me I just hate this fucking guessing game and I hate you for putting me thru it

[ Her | 9:35 pm ]: fuck you honestly

[ Her | 10:36 pm ]: but I still miss you so much

[ New voice mail from Her | 10:58 pm ]

—JUNE 26TH.

Wonwoo felt the phone continuously buzz in his pocket for the third time that afternoon—he was getting another call while at the pharmacy and at that point even his boss was beginning to take note. He hardly ever worked morning to afternoon shifts, but another staff member was sick and so Wonwoo was unfortunately hailed upon to take their place, though, he had realized it might be a good idea for him to experience the fresh, softer air against his face, which chiefly prompted him to accept. Even if he had thrown up his breakfast in the washroom just before his shift started, at least he’d tried to eat something—thawed out blueberry waffles with butter were still too much for his stomach. He should probably stick to toast.

As he stood behind the counter, marking down another bundle of vitamin bottles and their expiry dates from the clipboard, his boss was handing out prescriptions. Wonwoo was in the midst of a long, impossible-to-hide yawn when his phone started vibrating again, that stupid Sencha ringtone practically grating his ears.

“Wonwoo,” his boss said, “I think you better answer that.”

“No, it’s nothing. I’ll shut my phone off.”

Her reading glasses were poised at the tip of her nose as she typed some information into the computer, each click from the chunky keyboard notably slower than the last.

“Well,” she huffed, clearing her throat, “whoever it is, that was their fourth time calling you… I do believe that warrants some attention. Now, if you’re sure it’s nothing at all, then I’d rather you keep that phone in your locker, alright?”

He paused, staring down at the clipboard in his hands.

“… Can I take just five minutes?”

Glancing over the shoulder of her pristine white lab coat, his boss nodded, and Wonwoo left the clipboard sitting alongside the vitamin bottles. He slipped into the employee break room and out the heavy backdoor, stepping behind the building for the utmost privacy.

Wriggling out the phone from his pants pocket, Wonwoo stared at the four separate notifications, all spread out within the past hour. Vernon had been attempting to reach Wonwoo for whatever reason, though he didn’t know what could possibly be so goddamn pressing that a text message wouldn’t suffice. He didn’t want to find out, either. But Wonwoo had already excused himself, and he didn’t want to waste the precious five minutes he’d been anointed.

He dialed his friend back. The call was picked up instantly.

“Vernon, what the f—”

“Glasses! It’s about fuckin’ time you answered your stupid phone! Where the hell are you, anyway? Mars?!” His voice boomed through the staticky line like a boxer’s jab and Wonwoo immediately moved the device from his ear, taking a second to orient himself.

“I’m at work, dumbass. Use your fucking head.”

“Work?! Oh, give me a break. Work! That’s your excuse?!”

Letting his temple prop against the uncomfortable brick wall, Wonwoo rubbed at his nose, his eyes squeezing out the sunlight.

“Just tell me why you’re blowing up my phone…”

“How about ‘cause I almost got mugged! That’s why!”

“Wha—mugged? Vernon, what? By who?”

“Your girlfriend, that’s fuckin’ who!”

Wonwoo pushed off the wall using his shoulder, taking a few steps across the cigarette butt-littered walkway. He absolutely hated it beyond comprehension whenever Vernon referred to you as his girlfriend—even more so now—though he was plagued by the thickest confusion and he needed Vernon to calm down in order to explain everything succinctly.

Taking a thorough breath, he stopped pacing.

“Okay, chill out, for just a second. And then talk to me. Because I don’t have a clue what you’re yelling about. I told my boss I’d be five minutes and I’m wasting out the clock.”

“Fuck—okay. So, I was gettin’ gas, alright? Mindin’ my own business when I see Her come outside the store. I thought, oh, hey, I know we’re probably not on the greatest terms yet but I’ll say hi.” He heard the boy cut himself off, and then laugh a bit, as though he were still reeling from the incident. “Dude, the second she sees me, I think I’m gonna die. She practically corners me at my Camry, like, askin’ me all this stuff: what happened to Wonwoo? Where’s Wonwoo? Do you know what’s goin’ on? Why isn’t he talkin’ to me?”

At that point, Wonwoo had squatted down in the middle of the walkway, rubbing a hand dreadfully against his cheek. He didn’t have a cigarette on him, but if he did, he’d be smoking it down to the pathetic nub. Vernon coughed and then started up his story again.

“I try to tell the chick—hey, I’ve got no fuckin’ clue! He told me he wasn’t feelin’ well, we haven’t spoken much—like, fuck if I know all the details to your goddamn life! She doesn’t believe I’m givin’ the full truth. I tell her again: look, he’s real private, he doesn’t talk about much. If he is goin’ through somethin’, just give him space and time—blah, blah. She tells me I’m a bad friend! Like—what the fuck, first of all! A bad friend?! She’s—okay, anyway—"

Wonwoo began to pull at some green sprigs of grass pushing up from between cracks in the cement, just to give his nervous, trembly fingers something to do. His heartbeat was climbing higher in his throat.

“She thinks you hate her, o-or I don’t know what she fuckin’ thinks, actually. What I do know is that she hates me ten times more than she did before, n’ that you need to get off your fuckin’ ass and talk to her! Do y’know scary it is to have Her yellin’ at you?! I thought she was gonna light my hair on fire with the gas pump or some shit! Fuck. My heart’s like, still racin’. And not to terrify you but she might stop by your place later today—”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he interrupted Vernon while shooting back to his feet, beginning to anxiously pace all over again, “you think she’ll stop by my apartment? No, that can’t—” Wonwoo stumbled on a rock, then reared his foot to punt it hard across the cement, “I-I don’t want to talk to her. I fucking can’t. It’s too much.”

“I don’t know what to do about that…” Vernon sighed, followed by the distinctive spark of a lighter crackling in the background. “Didn’t even know you were ignorin’ her… what happened, anyway? I mean, this shit seems real serious.”

The silence was so thinned but still unbearably long, and as Wonwoo listened to his friend ignite a blunt in order to mellow out, he felt that unmistakable pain twist at the pliable centre of his chest, like he was being carved into with a whittling tool.

Put simply, Wonwoo wasn’t ready to see you, let alone have a civil conversation that could be separate from his bitter, hurt emotion. There was too much he needed to decide alone, and as the hot, stinging summer air around him became concerningly harder to breathe, Wonwoo had no other choice but to hang up on his friend and burst back into the employee washroom. Eventually, his boss had stopped by to knock on the door, to which Wonwoo answered with the most reluctant, pained, hoarse voice he could muster.

“S-Sorry—be out soon…”

“… I’ll give you a few more minutes,” she answered after a momentary pause, most likely realizing something was very wrong.

 But he couldn’t hide it any better than that.

Wonwoo stepped inside the pottery shop, the bells overhead tinkling, and the attention of his landlord now piqued as she glanced up from the earth-coloured vase being washed by her paintbrush.

“Back from work?” She asked.

“Yeah…” he sighed, making his way toward the staircase, already reaching for the handrail, “can hardly stand. I’m exhausted.”

Sweeping some dried pieces of clay off her messy, weathered apron, she lent Wonwoo a sympathetic smile. “Well, rest up.”

He nodded at her.

Coming up to his apartment, Wonwoo was inexplicably relieved he hadn’t run into you at any point. He clicked his lock shut with another sigh, a more distant one that arose from somewhere so dusty and cold inside his chest. Maybe Vernon was right, Wonwoo thought while kicking off his shoes. Maybe it would be best to get such an excruciating, uncomfortable conversation out of the way rather than ruminate over how awful it was bound to be.

He scrubbed his hands clean at the sink, then trudged into his bedroom to change from his pharmacy appropriate clothes.

But as he came to sit at the edge of his bed, thinking back to that night—all the touches and tender glances and how foolishly he presumed it would be okay to open those clandestine, personal pages he always struggled to share—Wonwoo knew it was still too premature. If he were to speak with you now, nothing productive or relatively good would come from it. He leaned forward into his hands and raked them distraughtly through his hair, tugging against the black fronds until he worried about legitimately pulling them out.

You were obviously concerned and worried—he knew that, and part of him ached because it was due to his own ignorance.

It just couldn’t happen yet.

Wonwoo was mad at you. He felt betrayed, disrespected, used. There was sadness, heavier than his body weight. So much emotion was blistering and alive inside of him with nowhere to go.

Collapsing backward, arms tossed beside his head, Wonwoo closed his eyes and hoped he might fall asleep deep enough in order to never wake up. That way, he would never have to face reality—he would never have to stand in front of you and cough up some half-baked explanation that only served to protect himself.

Through the haze and mist of his bizarre dreams that whipped by akin to reels from old age movies, Wonwoo saw someone he didn’t think would ever reappear in his subconscious again—Jeanie.

He had no idea where he was, or what those disembodied figures were that shifted in the blurred distance. She was the only detail he could pinpoint. Wonwoo walked toward her, pushing through something invisible but notably thick, like molasses. He tried inconceivably hard to absorb the intricacies of her face, but when he stared for too long, her features would start moving, almost melting off her as though she was a wax figure in a sweltering auditorium.

Yet, he could hear something.

There were voices becoming louder in his ears, and the more intently he listened for them, the clearer Jeanie’s face became.

The girl’s hair was chin length, dark. Dark like timbre. Or very fine-grated flint. It looked soft to one’s touch, if, in fact, one could possibly touch her without her shattering. I remember thinking that. The girl will shatter if I bump her, even if it’s an accidental thing—a gentle scraping sort of contact that wouldn’t even disrupt a feather.

I remember her eyes, too. My brother owned a box of marbles when he was twelve years old. When I looked into the girl’s eyes, it was like I was eight again, staring over the discarded sewing tin that held my brother’s smooth, large, galactic marbles he told me to never play with. I hated him for it. I think a part of me still does. But I don’t feel that resentment when I look into her eyes. Rather I feel the mystery and curiosity I believed was permanently erased alongside my youth.

Then there were her lips, which were small but plump. They seemed almost stained. I thought an artist took a stroke of watery, blood red paint to her mouth. It’s even hard to hear her when she speaks. I have to lean in so closely that my chest shrinks in on itself with coyness. I love it too much but I can’t let the beautiful, quiet girl know.

Wonwoo knew every word—he could recite them endlessly, without a sweat or a hiccup. It was his own writing after all, from the book he’d attempted to write for her during their relationship. Finally, he could see Jeanie standing in front of him, at the edge of clarity. Close enough to embrace and kiss and beg so pathetically for forgiveness.

But Wonwoo was never given the chance.

The voices scattered in a mere instant, whisking away into the baby blue nothingness that engulfed him like a handful of sand grains on a windy beach. Instead, he heard knocking. It rattled his brain.

Knock, knock, knock, knock!

The atmosphere started to crumble. He was caught in that peculiar stretch of being half-asleep and half-awake, when it’s impossible to decipher reality from the reverie that doesn’t quite want to let go just yet. Everything shuddered and swayed like a house on stilts.

“Wonwoo! Open the fucking door! For fuck’s sake!”

And then, he was shooting up in bed, fast enough to prompt the dizziness that whorled the entire room into a confusing mélange of shapes and evening clementine colours. His heart was barraging against his chest, and Wonwoo had to settle a hand overtop the pulse to confirm with himself that the organ was still inside his body. As he wiped off the sweat that glistened by his temples, trying to mentally grasp the fading fragments from his dream, Wonwoo heard the knocking sound again. Louder. As though his door would cave in.

He knew it was you. You weren’t going to leave, either, not unless someone had to drag you out the building by the ankles, or until you spoke to Wonwoo about his impromptu ghosting.

The thing was, Wonwoo was fucking pissed.

He was pissed that such a bittersweet dream had been ripped away from him like everything else in his life—most often love and trust—and he was pissed that he never got any closure.

Wonwoo was just boiling over, tired of everything.

Knockknockknock!

Stumbling into the living room, Wonwoo approached the door that was currently receiving the abuse of a lifetime. His hand grazed the knob, though it was nothing akin to the first time he’d let you inside his apartment, so nervous, flustered, doubting himself. When he opened the door, Wonwoo opened it with an unwavering abruptness that presented you at the threshold, your closed fist left still in the air like you were a marionette frozen by your orchestrator.

With your mouth agape and soundless, Wonwoo wondered if you would even speak. The shock was slowly spreading throughout your face, adorned as usual with that picture perfect makeup.

But he’d assumed too quickly.

“Jesus fucking Christ! So, you are alive!”

He stepped aside while you stormed into the apartment, and then he let the door swing shut, capturing the two of you in privacy.

You spun around to glare Wonwoo down.

“What the actual fuck is your problem?! Did you forget how to read?! Write?! Answer your fucking phone?! I mean, would it kill you, Wonwoo, to text me back? Even just one word? Or, is that too fucking difficult?! It’s not like I’m asking for a goddamn scripture!”

Since March, Wonwoo had known you. It was nearly July.

Never had he seen you like this before. Sure, there were times you had gotten angry and that short fuse inside would burst. It was always jarring, but you tended to regain composure within the next minute or so, shaking off the confining chrysalis of your rage.

This didn’t seem so easy to shake off.

You were furious. Wonwoo watched you begin to pace the living room, your hands gesturing about wildly. There was practically a radiation that glowed from around you, red like singed charcoals.

“I can’t believe the rollercoaster you have put me through this past week, you asshole! I mean, seriously! I've never been this baffled! At first, I just assumed you were sick! Because—who wasn’t sick after that night? But we had to write the next day, and you always get back to me, so when you didn’t, my stomach started twisting up! I thought, something has to be wrong—Wonwoo doesn’t do this! He never stands me up! But I didn’t want to pry, because you fucking hate when I pry, so I left it alone! I left it and then I still get nothing!”

A Rubik’s cube was sitting on the coffee table. For some reason, you snatched it up and started jamming at the panels while continuing to pace the living room. Your hands were fizzling firecrackers, surging with ample energy, needing a task to direct all that accumulated anger so the fingers wouldn’t fly off your joints.

“But I see Vernon getting gas! And, wow, everything is just so peachy for him! Life is so sweet and sugary for the local drug dealer who just milked hundreds of dollars out of some stupid rich kids and their latent drug addictions! And you know what I had to do? I had to back him up like a feral fucking cat just to wrangle some information about you! Because I thought maybe you were dead, or kidnapped, or you just suddenly hate me! I looked like such a psychopath!” 

You slammed the unsolved Rubik’s cube back onto the coffee table hard enough to dislodge a few pieces. They spotted his carpet like blood spatters. A tattered, deep breath was sucked up your nose.

“So, here I fucking am, screaming my head off because I am so pissed at you, Wonwoo! I want an answer even if it kills me!”

The air was dead silent, and Wonwoo wanted to let the room breathe for just a minute at most. Every single word you had spewed was compressed into the spaces of his apartment and if he didn’t give the atmosphere enough time to settle then his walls would undoubtedly burst. You refused to stare anywhere else but him. There was so much need and pain and agony behind those glassy eyes.

Wonwoo glanced down at his socked feet, swallowed hard, and then back at you. He had to speak. Nothing else would suffice.

“… Honestly… there’s no answer I can give you that won’t hurt, or make you any less upset… I don’t want to drag this out, either.” A subtle breath entered his mouth. “Her, we shouldn’t do this anymore—the book. I don’t want to help. You can finish it yourself.”

It was sharp, so meticulously sharp—a clean, smooth cut.

Though he was calm water on the outside, he felt a trembling behind his ribs. His heart was groveling with him to not be so cruel.

You laughed, titled your head. “What?”

“I can’t continue to help you write.”

Again, the room was silent.

“… You… you’re… you what?”

Something wasn’t connecting inside your brain. For some reason, you could not comprehend what Wonwoo was insisting. His patience was translucent and the longer he stood across from you in the living room, thinking about his interrupted dream and the vulnerability you stepped all over and the time he wasted—he could only get angrier. His fingernail scraped over his thumb like a tooth.

You wiped something off your face and started to laugh again.

“God—okay. There’s—I’m sorry but there’s absolutely no way you just said that to me… I come here, sick to my fucking stomach, worried about you. Yes, I’m mad but—I-I still care. And you—you’re going to—fuck.” A hand then clasped over your mouth as you pointed your gaze to the shag carpet, and for a moment, Wonwoo couldn’t decide if you were masking a laugh or a sob. “You’re going to tell me that we should just… stop, in your words. Or, you’ll stop, and I can keep trudging on. Am I hearing that right? Is that what you said?”

Wonwoo nodded.

He hadn’t realized it, but he’d just detonated a bomb.

At first, there was not a single crease or wrinkle that ruptured your disturbingly placid face. But, surely enough, he was beginning to observe the slow, inevitable fracturing that started with a twitch in your upper lip, and then a wicked furrow pulling down your brow, and that irritable blinking of your eyes as though someone had just blown a cloud of dust into them. Wonwoo knew it was coming.

“Fuck you.”

It was so spiteful, almost demonic.

“You should go,” Wonwoo said, sighing.

Instead, your head rung back and forth.

“No, actually—” you stepped toward him, fingers pinching at the thick, almost palpable air while your eyes fumed with every malevolent thought that burned inside you, “—fuck you, Wonwoo.”

He stared back at you, somehow unfaltering.

“Listen, if you don’t—”

“If I don’t what?!” You screamed, your palms slamming against his chest and prompting him to stumble backward. “If I don’t leave, then fucking what?!” Even though it was just you shouting, it sounded like there were hundreds of anguished women behind each word.

Wonwoo felt the pin drop into his gut.

“Y’know what I think, Wonwoo?! I think this is just like that time at SRX, when you told me the same fucking thing! You just picked up all your shit and left! No explanation, no prelude, no nothing! Is that what gets you off? Huh? Treating everyone like they’re pieces of scrap metal with no fucking emotion?! You can just do whatever you want! Doesn’t matter! Who gives a fuck about whose feelings I’m totally disregarding, whose time I’m wasting. I’m Wonwoo! I get to pull the plug on everybody because who cares!”

Your voice had employed a fake, mocking tone.

And while Wonwoo knew the better choice was to maintain his quiet, mature composure, it was much easier to disregard the guise altogether—chuck it straight out the window like a browned banana peel because as much as he’d like to believe he was refined, evolved, and in control, Wonwoo hadn’t ever been anything of the sort.

He shook his head at you.

“I disregard people’s feelings? People’s time? Me?”

“Yes, you!”

“That is such bullshit.”

“Oh, come the fuck on, Wonwoo! Don’t be so damn deluded!”

“Do you even hear yourself? A single word that you’re fucking saying? I disregard people’s feelings? Well, what about you, then? You—and, sorry if this puts a nick in the perfect, angelic image you have of yourself—but you just use people. And I don’t want to be used anymore. There’s my fucking answer that you want so badly.”

You gagged at him, slack-mouthed down to the floor.

“I use people? Wonwoo, are you fucking insane?!”

“No more than you.”

“How?! Tell me how I’ve used you!”

He laughed at the demand, rubbing a hand across his scalp. “Oh, come on—don’t make me spell it out for you, Her.”

“No, please do! Please spell out in that scholar-kissed, prestigious vocabulary of yours how I’ve used you!”

Wonwoo paced over to the fireplace mantel, this light-headed, tingly sensation beginning to merge with his blood and flow to every crack and crevice of his body. He couldn’t believe this was happening, but now that you two were shredding into each other, Wonwoo saw no point in sugar coating a damn thing. If you wanted the truth, then he would give you exactly that—it mattered no less to him.

“The book. How is that not obvious? I mean, for the last few months, that’s all I’ve done. Is help you. You didn’t even care about who I was before. You just wanted someone who could make your life easier and bend to all your whims at the drop of a hat. I’m the one who has to put up with your obsessions and gripes and your crazy fucking mood swings—I mean, do you even know how draining that shit is? You don’t, because you care about you. You care about writing this masterpiece for Mingyu—who, I should mention—doesn’t give a fuck about you. But you know that, right? You’re a smart girl, aren’t you?

You know it when he treats you like a dumb object, belittles you in front of your friends, puts down and shows no support in your interests—like, really, Her? That’s who you’re in love with? That’s the man you want to spend the rest of your life with? Or do you just like him for his status? Is it because he pays for your coke and your clothes and your entire fucking life? And what about Seokmin? Your little puppy dog. Always so eager to do whatever you ask of him. He just does all the shit that’s not worth your breath. So, instead of wasting your time, you waste his instead.

Bells and Clara? Why the fuck do you even keep them around? You treat them like they're insufferable. But you know they make you look better—so much smarter, more organized, goal-driven—they’re just the two annoying drunk girls that tag along because as much as you despise them you just can’t deny how good they make you look. But that’s what you do! You use everyone around you and no one ever says a fucking thing because you’re such a tyrant!”

Wonwoo was fully cognizant of how sadistic it all was—that’s what he intended. If every word was not going to lacerate or bite or sink so painfully deep into your tissue that it felt like a bony dagger, then there was no point in saying anything at all. You were across from him, vibrating like an excited atom, your fists clenched while every possible hue of rage spilt down the length of your hollow face.

Simple enough—you’d asked him to spell it out, and that’s what he’d done. If could make it any clearer, he would. You then gulped, and there sounded a quiver to your voice that Wonwoo had never heard before. He stood tensely, awaiting your response.

“H-Hm, so… that’s what you think of me?” The end of your question sharply pitched off. “That’s your conclusion?”

“It is,” Wonwoo answered, pressing up his glasses.

Rolling your shoulders and clearing your throat, you nodded, meanwhile you stared down at your hands which began to slowly unfurl. Wonwoo realized that your fingers were trembling like dry, autumn leaves in a soaring wind. He’d never seen that before, ever.

“So, actually, what I think—” you coughed, placing an elbow overtop your mouth to catch the spit, “—I think that…”

For a moment, Wonwoo thought it was over. Your voice was so quiet, hushed, with hardly an ounce of tenacity or grit. But he should have known better than to suspect you of being so spineless.

“What I think, Wonwoo, is that you love to write, and read, because the only person you can communicate with is yourself. You… you are so emotionally stunted that it should be fucking studied. That was the most I’ve ever heard you speak, and you used all of it to basically call me fake, manipulative, and shallow.”

“Because you asked.”

“God. You are so empty, Wonwoo. You’re just a shell. You would rather exist inside your literary delusions than reality because there is nothing for you here. No real relationships, no real aspirations, nothing. And you know why that happened? You can’t fucking talk about anything. Instead, you just hold it all inside—you hold it and hold it until it starts seeping out and poisoning everyone around you. It’s your own fucking fault, Wonwoo. You're gonna drive everyone away. And then have the audacity to somehow point the finger, like they’re the one with the fucking problem. But it’s you.”  

He could almost hear the clatter of the metal against the hardwood as you dragged out the metaphorical dagger. There was even a physical pain throbbing at his lower back, though, Wonwoo quickly began to accept the pain was aflame everywhere on his body.

Your lips were pressed together in a strict, firm line. If you opted to speak just one word more, then maybe the dam would break, and his apartment would transform into a sodden, soaked mess.

He watched your head begin to shake, and then you were swallowing down a gigantic, stinging lump. Of course, even at your most barren, emotionally exhausted self, you would get the last word.

“So you can go fuck yourself.”

And Wonwoo was willing to let you have it.

He closed his door at the sound of your wrenched sob in the corridor. There wasn’t much else for him to do other than click the lock shut, pick up the broken pieces from his Rubik’s cube, and walk back into his bedroom. Wonwoo whipped the curtains shut, crawled underneath the cold, thin covers that he stretched over his head.

In the isolating darkness, he slept.

Alone again.

—JULY 21ST.

It was some time in the evening.

A soft, nearly unsettling quietness engulfed the train station.

There was nothing even relatively stimulating that Wonwoo could do apart from aimless surfing through his phone, sparing the occasional glance toward the directory desk with its few uniformed clerks. A navy-blue suitcase was at his side, stuffed full of folded clothes and charging cables. As organized earlier in the year, Wonwoo had spent the week at his uncle’s house—even his older brother managed to stop by for a few days to celebrate Wonwoo’s birthday.

For the most part, Wonwoo enjoyed his time there. The house was more like a cottage, situated on a fresh, small lake shaded over by the summer canopies of sycamore and evergreen trees. While he didn’t dabble in any swimming, Wonwoo had liked stretching out on the webbed hammock down by the firepit, rocking himself back and forth using a long leg that he kept strewn over the edge.

He missed that peaceful feeling engendered by the lakeside wind and the rustling leaves—how rejuvenating it all was to escape the monotonous hell that was his life back in the grey, stiff city.

Wonwoo clicked on his phone to check the time.

5:50 pm.

He would need to board his train soon.

Unfortunately, whether he liked it or not, Wonwoo had to go back and he had to pick up where he’d so painfully left off. No more pieces of refrigerated chocolate cake straight from the box or sitting outside on the maplewood patio to jingle a fake mouse at the paws of his uncle’s cat. No more packed joints beside the ebbing shoreline at midnight, or waking up to the most ethereal, golden light warming through the curtains as though the skies were made with honey.

Wonwoo sighed, plugging in the earbuds left dangling at his shirt collar. He scrolled through his music looking for a song to play.

Above all, it had nearly been a month since he last spoke to you.

Spoke wasn’t even the right word. That day, Wonwoo had set out to ruin you, because he could not bring himself to steep in all that misery and vitriol alone, bearing its weight like he was made from pressurized diamond when in truth—he was flaky and feeble.

The weeks that passed afterword were all blurred together. He talked to no one. Seldom saw anybody. Wonwoo had hardly existed.

A voicemail was still sitting in his inbox. You had sent it to him during a late night in June after the crazed party at Seungcheol’s family mansion, though Wonwoo never bothered listening to it because it was one of his biggest weaknesses—your voice—the most beautiful sound in the world as you had once phrased to him back at the café Wonwoo used to frequent. Then, he’d laughed it off, believing you were beyond full of yourself. Gradually, however, it became truth.

To hear you talk was to feel so in love that it physically ached.

“Train to Lees Station will be arriving within the next five minutes. Please make your way to platform C for boarding.”

The announcement finished with a ding.

Wonwoo got to his feet and grabbed the suitcase handle, beginning to pull it behind him while following the small, silent crowd toward the elevator. It was finally time to go home. Although home didn't seem like much to him anymore, if not just an aimless place in a bleak city that had lost all its warmth.

10:48 pm.

Wonwoo couldn’t sleep, or even take a nap.

When he would rest his head against the window, his eyes could only stay shut for no longer than a measly, frustrating minute. He’d completely exhausted his playlists. By midnight, the train would stop at his station, anyway. There was nothing left for him to listen to… except that voicemail. It was an awful fucking idea, but Wonwoo hadn’t been able to shake the temptation since it first crept into his memory all those hours ago.

Wonwoo didn’t want to think about you—not until he’d stepped off that goddamn train and had fully left all remnants of his short summer vacation behind. When he was back amongst the ignorant city people, and those towering glass infrastructures, and the constant honking, beeping, and roaring of motorized vehicles, would he even probe the thought. But—then again—so much time had passed. So much time to regret, anguish, and loathe his actions.

“… So, um—I-I just want to say first and foremost how much you suck for doing this to me, actually. You… god—fuck, if I have to blow my nose one more time… you suck, Wonwoo! You just—you fucking suck so much! You and your stupid privacy! I-I’m not trying to invade your life o-or get—or pry into something I shouldn’t be—I just want an answer, I want clarity, I want you to—I want—I need you to be a fucking person and just talk to me so I don’t hate myself! Because right now I feel like this is all my fucking fault!

… And it sucks because I don’t even know who I can talk to about this. I want to talk to you. But I can’t a-and… oh my god… we were supposed to write a couple days ago. At the park. I knew you weren’t going to show up but I went there anyway. I tried so hard to put down a sentence. But I hated all of it. I looked back at everything I’d written so far and I wanted to erase every single fucking word and blame you for it… f-fuck… I’m running out of stupid fucking tissues… oh… where’s the extra box?... I’m such a wreck.

… And, um, oh my gosh. Yesterday, at the mall, I went shopping, and I saw this really cute shirt. It was so pretty. Um… dammit! Sorry, I just hit my elbow… that hurt, Jesus Christ… uh—right, so, I saw this shirt and it was so cute with little buttons on it. It was white and blue. A little bit of frills. I know you don’t like frills but I promise it was just the right amount. A-And I have the perfect skirt to go with it. So, um, I put it on, and it fit really nice. I took a picture in the fitting room and I wanted to send it to you but you’re not talking to me right now. But, uh, I did buy it.

I was wearing it today. But then, like, the worst th-thing ever happened… um, it ripped. I ripped it. I don’t even know how, I was just going through my closet and it caught on a broken hanger or something and then all I heard was a b-big rip… it’s totally ruined now. I don’t know but I burst into tears. I was crying so hard and you were the first person I wanted to call but you’re not talking to me, a-and—fuck, I don’t know what I’m saying anymore… I just—I’m mad at you, I’m so fucking mad but I still care and—please, I miss you. I really, really miss you, Wonwoo. It hurts inside.

I’m sorry this is so long… I think m’gonna stop talking because my sinuses are closing up and my throat is burning. Um, I’ll go n-now. Just—fuck you. Please text me or call be back. Please.”

The message blipped off.

For a moment, he was frozen solid, staring back at his reflection through the dark window at his shoulder. I’m so fucking mad but I still care. Then, in an instant, Wonwoo had wished he never listened to the voicemail. He tore out his earbuds and bundled them up, shoving them into his pocket alongside his phone.

He was on the precipice of a horrifying change, but he didn’t know exactly what—just that he was looking at something so smooth and grey and warmed up from the blistered sun.

He was looking at the rock.

—JULY 22ND.

By the time Wonwoo had returned to his apartment last night, he was dead tired—a zombie, practically—scuffing his feet against the wooden flooring with his suitcase rolling behind. Face-planting upon the bed that hadn’t felt the dip from his body weight in a week, he thought he would rest his drooping eyes and give himself a moment to settle. Except it wasn’t just a moment, it was hours and hours of sleep that felt like a single second. When he woke up, his arm was completely numbed from being tucked under his cheek.

It had actually scared him. Wonwoo immediately shot up, staring down at the lifeless limb which he couldn’t move an inch.

“Fuck…” he mumbled to himself hoarsely, squinting against the sunlight which blinded the bedroom. “How long was I out…”

Digging the latter hand into his pants pocket, he let the blood slowly tingle back into his other arm while checking the time on his phone. However, the device was dead. For all he knew, it was the year three-thousand and there would be flying cars and Blade Runner infomercials gleaming in the city smog. Once he was able to move his arm, Wonwoo slid off the bed and laid down his suitcase, beginning to zip open the compartment.

His charger was packed perfectly on top.

Letting his phone recharge on the bedside table, he returned to unpacking. His laptop, toothbrush, books, socks, pairs of underwear and oversized shirts—he stored everything back in its appropriate place, tossing the occasional article into his laundry hamper, until the suitcase was nearly emptied. The only item which remained inside was a small plastic bottle, translucent orange, baring a white prescription label with a few pills remaining side.

His venlafaxine.

Wonwoo had started taking the medication again, roughly a week after his fight with you. Upon completely losing his ability to sleep or eat or survive an entire day without crippling in on himself like the world was a sinkhole waiting for him to slip, Wonwoo came to the realization that—what the fuck—he didn’t have to plainly suffer, and that all the time he spent ignoring the drug because he couldn’t even value his life enough to swallow one tiny pill was a useless, cruel disregard for the body that tried so fucking hard to protect him.

Even when it didn’t feel like it.

By the time Wonwoo ate breakfast—a simple piece of toast with peanut butter—his phone was halfway charged.

1:01 pm.

He’d slept for thirteen hours straight.

“Get over it, Wonwoo. Don’t overreact... c’mon, c’mon, don’t give me that sad little face… it was funny!”

“Leave me alone.”

“No.”

“Leave me alone, please.”

“No.”

“Bohyuk! Stop!”

“Stop what?!”

“You’re poking me! Bastard…”

“Oh, you just said a curse word. Mom is gonna be so mad. Kids your age aren’t supposed to start swearing yet.”

“Tell her. I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“Well, what if she takes away your books? I bet you’ll get upset then, won’t you? Or those weird little playing cards you have. What if she’s so mad, she burns them! You’ll cry yourself to sleep like a little baby.”

“I said stop touching me!”

“Or what? What? Nothing to say?”

“No.”

“Figures.”

“… I told you I want to be alone.”

“I know you do. And I let you sit here sulking. But now I’m just trying to get you to talk instead of mope. When you’re in a bad mood, it puts mom in a bad mood, and then I have to suffer with both of you being all brooding and cranky. Talking is an important skill, you know? Especially when you’re all pissed off. ”

“Mom is always cranky.”

“And you double it.”

“Shut up.”

“I really don’t understand why I’m the piece of shit, here. We always play Lifeguard at the water park. Now you want to throw a tantrum because, what? It was funny!”

“You left me there, Bohyuk! Alone!”

“Okay, so what? Did you die, Wonwoo? Did you get banned from the park? Did you ruin your entire life?”

“No…”

“Exactly. It was uncomfortable, and you didn’t like the situation. I get that. But you put yourself in that position, alright? Stupid shit always happens when we play that game. You know the consequences. We’ve been over this before. Remember when you threw that life preserver on my head and almost gave me a concussion? I was pissed at you. But you’re a kid, and you weren’t really thinking, and I should’ve known. That’s why I didn’t curse you out. Let’s say we both learned a lesson from this and call it a day, huh? C'mon, the bucket is filling up. Let's catch it before we leave.”

—JULY 28th.

Wonwoo was sitting in a wicker-back chair downstairs in the pottery shop, his laptop placed on the corner of a table that had been covered with a white, plasticky sheet. The white was hardly visible through all the smears and stains attributed to month-old dried paint and clay. His landlord had asked him if he would oblige to waiting for the mugs her last class had just sculpted to finish drying in the kiln while she ran to the bank. An egg timer was placed on the desk in her office, and Wonwoo could hear it ticking away in the background.

The door to the shop had been propped open using a mandala decorated rock, and while Wonwoo browsed along an online book on his laptop, he partly listened to the miscellaneous bits and pieces of conversation pushed indoors by the midday summer wind.

Initially, he’d dreaded coming back to the city after the week-long repose at his uncle’s, but in truth, Wonwoo was adjusting better than anticipated. Maybe because he was attempting to look after himself more than usual—he was actually taking his medication and he’d weened himself from frequent, almost daily smoking to once every few days, though Wonwoo did realize his bud was getting low and the only person he knew to inquire for more was Vernon. He hadn’t seen his friend in person since the party, and their texting had admittedly dwindled ever since Wonwoo fought with you.

That was just over a month ago now.

Wonwoo had gone an entire month without texting you, talking to you, seeing you. He was doing better, feeling lighter.

But there remained one core part of him that was still very incomplete and damaged. Suddenly, Wonwoo was shivering in his seat. The warm sun was brightening up the shop and reflecting its light off the stained glass windchimes dangling from the ceiling, though he chose to blame the chill on the breeze trickling indoors.  

Deep down, however, Wonwoo knew he’d done something wrong. So, very, very wrong. He’d hurt you like a bullet through bone.

“Okay, this is it, right?”

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo glanced up from his laptop, where he’d been staring into the screen with a glazed over and distant expression. Instead, he saw a young woman, about his age, walk into the pottery shop hand-in-hand with a little girl who couldn’t have been older than twelve. For a moment, Wonwoo didn’t recognize the woman��s features—chin length, wavy hair, coarse and russet brown, tanned skin and a face polka dotted with freckles. Piece by piece, the memory rebuilt itself in his mind and he felt somewhat stupid.

“Oh—jeez, Wonwoo! What the heck—you’re like, the last person I would expect to run into here. Wow, it’s been a while!”

“Uh, yeah. Since the party, I guess.”

Sierra, the girl who’d fashioned together his drink.

“Yeah. That feels like forever ago... what’re you doing here?”

He pushed down on the laptop lid and sat up straighter in the wicker chair, accidentally looking into the eyes of the girl who was shyly clinging to Sierra’s side. She immediately glanced elsewhere.

“I live here, actually.”

“Oh! That’s cool,” Sierra smiled. “Your family owns it, or?”

“No. The lady who runs the pottery shop also has ownership of the units upstairs. She rents them out. I live up there.” He pointed his finger toward the ceiling as to emphasis his point.

“Okay, okay, that make a lot more sense. Still really cool.”

“What’re you doing here?” He asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh—yeah. So, this is my younger sister, Cora,” Sierra explained, grabbing onto the petite girl’s shoulder. “She was supposed to have her first class today, but she was feeling, um—well, you know how kids are. She’s just a bit shy. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, of course not,” Wonwoo concurred, noting the resemblance between the two. “I was deathly shy when I was little.”

“Right? We were just gonna stop by to meet to the teacher ahead of her next class. I thought it might make everything easier.”

Wonwoo frowned. “She left, actually.”

“Shoot, really?”

“Yeah, said she had to run to the bank. I’m sitting down here because I’m waiting for the pottery to finish drying in the kiln. I would give you an ETA, but I have no idea when she’s coming back.”

Glancing down at her sister, Sierra ruffled the girl’s hair.

“That sucks, huh?”

But she said nothing, just clung tightly to the back of Sierra’s yellow shirt, deciding to nod her head in response. Sierra shrugged.

“Is she usually here around this time?”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo confirmed, “you could try again tomorrow.”

“Okay, wicked. I would wait but I’ve got a list of errands for today and I’m not even halfway through. And I’m sure Cora wouldn’t want to sit around, anyway. We just got a pool put in at the house.”

“Sounds fun.”

“Do you swim?”

“No, not at all. The most I do is dip my feet in.”

“Aw, boo,” she said with dismay, shoulders sagging. “Well, it was nice running into you, Wonwoo. And—um, it might not be your thing, but I work at the Honeymoon almost every night—like, six to midnight. So, if you’re ever in Centertown, you should stop by.”

“Oh, good to know.”

“M’kay, later!”

Wonwoo waved. “Bye, guys.”

Once they left the pottery shop, Wonwoo set his elbows onto the plastic-sheeted table and leaned into his cold hands, sighing heavily as the egg timer continued ticking. Sierra was polite. She seemed warm like the sunshine and beautifully sincere. Wonwoo could read from her tender brown eyes that she desired more out of him—a friendship, a relationship, maybe something blissful, blurred, and in between. Though, it was nothing Wonwoo could give her.

He thought about the comment she made in regards to their pool—if he ever swam. Wonwoo didn’t swim, not since that horrible incident of Lifeguard all those years ago, back at the waterpark he used to attend alongside his older brother. Still, it got him thinking.

Reverting to his desktop, he looked for a folder.

writing.footage

It contained all the video clips he’d taken of you with the camcorder throughout your writing journey. He had every single one, from the grassy running ring at the high school to the footage he’d taken of the evening sky the day you two visited the beach.

His mouse hovered over a clip.

Fuck—he really shouldn’t do that. Every moment would sting like a red hot, peeling sunburn. The mouse moved away from the video clip and Wonwoo sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand against his face at the near torment. But… it had been so long. He missed you.

“Whatever…” he sighed to himself, clicking the video.

It took a moment to start up.

“Okay! So, this is Mooney’s Bay. It encompasses chapter three, and—Wonwoo, you have to film my intro! Why are you filming the sand?”

“Sorry, the lighting’s not good.”

“Oh.”

“Stand this way.”

“Those people will get in the shot.”

“Who cares? They’re far away.”

“I’ll stand in front of them… okay, are you zoomed in?”

“You told me not to zoom in.”

“No, I didn’t!”

“Remember when I zoomed in and you said I shouldn’t do that because it doesn’t capture the scenery properly?”

“Well, I said that because you were zooming in on me when you were supposed to be getting the ambiance shots! That’s why I said don’t zoom in. You can zoom in for the intro. Is the light better?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Does my hair look good? Actually, do you think it’s too windy? I’m worried about it being too windy, and then I can’t hear my introduction. I have to be able to hear my introduction. I’m really nervous. Wait—let me take off my flip flops. There’s so much sand in them and I hate it. Okay. Am I covering the people?”

“Yes.”

“Should I start now?”

“Go ahead.”

“Okay. So, this is Mooney’s Bay, and… and… wait—oh no! I forget my lines. What was I supposed to say, again?”

“I’m not sure, it’s your script. Something about chapter three.”

“Oh, I remember now! Okay, again from the top. Cut this out!”

He remembered that warm day as clear as the bay’s shiny water—specifically, the plethora of takes he had to film because you kept fudging up the script typed out on your phone. Wonwoo surfed through the rest of the clips pertaining to the beach, smiling to himself whenever you would fumble the words for the umpteenth time and groan in sheer frustration. Eventually, the backdrop turned from blue skies to an evening sunset. You two had spent hours there, and the filming had ended with tangy lemonade and watermelon.

He moved to a different assortment of clips.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, introduce the flavour. Like show and tell.”

“Oh, like a vlog?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. This is my flavour: it’s strawberry cheesecake. The red bits are the strawberries and those chunks are the cheesecake. I picked it because this is the flavour I got when I went on my first date with Mingyu. I love strawberries the most. Cheesecake is my favourite cake. Um… I don’t really know what else to say…”

“Where’d you get it from?”

“Oh—from The Big Chill!”

“What would you rate it?”

“Like, seven out of ten.”

“Not perfect even though it’s your favourite things?”

“Well—because the ice cream is too hard. I like soft ice cream. If I waited like, ten minutes, then ate some, it would be higher.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Okay! You’re not supposed to be inserting your personal comments! You’re just supposed to say prompts and stuff. Don’t make me revoke your camera privileges.”

“You know anybody else with my camera operating skills?”

“Seokmin.”

“He couldn’t film his way out of a paper bag.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t already said.”

The abrupt end to the video made Wonwoo sink down in his chair with a dumb, wide smile. You did in fact, wait the entire ten minutes for your ice cream to significantly melt in the cup, then forcing Wonwoo to watch with unfiltered judgement as you stirred it up like a smoothie. You said it helped with your sensitive teeth.

He could understand that.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to watch much more, he chose one final clip to open—the most recent one he’d taken. It was from the day you raced home in the rain after exploring the nature museum, right before Princess had swung by to pick you up. He had been fooling around with the camcorder while you two sat on the couch.

“… Um, so… do you care if I keep this shirt? It’s a good bedtime shirt, and I don’t really have any. I mean, only if you say it’s okay.”

“Uh, sure. I hardly wear it anymore, to be honest.”

“Oh. What’s it from?”

“A math competition thing. If you straighten that part out… that’s Euler’s number… this other one is your classic integral.”

“Hm, yeah. That’s such a great conversation starter. Have you guys ever heard about the integral symbol? Such a classic!”

“You jest but it got me quite a bit of recognition.”

“Like you want recognition.”

“Yeah, that’s why I stopped wearing it.”

“Ah, okay.  So if I wear it out, will I get random geeks coming up to me on the street asking about it?”

“Probably.”

“Mm, okay. I’ll keep it.”

“You want that, huh?”

“Yes, so when they come up to me, I can say I have a really smart, talented, loser friend who owns it. So I can brag about you.”

“That’s… nice, I suppose. Can you drop the loser part?”

“No. It’s to keep you humble.”

“Seriously? Life has already humbled me enough, I think.”

The clip ended, and Wonwoo was staring back at himself in the screen’s black reflection. He could recall that oddly hollow feeling which situated uncomfortably large in the pit of his stomach when he realized how much he missed you.

But how could he not yearn for you? When you were so captivating, and infinitely brilliant, and stubbornly hard-headed in a tantalizing way that made him feel completely alive and invigorated.

I fucked up—it was all he could think as he pushed his laptop away and buried his head into his arms—I fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up and I pushed away the most amazing girl I’ve ever known.

Suddenly, the small egg timer that had been sitting on the landlord’s desk a room away erupted. It started rattling and clanging and while Wonwoo should have shot up from his seat to turn it off and check the sculpted mugs cooking in the kiln, he stayed in his seat.

He felt glued to it.

All he could think about was how badly he needed to talk to you, hear your voice, see your face, smell your scent. Maybe he didn’t deserve it—Wonwoo knew he didn’t—but he loved you too much.

He couldn’t let you fade into a deep, dark memory.

—JULY 30th.

Wonwoo hadn’t been to his favourite café on Sunnyside Avenue for almost two months. He was therefore quite surprised at their new interior upon giving into a last-minute whim—visiting for a quick coffee. They had finally swapped their metal chairs for more cushiony seats, and the circle tabletops for square, wooden ones. The style of chalk writing on the overhead menu boards had changed, too.

He didn’t even recognize the baristas.

Usually, Wonwoo only stopped at the café to work on his writing and indulge in a raspberry lemon scone that was supposed to be a treat for having been productive, though he always ate it before a single word would ever grace the paper. Since he began helping you with your book back in March, he frequented the café less and less. It brought a smile to his face, recalling the incident of you slapping your hand against the window and jarring him half to death.

He used to be so afraid of you. Never would he imagine the comfort you’d end up bestowing him—and the fact he’d lose it all.

“I can help whoever’s next!”

Turning his attention from the corner where his old table used to sit—now occupied by two girls sharing a latte and giggling as they perused their phones—Wonwoo approached the barista he failed to recognize, waiting to take his order. Realizing he’d lost his metaphorical loyalty badge and that he could no longer just coolly toss out, ‘the usual’, Wonwoo had to remember what it was he even liked.

“Just an iced coffee,” he said, “and, uh… do you still have those scones with the raspberry and lemon filling?”

As the barista pressed something into the tablet screen, he shook his head. “Unfortunately they’re not made here anymore.”

“Oh, damn.”

“We do have a new strawberry scone, though, for summer. It’s got a confectionary sugar drizzle. It’s pretty popular.”

“Uh, don’t worry about it, I’ll just take the coffee.”

“No problem, man. Total is three ninety-nine.”

“Card, thanks.”

It might have been stupid, but Wonwoo couldn’t think about strawberries without thinking of you, because you always smelled like a sweet, ripe, and vibrantly red strawberry—it was the scent of your skin, which he so pathetically missed feeling warm and velvet against his. He bet one-hundred percent you would have ordered that scone.

After tapping his phone against the card reader, Wonwoo stepped aside and waited for his coffee. It was a Sunday. He had work tomorrow. There wasn’t much happening in his life.

“Iced coffee, right here.”

The barista slid the cardboard cup across the counter. Wonwoo grabbed it with a polite thank you, and then settled an inspecting glance around the café for a place to sit. He shouldn’t have come in the afternoon—it was always their busiest hours apart from early morning—and it seemed the redesign had promptly boosted their relevance, because Wonwoo couldn’t remember a time when the tables had ever been so filled. He stepped further into the seating area, though, someone familiar had just caught his eye.

Princess.

She was sat at a table close to some beautifully potted ferns and palm leaves, typing on a laptop while a plate with a half-finished sandwich and a plastic cup of matcha remained by her elbow. At the exact moment that Wonwoo saw her, Princess had also looked up, and as though by magic, their gazes caught without hesitation.

At first, Wonwoo panicked. The breath dropped out of his chest and he pondered waving to her, turning tail, and fleeing. There was not a single doubt in his mind that she was aware of the fight between you and him—she was your best friend—and Wonwoo knew from the manner in which her lips apprehensively curled into a numb smile that Princess already knew everything. Still, she waved at him.

Wonwoo gulped, waving back.

Maybe it was an indescribably stupid decision, but Wonwoo opted to swallow the fear and dread and anxiety in his throat. If she didn’t want him to sit with her, then he trusted that Princess would make such a boundary extremely clear—but Wonwoo had to try. He had to make some sort of initiative, some form of amends, and above all, he wanted to know about you, even if the answer hurt terribly.

“Uh, hey… how are you?”

Princess’ tattooed hands stilled on the keyboard. She flitted her round, deep brown eyes up at him, and he felt frustrated that he could extract little to nothing from their depths. Again, she smiled.

“I’m alright. Just working on some forms for work.”

Wonwoo nodded. “Do you, uh… do you care if I sit?”

She didn’t speak, but continued to stare at him with a lip worried between her teeth, and it was then Wonwoo could realize the conflict swimming through her gaze. The panic started to build again, and the regret surged into his stomach like a tsunami.

“Really, I don’t mean to make things awkward,” Wonwoo was urged to clarify, the cold cup feeling increasingly slippery in his clammy hand, “I can go. I don’t want to cause any problems."

“No, no—” Princess shook her head, meanwhile her tone remained strained and uncertain, “—it’s okay. Uh, yeah. Sure. Take a seat. I mean, it’s plenty full in here. I’m not that busy.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“Yeah, I’m sure. You can sit, Wonwoo.”

He exhaled softly, proceeding to pull out the chair. It felt quite nice sitting against a cushion rather than the hard metal he remembered.

Princess reached for her matcha, placing the straw between her lips and taking a long, heavy sip as though to prepare herself for the awkward nature of their incoming conversation. Wonwoo did the same. He didn’t even know where to start. Was it better to burn off his nerves through small talk or jump straight into the heat?

She moved the long braids off her shoulder, heaved in a breath.

“Well, let’s just get the bulk of this talk out of the way. I know what happened. I know you’re not friends with Her anymore. I know the way it ended was super ugly. I know that she spent, like, three days at my apartment, miserable, in tears over you, Wonwoo. So, I do feel a certain way toward you. I hope you can understand that.” She closed the lid of her laptop and sighed. “But, we’re adults. And I guess I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious about… some things.”

“No, I—I get that.”

Already, he wanted to throw up. Despite all his repressing, he could still hear that choked, vulnerable, completely broken sob you croaked out the day you left his apartment—how mercilessly it had haunted him for the entire week—made him believe he was a monster, a masochist, the lowest form of human being. Wonwoo felt there was no excusing it. He would always hate himself for it.

“What are you curious about?” Wonwoo asked quietly.

Princess glanced down for a second, staring at the smooth, black surface of her laptop. She then clicked her nails together.

“I-I just… how could it… how could it go so wrong?” The girl wondered aloud, leaning back into her chair, seeming despaired at the aftermath. “From the second I saw her get defensive of you at Spring Street, I knew how much she cared. I knew that you meant something to her and for whatever reason, she wasn’t going to let anyone screw it up. And she became so much lighter. Everything wasn’t an attack. Everything she did wasn’t so agonizing anymore.”

Wonwoo’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing underneath the table, the nervous energy accumulating rather than draining away. He wished he had the perfect answer, but he couldn’t yet find one.

Her head tilted, shoulders shrugging. “I don’t know… I thought you could be so good for Her. She doesn’t have anyone in her life that’s like you. But—I mean—fuck, we’re here, now, aren’t we?”

“Mmhm,” Wonwoo mumbled, staring straight into the girl’s shiny, unwavering eyes that held so much sentiments of angst and betrayal, like she herself was carrying your rage. “Princess… I… I want, so fucking bad, to give you a good answer for why everything blew up. I do. But—just—every time I try to look inward, every time I try to understand it at its core, I feel like it’s all shrouded. I know I fucked up. I know it. She made—makes—me happy, too. But I’m not there yet.”

“You’re not where?” She asked, pressing forward. “At a place where you can understand what you did? Why you did it?”

Fiddling with his cup atop its cork coaster, Wonwoo nodded.

He then chewed into his bottom lip, feeling the skin break.

“Can I ask… what did you think of me? When she told you what happened? If you have to be brutally uncouth, I don’t care.”

Princess abruptly laughed at the request, head tumbling forward into her gold-ringed hands. He wasn’t sure if she would oblige, as the laugh sounded nervous yet tinged with disbelief, which led Wonwoo to believe she had thought some very unpleasant things.

“Um… let’s see...” she chuckled hesitantly, smoothing antsy hands along her dark skin, “I was definitely gagged, let’s start there.”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know—I just—I didn’t believe that you would be capable of being such a fucking asshole. I mean—” she collapsed back into the chair, throwing up her arms, “—can you blame me? You’re quiet, well-mannered, intelligent. Everyone loved you at the party. I think the fact you could turn around and be so… s-so cruel, so hostile, like you were—I don’t know—trying to gut her, just seemed impossible. But Her doesn’t lie. She has no reason to make it up. I wasn’t able to think much at all because I went comfort mode. I just wanted to focus on getting her mind off you.”

“And… afterward?”

“Well, I wanted to destroy you, obviously.”

“… Fair.”

“So, can I ask you something?”

Instantly, his stomach dropped to his feet, and Wonwoo was certain his face had paled like a washed-out t-shirt. Princess’ gaze settled upon him with intense focus. Wonwoo scratched at his thumb.

“Okay.”

“… Do you love her?”

He didn’t answer. Even if he wanted to, the words erased from his mind in a mere snap of one’s fingers. Instead, Wonwoo stared at the girl while she politely waited for a sign, knowing his very loud, lacking response was an answer enough in itself if his eyes weren’t already panicked and practically writing the narrative for him. To admit his true heart to another person was the most horrifying predicament Wonwoo could articulate. He was far from capable.

Princess raised her brow. “I’ll take that as a—”

“You can’t tell Her. Please, please, please, whatever you do, whatever you think of me—just, please don’t tell Her,” Wonwoo blurted, the perspiration drenching the palms that sunk into his knees. “I-I don’t know what I’ll do if she finds out. Really, I—”

“Wonwoo.” Princess reached under the table, and he felt her cool, soft hand settle overtop his. “I’m not going to say anything to anyone, okay? Just breathe. You look like you’re going to have—"

“Don’t say it,” he exhaled shakily, “I-I know…”

He proceeded to close his eyes, draw in a long, deep, thorough breath, while his knee continued jittering and his chest felt so tight and twisted with fear. He closed his eyes and recalled the washroom belonging to his aunt’s house in rural Changwon, with the bright blue shower curtain and its pattern of yellow rubber ducks. 

Wonwoo counted all the rubber ducks on that childhood curtain, the number having been scorched into his mind like a scar, until he felt the world fall back into tune. The steadiness of Princess’ hand over top his was a gentle reminder that he was indeed alive and not a puddle of mistakes melted to the café floor. Pushing up the glasses that had slipped down his nose, he reopened his eyes to see the girl’s the sympathetic, earnest face. Wonwoo cleared his throat.

“Um, yeah—I’m okay… just—uh, th-thank you.”

She pulled her hand away, smiling, “no problem.”

The two proceeded to sit in silence as Wonwoo further collected his bearings. He glanced around the café, recognizing no one else amongst the crowd, and spotting more and more modifications that had appeared since his last visit—the light fixtures overhead were different, the decorative wall art had been replaced, and the baristas were all wearing hats with a new, improved logo. So much had developed in his absence. So much had to change.

He looked at his iced coffee, which he took a sip from, and realized that he didn’t prefer the taste quite like he used to.

Wonwoo sighed, pushing the drink away from him.

“Princess?”

“Yeah?”

“I know I don’t deserve this. I know that me even asking this might seem so unprecedentedly stupid. Her probably doesn’t want you talking to me, which I get, and I know you feel conflicted about me being here… but… fuck… Princess, I have to know something about Her. Anything. I don’t care if it’s the smallest, most insignificant detail you could think of. Just one thing… that’s all.”

The delivery was undoubtedly begging, perhaps pathetic, but he could not find it within himself to care. He missed you too fucking much, to the point it was becoming insufferable, unliveable.

Folding one leg over the other, Princess leaned back and grabbed onto her matcha, spinning it slightly. She was no longer meeting his eyeline, and that drowned his hopes in a watery grave.

He settled his elbows onto the table, his finger gripping at the air with every pleading word that he could somehow conjure.

“I know you don’t want to; I-I know it. I know she fucking hates me, detests me, wishes we never met. But this is the most regretful I’ve ever been, a-about anything in my life. And—I know that I’m pushing you—I’m sorry—I’m so fucking sorry—if I can just know one thing, I’ll leave you alone. I-I mean, is she… did she get a new shirt, after that one ripped, on the hanger? Does she still go to the SSA meetings? Or—I don’t fucking know—is she writing? Is she doing something new? Have you seen her smile at all? Or heard her laugh? Genuinely laugh. The one where she can’t even breathe and she grips onto you and buries her head into your neck? Is she still just as quippy? Constantly rambling over herself? I miss that so much… I miss all of it… everything about her… there’s nothing I don’t miss.”

Princess was biting her lip, refusing to say a word.

Wonwoo hadn’t intended to barrage her. Nonetheless, he couldn’t leave the café without wholeheartedly trying.

“Fuck…” he exhaled, placing his forehead against the black wood of the table, breathing back the bitterness, the frustration, the tears. Princess was a boulder, it seemed. He’d lost, picking his head back up after a moment of composure, and pushed out his chair.

“You’re leaving?” She asked, her gaze heavy with sadness.

He nodded. “I just—I… yeah.”

“Okay… later.”

“Bye, Princess,” he answered, his throat irritably tight.

“… Well—o-okay, actually…”

As her voice picked up amongst the cluttering dishes and drawls of conversation, Wonwoo turned around to see the girl’s remorseful expression and the hands shoved tightly under her arms. Princess paused, staring at the coffee mug he’d abandoned at the table.

“… She needs you.”

Wonwoo stiffened, then nearly scoffed in disagreement.

“She hates me. What do you mean?”

But Princess shook her head, making a twisting motion at her lips like she was fastening the lock to a chest. It was her one thing.

And Wonwoo had no idea what to make of it.

It had been far too long since Wonwoo last texted, spoke to, or saw Vernon. When he left for an entire week to stay at his uncle’s cottage in the midst of July,  he hadn’t even shot the boy a message that he was leaving. As cold or uncompassionate as it may have sounded, Wonwoo never really considered Vernon to be that important or necessary to his life until he sat back and thought about their relationship: a studious loner with an unperturbed drug dealer who somehow formed a bond that hadn’t predictably eroded.

Sure, it helped that Vernon became his plug and there was technically a reason for their symbiosis, but what Wonwoo hadn’t taken note of was their closeness over the months.

Perhaps it was guilt, or the sting of losing you and having experienced Princess treat him like an ugly secret, or the simplistic, innate need for human contact, that Wonwoo finally decided to reach out and invite the boy over for a smoke. Vernon agreed, though it wasn’t until the near cusp of midnight that he stopped by. Together they sat on the complex rooftop, two perfectly packed blunts between them, lit by their sparking lighters. The conversation drifted from topic to topic like a passive leaf being tugged through a breeze.

Wonwoo was able to realize how desperately he needed a moment like that—no guards, no anxiety, no hyper-analyzing every little goddamn comment or action—just friendship.

And Vernon made it easy.

“Not to mention the fact that Seokmin—he fuckin’ sucks at mini-puttin’ by the way. Jesus Christ, man. There was a twelve-year-old girl a hole behind us who was makin’ shots like Tiger Woods, and then here we are, waitin’ for Seokmin to make a shot that is damn near impossible to—like, okay—tell me why he’s got one leg on the fuckin’ rock and the other stretched halfway across the laneway like he's droppin’ into the splits? Why does it need t’be that hard!”

Shaking his head, Wonwoo half-laughed, half-coughed into his elbow, the smoke instantly rushing back out his mouth.

“Holy fuck. I wish I’d seen that in person.”

“No,” Vernon deadpanned, rolling up his sleeves, “you don’t. At that point, just pick up the ball and move it into the hole, man. That twelve-year-old’s got places to be and we’re over here climbin’ on rocks and crawlin’ under bridges like it’s a fuckin’ jungle gym.”

“I’m surprised they even let you in.”

“Oh—me too,” he chuckled. “Fuck someone once in the storage closet at glow-in-the-dark mini-put and suddenly you’re ‘a detriment to the company.’ Like, get the fuck outta my face.”

“You live, you learn.”

“Well, she’s still there. Somehow.”

“Ruby?”

“Yeah—just sold her like two-hundred bucks of ecstasy.”

Wonwoo threw his head back and cackled.

“You still talk to her?!”

“No, no—Ruby’s chill! Always came to work stoned half the time, though. Dude, no. It was the other girl that fuckin’ ratted on us.”

“Damn… so, is Ruby the one?” Wonwoo teased.

As Vernon removed the joint from his lips, a swift trail of smoke ejected into the nighttime air. He huffed in disagreement.

“Nah. She’s a good friend you can screw on the low. Know you guys won’t catch feelings. Makes it easy. That’s what I’m about.”

“Yeah. Simple enough.”

Scraping his thumb against the rough spark wheel of his favourite Bic, Wonwoo lit the small, dancing flame, bringing it close to his blunt and crisping the paper more heavily. He proceeded to draw in a long, smooth breath. The atmosphere was almost silent if not for the distant murmur of midnight traffic. Wonwoo watched the abundant smoke as it slowly streamed out his nose. It eventually dissipated against the blackness, existing just long enough for Wonwoo to appreciate that weightless sensation it gave him.

Vernon swept a hand through his hair, smiled at Wonwoo.

“Okay, so, feel free to tell me to fuck off—” the boy began with notable caution, taking a quick hit before removing the blunt from his lips “—but, uh, what exactly… did happen… between you and Her?”

For a moment, the vigilantly placed question hovered in the cool summer air as Wonwoo breathed out another cloud. However, he didn’t let the smoke disappear on its own, rather he blew into it harshly and forced the flurry to melt. One way or another, he knew this topic would surface. And Vernon was right—he completely had the right to tell his friend to fuck off—because no matter how much time had passed since, Wonwoo still felt the wound with all the freshness and intensity of that night. He remained stiff, thinking.

Sensing the reluctancy, Vernon abandoned his request.

“Y’know, it doesn’t matter. We’re havin’ fun, anyway.”

Wonwoo was going to agree—yeah, let’s skip it—but at the last second, he burned the reliable safety of his choice. The thing was, he hadn’t really discussed the fight with anybody. Sitting down and talking to Princess didn’t bestow the alleviation or closure that Wonwoo thought it would, especially considering her loyalty to you and the fact she hadn’t desired that conversation more than she desired a hole in the head. He was able to relieve some tension upon visiting his uncle’s, but, ultimately, Wonwoo was doing the exact thing you had accused him of—letting things sit and fester.

Shutting everyone out.

Poisoning himself, and those around him.

After tugging at the edge of his thick beanie, Wonwoo rubbed a knuckle against his forehead and decided to bite the bullet.

“Uh, no—all good. You’re curious, I get it.”

Vernon’s eyes widened underneath the moonlight and the warm, glowing radiance that crept over the building precipice. He nearly choked on the smoke.

“Wait—dude. Really?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo angled his face toward him, nodding.

“Okay, uh… wow. Wasn’t expectin’ to get this far.”

“Need a moment to catch your breath, yeah?”

“Psh—shut the fuck up, Glasses… actually—no, yeah. Let me take a hit first. I feel like this is gonna be a deep-dish pizza, y’know?”

“Somewhat, I suppose,” Wonwoo agreed.

He copied his friend, crisping the blunt one last time before pressing his lips around the paper and drawing in a big breath.

Right before the prickling could desiccate his throat, Wonwoo exhaled everything into the abrupt breeze—not just the smoke, but his fears, his worries—whatever might stunt or thwart him from understanding that it wasn’t so terrifying to be candour.

Vernon shook out his shoulders.

“Okay, player. You’ve got my attention.”

Wonwoo swallowed.

How the fuck does one go about saying this?

“So, uh…”

Where does he even start?

“I guess the important part is…”

What’s going to happen if he chokes on all his words?

“Okay, so, we basically… um…”

Wonwoo, you have spent practically your entire life writing and crafting sentences and the most adolescent, tormented prose imaginable—how is it that you cannot configure one thought?

“I’m… I’m kind of in love with her.”

He thought about glancing at Vernon to gauge his reaction, especially when his friend didn’t offer one word in response, not even a pointed hmph, or a sniffle, or something satirical to suggest that all his teasing had some actual truth and substance.

But Wonwoo didn’t look.

Vernon was giving him the floor to keep going.

“And… that night, at the party, we had this really sincere moment… I mean, maybe it wasn’t that sincere—she’d just done a line of coke and had been sipping alcohol and smoking all night. But that’s how it felt when it was happening. After the bullshit with Bells, I took her to a spare bedroom to calm down. She asked me to lay with her.”

Wonwoo paused to collect his breathing. Even just the memory of your body pressed against his was enough to rake up those buried emotions from his insides like old, autumn leaves. The memories of your heat, and the giggling into his neck, and the way your fingers would occasionally trace shapes on his chest as you listened to him talk—nothing had ever felt so cosmically right.

“Um… yeah. I don’t know why I agreed. I didn’t care about if it was wrong or right. If Mingyu came barging in, or someone else, or—fuck, if the goddamn roof caved in—I didn’t care. I just wanted to be with her so fucking bad. We didn’t kiss or anything. We just laid there together, like, intertwined, you know? I told her some stuff. We were just talking… I think, in my mind, I just wanted to have this moment where I was something to her, more than a friend. And I just—I put this stupid fucking notion in my head that it was true.”

Eyes squeezed shut, blunt poised between his fingers, Wonwoo rode the high of another hit, ignoring the deep, sensitive pain cutting his bone marrow. He kept excavating despite the hurt.

“But—I-I mean, a girl like that?” He laughed, head bending down between his propped knees. “A girl like that, you know? She is so—sh-she’s—I shouldn’t want her at all. I should want nothing to do with her. But—I don’t know—she has drive, and things she’s passionate about, and she can be so unrelenting and fucking bossy, but then so soft, and calm, and I just get drawn into her like a moth to a flame. I think everything’s okay, you know? I don’t get that… that dread—that feeling like I’m constantly failing, and useless, and like everything is out to get me.”

Wonwoo hadn’t glanced at Vernon once. He didn’t want to.

That way, it felt like he was alone, talking to himself, maybe talking to the moon. It erased the veil of pressure and eased his typically constrained, rigid muscles. Feeling his glasses begin to slip, Wonwoo lifted his head, pushing the circled frames back up his nose.

“I don’t know why it’s like that. I don’t know why it’s her, specifically. Sometimes I wish it wasn’t. She has Mingyu to love. And it just—it fucking frustrates me so much—" Wonwoo breathed out the irritation, licking his lips, “—because we’re having this sweet moment, and it’s so perfect, and right. But then all of a sudden, he’s just—he—she's letting him fuck her. Like that moment we had was nothing, like I didn’t just be the most open I’ve ever been with her. And—I know, I know—she’s high as fuck and not thinking straight. So, what do I chalk us up to, then? A bad trip? A blur in time? A moment you live once and then just forget? What the fuck do I make of that?”

Something crackled inside him, akin to match being lit, palpable enough that it motivated the boy to his feet because this cramped, knees-to-chest position wouldn’t suffice in channeling the energy he felt. Wonwoo moved the blunt to his lips, attempting to speak while it hung at the corner of his mouth, though he only left it there for a few seconds in his urgence for another hit. He started pacing.

“That was such a dogshit moment, you know? Going down there, wanting it to be a lie, almost believing it, but then—I hear it. I-I hear the way she’s getting fucked and I hear her moans and her whimpers and I hear the way he’s using her.” Wonwoo kicked a stone off the edge of the building, one hand shoved into his sweats pocket while the other fed him a brief inhalation from the blunt. “I’ve never felt that before. Awful. Like, indescribable devastation. I ran to the washroom to throw up because my body just couldn’t handle it. It felt like such a kick in the fucking teeth. And I was mad at her—like, fuck you for throwing back all that trust into my face, you know?”

He shook his head, then balancing at the rim of the complex like a fall from that height wouldn’t leave him broken.

“I was so fucking pissed at her…” Wonwoo muttered, staring down at the shadowed streets, “every time I thought about it, I just felt sick… but, obviously, we have to hash it out. That’s why she jumped you, or whatever—I wasn’t texting her back because I knew nothing good would come from it. Like I said, though… she’s unrelenting. Shows up at my door, banging on it like there’s a murderer outside. I was in a terrible headspace. I… I kind of…”

The words jammed on his tongue.

Wonwoo had to walk away from the ledge as a foggy sensation muddled his senses. Hands, beginning to tremble, pulled in torment down the back of his black beanie, the blunt caught between his fingers as he remembered the inexcusable maliciousness to his ranting. It echoed through his head like a gong.

He squatted down, rubbing at his wrinkled, aching brow.

“I… I basically—j-just—I tore her to fucking shreds.”

There was so much emotion clogging his throat. Every word was a struggle to enunciate, and each one burned and stung more tangibly than the last, as though he’d swallowed knives.

“It didn’t even feel good, you know? It wasn’t cathartic, or victorious. I felt like… do I even deserve anything? She went into the hall and… that sob. Oh my god… bawling her eyes out because of my stupidity. Because of my inability to be a fucking person as she mentioned.”

Wonwoo stared at the grit covering the roof.

He reached out his hand, letting the small bits of rubble stick to his fingertips, thinking, about everything, how he destroyed it. You were just a panicked river, trying to heal and soothe, but the message was lost under the current. Wonwoo had been a scalding fire, one that charred everything the instant it touched his vengeful heat.

There were only ashes. He didn’t know how to rebuild a relationship from something so fragile and ruined at his beckon.

The frustration was boiling in Wonwoo’s gut. All his shortcomings, the ignorance to the flaws he buried, how he treated you—it was all bubbling together like some sort of poisonous, infectious brew and if he didn’t somehow release pressure then he would crack like ceramics. Wonwoo maneuvered the thick blunt from his fingers into his palm where he crushed it, hard.

“Uh, Wonwoo? It’s… it’s okay, man. You—”

“Fuck!”

The tattered piece of crisped tobacco paper and grinded weed flew into the air, the breeze pulling the remnants somewhere unimportant. Vernon immediately smothered his words. He could only stare, frozen, as Wonwoo tore off his glasses, rubbing a sweater sleeve against the beginning pricks of tears that bulbed up from his eyes. He sucked in a long, shuddering, ragged breath.

“I fucking hate this, Vernon. I-I’m everything she said I was. I do it to myself. I always do it to myself. I want to change so badly but it never feels like it’s happening fast enough, a-an-and—and—and—”

“Glasses, relax, okay?”

Vernon was on his feet in an instant, quickly brushing his hands off against the fabric of his jeans, the blunt now tucked behind his ear. Wonwoo continued rubbing into his eyes. His friend’s face appearing before him was nothing but watery smudging, almost like a ruined oil painting. Wonwoo hiccupped.

“No—Vernon—y-you don’t understand, you—I-I fucked up, alright? I fucked up so bad! I—” he could hardly breathe, his glasses dropped somewhere on the roof, “—I just wrecked everything and—”

“Wonwoo! Jeon Wonwoo!” Vernon gripped his shoulders and shook them sternly. “Shut up! You’re takin’ all the fuckin’ air!”

The abruptness snapped a wire in Wonwoo’s brain. It was so unexpected that he almost wasn’t sure if it happened. However, his torrent of seemingly endless anxious thought began to falter, with a very slow but gradual concentration toward the softness rosying his friend’s blurred face. Vernon rubbed against Wonwoo’s trembling arm, and with a gentle tug, urged him to sit down.

“C’mon, get on your ass… there ‘ya go. Awesome. Now… where’s your—oh, shit—they’re right here. Lucky you, huh?”

Vernon crouched down in front of him.

As Wonwoo busied himself with carving those scratches against his thumb, Vernon extended a hand to his friend’s cheek.

“Let me rid get of these tears… so you… can actually… see…”

With a grunt, Vernon fell back onto his butt.

“Let’s put these on, yeah? Are you okay with that?”

Vernon seemed to accept the quietness as him not quite being ready, and so the boy settled for resting a tattooed hand on Wonwoo’s knee, familiarizing him with a grounding touch. In due time, Wonwoo was relaxed enough to properly swallow.

Vernon smiled at him.

“So, does Glasses need his glasses now?”

Wonwoo sniffled, imitating a rumbling sound to clear his brittle throat, meanwhile there was a breeze ghosting along his exposed nape. It was just as comforting as Vernon’s touch.

“Y-Yes… thank you.”

“Hey, no problem. I’m just glad they didn’t get crushed.”

When his friend’s calm face clarified in the silver moonlight, with his unjudgmental eyes, and his compassionate smile, Wonwoo began to realize that… perhaps, being trusting and vulnerable and honest was not the worst thing in the world. There was merit and relief. There was a friend waiting on the other side with an open hand.

“Vernon… I, um… I’m—”

“Listen, Glasses. If you’re gonna apologize to me, then shove it right back up your ass. Seriously. There’s no need.”

“Well, I mean…” Wonwoo wiped his runny nose, “I kind of unloaded on you, and, I didn’t intend for that. I really didn’t.”

“I asked you a loaded question in the first place, didn’t I? I ordered a deep-dish pizza and that’s what I fuckin’ got.”

“Well… I-I… I’m glad you can look at it that way.”

“God, Wonwoo. You’re actin’ like this was a total blindside. I know you, y’know? Maybe not to a tee, but I know you.” Vernon kept his hand against Wonwoo’s knee, dusting some grit from it. “And I know you’re gonna feel regretful about all this, but you shouldn’t, alright? ‘Cause, look—you did somethin’ that most people—they go their entire lives without doin’. You dug deep and acknowledged your flaws. And not just the pansy shit, like—oh, I’m bad at time management, I forget to put the dishes away, I don’t fill up the ice cube tray, I never reply to texts—I mean the real stuff.

The really dark, uncomfortable stuff that we know is there but it’s so much easier to ignore. The stuff that gets in the way of our happiness, or success, or connections—bein’ the sin-sincerest versions of ourselves—it’s so much easier to pack all that bad stuff down. It’s there but at least it’s not out here. But then, like, maybe one day it is out here. And it’s hurtin’ everything around you. And some people will still let it slide because there’s always somethin’ else to blame. What is that bullshit—acceptance is always the hardest part? I don’t fuckin’ know. Anyway, you should give yourself some credit, Glasses. Seriously. I’m proud.”

“Proud?” Wonwoo chuckled weakly, returning the warmth of his friend’s honeyed eyes. “That's such a mom thing to say.”

Vernon’s hand shifted to whacking Wonwoo’s arm. “Don't get smart.”

“No, uh—I’m joking. Thank you, Vernon… really.”

“Hey, I know I’m your drug dealer, but I consider us friends, y’know? And not every friend’s gotta be your support beam. But I think you’re someone worth supportin’… hey—that sounded pretty smart and eloquent, right? I’m basically you, now.”

Wonwoo smiled. “You're missing the glasses.”

“I’ll just take yours,” Vernon chided, giving his friend’s chest a light push, “what’re you gonna do, anyway? Four-eyes.”

“I think if you wore these for more than five minutes… you’d get a migraine,” Wonwoo supposed, watching Vernon nod his head.

“Damn. You’re probably right. Not worth it.”

“Mmhm…”

“… But, um… y’know what I do think is worth it?”

Wonwoo raised his eyebrow.

Vernon paused, as though to contemplate his response, but when the words left his mouth, there was pure firmness behind them.

“Man, you need to talk to Her.”

Pressing his lips together, Wonwoo stared off into the corner.

Vernon nudged his arm, attempting to engage him.

“I’m serious! You know she’s perfect for you, right? A bossy girl who’s about her shit but can soften up for you is exactly what you need. Girls like that—they care so fuckin’ much, y’know? And she’s majorly into you. I saw how she hugged you at the party. How she got all smiley and sweet. I mean, she was gonna punch Bells in the fuckin’ face to stop her from makin’ a move on you. She’s got a man, I know. And I’m not sayin’ be a fuckin’ homewrecker. But, like, I don’t know… Mingyu’s all image and no substance. A fuckin’ airhead.”

Wonwoo massaged along his forehead, chuckling.

“I thought you liked him.”

“Yeah, well, I liked him a lot more when he was handin’ me two-hundred ‘a Seungcheol’s bands. I know he just invited me to that party ‘cause I can get him n’ his rich friends high. I’m not stupid. Keep your enemies close, and your friends—wait, fuck—keep your—”

“Friends close and enemies closer?”

Vernon grinned, wide and gummy. “Bingo.”

“Good advice.”

“You’re insane if you don’t do it.”

“If I don’t talk to Her?”

“Yes! Don’t let her go! Are you crazy, Glasses?!”

“What am I supposed to say? I-I was such a cunt.”

“I don’t fuckin’ know, man—offer to lick hers. Bet she’ll forgive you right there on the spot. Damn. That’s how I’d do it.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Idiot.”

“Eh, whatever. You’ll figure it out. I know you will.”

Wonwoo exhaled a large, solacing breath, glancing toward the moonlight that beautifully shimmered down in its pearlescent webs, bathing the rooftop akin to the blue mirages at the nature museum.

Vernon was right.

He couldn’t let this be the end of your story.

—END OF PART FOUR.

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

The Werewolf and the Angel Chapter 1- Remus Lupin x OC

Remus Lupin x Violetta Cook

Description: Upon arriving at Hogwarts Violetta is shocked to see the new DADA professor.

Word Count: 2k

1993

Violetta woke up abruptly, nearly shooting out of her seat. A whisper of an old friend’s name strayed from her lips, then she shook her head quickly as if to get the thought of that awful man out of her mind. She knew that it was all for naught though, unfortunately. 

Sirius Black had been on her mind ever since the news of his escape had come out. She could still distinctly remember the fear and dread that filled her senses when she read about the bastard’s escape in the Daily Prophet. She barely had time to set the paper down before she was attempting to check on Harry. As per usual, Petunia and Vernon refused to let her anywhere near their house, even when she explained the situation to them. But, the fact that they still talked about Harry in the present tense let her know that he was okay.

“Miss Cook,” she heard someone say from beside her, nearly making her jump out of her skin. She whipped around and came face to face with Professor McGonagall, who seemed just as surprised, though she was because she hadn’t been expecting the frantic reaction. Violetta took a moment to take a deep breath and calm herself down before answering. 

“Yes, Professor?” 

“Erm, I was just letting you know that we have arrived. I suggest you grab your things and get off before the train leaves with you still on it.” Her announcement remained formal, but the younger professor could see a hint of worry in her eyes. Violetta licked her oddly dry lips then nodded gratefully. 

“Very well, thank you.” She stood on slightly shaky legs and grabbed her things from the compartment overhead as McGonagall walked out. 

As Violetta stepped off of the Hogwarts Express and onto the platform of Hogsmeade she couldn’t help but smile. After all this time, she still considered Hogwarts to be her home away from home. If she thought she loved coming here as a student, she loved it ten times more now that she was a professor. It brought her so much joy when she was able to help struggling students the exact same way her favorite professors did all those years ago. 

The best part, she decided, was that she got to see her dear godson, Harry Potter, just about every day. She’d gotten the privilege of two (school) years connecting with him and learning all about him. It felt so odd to be in the presence of James and Lily’s son without them around, though she wasn’t complaining. Violetta still loved him just as much as the day he was born and she was so excited to be his teacher and make up for lost time. 

That put a pep in her step as she headed for her room, saying hello to the other staff on the way there. After she finished unpacking she had to quickly get dressed into some nicer clothes for dinner with the incoming students. 

Violetta had to do a double take as she walked into the Great Hall. She nearly stopped in her tracks when she realized there was a new but still familiar face that attracted her line of sight. No, it couldn’t be. Was he really here? 

Yes, he was. The one and only Remus Lupin sat in a chair at the Professors table at the back of the Great Hall talking to Professor Sprout. Memories of the last time she’d seen him all those years ago flooded through her, hitting her like a tidal wave. 

“Sirius Black, open up in the name of the law!” Someone - likely Kingsley Shacklebolt - yelled through the door of 12 Grimmauld Place on the night of October 31, 1981. 

“Sirius, what's going on?” Violetta asked hesitantly from behind Remus, looking and feeling absolutely terrified.

“Birdie, please, it’s not what you think,” Sirius said urgently. He took a step towards her with his hand outstretched, though it was slapped away by Remus, who stood in front of her like a shield. Banging was heard on the door yet again, nearly making the Veela girl jump out of her skin, shortly before the aurors burst through the front door downstairs. 

“Search the house,” she heard Kingsley order followed by stomping upstairs. Moments later someone burst into the bedroom that the trio stood in. It was Kingsley, as she expected, with several aurors behind him. 

“There he is. Arrest him,” he instructed. As the aurors ran inside and grabbed Sirius’s arms, Barty spoke again.

“Sirius Black, you are hereby charged with the murder of James and Lily Potter, Peter Pettigrew, and twelve others as well as conspiracy to aiding The Dark Lord Voldemort.” Both Violetta and Remus’ eyes widened at his proclamation and they looked at Sirius.

“What?” The girl asked breathlessly, not believing what she was hearing. The aurors began yanking him out.

“Vi, Moony, don’t believe this!” He yelled between struggling against the aurors that were holding him back. “I’m innocent! I haven’t done anything!” Violetta’s eyes filled with tears at his desperate words, she had no idea who to believe or what to think. Sirius killed James, Lily and Peter? No. He wouldn’t. Right? 

“You two need to come in for questioning,” they heard a voice beside them. It was Alastor Moody who, despite his usual gruff demeanor, looked sympathetic towards them. 

Violetta nodded then glanced at Remus, who was still staring at the now empty doorway with tears in his eyes. Carefully, she reached a hand out and rested it against his arm. He flinched, as if he hadn’t expected the touch, then relaxed when he faced her. She offered him a weak and watery smile before speaking. 

“Come on,” she whispered. She hated that her voice cracked, but Remus barely seemed to hear it because he just stared at her for a moment. Finally he nodded, a numb sort of look on his face, and he allowed her and Moody to lead him out. 

Their questioning lasted for hours. The aurors had to be thorough to make sure that they weren’t aware of Sirius’ deviation to Lord Voldemort’s side. By the time they got out the sun had risen. The couple had returned to their flat in complete silence as they attempted to process what had happened last night. James, Lily and Peter were dead, and Sirius had killed them. 

The next few months were a blur to both of them. Violetta had taken off from her job and Remus had already quit his job two months prior to the incident. Remus didn’t talk much anymore. To be honest Violetta wasn’t sure he was mentally or emotionally aware that she was there. She’d long given up on trying to have a conversation with him because ninety-nine percent of the time it was one sided. They had drifted apart from each other before she could even attempt to stop it. They were both grieving, and Violetta knew that it wasn’t any better with their environment. 

Remus didn’t even spare her a glance as she moved out of their flat. In fact, she wasn’t even sure he was aware that she’d been leaving until she was gone. There were several times where she almost dropped her things and ran back to him. She remained headstrong, however. It continued to hurt her everyday to know that they had drifted apart the way they had, but she knew that neither of them could even attempt to begin healing if they continued the way that they did. 

After so many years without seeing him, there he was in her natural glory. He looked exactly as he had when they broke up, and yet he was more handsome. There was a sense of maturity to him that he didn’t really have last time she’d seen him, and she was quick to realize maturity looked good on him. Violetta was quick to come back to her senses when Dumbledore appeared beside her seemingly out of nowhere. 

“I see you’ve noticed our newest addition to the Hogwarts staff, Professor Cook,” he commented conversationally. She nodded slowly, her gaze on her old lover a second longer before facing the older man. 

“Yes sir,” she answered coolly. “Am I correct to presume that he is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?” The man nodded in response. 

“Well, you might want to take a seat. The students will be here any minute,” he added before walking to the High Table. She followed a moment later and took a seat between Snape and Remus. 

“Professor Cook, did you have a good summer?” Snape questioned politely. 

“I did,” she responded with a small smile. “And there’s no need for the formalities, Severus. The students haven’t arrived yet.” They continued conversation with ease while Remus, who hadn’t originally been paying attention to the newest addition to the High Table, turned around so fast he thought he’d get whiplash when he heard her voice. 

The first years were sorted quickly, thankfully. Once everyone was seated at their house table Professor Flitwick led the choir in a lovely start of term song along with a quintet of toads and a harpsichord to keep them in tune. Once the song concluded everyone clapped politely, and Dumbledore stood up. 

“Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say, before we become befuddled by our excellent feast. I myself am particularly looking forward to the flaming kiwi cups, which, while somewhat treacherous for those of us with facial hair…” he trailed off, earning several laughs before McGonagall cleared her throat, prompting him to continue. “First, I'm pleased to welcome Professor R.J. Lupin, who has kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Good luck to you, Professor.” Remus stood up with a small smile, waving at the students politely as they clapped. Violetta clapped as well, her eyes remaining on the man for a few minutes even after the headmaster continued.

“As some of you may know, Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher for many years, has decided to retire in order to spend more time with his remaining limbs,” he announced. “Fortunately, I'm delighted to announce that his place will be filled by none other than our own Rubeus Hagrid!” Violetta gasped excitedly, having not even noticed Hagrid sitting at the high table, and clapped enthusiastically. 

The man in question turned ruby red and, at the nudge of Professor Flitwick, stood up. He nearly toppled the table over in the process, then again when he sat back down. Violetta laughed softly and shook her head amusedly before facing Dumbledore, who at that point had become grave. 

“Finally, on a more disquieting note, Hogwarts - at the request of the Ministry of Magic - will, until further notice, play host to the Dementors of Azkaban,” he said, earning a murmur of apprehension from the students. Violetta wasn’t any better. She’d received word about the new guards of the school not long before it was time for her to go to Hogwarts. She still didn’t like it, knowing that it was a safety risk for both students and staff. But there was nothing she could do to protest it because the Ministry had already made a decision. It did make her feel better that Dumbledore also wasn’t happy about it. 

“The Dementors will be stationed at the entrances to the grounds. While they are under strict orders not to enter the castle itself, you will on occasion see them as you go about your daily activities. Under no circumstances are you to approach them. It is not in the nature of a Dementor to be forgiving,” he concluded before perking up. “Now, with all of that out of the way, let the feast begin.” 

As per usual, food appeared in every available space on the tables along with clean plates waiting to be filled. As Violetta ate her meal, she couldn’t help but think about all that had happened. Sirius Black had escaped prison, Dementors are going to be guarding the school on the chance that Sirius goes after Harry, and now her ex boyfriend was going to be teaching alongside her. It was only the first day back at Hogwarts, but Violetta just knew that it would be an interesting school year.

[project1939]

100+ Films of 1952

Film number 146: Bloodhounds of Broadway

Release date: November 14th, 1952 

Studio: 20th Century Fox 

Genre: musical 

Director: Harmon Jones 

Producer: George Jessel 

Actors: Mitzi Gaynor, Scott Brady, Mitzi Green, Marguerite Chapman 

Plot Summary: “Numbers” Foster and “Poorly” Sammis are two New York bookies fleeing the law. When their car runs out of gas in Georgia, their fates cross with Emily Ann, a sweet farm girl who dreams of the big city. They agree to take her to New York, where she uses her singing and dancing talents to earn a living. But will Numbers and Poorly manage to keep the police away? 

My Rating (out of five stars): ***¼  

I’ll admit I have a bit of a soft spot for 20th Century Fox musicals. They are often shamelessly cheesy fluff, but they have their own charm because they don’t take themselves seriously. Sonja Henie’s ice-skating musicals are one of my most embarrassing guilty pleasures, and even though Alice Faye’s films aren’t as silly, I love them too. This film didn’t reach the dizzying insanity of a Henie musical, but it was a bubbly and cute 90-minute diversion.

The Good: 

Mitzi Gaynor. She was barely more than a teenager here and came across as wholesomely adorable. She had a very natural screen presence and thankfully required no vocal dubbing. Her dancing was especially fun to watch. (And she’s still alive today at 92! Rock on!) 

Mitzi Green as Tess. I loved her so much as Rosetta in Lost in Alaska, and I was thrilled to recognize her here. She's got a terrifically distinctive speaking voice, and she can sing and dance to boot. Tess was a great character with an unusual mix of sweetness and wise-cracks. 

Marguerite Chapman as the cynical, mink loving, lounge singing mistress of Numbers. Va-va-voom!  

Wally Vernon as Poorly. He was a gifted comedic character actor- a total scene stealer. 

The Bloodhounds! They were so cute, they made me want to go out and adopt some. (They require a lot of exercise, though!) For some goofy reason they were named Nip and Tuck, which has a much different association 72 years later! 

The dance trio number between Gaynor, Green, and Richard Allan was the unquestionable highlight for me. I went back and re-watched it.

Gaynor gave her Southern character an actual Southern accent! And it wasn’t too bad either! By Hollywood standards of the time, when accents were laughably bad, it was pretty damn good. 

This was pure 20th Century Fox musical fluff. If that’s not your jam, you’ll probably want to skip the film. Obviously for me, that attribute goes on my “Good” list! 

The Technicolor looked its luscious best, and I can never get enough of it.

The Bad: 

The story was totally unbelievable. Yes, part of that works when the film is a wacky cornball musical, but it could also be distracting if you thought about it too much. 

Many of the musical numbers were not filmed especially interestingly. Fox didn’t have the master technicians of MGM’s musical department. The numbers were better shot than earlier films I’ve seen like Just for You and Somebody Loves Me, though. 

Another example of a Hollywood film somehow cramming the world’s largest stage into an impossibly small venue! 

Scott Brady as the male lead was handsome, but not much else, unfortunately. 

Were the poor dogs sedated at points? There were a couple of scenes where I seriously wondered! 

[sluttywonwoo]

“touch me.”

vernon tenses beneath you at the plea whispered in his ear. you’re both on the couch together, you laid on top of him like a weighted blanket, and on any other day vernon would be more than happy to do exactly as you asked… but today, right now? you’re at his friend’s place to watch… some sports event that he honestly can’t even be bothered to remember.

but the point is, you’re not alone. there are lots of other people around. and sure, they’re all absorbed in their own conversations, no one’s paying attention to the two of you tucked away in the corner, but there was still no way vernon would ever risk being caught in a compromising position like that. you wouldn’t either, which is what makes your behavior so confusing.

although maybe you actually just wanted him to touch you? maybe he just needed to stop thinking with his dick…

vernon wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you flush against his chest, hands skimming your hips before coming to rest on the small of your back.

“better?” he whispers back, only for you to shake your head.

“i want you to touch me,” you repeat, emphasizing it this time.

“you know i can’t do that here,” he sighs almost apologetically.

“but i need you,” you whimper. “feel so empty, nonnie.”

vernon gulps, feeling his jeans tighten at the desperation in your voice. he doesn’t know what’s gotten you so worked up but he’s a weak, weak man and he can never resist you for long. however, the issue of not being alone still stands.

he thinks of a compromise and decides that he doesn’t really give a fuck about his friend’s party anyway. neither of you had been paying much attention to the festivities in the first place.

“should we get out of here, then?” he suggests.

you nod dazedly and allow him to sit the both of you up. he fixes your shirt, smoothing the wrinkles from the fabric as best he can, and tucks your hair behind your ears so that it’s less all over the place.

now he just had to figure out how to get the two of you out of there without anyone noticing he’d popped a boner in the middle of a soccer? football? water polo? game.

[duhnova]

KINKTOBER | seventeen

every story is going to be between 500 - 2k words and they will all contain smut. the kinks will vary per story so please read the warnings at the beginning of every story before you read them! MDNI, everything is going to be explicit and wont be suitable for minors (or anyone that is uncomfortable with nsfw).

XMH • oct. 1

vampire!hao - feeding time for hao is never dull, but this time it takes a turn when you both finally show just how much you like it when he feeds from you

bloody kisses

LSM • oct. 3

demon!seokmin - whoever said church was the holiest place on earth has never stepped foot into yours 

(un)holy water

LJH • oct. 5

incubus!woozi - it’s second nature for woozi to seduce people, what isn’t apart of his nature is getting seduced by you 

second nature

CSC • oct. 7

husband!cheol - he takes the day off to suprise you with a bath when you get home from running errands 

overflowed

HVC • oct. 9

brothers best friend!vernon - your brother has warned you a lot about how his friends are bad influences but vernon takes the cake 

intoxicated

LC • oct. 11

best friends brother!chan - you weren’t suppose to fall for your best friends brother but it was hard not to when he looks at you with those round doe eyes 

doe eyes

YJH • oct. 13

ceo!jeonghan - you’re tasked to escort jeonghan to an important business meeting but he has other plans when he asks you to pull the car over

tinted windows

KMG • oct. 15

werewolf!mingyu - he tries to keep track of when he goes into heat but sometimes his math is a little off

hot, hot

JWW • oct. 17

gamer bf!wonwoo - you test to see just how good your boyfriends self control is and his friends are totally in on it

control me

WJH • oct. 19

lifeguard!jun - it’s after hours at the country club  and you and jun decide to enjoy some alone time in the pool 

dive in

KSY • oct. 21

ex!soonyoung - you finally get the courage to go pick your stuff up from soonyoung place, a long overdue conversation leads you back to his bed where he makes you question why you left him in the first place 

fragile heart

HJS • oct. 23

next door neighbor!joshua - unfortunately in the middle of your shower your hot water breaks so you have to go next door and ask your unnaturally hot neighbor if you can use his 

steamy

BSK • oct. 25

guardian angel!seungkwan - seungkwan wasn’t as holy as everyone though he was, especially since he’s fucking the person he swore to protect 

my angel

HHU • oct. 27

hip hop unit headcanons! - they like to bring a little thrill to the bedroom in the form of knives

knifeplay

VU • oct. 29

vocal unit headcanons! - they cant keep their hands off you, especially your neck

choking

PU • oct. 31

performance unit headcanons! - you're their perfect little angel and they love to ruin you

corruption

© duhnova 2022, please do not repost