#jooheon loving hours | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heottokes · 1 year ago

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𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠.

“i’ll love you the way you deserved to be loved.” to my dear changkyun, you were my first friend, my first love, and now my first goodbye. these are my letters to you.

word count: 16k

꒰ m.list ➭ before ꒱

Since I’ve said my peace, I can finally walk down this aisle and promise myself a new beginning; a new fate; a new life without you. I’m finally moving on. So, tell me, why after all these years am I seeing your face again?

───────── ☾ • ☽ ──────────

Falling in love with your best friend and writing handwritten letters made you feel like your life is a cliché B-rated rom-com movie. You had been writing your letters to Changkyun for the past couple of months. Every now and then you would dedicate your time to release your feelings on pen and paper. It was exhausting to say the least. First, you had to understand your feelings into words besides pterodactyl screams, ugly crying and cuss words. Second, your hand needed to function long enough to get everything out in one go – which doesn’t happen, so you’ve resorted on taking notes on your phone and then transferring them on paper when you get the chance. And lastly, you had to keep this a secret from your nosy roommate who had free access to visit your room at any time. You managed to survive and here you were, the letters neatly sealed in an envelope with no address to send it to. Maybe you didn’t think this through. Maybe it was for the best that you didn’t know. You didn’t write these letters for a response or answers. He doesn’t need to know how you feel. You just wanted closure. You just wanted a proper goodbye. Besides, you had no idea where Changkyun was much less where he lived.

As you held the letters in your hands, Jooheon messaged you. You almost shiver at the timing. Jooheon never brought Changkyun up since he held you for days that summer but if anyone were to be in contact with Changkyun, it would be him. Oh well, it couldn’t hurt to ask. You sent Jooheon a text asking him to come over.

You opened your first letter to read over again. Although he brought you a great amount of pain, you can’t help but smile as you reminisced. It was bittersweet. The memories you had with Changkyun were only good ones; the fact that he became a memory wasn’t. You were deep in your thoughts you didn’t hear Jaebum’s knock until you saw your door crack open. In a hurry, you scramble to hide your letters. You spread your arms across the papers to cover as many words as possible you can from Jaebum. He raises his eyebrow at you. “Bad timing?” His eyes are already calculating your form.

“No!” Not suspicious at all. “I mean, no – what’s up?” He glances at the papers on your desk. You stand up stuffing the papers in their envelopes as quickly as you can. You put the envelopes in the filing tray by your desk facing down – a detail you hope Jaebum doesn’t recognise. “I was just cleaning up.” You give him a smile. “What’s up?”

“I was just letting you know I was heading out.” Jaebum gave you a meaningful look – one, you both made to let the other know that you were not coming home tonight. You nodded not one bit phased and started tidying up your desk. Jaebum doesn’t say a word and closes your door once again. You sigh in relief and fix up the letters in the envelope.

Half an hour later you hear Jaebum get the door as you get up from the couch to make room for Jooheon. The two exchange pleasantries. “I brought Chinese.” Jooheon showed off once he saw you. “It’s only for two though, sorry Jae.” Jooheon says over his shoulder.

“All good. I was about to head out anyway.” Jaebum shrugs as he puts his leather jacket on. “Don’t wait up.” He says to you, and you mumble a ‘see you’ not even looking his way as you sit back down on the couch to watch your current favourite series.

Jooheon watches the two of you until Jaebum closes the door behind him. You tore your eyes away from the TV at the sound of Jooheon’s sigh. “I don’t know how you can have such a relationship with him.”

You smile as he joins you on the couch and you open the container. “Not my fault you’re too possessive to share Honey.” You teased him with a wink.

“Call me old-fashioned or a prude but a casual open relationship is not my style.” Jooheon turns his nose up at the idea.

You poke his dimple making him smile which made his dimple deeper. “I don’t think you’re either. You’re just a romantic. It’s good, there’s few out there nowadays. Too many scarred and broken to want to love like that anymore.” You said without any real meaning behind your words. It was just an observation of how society became.

Jooheon wasn’t as observant as Jaebum or Changkyun but that doesn’t change the fact that Jooheon knows you very well. He is your oldest friend after all. He understands there could be a meaning behind your words, and he didn’t like it one bit. “You’re not too scarred or broken to love, y/n.”

You give him a light smile brushing off the idea. “I wasn’t talking about me, Honey.” He frowns not believing you but lets the subject go anyway.

━━━☆

It had been a couple of hours since Jooheon came over when you decided to rip the band-aid off. You two had an old drama that was popular when you were younger playing in the background while you two talk. The opening song for the next episode started to play when you decided to ask, “Have you kept in contact with Changkyun?”

Jooheon’s eyes bulge out of its sockets at your question. If he was drinking water, he would have choked on it. You would have laughed if it wasn’t for the weight on your chest from the question. Jooheon stopped gaping at your sudden question trying to regain composure. He clears his throat. “Yeah, I have.” He answers in a whisper almost like he was ashamed to tell you.

You didn’t know why you wanted to cry. You didn’t feel betrayed by Jooheon – Changkyun was his friend as much as he was yours. Maybe even more of his friend than yours. He has every right to continue to be friends with him. But you had mixed feelings and a lot more questions now. “Can you do me a favour? Can you send him something for me? I’ll pay for postage.”

“Y/n,” You can hear the disapproval and sadness in his voice.

“I don’t want to talk to him. I’m not ready for that just yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be, but I need to do this for me.” For the second time of the night, Jooheon shuts his mouth knowing there was no point in convincing you otherwise. If this was what you needed to heal and he could help with that, then that’s what he’ll do. He wraps his arm around you as you both turn your attention to the TV, but you couldn’t focus on anything else after that.

───────── ☾ • ☽ ──────────

SEVEN MONTHS LATER.

Today was the day. You had no idea the day would come so soon but it has, and you are excited for it. It has been a long time coming. You can see everyone waiting in their seats for the bride to walk in. “Are you nervous?” Jooheon whispers to you.

“No, there’s nothing to be nervous about.” You reassure yourself and him. He smiles giving your hand a squeeze before walking down the aisle with his paired bridesmaid. You let out a heavy breath to steel your nerves as you wait for your turn.

When did time move so fast? You swore you could still remember the feeling of the steel benches you had to sit on in your high school cafeteria. You can still remember the faint ringing of team spirit for the football team when you close your eyes. You can still remember the sound of the clock ticking a little too loudly when the class was boring and dragging for way too long. But that time is long past, that is made apparent by this new milestone. You started walking down the aisle feeling nostalgic. Your eyes meet familiar faces, and you share a smile. Everyone is sharing the same warmth and glee as you. It was a day filled with happiness. You look ahead to finally see the groom in question. He is someone you treasured and adored for years. He is the person that deserves this love and happiness the most. He should be the happiest one standing at the altar at this moment. So why is he looking at you with what looks like apprehension? Is he worried about you? There wasn’t any reason to worry anymore. Since you said your peace and had your closure, you can finally walk down this aisle and promise yourself a new beginning; a new fate; a new life without him. You felt elated at your new resolution. You held your head high as you reached the end of the altar. You stand in your place facing the guests. You were finally moving on.

So, why is it after all these years are you seeing his face when you search the crowd? Why when you're finally moving on, is he right in front you making all your emotions flood right back? You felt your throat close as your eyes landed on the second row at the groom’s side. There was no mistaking it; you knew those deep watchful eyes from anywhere. Changkyun was right before your eyes after all these years, and he was looking straight at you. Your heart felt heavy with pain at his presence, but you feel butterflies in your stomach from his stare. This was not supposed to happen. Today marked your fresh start. Why was he here? Is that why Hoseok is looking at you like that? Someone’s head overshadows Changkyun breaking your eye contact. It was Chansoo trying to get your attention waving at you and smiling widely. You found yourself giving him a small smile and wave to not distract the rest of the guests. You watch Chansoo beam and whisper to Changkyun who didn’t tear his gaze away from you. It seemed to all fall in place. It wasn’t that surprising if Hoseok had invited Chansoo to his wedding given the two were classmates and close friends in high school but that didn’t explain why Changkyun was with him. You turn your attention to Hoseok who was watching you the entire time. You watch him mouthed an ‘I’m sorry’ while he sported his infamous puppy-dog eyes. You give a smile to ease him. Today wasn’t about you or Changkyun, you needed to remind yourself and Hoseok of that fact.

━━━☆

As happy as you are for Hoseok, you couldn’t focus on the ceremony at all. How could you when Changkyun is only a couple of feet away? You were stiff the entire time. You had to strain yourself to focus on the couple in front of you because you knew you would start crying if you were to look at him one more time. Changkyun, however, was the opposite. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you. He was taking notice of what had changed since he last saw you. It was the first time he had seen you with coloured hair – he thinks it suits you. You looked more mature, which made sense, but you had a different air around you which he couldn’t quite put his finger on. As he watched you walk down the aisle so confidently, he had the wind knock out of him. A flood of emotions went through him; regret that he couldn’t watch you become the woman you are now, melancholy as he is reminded of the memories he shared with you, and trepidation at the thought of what he would say to you and what you would say to him.

“I, now, pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The infamous line breaks you out of your daze just as Hoseok kisses his wife. You joined everyone in cheering for the two – finally feeling a sense of happiness since you’ve seen Changkyun. You dare to look at him as the couple walk down the aisle to see he’s still looking at you. You didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t even find it in you to give him a small smile and he couldn’t either. It was painfully awkward. Luckily, it wasn't long until it was your turn to walk down the aisle.

Jooheon meets you in the middle of the aisle confusing your partners, but he links arms with you without hesitating. “You saw him, right?” Jooheon whispers as you pass the man in question.

His eyes never leave your form as you continue to look ahead. “How could I not?” You answered with gritted teeth. “Did he receive my letters?”

Jooheon nodded which made you swear under your breath. “Didn’t you want him to read it?”

“Of course, but that’s because I thought I would never see him again in my life.” You sigh as you wait in the lobby for the photographer to call you back to take photos.

“Isn’t this good though? You guys can talk about what happened.”

You turn towards Jooheon to make sure no one can hear your conversation. “I’m not interested in talking about what happened Honey. I just wanted to say everything I didn’t get to say and be done with it.”

Jooheon’s eyebrows furrows in confusion. He understood where you were coming from, but he couldn’t help but think you were being selfish. “How is that fair on Changkyun, y/n?”

“How was it fair on me, Jooheon?!” You snapped before you could stop yourself. The people close to you look your way. You turn to Jooheon in a quieter voice. “Let’s just drop it. Just not today, okay?”

“You always want to drop it, y/n. Not today, not ever.” Jooheon rolls his eyes finally letting out the truth.

You frowned. “It’s Seokie’s wedding Jooheon. There’s a time and a place.”

“Really? Because in these past five years there didn’t seem to be such a thing?” You are shocked at Jooheon’s sudden frustration about the subject. During the past years, he had done nothing but avoid the topic. Clearly it wasn’t because that’s what he thought was the best but because he knew he couldn’t talk to you about it. “You’re not the only one that had a lot to say, y/n.” Jooheon says.

You gritted your teeth. “He was the one that left without a word. Not me.” Before Jooheon could argue further the photographer called the wedding party up.

Of course, the photographer wanted a photo of Hoseok and the bride with their high school classmates. You cling to Hyungwon and Jooheon to protect either side. You notice Changkyun stands a couple of meters behind you with Chansoo and Hyunwoo. “Can we have the tall one switch with you?” The photographer points to Hyungwon and someone from behind. Hyungwon gives you a smile before switching with the said person. You let Hyungwon go and look over at who he was switching with. Your heart stops as you watch Changkyun make his way over to you. He had changed a lot. He looked thinner but he was still as fit as ever. His jawline was as prominent as his nose and his shoulders looked broader than you remember – if that was possible. For once, he didn’t meet your eyes as he walked over to you and that gave you the confidence to stare at him. You couldn’t really see him all the way from the altar. He had pierced his ears and long dark hair that framed his forehead. You hated just how good he looked without you. Jooheon and the rest of the student council watched the two of you. You turn to look ahead once Changkyun reached you. “Perfect!” The photographer says giving everyone a ‘thumbs up’. Your body heated up at the feeling of his arm brushing against your shoulder. It was sheer torture. It was the longest three minutes of your life. Thankfully, the photographer requested everyone who wasn’t a part of the wedding party to step down, which made sure there wasn’t any room for either of you to say anything.

━━━☆

Due to the photographer being so efficient, the photoshoot was no nonsense and very professional. You couldn’t even have the time to pick up where you and Jooheon had left off because right when the photoshoot ended you were being swept away to head to the reception. It looked like the world wasn’t entirely against you since you weren’t “coincidentally” made to sit at the same table as Changkyun like in the movies. You sat with the newlyweds along with their parents and the rest of the bridesmaids and groomsmen. You momentarily forgot about your predicament while listening to everyone’s heartfelt speeches. You laughed and held back your tears. It was a truly magnificent experience – one you really wanted for yourself someday.

“Y/n! I’m so sorry I had no idea that Chansoo would have brought him as his plus one.” Hoseok apologises the second he could. After the events finished, the bride and groom started making their rounds of greeting and thanking their guests.

You smiled at the wonderful man. Even at his own wedding, he still looks after everyone else. “Seokie, don’t worry about it. It’s your wedding, act like it.” You lectured lovingly.

He kisses your hand in appreciation. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” You chuckle and send him away to his lovely bride to continue greeting their guests. Jooheon had left your side to socialise with his coworkers – as if he doesn’t see them daily. He was clearly avoiding you which made you roll your eyes.

“It’s been a while, little one.” A warm familiar voice catches your attention. You turn towards the voice to see Chansoo hovering over you with a smile.

You stood up to greet your childhood friend. “Chansoo, it’s so good to see you.” You both hugged each other naturally. “You haven’t changed one bit.” You laughed taking in his appearance.

“Wish I can say the same about you. You’re not so little anymore.” He replies getting his hand swatted away when he tried to rub your head like he used to. He laughs seeing that you haven’t forgotten his little habit towards you. “Do you wanna dance?” He asks extending his hand out for you. You give him a smile despite the ominous feeling in the pit of your stomach. You took his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. Your eyes tried searching the room for any sign of Changkyun, but you couldn’t find him. It was the first time that night you looked for him. “What have you been up to?” He asks as he places his free hand on your waist.

“The usual; managed to graduate for my bachelor's and I’m a fashion designer now. What about you?”

“Fashion designer? Who would have thought?” You smile in agreement. “After my service, I decided to become a policeman. I finished my training two years ago.”

He spun you around making you laugh. “That’s really good.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Chansoo asks as he pulls you to his chest.

“Not really,”

“Not really?” He repeats amused raising an eyebrow at your answer.

Before you could explain you hear someone clear their throat from behind you. You both turn to the interrupter, and your knees went weak. “Can I cut in?” No.

“Be my guest,” Chansoo answers for you. No. You wanted to scream. “I hope to see you more from now on, y/n. I’ve missed you.” Chansoo gives you a kiss on the cheek before handing you over to his brother.

He transfers your hand to Changkyun’s not giving you time to run away or refuse. Your hand tingles at the feeling of his calloused hand on yours. You felt like you had been frozen in time unable to function. The feeling of his hand on your waist was a different feeling compared to Chansoo’s; it ignited a fire inside you that you didn’t want to exist. You placed your hand on his firm shoulder and began to follow his movements. “It’s been a while.” You flinched from his touch upon hearing his voice. You stepped back and stared at his face; the two of you no longer dancing. It's been a while? That's all you have to say after all these years? Tears filled your eyes just as quickly as he appeared back in your life. You ran out of the room not wanting him or anyone see you cry. You ran into the garden sobbing. “Y/n,” He called after you. Just like old times, always chasing after you when you were upset. The thought felt bittersweet. He pulled you into his chest and cradled your head. “I’m sorry,” He whispers into your hair making you choke. “I shouldn’t have come; I knew I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry, I’ll leave.” You squeezed your eyes feeling a sense of déjà vu. You couldn’t believe that the boy who only brought you happiness and love now only caused you pain and heartbreak. “I just needed to let you know; I love you, I always have, I always will. I’m so sorry.” You were processing his confession when he kisses your forehead and lets you go for the second time. You felt numb as he placed an envelope into your hand and turned to leave. You watched his figure walk away from your vision before dropping on the stone bench next to you. Your mind was reeling, and you were sure your makeup was just as much of a mess as your heart was. You turn your attention to the envelope in your hand. It was the same envelope you had used to send your letters, but it had been worn out from the travel across countries, and it was thicker than you remembered. You pull out the letters you had written to see he had written ones himself. You gasp and start sobbing once again. Why did it turn out like this? It wasn't meant to be like this. Not when it came to him. You cried as you began reading his letters.

━━━☆

Y/n, the first thing I wanted to say after all these years is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for leaving, I’m sorry for the pain I have caused you, and most of all I’m sorry for not being strong enough. In truth, I’m not the amazing person you wrote about in your letters. In truth, I’m cynical and judgmental, I’m selfish and harsh. In truth, I never believed that I deserved to be in your life. I know you have several questions and I know that’s because I never chose to share my feelings or thoughts with you.

I never seem to do anything right when it came to you. When I first met you, I feared you. You were something so bright and innocent unlike myself who was so shy and gloomy, so I hurt your feelings and pushed you away. But after the first day we met, and I saw how upset you were by my words, I didn’t want to see you upset ever again. You were something foreign to me – kind of like an alien. For days, I watched you play by yourself talking to the sky and smiling as if it said something back. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I knew you were different than the rest. When my parents told me, your parents were rarely home I felt the need to protect you just like I protected the idea of dinosaurs existing. As I got to know you, I found you fascinating. You were so fierce yet so pure. You were something so unknown to me, and I wanted to figure you out.

I liked you from the start. At first, I excused it as brotherly-affection and the need to protect you. But I knew it was more when my blood boiled, and I saw red when I found out about the people who were bullying you. You had no idea how much I had to restrain myself from not beating them up from where they stood but I knew it might change the way you thought of me. You might become scared of me and that was the last thing I wanted. I did as much as I could without you knowing. I didn’t know what I would do if something were to happen to you.

I knew it was more when I felt a tinge of jealousy when you liked Jooheon. I thought, what was so great about him and not me? I was confused when that thought crossed my mind when I noticed your infatuation. I didn't understand why I cared so much to the point I resented Jooheon for a while. Everything I liked about him as a friend, I suddenly couldn't stand. I would compare myself against him and wonder what did he do to make you look at him like that? I knew it was more when I felt relief when you didn’t like him anymore. Everything with Jooheon went back to normal once you got over your crush on him. I didn't overthink everything I did in contrast to him. I didn't tense at every single interaction you had with him anymore. Even though I didn’t understand why I felt that way, all I knew was that it was because of you. It's always you.

It doesn’t excuse the pain I have put you through. But I thought you should know why I left without a word or warning. I was in love with you, y/n. I was head over heels in love with you. I would have done anything for you. I took care of you and loved you with my whole heart. And no, I did not expect anything back in return nor did I want anything back. I was completely satisfied being your best friend for the rest of my life. I swear on my life, everything I did for you was from my heart with nothing but pure intentions. I was content with being able to be in your life. All I wanted was to be there for you and make sure you were okay. I didn't love you because I wanted you to reciprocate my feelings, I loved you because of who you are, because of everything that you are.

When I accepted my place in your life, I knew that meant I would have to see you love and be loved by someone else. When Hoseok came to the picture, I could see it happening. I watched as you fell for him just like I had fallen for you. It was painful to know that you would never look at me with a light in your eyes like I hung the stars up in the sky for you. But I promised myself I would be okay with it, I told myself I was willing to go through that pain and I held on for so long. I swear to you I was going to stick by you with everything I have. I swear I was going to.

But then I did something stupid. For once, I let myself be selfish with you and it ruined my resolution. When I watched your heartbreak when you saw him kiss another girl, I felt like I was staring at my own reflection. It was like I was watching myself cry over you while you love someone else. I was filled with a lot of emotions; anger that someone made you feel heartbroken and sadness that you couldn’t spare me a look. With all the chaos that was going on in my head, I opened pandora’s box by kissing you. That kiss ruined me. It gave me a glimpse of what could have been. How can I stand by your side as your friend when I know how you taste? How can I be your best friend when all I wanted was to make you mine? It's insincere. I can't look you in the eyes and lie to you. I tried, trust me y/n, I really tried. Fuck, I was even your “friend”-date for prom, y/n. I held you in my arms multiple times, but you were never mine to hold. This doesn’t excuse a thing and it was selfish on my part I know that. But I couldn’t handle the idea of not being able to love you with all of me. I couldn’t handle the idea of someone else loving you in my place. I wanted to be that person for you. I wanted to be your person.

I watched you become an independent and strong woman and it made me fall in love with you even more. You were always the strong one between us, y/n. I watched as you became someone that didn’t need me in your life – maybe you didn’t need me in the first place, but I fooled myself to believe that you did. Because I watched you grow into the person you are, I thought you would be better off without me. I felt guilty to be by your side while thinking of you in ways you never thought of me. I began to doubt our friendship. Were we only friends because I was in love with you? Was everything I had done for you was because I wanted you to look at me as a man? I didn’t know what to believe anymore. But I felt like I was taking advantage of your friendship. Everything you had done for me came from pure intentions, out of the goodness of your heart. At the beginning, when I didn’t realise my feelings for you, I can guarantee it was the same for me. But when I realised how I felt, how can I say for sure? The lines blurred. I didn’t know what was what anymore.

I wanted to distance myself from you, y/n. Even though you had moved on from Hoseok just like you did with Jooheon, I knew there was just going to be another one. I knew that I would never be the one for you. I was really frustrated at the time. I wished I could go back to the days where I thought nothing more about the way my stomach fluttered when you took my hand in yours or the way my heart swelled in pride and adoration when you fell asleep next to me. I really wished I had never figured out the way I felt about you because once I knew, I knew I wouldn’t be able to be in your life anymore. The idea of never being able to have you haunted me for years. The feeling of your warmth suffocated me at night and our first kiss consumed all my senses.

That was the reason why I left. It doesn’t excuse a single thing, but I wanted to give you, my reason. There wasn’t a day that went by where I don’t think about your face that day – your heartbroken expression, the trembling in your voice when you begged me to stay, and the feeling of what could have been promised by your kiss. I wanted to give you the world, y/n – as a friend and as someone who loved you. Regretfully, I failed to keep the promises I made to you and myself. I promised myself to never hurt you, but I ended up hurting you the most. I promised myself to take care of you like no other, but I ended up pushing you away. I promised myself not to ruin our friendship, but I did. I am so sorry for the way everything turned out between us. I am the only one to blame. I am sorry for being a coward. I am sorry for not being able to love you in this life. If you still mean what you said, I hope to meet you in another life as well and I promise, I will love you with no reservation, with no fear, and with all of me. You will always be my person, y/n.

━━━☆

Changkyun walked to the reception to grab his things and leave. He congratulates Hoseok on the way before making his way to the exit. “Kyun!” He hears Jooheon call for him. “Where are you going? Did you talk to y/n?” Jooheon asks once he reached him.

“Yeah,” He answered somberly. “You were wrong Joo; it was a mistake coming here.” He watched his friend’s expression fall. “I should go.” Jooheon watches Changkyun leave to hail a cab before going to find you.

Changkyun gets in the backseat of the cab with a sigh. He presses his head on the side of the window as he recalls your face. He squeezed his eyes as your pained expression lingers in his head. He can’t ever do anything right. Why did he think it was going to be a good idea? You weren’t living in a fairytale. There is no happy ending. He ruined any chances of that a long time ago. It was naïve to believe there was any hope. He didn't deserve it; he didn't deserve you. Changkyun sinks himself further into the seat as he reminisces about the simpler days.

───────── ☾ • ☽ ──────────

“Pwetty pwease.” You begged executing the most puppy dog of eyes you could. Changkyun watched your expression in amusement, half wanting to make fun of you and the other half wanting to give in. “It’ll be fun, I promise!” You bargained with an empty promise.

It didn’t fool him at all. “What will I get if it’s no fun though?”

“Whatever you want!” You exclaimed desperate to get Changkyun to play pretend with you. Your answer made Changkyun smile and finally accept your request. He always puts up a fight whenever you asked him to play pretend, but he always ends up agreeing. “Yay! Okay let’s play a wedding game!”

Changkyun nearly choked on air at your suggestion. “What? Why would we play something like that?!”

It was your turn to be amused. “Why not? You’re not scared of cooties, are you?”

“Cooties are for babies.” He rolls his eyes.

“Great, let’s get ready for our wedding then.” You say before running off to grab your props. Changkyun stands there stunned and flushed. He already regrets agreeing to play pretend with you. He watched as you pull your grandmother towards Changkyun’s direction. “She will be the person that says the things. I don’t know what they’re called.”

“A wedding officiant.” Your grandmother advised you, but you didn’t care as you ran back into the house. “Are you excited to marry my granddaughter, Kyun?” Changkyun groans in embarrassment at your grandmother’s teasing.

“Chansoo! Just do it, for once.” You pulled Chansoo into the backyard with you. If Changkyun was embarrassed by your grandmother being a witness to this play pretend, he wanted to die now that Chansoo is involved.

Chansoo sees Changkyun’s expression and smirks. “It would be my pleasure to walk you down the aisle, y/n.” Yeah, he is never going to hear the end of this.

Your grandmother announces the bride’s arrival. Changkyun watches you walk with Chansoo towards him. Despite him dreading this, he found himself giving you a shy smile when you beamed at him. The “wedding” itself was boring in his opinion. Your grandmother was talking about how weddings work, and he didn’t really pay attention to that. Why would he anyway? “Now for the vows,”

‘Vows? What are vows?’ Changkyun thought. Luckily you decided to go first taking the lead as usual. “I promise that you will always be my number one person and that you can always count on me!” You promised to Changkyun making him smile.

You and your grandmother look at Changkyun for his turn. “Do I make a promise now?” You nod your head excitedly. “I promise that I will be your protector from anything and that you can always count on me too.”

“You can’t copy my promise, Kyun!” You pouted.

“I don’t know what else to promise.” Changkyun shrugs.

“That’s fine, Changkyun. I, now, pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” Your grandmother continues with the ceremony.

Changkyun refuses with indignation making you roll your eyes. “I knew it, you’re scared of cooties.”

“I am not!” He shouts.

“Then kiss me!” You were only teasing him. It was fun to make the stoic “mature” boy flustered. He began to sputter excuses making you laugh. “Fine, fine. Let’s just pinky promise to seal our promises.” Changkyun agrees and you lock pinkies. You close your eyes and smile. “I promise our friendship will never go extinct like the dinosaurs!”

Changkyun smiles at that and closes his eyes in turn. “I promise I’ll never leave your side.” That was the first promise you had made to each other, and you both intended to keep your promises. But that’s not how life goes, and promises are made to be broken.

━━━☆

“Stop staring at your girlfriend and concentrate!” His club mate scolded him since he was watching you walk away from dropping him off his clubroom.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” He grumbles in discontent but looks away, so he doesn’t get in trouble.

She rolls her eyes and smirks. “Yeah right, none of my friends would drop me off every single day at my club whether they’re a girl or boy. If you two aren’t together, you must like each other.”

“You must have shitty friends then.” Changkyun retorts earning a shove from her. He was used to this banter. Ever since you two were in kindergarten, your friends would find it weird how close the two of you were. Both of your families found it endearing so you never really cared. Chansoo gives Changkyun a hard time every now and then by teasing him about you and your “marriage”, but it never really phased him. If anything, the only reason why it annoyed Changkyun was he didn’t understand why there was a need to romanticise your relationship.

Because of your closeness, he knew you like the back of his hand. So, when you came into class the next morning sporting a plain band-aid on your knee, alarm bells went off in his head. You told him everything but instead of heading his way to tell him your “embarrassing” story of how you hurt yourself, you gave him a wave before sitting on your seat. “Trouble in paradise?” One of your classmates teased Changkyun making him roll his eyes.

You were unusually quiet for the rest of the day. Changkyun doesn’t know why he doesn’t just ask but he never had to before. You would always tell him anything and everything with no reservation. You were an open book, at least with him. Whatever was bothering you must have been something serious so he shouldn’t pry. You would tell him if you wanted him to know. That’s what he told himself but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t try to make you feel better. “What’s this for?” You asked Changkyun as he hands you an unopened orange juice box after you drop him off to his club.

Changkyun’s heart felt lighter at your smile. “Compensation for dropping me off all the time.”

You laughed for the first time today. “No need, I’m more than happy to drop you off. It’s our time together after all.” That was the last thing you said before you stopped dropping him off at his club.

You gave him excuses upon excuses as to why you had to leave school as soon as possible but he saw right through it. He knew something was up when he ran into your grandmother on his way home dressed to the nines when she was supposed to be “bed-ridden with the cold” as you said. Changkyun had devised a plan to get you to spill your guts but that failed when you decided to lie once again but this time it was about your grades. You were failing Mathematics? He knows you average eighty-five at least. “You guys go ahead. I’ll wait for y/n.” Changkyun tells your friends as they reached the school gate. They didn’t even question it. They left him fake kissing each other before Eunkyung hit the back of their heads to knock it off. Changkyun chuckles and waits till they’re out of his vision before he retraces your steps.

He was rounding a corner when he saw your figure being crowded by a few familiar faces. He hid behind the wall out of instinct. “Didn’t your mother teach you some manners and say please?” He hears a girl crudely speak to you.

He was about to intervene when he heard your voice. “Didn’t yours?” It was the first time he ever heard you speak like that. As he continued to listen, he learns that they were giving you a hard time because of him. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. Is that why you didn’t tell him? Because he’s the reason why you’re going through hardship?

Changkyun hears footsteps fading away before he hears your voice. You were on the verge of tears and at moments like this, Changkyun was always there for you. He wants to be there for you, but he can’t. “Stop being pathetic, y/n. Changkyun can’t be there for you every single time.” He hears you scold yourself. “Grow up.” You said to yourself bitterly. You were right and you both knew it. So, Changkyun didn’t help you for the very first time in your friendship.

Changkyun noticed you wore your old school shoes the next day. He didn’t see what happened yesterday, but he assumed it had something to do with that. You had been wearing it for a week without any complaint. Whenever anyone brought it up you brushed it off with a lie. “Hey, Eunkyung.” Changkyun greets your mutual friend. “Give this to y/n, say it was yours.” He hands her second-hand school shoes. It was used but it was still in good condition.

Eunkyung looks at him confused. “First of all, where did you get this? And second, you give it to her.”

“I bought it from the shop, and she’ll find it weird if I give her girl shoes.” Changkyun shrugs.

Eunkyung looks at him with a smirk. “And they say romance is dead. Did you spend your allowance on these just because she’s been wearing her old shoes?” Changkyun mumbles a ‘yes’ avoiding her eyes. “It’s not that romantic if she thinks it’s from me. She won’t fall in love with you if she doesn’t know about the things you do for her.”

“Shut up and give it to her.” That made Eunkyung laugh and accept his request.

It was eating him alive watching you go through this. He didn’t know whether what he was doing was right or wrong. It started getting worse. Changkyun walked into school to see you sitting in front of an old desk filled with graffiti. You didn’t even look at him. Do you hate him now? Are you blaming him for this? Your eyes never left the front of the classroom for the entire morning. After the first period ended, he chased after your homeroom teacher in the hallway. “I need a new desk.” He pants as he enters the teacher’s lounge.

“Hello to you too, Changkyun.” Your homeroom teacher greets him. “There’s nothing wrong with your desk. Y/n’s desk on the other hand.”

“Are you going to fix it?” Changkyun cuts him off by stepping in front of him.

He looks at him with a smile. “Of course, I’ll have it fixed by lunch.”

“If you’re busy I can look for one.”

Mr. Lee raises his hand to stop his student. “It’s okay, I’ll take care of it. If this happens again though, I’d have to get y/n’s parents involved.” Mr. Lee watches Changkyun scrunch his face in confusion making him chuckle. “If y/n is getting bullied then her parents should know so we can take the necessary steps.”

“And what would that be?”

“Well, it depends on the parents. They might want to confront the kids and if so, they might get suspended but that could make matters worse, or they might want to transfer schools.” Changkyun’s stomach dropped. At his expression, Mr. Lee reassures. “Don’t worry, I’m sure everything will be okay. Y/n’s a good kid.” Changkyun nods agreeing before bidding him goodbye.

Like Mr. Lee had promised, your desk had been replaced. Changkyun watches your face relax for the first time that day. He didn’t know what to do. Should he step forward and admit that you were getting bullied and risk the chance of you moving away or does he continue what he’s doing and try as best as he can to minimise the damage? He sighs resting his head on his desk.

Changkyun decides to be your guardian angel as best as he can. He was the one that placed your gym shoes back after they had been stolen and hung up to mock you. He started sneaking in extra snacks once he noticed your lunch was getting stolen. It was all worth it if it meant that he made your days a little less crappy. He still questioned everyday if he should confront you or go behind your back and put an end to it, but he didn’t want to upset you any further. He contemplates what he should do usually at the break of dawn as he walks to school. The streets were quiet. He had overheard your bullies talk about doing something to your desk after school, so he decided to go to school early to assess the damage. He ate a granola bar on the way not wanting to have breakfast at home and wake his parents up. He entered the classroom and head straight towards your desk. It was stained with juice. He sighed before making his way to the janitor’s closet. He started scrubbing the desk as best as he could. If all else fails, then he’ll swap your desk with his and clean it throughout the day. This went on for a week or two before you caught him. He had woken up later than he was supposed to, so he was frantically trying to get everything cleaned when you came in. You ran into his arms and broke into tears. That’s when he knew he had made the wrong decision. He shouldn’t have kept his mouth shut. He shouldn’t have been satisfied with helping you in the background. He shouldn’t have been selfish or a coward. He’ll take care of you as he promised.

“Hyung, I need your help.” Changkyun begs as he enters his brother’s room.

Chansoo was laying on his bed tossing a football up in the air when he came in. “What do you want?”

“Y/n’s being bullied, and I don’t know how to deal with them.”

Chansoo sits up properly taking the subject seriously. “And why are you asking me of all people?”

“Well, you’re my biggest bully so who’s better to deal with a bully than someone who is one themselves.” Changkyun retorts sarcastically.

His answer doesn’t please his brother as he goes back to lie down again. “Alright, you’re on your own.”

“I’ll do whatever you want.” Changkyun negotiates.

Chansoo raises an eyebrow interested. “Really? Even join the football team with me?” Changkyun groans. He’s hated football since he was young when Chansoo constantly threw the ball at his face. It was also unnecessarily tiring. Why would anyone enjoy something that drains them? He doesn’t like sports; he hates any form of exercise, and he wouldn’t ever be caught dead engaging in any form whatsoever, but this was you they were talking about.

“Fine,” Chansoo beams. “What are you going to do?”

Chansoo gets up and ruffles his little brother’s hair. “Don’t you worry your dumb little head bro. Just worry about getting the girl.”

━━━☆

“Ayo, I’m Joohoney onehunnid.” The new kid introduces himself, making the entire class laugh. Changkyun smirks amused while your face scrunches up in annoyance. “I’m kidding, I’m Jooheon. Nice to meet you.” He goes to his seat greeting his fellow classmates with confidence.

As he passes the two of you, he meets your gaze and salutes you. You scoff finding him obnoxious. “I already hate him.” You whisper to Changkyun.

“He seems fun. Do you hate fun, y/n?” Changkyun teases.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m friends with you.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

Jooheon became a hit in your year. Whether or not you like him, you knew him – was a common line whenever Jooheon was brought up and it was true. Most of the girls shared the same opinion as you and steered clear of him but the boys loved him. They found him funny and cool. Unfortunately for you, Changkyun was one of those people. As time went on, Jooheon had become the closest person to him – excluding you, of course. It was nice for him to finally have a close male friend that wasn’t older than him or related to him. However, due to their closeness, Jooheon was constantly in his ears about you.

“Yo, tell your girlfriend to stop glaring at me whenever I open my mouth.” Jooheon nudges Changkyun as they look your way. Sure enough, you were glaring at him, but your eyes softened when they shifted to Changkyun.

“Don’t say something that’ll make her glare at you then.” Changkyun chuckles giving you a dimpled smile. “And I already told you, she’s not girlfriend.”

Jooheon looks at Changkyun like he had just told him his cat died. “Bro, when I say ‘hi’ she just gives me that look.” Changkyun chuckles knowing it’s true. “And I guess she’s more like your crush then since you two aren’t officially together – you guys might as well be though.”

He has heard this so many times, if he had a penny for every single time he heard it, he would be rich. But when there’s smoke there must be fire, right? He’s not oblivious. He noticed that you two are closer than normal friends. He knows that you both would go the extra mile for each other and treat the other like no other. But you've known each other since you were little and at this point you are like family to each other and that explains your closeness. That’s what you always told people so what would compel Changkyun to entertain the idea, in the first place? Changkyun never really thought about you in any other way. He understands where everyone is coming from; he can see where they’re coming from.

Even when he did try to test the waters to see what it would be like; you wouldn’t give him anything to go by or he couldn’t bring himself to see you that way. You simply brushed it off like it was nothing because to you it was. Changkyun watches as you don’t even bat an eye at his “confession”. He thinks he could like like you, but you wave it off as nothing clearly shows you don’t entertain the idea. You’re unwavering when he looks you in the eyes and tells you, you're the prettiest girl in the world knowing he genuinely means it, clearly shows that you don’t hold meaning to his words. You being able to look him in the eye and tease him for it clearly shows that to you, it’s not even a possibility. He was fine with that; again, he didn’t see why he had to think of you any other way.

━━━☆

He swears he never thought about you that way. He always thought of the world of you; you were a delicate flower growing despite the harsh environments surrounding it. He admired your strength and heart. That was all it was. He swears as he watches you in your peaceful slumber. Your head on his shoulder causing your hair to fall over your face. He lightly brushes it away and you twitch in your sleep. He pauses, his hand hovering over your cheek. You hum and nestle your cheek against his hand prompting them open. A small smile plays on your lips as if you know his touch even in your sleep. He swears he never thought about you that way. But how can he not think about the way you searched for his touch? How can he not think about the way your hand squeezed his searching for his presence? How can he not think about the happiness evident on your face once you find him? How can he stop thinking about you that way once he started? Every single smile, every single touch, every single look was no longer the same for him.

You were the same. The same unwavering spirit he always admired. You looked, smiled, and treated him the same. It was only different for him. He swears he’s okay with that. If you are in his life, as long as he’s in your presence, he’s happy. He’s happy he gets to hear your thoughts, he’s satisfied to hear you laugh at his jokes, he’s complete if he gets to be there for you when you need him. He swears he’s okay with it. Ignoring the ominous feeling in the back of his mind when he saw you kept Hoseok a secret. Ignoring the way his stomach dropped when you finally told him you liked Hoseok. The feeling he had when you liked Jooheon resurfaced but this time he understood why.

“It’s scary liking someone, you know?” You asked rhetorically, Changkyun knew that. He knows you didn’t think he would be capable of knowing. But he does. He knows all too well. The despair of watching someone you like fawn over someone else. The helplessness you feel when the person doesn’t seem to catch the hints you’re giving. The ugliness brewing inside you in jealousy and contempt. He tries to feign disinterest as much as he can.

But sometimes, it was hard to not let jealousy rear its ugly head; especially when he sees you and Hoseok talking dangerously close about a presumptuous topic that could lead to it. He hated himself for it. The look on your face was enough for him to want to run the other way to give you your privacy back. He didn’t like that side of himself. That’s why he stupidly does nothing after you told him you were going to confess your feelings. What could he do? He couldn’t be selfish with you; he had no right. That’s what he told himself. That’s what he promised himself.

All of his resolve went out the window upon seeing your heartbreak. It was like looking at himself in the mirror. He just wanted to take the pain away for the both of you. He had played it safe for all his life and, for once, he took the risk. He leans forward and meets your lips. It was a rollercoaster of emotions. Anger washed through him as he felt your tears fall against his cheeks. He wanted to pull away, realising he had made a terrible mistake. This was not the right time. As he thinks to move away, your hands reach for his collar grasping it tightly as you kiss him back. His heart soared at the feeling of your kiss. His mind filtering through millions of questions at what this could mean for the two of you. His words left him before he could stop and think about the repercussions of what he was saying. “A kiss may just be a kiss, y/n. But your first should be special; it should be with someone who loves you and cares about you. It shouldn’t just be some guy. If it has to be anyone, it should be me.” He finally lets his selfishness get the better of him as he confesses his feelings to you.

━━━☆

He was a fool. The kiss meant nothing. It changed nothing. When you finally parted, you ran off excusing it as “student council duties”. You avoided him for a couple of days, making him regret his greediness. He had ruined your friendship for a moment of what if. Eventually, you couldn’t avoid each other, and it was awkward. You were visibly uncomfortable, and it broke his heart. So, he pretended it was nothing. He forced a joke and you laughed; genuinely laughed. He watches your face brighten and your shoulders relax. That was the day he accepted his fate. If he had known there was no possibility of you two happening, he wouldn’t have kissed you. If this was all he could be for you; a best friend, a jokester, a confidant, a supporter; then that’s all he will be.

Changkyun had to find a new strength, he didn’t know he had. The love he has for you to be pushed to the back of his mind; replaced with being the best friend you deserved. He ignores the flutters in his stomach as you smile up at him. He distances himself when the thoughts of you suffocate him, which was often since you were always on his mind. Everything about you consumed all of his senses. The way you light up every room you walked into. The way you softly say his name to catch his attention. The way you touch him; light as a feather as if you didn't want to leave a mark on him. But it did. It left trails of sparks from where you had touch him. So much so, he insists that he can feel the ghost of your touch just by looking at it. Every day was a battle to not cross the line again; to not answer his what ifs; to not risk losing you. The days felt long but once they passed, they blurred into one.

It was your senior year, the final chapter of high school. Changkyun helped you run for president; not that he needed to. You won by a landslide. You had cemented the position even before you started your campaign. Gaining respect, admiration, and popularity throughout the years as treasurer. “What do you think of an ‘under the sea’ theme?” Changkyun scrunches his face causing you to laugh. “Yeah, I thought so too.” You sigh running your hand through your hair. Changkyun watches you unwillingly. A wave of adoration floods through him as he takes in the way your hair fell perfectly to frame your face. How can you look so beautiful even when you're visibly tired? It wasn't fair on anyone.

“Shouldn't the social committee be doing this?” Changkyun points out as he rocks your desk chair back and forth.

“The student council needs to approve it. I'm just going through their ideas.” You show the papers in your hand. You were sitting cross-legged on your bed with a sea of paperwork surrounding you.

“The more important question is, who’s going to be your date for the dance?” Jooheon asks walking into to your room after helping himself to your homemade chocolate chips cookies.

Your attention was back to the paperwork in front of you. “Changkyun and I are obviously going together.” You answer offhandedly.

Changkyun’s emotion betrays him as a look of shock flashes through his normally stoic façade. Jooheon takes notice and chuckles, “Does Changkyun know about that?” You raise your head to look across the room at Changkyun.

Your eyes innocent as you analyse his expression. Embarrassment washed over you as you realise your brazenness. “I'm sorry, I don't know why I just assumed that.” You tuck the loose hair behind your ear. “You must have wanted to ask someone else. Don't worry about what I said.”

Changkyun gets up and takes a cookie from Jooheon’s hand. “Hey!”

He walks up to you and offers you the cookie. “There's no one else I would think about but you.” He looks down at you analysing your expression. The sheepish smile on your face as you take the cookie. Did his words get through to you? Is the idea of going together to a dance mean anything more to you? Or is it just second nature to you? A logical assumption based on previous statistics.

━━━☆

Changkyun shifts from one foot to another. He has been to your house more times than he can count. It was a second home to him. But as he stood by the front door in a suit he’s never worn before, he felt like a stranger. You shared everything with him but in the weeks leading up to the dance, you kept him in the dark. He thought you would take him dress shopping like you normally do but you went with your girl friends instead. Only telling him what coloured dress you got so he could match if he wanted. “Time has flown by so fast.” Your grandmother sighs dreamily. “I still remember when you two were just this tall.” She holds her hand out by her hip. “I still remember the two of hating each other.” Changkyun and your grandmother chuckles fondly at the memory. “But now, you’re thick as thieves; partners in crime.” That was the perfect description of yours and his relationship. Two sides of the same coin. Each other’s confidant and right-hand man. Not the love interest; not even star-crossed lovers. The sound of heels clicking on the hardwood floors cuts his conversation short. You appear at your grandmother’s line of vision first. Her gasp causing Changkyun’s heart to race. She places her hand over her heart and her eyes glossing over with happiness. He clasps his hand in front of himself to ground himself. Your grandmother starts recording through her camcorder when you finally appear in Changkyun’s site.

He inhales sharply like he had the wind knocked out of him. You smile down at him softly. Your eyes bright and sparkling complimented by the makeup you put on. Your hair parted on one side; perfectly framed and flowing. One hand uses the handrail to descend the steps gracefully and the other lifting the front of the dress enough for your matching heels to peek through. You reach him letting go off your dress. “What do you think?” You ask giving him a slow twirl. Changkyun feels his knees buckle. His mind imagining the beautiful midnight blue dress into white. You look at him expectantly; none the wiser of what he truly thinks of you.

“Beautiful,” He breathes. He hears your grandmother chuckle causing his ears to turn red. “You look beautiful.”

You smile widens. “I think you look beautiful too.” It was his turn to chuckle. He rolls his eyes making you reach out and give him a light shove. “I mean it.”

“Let's take a photo before you two head out.” Your grandmother breaks the silence. You move naturally to Changkyun’s side. He instinctively placed a light hand on your back. “Okay, you two, big smiles!” You grinned from ear to ear while he offered a small smile. The flash goes off and your smile relaxes. “One more! Be closer, you guys aren't strangers.” You wrapped your arms around Changkyun waist. His arm around you moved to your shoulder wrapping you in a hug. You nuzzle your head into your chest which breaks his cool nature. His smile growing wider as your giddiness rubs off on him. Feeling his happiness, you look up at him. He takes notices and looks back at you. He sees affection in your eyes. Changkyun won't fool himself to think it’s love in your eyes. You look up at him sentimentally; of adoration; reminiscent of who the kid he used to be. A flash breaks Changkyun out of his thoughts. “Beautiful!” Your grandmother commented looking at the photo. “You two should go or you'll be late.” At her reminder, you pick up your dress and give her a hug. Your already at the door when Changkyun gives her a hug before leaving as well. “Enjoy yourselves, okay?”

He smiles. “I'll get her home safe.” Changkyun opens the door for you and offers his hand to help you out. You take it naturally waving goodbye to your grandmother as he ignores the warmth flooding through him from your touch. He opens the car door for you and helps you in before getting in the driver's seat. “You excited?” He asks turning on the engine.

You hum patting your dress down. You think you look ridiculous. Your dress too big and flashy for a student council president. But your grandmother insisted – this would be your last dance in high school after all. “Yeah, I am. I can't wait to see everyone’s reaction to the auditorium.” He chuckles. Of course, you weren't thinking about yourself. “What about you?”

He ponders for a second before shrugging. “This isn't really my type of thing. But if you're happy, I'm happy.” You smile and reach for his hand to hold. Changkyun’s smile falters as he lifts his hand to grip the steering wheel. He stops himself from looking at you when he sees you keep your hand to yourself and visibly shift away. He clenches his jaw knowing he hurt you. But the alternative hurts too much. He's constantly stuck between a rock and a hard place. If he loses himself in you, it only serves as a painful reminder of what he could never have. If he pulls away and sets a clear line between you, he sees your heart breaking. Your happiness is his happiness. Your pain is his pain. There's no winning. The drive to school was in silence; only the songs on the radio occupying the space. Changkyun gets out of the car and opens the door for you. He offers his hand to help you out, but you don't take it. You give him a tight-lipped smile and avoid his eyes. That's fair. You used the car door to step out.

Once your feet touch the ground, committee members rush to you. “Pres, there's an issue with the audio.” Your smile drops from the bad news.

“You look amazing, by the way!” Another member offers before hurrying you.

You pick up your dress about to leave when you remember Changkyun. “I’m sorry!” He waves you off with a smile. “I’ll see you in there!” Once the gym doors shut, Changkyun sighs. It's going to be a long night; he thinks as he rests his head against his car.

As he was about to get out of his car after parking it in the parking lot, his phone rings. He stops and stares at the unfamiliar number on his screen. “Hello?” He answers hesitantly.

━━━☆

“There you are!” Changkyun flinches at Jooheon showing up at his side out of nowhere. “We’ve been wondering where you are.” He taps on the car window, but Changkyun gets out instead. “We thought you decided you were too cool for this and bailed.”

“We?”

“Y/n,” Changkyun nods numbly as he realises the sun has set. He didn't realise how long it had been since he took that call; too many things he needed to think about to care. “You, okay?” Jooheon grips his shoulder to snap him out of it.

“Yeah,” Changkyun answers dazedly. Jooheon can clearly see he was lying but he knew better than to push. Changkyun is never the type to succumb to peer pressure and will only revert further in his shell when pushed. The two walk back to the auditorium in silence.

As they neared, music thumped against the walls. The dance was informal – the door was open, and some students were outside the building having their own private conversations. Jooheon leaves Changkyun’s side the second they enter the room. Changkyun didn’t mind and made his way to the food and beverage table. He helped himself as he contemplated the offer – as if he hadn’t been doing that the past couple of hours. He feels hands on his waist before he hears your honeyed voice. “There you are!” Changkyun had a sense of déjà vu as he turned around to your playful grin. Your cheeks were flushed, and your hair was messier than when he last saw you. He was relieved his disappearance didn’t ruin your night. But the ugly side of him was disheartened at the same time. “Where were you?”

“My dad called.” He lied knowing you knew his dad was overseas and couldn’t reach out often. You believed him easily. “How much did I miss?”

“Not much, we’ve just been dancing. You came just in time, they’re about to announce the homecoming royals.” Changkyun groans as you take his hand and lead him towards the crowded dance floor. The music soon cuts off as the social committee president appears on the little makeshift stage. Changkyun doesn’t listen to the president harp on until he hears your name. A spotlight shines on your figure effectively casting him in your shadow. He watches your figure as you make your way to the stage. Your beautiful gown sparkling under the light; your smile outshining everything else. His jaw clenches when he sees Rowoon offers his hand; a sash and crown adorned on him. You take it graciously and stand on stage for the social committee members to place a tiara on your head and a bouquet of flowers in your arms.

The host asks Rowoon to say a few words before you. As he steps up to the microphone, squeals echo through the room. “I am so touched you all voted for me; it’s a big honour. I usually wouldn’t be able to accept this but with the very own Council President by my side, I feel relieved.” Changkyun rolls his eyes at the corniness. The two shared a smile before he continued. Were the two of you close? When did that happen?

“Be careful,” Jooheon warns out of nowhere causing Changkyun to flinch. “Don’t let his fans see your distaste.”

“When did they get so close?” Changkyun asks as you make your own speech mentioning Rowoon as well.

“Hm, I don’t know. I guess through her student council duties and since he’s the president of the theater club they talk through there.” Jooheon shrugs. Of course, he wouldn’t pay attention to such details. “I’ve seen them together sometimes; having lunch, running errands, walking around. You were off somewhere else every time, so I didn’t get to ask you about it.” Oh. That’s right. Changkyun realises the true weight of the distance he placed between you two. Since he is no longer by your side twenty-four-seven, he misses out on things about you; trivial or not.

The crowd parts to make a circle in the middle of the dance floor. He watches you hand-in-hand with Rowoon as he takes you out on the dance floor. He sees you whispering to each other with coy smiles on your face as you face each other. “I hate to admit it, they look good together.” Changkyun hears a girl comment behind him.

“What do you expect? They’re both good-looking, popular, and cheerful people.” Her friend agrees bitterly. Changkyun watches you dance around the room like he was in a trance. All he could see was your smile lighting up the entire room but he’s still in darkness. All he could hear was yours and everyone’s laughing at a joke he didn’t hear about. He is the one that placed the wall between you. He cannot be angry or upset if you’re no longer standing on the other side of it. This was what he wanted after all.

━━━☆

The boys watched you key a song in when a classmate approached you. Everyone knew Soonyoung as he is a close friend of Jooheon. The boys watch you laugh at what the boy was saying. “She’s changed a lot.” Hyungwon says turning his attention back to his cold fries.

“Yeah, she has.” Changkyun says with a melancholic smile.

Everyone at the table noticed Changkyun’s mood. He has always been quiet and standoffish, but this was different. They could see the longing in his eyes whenever he looked at you. He always looked at you softly and affectionately but this time there was sadness in it too. “What’s going on Changkyun?” Hoseok asked the question everyone was thinking.

“I’m going to the U.S. for university.” The air in the room shifted, at least only to the guys at the table.

“Well, congratulations!” Kihyun offers. They’re happy for him of course but it is a shock. Their first thought automatically goes to you. They would never expect Changkyun to move overseas especially since it’s been established that you’re staying in Seoul.

“When did this happen?” Jooheon asks trying to piece together Changkyun’s train of thought.

“During the formal, I got a call – an offer to study in the U.S. from my dad. I had a lot of time to think about it and I’ve decided to go.”

After knowing he has thought it through, Hyunwoo breaks into a smile. “Well, that’s awesome.” He pats him in the back. “It will be a cool adventure.”

“And challenge.” Minhyuk points out getting a kick in the shin from Hoseok from under the table. “Ow!” He jumps. “What? It is?”

“Y/n’s always said she wanted to visit New York. Now she has a good excuse to.” Hyungwon offers to lighten up the mood.

“Y/n doesn’t know.” He answers their unspoken question. “I don’t want her to know.” He says with conviction. The air heavies as conflict and worry looms over the table.

“Changkyun –” Jooheon starts to argue but you walk over. Everyone stiffens at your presence.

Your smile only darkens their thoughts further. “Come on, let’s dance.” You take Changkyun’s hand without any answer and lead him to the dance floor. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he allows you to use his hands to wave around. “I regret not letting go like this with you at our formal.” You giggled and he could offer a nod in response. As the song ends, a slow piano begins to play. The melody light but the mood is more romantic. Everyone slows their pace and pairs up. You look up at him bashfully. How could you still be shy with him even after thirteen years? He offers his hand, and you take it as the singer starts to sing.

Time after time, I tell myself that I'm so lucky to be loving you.

“I regret not dancing with you at our formal.” You confessed. His heart ached at the missed opportunity. His ugly side getting the better of him once again as he left not be able to withstand watching you dance with someone else. But that night, he accepted his feelings. He could no longer ignore the fact that he was not a person deserving to be by your side. That night, he accepted the reality. No more false pretenses. He could no longer be in your life.

I only know what I know. The passing years will show, you've kept my love so young; so new.

━━━☆

“I’m sorry, Kyun.” He hears Hoseok’s sadness on the other line. “I couldn’t not tell her. She loves you more than anyone in the world.” He wanted to scoff. He wanted to deny it and argue but the words didn’t come out. Changkyun tells him it’s okay even though they both know it wasn’t. “Have a safe flight, keep in touch.” Changkyun bids him goodbye as he hears his name being shouted from across the room.

He turns and sees your angry expression first. He hated how beautiful he thought you looked even in your disheveled state. He hated how endearing he found you in your fluffy heart pajamas. As you make your way towards him, he sensed his impending doom. You pushed him with all your might, and he lets you. “You idiot!” You screamed with tears building. Changkyun doesn’t care about the stares. All he could think about is you. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His heart ached. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to go through with it. “Why did you act like nothing was happening?” If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be able to hold back anymore. “Why did you make me think you were only going to be a couple of hours away?” If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be okay. “Why?” Your last cry shot straight through his heart.

He grabbed your arms, and your tears fell as if you were waiting for your anchor to let go. He’s known you all his life. He always had the idea that he had to take care of you; that he couldn’t leave you on your own, that you needed him. But that wasn’t true. You are just fine without him. He was the one that needed you, but he knows he shouldn’t. He is the one that couldn’t be without you, but he knows that he has to. “I’m sorry.” Is all he could give you without weakening his already broken resolve. Overwhelmed with emotions, you kissed him. It was your last plead. He wished he pulled you closer, searing the memory of you into his mind. But he didn’t and your memory faded.

───────── ☾ • ☽ ──────────

It had been a week since you last saw Changkyun. It had been a week since you last spoke to anyone. It had been a week since you left your bed. You gave up rejecting calls from Jooheon; opting to let your phone die. You locked yourself in your room; ignoring Minhyuk and Hyungwon even when they came to visit you. Only ever leaving your room when you hear the door shut after Jaebum tells you he’s leaving. You already felt awful, but you felt worse for ignoring everyone. But you knew what they would say, more like what they would ask. What happened with Changkyun? What does it mean? Has this changed anything? You don’t have answers to their questions and the ones you do have, you weren’t ready to share. Your head turns towards the stack of paper by your bedside. The ink faded through time, the paper crinkled through the handling, blotches of tears stained across the letters. You have read his letters over and over since he gave them to you. It was all too much to get your head around. What were supposed to do with this new information? What did you want to do with it?

Your head turns towards your door, and you hear your knob rattle. A shadow cast against the crack beneath the door. Their whispers muffled as they argued with each other. It must be Minhyuk and Hyungwon again. You sigh and turn over, bringing your blanket to cover you. They will leave soon. That’s what you thought when you suddenly heard your door bust open. “It worked!” Minhyuk’s cheery voice boomed through your quiet room. You cringe not wanting to face them. “It smells!” You roll your eyes at Minhyuk’s teasing.

“Then, get out.” You retort flatly.

“She’s alive.” Hyungwon says calmly with a hint of sarcasm. You feel your bed dip behind you. “How long are you going to be like this for?”

“Hyungwon, she deserves to feel the way she does.” You hear Kihyun’s voice in front of you before you see light from your window shine through your blanket. Of course, he would open your blinds.

“Yes, of course but maybe she should at least move on to the next stage of dealing with it.” Hyunwoo’s deep and logical voice reasons by your feet.

Your curiosity gets the better of you and you peak your head outside your blanket. “Jesus, how many of you are in my room?” You see five pairs of eyes already looking at you. Kihyun was leaning on your desk which was against the window of your room. Hyunwoo was at the foot of your bed with his arms crossed and Jooheon stood next to him with bags under his eyes. Your heart tugs at the sight. Were you the cause for that? Hyungwon was lying on top of your blankets while Minhyuk stands next to him by your bedside drawer. You shot up and reached for the letters opened for anyone to see. Minhyuk had surely seen some of it, but you still held the letters close to your chest. Tears pricked your eyes as you felt pathetic with their pitiful eyes looking down at you.

Jooheon gets on your bed and hugs your head. “It’s okay, you can cry. I’m here.” A tear falls from his comfort. You see the light go darker as Kihyun and Hyunwoo join the hug. “We’re here for you.” You thought you had already cried to last a lifetime, but the flood gates broke through like it was a dam. You feel their hug become heavier when Hyungwon and Minhyuk join. Your crying turns into sobbing as you feel their love and care. The guilt you felt only amplifying.

You cried for what felt like hours; wrapped up in Jooheon’s arms while Hyunwoo rubs your back and Kihyun hands you tissue to blow your nose. Hyungwon holds the bin for you to throw away your used tissues and Minhyuk offers comments to make you crack a smile. “I don’t know what to do.” You sigh sitting up. The boys give you their undivided attention prompting you to confide in them. You tell them what happened at the wedding and how seeing him and speaking to him felt like a shot in the heart. How the hurt you felt throughout the years hit you at once. “He loved me?” You cried exasperatedly. “All this time?” It wasn’t a shock that tears flooded back as you recounted the moment. The silence around you piques your attention. You wipe the tears away and see their body language change. Hyunwoo gave you a tight-lipped smile, Minhyuk avoided your eyes, and Jooheon was clenching his jaw. “What?” They share a look between themselves as if you couldn’t see it. You roll your eyes. “Just tell me.”

“Y/n, the only one who didn’t know he was in love with you was you.” Hyungwon carefully explained.

You tilt your head in confusion, so Kihyun adds. “Y/n, everyone saw the way he looked at you.”

“And everyone saw that you didn’t look at him the same way.” Minhyuk tells you the truth you asked for. “And that’s perfectly fine!” He adds to reassure you. “No one expects you to feel the same way or give him a chance; that’s your right to feel however you feel but…” Minhyuk looks over at the others for back up.

“But we also understood, how painful it would be on his end; to love someone wholeheartedly and never ask for anything in return.” Jooheon lands the final blow. The boys sit in silence as they watch you process this newfound information. Tears prickled your eyes in frustration. How could everyone know but not you? How come no one said anything? Well, that's not true. Everyone always assumed you two were a couple; that had to count for something. Upset by the what ifs flooding through your eyes, you squeezed your eyes and wipe your face. “I'm sorry, y/n. We should have told you.”

“No, it's not your fault. It's mine; I should have said something.”

“Well, Changkyun didn't say anything either.” Minhyuk assures you.

You give him a weak smile. He's right. You both were the only ones responsible for the hurt the other experienced. “So, what happens now?” Hyunwoo asked.

“I don't know.”

“What were you trying to achieve sending him those letters?” Kihyun frames the question differently hoping to unlock clarity in you.

You sigh. “I wanted closure; to move on. I didn't expect him to reply. I definitely didn't expect him to say he felt the same way.”

“So, what are you doing to do about it?” Hyungwon asks causing you to stifle a laugh.

“What is there to do? That was in the past; he had feelings for me. I am just grieving what could have been – which is useless I know, but I need to feel all of this.”

“What if it wasn't?” You furrow your brows at Jooheon’s question. “In the past, I mean.”

You finally let out a laugh. “How could he have feelings for me? We haven't seen or spoken in years.”

“You really don't understand how much he loves you.” You become irritated at their constant highlight of how much he feels for you and how ignorant you are of it.

You get up out of bed for the first time of the day feeling suffocated. “Of course, I don’t know! He chose not to tell me anything. He was the one that decided to leave without a word. I may have been a fool for not seeing what you all see but he was the one that also decided not to tell me. You all decided to not tell me.”

Jooheon gets up and rubs your arms to calm you down. “You're right, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it as a jab or anything. I just mean maybe you will know what to do if you talk to him; honestly and without holding anything back?”

━━━☆

Jooheon was right. The boys knew that. You knew that. But you were not in the right frame of mind to do the right thing. Of course not. That's why you're pumping your arms aimlessly as you lose yourself in the music and alcohol. The boys were against the idea but promised to support you in any way you needed. Of course. That's why they're standing aside watching you with barely any alcohol in their system. It was the first time you left your house, the first time you dressed up, the first time you smiled in a long time. It was a baseless happiness; temporary and shallow. But that's what you needed right now.

At least, that's what you thought. You weren't ready for a conversation; to face the music; to experience another heartbreak. So why are you standing in front of a door you haven’t stood in front of since senior year of high school? Of course, you kept in touch with his parents. Checking in on each other on birthdays and holidays via online messages and the annual call. You haven't been home since you left for college – your parents didn't care enough to have you visit and since your grandmother passed away there was no reason for you to. His parents invited you multiple times for the holidays and you always gave them an excuse; plans with your friends, interning for the summer – they were all true, but you could work in a visit if you really wanted. But how could you go and be reminded of the memories you shared with him and his family? How could sit at the table and talk to his parents without any underlying tension on what happened between you and his son? And you were sure they would tell you what he has been up to in America. Living the high life easily without you. Or worse, run the risk of seeing him after years of radio silence.

All of your worries and hesitations quashed thanks to the influence of the alcohol in your system. How many did you have to drink? The night was a blur. You were too determined to forget the night, you completely lost yourself. All you could remember is the burning of your throat as you force down the shots at the start of the night and the multiple incidents of throwing up on your way to his house. You remember flashes of you dancing despite the soreness in your arms and neck. Laughing and talking to people you can't even picture. Everything was going well. You were forgetting your troubles and dancing the night away. You were doing well to numb everything when a familiar tune starts playing. Your movement stops as nostalgia hits you. It was a song you were obsessed with at one point in time. It was the first song Changkyun had played through his window to drown out the fight your parents were having. It was the song you had danced with him more times you could count. Your thoughts drift back to the bar. The alcohol in your system wearing off from the flood of emotions. You were stumbling on your way to the bar when you looked back at the boys. It was only one second; a moment of distraction before their attention falls back on you; an opportunity to slip away. Despite your fogginess, you maneuver yourself to hide in the crowd as you make your way to the exit. You hurry to hail a cab before they can stop you.

It was a forty-five-minute drive. Forty-five minutes to change your mind. Forty-five minutes to regain clarity. The purging of the alcohol in your system helped you sober up quicker but by the fifth request to pullover, the driver didn’t want to take you any further. It was a fifteen-minute walk. By that point, you were completely sober. The alcohol flushed out of your system. The night breeze refreshing your sweaty skin. Your legs were on autopilot as you walked the streets you’ve walked for the most part of your life. The houses looked smaller than you remember, the street shorter. Fifteen minutes flew by and here you stood. All of the houses dark; the streets quiet given the time of night. What were you doing? Tears pricked your eyes as it finally sinks in. How could you bring yourself to confront him after all this time? You move to step back when the door rips open. Changkyun in the middle of putting his jacket on when he sees you. His hair sticking up in the same peculiar ways it used to when he wakes up from slumber. Like always, Changkyun shows up right in front of you right when you need him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice soft and broken as the tears slip down your face. Like always, he reaches for you. But this time, he stops himself. His hands hovering over your skin unsure and hesitating. “How could you have not known? How could I have not known?” Your question hurts the both of you; acknowledges the blame is on the both of you.

“I’m sorry,” Your tears stop at the sound of Changkyun’s voice breaking. In your years of knowing him, you had never seen him cry or lose his temper. The unwavering land to your swirling ocean. For the first time, you see distress on his face. You notice the eye bags under his eyes. His unkempt hair sticking out not like he was rolling around in his bed but from pulling it with his fingers. “I wish I did things differently. I wish I did everything differently.” He doesn’t answer your question; he doesn’t need to. The questions you both had for each other were answered in your own respective letters. You were both young, naïve, and insecure. You both placed each other on pedestals; believing one didn’t deserve the other. You both convinced yourself it was one-sided instead of confirming the truth for the fear of permanently losing the other. You both knew if the feeling wasn’t reciprocated, you would have to let them go and move on with your life without them in your heart.

“What would you do now?” Fear seeps into your heart as you asked the question you didn’t have the courage to ask when you were younger.

“Y/n,” He says softly.

He reaches out to touch you. Your stomach drops as you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. Of course, time changes things. Distance doesn’t let the heart grow fonder. His love for you was years ago. Before, he separated himself from you. Before, he met different people. Before, he became a completely new person that you didn't know anything about. Everyone else had moved on. Hoseok got married. Jooheon has a growing social circle. Changkyun is not the same boy you knew. You were the only fool living in the past. You pull away from his touch like he burned you. “No, it’s okay. That’s a stupid question. Forget it. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m here.”

You turn to leave; to run away but Changkyun spins you around. He cages you in between his arms. His warmth enveloping you. His touch littering goosebumps across your exposed skin. You look up wide-eyed into his sharp eyes. “Even without loving you, you are and will always be my greatest love, y/n.” Your bottom lip quivers overwhelmed with the rush of emotions you’re going through. He takes the hand on his chest and rubs his thumb across your palm; a habit he used to do to soothe you. “I could never lose the love I have for you in my heart. Believe me, I tried. I thought time apart from you would help me move on and forget about you. But there was not a single day where my feelings for you weakened.” You blink to let your tears fall so you can see him clearly; take all of him in. It has been too long since you’ve gone without seeing his face; hearing his voice; feeling his touch. “When I got your letters; when I read how you felt about me, I foolishly thought I might have a chance to right my wrongs. I thought there was a possibility for us to be together. If you tell me, you’re willing to give us a chance despite the hurt I caused you; I would take it in a heartbeat.”

When you wrote the letters to Changkyun, you did it to move on with your life; to close that chapter of your life. Not once did you ever consider that he felt the same way – that he still feels the same way. When you showed up to his door, you hadn’t thought about what you wanted to get out of it. You wanted to yell at him and tell him just how much he hurt you again. You wanted to cry into his arms and beg for answers you already knew the answer to. Your intentions weren’t to love and be loved. Not once did you consider reconciliation – much less a relationship. But maybe things between you two were meant to fall apart in order for the pieces to fall exactly where they needed to be. “Promise me something.”

“Anything and everything.”

“Promise me, you won’t hold anything back this time.”

“I promise.” Changkyun kisses your knuckle endearingly. Your heart starts beating hard in your chest you could feel it vibrating your entire body.

“Promise me, we’ll make up for the lost time.”

“I promise. We’ll take it slow. We’ll start fresh.” He kisses your tear-stained cheek making you smile.

“Promise me, you won’t break my heart again.”

“I promise.” It was your turn to initiate a kiss. You lean forward brushing noses before you meet his lips. He reciprocates your kisses slowly and gently. His hands cup your cheeks and your fingers run through his long dark hair. You felt like you were fifteen years old again. Standing by the bonfire and kissing your best friend for the first time. This is your second chance; a second beginning. This time you won’t run away. This time you will take a chance on love. This time you will love him without any reservation.

[a/n] the epilogue is finally out! only took fifty years - i'm sorry to anyone who anticipated this when the series first came out. i hope you enjoy the final instalment of this series. thank you for reading my work, i really appreciate it <3

꒰ m.list ➭ before ꒱

#monsta x fluff #changkyun fluff #monsta x #changkyun #changkyun angst #monsta x angst #i.m #i.m fluff #i.m angst #monsta x oneshot #changkyun oneshot #i.m oneshot #d.writes #x

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biffhofosho · 1 year ago

Text

Le Cirque du Fantasme | Part One

Fandom: Monsta X

Genre: Smut, natch

Word Count: 12.2k

Pairing: Jooheon/Changkyun/Minhyuk x OC

Synopsis: Step right up! Step right up! Come one, come all to a celebration of the macabre, the daring, the enticing, and the beautiful. Inside this tent is another world—one that will challenge your senses as much as your soul. Nowhere else on Earth can you experience such an awakening. Just take caution—once you are awake, you’ll find it hard to ever go back to sleep.

The Vibe: Third person (as always), fall fog, small town, lost and found, night circus, inhumans, the seen and the unseen (heh), everything fantastical and provoking, wonderstruck OC, questioning reality, copious amounts of worldbuilding leads to copious amounts of smut, foursome, suspension, light bondage/shibari-adjacent, temperature play like woah, sexual oneupsmanship lol, acrobatic sex yw

A/N: Literally the second the opening bars hit on “Daydream,” I knew I was going to write an October fic to it. Not only that, I knew exactly what it called for.

I had originally intended to publish multiple October fics, same as last year, but since I boned myself over with my earlier writing hiatus, the least I can do is give you a twoshot. This is my love song to my readers who love worldbuilding as much as I do. I didn’t try to rein in the muse this time, so hopefully you disappear into another reality entirely with me. Also—

Since it’s October, when we do get to the smut, I, um, went slightly more deviant than usual ahahaha. .-.

Cvr | 01 | 02 | 03

“Oh, no.”

Mariam is aware that, all things considered, she is under-reacting.

She is lost when there is no reason for her to be lost.

Only minutes ago, she was walking home from her late shift at the diner, and now she is wandering through fog as thick as stuffing and woods where there should be sidewalk. It’s nighttime, but it’s doubtful that even in daylight things would change. Even with the pale moon, she can neither see where she has come from nor where she is headed.

The fog has muffled every sound like a pair of noise-canceling headphones. She can hear only the crunch of dry leaves under her boots. And, yeah, it’s late, but where’s the traffic? She always passes a few cars on the road. She realizes that is exceptionally weird, but there’s nothing to do but move forward. Carmel isn’t very big; she’s bound to wander into one of the old cemeteries any moment, and then she’ll know she’s close to her apartment.

Still, the woods are a little concerning. Town might be tiny, but if she’s somehow wandered into the woods around Ninham Mountain, Mariam could be lost for hours. The state forest is huge and full of lakes, and she is definitely not on any sort of trail at the moment.

Slowly, her usual cavalier attitude wears thin. It’s getting cold. The chill of autumn bites at her through her flannel, and she withdraws her fingers into her sleeves before they can chap. The further she walks into the fog without a guidepost, the more nervous she gets.

“Idiot!” she curses at herself.

Suddenly, it dawns on Mariam to check her phone. She fishes it out of her bag to find she’s been walking for ten minutes, which is her usual walk home, but she can’t see a single building let alone a sidewalk. Foolish as it is, she decides to map her route, but something much more alarming happens.

No signal.

She cannot call. She cannot text. She cannot even access her GPS.

The little marker on the map has her floating in a blob of gray, which is ironic considering she is unmoored in a cottony swab of nothingness.

“Oh, no.”

This time, at least, Mariam is painfully aware that her reaction is right on point.

She keeps her phone in hand now in the hope of catching a wisp of signal. She doesn’t feel like she’s walking up hill—she doesn’t feel like she’s moving at all—but in the hopes that she is, maybe she’ll pick up the cell tower. Realistically, she can’t have gotten that lost in ten minutes.

Her ears perk. She hears something other than her own feet, and she stops to make sure she isn’t hallucinating it.

Nope, that’s music all right. It’s just really, really weird music. Like someone’s playing organ music, but it’s definitely not from the Baptist church. It’s too… whimsical?

Mariam cocks her head. It reminds her of something. She can’t remember what, but something from her childhood, she’s sure.

With no other options, she walks toward it. At least she’ll find one other human out here who can give her some directions.

She turns on her flashlight, but it just rebounds off the fog and blinds her. Mariam stumbles against a tree and waits for the flood of brilliance to wash from behind her eyes. When she opens them again, the fog has miraculously thinned.

She’s definitely in the woods, not one of the little town parks or someone’s backyard but somewhere wild and unmanicured. The trees are spindly but thick, almost claustrophobic. There’s still no sign of a trail, and yet it seems like she’s on one. In fact, she can see it laid out before her, free of brambles and thickets and fallen trees. The fog is thinner there, too, though all along the sides of her, it’s as dense as cinder block.

The only thing that makes sense is following it, so Mariam does, and as she walks, the music gets louder. It also becomes more familiar. Maybe it’s because she’s lost, but something about it is so inviting. If notes can be colorful, these are positively flamboyant. She finds herself smiling in the fog.

The trail-not-trail bends and when she rounds a big boulder, she sees it.

There, in a glade cloistered by a lush canopy of fiery red maples, squats an enormous circus tent replete with a black flag snapping in a breeze that she can’t feel. The tent is striped white and black, high contrast even in the dark. There’s a long entrance tunnel, and at its maw is a ticket window lined with warm white lights. It glows like a lighthouse, and Mariam finds herself drawn into its harbors.

There’s a man in the window. He’s the most intense blend of handsome and cute she has ever seen. If she looks at him from one side, his eyes are thin and sharp, and they cut through her like razors, but if she looks at him from the other, his dimples cup his playful mouth as though they can barely contain his inner vibrance. His hair is darker than the night itself, making his skin look white as starlight by comparison, but the booth lighting frames his head like a halo. He’s an impossible mix of everything all at once, and she has never seen his equal.

Mariam steps to the window with an overwhelming sense of intimidation.

“Welcome, fair lady,” he says. His voice is potent. He says each word with a confidence that she has never felt in her whole life even at her best, and she finds herself captivated in the span of five syllables. His eyes dance as he studies her. “You’re just in time.”

“For what?” she asks.

“Showtime, of course. I was just about to close the ticket window, but lucky for us, I didn’t.”

It’s kind of a weird thing to say, Mariam thinks, but his unswerving confidence makes her reconsider.

“Actually, I was just looking for directions?” she says with more of a question than she intended.

“It seems to me you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

Again, his conviction makes her question hers.

“I wasn’t planning on going to a show tonight.” She fishes through her bag and finds the small roll of ones and fives from her shift. Tuesday shifts were notoriously poor payouts, but a traveling outfit this elaborate has to cost a pretty penny considering how exclusive it must be out here in the middle of nowhere. “How much? I don't have much cash on me. You take cards?”

“Those little plastic rectangles?” he replies with a flippant smile. “Pointless.”

Mariam frowns. “Then I don’t think I can afford it.”

He leans across the counter, almost through the window itself, into her personal space. Her hands fly to her chocolate locks and gather them to one side, twisting and twisting it as tightly as she feels her stomach twisting.

“Oh, admission is very reasonable,” he assures. This time when he smiles, it feels like he’s keeping a secret. He presents a golden ticket, the glossy paper winking as it turns between his well-manicured fingers. “Admission is only a dream.”

“A dream?” Mariam says skeptically.

“Just that, miss. In exchange for the best dream you’ve ever had, we will provide you with a new one. Seems like a fair trade, yes?”

“It would be if I knew what you were talking about.”

“I promise you’ll never experience anything else like this.”

Her brow furrows as she glances up at the big top. “I don’t even know what this is.”

The ticket-taker pouts, and his lush lips fatten to sumptuous thickness. “I’m afraid the show must start, miss. Do we have a deal?”

Mariam considers. This isn’t why she came—no, wait, she didn’t intend to come here at all—but she is here now, and this charming ticket monger is next to impossible to resist. What’s the harm in telling him one single dream? He doesn’t need to know about that particular dream.

And, anyway, it’s not like he’s conning her out of any money. In essence, it’s some free, entertaining shelter from a foggy night. She weighs her options and makes her decision.

“Am I supposed to, like, write it down or something?” she asks.

“Just lean in,” he instructs.

Hesitantly, Mariam tips forward over the counter, and for a brief second, his plump lips ghost along hers.

She should jerk back. She should slap him. But she does nothing but let him kiss her like the night mist. She is frozen as a current of muddy feelings spill like water from her lips. The back of her brain tickles a bit, but it’s overruled by the more pleasant tickle of his lips dusting over hers.

When he’s done, he licks his lips, which have curled into a tiger’s grin. His eyes are lively, and he’s panting lightly. He clears his throat and adjusts his hips in his pants somewhere behind the counter.

“How delicious,” he practically purrs. “I may have to keep that one for myself. I almost feel bad for taking it from you, but I promise the replacement will exceed it.”

He presents the golden ticket, and Mariam takes it. She expects it to feel like paper or maybe metal, but instead, it feels gauzy, and she can't stop rubbing her thumb over it.

“Straight through there, fair lady,” he says. “The show is about to start, and a whole new dream awaits you.”

The ticket monger holds open the black curtain, and she enters the tunnel. The moment the curtain shuts behind her, it is blacker than an abyss. The only thing she can see is a thin, shimmering line of light at the far end.

Outside, she hears the snap of the ticket booth closing, and she knows she is alone. The music is louder now, drawing her forward more powerfully than ever, and she realizes why she recognized it in the first place. It rises and falls and scampers and twirls, almost as though she can see the notes surrounding her, teasing and laughing at her. It is the song of childhood, of delight and fantasy.

It is the song of the circus.

There are smells here, too, familiar and unfamiliar. There is the buttery warmth of popcorn and, beneath it, something much more unctuous, a bit like when the cooks at the diner render the lard for the pie crusts. There's a hint of something acrid too, and it reminds her of the smell of her father's rifles.

Mariam follows the tunnel to its end, where she parts the drape only to be assaulted by the brilliant spotlights surrounding a huge red ring. There are seats seven layers high around three sides terminating at a ring entrance shuttered by another heavy curtain, but this one is three times as tall and wide as the entrance she just came through. Just surrounding the ring are four enormous tent poles soaring to the canvas above, where wires zig and zag across the arena and café lights accent each black and white stripe, softening the harsh spotlights.

The ticket-taker is there to greet her as though he has never seen her before. He beams at her, those dimples creasing his plump cheeks. Mariam approaches with her ethereal ticket in hand and starlight in her eyes.

“What’s this? A golden ticket?” says the man with a sharp eyebrow raised. “We have ourselves a VIP tonight it seems. You’re in for a truly mesmerizing experience, miss. Follow me. I will show you to your seat.”

He does not take the ticket from her after all but, instead, leads her across the ring itself toward a pair of empty seats in a box on the floor.

“VIP?” she says as she struggles to keep up with his commanding steps. His thick black boots thunk across the floor and resound under the big top. “But I didn't pay you anything for it!”

“But you did,” he insists. “The most tantalizing dream gets the VIP treatment. After all, we have to work harder to replace what we have taken.”

Mariam tries to remember the dream she’d thought about before she entered, but where her brain searches for the memory, it finds only the lingering taste of his lips, which she savors like berries ripened by the moon until they’re ready to burst. It’s a bit of a silly thought, yet dark, sweet juice coats her mouth and whets her appetite for something even darker.

They stop outside the box seats, and the dimpled man holds open the door with a question on his face. “You want VIP, don’t you?”

“I do,” she finds herself answering.

This broadens the man’s shoulders, and now he smiles so widely that those thin eyes shut under the powerful force of his bright cheeks. “Your private seats then, my fair lady.”

Mariam sits on one of the velvet-padded seats as he closes the door and offers her a sweeping bow like the showman he is. The ticket-monger-turned-usher disappears now behind the backstage curtain, and she has little doubt she will see him in the show, most likely as a clown judging from his over-the-top antics.

As she tries to relax into her seat, Mariam spares some time to look beyond the open stage and see what other lost souls have stumbled into this weird circus. She wonders if she’ll see any of her friends or coworkers in the stands.

She does not. What she finds is far more unnerving.

There are only a dozen or so other spectators in the stands. None of them sit anywhere near each other. They are spread throughout the whole tent, high and low, mostly in shadow because the spotlights are fixed downward in the ring. At first, she thinks they are strays like her, but as they wait for the show to start, Mariam begins to doubt they are even human. If she looks at any one of them head on, they look like normal people, mostly men but a few women, too, but from her periphery, she swears she sees the jaws of a wolf or the skin of a lizard or even a pair of antlers when she turns her head. Most have eyes of glinting gold exactly like those she’s seen along the road when her high beams catch just so.

And there are fangs. Fangs everywhere, some long and thin, some fat or even serrated.

One of them, a thin, hunched man with mottled scales in patches all over his body, is eating from a black and white striped carton which might usually house popcorn, but it definitely isn’t, and he isn’t eating whatever it is with his hand but with quick snaps of a lightning-fast tongue.

Mariam is growing uncomfortable again. She had thought this place might get her back home, but it has taken her somewhere far more foreign, and she’s feeling more alone than ever. She has felt different a lot in her life but never like an actual alien.

She should probably be more scared than anything, but none of these people—creatures—are looking at her. They are all looking toward the ring. Nobody speaks although she swears she hears a snort from one side of the arena that someone echoes on the other side with a series of strange clicks.

She wishes the berry-lipped man would come back and take the seat beside her. She can’t be sure he’s human now either, but she trusts his smile and his dimples, even if she shouldn’t.

Just when Mariam is ready to dart to the exit, music swells anew. It is far more powerful than the spirited diddy that lured her here. Under the big top, the organ booms and the drums thunder, and everything feels like it’s spinning like a carousel.

“Strangers! Friends! Denizens of the dark and light dwellers alike!” comes a voice of unquestionable power from somewhere backstage. As far as Mariam can tell, there is no sound system. It's just the voice of a true entertainer filling the canvas wall-to-wall. “The time has come to revel in the greatest spectacle the night has ever seen. Pretense, common sense, even the very laws of nature itself, have no place under this canopy. What you will experience tonight will challenge your very perception of reality. Nothing you have seen before tonight can prepare you for what you are about to see. At times, you may think you have wandered into a dream, but I assure you, what you are about to witness is so much more. Welcome—”

The backstage curtains sail wide with a snap and a flutter, and a man bursts through, his arms wide and his dimples shining in the spotlights.

“—to Le Cirque du Fantasme!”

The audience applauds, rather lackluster Mariam thinks for the passion of such a lofty introduction, so she tries to clap just a little louder than everyone else. After all, she is getting the VIP treatment, so she should return the favor.

The man rises from a bow that completely folds him in half, and she shakes her head in awe. She had expected—hoped—to see him again, but she is not prepared for the striking figure the former usher cuts in his crimson crushed velvet coat. The tails swish at the back of his knees as he laps the ring. Diamond buttons splinter in the light as does the sweat already beading at his brow.

“I am Jooheon, your ringmaster, but I am also your guide. For every wonder you experience tonight, I will be by your side to remind you that what you are witnessing is indeed real. Together, we will discover there is magic left in the world if you know just where to look.”

He stops in front of the VIP box and tips his head with a smile just for Mariam, and then he is gone.

Back in the center of the ring, Jooheon enumerates the many wonders on their horizon, impossible, tantalizing things that cannot be real, yet the more he promises, the more she believes him. Thanks to this man’s unprecedented versatility, she is also starting to believe this is a one-man circus. Maybe he will perform all of the spectacular acts he’s teasing.

But Jooheon confounds her again. With a dramatic swoop of his hand, he draws the audience’s eyes to the massive curtains at the rear of the tent, and slowly, the heavy fabric parts by unseen hands.

Mariam’s seat trembles. At first, she thinks she’s imagining it, caught up in the ringmaster’s passion, but then it trembles again and again, and she realizes they’re tremors.

No. Footfalls.

The arena is dead silent.

Thwomp. Thwomp. Thwomp.

The face appears first in shadow—a great black snout snuffling so strongly that the curtains puff. Even through the veil of backstage, the eyes are clear and bright, an otherworldly metallic green that flash the same sort of gold that some of the audience members possess.

Another footfall, and the muzzle appears, ornamented with thick black lips fringed by snow white and overhung by two bone-shattering fangs as long as her hand.

Since Mariam sits off to the side, the eyes do not seem to perceive her, yet she tucks her legs up against herself and ducks her head to peer from behind her knees as the rest of the creature emerges to fill the ring.

It’s a wolf—if one can call it that. It’s nearly twice the height of a horse and just as broad. Its fur is white all over save for the silver tips to each hair that make it sparkle in the spotlight. Its chunky claws click on the ring floor as it shuffles into position.

Mariam relaxes now. Maybe it’s because Jooheon is standing there unbothered by its haunches or maybe it’s because its face is rather doglike despite its other ferocious features or maybe it’s the fact that its tail is wagging, but most likely, it’s because a man sits astride its great shoulders, scratching its fluffy ears.

“Friends, behold!” trumpets Jooheon. “Our Amorak and our beastmaster, Shownu! Together, they will take us on a journey through the world of creatures long considered too elusive or vicious to be tamed. Many have been laughed at for believing the campfire tales or legends of our ancestors, but for Shownu, these legends are not legends at all but friends and allies, and now, they will be yours, too.”

The Amorak sits down, and Shownu releases its mane to slide down its back like a child on a playground. The beastmaster lands easily and pats the great wolf’s backside. With a snap of the man’s fingers, the Amorak stands and side-steps as delicately as a pony so that even a man as imposing and broad-chested as the beastmaster stands beneath the animal, the man’s head at its elbow.

From the shadows beneath, Shownu whistles, and the wolf spins so its back legs face the audience. Another whistle, this one like a see-saw, and the creature wags its tail in huge, careful strokes that send its long fur sweeping the faces of the audience members brave enough to sit in the first couple rows. Laughter rings out. Mariam finds she is laughing, too, and perhaps even a little envious.

As if he knows this, Jooheon saunters over to the VIP box and says, “Fair lady, would you please stand?”

“What?” she whispers hoarsely.

“Now is better,” he teases with his dimples.

The Amorak shifts, and now there is no doubt it perceives her. The beastmaster steps out from the belly of the beast and walks toward her. Mariam shoots up from her seat, less out of fear of the creature than out of respect for its master.

Shownu stands opposite Jooheon at the box and centers his attention on the VIP. There is a gentleness in his face that she could never have anticipated considering his ominous moniker, but Shownu smiles at her very differently than Jooheon ever has. His lips do not part but, instead, sit neatly atop each other in a way that raises his cheeks like two little fresh-baked rolls.

“Hold out your hand, palm up,” the beastmaster instructs in a gruff but inviting voice.

Mariam does so hesitantly, and when her arm is fully extended, the Amorak raises its paw, too, and places it light as a feather in hers. It’s so huge that only a portion of a single blazing paw pad fills her palm. Its long feathery fur tickles her skin, and she finds herself giggling. The two men exchange smiles, and the Amorak lowers its head. It snorts once, and her long hair sails behind her. She laughs harder now, and the beast and the beastmaster withdraw to the heart of the ring again, her body vibrating both from the experience and the tremors of footfalls.

Mariam sits back down, cradling her hand to her chest with a slack-jawed smile on her face.

The duo performs a few other stunts—the Amorak stands on his back legs and wobbles in the circle, as does Shownu, which has the audience cackling, and then it howls, nearly blowing the roof off the circus tent, which sends the audience cowering—before the wolf takes a seat and Shownu takes a post at the curtain.

Another man, this one even broader and more muscular than Shownu, comes out just long enough to shepherd in two sweet-faced animals before he disappears into the back. At first, Mariam thinks they are fawns, but then she sees the tawny wings folded at their backs.

Jooheon introduces these as perytons, not that that means anything to her, but the antlered person she’d caught sight of earlier in the stands cheers and stamps so enthusiastically that the ringmaster practically glows with the praise.

Shownu gets the energetic little critters to perform a choregraphed dance, which would be cute enough, but then they take to the sky, and whimsy becomes awe. The perytons glide and weave just like birds though they snort and snuffle like deer. Mariam is so lost in the spectacle that she barely catches Jooheon’s note that their sweet faces conceal true power, and no sooner does he say this then one of the little deer-birds divebombs the spectator with the popcorn container and, with taloned back legs instead of its hooved front ones, grabs a hunk of what looks like entrails and lobs it back like a baseball to its friend. The other peryton snaps it out of mid-air to devour it, and the sight of a sweet little fawn face gobbling intestines is not something Mariam imagines she will ever forget. The Amorak growls, and the two mischievous babies promptly land, bleating like kids laughing at their father.

After that, Shownu spreads his arms out wide and lifts his powerful chest, and the perytons follow suit, their hawk-like wings fanned out, every feather articulated. There’s no denying the stir in Mariam’s belly as she studies the beastmaster commanding his beasts, for they follow his every command unquestioningly.

The perytons perform a few more aerial tricks of agility with a ball and a ribbon, and when they are done, the buff shepherd from earlier fetches them to the back and then returns, this time dropping a trail of meat into the ring.

From the back inches a gigantic pink blob. The front end is nothing but a gaping maw lined with hundreds of wicked teeth, and… that’s it—it’s nothing but pinkness and horrifying teeth. Again, Mariam finds herself tucking her feet up onto her chair as though she’s afraid it will break into the box and mow her clean off at the knees.

Jooheon explains this is a Mongolian Death Worm, eyeless and earless but hardly helpless. The crowd is instructed to keep quiet since it hunts by vibration, but Mariam quickly sees that is only partly true when the worm reaches Shownu, and the beastmaster stoops down to pat the top of its head while two big nostrils open for a long sniff.

The creature is longer than her father's car and the color of exposed muscle. Its segments undulate when it moves as well as when it eats, which is an awful lot like Taz from the Looney Tunes, she thinks. It should be grotesque, but Mariam can't help but find it adorable as the monster looks up at its master and seems to smile even without eyes and lips.

Through a series of stamps and claps of his hands against the floor, Shownu communicates with the beast. It rolls up and lunges on command, jawless mouth snapping. It roars with the power and ferocity of a sandstorm, and her blood curdles. Then, as if to rub its stubby pink nose in the face of its moniker, the worm curls into a ball that Shownu scoops up in his sturdy hands and lobs straight into the air for his Amorak to catch in its mouth. Finally, the big wolf drops it to the ground, and the giant wad of chewed bubble gum unspools and jiggles itself dry to the squeal of the few audience members who sat too close to the action and got sprayed with giant dog saliva.

As the laughter dies down, however, the ringmaster reminds everyone not so subtly that this is a death worm. To prove that point, Shownu brings out a giant rod with a metal ball on the end and taps the top of the worm's head. It growls—a sound that trembles in the bones more than in the ears, a bit like a building earthquake or an oncoming train—and rears up, and when it does, it puffs out almost twice its width. Fantastic crackles of lightning discharge from its head and arc into the ball at the end of the rod. They snap and pop and sizzle in yellow so brilliant, Mariam has to close her eyes most of the way so she doesn’t go blind.

When at last the worm deflates, panting in the ring, the beastmaster touches the tip of the rod to the metal pole supporting the tent, and a sonic boom shivers the canvas on its rails. The residual electricity stands up every hair on Mariam's arms and, unfortunately, most of her head, too, which she is quick to smooth down. Shownu pats the worm on the head again, and the chubby blob slinks off behind the buff shepherd, rather satisfied for a death worm, she thinks.

After a hearty round of applause, the beastmaster and the Amorak both bow to the audience, and Shownu takes the opportunity to leap between the giant wolf’s shoulder blades. When it rises again, the man sits astride with a nod for the crowd and one specifically for Mariam, and he looks as much like a cowboy on a horse as he does a man on a mythological creature.

Jooheon takes center stage again, and she is struck by just how much the man seems to belong in the spotlight. With a toothy grin, he says, “Shownu, everyone! Please let him hear how much you loved his menagerie of talented friends.”

Applause and cheers ring out, and Mariam joins in extra loudly since she’s still feeling electrified by the death worm.

“For our next act, I invite you to feast your eyes on a man with the strength of a beast, the body of a god, and the face of an angel. But it isn’t just strength he brings to the table, no, no, no, but agility. Straight from the realm of the Fair Folk, prepare to delight in the beautiful brute force and precision artistry of our resident fae, Wonho!”

The ringmaster steps to the edge of the ring as the former shepherd returns to center stage, padding out in bare feet unaccompanied. He is massive, with enormous shoulders corded with muscle protruding from his tank top. Mariam wonders how it doesn’t burst at the seams considering how the rest of his chest bulges against the fabric, but maybe that’s just another part of the circus magic or it’s simply painted on. It's not much different with his pants. The way the fabric stretches around his tree trunk thighs is perhaps even more magical, and she knows she should probably look away, but how can she when it seems as though the man was made specifically to ogle.

His white hair has the faintest hint of lilac, and like the Amorak fur, there’s a metallic glint to it, but it’s nothing to the glint in his emerald eyes. Even from ringside, they are piercing, so green that they seem lit by some internal flame, and when they fall to her, Mariam exhales so sharply that she realizes she’s been holding her breath since he strolled in.

He is carrying something in his enormous hands. It looks like a giant crystal cube, and it warps and shatters the light like a disco ball.

Wonho smiles. It’s as dazzling as Jooheon’s, all teeth but no dimples, and it accentuates just how delicate he is despite his big body. His ears stick out like little butterfly wings, but just before she can be spirited away by such cuteness, he shucks the tank top over his head, and it’s not just the intimidating display of muscle that catches her off-guard—it’s the actual set of wings at his back.

They unfurl, thin and translucent as stained glass, framed in by silver rims as fragile as the mint green panes inside. She thinks there's no way that something so ethereal could possibly be functional, but, as if to prove her wrong, Wonho alights before her eyes toward a crow's nest just above the ring. The wings make a rustling sound, like a stack of papers blown apart at an open window. They beat nearly as fast as a bumblebee’s, and when he pivots in the air, the breeze they make ruffles Mariam’s hair.

He lands on the platform there and puts down the block in his hand. He wipes his hands on his pants and then rubs them together before waving at each group of the audience. To Mariam, he adds a bow.

When he's ready, he takes several deep breaths, that gargantuan chest ballooning with every one. He picks up the block and splays his hands on either side of it, and then she hears the cracking. It sounds like ice when she pours soda over it at the diner, pops and crackles and pings.

His biceps strain and his forearms flex, and the cracking gets louder and louder and louder. Huge fissures zigzag across the cube until there's an explosion. The cube is powder now, piles in his hands and at his feet. Before anyone even has a chance to applaud, the strongman pivots and flaps his wings, and now, it's snowing under the tent. Like an oscillating fan, he swivels from side to side, and Mariam feels the kiss of snowflakes on her cheeks and lashes. It melts instantly, but its dewy memory sends a smile of pure marvel to her face.

Instead of flying down from his perch, Wonho leaps and lands on his feet with a thud so fast that the snow is still falling like glitter on his fair skin. He doesn't bother to brush it off but lets it melt to a sparkly finish that turns him into living art.

He spends a few minutes lifting impossibly heavy objects and then taking to the air with them as though they are beach balls and not anvils and boulders and other ridiculous things. With his hands, he twists pipes into shapes like balloon animals and ties a knot—out of rebar—with his feet.

Another man emerges from the back then, this one long and thin like taffy freshly pulled, but when he steps into the ruthless lighting, she sees his fair skin is covered in delicate iridescent scales. He brings a stool, a mirror, a bow and arrow, and a bullseye. The tall man configures everything carefully while Wonho makes faces at his coworker in the mirror, and Mariam realizes the strongman is just as much a clown as anything.

When everything is ready, the tall man steps back. Wonho does a handstand on the stool, his back to the bullseye and his eyes on the mirror opposite it.

There’s something about the way his muscles lengthen as he contorts that has Mariam licking her lips. The twitches in his forearms as he adjusts, the flare of his ribs under that dewy skin, that illicit bulge urging against the constraints of his lycra pants—Wonho is truly an astonishing sight, and there’s a pang in her heart when she realizes how much of the world will never know his beauty and grace.

When he’s balanced just so, muscles trembling and abdominals squeezing with breath and stability, the other man situates the bow with the arrow already nocked between Wonho’s nimble feet.

The strongman shuffles his hands on the stool seat and achingly slowly bends his legs, arching his chest as a counterbalance. When the bow and arrow are lined up with the bullseye, Wonho grips the bowstring and pulls it taut.

Mariam holds her breath.

Wonho holds his.

The arrow flies.

Straight into the red bullseye.

The small crowd breaks out into uproarious applause, and she finds herself standing as she claps. Wonho bows to them all as the tall man clears out the equipment, and just as the strongman finishes his rounds, the Amorak comes bounding back in.

The audience recoils at the sudden thunderous intrusion, especially since the great beast is growling, but Wonho is unbothered, and only then does Mariam realize there’s a humongous rope lodged in its great teeth. The strongman pats the wolf’s head before he snatches the free end of the rope and shakes the Amorak back and forth. The growling turns to snarls.

Wonho takes to the air, yanking and pulling, those fragile wings beating more ferociously than the snarls sound. The Amorak digs in its claws and tries to pull back, but with a cheeky wave to the crowd, the white-haired fae drags the wolf back through the curtain as though the creature ten times his size is nothing but a tiny terrier.

The room is speechless, which Jooheon is only too happy to discover.

The ringmaster slides right back into the spotlight and trumpets, “Don’t forget to let Wonho hear it if you were impressed.”

Of course, the small crowd erupts, Mariam chief among them. She can’t escape the image of those pretty wings contrasting rock-hard muscle, the kiss of ice crystals melting on ivory skin.

It’s impossible. It’s unbelievable. She is shaken to her very core.

“We’re not done yet, folks,” Jooheon promises as he cuts through her existential crisis. “Our next performer is just as sure to wow you as much with his incredible dexterity as his unparalleled visuals. I personally guarantee you have never before seen anything like his act let alone the performer himself. He has come up from the darkest depths of the sea to dazzle and delight you with wonderous abilities only a one-of-a-kind hybrid like himself can conjure.

“During portions of the show, you may feel tempted to enter the ring. For your safety as well as the safety of our performer, I ask that you please use the seatbelts provided at your seat before we begin.”

Mariam looks down and finds that there is indeed a belt dangling from her chair, which seems utterly ridiculous at first, but as she recalls the incredible things she’s just witnessed, she secures it around her waist. Only a moment later, as the click of buckles ding around the tent, Jooheon walks by with a gentle smile, though his eyes are on her secured seatbelt.

He does the same throughout the rest of the crowd while two new men, one with red hair and one with blue, emerge with Wonho from the back and lift a large wooden cover from the center of the ring to reveal a shallow pool of water. They roll the cover off to the side into a metal corral and then linger at the lip of the ring along with Shownu and the man with the scales, who takes up his station closest to Mariam’s booth. Each man turns his back to the stage to watch the crowd instead, and when the man with the scales catches her gaze, the iridescence shimmers to the sweetest pink before it goes white as a sheet.

She has only a moment to reflect on the tall man’s otherworldly elegance before Jooheon clears his throat.

“Introducing: the one, the only, the luminescent Kihyun!”

The lights dim and the gentle circus music that always swells between acts dies entirely. Each of the last two performances had music, but now, it is so quiet, all she can hear is the lapping of the pool.

It is almost pitch black, though there is just enough light to see a figure emerge from behind the curtain.

He is compact and wiry. His bare feet pad across the ring and dip into the pool with the gentlest of splashes. He wades into the center, the water rising no higher than mid-shin, and then he opens his eyes.

Mariam had assumed it was just too dark to see his eyes, but now that they are open, she understands. He’s special.

They shimmer with the same eerie softness of a glow-in-the-dark toy. They don’t have the sharpness of oncoming headlights which force the eyes away, but instead, they draw her in. They beckon. She imagines seeing them looking down at her in the dark of a bedchamber, but she shakes the thoughts away.

He stoops and rifles beneath the water and soon comes up with a handful of rings. One by one, he squeezes them, and suddenly, they glow, too. He drops four chartreuse rings back below the water to glow at his feet but holds on to five others, though each of those are different colors.

Slowly, Mariam realizes it’s not just Kihyun’s eyes or the rings that glow. Pinpricks of light stud his body like a runway, and she can see now that, though he has arms and legs like a man, he is different—he is more. His skin is also unique. Though she can’t be sure of the exact colors, his front is definitely lighter than his back.

He wears a skintight outfit, something streamlined like a full-body swimsuit though its hard to be sure in the wan light, but now, she can clearly see the outline of sharp, articulated fins both on his forearms and his back.

Kihyun divides the rings in his hands and begins to toss them in the air until a rainbow of light streaks through the darkness. He builds speed until it seems that he’s not just juggling rings but bending light all together.

Once he’s captivated the crowd, he begins to sing. It’s not like anything Mariam has ever heard. Her heart slows. Her mind muddles. She forgets things beyond the show of light and the swirl of the melody around her. Kihyun bend a series of “oohs” and “ahs” of varying textures and power and lengths just as he bends the light—masterfully.

He spins. He pivots. He catches behind his back. Through it all, he sings.

Mariam realizes vaguely that her hips hurt where something presses unfairly against her. It’s keeping her from the ring. It’s keeping her from Kihyun. If she could tear her eyes from him, she could figure it out, but she can’t risk a second away from his incandescent frame.

The music stops, and Mariam stops, too, waiting for the next dulcet note. Abruptly, the juggler gathers all but one the rainbow rings in one hand and crouches down to the water.

He rubs the pink ring along the surface in a figure eight, and when he lifts it, it is dripping loudly in the stone silent room. He brings it up to his face, and Mariam can finally see his features clearly—his angular jaw, his strong cheekbones, his sharp eyebrows. Even the bow on his elegant lips is pointed.

He puckers those dangerous lips and blows into the center of the ring. Just like a kid’s wand, a bubble appears, but Kihyun does not easily run out of breath and the bubble stays flexible. By the time he is done, the bubble is almost as tall as he is. With a swift motion, he flicks the ring inside the bubble, and it seals behind it. The surface warbles with the pink light within, and with another gust from his lips, it sails to the ceiling above Jooheon and hangs obediently like a balloon tied off. He repeats the process with the remaining four rings until there is a watery chandelier illuminating the whole room. Mariam catches a glimpse of shimmering aqua on her own skin, hears the burble of the impossibly churning water sphere overhead, but she can't bring herself to look up—only ahead.

Kihyun stoops and scoops a cupful of water, which he then pours into his mouth. At first, she assumes it’s just a necessary part of being whatever it is he is, but then he spits a thin jet of the water into the air, only when he does, it’s colored with the same eerie blue-white light that dots his body. The stream wanes, but he replenishes it with another long draft from the cup, this time arcing the glowing water like a hula hoop as he spins. On the last drink, he blows a trio of bubbles, these ones as small as his fist but infused with the otherworldly luster. He does not pop them but casts them gingerly just above his head where they hang like a halo.

Finally, he fishes back through the water again, and this time, he brings up five already-glowing balls. These, like the rings, are clearly a prop, though half of Mariam wonders if they’re actually shimmering deep sea pearls.

Kihyun starts juggling these the same way he did the rings, establishing a familiar rhythm before picking up speed until he adds a new layer. He closes those firefly eyes and trusts in whatever senses he has left to keep the balls aloft.

Above him, the little bubble crown illuminates his wet black hair, which undulates back from his face as though caught in an unseen current. It is as mesmerizing as the blender-like rhythm the balls seem to be caught in between his dexterous hands.

Sing.

Please sing.

Please.

Mariam thinks she’s said that in her head, but the whispers hit her ear, and she realizes she hasn’t.

The man with the scales encroaches at the edge of her vision, and it’s a crude reminder that there are others in the room beside the luminescent Kihyun.

As though he’s heard her, the juggler opens that exceptional mouth, and more notes pour out, and though there’s no eerie blue light to accompany them, they’re brilliant all the same. Kihyun has a way of singing that sounds as though they’re all underwater.

None of the balls waver even for a second. His unswerving confidence that he will never let them drop is almost as mesmerizing as his unearthly voice.

Again, Mariam feels that pressure across her hips, and it’s becoming more insistent by the second.

She should be in the ring by now. She needs to be. She might go insane if she’s not.

A whistle pierces the air, and Kihyun stops singing. The balls fall together in a discordant splash, and quick as the death worm’s lightning, the juggler raises his arm, forearms out and fins in a full mast. From the tips of those articulations, he shoots something too small to see in the dim light though Mariam hears the little pew-pew-pew-pew-pew as he spins in the pool.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

Each massive glowing bubble explodes overhead while the rings inside fall into the hands of his fellow performers and the water rains in a much-needed cold shower over the audience. Mariam lets out a squeal as she is drenched and gulping for air against the wet chill. Goosebumps dimple her from head to toe, and she folds her arms over her chest to generate fresh heat.

The crowd is too stunned to applaud, but Kihyun doesn’t wait for it either. He exits the pool, bows to the stands, and then pads off to the back while the other performers begin the cleanup. Meanwhile, Wonho takes to the sky to buzz over the handful of audience members one by one, spinning around so his wings beat like a fan over them. He reaches Mariam last, and when he blasts her with air, she yelps and shivers, but in short order, she is dry and happy again in her flannel. He tips his impish head to her and buzzes back to help the others with the last of the preparation, and soon the ring is back as it was.

Now dry and sober, the audience remembers itself, and together, they erupt into riotous applause. Mariam tries to stand for an ovation, but then she remembers the seatbelt, and as soon as she unbuckles it, it’s like a weight is off her lap, and suddenly, it doesn’t seem so silly.

“Let him know, let him know!” cheers Jooheon as he takes center stage again. “You’ll never see another one like Kihyun, folks.”

Of that, Mariam is certain. She claps fiercer than ever even as her cheeks color at the memory of his voice.

“I’m sorry to tell you we have but two acts to go,” Jooheon laments, and Mariam laments with him. She feels the dread even before he says it. But he brightens immediately and surges forth in a sweeping circle around the room. “But the good news is they will both delight, confound, and astound you.

“First up, from far across the seas, on an untamed mountain, comes a beautiful and elusive man who both defies your notice but also demands it. Don’t let the sweet face fool you, he is wild and unpredictable and harbors a true hunger for adventure. Prepare to thrill as he risks life and limb to take you to the edge like never before! I present to you… Hyungwon!”

The spotlight centers in the ring, but no one is there and no one emerges from the back either.

“Hyungwon!” Jooheon repeats just as dramatically, but no one appears. Eyes start darting around the room, so, too, do whispers break out. The man in the crimson coat looks back to the entrance. “Hyungwon?”

The ringmaster looks a little nervous, those robust lips pulled tight as he paces the ring edge. He clears his throat.

“My apologies, esteemed guests. Hyungwon is supposed to be nocturnal, but sometimes he drifts off. Just a minute, and we'll get on with the show.”

Mariam sees Wonho darting back behind the curtains while, in the deep shadows at the edge of the ring, she spies the mysterious Kihyun with his arms stacked over his chest as he shakes his head. It's just starting to get uncomfortable, and they're all at the edge of their seats.

“Where is he?” Mariam whispers.

“Boo,” comes a totally different whisper along with a puff of hot breath beside her ear.

Mariam yells and instantly clamps her hand over her mouth as she jukes to the side in time to catch the luminous round face of the man with the scales.

All eyes as well as a spotlight turn to the VIP box to find Hyungwon with this face beside hers, flaunting a toothy grin and cheeks like doorbells begging to be pressed. His laugh is airy and infectious, childlike even, and though he has startled a year of her life from her, Mariam is laughing, too, even as her hand clutches her heart in hopes of slowing it.

How long had he been there without her knowing?

As her pulse slows, she closes her eyes, and when she opens them, he is nowhere to be seen.

Mariam swivels around like a dope, but the new performer has vanished. A few other crowd members laugh, but the patchy lizard man with the long tongue is outright cackling and applauding louder than anyone as though he understands the joke better than the rest of them can.

Jooheon, Wonho, and Kihyun are all laughing, too, so Mariam has to assume this is all part of the man's grand entrance.

And grand it is! Now when the spotlight centers in the ring, Hyungwon strolls into it. He is sporting a pair of leather pants but nothing else, not even shoes, and she can see it's not just his hands and neck and face covered in those scales but his whole body. Like the rest of his features, they are delicate and captivating, almost like glitter sewn directly onto his skin. He throws his arms wide, and she is dazzled by more than just his unique features. He is lean and sinewy with a tiny waist and shoulders as broad as a door.

Colors and shapes dance across his scales in seemingly impossible patterns; even his hair shifts like fiber optics. She recognizes many of the patterns: the tent stripes or the ring floor or the Amorak’s fur; for a moment, he even glows like Kihyun’s strange luminescence. His visual display morphs into a splash of crimson in the exact shape and design of the ringmaster’s coat, which makes Jooheon beam and clap enthusiastically. Hyungwon concludes with the most shocking display of all—he nearly disappears from plain sight by copying the patterns of the backgrounds on all sides.

But then something occurs to Mariam. Hyungwon is almost totally invisible thanks to his camouflage, but the leather cannot follow suit so it looks like a pair of pants floating in the middle of the ring. When he’d been right beside her though, there’d been nothing—not even pants. Shock and more than a little embarrassment grip her body, and she swears the performer knows because he turns to her right then with a very troublesome smile.

Mariam has been so busy being awestruck by their performances that it hasn’t occurred to her to consider how much of them is human when so many parts of them clearly are not. But now the rabbit is out of the hat and she's chasing helplessly after it, wondering what kind of lovers such spectacular beings would be. That's not a thing she should be thinking about looking at a chameleon man, especially because she is a conservative person—she has been her whole life. But sometimes she has thoughts… fantasies. Sometimes she has unusual dreams. There was one in particular she’s often thought of since, in her moments of weakness, but what was it again?

She's so far gone in the illicit thoughts that she nearly falls out of her seat when a motorcycle above her roars. She looks up, and there is Hyungwon at the peak of tent on a platform much higher than the one Wonho had risked. She doesn’t remember the motorcycle there, but it must have been. It sits anchored at the edge of the platform. It has no tires, just rims resting on top of a wire, and though there is a ring securing the machine to the wire, it won’t keep it upright. Beneath it is a perch as a counterbalance, and, of all things, one of the perytons sits on it. Its clawed back feet cling like a bird on a wire.

Hyungwon sits astride the motorcycle, now clad in a black leather vest and a pair of boots. As a whimsical note, some of the scales across his face have blackened into a sunglasses shape. He isn’t tethered to anything, and Mariam can see between his slight twitches and the peryton’s, they are working together to keep themselves upright on the wire.

The engine revs again, and Jooheon raises his hands to incite the crowd. Everyone whoops and cheers, including Mariam, and then Hyungwon zooms ahead.

The bike zips up the slight incline to the other end, where he lets off the gas, and the unlikely pair drifts backwards smooth as a sled riding down a snowy hill. Once they’re back at the bottom, Hyungwon surges ahead again, but he slows when they reach the middle of the line. He cuts the engine, and instead, the room fills with the ping-ping of the wire bobbing under the weight.

Below, the peryton wobbles and tips backwards, clinging to the rail with its claws as it hangs upside down and spreads its wings. Once it’s at full breadth, Hyungwon stands on the footpegs and slowly—tremulously, steps both feet onto the seat before propping one on the handlebars. He, too, spreads his muscled arms, and as the motorcycle glides backward down the slope, little bursts of yellow, like tiny supernovas, fire across his skin. Feathers whisper in the breeze before the crowd roars with the showcase.

Mariam’s heart is in her throat, so big she practically chokes on it. Her skin pebbles with fresh goosebumps because the pair isn’t slowing. In fact, the motorcycle is picking up speed as it glides.

Before they can crash back into the platform, Hyungwon slides back onto the seat and revs the engine again. The peryton swings back upright, and the rider tosses down some dark and messy treat to his passenger.

Mariam assumes it’s over, but then the bike sails even faster up to the peak, and this time when they brake at the top, the peryton rocks side-to-side, and just like that, the motorcycle loops like a propeller around and around the wire.

She screams. So does someone else. Both rider and passenger are completely unbothered.

They whirl backwards down the wire, and it almost makes Mariam sick to watch the spinning. Even worse, as has been happening all night, she thinks again on things she shouldn’t. She thinks on how strong his thighs have to be to hold onto that bike, and she finds herself clenching hers just as hard.

Just as they get to the platform, the peryton startles and takes flight, which immediately flips the motorcycle. Hyungwon plunges from his seat several stories above the floor. Screams ring out all around the canopy.

But not Mariam. She can’t scream. This time, she’s too paralyzed with terror.

This is it. This is going to be the show where something goes horribly, terribly wrong, and as much as she had already been changed by tonight’s performances, this will ruin her.

She feels sick.

Hyungwon’s halfway to his surefire death when the winged creature swoops down casual as can be and grabs his outstretched wrist with its back claw. He drifts like Alice falling down the rabbit hole to Wonderland onto yet another motorcycle that Mariam never even saw waiting for him in the ring.

Relief washes through her, and she realizes that over the course of however long she’s been sitting here, she has formed some kind of unnatural bond with the performers. She thinks of them not just as acrobats or athletes but as friends—or, maybe, more disturbingly, something more. Just the notion of them getting hurt tightens every muscle in her body like a winch.

But no one else seems nearly as bothered by the daring risks they’ve just witnessed. As the crowd leaps to its feet, Hyungwon waves and circles the ring on the bike a few times. With a rev of his engine and one final wheelie, he speeds to the back with the peryton in tow.

Jooheon makes his way to ring center as usual, and he’s cheering just as much as the audience. That infectious smile of his stirs the crowd as much as it stirs Mariam’s heart with gratitude.

“How about that, dear guests? I think I can boast with total confidence that that was yet another act such as you have never seen! Another round of applause for Hyungwon and Dyani. Let them hear you.”

The audience doesn’t disappoint. With each act, they’ve gotten more and more comfortable and more and more awestruck. It’s beginning to feel like an impossible ask to ever leave this big top. Yet, Jooheon’s next words send a chill through Mariam’s bones.

“As always, we close our show with the most dynamic performance of all. As you have learned by now, nothing about Le Cirque du Fantasme is traditional, so it must hold true that neither are our clowns. Not only will they take to the skies tonight, but they will take you to new heights with them. Be dazzled as fire and ice harmonize in ways you never thought possible, and, above all, expect the unexpected. Presenting The Flying Fools, Minhyuk and Changkyun!”

The ringmaster steps to the side as the final two performers enter the room.

They move in perfect unison, but that’s where the similarities end. The taller one, with hair like candle flames, presents in vivid detail. His face is shaped like a flame, too, with all the same flickering dimension and undulating contours. His skin is bright and brilliant like his smile only with a sheen to it, and when he spins in the lights, Mariam realizes it’s like a cast of gold dust upon him. She’s not sure if that’s stage makeup or if that’s just part of who he is, but considering his counterpart, it seems like the latter.

The shorter one has hair like snowflake filaments, each strand almost crystalline yet without being actually frozen. Even the cool way he strolls feels like a breeze across damp skin. Though his lines are sharp, borderline cutting, when he steps in the light, Mariam swears she can see through him. He’s sleek when he moves; every line and twitch has a purpose. It’s as though he is untethered and untouchable by everything. It’s almost as though his feet aren’t even touching the floor. She might think he’s a ghost if everyone else weren’t seeing the same thing.

With a pair of synchronized bows, the performers greet their audience silently just as the others did, saving all the talking for their ringmaster. Instead, they start their act with a series of incredible one-upsmanship. The redhead conjures fire in his palm, which the blue-haired man snuffs with a flick of his wrist. In retaliation, he then creates three snowballs of varying sizes into a very sweet but very humble snowman, and the redhead returns the favor by lobbing a fireball under his knee with the unforgiving precision of a meteor. The poor snowman explodes and melts into a puddle while the crowd chuckles.

They make faces at one another as they hurry to build their next assault. One constructs a basketball-sized snowball to the other’s fireball, and with a war cry like two brothers squaring up, they throw at each other. If either is off-target, Mariam will be buried in snow and the other side of the ring will be engulfed in flame, but their aim is true, and the two balls collide with a hiss like punching a hill of sand.

As they mock-squabble, a bar lowers from the ceiling, one side featuring a ring dangling from a chain and the other side featuring willowy baby blue ribbons fluttering as they descend. The two performers continue silently bickering as the redhead climbs into his ring and takes a seat and the blue-haired man winds his foot intricately through one ribbon while he scales the silks.

Once their eyelines are even, the bar raises, and now, the two men soar over center stage a few stories up. Closer to the spotlights, the redhead glitters like a disco ball while, at precisely the right moment, the light pierces the blue-haired man, like sun through a blanket of clouds, and shines down on the ringmaster’s grin.

As the pair reach their pinnacle, they play—not just off of the instruments but each other. It’s organized chaos. The man in the ring rocks like a monkey on a swing, his feet kicking and lifting. At first, it’s art, but then it’s clear his true intent is to toy with his friend. He drops. He swings. He pushes off of his friend’s back like a swimmer off the pool wall.

While the man in the ring flips and threads through his hoop, the man in the straps flies beside him. Thanks to the push, physics draws them back together until they’re rebounding off each other like a Newton’s cradle. Both of them are light and slender, but their sinew flexes with each choreographed move.

Watching them somehow makes Mariam feel strangely feminine, which isn’t something she usually thinks much about. Between work and TV and sleep, she doesn’t spend much time on herself. Carmel is a hamlet, too far removed from the City for the Big Apple to tempt her and too insular to attract outsiders except for the accidental stranger passing through. She doesn’t have to doll herself up because there’s no one in town left to impress, but as the dexterous duo wheels above to a chorus of ruffling silk and clanking chains, she feels soft, pliable even. She wishes she’d had time to change out of her shift clothes or apply some lip gloss. Watching them perform makes her yearn to impress them the way they’ve all impressed her.

Her eyelids droop.

They’re so beautiful. They sail as though the ribbons and chains are merely there for decoration, as though the sky would be their playground with or without them. They might be aiming to make everyone laugh, but Mariam sees beyond that. It’s their artistry she’s swept up in—the way they flick not just their wrists but echo the motion straight through to their fingertips, the way they use every part of their body to sell a complete experience, the way their no doubt countless hours of rehearsal ensures their whimsy looks as effortless as it does unstudied.

The blue-haired man chokes up on one silk as he releases the other and wraps his foot in the chiffon. He spins. He twirls. He sails by his wrist. The ribbon fans like a cape beneath him.

But when he swings too close to his fellow performer, the redhead shoves him playfully out into space to send the blue-haired man arcing over the audience to a chorus of “oohs” and “ahs”. Seeking his revenge, the aerialist slips down the fabric to angle himself like a bullet with an aim for his fellow performer.

At the last moment, the man in the ring latches on to his friend’s wrist, and together, ring and ribbon twine through the air. They circle together before they push apart and rotate like two bodies caught in each other’s orbit. It’s beautiful. It’s hypnotic.

Mariam can’t get them out of her head. Of all the things she’s seen tonight, they ensorcel her every sense. They’re two fools bickering like brothers, but without the bounds of gravity, their playfulness becomes aerial ballet. She wants to be part of the fun.

The redhead climbs on top of his hoop, legs splayed around the supporting chain, and reaches for the chiffon. While he goes high, the blue-haired man goes low, grasping the ring. He looks up at his brother-in-air and pokes his tongue wickedly at the corner of his mouth.

The next thing Mariam knows, the hoop is white with frost, and with a yank, the blue-haired aerialist shatters the ring beneath the redhead’s legs. Frozen metal tinkles to the floor. The redhead grips his chain tighter now, but there’s vengeance in those calculating eyes, and he spins so fast, he looks like a tornado of fire.

His hand lashes out.

He grabs the ribbon supporting his friend’s foot.

Flame marches up and down the chiffon, and the blue-haired man barely has time to unwind his foot and leap to the second silk before the other ribbon is engulfed. It untethers at the loop above and drifts to the floor like a snake made of fire to coil messily beside the shattered hoop.

Both men hang by one hand. The set piece begins to lower, but their rivalry does not slow. Their feet bicycle as they kick each other like toddler brothers, and the room reverberates with laughter. They collide only to push off each other’s thighs, and when they swing back, their arms are outstretched—not for each other but for their opponent’s supports.

The pair stills in the air.

The redhead grips the silk above his friend’s hand, who also has hold of the chain now.

They look each other in the eyes, each confident they have the upper hand.

Chain crackles like a sheet of ice. Fire ignites like a burner.

Their eyes widen. Their cocky grins falter.

They fall.

The pair thunders to the floor, each landing on his own feet thanks to their cleverly choreographed descent. And then they descend into a playground slap fight like the fools they’re promoted to be, which sends Jooheon skittering to center ring to break it up.

The tent is shaking with the crowd’s laughter and applause. Mariam is already on her feet and whooping at the top of her lungs like she’s never done before.

Jooheon raises the redhead’s arm by the wrist and champions, “Minhyuk!”

He does the same to the blue-haired man next as he yells, “Changkyun!”

The crowd somehow gets louder.

“One more time, my friends, for all our distinguished performers!”

Out of the back comes the rest of the circus, including the Amorak and the perytons but thankfully no death worm. Together, everyone fills the ring, the ringmaster front and center. They bow in unison, even the animals, and when they rise, Mariam thinks it’s simultaneously the most ridiculous and most wonderful family she’s ever seen.

The crowd doesn’t seem to take a breath in its cheers. The stands might not be anywhere near packed, but no one would be able to tell because the heartfelt screams—and a couple of animalistic roars, she notes—fill the canvas to the brim.

Jooheon couldn’t look prouder. His dimples have never been deeper. His eyes are little arches. His pearly teeth glimmer. He glows not from the spotlights but from the praise.

“Thank you all for coming! From all of us at Le Cirque du Fantasme, you’ve been a terrific audience, and should our paths chance to meet again someday, we hope you’ll return for another round of unparalleled fantasies. Get home safely, everyone!”

The cheering continues even as the performers head backstage, and once they’re all gone, the guests begin to filter out, each murmuring to the other strangers. It’s clearer now that the lights have come up that the denizens of the big top couldn’t be more different. As far as Mariam can tell, she’s the only obvious human.

She lingers in the VIP box. She’s probably supposed to leave—it’s clear from Jooheon’s well-wishes that they’re all supposed to—and while she’s not afraid of the strange folk after such a show, she just doesn’t want to go.

She’s changed.

She’s not the same Mariam she was when she walked through those striped flaps. How can she go back to her boring, conservative, empty life knowing all that truly surrounds her? It’s like discovering that the world she always thought was flat has a third dimension.

The big top is empty now except for spilled cartons and other litter. Humongous paw prints dapple the dusty ring floor. Motes of dust drift through the beams of light, past the gently swaying extra cache of rings, ropes, and ribbons above.

With a deep, shaking sigh, Mariam resigns herself to her fate. Just as her hand lands on the swinging door to the box seats, the backstage curtains fling open, and the redhead, Minhyuk, and his blue-haired partner, Changkyun, enter.

“Finally!” exclaims Minhyuk in an exuberant voice. “Showtime is always the hardest when you can't open your mouth.”

“I think you’re the only one who suffers on that point,” Changkyun retorts in a much gravellier tone.

The pair take to sweeping up their torched and shattered mess as though they don't even realize they still have an audience, the redhead gabbing away to make up for lost time.

Mariam doesn’t say anything. She’s sure she’s not supposed to be here, and she worries they’ll ban her from ever coming back—not that she’s sure exactly where she is or how she got here. She ducks down a little before she catches herself in her own stupidity. There’s nowhere to hide.

Should she apologize? Hurry out? She could just tell them that their rhythmic aerial battling has stirred things in her that she never thought she’d feel, but that’s probably stupider than trying to hide.

The last act is still emblazoned in her mind when the ringmaster abruptly appears from the back. While the other two men work around the tent, he heads directly toward Mariam as though he never expected her to leave in the first place.

“Well, my dear, what did you think of the show?”

His lips look even fuller and juicier somehow. She’s drunk just on the way they purse and pucker.

“Unbelievable,” she breathes. “I don’t even know what to say about it.”

“And how has VIP been so far?”

Mariam cocks her head to the side. “So far?”

“Did you think your experience ended with the show?”

“Well, yeah.”

Jooheon chuckles. “For the pretty maid in the front row, I offer a truly once-in-a-lifetime upgrade free of charge.”

“What kind of upgrade?”

“Only the most exclusive kind. We’re going to custom build you a dream, my dear.”

Mariam squints. “I thought the circus was the new dream?”

“Well, thank you, but you forget that we took your best dream ever.”

“Oh, yeah,” she says with a blush and a scuff of her boot on the floor. She's getting a strange feeling from his burrowing gaze that she's missing something more important than she’s realized. “But since I don't remember what it is, how do I know you haven't already exceeded it? Tonight was amazing.”

“Trust me, we haven't traded in fair yet. We can do better because… it’s important to me that you remember tonight—and me—forever.” Jooheon smiles at her then, but it’s different than those other flamboyant smiles. This one is gentle and sincere.

“There’s no way I could forget,” she admits shyly.

He looks dubious, but he nods and offers his hand as he opens the VIP box door, too. “Let me see to it then.”

The moment Mariam’s hand slips into his, the ringmaster’s demeanor changes. He’s been the consummate showman all night, but he’s narrowed that influence of his tremendous power to her and her alone. The big top hasn’t changed, but as he leads her to the center of the ring, it’s all much more intimate now.

Jooheon squares up to her and smiles, this time with the faintest hint of a lip bite. His thumbs rub reassuringly over the back of her hands as he takes one step closer.

“We're going to make you the star of our show.”

#monsta x smut #le cirque du fantasme #october vibes #jooheon smut #minhyuk smut #changkyun smut #third person #trilogy

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