#like... her tone of voice becoming more sharp and slightly higher / possibly narrowing her eyes at them depending on HOW angry she is at-
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i know no one necessarily asked for this information, but yes, it is true that whenever bunny mask is angry with someone... that her hair fluffs up like a cat's. or, alternatively, like a studio ghibli characters (LOL). i just think that despite her mask covering most of her face that she still manages to be SO expressive most of the time, to the point where it's almost uncanny, and this is one of the ways that bunny is okok
#SOMETHING FEELS AMISS: musings.#LET ME TEACH YOU: headcanons.#no but... i just imagined this SO vividly in my head and now i have to make it a thing because it would absolutely add more to her character#because it would kind of be a way to explain a bit how people may be able to tell if she is angry with someone besides more obvious signs-#like... her tone of voice becoming more sharp and slightly higher / possibly narrowing her eyes at them depending on HOW angry she is at-#them ofc. i just think that bunny mask deserves to be both endearing and terrifying sometimes okok LOL
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Never Far Away - Chapter Eleven
Trauma is Triggered
Prologue | One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | x
*✭˚・゚✧*・゚*✭˚・゚✧*・゚* *✭˚・゚✧*・゚*✭˚・゚✧*・゚* *✭˚・゚✧*・゚*✭
They sat facing away from each other on a park bench while fluttering fall-leaves fell around them. To be honest, Kagome was as speechless as her companion at the current moment. She had no idea how to begin, or what to ask, or even what to say. So many things bothered her on so many levels, it was all so confusing.
“Your silence says that you have many questions,” Sesshomaru finally said, his voice as monotone as ever.
She didn’t answer him right away, dipping her chin down to rest on her chest as she tried to think of a good way to start the conversation that didn’t start with the words ‘what the hell’?
This time it was the white-haired male to remain silent, his own body language showing confusion. In his own mind, he tried to go over time and time again the moment he had been around others while he teleported. None could follow him once he disappeared into a flurry of power and tendrils of steam. It wasn’t possible. Not even youkai or daiyoukai could follow where he went…
Neither could the dead.
“Would it be easier for me to ask what exactly you are, if not an Inu?” the miko began softly, her eyes still cast to the ground.
“Not entirely,” he sighed, folding his hands neatly one over the other as he contemplated the question. “I myself have only come to this conclusion in the past four hundred years. It took this one at least a century to understand.”
The crowd around them seemed to add ambience to their conversation. There was laughter and good cheer. Vendors tried to sell their wares while children and young adults flocked around the stands, ogling all sorts of goods for sale. With all the chipper attitudes, it made their conversation seem nearly satirical, a not-so-serious thing even though it was. The both of them felt it, shifting slightly to look each other in the eyes. It was as if they were having a normal conversation between two normal people. As if things could be normal between them.
“Perhaps...a better start might be when did this happen?” She reached out, almost touching the soft bangs of his silvery hair before remembering that he was no ordinary man. That he could cut off her offensive hand with just a stroke of his will. Instead she decided to gesture roundly, making a circular motion to point to all of him. It was better, she figured, than out-right touching him without his permission.
He gave her a suspicious look, his delicate eyebrows arching slightly, one raised higher as he acknowledged the fact that she almost went through with her first action.
Smiling sheepishly, Kagome shoved her hands into the pockets of her sweater, trying to keep the skin in her hands warm.
“It began,” he finally conceded, his breath exhaling in a short puff of frozen air when it escaped his lips. “Thirty years after your departure, this Sesshomaru supposes, from our time to return to yours.”
“Thirty?” She echoed.
“Indeed,” Sesshomaru nodded. “Rin had already matured into a woman, and your idiot hanyou companion had started his path to become a strong youkai like our father.”
Blinking, the girl double took. He would have never acknowledged his relation to Inuyasha through their father willingly. At least not in the past. Had five hundred years really changed him enough to do such a thing? It seemed impossible. Although, he had hated humans once too, and presumably talking, but now here he sat holding a conversation with her.
“So...what started everything?” She questioned.
“An uprising between the North, East, and South lords,” he sighed, eyes narrowing and pupils growing raged. “They betrayed both this one and the hanyou. Through some sort of black magic they controlled him and exiled myself. It was a dishonorable act they committed.”
A hatred-filled quiet settled down upon him. And now looking at him, the young miko could see something in the way Sesshomaru carried himself. It seemed as though he had a yoke upon his shoulders, burdening him. Suddenly she realized it wasn’t just his hair that made him seem old; he was old. He was old and troubled by some sort of obstacle from four hundred and seventy years ago.
“How could they banish the great Sesshomaru?” She asked, trying to lace a bit of humor in her tone to lighten the mood. “He was too stubborn to budge from his western lands.”
There was a cruel smile on his face and he snorted. He actually snorted.
“That was what they needed Inuyasha for.”
A pit in her stomach formed and she felt for just a moment her voice drop into her belly with a worried sickness. “Why was that?”
“To cast this one into the Meido.”
She felt even more sick now, a nausea sweeping through her mind. “How long...how long were you stuck there?”
A wistful smile pained his lips. “Fifty years.”
A rush of terror swept through her at that moment. Memories of being trapped in the unending darkness, with only the taunting voice of the jewel filled her senses. Her hands flew to her throat and she found that she couldn’t breathe. Tears filled her eyes, and the cold salted water trickled down her cheeks to the corners of her mouth where they stained the edges of her lips. She had been trapped there for only a few hours, a day at most. It had been hell. She had wanted to beg the jewel for Inuyasha to rescue her. To beg that he come to her when she needed him most. But she could not have made that wish. Thanks to fate, he had been able to rescue her. To save her and kiss away all her fears like she had prayed he would. But Sesshomaru.
Sesshomaru.
She fell from the bench, her breath rushing from her lungs as the icy touches of the Meido clenched her skin. Thousands of pins and needles poked at her pores as the frozen nothingness trapped her, trying to eat her away, to try and send her into despair. She had barely been able to last the time that she was in the damned black hole, saved only by her love for the hanyou. She gasped and tried to suck in the air that she needed.
She was safe.
She was in the normal world.
The softness of something beneath her head brought her back slowly, and she opened her eyes, the world’s spinning finally slowed down. She fell back into reality, realizing that she had relapsed. Her time stranded in the Meido because Naraku had pushed her in still triggered her from time to time. The attack this time had not been so bad.
When she looked up, she realized that she was staring at the underside of a sharp jaw looking away from her, the gentle Canadian breeze sifting through the strands of his short hair. His gold eyes looked upwards, their memory seemingly far away and elsewhere. It took Kagome a few seconds to realize that her head was pillowed on the softer part of his lap. While his hands remained on her shoulders as if to steady her. Had this been any normal time, she would have screamed and pushed the once was youkai away. But instead, she watched him, memorizing every detail of his newer, more humanized form—trying to remember the demon that had been there instead. It was so different from what she had remembered. So un-Sesshomaru like.
Did he become this way because there was no love to have rescued him from the pit of the Meido? He must have been stuck in the stifling solitude of the darkness, hearing the whispers of how unwanted he was, for so long.
#sesskag#sesshomaru x kagome#inuyasha#au: goblin the lonely and great god#angst#sesshomaru#kagome higurashi#i'm moving posting time to a little earlier in the afternoon#and the plot finally begins hooray#it only took eleven chapters huhuhu
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The Awakening (part 4)
Summary: After the conversation in his office took a personal turn, Adrian and Amy take their time to reflect on the events of the past.
Warning: There is no warning for this chapter, though it had me on the edge of my seat whilst I was writing this so urm... There is a bit of angst!
Author’s Note: This fanfic is the fourth instalment of this series and has been one that has been ‘in the works’ for a while - I was unsure as to how long it was going to take me to write this chapter, as I became rather busy and was unsure as to where I was going to take this chapter. I had a couple of ideas... but I wasn’t completely ‘sold’ on either of them. However, when writing the first part I suddenly had an awesome idea that might possibly have a MAJOR impact on the rest of the story so you’ve been warned!
Pairing: Adrian x MC
Tagging: @queerchoicesblog @nk-writes @ifyouseekheart @femmeshep @strangerofbraidwood @shelley-parah @galaxyside-0 @itlivesbeneath @begging-for-kamilah @flyawayboo @nobounderiesplease @momentarilyhere
Continued from Part Three...
After their brief meeting with Kamilah, Adrian and Amy return to the sanctitude of his penthouse. As Amy enters, she focuses her attention on her surroundings; the open-plan room is darker than usual, heavy drapes drawn across the floor-to-ceiling windows as the night draws softly into day. There was little light in the apartment, though Amy was able to see the sun rise from across the horizon through the gaps in the curtains, its orange hue glistening brighter as the sun climbed higher in the morning sky.
The pair remain silent for a while, their gazes fixated on their darkened surroundings as they ponder over the events of the past few hours. Before long, Adrian speaks, his voice no louder than a hushed whisper.
‘It’s almost dawn,’ he sighs, reaching up to remove his tie, ‘we need to try and get some rest before this evening.’
‘And what is happening this evening?’
‘That’s a matter for later,’ he cups her face in his hands, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead, ‘right now, we should rest.’
An hour passes, and the pair soon find themselves winding down in one another’s company. After changing into her pyjamas, Amy re-enters Adrian’s bedroom, leaning against the door as her eyes dart to the four corners of the room; it is tidier than usual, all four walls illuminated by candlelight. Adrian is sat on the bed, his professional attire replaced with a pair of grey pyjama bottoms as he reads through a document, his attention never straying from the paperwork before him.
She gestures to the candles, her eyebrows knitted with confusion.
‘What’s with all the candles?’
He continues to read, his attention never leaving the paper.
‘I thought that you might like a change of ambience.’
‘Well, it’s lovely.’
He glaces up at her, his eyes training on the curves of her body as the flames covered her skin with an orange glow. He doesn’t realise how much time has passed until Amy speaks, breaking him out of his trance like state after she realises that he is staring.
‘What is it?’
‘You are...’ he pauses for a moment, his eyes boring into hers as he continues, ‘so very beautiful...’ he inhales sharply, his lips curving into a fond smile, ‘you know that, don’t you?’
She returns his gaze, her brown doe-like eyes reflecting the candlelight as she edges closer to him, her head tilted to the side. She narrows her brows, her mouth slightly agape as she tries to think of a response. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Of course it is,’ he whispers, patting the empty space beside him as he beckons for her to come closer. 'Am I not allowed to tell the woman I love that she is exquisite?’
Amy smiles warmly at him, wandering over to the bed. ‘Well yes...’ she edges closer, crawling across the bed to rest beside him, ‘but not like that.’
‘Like what?’
She reaches forward, tracing soothing patterns on his skin with her fingertips before taking his hand in hers. ‘Like you’re saying it for the last time...’ she hesitates for a moment, their eyes meeting once more.
‘You know that you can talk to me, right?’
‘I....’ he pauses, unsure as to how he should continue. After some time, he sighs defeatedly, turning his face away from her, ‘I can’t... not this.’
‘Why not?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he mumbles, each word more emotionless and vague, ‘I don’t want to burden you with it.’
She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, her eyes travelling up to focus on his face; his expression is stoic, yet Amy can’t help but feel slightly unnerved by his utterance. The bridge of her nose crinkles as she forces herself to concentrate harder on the features of his face, though it isn��t long before she notices it; his eyes were wider than usual, his once calm facade replaced with one of hesitancy and caution. She watches him for a moment, her face blanketed with concern before she speaks, her voice soft and weary.
‘You’re afraid...’ she whispers quietly, ‘aren’t you?’
He turns away from her, wrapping one arm around his knees as he brings them closer to his chest. He doesn’t respond for a while yet, as Amy opens her mouth to apologise, he meets her gaze, responding to her question with a subtle nod.
He was afraid.
She frowns, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on his bare skin. ‘Why?’ she presses forward, one hand resting at the nape of his neck, ‘you’ve fought vampires in the past you...’ she hesitates for a moment, ‘you defeated Vega - ’
‘I know...’
‘Then what is it?’ she retorts hastily, ‘why are you so afraid?’
He sighs, turning his head slightly towards her as he speaks, his eyes fixated on her other hand as it curls itself gently around his wrist. ‘My maker he...’ he gulps, trying desperately to clear his throat,‘he isn’t like any other vampire; he was one of the first of my kind and his power it...’ he exhales sharply, ‘it was like no other I have ever seen.’
‘I don’t follow...’
‘He was dangerous, Amy,’ he meets her gaze, turning her hand over in his. He looks at it for a moment, his fingertips skimming her palm before turning his attention back to her.
It was then that she felt a sharp pain.
‘Adrian...’
‘He was never one for emotions or kindness; he manipulated us, exploiting our weaknesses so that we would be a means to an end.’
His voice deepened, and Amy was able to sense that something wasn’t quite right with him. With every word that he spoke, the pain became more severe.
‘Adrian?’
‘He was ruthless and sadistic; he didn’t care for anyone or anything besides himself and his pathetic little kingdom!’
The voice that was once gentle and soft had changed, replaced with a stern, violent tone. She meets his gaze, her sad eyes widening as she realises the severity of the situation; his expression darkened as he stared at her, his nostrils flaring as his brown eyes fade into crimson.
‘Adrian!’
‘What!’
‘You’re...’ she gasps, her eyes glistening in the light as a tear fell down onto her cheek, ‘you’re hurting my arm...’
His hand had tightened around her wrist, his fingers leaving purple marks across her fair skin. Within seconds, he has released her from his grasp, his once terrifying demeanor replaced with a look of horror as his eyes bore into hers.
‘Amy I...’ he glances back down at her arm, the purplish skin fading back to its usual colour, his voice fearful and panicky, ‘I’m so sorry I...I never meant to hurt you I...’
Her breathing is ragged as she tries to soothe herself, a couple of fresh tears staining her cheeks. He reaches towards her, cupping her face in his hands as he presses his forehead against hers, his voice soft and gentle as he whispers to her.
‘I am so, so sorry I...I don’t know what came over me.’
He wipes at her tears with his thumbs, his hands trembling as he runs his fingers through her golden hair. As his palms reach the base of her neck, she flinches. He watches her wearily, his eyes widening in shock as he realises how much this has affected her.
‘I...are you...are you alright? Amy, are you...?’
She presses her palms to her temples, her fingers becoming entangled in her hair, ‘I’m okay,’ her breathing is a lot calmer, though Adrian is still able to sense a hint of fear in her hushed voice, ‘I’m okay Adrian, honestly...’
He leans into her, his arms constricting around her body as he presses a panicked kiss to her forehead, his hands skimming over her shoulders as she nestles her face into his chest, her salty tears trickling onto his bare skin, ‘you know that I wouldn’t...’
He closes his eyes for a moment, inhaling sharply as he tries to rein in his anger. It isn’t long before he removes himself from around her, reaching over to collect a white t-shirt from his dresser.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I need some air,’ he pauses, peering over his shoulder at her as he retrieves his shoes, ‘please don’t wait up for me.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘It doesn’t matter, I just can’t stay here a moment longer...’
‘Adrian you... you don’t have to leave -‘
‘Don’t I!?’ He turns to face her, pulling his t-shirt over his head. He irons out the creases with his fingers as it falls over his torso, ‘I hurt you, Amy; I can’t stay here whilst I pose a threat to your safety.’
‘Adrian...’ she edges towards him, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, ‘just think about this, please!’
‘I have thought about it! You saw how bad I got I... I wasn’t myself and every second I spend with you I am putting you in more danger.’
‘No you’re not I -’
‘Stop,’ he holds up his hand, as if he is pleading for her to remain quiet, ‘I can’t do this right now I...’ he meets her gaze, wiping at his eyes as he tries so desperately to stop the tears that threaten to fall.
‘I can’t.’
Adrian makes his way towards the door, throwing his jacket over his shoulder as he opens it. He remains there for a moment, his face lowered, before he lifts his gaze to meet hers once more.
‘Don’t follow me.’
‘What?’
A brief silence encompasses the room as they look at one another, though it isn’t long before it is broken.
‘I said don’t follow me.’
‘No!’ She bolts upright, trailing behind him as he leaves the room and exits the apartment, ‘Adrian!’
However, before she is able to follow him into the elevator, the doors close before her, leaving her alone in the corridor.
Amy remains in the corridor for a moment before she returns to the penthouse; within seconds, she takes a seat on the couch, her mind racing with the remnants of her thoughts.
What the hell just happened?
She cups her head in her hands, trying desperately to recall if there is anything that he said that could give away his location, but there is nothing. She removes her phone from the inside of her pyjama pocket, pressing it against her forehead before typing a new message, hastily hitting the send button.
Her hand clasps around her mouth, her frail fingers pressing on her lips as she holds back a sob, her body trembling as she tries her hardest to prevent herself from breaking down. She focuses on her breathing for a while, closing her eyes as she tries to regain her composure, her phone pressed against her forehead once more. After some time, she opens her eyes, lowering her phone to her chest. She turns it over in her hand for a while before she begins to dial a number, lifting the device to meet her ear.
It rings for a moment, but it isn’t long before a woman answers, her voice riddled with weariness as she begins to question the mortal.
‘Amy?’
It’s Kamilah.
‘Kamilah...’ she clears her throat, ‘are you still at your office?’
‘No I went back to my apartment, is everything alright?’
‘Urm...not exactly, no.’
Kamilah sighs, and Amy can sense the concern in her voice as she responds.
‘What happened?’
‘I don’t really know how to explain it but there’s...’ Amy hesitates for a moment, her lips parting to release a breath that she felt like she had been holding forever.
‘I think there’s something wrong with Adrian.’
#choices: stories you play#playchoices#choices bb#bloodbound#adrian raines#adrian x mc#adrian x amy#the awakening series#part four#kamilah sayeed
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Serendipity (it’s written in the stars)
A/N: Hi I’m back this is a thing i wrote requested by @tydontstop hope you like it (it might be horrible but thats me) check out my masterlist some time
Pairing: Ten x g!Reader
Summary/Prompt: You’re tired of the pressure from your mother to find a date for a party. When you storm away, you don’t expect to actually find one.
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Suggestive, Escort!au
Word Count: 26.1k
Warnings: Swearing, Depression themes, Suggestive?
Have fun.
--
“Ma, we are not going through this again.” You walked into the kitchen, a stew bubbling on the stove. You washed out a spoon and began mixing it, trying to let the salt and the spices distribute evenly. “I couldn’t care less about it.” The door slammed open. She had clearly followed you in, and wasn’t happy that you had walked away from her.
“We are going through this, and you’re going to listen,” she said sternly, snatching the spoon from you (‘the stew,’ you protested) and forcing you to look at her. “How can you not even care about your brother’s product launch?” You watched helplessly as two drops of stew dripped down the spoon and landed on the tiled floor.
“I hardly even know anything about the product, except that it’s a…phone? It’s a phone, right?” you raised your voice, intending for your brother Changmin, who was seated in the dining room, to hear.
“Yeah!” he called back.
“Ma, I’ve never paid any attention to what he’s told me,” you explained again, as patiently as you could. “What earthly use could my presence serve?”
“What use?” she exclaimed, waving her hands in exasperation. A drop of stew landed on her shirt and she wrinkled her nose, finally setting the damn thing down. You scooped it up and began stirring again. “How can a member of our family be absent for such an important event in our establishment?”
You sighed, pushing your haywire hair away from your face. Since when am I a member of this family? “I’ve never been part of your conferences, Ma. Why does it matter that I show up for this one?”
“Those are different! Those aren’t important!” She fidgeted uncomfortably, first placing her hands on the granite kitchen counter, then on her hips, then crossing her arms. “This is a major achievement.”
“She’s trying to set you up with one of her friends’ sons,” your brother informed you loudly from the room next door.
“Changmin!” she exclaimed.
You stared at your mother disappointedly. “So that’s what this is about, huh?” She looked only slightly guilty. “Is this your idea of getting me a marriage proposal?”
“Well, what’s wrong in that?” she tried to defend herself. “You don’t have anyone to take with you as a date, so why not one of them? There’s no harm in at least meeting them.”
“Ma, I told you I’m not interested in going,” you said firmly. “And even if I was going, it wouldn’t be with any douchebag you recommend.”
“They’re all very nice young men,” she claimed, indignant. “Don’t insult them before you meet them.”
“I have a friend you might be interested in,” your brother piped up, entering the kitchen and placing his brand new phone gingerly on the island. You whirled around in fury.
“Et tu, Min-ah?”
“Don’t call me that,” he growled.
“Then stay out of my business,” you retorted, equally fierce. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your mother open her mouth and you held your free hand up. “Can all of you just shut up? I’ve made my decision.” You turned back to the task at hand.
A sharp exhale sounded in the kitchen. You already knew what was going to—
“Such an odd child, you are!” she said, fake grief evident in her tone. She was preparing herself to launch into her ‘black sheep of the family’ speech that you had heard only too often. “Great-grandfather a businessman, both grandparents businesspeople, both parents in the business, every uncle and aunt and cousin someway or other part of industry, your own brother in a successful position. And you? Studying how to read and write! Of all things, literature? I can’t imagine what possible use you have with getting that degree. You used to enjoy playing CEO with your brother when you were younger; your father’s always taught you to calculate the profits and losses from the figures in the office; I don’t know what happened to you. Such a disgrace! People are already asking when you’ll be joining the business, what on earth do I tell them?”
“You can be my secretary,” Changmin offered.
“You wish, Min-ah.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“Then shove off. Ma,” you turned away from him, “you just tell them that I won’t be joining. It’s not really that difficult.”
“Not that difficult?!” She laid a hand over her chest. “What will people say when they hear that you’ve been learning English, oh I don’t know…”
You had heard enough. Dropping the spoon and letting it sink into the stew, you turned and abruptly left the kitchen, through the front door, slamming it behind you, thrust into the cool night air. You had only one place in mind. The bridge.
You walked along the dark street, lit only by weak lampposts that cast a circle of orange beams onto the road. The night was quiet, save for a few vehicles every now and then. You supposed most people were sleeping peacefully after a shitty Monday at work. Good for them. You wished you could knock yourself out like that.
A gust of cold wind stung your nose and ears, and you brought your icy hands up to your face, breathing on them and rubbing at your ears. Which didn’t help much. You had burst out of the house too angry and irritated that you forgot a jacket. Bitterly regretting that now, you pressed forward, knowing that the bridge would calm you. Cursing at every bit of moving air that came your way, you finally reached the long beam bridge that spanned over a kilometre across the river. The bridge was equipped on both sides with footpaths and the tarred road in between. You stepped onto it, making your way to the middle of the bridge. There were few people out at this time of night, mostly loners or couples. The traffic on the bridge was higher than down your own road, probably because it was a highway that curved out of sight before you reached your house.
You stared out at the river, hands shoved in your pockets. The wind was stronger up here, but suddenly, you didn’t seem to mind. The lights illuminating the bridge and the headlights of the cars shed some of its glow onto the water. Farther out on the horizon, the moon’s reflection shimmered on the ripples.
The scene was serene and calm, but you were anything but. Without even knowing it, too occupied in fuming internally at your mother and brother, you stepped up on the cement ledge from which the metal railing emerged, so you could prop your arms up on the railing, ignoring the sting of the cold. You were gripping the rail so tightly that your knuckles turned pale. You breathed deeply, closing your eyes and allowed the scene to seep into you. When you opened them again, you felt much better.
For the next few minutes, you gazed out at the water. That is, until you felt someone’s eyes on you. You slowly tilted your head to the side.
A young man, casually dressed, cap over his head and hands in his jacket pockets, was staring intently at you, expression fearful. His eyes darted everywhere—to your hands, to your feet, to your face. He dropped his gaze hastily, but you weren’t about to let that go.
“Can I help you?” you asked in a normal voice that sounded quite unnaturally loud in the now still air. He flinched, and took a step back, shaking his head.
“Oh…” He adjusted his cap (a nervous gesture, you noticed). “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—“ He swallowed. “You just…looked like you were going to jump, so…”
His words surprised you. Glancing down at your clenched hands and your feet on the ledge. Your expression must have been troubled, too. He was right—it did look like you were going to jump. You carefully stepped down from the cement and released your hold on the railing. He visibly relaxed.
“I wasn’t—“ your voice came out rough and thick. Clearing your throat, you tried again. “I wasn’t going to jump. I just…had a lot on my mind. I guess.”
“Oh. Okay.” He tugged at his cap again. “I was just worried.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “If I turn around now, you still wouldn’t jump, right? I can trust you?”
You’ve never had someone so concerned about your mental health like this before, other than some fleeting ‘are you okay’s when you seemed down in class. Most of the people you knew would have just let you jump and walk away as if they had seen nothing. Why is he so worried about me?
All you had to do was say ‘yes, I promise I won’t jump’, but instead you replied, “Why would you care?”
He tilted his head, looking confused. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Why wouldn’t I?” The corner of his mouth curved in a funny yet sad little smile. “There’s nothing you can’t solve.”
You scoffed, already thinking that this person was about to go into a typical ‘life is worth living’ monologue. You really didn’t want to hear it. “I wish.”
“No, I’m serious.” He took off his cap, shook out his hair so it fell back in place and then put it back on. You guessed it was a little quirk of his. “Even if it’s waiting until everyone forgets it, or even running away, there’s a solution.” He gazed down fearfully at the water. “After today, I should be the one jumping, but as you can clearly see, I’m not.”
You tried your best to stay aloof, to seem like you weren’t slowly becoming invested in this conversation; half of you wanted him to leave you alone, but the other half wanted you to ask. So you did. “Why? What happened?”
He seemed more than willing to tell you. “I lost my job today. I’m not even completely sure why. A few of us got fired, it might have something to do with the merger. I don’t know.” He shrugged. “If I don’t find another one, I’m going broke by the end of the week.”
Ouch. That must have been a blow. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
He waved the sentiment away. “Nah. Don’t be. The world hasn’t ended. I’ll wake up tomorrow and find a way.” He turned to you, leaning an elbow on the railing. “Are you okay, though?”
Is he not going to let me go until I tell him exactly what’s wrong with my life? I don’t think so. You twitched uncomfortably. “I’m okay. Just. Family issues. Fighting and stuff.”
He winced and nodded sympathetically. “That sucks. Those are the worst.” He let out a breathy chuckle as if he’d just remembered something funny. “Incredible how much we feel like slamming the people we love the most into a wall.”
He had described your feelings perfectly. “Exactly!”
“You want to talk about it?” He shifted his cap again and you fought the urge to smile, proud at having noticed it. “Might make you feel better.”
“Maybe I’ll pass.” You had no intention of telling a random passer-by your life story.
He held up his hands. “As you wish. But I’m just a nameless stranger; it would be just like shouting into the void.”
You spared him a small smile. “I’d really rather not.”
It was getting late. You realized gradually that the lights in the distance were shutting off one by one and that the traffic had decreased behind the two of you. You checked your watch. It was a little after ten and not at all a reasonable time for you to be out. “I’d better leave, it’s late.” A sharp gust of wind blew. Without the conversation to distract you, you shivered. He noticed.
“No wonder you’re cold, you came outside wearing just that?” You glanced down at yourself, only now aware that you were wearing the almost sheer silky night shirt you reserved for home. At least you weren’t wearing the matching pants. Without them, it looked like any casual shirt. He didn’t seem to understand it was a pyjama shirt, or you would have been more embarrassed than you were.
“I—forgot. To bring my jacket.”
“Well, shit, here,” he said, already shrugging his own jacket off his shoulders. “Borrow mine.”
You shook your head, alarmed and brought your hand up to signify to him that he didn’t need to take it off. “No! It’s okay. I mean—my house isn’t, like, too far from here.”
He paused, his jacket dangling off one sleeve. “I could walk you home, then. It is pretty late.”
You denied him again. “It’s honestly okay. I’m sure I can find my own way home.”
He still looked a little worried, but relented. “Suit yourself.”
You tapped the railing uncertainly and then took a step away. “Yeah. So. Um, good night? I guess.” He nodded, smiling gently and returned the parting message. You stuffed your hands in your pockets as best you could without trying to look like you were cold. You turned away from him and jogged down your side of the bridge back to land. You paused, briefly, debating whether to turn and look back at him? but you decided against it. That would be weird. He’s interesting, but that’s it. That’s all he is—a subject to analyse from a literature major’s point of view.
You let yourself in through the gate quietly, smiling innocently at the disgruntled security guard, viewing with satisfaction that the upstairs lights were off. So your mother had apparently gone to bed. Early birds, all of them. Exactly the opposite of you. As you crunched your way over the fallen leaves up the pathway to the door, you saw that the carnations planted by the broken cement tiles were close to drying up. You made a mental note to fix that issue the next day.
You tried the door and found it open. You tried to close it (keyword: tried) gently behind you, wincing when it creaked. A sudden bark from the hallway made the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You placed a hand over your heart.
“Jesus, Lexi, why do you do that?” Your fingers found the light switch and flicked it on. Light flooded the room. You blinked, adjusting to the brightness. A howl echoed and your husky puppy ran delightedly over to you. You wondered how much she must have whined when you left the house. You knelt. “Hey, girl.” She barked in response. “Shh. Don’t wake the house up, silly. Gave everyone a hard time?” You ran your fingers through the light grey fur behind her ears, a spot that usually made her obedient enough.
Changmin’s footsteps didn’t even startle you anymore. You stood up, a tired but enthusiastic Lexi padding around your feet.
“Go to sleep now, girl.” You nudged her in the direction of the bundle of blankets that she called her bed. Knowing better than to argue, she settled in them, placing her head on her front paws.
“The hell were you?”
“The hell you care?” And for good measure, “Min-ah.”
He swatted at you as you ducked past him to get to your bedroom.
“I went to get some fresh air,” you muttered darkly, still feeling obliged to answer him. “Get out of this stupid house.”
You grasped the handle of your room and turned it, wanting to disappear into the one space that you could be free. He pushed against the sleek wood, making sure you didn’t close it on him.
“Hey, I’m sorry I said all that when Ma cornered you.” He winced apologetically. “I’m not going to try to set you up with any of those robots. And I don’t blame you for not choosing business. When I said you could be my secretary, I wasn’t implying that you were less than me or anything, it was just a—“
You cut him off. “I know, Min.” He relaxed, seeming to know you meant it.
“Don’t, you know, get discouraged by Ma, okay?” Something moving around his calves caused him to look down. Lexi was pushing to get inside your room. He held the door open wider so she could get through. Lexi bounded inside and leapt onto the bed. “Ma never reads your stuff. You write really well, yeah? I’ll back you up there.” You turned to your desk, pretending to organize the mess so he wouldn’t see the vast array of emotions flitting across your face. “Just come to the product launch, yeah? It…” he sighed, as if showing so much emotion drained him. “It would mean a lot to me if you did.”
When would you ever see your brother so sentimental again? You gave in. “Okay. I’ll come.”
His face broke into a smile. “Great. Yeah. Thanks. You don’t even have to go to the conference and press meeting. Heck, even I don’t want to be there. Just show up at the after-party. That’s enough.” You nodded in understanding. He stood there, hesitating a moment longer, and the atmosphere broke, awkwardness settling in. Changing his mind, he gestured to your room, his voice becoming professional and bossy again. “Clean your room, for fucks’ sake. You’re such a pig.”
There it was. Back to normal. You seized a pen and chucked it hard at him. “Get the hell out.”
He swiftly closed the door before the missile hit him, the sharp ‘ping’ of plastic against wood filling the room.
…
Lexi’s weight lay heavy on the bed as you shifted every now and then, unable to sleep. The events of the day kept replaying in your head. Numerous things that you wanted to tell your mother so badly. The words your brother had meant but didn’t say. And the stranger. You realized now that you hadn’t asked his name. You could still hear him. I’m just a nameless stranger; it would be just like shouting into the void.
You weren’t going to sleep anytime soon. You lifted the heavy covers off your legs, careful not to wake Lexi. You sat at your desk, flicking the lamp on. Opening your notebook and uncapping a pen, you doodled mindlessly, writing the words nameless stranger and messing with them until the words came to you.
nameless stranger
where did you come from? where will you go?
the water beneath your feet
and the lights over your head
the smile of an angel
and words left unsaid
shoulders carrying the weight of the world
and eyes too wise for their age
earth shaking thunder hidden in a voice
a soul to soothe the gods’ rage
your story is written in the stars
mine is somewhere there too
nameless stranger
where did you come from? where will you go?
I live today for you.
...
You waited until your mother was safely out of the house, watching through your window as her expensive ass car pulled out of the driveway, before you came out of your room. You met your brother in the kitchen, where he was inhaling an apple, his other hand typing away frantically at his laptop. You didn’t announce your presence, you just stood there, watching him. He had always been like that. Like Ma. One eye always on the clock, always racing against the time.
“You’re going to choke and die,” you finally said. He didn’t even flinch.
“You’d like that, huh?” He answered with his mouth full.
“I would like it,” you agreed easily. “But I imagine your secretary wouldn’t.”
This time, just like you predicted, he choked on his bite of apple, coughing and gasping for air, eyes watering. You waited patiently for him to finish, an amused smile tugging at your lips.
“What the hell,” he protested weakly, whining at you. Pink tinged his cheeks. “Go away. Let me finish my work.”
“Gotcha.” You opened the fridge. “I also hope you get yourself some dessert, if an apple’s all your gonna eat now.”
He shut his laptop, sighing. “I have to leave.”
You saluted him. “Peace.”
You watched him shove the laptop into his backpack and sling it over his shoulder. Such a wonderful little businessman. True, you resented him when you were younger because he was the epitome of perfection and you were the one overshadowed. But you had long since put all of it behind you when you understood that your ambitions were elsewhere. But really, you couldn’t hate him. He worked so hard to get to where he was now and still people dared to say it was only because of inheritance.
You shook your head. Unfortunate.
…
After walking Lexi around a couple of blocks and then making it just in time for your afternoon class, you went to hide out in the public library, just in case your mother decided to return early. You loved the library. It was peace and quiet and books and you couldn’t imagine a better place to be. You always brought your notebook with you, penning down thoughts that randomly occur to you.
lost in a maze of books
stories old and new floating around
just out of reach
searching for a place to stay home
no sense of space or time
drowning in the weight of the past
times memory no longer serve
You frowned at the words before ripping the page and tossing in cleanly into the trash can. Sometimes the picture in your head didn’t turn out quite right.
Your eyes fell on the piece you wrote the previous night in a drowsy stupor. Again, triggered by the memory, your mind drifted to him. You wondered if he would be there today as well. Your hands only held a novel in name, your mind elsewhere. If anyone had been watching, they would have noticed that you had been stuck on the same page for over half an hour.
You woke up three hours later, your face buried in a copy of And the Mountains Echoed. Startled at the time, you hastily stood up, head spinning slightly at the sudden movement. Your eyelids were still heavy. Rubbing the sleep out of them, you left, bowing to the librarian as you passed her.
He’s not going to be there. I’m sure of it. He was only there yesterday because he wanted peace after he lost his job.
But what if he is there? Wouldn’t you like that?
No, I certainly wouldn’t. Why would I like that? I don’t even know his name.
You could ask his name tonight.
He’s not going to be there.
He might.
…Fine. I’m not going home just yet. I’m going to the bridge.
…
He was already there. You denied that you felt any sort of joy from the sight.
He grinned at you. He was wearing the same jacket that he was yesterday, but no cap. “Ecstatic, huh? That I’m here?”
You scoffed. “You wish.” You stood next to him, staring at the water. The moon was half hidden by clouds. “I just like the view.”
You felt his gaze on you. “Something on your mind today?”
“Anything on yours?” you questioned.
He shrugged, turning around to face the traffic, planting his elbows on the railing. “I went to an interview today.”
“And?”
“Didn’t get it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
You remembered that you still didn’t know his name. “What’s your name? I forgot to ask.”
He cracked up. “You want my name? Okay. Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.”
Your face fell. “Pardon?”
He couldn’t help his laughter. “It’s always the same reaction. I don’t blame you. Just call me Ten.”
“Ten?” He gave you a thumbs-up. “Why Ten?”
“Why not Ten?” he replied. “My friends gave me that name in high school.”
You sensed that he wasn’t quite willing to divulge the meaning of his nickname. Swiftly you changed the topic. “I think I’ve heard that before. Chittaphon. Oh. No,” you added, on second thought, “that’s something else. Chittagong.”
He looked confused. “What’s Chittagong?”
“It’s a movie,” you explained. “It’s also the name of a place.”
“Oh. Okay.” He fixed the fringe of his hair. You smiled to yourself.
The wind blew harder today than it did the previous night. It was already difficult to hear each other.
“What was your job?” you asked curiously, realizing you didn’t know.
“Oh, I didn’t mention?” he laughed at himself. “I’m a software engineer.”
“Damn. That’s tough.”
“No shit. I’m not telling you where I used to work, though.”
You recalled a line you had overheard your father telling a guest. “That has a lot of scope. You’ll find a job.”
He smacked his palm against the handrail suddenly. “I wish I’d had that interview today.”
“Wait, what?” You were thrown off by his statement. “You said you had one.”
“Well yeah, I went there but the secretary was rude as hell and so I…um. Might have said some things to her.”
“What did you say?”
“Uhh…” He scratched the back of his neck. “Don’t get me wrong here. I’m not, like, that guy, and besides, what I said wasn’t even all that bad.” He shook out his hair. You waited patiently. Seeing your earnest expression, he sighed. “I told her that her baby would be due early because it couldn’t stand being inside her.”
“That’s not so bad.”
He winced. “She wasn’t pregnant.”
You coughed, choking on your own spit. “Oh my gosh. Ouch.” You broke into choppy laughter.
“Yep. I got kicked out.” He stretched his arms. “Don’t think I’ll be welcome back there anytime soon.”
“Wait.” You just understood. “You got kicked out before the interview?”
He nodded. “Yep.”
“That’s not fair. What company was it?”
He wagged his finger at you. “No. I’m not naming names.”
“But—“
“Yo, drop it.” He ran his had through his hair, messing it up and then fixing it again. “It doesn’t matter.” He jerked his head towards you. “You here to let off steam?”
You shrugged nonchalantly. “I suppose so.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” You pursed your lips. He chuckled at your expression as if he recognized it.
“Still the family, huh?”
“Yeah.” It all seemed so simple, conversation with him. It was as if he knew what you wanted, not to pry, not to press you for information you didn’t want to give. But why were you so intrigued by this stranger you had met just yesterday? Maybe it was because you only had a face and a name to assign it. You didn’t know where he came from. Was he from across the bridge? For all you knew, he was a merman or something and rose out of the water to keep you company at night. Hey, that’s a nice story idea . You smiled inwardly at the idea of the young man beside you frolicking through the river with a fishtail. You didn’t really believe in all those mythical creatures, but it was fun to imagine. You were already planning the outline of the story.
“You heading home now?” His voice brought you to reality.
You checked your watch. It was a little past nine. “Why? Do you have someplace to be now?”
“No.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I was just wondering if I could walk you home.”
“Is this because you still think I’m going to vault over this bridge?” you teased.
He flushed at your tone but remained stoic. “I’m not going to regret that. Even if I was wrong. And no,” he held up a hand to make his point clear, “I offered because I’m a gentleman. Also because I don’t go to your side of the bridge often.” The sentence sounded like it belonged in a story of two people falling in love, kept apart by the border that separated their countries. You relented.
“Okay.”
The two of you walked down the near empty street, quite a relief from the crowded highway. The air was crisp and you crunched over the leaves strewn on the road. Your companion kept his eyes on everything but the ground in front of him. Is the other side so drastically different? Why does he seem like he’s never seen trees and lampposts before?
“Um.” You cleared your throat a little. “This is where I…” You gestured to the thick gates that closed off your property. He stopped in his tracks and took in the thick iron bars and carved designs of the gate; then his eyes drifted to your house and the lawn, visible through the gaps. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out.
“Damn,” he said at last. “That’s a nice ass house.” You couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped your lips. His jaw was still slack. “I guess life is better on this side of the bridge, huh?” You suddenly caught sight of movement in the security’s cabin and yanked him aside, away from the gate. He let out a sharp yelp as both of you crowded into the darkness behind the compound wall. You placed a finger on your lips. “What?” he mouthed.
You only shook your head and peered around the corner. You saw the security’s shadow at the gate; clearly he was checking to see what the sound was. You waited until his shadow had disappeared before speaking.
“The last thing I want is the security telling Ma that I showed up at the house with a boy,” you explained.
“Oh.” He gazed up at the tall compound wall. “So you’re rich?”
“No,” you replied. “My parents are. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be on the street by the end of the semester.”
He didn’t ask why and you didn’t offer any more information. “Well, I don’t dare to come any closer to the gate,” he said, glancing fearfully around the wall. “I don’t want my face on some hitlist.”
You smiled. “That’s true. Well then, I’ll get going. You should, too.”
He nodded, turning to leave, but quickly stopped. “Wait! What’s your name?”
You hesitated for a split second, biting your lip. “Y/N.”
“Will I see you tomorrow?”
“You’ll find out, won’t you?” You flipped your hair over your shoulder cheekily.
The grin was evident in his voice. “I guess I will.”
…
“Where were you?” was the first thing you heard when you let yourself in the house. You groaned inwardly. It was too early for Ma to sleep and too late for you to only be arriving home. You wished for a distraction, but none came.
“Do you have an idea what time it is?” your mother demanded.
“You stayed up for me? Aw, how sweet,” you remarked sarcastically, heading to the kitchen to grab a snack.
“Why do you come home so late? Why not just stay out?” Ma was clearly pissed about it. You sensed that she wanted another shot at the product launch debate. You heard her follow you into the kitchen. You ignored her, choosing to stick your head in the fridge. Your hunt was successful. You emerged with a sandwich.
“Great idea, Ma, I’ll do that now.” Unwrapping the plastic off it, you strolled back to the living room. “Why do you care anyway?” You sat down on the sofa next to your brother who was still working on his computer. You picked up the remote but didn’t turn the television on.
“Do you see how disrespectful she is?” your mother shrieked, addressing Changmin now. He raised his eyes tiredly to her and then to you. “I’ve never had such trouble from you!”
“Don’t do that, Ma,” Changmin muttered lowly. “Don’t say stuff like that.”
“I don’t know where I went wrong with this girl,” she continued. “Why can’t you be like the other girls?”
Oh, she really pulled that card. Your fists clenched. You originally had no intention of retaliating, figuring that she would get bored and leave. But for some reason, you couldn’t do that. Energy surged through you and you slammed the remote down on the coffee table, startling both people in the room and the dog.
“Ma, just calm down,” Changmin said immediately. “Just let it go—“
“No, Min. Let her say it. She’s right.” You stared hard at your mother, rising to your feet. “I’ve never played by your rules. I was never the daughter you wanted. I know that. You wanted me to be like the other girls, huh?” You sneered. “Like who, Ma? You mean like Lisa? and Jennie? and Dahyun? You mean like them?” Your fingers itched to throw something. “When—when I was six, you wanted me to play tea party and house all by myself. But I didn’t want to. The four of us only had playdates back then at my house or at Jennie’s. Always. You know why? Because only we had brothers.” You saw Changmin close his laptop quietly. “We didn’t play tea party; we played with Barbie’s and Dragon Ball Z action figures. We snuck out of the house to play basketball down by the middle school. Jennie broke into her brother’s PlayStation and taught us video games. You wanted me to be like them, Ma? I was like them. But you’re right.” Your voice dropped, eyes pricking. “I’m not like them anymore.”
Your mother remained tight-lipped and your brother sympathetic. “I’m not like them anymore because they stopped fighting against…everyone. Do you know why? Because they gave up on life.” You shook your head, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. “Dahyun didn’t end up in therapy because of depression caused by the flu; how stupid are you to believe that? She didn’t want to live—just like the rest of us. We’ve all thought it. She just took it further than we ever had the guts to. They aren’t…they’re not the girls I used to know, Ma. They’ve changed. They’re lifeless now. Is that what you want?” You let out a shaky breath and ran a hand through your hair.
“You’re right. I’ve never played by your rules. You gave me my life, but that doesn’t mean I’m indebted to you. That was your choice. You gave me my life, and I’m going to do damn well what I please with it. I study what I want to, and I’m going to be what I want to be—a writer.”
Your mother seemed to have found her voice at the concept of you being that. “You think you can possibly make a living out of that nonsense?”
“How would you know?” A voice asked quietly. You glanced down at your brother as your mother did.
“What did you say?” she snapped.
He looked up into her face. “I asked you how you would know,” he repeated, voice much louder. “You’ve never read a word that she’s written. She wrote one page on broken love and brought half her class and her professor to tears. She’s written about me…about you; and she’s—she’s incredible at it. You have no right to judge when you’ve never even attempted to know who she is as a person. And I can tell you, no amount of money or…or business deals can make you feel the way she does through her writing.”
You stared at him, stunned. This emotion, you thought it was only a one-time thing. You never expected him to hold your back when Ma was this way. A tear escaped your eyes.
“Don’t worry, Ma,” you said, wavering in between as you tried to speak. “Even if I lose every penny I make, even if I end up on the streets, I won’t come to you for help. Even if I’m terrible at writing, I will be happy because it’s what I want to do.” You sighed, planting your hands on your hips, exhausted. “We have this fight almost every day; aren’t you sick of it? If this is about the product launch, then I’ve already promised Min I’d be there—it means something to him. You just want to show me off and possibly get me married to some rich son of a CEO I’ve never met. I’m going to the party, but I’m bringing someone that I chose to go with. Have I made myself absolutely clear?”
Shock. Disbelief. But not acceptance on her face. She stood there unable to say anything, unable to speak as both of her children turned on her for the first time. Her hand reached out to grasp the back of an armchair, to steady herself. And then she silently left.
Neither of us spoke until we heard the faint closing of the door on the upper floor.
Changmin exhaled. “Holy shit, where the fuck did all that come from?” He let himself be absorbed by the sofa cushions. “I think the last time I saw you give someone a piece of your mind was in middle school.” You winced at the memory, cheap lockers and hallways and cafeterias flashing in front of your eyes.
“I guess I just found some confidence today.” You sank down onto the sofa again.
“That’s good,” he commented. “You could really open up more often.”
“I could say the same about you.” You inched toward him and rested your head on his shoulder. Surprisingly, he let you. “Thanks. You know. For backing me up.”
“I said I would when it comes to your writing. But,” he teased, “I can’t do anything about Ma trying to find you a boyfriend. Speaking of which,” he sat up straight, your head nearly falling into the space between his butt and the sofa, and then twisted to face you, “you really found someone to go to the party with?”
“I—“ you were cut off by Lexi’s delighted howls. You watched, amused, as she bounded over to you. You extended your hand for her, but she stopped just short of you. And then cocked her head curiously, letting out a sharp bark. “What’s the matter, baby? Come here.” Your voice soothed her and she padded closer softly. She sniffed your legs, your hands and your jacket and took a step back. Another short bark of confusion.
“What’s up with her?” Changmin narrowed his eyes. “You use another perfume or something?”
“I did, actually. Ah. Maybe that’s it.” You reached out to pet her head but she ran away. “She’ll get used to it.”
“Whatever, so you actually found a date?” He pressed further. “Don’t lie; you know you could bring your girl friends or your classmates or something, right? It would be okay.”
“I’m not lying, I swear,” you protested. “I did find a date.”
He gave you a funny look, like, ‘I-know-you’re-lying-but-I’m-playing-along-and-watching-you-as-you-make-up-these-falsehoods-that-I-will-certainly-remember-and-remind-you-of-them-as-you-crash-and-burn’. “You sure? There’s the afterparty in three days, on Friday and the retreat over the weekend. You say this person will be there for all of it?”
“He will.”
“Hmm.” You could almost see the wheels turning in his head, shifting the gears to protective brother mode. “What does this person do?”
“He’s an engineer.”
“Uh-huh. Where does he work?”
Your mind ran a blank. “He—um, I forgot to ask. I was already so impressed by the word engineer.”
“Sure you were. What’s his name?”
Shit. What the heck was his name? “I—I can’t recall it.”
He crossed his arms, looking sceptical. “You don’t know his name?”
“He doesn’t go by his name!” you exclaimed hastily. “Because it’s long. He uses a nickname.” He raised an eyebrow. You slumped in defeat. “You don’t believe me, do you?”
He shook his head. “Nope. But whatever. Even if you come alone, I don’t mind. But,” he pointed at you, “you won’t have any immunity against Mark.”
The name fell into your ears and exploded. Mark? Mark Tuan? “That’s who Ma is setting me up with? Are you fucking kidding me?”
He patted your shoulder sympathetically. “Yeah. Good luck.” Grabbing his laptop, he heaved himself off the couch and headed inside to his room. Distantly you heard him say ‘Lexi, you sleep here tonight until she gets her shit together’. You fell back against the couch, laying down fully.
Fuck. I can’t believe this. Ma is setting me up with Mark Tuan? Of all people, Mark Tuan? That’s disgusting! I can’t be in a relationship with him! I grew up with him, for Christ’s sake! I see him how I’d see Minnie. Why would Ma even consider it? I can still see him running around this house with Jackson, trying to find me when we played hide-and-seek. No, no, no! What is happening! Did he agree to this? Are we both in the dark? Maybe it won’t be so bad if both of us say no to it. Wait, but why would Ma consider it if they didn’t agree? Does Mark like me that way? Fuck.
You sat up, rubbing your temples. Great, you just gave yourself a headache. Damn. Now I have to ask Ten if he’s willing to go to the party with me? It’s going to blow up in my face, I’m sure of it. Who wants to go to a party with someone they just met? I don’t even know if he’ll show up after he’s seen my house. Will he run away? You had no idea.
…
one day
years from now,
when they find out
they will ask me
.
they will ask me
but why didn’t you tell us?
.
and to assume
that they didn’t already know
is selfish of them
.
because when I tried to get help
when I tried to explain
they brushed it off
as not real
as typical for my age
.
they made me afraid
afraid to speak again
.
so I am reduced to crying in my room
where they cannot see me
where they cannot hear me
I am not alone but I am very lonely
.
they ask why I do not spend time
with them
I am afraid to
because I have much to hide
and one wrong move
will be the end of the game
I will lose
and I am very much afraid
of what will happen if I do.
…
The next morning, you stepped into the kitchen to find—surprise, surprise—your brother actually eating a proper breakfast instead of just tossing something into his mouth and running out the door. You yawned, stomach rumbling. “Where’s Ma?”
He grinned into his cereal bowl. “Still shooketh.” You snorted. “I dunno where she is, but I—“ he glanced at the clock, “—have work to go to.” He crunched through the rest of his cereal and set the bowl in the sink just as you finished making your coffee.
“Wait, can you drop me off at campus?” you pleaded, making puppy eyes just to emphasize your point. “Pretty please. I have class in the morning.”
“That’s your own fault.” You pouted. He rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’m leaving in five minutes. Do your worst.” He grabbed his keys from the island. “I’m walking towards the door…” He made exaggerated movements with his limbs. “And now I’m in the dining room…” You gulped down your coffee as quick as you could, listening to your nemesis announcing that he was at the front door. Setting your mug in the sink, you seized your backpack and dashed through the house, catching him just as he opened his car door.
…
You didn’t see your mother all day. And you didn’t really want to. So that night, when you slipped out of the house, you felt no guilt whatsoever about it. The only thing that was clawing at your insides was the anxiety of having to ask Ten if he would be your date—if he was even there.
You got to the bridge. The night was warmer today, when just yesterday the wind had bitten your nose off. Climate issues were real. There were hardly any people around. Maybe he would only be invoked if you stood in the middle. That sounded cool, but kind of silly. You really had to write that merman story one day.
But then you were in the middle of the bridge. And no one was there. Some passers-by. But no familiar faces. You were disappointed, but had no intention of admitting that you came to see him. So, albeit with a sinking heart, you turned to gaze out at the water. Maybe he wasn’t a merman after all. Maybe he was like a spirit of the night or something of the sort. Ooh, maybe there was some conflict in the skies that your elusive companion had to interfere in. Okay, now you were just making things up. What could you do? Your mind was quite imaginative.
“Miss me?”
A voice you had grown to anticipate broke you out of your thoughts. You swivelled around, a smile on your face that you quickly hid. You were too late, though. He caught sight of your glee before you could mask it with your poise.
“No, I just came out here like I usually do.” You wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. “Admit it, you’re the one happy to see me.”
“I am,” he answered easily. “I find you intriguing.”
Honestly, what? He’s happy to see me?
“Did you think I’d run away?” he asked, hoisting himself onto the ledge. You sighed in defeat, giving up your pretention.
“Honestly? Yes.” You watched warily as he leaned far over the railing. “I thought you might have been intimidated by my family’s property.”
“Well, I won’t deny that,” he said, dropping back onto the footpath. “But the reason I stayed isn’t that. Because I don’t see an heiress standing successor to the throne when I look at you. All I see when I stand here is a girl who has problems. A girl who wants to be free from whatever’s tying her down, to be distracted. So here I am,” he spread his arms out and made jazz hands, “a distraction.” You didn’t know what to say for a solid minute. The awkwardness fell in right after he ended his sentence. He folded up his jazz hands and stared out at the water again, coughing. “Also you did imply you wouldn’t be inheriting your parents’ wealth. So yeah, I’m not after your money.”
“Um. Well, thanks. I guess.” You brushed your hair away from your face. “I’m relieved? Anyway, how’s the job front?” The topic changed back to him.
He took off his cap to adjust his hair. You noticed he wasn’t wearing his jacket. He must have thought it too warm a night. “Got turned down twice today.” He shrugged. “I think. I mean, they say ‘thank you for applying we’ll let you know’ but from their faces I don’t think they liked the look of me. Ah well, can’t blame them,” he glanced at his attire. “I look like a homeless person. Whatever.”
There followed a lull in the conversation and you figured it was time to ask him what you had come out here in the first place to ask. But why were you so nervous? This was just supposed to be a professional matter. Just business. He wasn’t your crush or anything. So just fucking ask!
“Hey.” You heard your voice say. No backing out now. “I was just wondering…would you, um, be…open to coming to a party? With me? On Friday?”
His eyebrows disappeared into his hair. He clearly wasn’t expecting that. “Are—are you asking me out on a date?” He seemed astounded. “We literally met three days ago. Am I that amazing?”
You wanted to strangle the cocky bastard, but no. You needed him. “Not exactly a date date,” you tried to explain. “It’s this thing I have to go to, and everyone expects me to bring someone as a date. But it’s okay if you don’t want to! I was…just asking…” you trailed off uncertainly. Where did your words go?
“Look,” he began in a tone that already told you he was going to decline. Your stomach clenched. “You’re gorgeous (and rich but we’re not going into that). I’m not going to believe it for a minute that there aren’t people lining up to meet you. Why settle for me? You have other options for sure.”
You thought you could detect a trace of insecurity and bitterness in his voice. “I didn’t…I didn’t say that I had no other option. Just—you’re my best option.”
His lips parted in disbelief. “Wow. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said to me this month. Anyone tell you you’re a smooth talker?” You flushed, shaking your head. “I’m flattered. I really am. And honestly I’d love to, but the thing is, I have an interview that day…when exactly is the party?”
He was going to see if he could do both—bomb the interview and crash a party. No. “I’m not asking as a favour!” you blurted out. He tilted his head in confusion. “I’ll pay you.”
A hush fell over the two of you. Strictly professional, you thought. Business means you pay.
“So let me get this straight.” He wiggled his index finger around as if he was calculating something. “You’re saying you’ll pay me to take me to a party?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. How much are we talking?”
“You can decide.”
“Whoa!” he exclaimed, holding his hands up. “Seriously?”
“Within reason,” you added quickly.
“So…fifty thousand?” Inwardly you relaxed.
“Done.”
“What?!” he yelled, the sound nearly echoing in the mostly silent sky, startling a couple who was walking by on the other footpath. “You’re joking!”
“I’m not. I mean it.”
“So you’re like…my sugar dad—mommy now?”
You wrinkled your nose. “Gross. This is a business deal. Business means you pay.” He gestured wildly as if saying ‘but still!’. “Does that mean you’re willing to come?”
“Sure. Yeah. Course I will.”
“It’s a formal event,” you explained. “Black tie. And then there’s a retreat over the weekend.”
He looked uncertain. “I’m not sure I have anything that classifies as formal.”
You assumed as much and had made some calls. “You know Havenstock?”
“That posh suit place downtown? Yeah.”
“Go there tomorrow morning. Don’t worry about anything, yeah?”
His eyes were wide. “Holy shit, you are my sugar mommy.”
“Ew, quit saying that! If anything, you’re the one doing me a favour.”
“Alright.” He smoothed the front of his shirt, already imagining what it would be like to wear a proper suit. He stuck his chin in the air. “I can act posh.”
You laughed, tugging his chin down. “And I have to go home.” It was eleven forty-five. You were super late.
“Oh!” he said enthusiastically. “I’ll walk you there.”
…
Night had fallen so thickly you could barely see where you were going once you had reached your house. Ten made a motion towards the gate, but you pulled him back, your heads accidentally bumping. You giggled.
“I can’t go in through the gate at this hour! Are you insane?” You whispered. “Nine o’clock was one thing, but midnight is another!”
“But then how will you get inside?” He kept his voice down, too.
“Follow me.” You gestured for him to follow you. Lodged in the back wall, hidden by some hydrangea bushes was an opening near the ground, sort of like a cat-flap in a door, but bigger than that. You had no clue how it got there, but you assumed it had been some kind of drainage path.
“That’s so cool,” he remarked, impressed. “And no one knows about this? That’s awesome.”
“Come on in. Step inside the house for a bit.”
He recoiled, horrified. “What? I found out your name yesterday and you’re already inviting me inside your parents’ house?”
You seized his arm to keep him from running away. “You won’t see them. I just thought you’d like to meet Lexi.”
His expression didn’t change in the slightest, even as you crawled through the gap and he followed. Another set of bushes covered the hole from the inside. “Who the heck is Lexi?”
You brought him inside. Your house was quiet and dark except for the light you always kept on in the dining room, in case someone needed a midnight drink. You slowly opened the back door that was connected to the extended kitchen, wincing whenever it creaked. But at last, the door was open and both of you were inside. The kitchen light flicked on.
Both of you flinched, caught unawares and moved as far away from the light as you could. Your gaze rested on the figure in the doorway. Changmin crossed his arms, looking at both of you in utter disapproval.
You gulped.
“Are you actually serious, Y/N?” he growled, still keeping his voice low.
Oh, boy, were you in trouble. He never used your name if he could help it.
“I didn’t think you were awake.”
“You’re bringing boys home now?” He facepalmed. “You have any clue what would happen if Ma found out? Dimwit.”
“He’s not! I didn't bring him home, I…” You sighed. “I just wanted him to meet Lexi.”
“And who is this he?” Changmin’s sharp analytical eyes rested on Ten.
“He’s my date for the party.” You saw Ten standing straighter.
“Oh, so you weren’t lying.” Your brother ran his gaze up and down. He stuck out a hand. “Changmin.”
Ten reciprocated, firmly shaking it. “Chittaphon.”
“I’m sorry?”
He cracked a smile. “I go by Ten.”
“Ten? Like, the number?”
“Yeah.”
“Hm.” You could tell that your brother was recalling everything you said about him the previous night. “How do you two know each other?”
Shit. You didn’t know how to answer that, but luckily for you, a bark resounded in the living room. The Siberian husky ambled tiredly into the kitchen, woken up by all the noise. Ten’s face lit up.
“Ten,” you said, relishing the smile on his face, “meet Lexi.”
He knelt down, almost sitting on the floor, delight unmasked. “Hi Lexi.” His voice was so gentle that it hurt your heart. Lexi paused, confused by this new addition. She avoided him and came to you, but stopped, just like she had the previous night. She sniffed you and barked. And then she sniffed him and barked in the same way. And then it dawned on you. It hadn’t been my perfume! Lexi smelled him!
“He’s a friend, Lexi, it’s okay,” you murmured, not wanting to meet your brother’s gaze. As if in confirmation, she licked Ten’s palm and allowed him to pet her, then stumbled out of his grip and barrelled into your legs with no hesitation. “Oof! You’re heavy, girl.”
As she bounced back to Ten, loving the newfound attention, you accidentally made eye contact with Changmin, just as he made the connection. He flashed you a look of horror, absolutely scandalized and you held your hands up. He pointed at Ten, then at the door, then at you and drew a line across his throat. The message was fairly clear.
“Lexi, that’s enough, girl, let the man go,” he chided, voice gentle but expression hard.
“Such a little hoe,” you teased. “Already drooling over him, huh? He has to go back home, okay, girl? We can see him some other time.” You managed to pry her off him. Ten stood up, bowing to your brother.
“Good night, Changmin-ssi,” he greeted, ever so polite. “Bye, Lexi.”
“I’ll walk you out,” you offered.
…
“What did he mean, you weren’t lying?” Ten questioned you as you snuck him back to the opening in the wall.
Ouch. “I kind of told him yesterday that I had a date to bring.”
“Wait, before asking me?” He knelt at the bush. “What if I said no?”
“I’d go alone. Or maybe I wouldn’t go.”
He nodded, deep in thought. “Where are your parents?”
“Dad’s away on a business trip. Ma,” you gestured to the house, “is probably sleeping.”
“Ah. Good night, then.” He parted the bushes with his hands.
“Take care.” Once he had squeezed through safely, you turned toward the house, thinking of what to tell your brother to convince him that no, you were not sleeping with Ten and in fact, had no plans to.
…
You couldn’t see anything in the dark. You could only hear the rustling of sheets, heavy breathing that wasn’t your own. Silk against your legs and chills touching you in places that should be covered. You smelled perfume that wasn’t yours. You couldn’t move. You were hyper-aware of your surroundings, but you just couldn’t see anything. Footsteps. Breathing. You remained as still as possible. And then ice-cold fingers digging into your thigh, and the terrified scream ripped from your throat masking the deep derisive laugh in the background, and then someone shouting your name, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…
“Y/N! Y/N! Wake up, idiot!”
You shot bolt upright, gasping. Your eyes burned as the light hit them. Covering your face with your hands, you tried to remember where you were. In class. Fuck.
“Hey, are you okay?”
You opened your eyes carefully, viewing an empty classroom in front of you, save for your friend who always sat next to you. You must have fallen asleep.
“What—what time is it?” You lurched to your feet, the room still spinning. She reached out an arm to steady you.
“It’s four. Class is over.” You stumbled to the door. “You sure you okay? Should I drive you home?”
You waved aside her offer. “Thanks for waking me up. I can find my own way home.” You didn’t want to admit that you were extremely disturbed by the dream you just had. You just needed some time alone to sit and think.
What the heck had that been? The fear that gripped you in the dream still hadn’t been lost completely. You sensed that you knew what it meant. Is that what this is? Am I afraid of trusting Ten? Is that it? Am I scared that he would use me if I opened up to him? What on earth was I thinking, inviting him to a party, to my own house? He could be a murderer for all I know!
You sighed, burying your head in your arms. I am running on thin ice here, just waiting for it to break.
…
That night, your meeting was brief and earlier than usual. You exchanged phone numbers a little too late. He recounted his awe at the Havenstock and that they refused to tell him the amount the suit cost.
“So you’re wearing a dress? What colour is it?” he demanded, eager to know.
“You’ll see,” you replied mysteriously. He pouted.
“But aren’t we supposed to match?”
You scoffed. “What is this, high school prom?”
“Ah. You’re right.” A bitter little smile danced across his lips. “I never went to prom.”
“Really? Neither did I.” Even you were surprised by how much you had in common.
“How come?”
“Chicken pox.”
“Ouch. That’s horrible. I had the flu.”
“Prom is overrated anyway.”
“True.”
“Ah. Hey, I have to leave soon. My dad’s back home.”
“Oh, I can walk—“
“No!” You begged. “Please don’t be a gentleman today. I don’t want to know what happens if my dad hears that I sneak out at night to talk to you.”
A mix of emotions crossed his face. “Okay, first, I agree that I don’t want to get on your dad’s bad side. Two, I knew you came out here just to see me.” He shot you a creepy derp smile. “And three, but your brother already knows though?”
“Don’t worry about Minnie,” you reassured him. “He’s doesn’t snitch on me.”
You saw him mouth the word Minnie. “Good night, then. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”
“I’ll pick you up. Text me your address.” You waved your phone in the air. He gave you a thumbs up. You stuck out your hand. “I’m glad to be doing business with you.” He smirked, shaking yours. As your fingers drew apart, you were struck by your dream. His fingers were warm. They couldn’t possibly turn into those icy cold ones…could they?
…
and all I could feel
was the heat
coursing through every cell of my body
the heat of fury
and forced desire
and the taste of fear on my tongue
dissolved the words stuck in my throat
a cry for help
and regret
I should have just kept my mouth shut
in the first place.
…
You tucked the final piece of your hair into place.
Your heart was in your throat, jaw aching with anxiety. You had no idea why you were so nervous—this wasn’t your first formal party. True, you hadn’t been to one in quite a while. But still! This wasn’t such a nerve-wracking scene.
“Get yourself together, Y/N,” you whispered firmly. “Business.”
Your fingertips brushed over the stones set in your earrings. Diamonds. You weren’t fond of them. You generally disliked the extravagance that a lot of rich people exhibited, but you let tonight be an exception. You were going to take as much advantage of your parents’ money as you could before you left after your finals.
You stood up, hands running over your dress, giddy at its silky smoothness. The burgundy shade of the gown, coupled with a matching shade of lipstick, gave you a look of maturity and confidence. The thin straps that held the dress up curved downward, just barely dipping into your chest. A thin silver chain bearing a diamond pendant lay on your sternum, accentuating your collarbones. Subjectively speaking, you were nervous about it all. Objectively speak—
Ding. Dong.
You jumped, scared out of your wits. Who the heck is here now?
You stepped carefully down the stairs. The light was left on in the living room, but the house was empty except for you. You trusted that the security wouldn’t let anyone in without confirming their identity.
You cautiously unlocked the door and peeked outside.
Your mouth fell open.
“Hey.” How did he sound so casual dressed like that, a cocky smirk on his face? You took in his appearance, holding the door open wider. The tailors at Havenstock certainly did their job well. His hair was brushed back, exposing his forehead. It suited him. In his hand was a rose. “Ohh, holy shit.” He just caught sight of your attire. His eyes raked down your body, taking in everything.
“I said I’d pick you up! Ah, whatever. Come inside,” you said, amused at his reaction.
He followed you in, still drooling over your change-up. “You look…um.”
“Pretty? I hope.” You gestured for him to sit.
He pondered your answer. “…Mouthwatering.”
“Wha—“ You burst into laughter. “Why are you so weird?”
“Hey, that’s a risk you took.” He handed you the rose. “I know you love it.”
You grasped the flower delicately. “I’m sure I don’t.” You gestured to his outfit. “You look really good, too. I’m not going to say something stupid like mouthwatering. What even.” He didn’t look remotely abashed. You checked your watch. “Let me just get my purse. Here—“ you tossed him the keys to your brother’s old car. “Drive. Okay?”
He nodded, his eyes hooded, biting his bottom lip. You discovered that his expression gave you butterflies.
Subjectively speaking, you were insecure about the dress. Objectively speaking, you were a total knockout.
As you ran back upstairs, you found that you weren’t worried about the dream anymore. Fuck the dream. What’s life without living it? Without a little risk? My instincts tell me to trust him. I don’t think he’s a bad person. You wanted to trust him. You were going to.
…
“Pull up here,” you instructed Ten, who pulled the car into a compound after being cleared by security. The party was in a hall at the company, fortunately, and as the neon logo of your family’s business came into view, Ten let out a whoop.
“Holy heck, SM?” He exclaimed in sheer disbelief. “That’s your company? Are you fucking kidding?”
As he parked the car, you clasped his wrist. “Don’t forget. If they ask what you do—“
“I say I’m your classmate,” he finished, remembering the pact the two of you had made the previous night over text.
“Right. If you say you’re an engineer, they’ll follow it up with a ton of questions like where you work and how much money you make. But no one gives a damn if you’re a dreamer. Since it doesn’t pay bills. Also, stay away from Jung-ssi when he’s drunk.”
“I see.” He glanced through the rear-view mirror at another couple who had exited their car parked behind yours. “You ready to go?”
You only gripped his wrist tighter. “I don’t know. I haven’t been to one of these things since the beginning of high school.”
“Wait, really?”
You nodded. “Yeah. So most of these people saw me then, and have no idea what I look like now or what I’m doing. They probably think I’m going to join the business soon.”
“So you’re going to tell them that you are?”
“No. Don’t you see?” you shook him. “This is where I can be a rebel. No one’s going to make a scene.”
“You’ll be fine. This is your zone. I’m worried that I’m going to fuck everything up.”
“Just be yourself.”
“And get judged?” he asked incredulously. “Hell, no!”
“Okay. Just—don’t go out of your way to seem rich or anything. The more lies we tell, the harder it is to maintain them.” You finally let go of him. “No one will pay much attention to us.”
He scoffed. “To me, you mean. All the attention is going to be on you. You look gorgeous.”
You didn’t blush. You swore you didn’t. The heat was just because you were stuck in the car for a while. Not because he complimented you or anything. “Yeah, but you’re the one taking me home.”
His face fell blank and then understanding washed over his features. “Oh, you meant like literally.” He fanned himself with a hand. “Phew. That sounded hotter than it should have been.”
You giggled. “Pervert.” (he made an ‘oi’ sound) “You’re going to fight the others away from me, won’t you?”
He made a fist. “Sure will. Fighting!”
“Let’s go then.”
…
You thought you would be unnoticeable and no one would pay attention to you. You thought you could slip inside, see your brother, present yourself briefly in front of your parents, completely avoid any person Ma had set up, especially Mark (when had he even come back to the city?)
The only thing you learned as you walked inside is that everyone there in your brother’s generation was starved of entertainment.
It was almost like the entrance scene of the hero in an action movie, except you didn’t have an explosion going off behind you.
Heads turned, mouths parted in surprise. Either no one was expecting you specifically to be there, or they thought you two were, in Ten’s words, mouthwatering. Speaking of whom.
You glanced slyly over at Ten to see how he was coping with the obvious attention, half-expecting him to be all sweaty and nervous. You totally underestimated him.
One hand in his pocket, another running through his hair, slight smirk in place, he looked so—there was only one word for it—cool. He looked like a man, not the boy you had come to see him as. It was all you could do to keep your jaw from dropping. He glanced over at you and winked. Winked. With that cocky grin in his face. Like he knew exactly the effect he had on everyone. Jerk.
A satisfied, confident smirk grew on your own lips as well, turning back to the people greeting you, employees in the company. You knew them. You liked to go to the office sometimes with food or drinks or with your guitar, just to cause a distraction. They were the few people in the business world that saw you as a person and not an asset. Just to make your point more clear, you linked your arm with his.
And he was so courteous. So polite. Once you had introduced Ten (or Chittaphon as he decided to be for tonight), he bowed to them and greeted them as if they were the highest ranking in the room. You nearly laughed at the surprise on their faces. They certainly weren’t used to being treated like that.
Ten minutes into the party, both of you found yourselves with a drink in hand, no one surrounding you or bombarding you with questions. You had spotted your brother several times, always with a crowd around him, but so far no sign of your parents. Good. Maybe you could get away with this.
Your brother caught your eye from across the room and you raised your glass to him teasingly. He nodded at you, trying and failing to keep a straight face. You observed him talk to the two people with him, shaking them off and making his way to you.
As he approached, he looked both of you up and down, crossing his arms. You knew it was coming, you were just waiting for him to bust out a joke, but you didn’t think he’d say, “I have to admit, you look good together.”
You flushed, heat crawling up your neck. “Shut up.” Ten didn’t seem fazed by the comment. You couldn’t believe how well he was pulling this off.
“Changmin!” someone called out. The three of you turned to the newcomer.
“Yunho hyung!” Your brother embraced his friend. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”
“How could I miss it?” he replied. “Oh!” he caught sight of you. “Is this Y/N?” You forced a smile. “You’ve grown! And who’s this?”
Before you could open your mouth, Ten cut to the chase. “I’m Y/N’s classmate, sir. Chittaphon.” They shook hands firmly. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Yunho nodded in approval, evidently sticking to his old philosophy of using a handshake to judge a person’s character. “You seem like a smart young man. You’ll be good for her.”
You rolled your eyes. Ten looked at you, alarmed at being mistaken for your literal boyfriend, but you just shook your head, telling him not to argue.
“Well, let me just see Choi Siwon for a second. His younger brother got accepted to the Marines, did you hear?”
Changmin waited until Yunho was out of earshot to hiss at you, “I thought you said he was an engineer?”
“For now he’s my classmate, I’ll explain later,” you told him. “Got it?”
“Okay.”
“Where’s Ma? I didn't see her yet.”
“She was around here somewhere.”
“Don’t send her looking for me, okay?”
“Too late.”
“Y/N!”
You winced as your mother’s voice reached your ears. You saw Ten tense up beside you. “Ma.”
She came into view, pleased that you came. Your grip on Ten’s arms shifted, holding onto him tighter. Her eyes caught the movement and her lips pursed.
“What does he do?” she asked you, as if he wasn’t standing right there. You wished your eyes were lasers. How rude can a person get?
“He’s my classmate,” you answered. Her scowl deepened.
“What is your name?” she shot at Ten.
“My name is Chittaphon, ma’am.”
Creases formed above her eyebrows. “What do your parents do?”
“My father works in the road transport corporation.”
She glanced down to his arm, where you still held on. He made a motion as if to move away from you, but you held firm. You weren’t going to let your mother decide your life for you.
“Mark was asking me whether you came,” she informed me. “He is looking for you.”
Classic. To talk to me about another guy when I was already with one. “Well, I’m certainly not looking for him.” I’m sorry Mark, but I’m not interested. He’ll understand, right? “I can’t fathom why you would think we were compatible that way.”
“If I hear you being disrespectful towards him,” she threatened, “there will be consequences.”
“I honestly don’t care.” You laced your fingers into Ten’s. She turned on her heel and marched off, muttering darkly. His palm was sweating. You let go of him.
“Look what you’ve done, you made her mad.” Changmin wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. “Now I have to deal with her.”
“Sorry, is it my fault that she nags?”
“Oh, she’s talking to Yeonhee, I have to go.” He patted your arm before dashing off to stop your mother from picking a fight with his secretary.
“Y/N,” Ten muttered in your ear, “could I use the restroom for a moment?”
“Yeah, of course. They’re over there.” You pointed them out, and he thanked you. You stared at him sympathetically as he left. Your mother was just too much for someone to handle.
Only after he left did you realize you had been left exposed. Your immunity had gone. Shit. Should I go to the restroom as well?
The strains of the song playing in the hall reached your ears. ‘Sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise, tired of all these cameras flashing, sick of being poised…’
Halsey, you thought. Appropriate song for the situation. Funny.
“Excuse me? Y/N, right?”
You spun around to come face-to-face with a handsome young man you had never seen in your life. He seemed a bit pixie-like. Shrewd. His voice was youthful. Foreign accent. He wore his suit as if he had been born in it. Third generation at least, I’m sure. In his hand was a glass of champagne. You had no clue who this was, but you were polite. You smiled.
He seemed to take that as an invitation to talk. “I’m glad you made it. Your mother’s said quite a lot about you.”
Your mother talked to him? Why? Alarms went off in your head. “Huh?”
He looked perplexed. “She said she’d like us to meet?”
You tilted your head and blinked rapidly. “I’m sorry,” you said, waving your hands around in confusion. “What was your name?”
He was dumbfounded, as if he couldn’t believe you didn’t know his name. “Mark. Mark Lee.”
Wait. What?! Mark Lee? You smacked your head with your palm. I thought Ma was talking about Mark Tuan? What the hell? Who is this Mark? Fuck fuck fuck. “Oh yeah….” you drawled. “She did say…forgive me, I just couldn’t correlate the name to the face. So. Yeah.”
He relaxed, flashing a bright smile. “It’s okay. Happens to the best of us.”
You smiled apologetically, both of you lapsing into silence, sipping your drinks and watching the others at the party congratulate Changmin. You were looking for Ten, but he must have not come out of the restroom yet. Damn.
“Nice party, huh? You must be proud of your brother.”
You nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
“The product is so cool,” he continued. “You remember the production team at the press meeting? Damn. It’s so clever, you know? Merging the software like that…”
You couldn’t help it at all. You tuned him out at once. Business bored you to no end. From his enthusiasm, he was definitely a biz nut like your brother. Ugh. He was nice, sure. But not your type at all. Your eyes darted around, distracted, and you saw Ten across the room, talking quite seriously to a man you recognized as the General Manager of OWEnt. Wait, what was that guy doing here? Changmin hated him. It was probably your dad who invited him. Out of courtesy. You narrowed your eyes, hoping nothing was wrong.
“…great investment. Don’t you think so?” He ended, turning to you expectantly.
You paused for a beat and then told him, “I think you should know that I didn’t understand a word you just said.”
“Ah.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not great at explaining stuff. But you get what I mean, right? I mean, they said it at the press meeting…right?” His face fell at your bemused expression. “You weren’t there, were you?”
You shook your head. “No, I wasn’t. I have nothing to do with this company, and to be frank, I know nothing about business.”
“Wait.” He held a hand up. “I’m about…” he scrunched up his nose, “…ninety-eight percent sure that your mom told mine that you would be joining the company soon.”
Ma. I wish you weren’t my mother so I could kill you and only end up in jail for murder and not matricide. I can’t believe she would go that far!
“Um, no, I’m not,” you clarified. “You must have heard wrong. I’m actually in my final year at college. As an English major.”
He didn’t speak for a while, brain processing that. “Whoa. You mean like…Shakespeare?”
“Among others, yes.”
“Nice.” He took a swig of his drink. “You know, back when I started learning his stuff in high school, I thought he was such a b—“ he broke off, looking around. “—a jerk. But by the end, when you get used to it, you’re like, dang, this dude’s so—“
“Badass.” Both of you spoke at the same time and then burst out laughing.
As you composed yourself, you noticed Ten and the man still talking, but this time, Ten looked absolutely murderous. Once the man left, he stood there still, fists clearly clenched. Then abruptly turned and walked out the door.
“Mark,” you said, eyes still on the doors. “It was nice meeting you, it really was, but I’m afraid I have to go now. I’ll see you around, I suppose.”
“Yeah sure, ok—“ You didn’t stop to hear the rest of his gracious acceptance, you were almost running out the door behind Ten.
…
“Ten!”
He didn’t seem to hear you. He just kept walking out into the parking lot. Or maybe he did hear you and didn’t care. His pace slowed down, thankfully, because you were wearing heels and simply couldn’t run that fast.
“Ten! Please! Talk to me!”
He stopped. You hobbled up to him, but as soon as you did, he turned quickly around.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just—shit, sorry, I don’t know why—let’s go back—“
“Ten.”
“—supposed to be with you, I’m sorry I just left—“
“Ten!” You yelled. He fell quiet, fists clenching and unclenching, breathing heavily. You reached out cautiously and touched his hand, eyes gentle and sympathetic. “What happened?” He seemed to recognize the earnestness in your eyes.
“I—“ he sighed. “It’s nothing.”
“You were talking to Jang Seokwoo. Why?”
He avoided your eyes. “Until last Monday, I worked for him.”
The words fell like a bomb into your head. “What?” you half-whispered, utterly horrified. “You worked at OWEnt?” Reluctantly he nodded. “Listen, that man and the company are no good at all. He’s despicable. You’re better off not working there. Don’t let that son of a bitch talk to you.”
“I know,” he replied. “I’m not upset that I was fired. It’s just that…” he hesitated.
“Tell me.”
“He’s the one who’s been making it hard for me to get a job anywhere else.”
You gasped, rage coursing through you. You would have marched right back in there and given the fucker a piece of your mind, if Ten hadn’t chosen that moment to hold your hand. He needed your support right now.
“You’re good enough, you know?” you said quietly. “In case you were wondering. Your skill level in writing software doesn’t determine your worth.”
He smiled sadly. “Not when you’re a software engineer.”
You linked your fingers. “I know a person who despises him. And one company he can’t influence.”
He understood what you meant and shook his head. “Y/N, no. You can’t do that for me.”
“I can if I want to.”
“Can we drop it? Let’s go back to the party.”
“Okay.” You lifted your hands in surrender. “Dropped. But why didn’t you come back to me instead of standing around?”
He messed with his hair. “You were busy talking to that guy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“I wish you had.” You leaned against his shoulder. “That was the guy Ma is trying to get me married to.”
“And?”
“He’s nice and all, but he’s definitely not my type.” You wrinkled your nose. “All business.”
He let out a breathy laugh. “What is your type, then?”
Guys with a heart, you wanted to say, who stand on a bridge at midnight staring at the water because it calms them. Guys who worry about strangers, who talk them out of suicide. Dreamers. “Um. I don’t really know. But he’s definitely not it.”
The silence between the two of you was comfortable, never awkward or embarrassing like it was with other people. You were content in the quiet. You didn’t have to talk, and neither did he.
“Shouldn’t we go back to the party?”
You blinked, considering it. “But you don’t want to, though.”
He stretched. “It’s not about what I want. We made a deal.”
“If this is about the money, I’m still pay—“
“It’s not just about the money,” he interrupted, a tad frustrated. “I promised you I would be there, that I’d chase away your admirers. And I couldn’t keep it.”
“You did enough! You did more than enough! You were fantastic.” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. “Do you know how smug I looked the entire time? Has no one told you how…delicious…you look in a suit?”
He grunted. “Pervert.”
You laughed, the sound ringing loud and clear in the empty parking lot. “I made my appearance. They know I came. We don’t have to stay any longer.”
“I’ll drive you home, then.”
“But I don’t want to go home just yet,” you whined.
“…Then where to?”
…
“This is a nice park,” Ten remarked. You ripped your heels off before plopping down on a bench, sighing in relief.
The night had fallen thickly on the earth. Cloud cover covered most of the stars, but the moon still smiled down on you, its silver glow the only light you were provided with. The damp grass felt like heaven between your toes, even though you couldn’t see its green. A slight chill blew through the place.
“Talk to me,” he whispered, revering the serenity.
“About what?” your voice equally low.
“Anything. Why do you like to write?”
Good question. You didn’t know. “Um. Why I like to write…I’m not that great with words. Talking, I mean.” You stared at the sky. “I guess writing gives me a way to say things I could never say with my mouth. And then there’s the immunity. If you tell someone your feelings, there’s the chance they would use it against you. If you show them something you wrote, four out of five times they don’t realize what it means, so no one could make you feel bad about it.”
“But no one would understand what you tell them.”
“That’s a small price to pay. I’d rather have no one understand me.”
“I understand you. Tell me something you wrote.”
Heat ran through your face. You never shared your writing if you could help it. Changmin was an exception. “My writing?” You were already racking your brain for a piece you could recite to him.
“I promise I won’t make fun of it.”
“I know you won’t.” You swallowed nervously nevertheless. “I’ve read this one over and over, so many times, I know it by heart now.”
“Go ahead.”
You cleared your throat.
“we dream of love and peace
of quiet nights and starry skies
of the world in the lonely hours of the morning
places no one else has seen
.
we dream of magic and miracles
stuck in the monotony of what they call
the real world
.
but we know
—out there, far from this little town—
that there are people and places
waiting for us
calling us
luring us
.
and I know
you want to leave
I know
you want to feel things you were never allowed to feel
I know
you want to break free
from everything
.
and people scorn you
telling you not to believe in the lies
but we know the truth, you and I
and I know,
when they laugh, I won’t
i can be your wings
fly
.
and yet we stay
with the ones we know
out of love? or guilt?
.
but your life is not meant to waste away
here
where no one understands you
.
your life is meant to live
to travel
to learn
to seek
and to celebrate the magic
you never realized
was always within you.”
You inhaled sharply when you finished. This was quite a personal poem you had just recited.
Silence. You could only hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears and your hands were shivering, anticipating (or dreading?) what he would say.
“Wow,” he breathed. “That was beautiful.” You sighed in relief.
‘I’ve never let anyone hear that.”
He took your hand. “I’m honoured, then.”
Neither of you felt the need to talk much.
“I understand now, at least.”
You looked over at him. “What?”
“How you’re expected to be. It’s so suffocating. I guess life isn’t better on this side of the bridge after all.” He patted your hand. “I don’t blame you for wanting to run away.”
You couldn’t begin to describe how much that meant to you. For someone to understand. For someone to be on your side. For someone to empathize.
You were glad, for once, that you had gone to the bridge that night.
…
“Do you want to come inside?”
Ten paused, his hand still on the doorknob where he held it open for you, his coat slung over his shoulder like a model. Both of you were in front of your house, still empty. Your family hadn’t yet returned. You could hear Lexi barking from inside.
“I want to, but your people could be back any moment and I’m deathly scared of your parents.”
You giggled. “I don’t blame you. When should I pick you up tomorrow?”
“I could just come here like toda—“
“No, I’ll pick you up. I’d like to see your apartment.”
He looked horrified. “There’s honestly nothing to see. Besides, my roommate looks crappy in the morning and he’s not going to be nice…”
“That’s okay.” You leaned up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his cheek sweetly. “Tomorrow, then.”
You saw his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. When he spoke, he sounded a little breathless. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”
…
beautiful stranger
where did you come from? where will you go?
do I not have the right to know?
.
young is the night
soft silver light
and the stars are gone
they have no faith in us
the moon stays with us
are they wrong?
.
with the world wrapped in darkness
she sees more than the sun
the day sees the purpose
the night sees the passion
.
the moon stays to watch
what will become of us?
I fear she knows but I dare not ask
beautiful stranger
where did you come from? where will you go?
the risk is too great to mask.
A loud knocking at your door made Lexi bark and made you jump, a line drawn across the page you were writing on. Cursing under your breath, you closed your notebook and went to open the door. Changmin’s face peered back at you through the crack in the door. This idiot! The traitor! You seized his shirt and pulled furiously.
“Wha—“
“Ma was setting me up with Mark Lee?” you wailed, shaking him. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His mouth fell open. Choking over his words, he managed to splutter, “You little bitch! I did tell you!”
“I thought you meant Mark Tuan!” You released him and tugged at your hair.
He looked utterly bewildered. “Mark Tuan? Mark Tuan?? Mark Tuan is in Los Angeles!”
You threw your hands in the air. “I thought he came back, what was I supposed to think!”
“How is that my fault?” he asked, pointing at himself for emphasis. “I thought you knew Mark Lee, I’ve mentioned him around here a few times.”
“I’ve never heard of him in my life,” you whined, moving back to lean against your desk, palms flat on the surface.
He leaned against the door. “What’s got you so upset? Is he such a bad guy?”
You thought about it. “He’s…he’s actually pretty nice. But he’s like you. Stupid budding biz wiz. It’s just—“ You let out a frustrated noise. “I was caught off guard! It was so embarrassing! I don’t like surprises; I had this whole speech planned out and everything.”
Before he could laugh at you for that, the doorknob turned.
“Dad!” You both exclaimed. He squeezed his way inside, standing awkwardly beside your brother before clearing his throat.
“Yunho says you’ve found a boyfriend,” he began. Changmin almost started laughing.
“Oh, no,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Dad, can we not talk about—“
He held a hand up for silence. “No, I want to know.” He paused. “Is he good to you?”
You opened your mouth to explain that no, Dad, he’s not my boyfriend, but you stopped yourself. Why not go along with the façade? Let them believe it. Maybe it would get Ma off your back. “So far, yes.” You noticed your brother raising his eyebrows like he didn’t expect you to lie. Why aren’t you just telling him he’s not?
You threw him back a glare. Mind your own damn business. Min-ah. He scowled.
“Are you sure he’s not with you for the money?” your father questioned.
“I don’t think he is, Dad,” you answered carefully. “I mean, he knows I won’t be inheriting anything after I graduate—“
“Who said you wouldn’t be inheriting anything?”
You paused, confused. “Ma.” He rubbed his temples.
“I think it was a ruse to get her to join the business,” Changmin cut in swiftly.
“It’s okay, Dad,” you said quietly. “I don’t need it. After college, I’ll be out of your hair.”
There was a long silence.
“Will you?”
Your father’s eyes were misty.
“Will you forget us all that easily?”
“Dad—“
“Well guess what, we won’t.”
You swallowed your feelings down. “I didn’t mean it like that—“
“I know you didn’t. I’m only sad about one thing. You used to be the girl who ran home from school to tell us everything that happened that day,” he smiled fondly at the memory, “and now I barely see you smile. You don’t talk to us anymore.” Your fingers closed around the spine of your notebook fearfully, already dreading what would happen if they were to read it. “I understand that you’ve grown, but that doesn’t mean I’ve accepted it. You’re still my little girl.” He turned to open the door. “By the way,” he added, tone changing to a more professional one, “what I came in here to say is, I want to talk to your boyfriend. Tell him to meet me someday.”
That certainly broke the tension.
“Dad, get out.” You pointed at the door. “Out. Both of you.” You father chuckled and walked out into the hallway, but Changmin stayed behind. “You need a special invitation?” Lexi snapped at him in agreement.
“He’s right, you know,” he told you.
“About what?”
“About everything.” He smirked. “I wonder what he’s going to say when he finds out you’re lying.”
…
Barely five minutes after your parents had left with your brother in the morning, the doorbell rang. The retreat was to be held at the country club, booked for the weekend. Lexi was safe with a pet care that your brother had found. Poor baby. She was going to be very uncooperative. You had no idea whether you were expected to stay at the club or if you could come back home. You wondered what Ten would do. The doorbell rang again.
“Shit, okay, I’m coming!” you yelped, racing to throw it open. You deflated. “I told you I would pick you up!” The whine in your voice was evident. Ten walked smugly into the house, dropping his bags just inside the doorway. He looked like he had won a game. So, this was a game, huh? Fine. One point to him now, but you were sure as hell going to win.
“Yeah, you’re not seeing my apartment until we get a lot closer.” He stopped to admire some picture frames propped up on the mantelpiece. “Two guys rooming together, can you imagine the state of it?” He shuddered. “Is this you?”
You flipped the picture around so his attention was on you. “Are you ready to go?”
He flipped it right back. “Sure am. Are you?”
“I was just about to leave.”
He snatched the keys from you as you walked outside to the car. And you let him.
“How come you didn’t reply to my message last night?” he asked, starting the car. “Fell asleep?”
You were about to answer when he jolted, killing the ignition and patting his pockets frantically. Terror on his face.
“Fuck,” he said tersely. “I forgot my phone!”
You loved the implication. He would have to go back to his apartment now. You crossed your arms, waiting for him to make a decision.
“If you don’t want me at your place so badly, you could go the weekend without it,” you suggested.
“That would work,” he said, too far gone to comprehend what you were saying. “But I can’t trust my roommate with it. Fuck, I have to go back.” A point to you?
“I promise I won’t say anything about the mess.”
…
Honestly, you hadn’t been to this side of the bridge much, either. You looked around curiously as he manoeuvred the car through the mild traffic. His apartment complex seemed a cozy but dull sort of place.
He led you up to the second floor and rapped sharply on the door labelled 127. After a full minute, it opened.
“Ah, you’re back so soon?” a young man you could only assume was his roommate dug a knuckle into his head. Ten batted his hand away. “Oh, and who’s this?” You were too busy taking in his sharp (and puffy? did he just wake up?) features.
“This is Y/N,” Ten replied for you, nudging your side. You snapped out of your admiration.
“Ow! Hi. I’m Y/N.” You tried to rub your ribs subtly.
“So this is Y/N, huh?” he leaned against the doorframe, holding up a phone and reading off of it. “Yesterday night. 12:04. Hey, are you awake? Y/N? Hey. Answer meeee. You’re never asleep yet. Don’t leave me like this what the hell. Aw,” he cooed. “Someone’s needy. So cute.”
Ten’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. “Taeyong, give me back my phone!” His roommate dashed into the apartment, cackling. Ten followed, yelling, “Give it back, asshole!”
“That’s hyung to you!”
You sighed, letting yourself inside and glancing around. It wasn’t as messy as Ten claimed. It was actually pretty nice. A nice change to the much bigger and colder spaces you were used to. There was a sense of warmth here. Familiarity. You liked it.
A wail resounded in one of the bedrooms and Ten stalked out, phone in hand, hunting successful. You giggled.
“Let’s go,” he said firmly, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, possessive.
A dishevelled Taeyong appeared in the hallway. “Y/N. Take care of him, huh? He’s a little delicate.”
“Hyung, shut up.”
“Do you have any idea how much he talks about you? I mean, honestly, such an annoyance—“ he dodged Ten’s punch. “—gonna have to get him to pay royalties for using your name as entertainment so much—ow!” Ten got a hit in.
“We’re leaving,” Ten nearly growled. The last thing we heard before the door slammed shut was, ‘have a nice honeymoon’.
“He seems…interesting,” you offered.
“He’s an idiot.” Ten scowled. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a filthy liar.”
“Of course he is.” You gestured behind you vaguely as you made your way downstairs. “How do you know him?”
“He was my senior in school. We were neighbourhood friends.” He made an impatient noise. “Sometimes I regret it.”
…
The weather was nice, to say the least. It was cloudy, but not in the way like there was going to be a storm. More so in the way like the sun was just tired as heck of shining and decided to take a day off from the office to work from home. You couldn’t relate more.
Ten skilfully guided the car to a stop in the lot shown to him by the security guard. He had never been near this type of elitist club and he made it known to you. Hauling his backpack over his shoulder and handing yours to you, he scrunched up his face at the property.
“You’re right, it is elitist,” you easily agreed. “Annoying, but hey,” you nudged him, “it’s my parents’ money, I’m gonna make the most of it. You should too.”
“I certainly will,” he muttered, running his fingertips over the carved lions that flanked either side of the entrance.
“You can relax, here, you know,” you informed him, “it’s not going to be as uptight as the part—oh!” You broke off, surprised as two small children dashed across the path in front of you, almost causing you to bump into them and knock them over. You didn’t recognize them, but they were surely here for the retreat with their parents. They didn’t mind you in the slightest, only continuing carelessly on their way.
“Careful,” Ten chided you playfully, his eyes bright.
“Oh, shut up.” You pointed into the distance. “I can see Minnie. Come on. Let’s go say hi.”
Changmin and his secretary were busy greeting the people as they arrived. Yeonhee’s eyes lit up when she saw you, relieved. You really felt sorry for her, stuck with glue to your brother’s side and hearing your mother’s harsh criticism for whatever she did. Lucky Ma wasn’t here now. You didn’t want to imagine what would happen if Yeonhee ended up as Ma’s daughter in law.
“Greetings, sister.” Changmin bowed, clearly mocking you.
“Peasant,” you shot back. “You know we really don’t want to be here, right?”
“Does it look like I do?” he questioned, gesturing to himself.
Your eyes slid to Yeonhee. “Something makes me think you do.” Thankfully, she didn’t catch your meaning or the redness dusting Minnie’s cheeks. “Anyway, where are we supposed to sleep?”
In hindsight, that wasn’t exactly the best question to ask right after you made fun of him. He jumped at the chance to retaliate. “Don’t expect us to room you together!” he exclaimed. “It’s not going to happen. Two drinks in and you will throw all safety out the window.”
You groaned. “Really?” You turned to Ten. “Please ignore what he just said. I don’t know him.”
He only shook his head sceptically. “I’ve heard much worse. Mm. 4 on 10.”
Changmin looked offended. “Whatever. I suppose I’ll be rooming with my brother in law, then. There’s no problem with that, is there?” He threw an arm around Ten and squeezed his shoulder threateningly. Ten grimaced.
“I think she’s told me too much about you for me to get scared, hyung.”
“And I’ll be rooming with my sister in law, won’t I?” You linked arms with Yeonhee, who finally tensed and blushed, covering her face with her hand.
Whether it was because he noticed her discomfort, or he just resigned to his fate, Changmin quickly let the topic go. Shoving room keys into your hands, he set the two of you down the path to the cabins.
“There’s brunch down by the mess!” he called after us. “It’s somewhere on the way!”
“Noted!”
…
It wasn’t until three minutes after you got to the mess for brunch that you remembered an important fact about boys that you completely forgot after high school: boys go crazy when they see food. And another thing—men in their twenties were still, very much, boys.
You lost Ten within the first ten (coincidence? I think not) minutes. No matter where and how hard you looked, you simply couldn’t find him. Was your eyesight diminishing? You wouldn’t be surprised, from the amount of time you read in dim light. Was it because he was tiny and could squeeze in anywhere? Probably. Maybe you were just too hungry to look properly. You couldn’t just stand there with a bowl of fruit salad in your hands looking this way and that like an idiot who didn’t know how to eat. You were far too anxious for that. So you moved aside, perching on an unoccupied table, dipping your fork into the bowl and stabbing a piece of apple.
“Hey, Y/N.” You paused mid-chew. That wasn’t Ten’s voice, but it seemed annoyingly familiar. You turned and saw the boy from last night. Mark. Mark Lee. Your face went pink at the memory.
“Hey. Mark,” you replied reluctantly, not wanting to entertain the conversation but also unwilling to seem overly rude.
He offered you an easy smile. “So. Forgive me for asking this, I know it’s the weekend and too early in the morning, but I was just wondering…um. You mentioned yesterday that you weren’t going to join the business. What are you planning to do?”
He was absolutely right. It was not the time to be discussing this, but at least he apologized for it. And well, if the thought had been keeping him up all night, you might as well indulge him. “I’d like to write.” In a way he understands, you reminded yourself. “Like poetry and stuff.”
“Wow. That’s neat.” He sat on the table, staring ahead. You suddenly felt eyes on you from the other side of Mark and you leaned back, peering behind him. A little ways away, Ten was staring at the both of you, nearly in hysterics watching your plight. He was spooning what appeared to be ice cream(?) into his mouth. Wait, there was ice cream here? No. Focus. You widened your eyes at him, furious and he laughed silently, pointing his spoon at you.
Save me, you mouthed.
He shook his head, clearly enjoying this. You pouted.
“Why the sudden question?” you asked Mark, returning your attention to him.
He shrugged. “Just thought I’d get to know you better. For the record, I don’t mind if you’re not into business. I can explain that to my mom.” He snapped his fingers. “Actually. Are you free anytime next week?”
You weren’t sure where this was going. “Um. Why?”
“I thought we could, you know, grab coffee or something.” He scratched the back of his neck. “Get to know each other?”
Whoa. Wow. Okay. Back the fuck up. “You mean like a date?”
He nodded, relaxing a little. “Is that okay?”
No. It wasn’t. This had to stop. “Mark, actually I—“
You were rudely cut off by the loud unprecedented arrival of a figure you had come to find familiar and comforting. You were relieved and embarrassed at the same time.
“Babe!” He exclaimed, coming close to you. “I was looking for you everywhere.”
Before you could protest the use of the pet name, your brain registered that Ten had come closer to you, and that he wasn’t stopping.
The next thing you knew was his lips on yours. It was over before you even knew it was happening. A simple peck, in anyone’s terms.
You were frozen in shock, but you had the sense not to make it too obvious. This must be his way of ‘rescuing’ you. Not bad. You cleared your throat awkwardly.
“I got lost in the crowd, I guess,” you breathed out in answer to his question.
“Ah, it’s okay. Have you tried this ice cream, though?” You winced at his obnoxious tone.
“Mark, I’m sorry, I really should go—“ Ten cut you off again.
“Mark! Hey!” Ten stuck out a hand. “Y/N’s mentioned. It’s nice to meet you.” Cringing inwardly at both Ten’s attitude and Mark’s expression, you watched as Mark shook his hand. Ten really isn’t going to let me say anything, huh?
“Let’s get the ice cream, yeah?” you quickly intercepted, pulling Ten away. You had no intention of this becoming a bro-time for the two of them. “Sorry, Mark, I guess I’ll see you around!” Yanking sharply on Ten’s sleeve, you managed to drag him away. You vaguely heard Mark mumble a reply, but you were too far to hear.
Once out of earshot, you pulled Ten in front of you and smacked his arm. He made an innocently hurt face.
“When I said, save me, that isn’t what I meant, idiot.” Just to push his buttons, you rubbed your lips, disgusted. They still tingled, as if they wanted to feel his again.
He slung an arm around you, your knees buckling under his force. “Hey, at least he’s not going to bother you anymore.”
Well. I guess he has a point. “Whatever,” you pushed his arm off. “Still wasn’t necessary.”
“You liked it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I didn’t.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
…
Brunch had barely ended. Like, you were given maybe half an hour for the food in your stomach to settle before Changmin decided to have some fun with everyone.
Your phone vibrated. You pulled it out, wondering who was texting you over the weekend. “Min?” You pressed the messages icon. did I just see 10 kissing you
You rolled your eyes. I don’t see how that’s any of your business
His reply was quick. well then bring your business to the basketball court
“Why?” Ten questioned, looking over your shoulder at the text.
A loud blast of music resonated from around the corner. You groaned. “Oh no.”
“What’s going on?” Ten sounded curious and eager.
“It’s this thing Changmin pulls when he’s bored. He entertains himself by making people dance.” The two of you rounded the auditorium and the basketball court near it came into view. Your brother’s generation and everyone below that were gathered around the open cement, music blasting from a couple of speakers.
“He ever do it to you?” Ten’s voice was full of wonder.
You guffawed. “Not since high school. I made his life hell. He’s not going to try anything on me. But,” you pointed at him, “I think you might be his new target.”
Ten only shrugged, a small smile gracing his lips. “I don’t mind.”
The court was loud. At the very least, you appreciated your brother’s efforts to let the kids have fun. Children were children; they needed to release energy. It was sad, though; in a few short years they would also succumb to the stress of their parents’ businesses.
You watched, clapping your hands and cheering as Changmin dragged in his friends and their younger siblings in to dance, regardless of whether they wanted to or not. He had a significant struggle in your cousin’s kid’s case—and then he saw Ten. He let the kid go (thankfully for her) and beckoned to Ten. He politely raised his hand to decline. Minnie’s expression became mischievous and he promptly seized Ten’s arm to pull him in. The song changed and Ten just stood there, looking uncertain, tapping his foot to the new beat. Oh, this is Taki Taki, you recognized. The beat dropped.
And then your mouth was on the dirty ground as Ten just went off. You weren’t even joking when you said the whole crowd fell silent.
Ten was dancing. Like, not the pathetic dancing most average people did. You meant dancing. Top level dancing. You’ve only seen dancing like this in videos that dance groups posted online. His moved were sharp. Professional. You wondered if he was really trained or if this was raw talent. His normally smiling face was hard, set, passionate. And this was his freestyle?
Changmin stepped back, awe on his face. The crowd began to cheer Ten on and you saw him blush momentarily before relapsing to his focused face. You had to admit, his focused face was pretty damn hot.
After the chorus beat drop, he relaxed, his moves more fluid and lazy. He locked eyes with you and smirked. You somehow picked your jaw up from off the cement.
“Dude!” Changmin yelled over the music. “You dance? Like, professionally?”
Ten nodded, slightly out of breath. “For a while, yeah.”
Your brother was shaking his head in disbelief. “Damn. Ey, dumbass,” he called out, clearly gesturing to you, “don’t get rid of this guy, yeah?”
“I won’t!” you responded, cupping your hands around your mouth so he could hear better. Ten stumbled back over to you, grinning in sheer satisfaction.
He spared you a breathless laugh. “I didn’t think they’d like it so much.”
“I didn’t know you danced.” Inwardly, you were like, great, another reason for me to like him.
He shrugged. “Taeyong and I…we were kind of the duo back in the day. He teaches dance at NCity. You ever heard of it? It’s on the other side of the bridge.”
You shook your head. Unfortunately you hadn’t. “You still dance with him?”
“Well, there are a couple others now,” he explained. “We’re in a difficult place right now. Debt. Sort of. Infrastructure isn’t what it used to be. But yeah. I go there on most weekends.”
“Will you take me there someday?”
He stiffened. “You’re serious? You want to see the academy?”
“Yeah. I really do.”
You weren’t sure, but you thought you could see a hint of a smile. “We’ll see.”
…
Night had fallen.
Most of the people had gathered in the amphitheatre-like stage near the closed auditorium. Since this was the first major product launch (of a totally new product and not an update) that your brother had directly been part of after being promoted to executive, your parents made a big deal of it. Most of the businesspeople and the grown-ups were out here either after putting their kids to bed or seating them quietly beside them. Your father had raised a toast ten minutes prior, old men were making speeches congratulating Changmin, and Ten was nowhere to be seen. Not to mention mosquitos.
You were seated the farthest away, almost hidden in the darkness, just about ready to make your escape, when Mark sidled up to sit next to you.
“I just wanted to apologize,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on the stage. “I was under the impression that he was just a friend you brought along, not your boyfriend. If I’d known…”
“It’s okay,” you reassured, tapping his knee. “Honestly. It’s fine.”
“What I don’t understand,” he continued, “is why our parents tried to set us up?”
“My mother.” You sighed. “She—she doesn’t approve. She’d rather see me get married to a businessman.”
“That’s messed up.” Mark’s voice sounded genuinely apologetic. “I’m really sorry for coming onto you like that, what your boyfriend must have thought…”
“Mark. Listen. It’s fine. You’re a nice guy. Don’t get me wrong.” You patted his arm. “Quit apologizing. And…shouldn’t you be up front?”
He smiled uncertainly, nodding and standing up at last to go back to his seat. As you watched him, a fond sort of smile forming on your lips, your phone buzzed.
It was a message from Ten. Finally. Maybe he’s telling me he’s on his way.
You gaped at the photo attached. It was of you and Mark—barely a minute ago. So he’s around here somewhere. The idiot. The device buzzed again. A text popped up under the photo.
meet me at the cabin
You could barely hide the grin that spread across your face. Glancing around and confirming an all clear, you got to your feet and crept away, hidden in the shadows. You broke into a run as you neared the cabins.
He was waiting for you. You never realized how attractive a loose white t-shirt and jeans looked on a person. He had a flashlight and a smirk on his face and both told you that he was most certainly up to something.
“Hey, babe,” he greeted casually, the term making your stomach clench.
“Don’t call me that,” you mumbled, not really meaning what you said. He extended his hand to you and you took it, realizing that his hand was sweaty. So he wasn’t as collected as he seemed. One point to you.
“Where are we going?” you asked, eyeing the flashlight warily. He flicked it on and pointed it at the dark outline of the trees a little ways away from the cabins.
“Onward.”
“Hell no!” you cried, doing your best to pull away from him, but he held fast. “I’m not going in there!”
“Why are you afraid?” He grinned. “I’m with you.”
“Unless you can fight a bear, that doesn’t particularly reassure me.” His grip was strong. The dark woods loomed before you; the tiny circle of light that the flashlight provided wasn’t doing much good. Your heels dug into the ground.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he laughed. “There aren’t any bears in here. If there were, the club wouldn’t exist. You’re just scared of the dark, huh?”
Reluctantly, you allowed yourself to be pulled into the cover of trees, the lights of the cabins and buildings quickly vanishing. You held onto his hand tightly, terrified of what might happen if you lost him. The tiny bulb seemed to be growing brighter in the darkness. Your eyes darted up, hoping to still see the sky, and sure enough, the moon was there, spreading its glow. You relaxed a little.
He kept mumbling nonsensical words of comfort as you both walked on, until the trees ended, the narrow path opening into a wide space, ground sloping down gently until—water?
“Where are we?” you questioned. He sat down on the sandy bank and you imitated him.
“The other side of the lake.” He pointed the flashlight into the distance, to a spot you couldn’t make out. “That’s the dock.” The light must have hit one of the boats there, because you saw a flash of white. He flicked it off, engulfing you in darkness. Oddly enough, you weren’t afraid anymore. “I was bored, sitting here alone. That’s why I texted you.” His voice suddenly changed.
“You were sitting out here alone?” You frowned.
He caught your concern. “I thought you would want to stay there. Since it’s your brother’s celebration and all. And I’m…” he sighed. “I’m not a match for these high-class people.” The undertones in his voice made you worry.
“What do you mean by that?” Your fingers felt around until they found his.
“Do you like him?” he asked abruptly.
Is that what this is all about? “You mean Mark? As a friend, sure, maybe,” you answered. “Not as anything else.” You squeezed his wrist. “He came to apologize. Just a while ago.” You chuckled. “Saying he didn’t know you were my boyfriend and that he’s sorry for trying to hit on me because our moms set us up.”
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“Tell him what?”
“That I’m not your boyfriend.”
You narrowed your eyes. What’s gotten into him? “Almost everyone thinks we are, anyway. What does it matter?”
“You’re right.” He let out a deep breath. His voice barely audible. “It’s just an act anyway.”
“Hm? What did you say?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” He pointed up at the sky. “You know about constellations?”
“You’re not changing the topic, Ten,” you said sternly. A thought just occurred to you. “Wait, were you jealous?” You hung from his shoulder, trying to get him to look at you.
“What? No. Shove off.” He pushed you away. “I was just asking.”
“You were jealous. That’s cute.” You looked up at the stars. “And no, I don’t know anything about constellations. I wish I did, but I can’t remember them.”
“Me neither,” he agreed. “I don’t understand how people can just look at a star and say which one it is. They’re dots in the sky, not, like, dogs or something.”
A comfortable silence fell over you. Just sitting there, staring up at the sky, shoulders and thighs touching. His forefinger tapped a regular rhythm against your kneecap. You realized that your eyes had become adjusted to the dim moonlight.
“I hate you sometimes, you know,” you burst out.
He flinched. A hand rested over his heart. “Wha—that came out of nowhere. Did I do something?”
You waved your hands around. “No. I didn’t mean it that way.”
He relaxed. “Oh. Okay. I see.”
“Like, before I met you?” You continued. “My life was…together; my life was easy. And then you came along and now I’m watching everything fall to pieces around me.”
He sucked in a small breath. “That’s—not really making things better.”
You groaned, pulling your hair. “No! Not like that—ugh. This is why I’d rather write—um, how do I say this?” You thought for a bit and spoke slowly, gathering words. “Before I met you, I…I did things my way. You know? Like, I played by my rules. I made friends that I chose. I studied what I wanted to. I write because I decided to. You get it? When I woke up in the morning…I—I knew what would happen that day. I knew what would happen tomorrow. I had everything under my control, and it—it felt safe, yeah? I felt sure about everything. I was confident. And then you showed up, out of nowhere—“ he shifted around, “—and I didn’t plan that. You pop in and out of my day when you want to. And—and I have no control over all that.”
He nodded. “So I’m your element of surprise.”
“That shouldn’t have existed!” Your voice was getting steadily louder. “I went the next night thinking you weren’t going to be there, but you were, and then you had me anticipating! I opened up to you when I never do, why? I shared that poem—Minnie hasn’t even read it—why? Like, even right now. I wouldn’t have left the place, I would’ve stayed like a good girl, but you call me out and I’m just so fucking ready to come to you! I let you near me! I can’t imagine doing that to anyone else I’d only known a week! But why is it like that?” Your voice dropped to a whisper. “Why you?”
You couldn’t recognize the emotion in his eyes. Was it confusion? Was it apprehension, or fear, or even disgust? Maybe it was sympathy—or worse, pity. So when he opened his mouth, you didn’t expect the sentence that came out of it.
“Maybe we’re meant to be.”
You were glad it was too dark for him to see your blush. “You mean like…soulmates or something? You really believe in all that?”
You watched, stunned, awed, frozen, as his hand came up to brush your hair away from your face. He leaned in closer so his nose was barely a few inches from yours. He glanced at your mouth. “How can I look at you,” he murmured, “and say I don’t believe in soulmates?”
There was a lump in your throat (and tears ready to form in your eyes, but you wouldn’t admit that). You swallowed it down, and when he swayed even closer, you couldn’t help but let your eyelids flutter shut—for a kiss that never came. The heat vanished.
“It’s written in the stars, baby.” His loud proclamation made your eyes snap open. He was sprawled on the ground, arms behind his head and gazing up at you with the cockiest grin that you had ever seen. You pursed your lips and bit your tongue, turning away, wanting more than anything to slap him, but too embarrassed to function. One point to him. Reluctantly.
You felt him tug at the hem of your shirt. “You wanted my kiss so bad, didn’t you? I knew you liked it when I kissed you in the morning.”
You clenched your fists. You hated feeling powerless. “No, I didn’t.”
“Oh, really? Let’s try that again.” He sat up, pressing his face into yours. You could feel his breath on your lips and a jolt of desire shot through you. “Tell me, Y/N,” he whispered, “didn’t you like it?”
You felt yourself unravelling. Heat was building up inside you. His fingertips brushed across your exposed neck, sending tiny shivers down your spine. You released the pressure on your jaw. “Yes.”
He was so close, so close, too close. “Tell me, don’t you want me to kiss you?”
A shaky breath escaped you. He didn’t need a reply, it seemed, because he was pushing himself up fully and his lips were against yours.
You wished you had said no. It was nothing like the sweet, innocent peck he had planted on your mouth at brunch. That was fake, just a ruse to tell Mark to go away.
His tongue swiped against your bottom lip and slid back into his mouth before you could register what happened. His hand gripped the back of your neck and pushed you closer to him.
That was fake, but was this real? Wasn’t this just a show of dominance? Wasn’t this just a way of feeding his ego, telling him that he had this effect on you? Wasn’t this just him trying to get a rise out of you? This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real.
His teeth nipped at your lip and you found that you didn’t care. You gasped, lips parting, the heat of the kiss rising in a heartbeat.
He was the one who pulled away first, and you weren’t as mad as you could have been to see him unaffected while you were trying in vain to catch your breath. He didn’t move away, though, so his lips were still just in front of yours.
He drew in air, as if he was about to say something. “You taste like spaghetti.”
What?
“Oh my god, you’re insufferable!” You spat, shoving him forcefully onto his back, seizing the flashlight and getting to your feet. “I am leaving you!” Flicking the damn thing on, you tried to calm your heart, feeling humiliated beyond words. Another point to him, the bastard. How does he do it? You hadn’t gone two paces before his voice reached you.
“You don’t know the way back.”
“The earth is round, isn’t it?” you snapped, face hot. “I’ll end up somewhere.”
…
You wanted to stay mad at him. You really wanted to. But by the time both of you were out of the woods, you were—well, out of the woods. You couldn’t stay mad at him. You didn’t dare say anything to Ten in front of Changmin before you went to bed, but you had several questions for Yeonhee. Changmin never let you interact with her if he could help it. Probably scared that you would do something to embarrass him. Smart. But you got the chance now.
“Is Changmin a good boss?” you questioned her, curious, rolling around childishly on your bed. She smiled gently at your antics.
“He is. He cares about his employees a lot.” You smirked at her answer.
“One particular employee more than others?”
Pink tinted her cheeks. “I—pardon?”
“I’ll cut to the chase.” You rolled onto your stomach, facing her. “Do you like him? Are you two, like, together yet?”
She brought her hand up to cover her face, fanning herself. “What—what gives you that idea?”
You rolled your eyes. “Come on, unnie, don’t lie. You like him, don’t you?”
She paused, probably debating whether it would be good for her health if she confessed her undying love for Changmin to his little sister. “I think so.”
You squealed, giddy. “Has either of you said anything?”
She threw a pillow at you. “You be quiet! Don’t go running around telling anybody!”
You caught the pillow and tossed it back. “But he likes you, too? So what’s the problem?”
Her face turned sour. “I’ll tell you what’s the problem. It’s the same problem you have.”
Oh. Oh. “Ma.” You propped your head up with the heel of your palm. “She’s such a nightmare.”
Yeonhee nodded. “You should see everyone’s faces when she shows up for the board meetings.”
You giggled. “Things will work out. I’m sure of it. If I can pull it off, so can you.”
She chuckled, pulling her blanket over herself. “I hope so, Y/N. I hope so.”
…
The next morning, you managed to get up early. The air was crisp and cold, and though showering was a bitch, it woke you up well and good. Yeonhee woke up hearing your hopeless voice filtering through the bathroom door, poor thing. Leaving her to get ready in peace, you let yourself in next door.
“Where’s Ten?” you asked your brother, taking a seat beside him on the little patio thing out back. He sipped from a cup, the wonderful aroma of coffee slapping you in the face. From where you sat, you had a pretty good view of the open ground where food was being set.
“Bathroom.”
You hummed, sitting back in your chair and focusing on the children playing around the tables, their laughter and smiles suddenly all you could see. You didn’t realize the corners of your mouth had turned upward until Changmin spoke.
“You look happy.”
You took a minute to digest his sentence, and then you were surprised at it. “I am,” you said, awed. “I am happy.”
“That’s good.” He reached out to ruffle your hair (‘hey, stop it’). “I like seeing you happy. Is it...Ten?”
You coughed. “What?”
He seemed in a contemplative mood. “It’s Ten, isn’t it? That’s why you’re so happy, right?” You didn’t know how to respond in a way that wouldn’t betray your growing feelings. So you remained silent. “I know it’s not real, but—don’t let go of him, yeah? Even if it doesn’t work out, or…stay friends or something. Yeah? He’s good for you.”
An ache ripped through your chest at his words. He was right. It wasn’t real. It was all an act that you would have to give up at some point. And, even though you wouldn’t admit it to Changmin, you had gotten attached. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”
“I care about my sister,” he responded sharply. “And I’m not willingly going to lose someone who makes my sister happy.” He placed his fingers at the corners of your mouth and pushed up. “Smile, kiddo. You look better with it.”
The bathroom door opened.
“Hey, Y/N. I thought I heard voices.” You twisted in your chair and regretted it at once. His thin t-shirt stuck to his body, patches of darkening fabric forming from residual water droplets. And his hair—damn, the wet-hair thing was real, huh? He looked fantastic. Rubbing his towel lazily through his damp locks, he came over to you both. “So what’s the plan for today, bro?”
Before Changmin could answer, you cut in. “Bro? Seems like you both got some brother-in-law bonding time, huh?”
“Sure did.” Ten messed up your hair, just after you had fixed it again (‘yah!’).
“I thought the grandpas and grannies could kick back and we could take the kids down to the lake,” your brother suggested. “Jae-ho was pestering me about it yesterday.” You brightened at the idea.
“Sounds cool,” Ten said casually, sniffing the air. “What’s that smell?” He looked down at the both of you, spotting the mug in your brother’s palm. “Coffee?!”
…
“Come on, unnie! You want the boys to win?” Da-eun, your cousin’s daughter screeched, pulling on your arms, totally upset at possibly losing the race to the lake. You, however, had just noticed two things: one, Ten was missing again, and two, Mark was clearly chatting up a girl over by the amphitheatre and you couldn’t help but smile.
You let go of her hand and told her, “Unnie’s getting old. Why don’t you run ahead? Make those boys lose.” She flung your arm away and took off after her older brother Jae-ho. You straightened up, still staring at Mark and the unknown girl until he noticed you. You grinned, flashing him a thumbs-up and he blushed, looking away.
Amused, you broke into a jog to catch up with the kids and your brother.
The wood and stone dock extended out a good twenty metres into the lake. Speedboats and canoes were anchored off to one side. On the other side were steps.
“Cannonball!” Jae-ho was yelling as you reached, jumping off the dock into the water below. You laughed as the water splashed in all directions, drenching your brother and the two other boys with him. Da-eun ran to you as you approached, evidently tired of the testosterone already. The look on her face told you that she was a tiny bit afraid to jump into the water like that, so you led her over to the steps that led down the dock into the water. Changmin followed you, nearly pushing you in when you tried to sit on the steps.
“Stop it, fu—jerk,” you scolded him, making the boys laugh at their hyung. Offended, he began to tickle them, picking them up and tossing them into the water over their screams. Jae-ho swam over to where all of you were. At twelve years old, he was already skilled at swimming, as you knew from your cousin bragging about his medals. Da-eun, only six, was much more hesitant. You watched her cute little self bounce on the submerged step before sitting there, water covering her legs. She shivered.
“Come on, Da-eun, don’t be a baby,” Jae-ho teased mercilessly. Their dynamic reminded you so much of you and your brother.
Da-eun certainly was not about to be mocked. She cautiously picked herself up. Changmin, who had jumped in, opened his arms, beckoning her forward. Reassured at the support, she pushed off from the step, propelling straight into his chest. He gathered her up and shook her, forcing giggles out of her. You chose not to get in. You didn’t have anything else to wear and you just weren’t in the mood to get wet so early in the morning.
“Where’s Ten?” Changmin asked, just noticing his absence, pulling Da-eun onto his shoulders.
“I’m wondering the same thing.” You propped your elbow on your knee.
“Dad’s looking for him.”
“Oh no,” you whined. “Can’t he give it a rest?”
“You know you can just tell him it’s a lie, right?”
“You know you can just shut that hole in your face, right?”
“Ouch.” He shook Da-eun’s legs. “You see how mean she is to me?”
You giggled.
It was fun, you had to admit. You never thought interacting with kids could be anything but exhausting, but sometimes, they were nice. Only sometimes.
“Aishhh!” you yelped as Jae-ho splashed water on you. “Yah!” You made a move to get up, and he dashed to Changmin’s side, hiding behind him. Oh, so he knew his only ally would be your brother.
“Yah? Who are you disrespecting, huh?” Changmin shouted, playing along. Okay. If they’re gonna play that way, you were too. Standing up and sprinting over to the shore, you scooped up some sand and ran back, flinging it at his face. Jae-ho had wisely abandoned his ‘ally’. Changmin spluttered and batted the incoming missiles away as best he could, but you were satisfied that you had won this battle.
You didn’t even realize how the time had flown.
“Hey, kids!” A voice called out. “And Changminnie hyung, too, I suppose. It’s lunch time.”
Ten. What the hell has he been?
“Oi, Ten!” your brother greeted crudely. His words were drowned out, however, by the kids erupting at the announcement of lunch being served. Changmin was unceremoniously dragged out of the water by the four demon-children.
You turned to him as he sat next to you. Wordlessly, he passed you a juice box, presumably that he nicked from the mess stalls.
“Where were you?” you asked, pouting. He stabbed the box with the straw and sucked at it hard.
“I had to pee, jeez.” The annoying sound of suctioning air filled your ears. “Can’t you manage even a minute without me?” You smacked his arm, deciding to stab your own juice box.
“Hey, I saw Mark,” you suddenly remembered. His face fell.
“Yeah?”
“Yah, quit being so jealous, I told you I don’t like him that way. What I was saying was I think he found someone else. He was being pretty close to a girl.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “Good for him.” You were amused at his aloofness. He clearly didn’t care nor want to know about Mark.
“Come on, then,” you said, standing up. “Let’s eat lunch.”
He followed. “How come you didn’t get in the water?”
You shrugged. “Didn’t feel like getting wet.”
He shot you a creepy smile. “Oh, really?” Still maintaining eye contact, he hollowed his cheeks and sucked his juice.
You promptly pushed him back into the water, clothes, juice box and all. His fall was almost in slow motion, limbs flailing about and terror on his face as he submerged. You laughed shamelessly at him when he resurfaced, gasping for breath and wiping water and hair out of his eyes. You didn’t stay a moment longer. You knew better. You ran.
“Yah! You get back here!”
His yells fell on empty air. Serves him right. One more point to you. Finally.
…
The campfire that night was a spectacle.
It was always like that, wasn’t it? When people of an older generation got together, they would talk about memories. They would sing songs that were popular back when they were children. And it was fascinating to watch them let go of their stress and problems and become young again.
A fire roared in the centre. People gathered around it on wooden benches. Kids sat on the ground or ran around playing tag. Once every fifteen minutes, someone would throw something at the fire to make it blaze higher.
For the most part, you watched them. Some of the songs you were familiar with, and you sang along to them. You were glad Ten was with you, sitting right beside you, bodies pressed together. You restrained yourself from resting your head on his shoulder, to make a show in front of your mother.
Even here, surrounded by laughter and singing and happiness, you couldn’t help but constantly think about what would happen in the morning. The weekend would be over, taking the retreat with it. Ten would leave. You would go your separate ways. After all, business was business. And now, you weren’t sure you wanted that. It wasn’t because of the lack of immunity from your mother’s plans. It wasn’t even because of the prospect of coming clean to your father and seeing his hurt that you lied. It was simply because you would miss him. Even just his presence. You weren’t sure if you were ready for that.
You looked up at him, for once not distracted by his jawline. He looked so soft and ethereal, the flickering light of the fire falling on his face; sparks flying in the night background only emphasized it. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
But why were you so reluctant to let him go? You met him literally a week ago!
He sensed your eyes on him and turned his gaze onto you. Your faces were hardly a couple inches apart. He smiled gently at you, no teasing. Your heart ached. As if he could tell you were hurting, his fingers found yours in the dark, unseen by anyone else. You averted your eyes from his intense gaze—any longer and you might cry.
The only explanation you could find for your feelings was that, in just a week, he had become a sort of emotional pillar—with no one else to catch you, he had. And now you weren’t ready for the fall anymore.
In the midst of the chaos, your phone vibrated in your jacket pocket and you jumped, startled. Quickly pulling it out, you checked the message you had just received. It was from…Dad? You narrowed your eyes, worried. Dad never texted you if he could help it.
It was an audio message. Pretty long. You couldn’t hear a thing here. You glanced around the campfire, but he was nowhere to be seen. It had to be important.
“I’ll be right back,” you whispered in Ten’s ear, getting to your feet. He grasped your wrist. He seemed concerned, a question in his features. Should I come with you? Your expression was clear. I’ll be fine. He nodded, releasing his grip on you.
You stepped over the children and around the benches, jogging to the peace around the cabins. Pulling out your earphones, you plugged it into your phone. You pressed play.
“…her classmate, am I correct?”
You were confused. That was your Dad’s voice, wasn’t it? Silence. You strained to hear, increasing the volume.
“…I respect you very much, sir—“ you gasped. Ten? Your Dad talked to him, then? “—as a businessman, but more so as her father. So I’m not going to lie to you.”
Wait. What?
You heard a sigh. Was he actually going to tell your father that you weren’t—
“I’m not her boyfriend.”
Fuck.
“I’m not her classmate, either.”
Double fuck.
“I’m just a broke engineer in need of a job who jumped at the thought of making a little money. I was desperate.”
You didn’t want to know how heartbroken your father must have been. Hadn’t he asked you specifically if Ten was after your money?
“But, sir—I don’t see it the way you’re thinking. Because…the first time I saw her? on a bridge, looking ready to jump off. Just a girl with problems she refused to tell me. I didn’t see money. I didn't see a price over her head. She was just a girl who wanted comfort but didn’t know how to ask for it.”
Your breath hitched. Tears pricked at your eyes.
“…But I was still broke and turned down thrice, so…when she came to me asking me if I would come with her to a party for pay, I accepted it. I thought it was the smart thing to do. But—“ a frustrated noise sounded in your ears. “I didn't—I didn’t bargain for this.”
“Bargain for what?”
There was a long silence. “Your daughter is so beautiful, sir. So beautifully broken. She can’t speak, so she writes. And that expresses what she means far better than anyone could explain. She’s just a girl who wants to live and feel and she’s—no offence, sir—she’s stuck in a place where she can’t. And I can see it, sir. I can see what she’s trying to say, deep down. She’s not closed off, or stuck up, or arrogant, or anything—not when you learn to understand her.”
You closed your eyes, a tear running down your cheek.
“…What I’m trying to say is, it’s not about the money, sir. Not anymore. I—“
A hand on your shoulder. You flinched, caught by surprise. You swivelled around.
Ten stood before you, confusion and worry etched on his face. You heard a muffled ‘are you okay’ fall from his lips. You broke down, falling into his arms, tears flowing freely now. An earbud dropped out of one of your ears.
“You didn’t come back, so I came out here looking for you,” you heard him say. “What’s going on—what are you listening to?”
He pushed you away from him to see your stained face. Wordlessly, you lifted an earbud to his ear.
“—when or how it happened—“ his expression morphed into shock, fear almost, “—I think I fell in love with her.”
The recording ended.
He couldn’t seem to look you in the eye. “Y/N, I’m sorry if—“
You cut him off, yanking on his shirt and crashing your lips onto his. He made a noise of surprise, but kissed you back fervently. Your arms snaked up to hook around his neck, and his hands gripped your hips, squeezing lightly. A strangled sort of noise emerged from the back of your throat, much to your embarrassment. You kissed again and again, not separating more than a second for a gasp of air. It was when the earbuds fell out of both of your ears that you broke apart.
He looked so disoriented. “Y/N—“
“Idiot,” you snarled. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”
“I—damn, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know he was recording—was it a bad idea to tell him the truth?”
You stared at him, your chest heaving, a million thoughts shooting through your brain, too stunned to do more than what you just did.
So you kissed him again.
…
BANG!
The sound of your cabin door slamming shut echoed throughout the room. You were sure that the entire club must have heard it, but you couldn’t care less. Not when Ten was kissing you like that.
Your back hit the closed door, his hands on your hips pushing you roughly against it. Your head throbbed where it hid the wood, but you barely noticed. You felt one of his hands leave your waist and feel around. The click of a lock.
Your fingers found the hem of his shirt and they slipped under it. He let out a groan against your lips that had arousal shooting through you. His skin was hot under your fingertips.
“Just fucking—take it off,” he growled, his mouth still unrelenting. You obeyed, blindly fumbling for the buttons and nimbly undoing them. When you got through the last one, your hands wandered freely across his chest. He grunted, shrugging the damn thing off his shoulders so it pooled on the floor at his feet. You pulled away from his lips to draw air, but he didn’t seem to want to. He moved to a side, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your jaw and your neck. You could feel his breath on your skin and you outright moaned.
“Ten—“ you cut yourself off when his teeth grazed your collarbone, breath caught in your throat. His hands felt under your shirt, running up your sides and you shivered at the cold. “Ten!” No. Wait, wait, wait, what are we doing? “Ten, stop. Stop.” His hands fell to his sides and he stood up straight, looking at you anxiously.
“What—did I hurt you?” He panicked.
“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you assured, breathless. “It’s just—I don’t think I’m ready for…” You trailed off, suddenly shy.
“Huh?” He threw you a smirk, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “What are you talking about? I brought you in here to make out. What were you thinking?”
You smacked his bare chest. “Idiot.” You couldn’t stop the blush that spread across your cheeks.
He chuckled, eyes flickering to your lips. “Shut up and let me kiss you.”
…
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Both of you were lying comfortably in bed, wrapped around each other. Your head rested on his chest, content and happier than you had been in a long time. His arm drawing you near made you feel safe.
He didn’t reply right away, fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt. “How was I supposed to know you liked me back?”
“Irrelevant.”
“How? You literally brought me here promising pay. For all I knew, I was still just convenient for you. Just a guy to shield you from other people.”
“You really thought that?” You pinched him.
“Ow!” he slapped your hand away. “Until yesterday I did.”
“What made you change your mind?”
He took a deep breath. “Friday night when you said that poem you wrote? I thought maybe you were opening up to me, but then that night you didn’t answer my messages so then I thought you were regretting it or something.” He paused. “But yesterday night, I realized I meant something to you. I just didn’t know what I meant.”
“I feel like I’m just taking advantage of you,” you murmured. “Like I only keep you around so you can understand what I’m trying to say and sympathize.”
“What?” he sounded surprised. “If anything, I should feel that way. I talk about my problems more than you ever did.”
“Hm.” Your eyes were already drooping. You didn’t have much energy left to form words.
“Tired?”
You nodded. He laughed under his breath.
“Go to sleep, then. Goodnight.”
…
they tell me, it’s called serendipity
finding something you weren’t trying to see
a four leaf clover, a penny
just a bit of luck, you see?
but we?
was it a game of chance? or was it meant to be?
didn’t you know from the day we met?
it’s written in the stars
they haven’t lost hope in us yet
tell me this is real
all I know, all I feel
you make me happier than I could ever be
fate works her magic
on you
and on me
it’s called serendipity
what led me to you, and led you to me
our story was in the stars, and in the stars it will be
no longer a stranger
where did you come from? where will you go?
hush, don’t tell me
my heart already knows.
…
“Leaving so soon?”
Changmin’s voice floated towards us.
“Ah, hyung, good morning,” Ten greeted. “I really have to go. Congratulations again.”
You watched them, a smile dancing across your lips. His eyes darted to your intertwined fingers, but he didn’t comment.
“By the way, here’s my card.” Changmin pulled one of his business cards out of his pocket and handed it to Ten. “Interview’s on Wednesday. I expect you to be there.”
“In—interview?” Ten choked out. He turned to me. “You told him? I thought I said not to!”
Wait, why is this blame falling on you? “I didn’t tell him anything!”
“Dad told me,” your brother clarified. “So. You better show up.”
Ten was speechless. “I—thank you. I don’t know—“
“Oi.” Changmin cut him off. “I didn’t give you the job yet. If I’m not impressed, I’ll still reject you. Brother in law or not.”
Ten nodded. “Understood. I won’t let you down, hyung.”
Changmin grinned fondly at him, ruffling his hair. “I hope so.”
…
This was it. For now. Ten’s apartment building loomed in front of you like a prison ready to take him away, back to his life. You didn’t want to let go of his hand as he bounced up the stairs. On the last flight of steps before levelling out onto his floor, you stopped. He looked back at you, puzzled.
You drew in a breath, taking out a piece of paper from your pocket. “I think I still owe something.” He recognized what you were holding. A cheque. Fifty thousand, as promised. His face fell.
“No. Y/N. Come on,” he said seriously. “I can’t take that from you. Not anymore. Drop it, okay? You don’t owe me anything.”
“I made a promise, Ten.” You forced his hand open and shoved the cheque into his palm. “If you don’t want it, give it to the academy. You all need it more than I do.”
His shock was apparent. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
He stood there stunned for a moment, before rushing to you and pulling you into a bear hug. You relished the warmth he radiated. Rubbing your back, he mumbled, “Thank you so much.”
“Well, well, what do we have here?”
Ten’s roommate’s voice had you jumping apart. He sat on the top step, chin in his palms, watching us like a movie.
“Hyung, for fuck’s sake,” Ten chided.
You knew your time here was up. “I should be getting home. I’ll see you at the company, Ten.” You leaned up to kiss his cheek delicately. “Don’t expect any special treatment for dating the boss’ sister, yeah?” You giggled, swiftly turning away and jogging down the stairs. As you retreated, you could hear Taeyong spluttering in shock.
“What does that mean?!”
…
You exited the building, the wind catching your hair. The sun was high and bright in the blue sky (well partly blue). The trees were multi-coloured and gorgeous. You never seemed to notice just how beautiful the world really was, and it could only get even more so. Winter was fast approaching, but in your heart, spring flowers were already blooming. You lifted your eyes to the heavens, in a silent word of thanks.
Even though Changmin wasn’t there to see it, you smiled.
…
it’s called serendipity
and it’s written in the stars
now
and forever
I will never be too far
……
Epilogue—
“Come on, guys, let’s take it from the top.” Ten clapped his hands for attention, walking over to the stereo set to rewind the song playing. “Alright! You ready?”
“Yes, hyung!” Six eager but tired voices answered. He snickered. It was Friday and all of them were exhausted from a week’s practice. He pressed play.
“Five, six, seven, eight!” Ten counted the beat, going through the motions along with the boys. “Up, then down, then bam, bam, bam! Good! Okay, keep going!”
The boys preened at the praise, carefully executing the steps Taeyong had painstakingly choreographed. Ten walked around the room, correcting their movements and showing them a simpler way of doing the same step, with less effort.
A knock at the door caused him to stop, confused and a little irritated. He stopped the music and went to the door. “Who’s—“
His jaw dropped.
“Hey, baby,” you greeted him, pecking his lips and letting yourself into the practice room.
Ten stood there, frozen, fingers touching his lips and smiling to himself. Your arrival had taken him completely by surprise.
“Noona!” A chorus of happy noises followed their greeting. You knelt on the floor as Jisung raced into your arms for a hug. Out of the boys in the class, he was the youngest, at only four and a half years old, and by far the most attached to you.
“Hey guys. Hey Jisungie,” you said, wrapping your arms around the little boy and manoeuvring both of you so you were sitting and he was in your lap. He seemed to burrow himself closer to you.
You heard Ten’s footsteps approach you. “I thought you weren’t coming back until Monday.”
“I thought I would surprise you,” you replied smoothly. “I went to the office but they said you took a day off.”
“Hm. Yeah.” He knelt beside you. “Taeyong’s sick, so he asked me to cover for him today. Tomorrow’s my day to come in anyway.”
You knew this conversation was boring for the boys, so you changed the topic. “Hey, guys, I have a surprise for you!” Reaching back secretly into your backpack, you pulled out (with some difficulty) two boxes of assorted chocolates. ‘Wahh’s and cheering ensued. You set the boxes down in front of you and all the boys gathered around it. Knowing Jisung wouldn’t be getting much without a fight, you helped them tear open one box and showed it to him. “Which one do you want, Jisungie?” He shyly picked up a round piece of chocolate and popped it into his mouth.
“Haechan, don’t make so much noise!” Ten hissed at the boy making screeching sounds in delight. “Classes are still going on!” He looked at you longingly, wanting nothing more than to talk to you—alone. “Guys, take a break. I’ll be right back, okay?” You lifted Jisung off your lap and set him on the floor, adjusting his hair. “Don’t start fighting. And share!”
You giggled as he dragged you out of the room towards the staff room at the end of the hall.
“Jisung’s gotten taller since I last saw him,” you remarked. His expression softened.
“He really has. He’s gonna end up taller than any of them, you see.”
The academy had flourished significantly since the day you first set foot in it up to now. A fresh coat of blue was painted on the walls. The training rooms fit mirrors into their walls. Students were pouring in.
Once inside the staff room, he pulled you into a needy hug, holding you tight. “I missed you.”
“I was only away for a week, Ten.”
“It wasn’t a week. It was nine days. That’s too long.” You could practically hear the pout in his voice. “How was the trip anyway?”
You set your backpack on the table and hopped up onto it. He pried your knees apart and stood between them. Your arms rested on his shoulders. “It was beautiful. I never knew London was such a pretty place. I want to go there with you someday.”
“Maybe we can. Did the editors say anything about your manuscript?” He looked so hopeful.
You shrugged. “They liked it.”
“And?”
“Hmm.” You acted mysterious. “They might have agreed to publish it.”
“What?!” he shouted, shaking you in glee. “You’re serious?!”
“I am,” you answered, laughing at his expression, scarcely noticing the bell going off.
“That’s amazing, baby. I’m proud of you.”
You leaned in to kiss him. He sighed, as if he had been so deprived of your lips for the past week. Your fingers pulled at his hair.
“What the—oh.”
You broke apart, seeing that Jaehyun had walked inside and stopped short, looking disgusted. He forced a smile. “Hey, Y/N. You’re back?”
Ten reluctantly stepped away from you as you dug around in your backpack for Jaehyun’s gift.
“Chocolates?” he asked, face lighting up. Chocolate really was universal. “Thanks!”
“Don’t I get a gift?” Ten whined as Jaehyun went to eat his lunch in a corner.
You tugged him closer to whisper in his ear. “I don’t think I can give you your gift in public.”
He inhaled sharply, glancing at Jae to see if he heard anything. “Do me a favour. Keep your mouth shut until I can send these boys home, okay?”
“Mmm,” you hummed, drawing him in for another kiss. Before he could deepen it, he suddenly pitched forward, your teeth clashing. The clang of metal reverberated in the room.
“Ow!” Ten cried, rubbing the back of his head. You spotted the missile on the floor. A spoon. “What the heck, Jae?”
“Not in front of my lunch, for fuck’s sake. You guys are gross.” Jae scrunched up his nose.
Ten threw him a nasty look but complied, leading you outside.
“He’s bitter,” Ten explained. “Broke up three days ago.”
“Ouch.” You sympathized. Ten hugged you again, not able to function without you anymore. You let him. His warmth was a welcome change after the cold hotel room you had stayed at in London. You were content. Life was good. A loud yelp from the classroom brought Ten’s attention back to his boys.
“I should really go and stop them before they cover the floor in chocolate.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why you thought giving them sugar was a good idea.” He made a move toward the door, but you grabbed his arm.
“Wait,” you said. “I have to ask you something.” He nodded for you to continue. “Well, you know Minnie’s getting married next month, right? They expect me to bring someone along.” You smiled mischievously. “So…”
“Will you be my date?”
…
I am the sweat
beading on your forehead
and the pounding of your heart
I am the madness
that fills your mind
and threatens to tear you apart
let me kiss your lips dry
and breathe life into your veins
let me make love to you
until your eyes can’t stay awake
can you ever look
at the bruises on my heart
and say you mean nothing to me?
darling, it’s written in the stars
and they call it serendipity.
_
fin.
#nct#wayv#ten#nct ten#wayv ten#ten chittapon#nct scenarios#wayv scenarios#nct masterlist#wayv masterlist#nct imagines#wayv imagines#nct taeyong#nct mark#nct jaehyun#nct jisung#nct haechan#tvxq changmin#tvxq yunho#kpop#kpop imagines#kpop scenarios#love#life#fluffy#angst#suggestive#nct smut#wayv smut#escort!au
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Feral - A Labyrinth Story
Five
Getting herself out of the forest was far easier said than done. Before she even turned around, Sarah knew the maze would be gone and, sure enough, solid wall now stood where the stone path should have been. The only way to go from here was forward, she supposed. So with grim determination, she started off on a pitiful, weed-choked excuse of a path, keeping a sharp eye out for the "bad bad things" that supposedly lived there.
If there was one thing that Steve had provided, she mused to herself as she picked her way along the trail, it was distraction. Distraction from the neverending, watchful silence of the Labyrinth and, even more importantly, distraction against thinking about how much she hurt.
Sarah had always considered herself to be in reasonably good shape. She tried to set a good example for her daughter by eating nutritional foods, kept herself fit by taking long walks and bike rides with the kids. But traversing the Labyrinth, in comparison, felt more like being dumped headlong into a crash course of military boot camp.
Her entire body ached with the burn of overworked muscles and stung from the multiple lacerations she'd already received, coupled with the new ones she gained from forcing herself through tangles of thorny underbrush and stumbling over hidden rocks and tree roots. Her poor feet were receiving the worst damage, but when she eventually sat down to wipe the dirt and dried blood from her wounds with the hem of her shirt, she was relieved to find that most of the cuts were shallow and not particularly worrisome. Nothing that would require stitching, at any rate. Still, she knew proper attention would be needed if she hoped to stave off potential infection. Or at least a good cleaning.
"Where's a Rite Aid when you need one?" she muttered dryly as she leaned back against the mold-spotted, half-rotted trunk of the tree she currently rested under. The canopy over her head drooped like wilted celery, limbs hanging low with blackened, skeletal leaves clinging despondently to their ends. Most of the trees looked like this. In fact, the entire forest seemed on the verge of death. Clearly, whatever was infecting the Labyrinth had hit this part hard and it made Sarah sad to see it in such a state. She remembered that the forest had been beautiful during her last visit. Mysterious and slightly creepy, yes, but still beautiful.
At least it was cooler here, she mused as she ran her fingers tiredly through her knotted hair. The stagnant air didn't feel quite so stifling, even if the smell of dead, rotting things was stronger, as if the very ground had been saturated with it. She didn't think it was because of the Bog. That smell had been … undefinable. Definitely unforgettable. The rotted meat smell, while stomach-churningly foul, was still far more bearable than the burning stench of the Bog. She couldn't exactly recall how bad it had smelled, only that it had been bad and she hoped to never encounter it again.
Speaking of encountering bad things, she had yet to encounter a single one of the bad things Steve had warned her about before he'd scampered off with his tail between his legs. In fact, she hadn't seen so much as a squirrel since entering the forest. Lack of natural wildlife might have been odd and suspicious in normal situations, but given the state of this place she couldn't think it all that surprising. Anything living in it had probably fled for safer haven long ago. It made her think that maybe Steve's warnings had been a bit of an overreaction. The worst "bad thing" in this forest, she decided wryly, had to be the smell.
She should have known better. Really. Hadn't past experience already taught her that displaying any sort of confidence in the Labyrinth was grounds for immediate and potentially brutal retaliation?
The oubliette … the Cleaners … the Bog of Eternal Stench…
Or, in this case, the numerous pairs of wild red eyes, all fixed pointedly on her from the canopy of rotting branches.
Sarah froze in shock to discover that she'd at some point been surrounded by the group of … whatever they were. They'd moved so silently, she never even heard them coming, but now they crept down out of the trees with snarling grins and hungry eyes, weird and grossly misshapen … yet disturbingly familiar.
It took her a full minute to figure out exactly what she was looking at. Or what was looking at her. When she did, her heart dropped like a stone into her feet. It was the Fire Gang. Maybe. She thought so, anyway. It was hard to tell, honestly. She recognized the long, narrow snouts and bulging red eyes, the brilliantly red fur and thin, tufted tails. But as for the rest of them… They had been changed. Deformed.
Their wiry bodies glistened the same way the trees did, spotted with rot and mold. Their long, ropey limbs looked crooked, bent out of shape, as if they'd been put on backwards and left that way.
And they had too many of them, Sarah realized with horror. One Fiery ventured closer and she realized it had a third leg. A deer's leg, jammed in beside it's natural leg, the limb skeletal, the matted brown pelt filthy with grime and peeling off in strips.
Another Fiery had a mismatched pair of extra arms. One long and thin, mottled green, hung limply from its left side. A short, brown limb jutted from its right. Both arms glistened with clear signs of rot and decay.
Goblin arms, Sarah realized with horror and her stomach churned violently, threatened to rebel.
Movement in the tree directly above her caught her attention and she looked up and immediately wished she hadn't. The Fiery leered down at her, half of its face melded into the decapitated goblin head perched upon its misshapen neck. It, too, looked dead, slack-jawed with lolling black tongue and one milk-white eye hanging half from its socket, the other missing entirely. Most of the skin had rotted away to reveal bare, brown bone.
It was clear that while the limbs had somehow attached, they had not assimilated. They had not become a natural part of the Fierys and that was the source of the horrible smell. It was the smell of Fire Gang, of the rotted flesh they adorned.
Sarah lost control of herself, then, fell to her hands and knees and retched until nothing remained in her stomach and even after. Around her, shrieks and howls and screams erupted, filled the forest, echoed from the trees and the ground and the air. Feral, uncontrolled, terrifying. The Fireys were laughing at her and the maniacal shrieks were enough to stand all of her hair on end, sent her scrambling to her feet in preparation to flee for her life—
A hand suddenly clamped across her mouth as a thin, hard arm snaked around her torso, pinned her arms to her sides and hauled her back against another body. She squealed in shock, voice muffled as she tensed to fight off her sudden assailant, until a voice hissed sharply into her ear, "Do. Not. Run." She went absolutely still as it continued, "If you run, they will chase. And you will end up exactly like those other poor fools who dared flee their madness."
Sarah turned her head, just far enough to catch the graceful profile of a face framed by pale hair from the corner of her eye. Her heart skipped several beats and for a moment she thought she was looking at Jareth … but the illusion broke as she realized that this face looked decidedly more feminine; rounded cheeks, fuller lips and a smooth, slender jawline. And the hair wasn't blonde, it was pure, snowy white.
That voice, though…
"I'm going to remove my hand now," the stranger murmured in a soft, husky lilt only a few octaves higher than Jareth's silky tones. "Do not scream. That will also trigger their attack." Sarah nodded and was immediately freed. A hand threaded through hers, clinging tight. "We are going to leave now. I'll guide you. Walk slowly. Do not look at them. Do not heed their laughter. Do not give in to the urge to run. Or you will die."
Sarah meekly allowed herself to be led away from the Fire Gang. Their laughter died, turned to growls and snarls as she passed through the circle. One of them lunged, snapped at her hand and she jerked away with a scream quickly caught behind clenched teeth. The laughter started again, snickers and cackles that set her teeth on edge and made her legs tense and shake with the overwhelming desire to escape. It only grew stronger when she risked a peek back and realized the entire group of them had vanished into the trees and now followed from above, eyes glowing between blackened boughs.
The hand holding hers tightened in warning, grip strengthening until she felt her bones creak. She hissed in protest but the pain grounded her, forced the maddening cackles out of her brain. She drew in deep breaths to steady her nerves. Distraction. She needed a distraction. "Wh-what happened to them?" she whispered, unable to scrub the images of their grotesque forms from her mind.
"The sickness took them," her rescuer replied. "They were the first to succumb to the pollution of the magic, being as tied to the forest as they are. But they are not the only, so we must be wary on our journey."
Our?
Did that mean the stranger planned on coming with her? Sarah cast surreptitious glances at … him? Her? She couldn't tell by the beautifully androgynous face, and layered gray robes revealed nothing of gender. Even the husky voice could have belonged to either. But it hardly seemed polite to just come out and ask, so she finally settled on, "Who are you, exactly?"
"I am … an ally," came the vague response. "You may call me Fable."
Sarah nodded, decided the name sounded as masculine as anything. Sort of. "My name's—"
"Sarah. Yes, I know." At her surprised glance, Fable's lips quirked. "Sarah Williams. The one who got away."
"How—?" She blinked. "How did you know that?"
"I know everything," he sniffed.
She was about to ask how it was possible for him to know everything when she was rudely interrupted by the brown goblin arm that came flying out of nowhere and hit the tree just in front of her with a dull, wet smack. Putrid ichor splattered the side of her face and she recoiled with horror and disgust; only Fable's tight grasp on her hand kept her from bolting as shrieks and howls filled the air with renewed vigor.
"I don't understand. Why don't they just attack us?" she muttered through gritted teeth as she tightened her own grip on her lifeline.
"They cannot," Fable murmured, used the sleeve of his robe to gently wipe the gore from her cheek. "In this twisted game, their prey must flee before they attack. If you do not run, they cannot chase."
That still didn't make much sense, but Sarah decided this was a case of not looking a gift horse in the mouth, so she gritted her teeth and did her best to block out the hair-raising cackles as her guide led her through the forest. The Fierys were persistent, she could give them that much. They continued to prowl the trees above them, howling and goading with the occasional tossed arm or leg, all aimed with uncanny accuracy. The deer leg nearly clipped Fable on the head, who snarled in response—a truly savage sound, in Sarah's opinion—but otherwise made no retaliation.
Not a single one of the Fierys spoke. It was as if they'd lost all sense of reason, been reduced to mere animals. Rabid, completely psychotic animals. Sarah hadn't liked the Fire Gang much during their first meeting but it still made her heartsick to see them reduced to this. So it was with great relief when they finally pushed through a tall thicket of thorny brambles and found themselves standing before another great stone wall.
The howls grew to a crazed frenzy as the Fierys seemed to realize that their prey was about to escape. They screamed and cavorted and leaped through the trees like howler monkeys, and it felt as if each wail might physically pierce Sarah's skull and straight into her brain. She was forced to close her eyes against the ensuing dizziness and even Fable looked paler and more drawn as he felt along the wall. He paused and gave a mighty shove against a particular stone, and a large section simply collapsed.
He grabbed Sarah by the arm and shoved her through the jagged opening, quickly followed, and the instant they landed on hard, stone floor, the screaming laughter abruptly cut off. Startled, Sarah glanced behind her to find the opening gone, replaced by a bracket in which a torch burned brightly. The forest had vanished completely and she now found herself in a large, empty stone chamber. "Wh-where are we now?" she asked through chattering teeth, her entire body trembling in the aftermath of adrenaline and shock and genuine, gut-wrenching fear.
"The castle," came the simple reply. "You were trying to come here, were you not?"
"Well, yes. But how did you—?" She cut herself off with a shake of her head. "Never mind. You know everything, I almost forgot."
Fable smirked, and it was such a familiar expression that she did a double-take. "I—Have we met before?" she stuttered, confused. "Why does it feel like I know you?"
He shrugged. "Perhaps I just have one of those faces?" He chuckled at her dirty look, pointed to a set of stairs at the far end of the chamber. "Those will take you to the ones you seek," he advised.
She heaved a sigh and struggled to her feet as exhaustion began to catch up with her. Now that the adrenaline was draining away, her body throbbed with renewed vigor. "Thank you," she breathed. "I don't know how to repay you for all of your help."
"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure we can come up with something." And the slow smile he graced her with was such a disturbing combination of mischievous and feral that she thought it best not to comment further, instead turned to stumble over to the stairs. "Are you coming?" She glanced over her shoulder to find him simply standing there, watching after her.
"I'll be along," he promised vaguely, made a little shooing motion with one hand.
Having no reason to press him into going with her, she merely shrugged and continued on her way.
Chapter Six
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purely academic
A short one-shot I wrote months ago and recently edited. Featuring Rosalind and Solas having a bit of a disagreement about magic in the Hinterlands. Guest-starring @rhetoricalrogue ‘s sons, Vincent and Rolfe briefly.
“A circle mage is restricted from what I can see and learns from fear rather than fact.” There was something about Solas’s voice and how it grated on Rosalind’s nerves. Why she had agreed to trekking out towards this ancient artifact he had claimed to ‘sense’ was beyond her, but she was trying to be a team player. Vincent wasn’t far behind them, helping a few of their recruits make it back to the safety of camp, but Roz and Solas had elected to move ahead. Initially the fellow apostate had intrigued her, especially with his differing views of magic.
Now, however, she was regretting her choice.
Instead she found herself gritting her teeth against the arrogance and smugness that oozed from him as he spoke of things he did not understand. The midday sun and her need to snack on something soon didn’t exactly help matters either.
“I doubt you can be a good judge of the Circle when you’ve never experienced it,” Roz couldn’t help the bite behind her words or the sharp edge that laced her tone as she paused to pluck fresh elfroot from the ground.
“True, I have not experienced it,” Solas conceded a moment, but he didn’t stop there, “but that does not mean I’m wrong about it. The Circle fears what it does not understand and teaches that as the basis of their magic rather than control of understanding of the magic that lies just beyond the veil.”
That was also annoying. “And how would you suggest teaching mages, oh wise one?” Fine, she could have been a little less sarcastic, but her temper was seeing a steady rise as they paused, ducking behind a few rocks, watching as bandits patrolled past. It may not have been the best idea, strategically, to send two mages without backup into the field, but Roz would have preferred to fight the bandits rather than try to understand Solas.
To his credit, he didn’t miss the blatant sarcasm that dripped from her words, but he also didn’t rise to her baiting. “Perhaps if you and your Chantry taught that magic wasn’t meant to be feared,” He hissed under his breath, both of their eyes watching as the bandits paused and then continued on, allowing them to dart away and into cover again, “and learned to exist peacefully with magic. It’s not all demons and danger beyond the veil.”
“Pardon you, but have you never been tempted by one?” Roz argued softly, blowing a strand of red that had escaped her braid away from her face. “If you had ever gone through a Harrowing, you might say differently.” Her own had been particularly mild, all things considered: a desire demon had told her she might be beautiful, but Roz hadn’t taken the bait. Others hadn’t been so lucky when they were confronted with the spirits and demons that lay beyond the veil.
“No, but I know that demons are merely spirits whose intents have been twisted beyond their true purpose. There’s-” and he paused a moment with the briefest hint of hesitation, “-or well, there may be a way for all to exist peacefully together to prevent places like the Circle from existing.”
“You’re speaking theoretically,” Roz snorted derisively, “it’s purely academic that anything like that could be possible.”
“I have seen it-” Solas began but Roz cut him off at the pass.
“Where, the Fade?” She huffed, irritated with the typical response she heard from him. “I’ve seen quite a lot in the fade, and very little of it remains true.” Pausing to catch her breath before they tackled the next hill, she met his gaze steadily. “I get it, you look down on Circle mages, you don’t have to beat around the bush and come up with compelling arguments against my education.”
“I am merely pointing out a lapse in it, not a complete lack of it.” Solas replied, his own tone just as sharp as hers. Yet he did not raise his voice. “That does not imply that I look down on you or the Herald for your background.”
“How terribly kind of you,” Roz murmured dryly. “There’s still the fact that you have told me, for the last quarter mile I might add, just what I am missing from my own knowledge base, all of which you have never had or experienced yourself.” Her eyes narrowed slightly, starting her pace again. “Just where did you say you learned your magic?”
He didn’t reply, picking up speed as they neared their destination. “It’s close,” he mumbled, Roz barely catching herself as he stopped (and she nearly ran into his back). “We should wait for the Herald to catch up with the others. Who knows what might be beyond the cave entrance.”
“Fine,” It wasn’t any trouble for Roz as she plopped down on a log, grateful it didn’t sink beneath her weight. That had already happened once before and she knew she would hear Sera’s gleeful cackle for a long time because of it. She never meant it in an unkind way; Sera was simply young and also blessed with a lithe frame that Roz knew she’d never have. They were an odd bunch so far; not that Roz was complaining, but she still wasn’t sure how any of them fit into the organization as a whole.
“You don’t know much about how magic works within the Circle,” Roz began, filling the silence between them, “so let me be the first to tell you that you shouldn’t judge us so harshly. Do you know what happens to mages who can't control their powers or who don't learn to respect the things beyond your precious veil? They die, become tranquil, are cut from their lives. I've seen enough of it to know that to be certain."
“You lost someone?” He asked, an innocent question with heavy connotations.
“I’ve lost many people, Solas.” Some to the grip of the Circle, some to the temptations of the fade and still many more in search of their freedom that they only found with death.
They were silent for longer than Roz anticipated. Solas had this strange ability to go still, his body unmoving in a state of tranquility that Roz had never been able to master. Spirit magic, she thought, recognizing the faint hint of magic in the air, her gaze shifting from him to the expanse before her. Hills, trees, grass and more fighting than anyone wanted to see. Things were starting to calm down since both the renegade templars and more radical rebel mages had been stopped, but this land was still far too embroiled in turmoil for her liking.
So lost in her own thoughts, she almost missed the arrow as it came whistling through the air. There was a shout of her name and Roz glanced up in time to throw up a shimmering blue barrier. “Shit!” She snarled, standing as a small group of highwaymen stumbled upon her and Solas. “Shit, shit, shit!”
There was something to be said about battle magic that she had never quite learned until her months spent on the run among the rebels. A rhythm and flow that she had stumbled over and nearly gotten herself killed over. Compassion and kindness were tools she could employ when she was with the people more gravely affected by the war around them; as much as she wanted to see these men and women as human beings, first and foremost, she knew that if they were given the chance, she would be lying in a pool of her own blood.
So Roz learned to fight without mercy in the hills and along the trails. Staying alive in the heat of battle was far better than having the higher ground but dead because of it.
Her stave gripped in her hands, Roz called forth fire from within, channeling the magic that she knew best within the depths of her soul. Solas worked with ice as he frozen and zapped while she roared and scorched the earth around her.
Despite whatever disagreements they were having, Roz had to admit that he was skilled with his magic. Perhaps trained differently with a little more wild magic that coiled out from under his control, but powerful nonetheless. There wasn’t any time to pause and perhaps reevaluate her own tactics as she smelled the faint traces of smoke, not from her own scorching but unnatural and faintly medicinal.
Roz had yet to master turning quickly. The scent of soot and nightshade caught her off-guard as she stumbled away from the dual daggers that were thrust towards her. One of the blades sliced into her sleeve, though it didn’t draw blood as she retracted her hand quickly. She had her stave up, blocking what she could as she mustered up mana to hopefully send the assassin flying away.
She felt it first rather than spotted it. It was a familiar tension in the air, a bow strung taut as she took in a breath and recognized a spell coming her way. She knew this magic and snarled fire from her fingertips as lightning struck at her feet. The assassin sizzled and collapsed, leaving the last of the bandits dealt with.
“Talk about dramatic timing,” Roz teased Vincent, who was hurrying across the field towards her and Solas. “Has anyone told you that you could spare just a few moments before things get dire before you make a grand entrance?”
“Dramatic timing runs in the blood,” Rolfe Trevelyan drawled as Vincent snorted. Ignoring his half brother, the Herald reached out to grasp her arm.
“You’re not hurt? I saw him-” He attempted to lift the frayed sleeve up to check and Roz drew back quickly.
“I’m fine, promise, not a scratch on me,” She replied, perhaps a little too quickly. Her stomach knotted though at the thought of what he might discover, dizzy with the implications that lay there. “Well, except for nearly getting sizzled by lightning, but I think I’ll survive that one.”
Solas was watching her though, a strange look on his face as the group gathered to loot what they could off the dead. Roz adjusted her sleeve, attempting to keep her arms covered. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she bent to grasp another bunch of elfroot to add to her growing collection.
His hand was cool on her skin and Roz flinched. “It seems I’m not the only one experimenting in what many believe should be purely academic.” It was a statement of fact, not an accusation, but his gaze said it all without him needing to breathe a word.
“Don’t.” She steeled herself for any rebuttals he might have, a snarl on her lips. She had done what it took to survive; she wasn’t going to let him tell her otherwise. But, for one of the first times, he surprised her and took away the sharp edges for a moment.
Solas said nothing. Instead, he let go of her arm and stepped away. Straightening himself, he turned to Vincent. “The artifact is nearby. When you’re ready, I think moving to it will be our best course of action.”
Roz still didn’t like him. But at least she had a feeling that she wouldn’t get any trouble from him about this. The rest was left to be seen.
#dragon age fanfic#dragon age: inquisition#fake married trope verse#rosalind trevelyan#solas#rolfe trevelyan#vincent trevelyan#my writing#i haven't written in forever so have this mess that it somewhat decent
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Monster; Backstory Drabble (Mason) one-shot
A/N: various triggers are contained within this drabble (mostly pertaining to abuse) so read at your own discretion. I have put it under a cut because of length.
Thank you
France, early 1800's
The first word I ever spoke was "monster".
It was a word I'd often heard spoken. Perhaps I thought it was my name. I was called by nothing else.
Looking back, I suppose it made sense that it was the first intelligent sound to ever pass my lips. It wasn't, however, the best word to build the foundation of language and communication.
Compared to the development of most other children, I was far too old to be only just learning to speak. Birthdays were never celebrated. I may have been five. I may have been eight. Whatever age I was, it made no difference. "Monster" was what I heard. "Monster" was what I was called and thus I repeated it.
There was no praise for it. No sort of recognition save for narrowed eyes and a backhand across my temple. The blow stung and I learned retribution. They were allowed to say this word, among the many other words and sounds that came from them, but I could not. It was a lesson quickly learned.
It was only when darkness fell and the small sliver of light that shown through the thin crack that served as a window had fallen away and I was alone that I tried out the sound again. It felt strange, my tongue heavy and my lips parting only enough to quietly utter it. Practice, I suppose.
I repeated the word over and over again, until it finally felt right coming from my mouth. Even so, the connotations were harsh. Somehow, even with limited language and understanding I knew this word was not kind. It was not something to be proud of saying.
But it was all I had.
I was very small on the day I learned I was different, when I first discovered the meaning of that word.
My life was isolated. There was only one who would come to me. A female, soft and warm, with clothing that made a swishing sound when she moved.
Her face wasn't kind, but she was beautiful. High, angular cheekbones, wide-set eyes in the shade of a clear sky, moonlight colored skin. Her hair was silken and like sunshine; I touched it once, but it lacked the same sensation. That was also cause for retribution. I was not to touch. Only look.
Her mouth was always set in a line, her lips thin and nearly colorless. This was the only face I knew she had. I never saw her smile or even laugh.
She came once a day, or every other day, but never longer than a few. I measured time by the light that filtered in. The light would reach the wall and climb up in a fascinating shimmer and then the door would open and she would appear. Some days, the light would climb the wall, then higher, and the darkness would fall again, and still she would not come.
When she entered the room, scents would follow her. They were pleasant odors, overall. There was a scent I associated with her, something soft and pleasing. And then there were the smells of food.
There was always a pain in my middle, and it seemed to tighten when I smelled food. My instinct was to eat it and more. The food she brought to me was never enough. It only provided necessary sustenance, but the gnawing in my middle told me I could've had that and much more before I could be satisfied.
This time when she entered, she didn't bring food. The scents were absent. The tightening I felt only grew and I made a small sound of distress. It had been some time since she had been here, since she had lost brought food. The light on the wall had moved many times.
She wasn't empty handed though. There was an object, something wrapped in an old black cloth. I wasn't aware of what it was, only that I was very curious about it. Despite that, I didn't move. I remained where I was, seating on the cold floor. I stared up at her and waited.
Her thin lips pursed slightly. She didn't move, save to shut the door behind her. She stood before it, as she always did. I knew better than to try to approach it. Twice, I had tried to go through the door after her, and twice I had been left with a painful touch that lingered in ugly colors on my bare arms. Retribution. Lesson learned.
I kept my attention on her. A small sigh escaped her as she finally moved forward. She spoke something, her voice and tone conveying a quiet sort of command. Though I could not understand what she said, I moved forward anyway. Another lesson learned regarding disobedience and more bruises. I would rather avoid it.
The closer I got to her, the sterner she set her mouth, until it appeared nothing remained of her lips. I trembled, awaiting some sort of punishment. For what, I did not know. My gaze fell on the object she carried, and despite my apprehension to be near her, I was fascinated.
The folds of the cloth were opened to reveal a shining, shimmering surface. At once, I was transfixed by the smooth object and my hand reached out for it before I could stop myself.
There came a sharp sound from her, then another that coincided with my hand being struck. I drew my hand back quickly, and the next moment, I was in the furthest corner of the room from her. I had moved faster than I could remember having moved before.
The look on her face was complete shock. Rarely had I seen her display these features before--her mouth agape, her eyes wide--nor had I scented such a sour aroma. I couldn't define it, but it was overpowering enough that it became etched within my memory and associated with her reaction.
Oh, I had done something terrible, I realized. Something beyond the simple punishments I had received before.
I was correct in my assumption when she made a gesture with her arm, her face screwing up in an ugly grimace. I had seen this face before, just before being struck. Unbidden, a small whimper came from me and I buried my face against my shoulder, shutting out my eyes.
She spoke faster, the unknown words flying at me. I couldn't understand them, but I knew the tone behind it. Anger.
I didn't move. I trembled. I kept my face down and my eyes closed. It didn't stop me from hearing her usually gentle footfalls become hard clicks across the stone as she neared me. Her hand closed around my upper arm and I was jerked roughly to my feet.
I kept my eyes closed. I did not want to see her face. I did not want to see the blow coming. It was inevitable and I didn't want it.
Something, instead, was thrust against my chest. It was smooth, cold through the thin, dirty fabric of the shirt I wore. Her fingers were still biting into my flesh, surely leaving more of those ugly colors where her digits pressed.
Surprised by the object now against me, my fingers automatically sought it to keep it against me. Still, however, I did not open my eyes. I would not look.
Having no words, the only sounds that came from me was that wounded sound, a cry of distress and pain. It seemed to serve to only make her voice rise higher in volume and I felt my fingers relax around the object. It began to slide from my grasp, but it was pushed against me again.
At her insistent tone, I forced myself to open my eyes and look down. It was the object from the black cloth--the smooth, round, shining thing that had so taken my attention. I had no understanding of what this was, or what it meant, but she had given it to me.
Among my confusion was curiosity and fear. The former could be sated, and the latter only repressed. The object shook in my small hands and I lifted it, once more expecting a blow. I stared at the object.
No. I stared into the object.
It was unlike anything I had seen before. The surface seemed to hold the light that came in through the crack, and that was what caught my attention. Fascinated and confused, I looked from the object, to the crack, then back again. It was the same.
How was this possible?
And this was my first experience in seeing a mirror.
The woman made a sound of displeasure, and more words I didn't understand was spoken. I gave a sudden gasp when her fingers suddenly tangled in the hair at the back of my head and the object was jerked from my hands in a sudden angry motion. It was held up, thrust right into my line of vision and then I saw. For the first time, I saw it.
My reflection.
Wide, deep blue shimmering eyes were locked on me, unable to escape my vision. They were the brightest thing I had ever seen, even brighter than the glimpses of pinpoint light outside the crack when the rest of the world had gone dark.
I reached out to touch them, but my fingers only grazed a smooth, cold surface. My fingertips shown in the image and I withdrew them. I was beginning to catch on. What this thing held within it was also held outside, showing all of the truth that surrounded it.
Tentatively, I reached out again. I touched the surface where I saw skin, withdrawing to touch my own face and feeling the difference of flesh and bone verses glass. Slowly, my fingertips ran along the bridge of my nose, the tip of it, my lips, my teeth, my chin. Then, I began to touch along the side of my jaw, feeling the hard protrusions I saw within the glass. I had touched them before, had felt this natural configuration of my features, but I had never given it a thought. It was simply was.
There was something about this. Some reason why she was holding this glass to my face with a patience she had never revealed to me before. Even with my limited knowledge, there was something unsettling about this. What was I meant to learn here?
Very slowly, I lifted my eyes to stare at her face. Her lips were like my own, I realized. Thin, straight-lined. Her eyes, however as deep as the sky, were unlike my own that had shimmered so beautifully in the reflection. She had a nose, as I did. Her skin was the same as mine.
I began to understand. I began to see. We were alike. These were our similarities.
Before I could stop myself, I began to reach out. My fingertips touched the side of her face. She flinched away and I jerked my hand back quickly at the movement, startled. What I felt of her jawline in that all too brief moment of contact was smooth. Lacking in something I had and she didn't.
She didn't have the protrusions on her face.
My brow furrowed as my undeveloped mind tried to struggle with this new information and my head dipped until I found myself staring once more. There it was. My face. My terribly different face.
I once more looked up at her to see that grimace again, that sneered that showed her teeth. A word was spat. I could feel the spray of the spittle thrown into my face at the vehemence of that one single word.
And that was when I reached a new peak in understanding. That was when I understood that word with such clarity it took my breath away.
"Monster."
It was such a revelation to me. I could only stand there, staring at my reflection in the glass until I could no longer see clearly. My face was wet again. I blinked and more tears fell on my cheeks.
She repeated the words with finality, as if to sear it into my mind and make it known that this was what she had intended me to learn all along with this cruel lesson.
I learned. And just like with everything else I had learned, of the retributions and punishments and harsh sounds and deep bruises, I wouldn't soon forget it.
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