#maybe one day if someone reminds me several months in advance and i can finally focus on making refs for my 3 ocs

[skunkes]

are you doing artfight this year???

ive not ever participated, always forget about it until its here, dont have any refs for my ocs, and won't be participating this year either ^_^

[aejiajia]

okay so here's my request babe : the prompt “when is the last time you ate?” with miss sujin and her dear friend kalaya, because i feel like inka is protective and attentive to sujin, and she knows that sometimes the girl tends not to pay attention to herself.. so yea! thank you in advance babe 💗

> Attentive

Warnings! : Self neglect, several mentions of medications for ADHD

Okay bbg i'm gonna be so fr with you seeing this request got me so excited i immediately started writing and hyperfocused on this until it was done.. congrats you broke through my procrastination issue. Fun fact, this post is glitched on my laptop.

Summary : Sujin forgets herself, but she has someone who reminds her.

Timeline : September 1st, 2023

Event!

Life is chaotic. Sujin’s life is chaotic. The born pink tour coming to an end, her career at an alltime high, the lingering effects of headlining so many stadiums, contract renewals happening while they’re still in America for performances, events she had to go to with her members, events she had to go to alone. All in all, she’d barely had a breather in the last months.

Truthfully, she couldn’t remember the last time she actually took her medications, wondering if she did when it was already too late and she was about to go on stage in 5 minutes. It had noticeable effect, less focus, easily distractible, what some might call too much energy, hyperfocusing on one single piece of make-up for hours which almost got her to be late on stage.

Now back in Korea, stepping into her apartment, it was the first moment of silence she’d had in months. It was kind of eerie- really. And she did not remember her medication tasting that shitty. 

The silence was too silent, which meant everything racing at her in her mind. She had things to do immediately tomorrow, last concert preparations, contract finalizing, solo preparations (why did she want to do that again already?)

There was a point at which the silence became loud, which was the final straw.

She picked her phone up from the table, scrolling through contacts. 

                                                                                                             [I’m back, missed u <3]

Thankfully- She’d gotten the hint.

The knock on her door didn’t take long and Sujin didn’t waste a second to open the door. 

“Hi there.” 

Sujin smiled, waving. “Hi Kal.” Sujin was one for nicknames, unoriginal ones maybe, but she always provided nicknames.

It took a moment for Sujin to correctly process, but she opened the door fully for Kalaya to step in. She hoped her medication would kick in soon or else this would be a long day.

Inka didn’t seem to mind, relieving Sujin as she closed the door behind the younger (okay, it was one year, but Sujin took as much advantage of being the unnie for once as she could). 

Inka sat down at the kitchen table wordlessy. She watched as Sujin processed before sitting across from her, barely containing a snicker.

“So.. Gocheok Sky Dome? That’s an achievement.”

Kalaya smiled, leaning back in her chair. 

Sujin huffed, giggling. “Full of those, apparently. Been a lot of those these past few months.” She hummed, taking a moment to recollect everywhere they’d been. Inka nodded. 

“So i heard.” 

Sujin bit her lip. “Did you watch any performances?”

“A few.” Kalaya responded, reaching across the table to hold Sujin’s hand. “You five did really well.”

Sujin smiled, genuine. Though still not being good at taking compliments very well, she changed the subject. “I’m happy you got your personal instagram. Now i can stop spamming the boys and spam only you instead.” 

Inka laughed, Sujin smiling at the sound. “Looking forward to it.”

A silence fell for a little while, comforting, not like the one when she’d stepped into her apartment.

Kalaya bit her lip, looking back up at Sujin. “So.. When’s the last time you ate?”

Sujin looked back, not having expecting the question.

She thought, she definitely ate day of their last concert, Rosé had dragged her out for a late night meal snack. She’d spent her last few days in L.A messing around with her members and trying out several diners and exploring. She landed back in Korea yesterday so that all amounts to..

“Yesterday morning?”

Just like Sujin hadn’t expected the question, Kalaya wasn’t expecting the answer. She took a second before answering.

“And you’re not hungry, at all?”

Sujin pat her stomach, pouting softly. “I at least haven’t noticed.” 

“Sujin..” 

“Say it.”

Inka sighed. “Sujin unnie.”

“Thank you.”

Kalaya rolled her eyes, but let Sujin bask in the honorific for a second. “You need to take care of yourself. Did you at least take your medications?” 

Sujin nodded, pointing back to the half full cup of water and the bottle of pills that she promised to herself she would clean up after texting Kalaya and then completely forgot about.

When Sujin whipped her head back around Inka already sat with her phone in hand, making Sujin tilt her head in confusion.

Inka looked up, raising a brow. “I’m ordering food, god knows you need it look at how pale you are. And i’m hungry too, it’s around dinner time anyway.” She hummed. “What would you like?” 

Sujin blinked, taking a second to let the information process before responding. “As long as it tastes good with kimchi.” 

Inka smiled. “Understood.” 

After ordering- and presumably texting if the furious typing and scoffs accompanied by a ‘oh my god Jisung.’- Kalaya put aside her phone, giving Sujin a soft smile. 

“So… did you have separate rooms, or..?” 

“We’re not having this conversation.” 

“Yes we are.”

“Okay, fine, who’s your mystery boyfriend?” 

“Okay, well you know what-”

“No no, this is an exchange now. Tell me and i’ll tell you.” 

“Fine fine, you first.” 

Sujin hummed. “No. No we did not.”

[animeomegas]

Omega!Obey Me characters forgetting a mating anniversary

Anon: reactions to their alpha missing an anniversary? or you could switch it and do reactions to realizing they forgot an anniversary. either or !

Anon part 2: hi! i’m the anon from the anniversary request. i was thinking maybe the obey me! fandom? whichever characters you like. my exams are coming to an end so i’m looking forward to spending hours on that app during the summer 😤😤 i hope you’re doing well ! 💕

(Hey hey!! I’m going to do their reactions to forgetting a mating anniversary, because they’ve been alive a long time, I imagine it would happen at least one hehe. Let’s see~)

Warnings: Mention of sex in Asmo’s section

Lucifer – He denies it at first. He can’t have forgotten, he would never forget something so important, you must have the date wrong. His response is very likely to make his alpha either more angry or more upset, and he inadvertently blows the whole thing out of proportion because he struggles to admit that he’s wrong. But when he realises that he is wrong? That he was so caught up in paperwork for Diavolo he did forget? It’s a hard pill to swallow. He would probably buy his alpha some expensive flowers as an apology of sorts, but unless he’s been in a relationship with his alpha for several hundred years, I don’t see him directly apologising. He does feel guilty, but he really finds it hard to articulate. The upside is that it’s extremely unlikely that he’ll ever do it again. He’s checking four times every week at least now that he hasn’t missed any important dates by mistake.

“Our anniversary is next week, my beloved, you must have confused the dates.”

Mammon – Mammon metaphorically shits himself when he realises he forgot an anniversary. His scent is pure, unadulterated panic. His first instinct is to plan an anniversary event that moment. Hell’s Kitchen must still be open right? He tries to pull his alpha with him right that second. If that doesn’t work, he starts to panic that he’s ruined the most important thing in his life. This is when the begging starts. He says sorry about a hundred times, will get on his knees, offer whatever you want as long as you forgive him. Mammon is actually a very compassionate person who doesn’t like upsetting his loved ones, so it’s very hard to stay mad at him. Unfortunately, he’s not great at keeping track of dates, so it might happen again. The best thing to do is organise something together and give him a few reminders when that date’s coming up.

“Oh shit! Er, Hell’s Kitchen is still open right?? I’ll buy you whatever you want, we’ll order one of everything, does that work?”

Leviathan – He almost certainly forgets because of some game event or new releases. And to make everything worse, at first he acts like the game and event was more important than the anniversary and he thinks it’s a legitimate excuse that you can’t argue with. He realises pretty quickly after the event finishes that he’s completely alone because you’re mad at him. He turns to tell you everything about the game but you don’t want to listen to him?? He sulks in his room for a while. What pushes him to apologise is when he sees you hanging out with other people instead of him. He growls away the other person, pulling you into his room and sobbing angrily against you, asking why you love other people more than him. He apologises then, desperate to have his best friend and lover back with him. He might do it again, but he learns pretty quickly to just communicate when he wants to partake in a special gaming event and then he never forgets again.

“W-Why don’t you love m-me, like you l-love him?! I’m sorry, p-please don’t leave!”

Satan – He feels guilty, but he handles it well. He is phenomenal at apology dates. He organises the perfect romantic date, taking into consideration his alpha’s likes and integrating them. If you have a favourite romantic novel, you know he’s going to recreate a date scene with you. If you have a favourite restaurant, he’s booked the best table and ordered a bouquet of your favourite flowers for the centrepiece. It’s very hard to stay mad at Satan, especially because it’s very out of character for him to forget a date so important.

“If you want any more drinks, just let me know. I want you to enjoy this evening as much as possible.”

Asmodeus – He also deals with it fairly well, even if he can’t believe that he forgot! He’s honest and upfront about forgetting and expresses regret. He will definitely try to seduce you as an apology though, offering to let you do whatever you want to him. If that doesn’t work, next step is a joint pampering session! He’s pretty good at conveying a genuine apology without making anything too dramatic. I think it’s unlikely that he would do it again, because he loves, loves, loves anniversaries!!! He genuinely can’t believe that he forgot because he normally plans everything months in advance.

“Oh! I can’t believe that I… Oh dear, here come to my room and let me make it up to you…”

Beelzebub – He’s heartbroken that he forgot! He is so upset. He apologises immediately, looking like he’s on the verge of tears, and he asks you to tell him what he needs to do to make it up to you. He doesn’t offer up solutions, he wants his alpha to pick something, so he knows they’ll enjoy it. The only thing he definitely does immediately, is offer whatever food he’s been saving for them to share with him while they discuss. He will likely ask for advice from some of his brothers, probably Belphie (who doesn’t help) and Asmo (who’s slightly more helpful). He may do it again, but he always tries his hardest to make your anniversaries as special as he can.

“Here, you can have my ice cream… I’m really sorry… What can I do?”

Belphegor – He doesn’t think it’s a big deal that he forgot, because you can both just rearrange it, right? I think it’s pretty unlikely that his alpha takes kindly to that opinion. It takes Belphie a little while to realise that a) he’s in the wrong and b) he needs to apologise. He’s not good at planning, but when he genuinely puts his mind to it, he’s actually pretty good at giving gifts. He buys something you’ve been wanting for a while, he might even put a sticky bow on top if you’re upset enough. He gives you the gift while mumbling apologies. The second you forgive him, he drags you to take a nap with him because he hasn’t been sleeping well since you’ve been mad at him. He’s pretty likely to do it again at least a few times, but he learns not to be such a dick about it eventually.

“Oh, I guess I must have forgot… We can just go tomorrow; I want to take a nap.”

Diavolo – He is gutted that he forgot. He organises the most extravagant apology dinner possible (which is pretty extravagant, because he’s a king, very dramatic, and very in love all at once). He gives a dramatic speech about how there’s no excuse, how he never wants you to think he doesn’t value your relationship etc. At this point, I imagine most people would be begging him to chill out and promising that they already forgave him. Either way, I don’t think it would ever happen again, especially because he tells all of his staff to remember your anniversary and always remind him the week before. He isn’t going to let this happen again.

“My love, I will never forgive myself for hurting you in this way. I will never stop trying to make it up to you, even if it takes me a millennium.”

Barbatos – This would never happen. He is amazing at keeping organisational data in his brain, especially data that means so much to him. Also, he can see the future, so, even if by some miracle he did forget, he would see your future reaction and know in advance that he forgot. Barbatos isn’t perfect, but he’s not one to forget important dates.

Simeon – Simeon is another one who is heartbroken that he’s treated his most beloved one this way. He feels awful. He does tear up a little bit if the relationship is old enough. Simeon makes a huge effort to create some adorable picnic date, cooking baskets and baskets of food and picking the most beautiful park. He brings flowers and bunting and a little cake that he ices with an apology in an unbelievably cute handwriting style. It’s very, very hard not to forgive him when he’s so apologetic and good at making you smile. He goes out of his way to make sure he never upsets his alpha in this way again. 

“My beloved, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I will seek to make it up to you for as long as you’ll let me.”

Solomon – He doesn’t care that much about anniversaries but he’s not dumb enough (like some other people on this list *cough*) to think that saying that to your face is a good idea. He definitely tries to play it off as though he had something planned all along and that making you think he forgot was part of the plan. He then scrambles to plan things last minute, and he’s quite good at covering up his mistake. If his alpha doesn’t believe him, he makes up for his mistake with expensive and rare gifts. He will find something special for his alpha. A first edition copy of your favourite book or limited edition merchandising of your favourite media, something like that. He knows the excitement will help dull any negative emotions you have towards him. I could definitely see him doing it multiple times, but if his alpha ever expressed genuine hurt long-term about that particular habit, he would readjust his priorities. He’s not a complete asshole after all, he just sometimes has a hard time pulling his head out of said asshole.

“Here, it took me three days to track down someone who had a copy, but I finally found a first edition for you. I hope you will accept this as a token of my apology, my dearest.”

[nerdzzone]

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: Again, just a reminder that all the information I have about covid restrictions in Massachusetts is from google, not first hand experience, so if something seems wrong please just go with it.

Part Three

______

Part Four

If avoiding difficult conversations was an Olympic sport then it's pretty safe to say that I would have earned myself a gold medal by the end of the following week. It wasn't all that hard to do though as the exhaustion from parenting during a pandemic was hitting us both. Especially because the weather for the first couple of weeks of April was abysmal. It was cold, stormy and raining almost every day and we were all getting quite stir crazy from being inside constantly - especially our lively and spirited child.

So, it was a massive relief when the sun finally came out.

It was also a relief that it lined up with Grayson's third birthday.

He was going to have a very different birthday than previous years - as most people would over the next few months - but we wanted him to have fun and he was quickly tiring of all the indoor activities that we could come up with.

We set the living room up the night before after he'd gone to bed, putting up a birthday banner with several clusters of balloons, and there was quite the mountain of presents in the corner as most of our family members had sent their gifts in advance. I had hoped to wake up before him, but when I woke up to excited cheers and Dodger barking from downstairs, I knew I was too late. A quick glance at my phone told me that it was only six thirty, but clearly the excitement had gotten him up earlier than normal.

"Whoa, Dodger, Grayson, shhhh," I heard Chris warn the pair of them, his voice still raspy from sleep. "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

I smiled and quickly climbed out of bed. Chris wouldn't let him open any presents without me, I knew that, but I didn't want to keep him waiting for too long.

When I got downstairs, a very excited Grayson was bouncing on the couch as Chris sat next to him, watching him closely with a smile on his face.

"Happy birthday!" I cheered, catching his attention.

He sprang off the couch and bolted towards me.

"Thanks, Mama," He shouted, throwing his arms around my legs and looking up at me. "I'm three!"

"You are!" I smiled as I knelt down in front of him and pulled him into a hug. "You're such a big boy now."

He let me squeeze him for another moment or two before wiggling free.

"Can I open presents?"

Chris laughed at his clear priorities, shaking his head as I stood up.

"Let's just wait for Uncle Scott," he suggested before glancing up at me. "He's putting the coffee on."

"Very smart," I nodded. "I think we're all going to need plenty of that today."

Grayson proved my point by grabbing at his balloons and waving them frantically, setting Dodger off barking again.

"Dodge!" Chris scolded. "It's just a balloon, buddy. Chill."

The poor overwhelmed dog hung his head and came over to me for some sympathy. I happily obliged, cooing some comforting words and rubbing his back.

"Gray, leave the balloons, okay?" I requested. "I don't think Dodger likes them."

Grayson frowned, but instantly let go of the balloon in his hand.

"Sorry, Dodger."

"It sounds like we have quite the party in here already," Scott commented as he sauntered into the room. "Shall we see what's in some of these boxes?"

"Yes! Yes!" Grayson cheered, running over to the presents. "What first?"

"Whatever you want," I told him, smiling as I went to sit on the couch next to Chris. "Do you need some help?"

"No, I can do it!" He insisted, making a bee line for the biggest box and quickly ripping the paper off.

We watched as he opened gift after gift, an ear to ear grin on his face the whole time. Just as he was at Christmas, he was incredibly grateful for every present from the Paw Patrol Lookout Tower that was almost as tall as he was to the dinosaur books that were more educational than flashy and fun.

But there was one gift at the bottom of the pile that Chris wasn't particularly impressed by. The one that my brother had sent.

Grayson opened it, pulling out a t-shirt first.

"What does it say?" He asked, holding up the shirt towards us.

Chris' jaw dropped as I stifled my giggles and Scott burst out laughing.

"It says 'Team Iron Man'," I read. "Remember how Uncle Rob was in a movie with Daddy where they had a big fight? Iron Man was Uncle Rob's character and I think Uncle Jack wants you to be on that team."

"Oh," Grayson smiled. "Okay!"

"Okay?!" Chris protested. "You don't want to be on my team?"

Grayson shrugged as he pulled something else out of the box from my brother.

"Look!" He shouted, his excitement clear as he held up a very fancy electronic Iron Man helmet. "I love it!"

I wasn't even sure that he knew what it was as he hadn't seen any of the movies yet, but his enthusiasm compared to Chris' displeasure was killing Scott and I.

"Oh, it's such a shame that your brother wasted his money," Chris said, his words dripping with sarcasm as he had a forced look of pity on his face. "Those things are expensive and Grayson is never going to wear it."

"I'll wear it!"

Grayson's insistence was followed by him putting the helmet on his head and another howl of laughter came from Scott as a look of betrayal crossed Chris' face.

"Your brother is a jerk."

His words were quiet so Grayson wouldn't hear and I smiled.

"What can I say?" I shrugged. "We're an Iron Man family..."

Chris shot me a glare, but turned his attention back to Gray.

"Well, if you don't want to be on my team then I guess I'll just have to find someone else to have the last present that I got for you..."

Chris was teasing, but Grayson whipped off the helmet faster than we could blink. He looked around, a puzzled expression on his face when he couldn't see anymore boxes on the floor and I shared his confusion as I wasn't aware of anymore gifts either. But the Evans brothers exchanged a knowing glance and I knew they were up to something.

"Maybe Miles would like it," Scott suggested. "He loves Captain America."

"Me too!" Grayson insisted, tossing the helmet aside as if it hadn't been his new prized possession moments ago. "He's my favourite!"

"Oh, is he now?" Chris laughed. "Doesn't take much to make you change your mind, does it?"

Grayson shook his head, oblivious to the fact that he was being teased, but Chris didn't torture him for too long.

"Alright, do you want to see what it is?"

"Yes, I do!"

Grayson leapt up, bouncing up and down with excitement, making Chris laugh as he stood up from the couch.

"C'mon then," he told Grayson, nodding his head towards the door. "It's this way."

Grayson scurried after his dad and I followed, my own curiosity piqued as well.

"What is it?" I asked Scott, but he just shot me a smirk.

"You'll see in a second."

I narrowed my eyes at his secrets and paused at the front door where Chris was waiting for us, his hand on the door knob as Grayson practically vibrated with excitement.

"Okay, close your eyes," Chris instructed. "No peeking!"

"I won't, I won't!"

Grayson covered his eyes as an extra assurance and Chris' grin widened even more as he swung open the door. I put my hands on Grayson's shoulders and guided him through it, seeing a shiny blue bike with a big bow on the handlebars. I felt a flash of worry at all the potential ways for Grayson to get hurt riding it, but there was no time to dwell on that as Chris told him to open his eyes and he gasped with excitement.

"A bike!" He squealed with joy, leaping off the doorstep and running towards it.

He circled it for a moment as if he was really trying to take it all in while I looked up at Chris.

"There better be a helmet with this present," I warned him. "I'm already imagining broken bones and missing teeth."

"He'll be fine," Chris assured me with a chuckle. "It has training wheels, but of course I got him a helmet."

I opened my mouth, ready to share some more potential disasters that could come from this - because even with training wheels he could still fall off or lose control and crash into a tree - but Grayson cut me off.

"Help me, Daddy! Help me!"

He was trying to climb onto the seat, but as I took in the sight of him barefoot in his pyjamas standing in the driveway, I stopped Chris as he moved towards him.

"Wait, why don't we have breakfast first?" I suggested. "We have all day to play on your bike, but you're not dressed or even wearing shoes..."

Grayson's face fell and I felt bad being the mean parent, but Chris nodded in agreement.

"Your Ma's right, Gray," he told him. "Let's go get ready and then we can come right back outside, okay?"

Grayson looked sulky, but reluctantly agreed as he walked back over to us.

"Hey now," Scott said, catching his attention. "No pouting on your birthday! We've got some chocolate chip pancakes to make! Unless that sad face means you don't want them anymore?"

His previous smile slid instantly back onto his face at the promise of such a sugary breakfast and the pep returned to his step as he grabbed Scott's hand before dragging him into the house.

-

I had no evidence to prove my theory, but by the time breakfast was over, I was almost certain that it would have been more relaxing to be in the middle of a hurricane. There was pancake batter all over the room and we practically had to pin Grayson to his chair to stop him from sprinting around the room with food in his mouth. It was a miracle that he got through the meal without choking.

It was impossible to be mad though when he was having such a good time. He'd had so much to adjust to lately, seeing him happy on his birthday was all that I wanted and I was willing to put up with a little more chaos than normal if it made that happen. Within reason, of course. I did stop him when he suggested that we put the entire bag of chocolate chips in the pancake batter and I did make him help me clean them up when he dumped them on the floor in protest of my ridiculous restrictions.

Once the breakfast circus was over, Chris whisked him off to get him ready to play outside while I helped Scott clean up the kitchen before going upstairs to shower and get ready myself.

When I came back down almost an hour later, I felt considerably less frazzled, but the sound of excited squeals and giggles echoing from outside told me the energy levels hadn't died down much. It really was a relief that he was having such a nice day though so I braced myself for more chaos and headed out to find them.

The sight that greeted me melted my heart completely.

Chris was running backwards across the driveway as Grayson rode towards him. He shouted encouragement the entire time, reminding him to keep pedaling and to look where he was going and cheering as Grayson rode past him before turning around and circling back.

"Look, Mama!" He shouted to me as he spotted me by the door. "I'm doing it!"

"You are, baby!" I smiled. "Good job!"

I sat on the doorstep and watched him ride in circles, proud of how fast he'd figured it out, but after a few moments, my attention turned to Chris.

There were few times since I'd known him when I'd seen him look as happy as he did in that moment. When Grayson was born, when he took his first steps and when he first said 'Dada' were probably the only comparable moments I could think of. He looked absolutely gleeful as he chased after Grayson, laughing as he passed him before dodging a different way and waiting for Gray to catch up before bolting off again. The sound of their giggles and shouts filled my heart so much that it genuinely felt like it was about to burst out of my chest and a feeling of contentedness hit me so hard that it almost knocked over.

It was a feeling that told me that they were all I ever needed. Those two boys, making each other dizzy as they ran in circles. Their happiness and love was all I could ever hope to have and moments like these were all I ever wanted to see. I wanted us to spend every weekend soaking in this kind of joy. I didn't want to fight and argue and transport Grayson back and forth every other week. I wanted to give Grayson what he deserved, I wanted us to be a family.

But as fast as that clarity hit me, the knots in my stomach were there to remind me that it wasn't just about what I wanted. It wasn't about what would bring us the most moments of delight, it was about what would provide Grayson with the most stability and being a family might do more harm to that goal than good.

It was a constant battle between my heart and my head, but I was starting to realize that my head was losing. I was clinging to my resistance with all I had, but it was slipping away. I knew I needed to talk to Chris, to sort out the fog in my brain, but for the time being, I pushed it out of my mind. This was Grayson's day and we didn't have time for anymore heart-wrenching conversations.

I was snapped out of my thoughts as Scott appeared from the side of the house on roller blades and the unexpected sight pulled a laugh from my lips as he sailed past Chris and Grayson and headed down the driveway.

"Gray, follow me!"

Gray nodded, frantically pedaling to catch up with his uncle as they sped off down the long drive. Chris watched them for a minute before jogging over to me.

"He got it so fast," he puffed as he fought to catch his breath. "He's a natural."

"The training wheels help," I pointed out, shielding my eyes from the sun as I looked up at him. "But it's fine because he'll be keeping those on until he's at least eighteen."

Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

"No way," he smirked. "We'll have them off by next week."

"Not a chance. I need at least six months to get used to that idea."

"How about we meet in the middle and aim for three?"

"Hmm, maybe," I bit back a smile. "We'll have to see how many injuries he gets with the training wheels on first."

"He'll be fine. He's a champ," Chris grinned proudly. "We've got a pretty great kid."

"We do," I patted the step next to me as I made room for Chris to sit down. "I can't believe he's already three."

Chris accepted my silent invitation and sat down next to me.

"I know," he sighed. "It feels like just yesterday that he was born..."

"He was so tiny," I reminisced. "And you had those huge Captain America muscles."

Chris laughed as he nodded at the memory.

"I was so scared to hold him in case I accidentally crushed him."

"I was so scared of everything," I admitted. "It wasn't until he was actually born that it really hit me that we were completely responsible for his well-being and keeping him alive."

"We've done well with that though!"

"We have," I agreed with a smile. "He's alive and thriving."

"We make a good team."

He flashed me a warm smile that made my heart beat stutter and it almost stopped completely when he stretched out a hand and placed it on mine. His touch was gentle and the warmth of his skin flooded through me even more than the sun streaming down on us. It was a simple gesture, but it eased the heaviness that had been hovering between us lately and I was grateful. I carefully flipped my hand over so our palms pressed together and let our fingers interlace. His smile widened as he looked back out at the driveway, his eyes settling on Grayson in the distance who was laughing at something Scott said.

"Thank you," Chris sighed, his voice quiet and filled with genuine appreciation. "I don't think I've ever said it, but thank you for making me a dad."

His words almost brought tears to my eyes, but I shook my head.

"Chris, you don't need to than-"

"I do," he insisted, cutting me off. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me and he wouldn't be here without you."

"I could say the same," I pointed out, trying to ignore the way his thumb was stroking the back of my hand. "He gets most of his good traits from you too. His kind heart, his sensitive little soul, his loyalty."

"His infuriating stubbornness."

"He gets that from both of us," I smiled. "He didn't stand a chance with that one."

"Well, I hope he gets some of your selflessness," Chris informed me, glancing over and looking a tad sheepish. "Because, as much as I disagree with it and I wish you'd be a little selfish, I get that you're trying to look out for him."

I felt my palms start to sweat and I wondered if he could feel it. I resisted the urge to snatch my hand away from his, trying to play it cooler than I felt. He was watching me closely as I mulled over his words until I found the strength to speak.

"I'm not so sure that it's just him that I'm trying to look out for," I admitted, exhaling a breath that I didn't realize I was holding.  "I do think we have more to talk about, Chris, but I don't think this is the right time."

"You're right," he nodded. "I just felt like I owed you an apology after the other night. I let my feelings get the best of me and I came across a little harsh."

I was about to reassure him that he hadn't when the sound of honking interrupted our conversation. Our attention was pulled to the end of the driveway where two cars - belonging to Chris' mom and his sister - were pulling in as Scott moved Grayson and Dodger off to the side to let them past.

"Did you know they were coming?" I asked, surprised by the little motorcade.

"Nah, I had no idea," Chris shrugged. "We'll stay outside though, keep our distance."

I wasn't worried about that really, I knew all of Chris' family were staying very isolated and being smart about staying safe and we were technically allowed to have outdoor gatherings of up to ten people anyway with the current rules in place. I was surprised to see them though as we'd warned Grayson that he would only get to see most of his family over FaceTime. His excitement at that being untrue was clear as he frantically pedaled back up the driveway to greet his guests.

"Mama! Daddy! Look!"

I let Chris' hand fall away from mine as we stood, smiling at Grayson's excitement as everyone started getting out of their cars. They burst into a rousing chorus of 'Happy Birthday' making Gray's grin grow even more.

"Happy birthday, Grayson!" Lisa beamed as Grayson ran towards her full speed. He threw his arms around her legs before we could even remind him to keep his distance, but Lisa seemed unbothered by it. "Have you had a good day so far?"

"Yes!" Gray smiled up at her. "I got a bike!"

"I saw that!" Lisa matched his enthusiasm. "You're a lucky boy!"

Grayson shot her another smile before turning his attention to his cousins.

"Wanna try?"

His older cousins were probably too big, but Stella's hand shot up first and beat them to it anyway.

"That's really nice of you to share," I called over to Grayson. "But share your helmet too, okay?"

He nodded and struggled with the clip for a few minutes before Lisa helped him take it off and placed it on her granddaughter's head.

Once they were all happy, chasing Stella and Dodger around the drive way, the adults moved over towards us. Lisa was the first to speak, a guilty look on her face.

"I hope you don't mind us just showing up like this, but we couldn't stay away on his birthday..."

"It's great!" Chris assured her. "Don't worry about it."

"And Grayson seems thrilled," I added. "It's nice for him to have other kids to run around with for a bit."

We all turned to watch them as they played until Carly let out a laugh.

"Are Grayson's shoes on the wrong feet?"

I hadn't even noticed, but I laughed as well when I realized that she was right.

"Some days just getting him in shoes at all is a victory," Chris defended himself. "And today was one of those days."

"He's like the energizer bunny this morning," Scott joked. "I can't imagine what he'll be like after we get some cake into him."

"Just think how well he'll sleep tonight," Carly pointed out. "He has to crash eventually."

"I hope so," Chris smiled. "He had me up at six o'clock this morning, I need an early night."

That earned a laugh from the group as his siblings teased him about being such an old man, but I felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing that he'd been up early with Grayson a lot lately. Maybe it was because we were at his house so it was what Gray was used to, but Chris was definitely the favourite for the early morning wake up call.

We stood in our little circle for a while, just catching up as we watched the kids, all of us enjoying conversation with someone other than the people we were locked up with twenty-four hours a day. It was nice for me to have some female company as well even though Lisa was very pleased to hear that her boys were pulling their weight around the house and not just treating me like some kind of live-in maid.

It didn't take long for the kids to get tired of sharing the bike, especially the older boys who were too big for it anyway, and soon they were swarming around us demanding that we all play a game. After being cooped up for so long, it didn't seem like a bad idea to get us all moving around a little so we agreed and set about the daunting task of finding something everyone was willing to play.

Eventually, we settled on capture the flag - girls against boys. Lisa decided she'd make a better referee than a player so the boys team had one extra member, but they had three children to our one so it hardly seemed like the extra person would cause any unbalance. 

The rules of the game were simple: each team had three flags in our 'end zone' at opposite ends of the large grassy part of Chris' yard and the other team had to try to steal those flags. We had to grab it and run it all the way back to our own end zone to score a point, but once it was safely 'captured' it couldn't be stolen back. If someone managed to snatch a flag, but was tagged on their way back to their end zone then they had to give the flag back.

Lisa was very firm in reminding her children that tackling was not allowed as the Evans siblings were fiercely competitive and it had apparently led to trouble over the years. Once the rules were all set, we took our places and started the game.

The teams were fairly evenly matched. The boys had more strength, but we had more agility and were much better at communicating and working together which led to us easily scoring the first point. While Stella distracted Scott, Carly snuck past him to snatch the flag and she tossed it to Shanna who faked a pass to Stella before throwing it to me to get it to the safe zone. It was a beautifully executed play that showed the boys we weren't messing around.

"Oh, it's on now," Chris called out as he sprinted past me.

Shanna bolted after him, but he managed to grab the flag and throw it to Ethan before she caught up. With all the other boys guarding him, he made it all the way back to their end zone without getting tagged.

"I think having a super soldier on your team is an unfair advantage ," Carly huffed, but Chris shook his head with a smirk.

"Nah, because we have Scott too so it balances out."

"Hey!" Scott protested. "I'll switch teams if you're going to be rude!"

Stella jumped for joy at that idea, pleading with him to come onto our side, but the rest of the boys voiced their protests and he decided that, as long as there was no more hurtful comments, he would stick to his team for now. I used their bickering as a distraction though as I snuck closer towards their unguarded flags. I managed to grab one before Scott noticed and called out a warning to the rest of his team, but when I took off running and Grayson charged towards me, I didn't have the heart to out run him on his special day. I slowed down enough that he wouldn't realize I was letting him win and groaned dramatically as he tagged me, making me give up the flag.

"I did it!" He cheered. "Daddy! Did you see? I did it!"

Stella had a disappointed scowl on her face, but everyone else was understanding as they watched Chris scoop him up onto his shoulders, chanting his name as if he'd just won the World Cup while he carried him back to replace the flag.

Their celebration was short-lived though as we managed to steal the flag again almost as soon as Chris and Grayson were far enough away from it. After another perfectly executed play, the score was sitting at 2-1 for us. The pressure was on after that as we only needed one more point to win, it ramped up the competitive spirit.

We were off to a great start in the next round. Shanna got the flag quickly, but Scott had her cornered almost immediately so she tossed it to me. I got about ten steps before Chris was on my heels and I was forced to throw it over to Carly. Chris turned and went to chase after her instead and without even thinking, I leapt on his back to stop him.

"Hey!" He protested, slowing to a stop despite how he was clearly unaffected by my weight. "Is anyone seeing this? This has got to be a foul! She tackled me!"

"I did not tackle you!" I insisted, clinging to his shoulders with my legs wrapped around his waist. "If it was a tackle, you'd be on the ground."

Chris wiggled around, trying to throw me off his back as Carly sauntered into our end zone with the flag.

"The only reason I'm not on the ground is because you're too weak," Chris argued before shouting to his mom. "That doesn't count!

"No, Mama," Grayson joined in, running over to us looking very disapproving. "No cheating!"

I laughed, but slid down from Chris' back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" I held my hands up as I apologized. "I can't outrun Captain America, I had no choice!"

"Well, now you lost the point," Chris teased me, shoving me playfully and making me stumble a step away from him. "So, lets keep it fair and stop trying to cheat."

I swatted back at him as I stuck out my tongue while Lisa made the official call that the point didn't count and Scott took the recently captured flag back to the boy's end zone.

Chris had a new twinkle in his eye as the next round started. He hadn't let me get very far away from him and I quickly realized that I'd made a mistake by antagonizing him. I would be useless to my team if he was on my tail the whole time, but he was a tank and incredibly fast so getting away from him was next to impossible. I watched helplessly as Scott and Miles easily took our flag and dashed it back to their end zone to tie the score.

"Chris!" I whined as I tried to get around him like I was a cornered puppy, trying not to get caught. "Get away from me, you big oaf!"

"Oh, wow," Chris chuckled. "Let's not start calling names and being mean."

I tried to dart past him again, but groaned as he blocked my path.

"You're infuriating!"

"It's all part of the game."

The smirk on Chris' face had my competitive side firing up as I could see behind him that Miles had snatched our last flag. Stella was hot on his heels though, so he had no choice, but to pass to Grayson who was coming our way. Was I going to stop my three year old son from scoring the game winning point on his birthday? Probably not. But I had to at least make my attempt genuine so I came up with a plan.

"Is that..." I squinted off into the distance on the other side of the yard. "Is that Dodger chasing a cat?"

My Oscar worthy performance had Chris spinning around to check out what I saw and it gave me enough time to bolt away towards Grayson who wasn't far away from winning the game for his team. I made it an impressive five steps before Chris figured out what I'd done and came after me. Grayson saw what was happening and dodged to the left so I followed, but my change of direction gave Chris an opportunity. The next thing I knew, I felt a crash against my hips before I was lifted from the ground and found myself dangling over Chris' shoulder.

I let out a squeal of surprise as I kicked my legs, trying to get down, but Chris had a tight grip on me and there was no getting away. The ease with which he threw me around wasn't at all distracting and there wasn't a single part of me that was revelling in his strength. Not at all.

"This is absolutely a tackle!" I protested, focusing my mind back onto my predicament. "Put me down!"

"If this was a tackle, you'd be on the ground," he mocked me. "This is payback."

I had a nice view, my head only inches above 'America's ass' so, swept up in the moment of playfulness between us, I reached down and gave it a smack. He yelped and jumped, shaking me as he did.

"Chris! Put me down!"

My demands were weakened by the giggles that I couldn't hold back, but thankfully Scott stepped in to help me regain some dignity.

"Alright, you two," he called over. "Can we get back to the game now or would you like us all to give you some time alone?"

A blush covered my cheeks as I remembered that his entire family was around us and was relieved when he lowered me to the ground.

"Games over," Chris called back. "Grayson scored!"

Grayson jumped up and down happily, but Stella had a scowl on her face.

"Nuh uh! When Whitney tackled you, it didn't count!" She pointed out. "Grayson's point doesn't count too!"

The joy on Grayson's face fell into a look of anger as he stomped his foot at his cousin’s claim.

"It does!" He insisted. "I did it!"

"Now look what you've done," I playfully scolded Chris quietly before shouting to the rest of the group. "I think we're going to have to let them have the point, ladies. I wouldn't have been able to catch up to Grayson even if Chris didn't cheat..."

Stella's jaw dropped in clear shock that I hadn't supported her protests, but to stop the war before it could start, Chris chimed in.

"Grayson didn't need my help to score that point, I shouldn't have interfered," he started. "But why don't we call it a game and go have some cake?!"

The promise of sugar seemed to quash any animosity between the teams as all the kids let out a shriek of approval at that suggestion and took off running back to the house.

"Oh, yes," Carly sighed. "Because what my children clearly need right now is more energy..."

"It's Gray's birthday," Chris shrugged with a smile as we all followed the children at a much more reasonable pace. "We have to have cake!"

"And if it wasn't his birthday then I wouldn't have let you win."

My taunting earned a bark of laughter from Chris.

"Let us win? Yeah, sure, okay. You just keep telling yourself that you're faster and stronger than me," he teased. "Whatever makes you feel better."

I shoved him, but he was braced for it and I ended up more affected by the impact than him which proved his point, putting a smirk on his face.

"Asshole," I muttered as I shook my head, but I couldn't hold back a smile at how nice our affectionate teasing felt.

-

By the end of the day, we were all exhausted. It had been a fun and very special day for Grayson so we were thrilled for him, but exhausted nonetheless. Gray fought his bedtime with all the will power he had, eager for the day to go on just a little bit longer, but we won out in the end and he made it to bed on time. Scott had gone to his own room while we were fighting with him and Chris and I parted ways shortly after to get some much needed quiet time of our own.

I found myself distracted though, when I was finally alone, as the importance of the day had me feeling sentimental. Watching Grayson grow up and hit these milestones was a joy, but it left me feeling a bit reminiscent of the years gone by. Years when he was even smaller than he was now, just starting to figure out the world and how to speak, walk and be a part of it. The time was really flying by and as I began to scroll through old videos of his first year of life, the nostalgia was almost too much to bear.

Eventually, I stumbled on a video that had distinct parallels of today.

It was a video of Grayson's first birthday when we'd given him his own little cake and let him go to town on it. Of course, as many babies do, he'd stared at it for a moment before smashing his face directly into it. It was adorable and tugged on my heart strings considering how comparatively neat his cake consumption was earlier that day. He'd grown so much in such a short time and I felt compelled to share my discovery with Chris so I dragged myself out of bed and crept down to his room.

There was a fluttering of nerves in my stomach as I knocked on his bedroom door, the feeling only growing as he called out an invitation to come inside. I did as he'd asked and let myself in, finding him leaning back against the headboard of his bed - wearing nothing but his pajama pants - with his own phone in his hand.

"Hey," he smiled. "What's up?"

"I found a video," I told him, standing awkwardly near the foot of his bed. "I was feeling a little sad about how fast Gray is growing up so I was looking back, watching old videos and I found one that I thought you might like to see."

Chris’ smile widened and he eagerly patted the bed next to him, encouraging me to sit. I took him up on his offer and settled in as I unlocked my phone and started the video.

"He was so little..."

Chris' observation came as the camera settled on Gray where he sat in his high chair. Chris was right next to him, a grin on his face as he chatted happily to our son despite the nonsense babble that he got in response. I appeared on the screen after a few moments, carrying a tiny cake as everyone started to sing Happy Birthday. Grayson had a look of confusion on his face as he looked around at the crowd, but his eyes widened when the cake was placed in front of him.

"Go on, Gray," I prompted once the singing had stopped. "You can taste it."

He needed no more encouragement and simply face planted right into it, popping up a moment later with blue icing from the tops of his eyebrows to the bottom of his chin. He had a huge, cheeky grin on his face as he looked at us and, just as he did in the video, Chris laughed next to me.

"Oh, man, it kills you, doesn't it?" He questioned before clarifying. "How cute he is."

I hadn't realized that Chris' arm had found its way behind me when he leaned in to watch until I felt his breath on my hair as he spoke and I couldn't resist leaning back, tucking myself under his shoulder. The whole day, the knowledge that my baby was growing up, had me needing some comfort. It was exciting, to see him learn and shift from a baby to a little person, but at the same time, I felt the overwhelming urge for time to stop.

"It does," I agreed, letting my phone fall to the bed beside me. "I can't believe how much he's changed since then."

"In some ways," Chris agreed, looking down at me with a smirk. "In others, he's still that goofy, reckless baby."

"If he's anything like you, he'll probably never grow out of being goofy and reckless."

I felt Chris' shoulders shake as he chuckled at my teasing and I was reminded of the last time we'd been cuddled up, in a similar position to this, in his bed. I felt a flood of warmth run through my body at the memory as I was suddenly aware of how close we were, aware of how good he smelt and how strong his hard muscled arm felt as I leaned against it.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I meant it as one," I assured him. "I like that you're goofy. Your recklessness used to give me anxiety sometimes, when you'd always insist that you just had to do your own stunts on Captain America as if you really thought you were a super soldier, but I like that you're willing to take risks."

"Awe, gee, Whitney," he teased, squeezing me closer against him. "It was nice of you to worry about me."

"Of course I worried," I rolled my eyes. "Your muscles are bigger than your brain sometimes."

"Not anymore..." Chris held up the arm that wasn't currently around me and flexed his muscles, showing off a bicep that was still much larger than most even if it wasn't quite up to the Avengers standard. "I'm out of shape."

Against my own best interest, I turned slightly, letting my hand drift up towards his arm as my head fell against his chest. I traced over the bulging muscle and watched as tiny goosebumps rose up on his skin at the sensation. Skin that felt so soft under my touch and I felt his breath shift as he clearly felt the mood between us change the same way that I did. I felt emboldened by how amorous our emotional day had left me as I let my head tip back to find him looking down at me with the same intensity he had a few months ago.

My breath caught in my throat and I couldn't help myself. Despite every alarm bell going off inside my brain, I stretched up just enough to press my lips against his. For a moment, he relaxed. His shoulders dropped as my fingers curled around the arm they were just stroking, but then suddenly his entire body tensed as if he'd been shocked by a bolt of electricity. He jerked away, sliding out from under me and off the bed before I could even realize what was happening.

"No," he said firmly, pointing his finger at me the same way he did to Dodger when he was being naughty. "No, no, we're not doing this again. Not until we talk about it what's going on here."

I felt the sting of rejection so harshly that it almost brought tears to my eyes, but I knew he was right.

"I'm sorry," I squeaked out, my cheeks burning. "You're right. I shouldn't have done that."

My voice was shaking as I scrambled to stand up, the stunned look on Chris' face only adding to my embarrassment. We stood there, staring at each other with the bed between us, but he didn't speak and after a few moments of silence, my shame was overwhelming, kicking my flight instincts into gear.

"I'll go," I mumbled. "Sorry again."

I didn't wait for a response before darting towards the door, but Chris' voice stopped me before I could make my escape.

"Whitney, stop." He didn't shout, but his tone was firm and demanding enough that I froze on the spot. "We need to talk about this. We can't keep going on with it hanging above our heads."

I turned to face him, discovering that he'd moved closer and was standing by the foot of the bed. He was still a few feet away from me, but close enough that it felt almost suffocating and I bit my lip as I stared at his feet, unable to look him in the eye.

"I don't know what to say..."

"I can take it," he insisted, a hint of resignation in voice as he continued. "You've had plenty of time to think it over since our last conversation and you said earlier today that we needed to talk. If you're gonna turn me down, put whatever this is to bed, just do it now and get it over with."

I furrowed my brow in confusion at his words, my heart beating in my chest so fast that I could hear the blood pumping through my ears.

"Turn you down?" I questioned. "Why do you think I'm going to turn you down? I just kissed you."

"That didn't mean much at Christmas."

He had a very valid point and I felt another pang of guilt at how badly I was treating him. I was hot and cold, affectionate and withdrawn, unwavering in my decision one minute and unsteady the next. I hadn't spared much thought to how cruel that was and now that I'd realized, I couldn't hold back the frustrated groan that fell from my lips.

"I don't know what to do, Chris! I think I know what the right decision is. It's what always felt like the safer choice, but then there are times when that's just..." I paused, taking in a deep breath to work up a dash of courage. "It's not what I want."

Chris watched me closely as if choosing his next words very carefully.

"If the safer choice isn't what you want then it sounds like maybe you need to take a risk. You can't live your life making decisions out of fear."

My eyes narrowed. He was over simplifying the situation. That way of thinking might work if it was just the two of us, but with Gray in the middle, things were more complicated.

"It's not that straight forward."

I shook my head as I spoke, but Chris countered with a nod.

"Sure, it is," he shrugged before asking a question that almost stopped my heart. "Do you love me?"

I stared at him, opening my mouth to speak and then closing it again when the words didn't come. I stood there, gaping at him like some kind of ridiculous puffer fish, until I finally got a word out.

"What?"

A smirk slid onto Chris' face at my floundering as he repeated the question.

"Do you love me?" He asked. "And don't say it doesn't matter or it's not important. Just yes or no."

I stared at him for a moment longer as a war between my head and heart raged inside me. Deny, deny, deny was what my head was screaming, but in the end the quiet reminder of now or never from my heart was what won out.

"Yes, I do," I admitted, proud of my voice for not breaking. "I always have."

There was a grin on Chris' face now, but my stomach churned because it didn't mean anything. As I said, I'd loved him all along and yet here we were, no better off.

"That's all that matters then," he insisted. "We can figure out the rest."

"But what if we can't figure it out?" I protested, crossing my arms as if I could somehow fold into myself and disappear completely. "What if it's nice for a while and then it all comes crashing down around us? What about Gray?"

He shrugged again. His whole demeanour miles away from my own. He seemed confident, hopeful, almost excited while I felt nauseous, terrified and paralyzed by fear.

"But what if it doesn't? What if it all works out nicely? Why are you so convinced that we wouldn't last?"

"Because you're you," I reminded him, my tone flat as I stated the obvious. "Hollywood super star, Chris Evans. And I'm me, a boring nobody. You could have pretty much any famous actress you want, the only person who wants to be with me is the creepy maintenance worker in our apartment building."

Chris looked taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What? I've never heard about this guy."

"He's just some weird guy who does the repairs," I shrugged. "He comments on my outfits and looks at me in this way that makes my skin crawl, but he's harmless."

"Doesn't sound harmless to me," Chris argued, crossing his arms as a thunderous look settled on his face. "Does he have access to your place?"

"No!" I assured him, but after my quick answer I realized that I wasn't so sure. "Well, I don't know. He might have a spare key, I guess. If most maintenance people do? They have to give me notice before they enter the apartment anyway."

"Unless he's sneaking in to perv on you."

"Chris! That's gross!" I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "Why would you put that thought in my head?!"

"I told you that you should have let me buy you a house," Chris huffed. "You're moving when all this covid shit is over."

"Oh my god," I groaned having flashbacks to our conversation a few weeks ago about him buying me a car. "All of this is so beside the point! We're talking about how you'd get bored of me and leave me heartbroken for some flashy Hollywood babe, remember?"

"Right," Chris nodded, letting his arms fall to his side. "But that's such a ridiculous idea that I thought it was hardly worth acknowledging."

His dismissal of one of my biggest fears sent a flash of anger through me.

"How is it ridiculous?" I snapped. "It's true!"

"You know me, Whitney," Chris sighed. "You know that my team had to practically force me into doing Captain America because I had one foot out the door of the whole acting gig and I hated the way Hollywood made me feel. Do you really think that I would give up a chance at a having family with you, someone who I really care about, for some wild, short-lived fling?"

His tone conveyed his disbelief, but he hadn't quite accurately interpreted what I meant.

"I think you'd regret it," I clarified. "I think that once the initial excitement wore off, you'd see that I'm nothing special and that I don't fit in your world."

Chris was looking at me as if I'd grown an extra head and I crossed my arms a little tighter around myself.

"We were friends long before Grayson came around and I've always thought that you were something special. Where is all this insecurity coming from, Whitney? Because I just don't get it."

I swallowed hard as I bit my lip. I felt incredibly vulnerable and the urge to run away and continue ignoring all my feelings seemed much preferable to standing here and analyzing them all, but I stayed strong. We were both adults and this was the only way to move forward. Whether it ended how Chris wanted or not, he deserved to know how I felt.

"I spent a long time convincing myself that you didn't care about me as anything more than a friend. I told myself that it was an insane idea because we're in two very different leagues so there was no point getting my hopes up. Then that night happened and I thought that maybe I'd been wrong, that it could be the start of a really good thing, but then you were gone by the time I woke up and you never called."

I barely choked out the last few words as I fought back the tears that were swimming in my eyes. An unmistakable look of guilt flashed onto Chris' face and he opened his mouth to comment, perhaps to defend himself, but I held up a hand to stop him. I needed to get it out or I never would.

"Then three weeks later, I found out I was pregnant," I continued. "I assumed from your silence that you didn't want to be with me and I knew that we were good together as friends so I kept my feelings to myself and spent the last three and a half years beating myself up for thinking for even one second that you would want to be with me."

"I did want to be with you..."

Chris was looking at me with those puppy dog eyes that he'd mastered and I sniffled as a tear slipped down my cheek.

"I know that now, but I can't just turn those thoughts off."

Chris sighed and rubbed his hands over his face before holding out his arms.

"C'mere."

I shook my head, wiping my tears as I worried that I'd fall apart completely if I stepped into his arms, but when he persisted and gestured me over again, I couldn't resist. I took the few steps needed to close the space between us and let my arms slide around his waist. He hugged me close to his body, burying his face in my hair as pressed mine into his muscled chest. We stayed like that for a few moments until Chris broke the silence.

"I'm sorry. I was an idiot," he apologized, his words muffled by my hair. "I should have fought for you. At the very least, I should have stayed until you woke up and I should have called, but I was scared too."

I felt more tears fill my eyes as I choked out a soft "I know".

Another silence fell between us before Chris spoke again, his words making my heart almost stop completely.

"I was going to propose." I pulled back at that confession, my eyes wide as I looked up at him unable to process his words fast enough to speak before he continued. "I called my mom up as soon as you told me you were pregnant. I wanted her to help me pick out a ring, but she talked me out of it. Said you'd think I was doing it for all the wrong reasons."

My heart fluttered back to life at the sincerity in his admission, but I nodded my head.

"Your mom is a smart lady," I told him. "I absolutely would have thought you were only doing it because you felt you had to."

"It wasn't out of obligation though," he insisted. "Maybe I was getting a bit ahead of myself leaping straight to marriage, but I cared about you. It was an opportunity to make it official, make that commitment and be a family. That's what I wanted."

I stayed quiet, resting my head back against his chest as I tried to take in all this new information. It was a lot to process especially when it directly contradicted the belief I had clung to for so long - that Chris and I would never work and for Grayson's sake we were better off apart. That assumption was so deeply embedded in my brain that it was hard to find the courage to take such a risk.

As if Chris could sense my lingering indecision, he continued.

"It's still what I want," he said softly. "Being here these last few weeks with you and Grayson as a family has been a dream come true. I wouldn't give it up for anything or do anything to jeopardize it if you'd just give me a shot."

The word 'okay' was so close to the tip of my tongue that it shocked me.

That was all I had to do, just open my mouth and agree and he would be mine.

My heart was pleading with me to do it, to take that leap and ignore any of the arguments against it that were running through my mind - especially now that those arguments seemed much less sound than they had a few short weeks ago. I was so conflicted that it almost physically pained me to have to make a decision and I couldn't help, but wonder how he could be so certain.

So, I leaned back and tilted my head so my eyes could meet his.

"How can you be so sure?" I questioned. "After how things have been these last few years, how can you be so confident in your feelings?"

"Because I love you," he told me plainly and with unwavering surety. "If you tell me right now that it's not what you want, then I'll accept your decision. But if there's a hint of a chance, then I'll wait as long as I need to. I've been waiting for years, thinking that I didn't even have a shot, I think I can wait a little longer now that I know that I might."

It was another heart wrenchingly honest explanation, another vulnerable admission, and something in the openness with which he spoke made me realize that over the last three years he had done nothing to earn any distrust from me. Even after the fallout from Christmas, he'd put his hurt feelings and pride aside to make things easier for me. He'd been sincere during every discussion we'd had since then and hadn't been cruel or impatient about my indecision. I had no reason at all, other than my own fear and insecurities, to assume that he was going to break my heart and tear apart our family.

He deserved a little bit of trust from me as well and a clarity washed over me as I finally knew what I had to do.

There were words I could have said, probably should have said, but I didn't feel like there was anything that would accurately portray how I was feeling. I settled for a more direct approach as I pressed up onto my toes and let my lips fall against his.

He tensed at first and for a brief, heart stopping moment, I thought he might push me away again, but he didn't. He relaxed, pulling me closer as my hands slid to cup his neck.

It was a soft kiss. A gentle, loving kiss, that I hoped conveyed what I couldn't figure out how to say. But when our lips parted and he leaned down to rest his forehead on mine, there was a concern in his eyes that told me I wasn't going to get away with it that easily.

"What does that mean?"

I bit my lip, staring up past his long eyelashes into his eyes. There was still a tiny voice in my head telling me to run, to stop being so foolish and leave now before I made a mistake, but my heart had found its footing now and wasn't going to back down. Listening to my head all this time hadn't made things any easier, so it was time to try something else.

"It means," I started, taking in a shaky breath. "I don't want to keep you waiting anymore."

Chris let out a breath of relief as a tentative smile slid onto his face.

"Really? You're sure?"

I swallowed hard and nodded my head.

"Yes," I breathed out, my voice thick with all the emotions swirling through me.

He dipped his head a touch lower until our lips were reconnected. It was a deeper kiss, more desperate than the first as his tongue slid against mine and his grip tightened on my waist, my nails scraping against the fuzz of his recently cut hair. I caved into him, clinging to him like he was a lifeboat in a storm until he pulled back to take a breath.

My chest heaved against his, the adrenaline of his touch and what this finally meant, almost too much to handle. I settled back down, flat on my feet and nuzzled my face back into his chest as I fought to calm my racing mind and just enjoy the moment.

"You really mean it?" Chris asked again, the shakiness of his voice filling me with another pang of guilt. "You really want to give this a try?"

"I mean it," I nodded against him. "Doesn't mean my concerns have all vanished in the last five minutes, but I...I think I need to trust you."

"I won't let you down," he murmured into my hair as he pulled me even closer. Another silence fell between us until I broke it with an embarrassingly large yawn and Chris' chest shook as he chuckled. "Do you wanna sleep down here tonight?"

As soon as he'd asked the question, it suddenly hit me how exhausted I was. Even just the thought of walking upstairs seemed like an impossible task when there was such an inviting, comfortable bed only steps away from where I stood. But a thought popped into my head that I couldn't ignore and I turned my head slightly so I wasn't speaking directly into Chris' muscles.

"What about Gray?" I asked. "He always comes to you in the morning..."

"Would it matter?"

His tone wasn't accusing or annoyed, but genuinely curious as sharing a child did add a strange new element to all this. I didn't really know what the best way to handle it was since Grayson didn't really understand our relationship or know how a typical family was set up anyway, but it didn't seem like the best way to introduce him to the idea.

"I think we should talk to him about it instead of just letting him stumble on us in bed together," I suggested. "But I think maybe we should wait a while?"

Chris' face fell as the look of worry returned.

"You want to keep this a secret?"

"I didn't mean it like that," I shook my head. "You can tell whoever you want, but I think we should figure things out, make sure things are stable between us before we try to explain it to Gray."

"Alright, that's fair," Chris agreed before leaning down to place another soft kiss on my lips. "I'll wake you up before he comes down."

"Okay," I nodded as I let my thumb stroke his cheek.

We reluctantly slipped out of each other's arms, but it was a brief separation as we climbed into opposite sides of the bed. Once we'd turned the lights off, we met in the middle and he pulled me back against his chest, letting me hook my leg over his hip as we settled against each other.

Chris ran a hand up and down my spine as he nuzzled in my hair.

"This feels nice..."

"It does," I hummed. With the darkness around us, the quiet that had settled in, I felt encouraged to say something that I'd felt I should have said long ago. "I'm sorry, Chris."

I felt him tense.

"For what?"

"For messing you around so much," I admitted. "Especially at Christmas...that wasn't cool."

"If I had expectations, I should have laid them out before anything happened." His answer sounded rehearsed, as if he'd spent a long time convincing himself of that fact. I wasn't entirely sure it was a fair statement, but he continued before I could question it. "I can understand where you were coming from, but I promise I won't hurt you."

I felt a pang of uncertainty because that wasn't always a promise that could be kept, but the sincerity in his voice gave me hope. I placed a soft kiss against his chest as his hands slid up under the loose shorts I was wearing to cup my bum.

"I love you," I mumbled against his skin.

"I love you too," he replied, making a feeling of warmth flood through me. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

I sighed happily as my exhaustion had my eyes fluttering shut. I wanted to stay awake, to keep this moment before the brightness of the morning could bring any doubts or second guesses, but I was powerless to resist as sleep overtook me.

-

Part Five

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10

[jiminrings]

hey hannah! hope you are doing great darling ( ˘ ³˘) ♡ i may have a request in mind, a university/college au with jock!jk and shy art major!yn or an olympics au? with olympic athlete!jk and olympic athlete!yn (you decide which sports!) thank you so much in advance ♡

never (k)not you

pairing: jungkook x y/n

wordcount: 5k

glimpse: established relationship ft. jock!jk and shy art major!y/n, y/n gets an unexpected pep talk and jungkook doubts himself, and either so much tears or so much dUST according to kook

notes: baby ok FIRST OF ALL, i’m so sorry i only got to write this now :(( it’s been three months since you sent in this request bUT well it’s here now :D thank you so much for requesting and waiting!! i really hope ur still here or else i-i... will lose it

if you squint, best friend!tae is actually rich kid tae both from the art major drabble and insufferable!!

lunch with taehyung either makes the both of you the LOUDEST motherfuckers in the planet or it’s just comfortable silence

comfortable silence’s more common whenever the two of you are in public because to put it simply

he’s cold and you’re shy!! makes sense

but god just mention his girlfriend’s name oNCE and he’ll talk your ear off and you get genuinely excited when he is

he just needs to mention gouache for less than a second and you will genuinely freak

then suddenly the both of you are the chattiest beings ever and absolutely no one will yield until they get the final say

but this

this just feels weird...

because it’s lunch and you’re not talkative and the silence is most definitely not comfortable

you just know tae has something up his sleeve and will probably catch you off-

“are you and jungkook a thing?”

...

......

it’s never actually registered in your head that you and jungkook are a THING but absolutely no one knows

literally no one

not even the dust living underneath your bedframe!! or if guardian angels existed, then they’d probably be clueless as fuck

lol wait what was that cold gust of wind on ur arms

jungkook is the dreamiest man alive and he’s been your boyfriend for what?? two years now??

and the two of you, and more of him actually, insisted to keep it private

your relationship is none of anyone’s business and it uh.,. it literally seems to be that way because sometimes even yOU forget that you’re in a relationship

jungkook avoids you like the plague and you keep to yourself like you do with all your gouache

this dynamic of no one knowing has been so instilled in you that tae’s innocent (?) question is enough to make you spiral little by little

taehyung was just harboring an idea ok

because like two days ago when you went out with him and his girlfriend for ice cream, jungkook was there too by himself

and that just seems like pure coincidence

but then they dOn’t seem like coincidences anymore when he realizes on the same day how many classes he was in where you were in

and you don’t even have the same major!!!

or when he’s walking you home because your apartment is literally on the right side of his girlfriend’s (changbin’s on the left) and he’s taking every possibility he gets

but it just so happens that uh... jungkook’s always there from a distance? like when the two of you are walking and that guy just hAD to be there at the back??

goddamn it tae should’ve gotten his parents’ offer for personal security while he’s studying in campus :((

“woah woah wOAH what’s the matter?” you panic when he shoves you inside your apartment the moment you manage to open it

“this fucking jungkook guy is either stalking you or me and it’s starting to get on my nerves!!”

“... taehyung-“

and then he realized that oh... ok... i see

what if this guy has a crush on you??

but it didn’t make sense because why would this soccer guy (no offense) that’s a jock (no offense) who always either looks high with how giggly he is (no offense) or bereaved with how he scowls (no offense) could POSSIBLY like you???

you who’s the art major (no offense) with your clothes almost exactly like he is (no offense) that he has an inkling that either you were copying him or him copying you (no offense) and the shyness that you absolutely wouldn’t talk to anyone unless they go first and tHAT even became a tough cookie for him!! h i m

wait

on another thought...

that does make sense

you and jungkook are more likely to be a couple than anyone else more alike to either of you, no offense :D

and the way now that you’re frozen and scoffing like ur voicing mater’s engine in cars

“w-what? FUCK no!!”

mhmmm

yeah that’s the spot

taehyung means this in full offense but you’d be absolutely bankrupt if ever you wanted to try your hand at poker when your tell is literally cussing in capital when you’re flustered

this is the equivalent of your mom leaving you by the line to the cashier at the grocery when she needs to get something and you’re next at the line and you have no money on you and you’re too hesitant to tell the person behind you to-

“why? are you thinking of asking him out?”

he hears you seethe and that’s only the second time he’s heard you actually do that so he may have straightened his posture a lil

you wouldn’t hold it against taehyung because jungkook is one fINE specimen and tae doesn’t stare from that description anyway

you just can’t help but feel a lil.....

ಠ_ಠ

because you know that jungkook is yours and when it comes to things like these, you can’t do anything about it

how could you??

fine... if taehyung tries to-

smack!

the fact that your friend has a gigantic palm for one doesn’t soothe the gears in your head

you’re positive that your brain actually shook inside your head for a split second

“i already have someone, dumbass.”

taehyung has to remind you again to which you immediately awe in remembrance, a sheepish smile on your face bc for a moment, you actually considered begging for tae to back the fuck off without making it seem you’re already with jungkook

he waves you off because you’re about to coo at him again, a small smile on his face because he wouldn’t forget how he’s so lucky

it’s nice to be in love!!

you should probably try it some time

but then again, taehyung’s starting to think that you’ve been in a longer relationship with jungkook than him in one, so he thinks that he should be the one taking notes from you

“can i, uhm, ask how did you know?”

you don’t mind swallowing your pride because you already know you can’t bullshit your way out of this one, a timid look on your lap

sheesh

tae’s pride seems to swell up because his suspicion’s right just by oNE singular try

“because i’m rich kid kim :) don’t you know that?”

see now this is only one of the few times that he’d gladly take his title

rich kid kim was coined by the courtesy of changbin, his girlfriend’s friend :/

it just seemed to STICK on everyone else after then

changbin was the first to narrate his actions like he’s the lead star of a poorly-produced netflix film

what’s wrong with rich kid kim? is his greeting every time he crosses paths with changbin

he was just pissy that oNE time!! it was ONE time

taehyung thinks of the whole jungkook situation and relates it to him as much as possible because ya know,,, he is the main star and koo’s just a second lead

ok changbin’s netflix narrations are really rubbing off on him

“think of jeon jungkook as an elitist that everyone wants to be close with, and yet he actually looks like one of the good guys — like me — and he looks like he wants to shoot himself in the foot when he gets offered caviar oNE more time, and then you’re like uh, the comic relief???”

he spews his interpretation all in one breath effortlessly and you’re just blinking slowly to try and digest it all

it’s oddly too specific

hol up now why does it sound like he’s been actually waiting for you to ask him that

HOLD ON YOU’RE THE COMIC RELIEF???

“a clowN?” is what you react first and tae can’t believe that that’s the only thing you picked up from his perfectly sound analogy

“uhhhh like a bartender? a waitress? someone that isn’t a socialite,” he shrugs as he tries to make amends, remembering that the last time he went to a rich kid kim party, no one was technically in pennywise shoes nor juggling bowling pins

“are you trying to insult me tae?”

:((

yIKES are u gonna cry

“what?? no!! no!!” he launches from his seat as if he was falling and that catches him a couple of glances from rich kid kim loyalists (there’s a lot of things he’s unaware of), about to punch the floor if only their lord and savior didn’t take it in stride, “i’m not trying to insult you, but it’s how you take it, y’know?”

his nonchalance puts you on the edge even more, launching from your seat and uh you don’t exactly have any concerned fanbase there to worry for you

“so i sHOULD?? tae you’re basically saying that-”

alright that’s it

he needs to actually get through you this time because more often that not, you are so fucking stubborn that it beats him

he glares at you, eyes looking comically large and pissy as he’s stopped in the middle of slurping from his cup noodles to talk some sense into you

it feels like an eternity until he finishes his noodles and you were almost tempted to just eat the remaining portion to fasten his pace

“in rich kid kim terms, or reality y/n terms?”

you’re almost too scared to answer but you already do before you can even process, raising two fingers

and for a moment, you think tae’s actually gonna go easy on you!

whew you definitely aren’t prepared if-

“do you come out together by the main door? or from the back?”

your eyes are as large as they could possibly be and if you stay in that same shocked and taken-aback state, you’d need to look for those creams with how much your eyebrows and your forehead are creased

u-uh well now that i think about it-...” okay maybe you and jungkook don’t come into uni by any of the several hundred main entrances at all, but that doesn’t mean-

“does he hold your hand? carry your backpack? doesn’t matter if you have a dumbbell in there or not, does he carry it?” tae lists item after item, racking through his mind as these were also all the things he does, and all the things he’s picked up from everyone

“does he bring your water? lend his hoodie when you’re not even sniffling? pick a fight when someone even looks at you the wrong way? read something relatively romantic in english lit, then text you about it? brag about you to his friends? does he-...”

...

....

okay

you are awfully too silent for even your nature

tae was blissfully obvious just two seconds ago when he was enumerating boyfriend traits (that he himself exhibited, excuse you) left and right

then he started to realize that you weren’t stuttering nor interjecting on the side

he’s :O when you’re standing up from your seat, straightening out your hoodie, one that isn’t jungkook’s, that you’ve been anxiously wrinkling for the past ten minutes

“excuse me, tae. i have uh.. i have a lot to think about.”

everything he’s said made a solid number on you because not even distracting yourself becomes successful

not even your mini fixation on gouache helped you because so far it really sucks

it’s become a routine of jungkook to come over to your apartment almost everyday that it practically feels he’s living with you

he knows where you keep your milk and how cold you want the AC to blast and how you organize your groceries

and yet jungkook can’t-

“koo do you love me?”

it’s a question that was sprung so suddenly because come to think of it, you’re knitting and jungkook’s head is buried in your thighs while he tries to take a nap

he doesn’t bother trying to figure out your thought process because it’s a question that’s so simple that it seemed trivial

jungkook’s a dream when he nods and hums to your thighs, making you tread your hands on his hair instead of your roll of yarn

“mhmmm. more than life itself.”

he loves loves you!!! he doesn’t even know why you’re asking

“okay,” you hum back, crouching down to press a kiss on his nape that he appreciates because he’s a little ticklish on that spot, “hold my hand tomorrow then.”

:-)

jungkook launches from his position on your thighs, sitting up immediately that it’s gotten him dizzy

“... w-what?”

oh boy here it goes

you don’t feel like dancing around this issue anymore because after all, you do have the right to stick your finger in this!!

he’s your boyfriend i mean like what’s not clicking

“it’s not that big of a deal, jungkook. it’s not like i asked you to propose to me or something.”

his eyes widen more at that, his cheeks puffing out and it makes you realize that taehyung was right and it dOES look like he’s hiding a goldfish in there sometimes

you try to bite back a laugh at that but jungkook is devoid from any entertainment at all, looking like you just asked him to pick between you and the universe

“you uh want me to propose??”

he has his hand awkwardly caressing his nape and his cheeks flush as he’s trying to process things

yeah he DOES love you and he’ll marry you eventually but you’re doing this now!!! as in now??

how’s your wedding gonna work? god, can the two of you decide on the menu for your reception? does this mean your aunts and his aunts would mee?? no no that could not possibly be-

“you don’t need to,” you sheepishly mumble and you’re not gonna deny that marrying jungkook did cross your mind every once in awhile

you aren’t against it but marriage is not the issue at hand!! it’s just about him hOLDING your hand tomorrow and not forever now

“so you don’t want me to?”

...... christ where is this going to

there’s palpable tension in the air and you just feel like giving up, sinking further into the couch and koo’s reading TOO much into it

what if you slouching on the couch means you’re breaking up with him and you wouldn’t marry him even if he was the last person alive

“if you aren’t ashamed of me, or if you don’t feel like dYING when i’m five feet away from you and your jock friends-“

“lovie i-“

your ringless hand raises and prompts him to shut up, palms a little sweaty and fingers tired from stress-knitting

“then hold my hand. tomorrow. please.”

:-)

okay fine then

last night wasn’t exactly the best experience because you felt a little too distant even if he was enveloping you into his arms

last night, kook didn’t even dare to try and press mischievous kisses from your jaw to your shoulder because you felt untouchable with how wringed you were

then he had breakfast by himself much earlier and had to practically sHAKE you awake to whisper that he’s gonna leave earlier because he has a plan, and then proceeds to tell you to act as if you didn’t know that he has a plan, then go back to sleep and forget altogether that this literal rude awakening even happened

if you ask him, he is wearing the most boyfriend fit ever in this entire universe

which is uh his regular outfit of a fit shirt and a cool-looking jacket with chunk boots thrown on top of it

BUT!!!!

hear him out ok

he’s wearing a bracelet

uh huh

a bracelet...... that has the iNITIAL of your name

yuh how romantic is that

man both hallmark and netflix must be bankrupt because of jeon jungkook!! he’s sure of it

he just knows

the big deal of it all is jungkook waiting for you by the stairs, bouncing on heels out of displaced nervous energy because he’s too jittery to just coolly lean against the wall

“kook?”

you’re tilting your head at the sight, a little lost but more on fond as he smiles squarely 

“y/n! it’s uh, it’s you! wow!!” 

he exclaims but not without tucking his hands into his pockets and non-discreetly looking around your surrounding before he deems it clear enough, which is what you still find useless for him to even do it!!

the whole point of this is to not care!!

he’s gingerly placing himself beside you and although it’s not exactly what you asked for, it makes you sigh a breath of relief because it’s been tOO long that you’ve been next to him in this public atmosphere

he’s not exactly far, but he isn’t exactly bumping shoulders with you either

there are some glances alright 

jungkook has a loose grip on you but you could fEEL how his hand is so sweaty

he’s just looking at the floor and he allows you to guide him because if not for you, he would’ve been bumping into both lockers and people non-stop

u actually have first period together but you typically sit rowS away but now he’s just sitting on the chair right above yours

he isn’t next to you but he’s literally above you, so maybe you’ll take it

you can’t exactly text taehyung how it’s going because he could see everything from where he’s seated at

this was supposed to be an enjoyable time :(

a nice, giggly, warm enjoyable time with jungkook

but being this unrestricted meant him being so rigid that quite frankly, you’ve grown sick and wary of it in less than an hour

you’re making your way to the library and jungkook’s sTILL following you when you were sure he wouldn’t have

and if you ask him, he doesn’t know either why he followed you

he jus did it without thinking even if it meant him taking quick steps behind you with his head down 

he doesn’t know why you’re here and he feels a little guilty that he should know it if this was already a part off your routine

but this time, jungkook can’t look at you because this time, you’re the one who’s unreachable

who kNOWS what your empty stare could possibly mean

“we don’t have to do this anymore, y’know.”

that’s the quickest way to conclude it, nodding to yourself surely

meanwhile, jungkook is a millisecond away from a goddamn mELTDOWN

“w-what do you mean?”

“this!” you genuinely chuckle and even wiggle your hands around to make a point

he swears to god rn that he is gonna BLUBBER

“a-are you breaking up with me right now?”

his voice is already cracking and it reminds him that oh, yeah, the two of you are in the library and he’s about to cRY

you’re gasping when you take his trembling hand and jungkook wants to snatch it back and beg you to hold it tighter at the same time

oh no :-)

“it’s okay. i don’t mind anymore. and what, we’re gonna graduate like a year from now! doesn’t matter anymore.”

but wait it SHOULD matter

he’s gonna cry oh god oh god he’s gonna-

“you don’t need to change for me.”

:((

so that’s what

jungkook cries and it’s from relief that no, you aren’t breaking up with him

“o-okay,” he nods as he wipes his own tears that are blurring his vision and there’s sO much that he actually worries if it would budge his contacts

he just wants a hug from you to console him like you always do

but instead, you look around, settle on tapping his chin, then standing up

“cheer up. i’m gonna go eat lunch with felix.”

and then yOU’RE the one leaving him

quick

does he really look like a red-nosed, bleary-eyes, puffy-lipped mess??

say sike rn lads

jungkook clearly doesn’t look the best and he doesn’t exactly know what he was doing when he came out of the library and marched over to hang out with his friends like he always did

but something’s just different

he looks like someone whose world turned upon him and has nothing left to himself

surprisingly, it’s not hobi who’s the only one thinking of that

his friends are all ????

“y’okay man??”

namjoon’s the first to break the silence and everyone sighs because they were all holding a breath just by looking at jungkook’s distraught state

“yeah! just, uh, just —“

he’s back to being preppy in an instant but he can’t establish eye contact, swinging his arms by his sides and looking around just to look natural and gOD IS THAT YOU??

you’re you

you’re there, walking with felix and your backpack on hIS shoulder

.,., the same backpack that he’s bought you one birthday ago, on tHIS dude’s shoulder strewn as if he didn’t panic in between which variant should he buy for you

you look blissfully unaware that he’s cried himself just by thinking about you and your words and lack of actions just awhile ago

“nothing.” 

jungkook grits out and suddenly, he isn’t sad anymore :D

just uh

just a lil frustrated :D agitated :D or maybe feeling a little inadequate and outraged :D

this other mini breakdown going on his head doesn’t go unnoticed because here he is, so close to injuring his fist with how tight he’s clenching it

the guys, however.,.,

seokjin whistles and goes as far to squint his eyes intentionally that he looked like a distraught chihuahua, immediately grabbing jungkook’s actions as he nods his head to your direction

“y/n, right?”

jungkook froze and everyone is just waiting on him, mouths a little parted because they’ve caught on jin’s little plan and somehow, he might’ve struck a chord sO hard that-

“keep your fucking dick in your pants, seokjin.”

WOAH WOAH WOAH WOAH

everyone’s reacting to his seething like a flock of seagulls to a piece of bread

yeah they’ve seen the youngest of their group mad, but not tHIS type of mad that he looks like he would’ve hit his hyung with a skillet upright if he had one onhand

everyone’s visibly offended besides seokjin, the man mentioned just amusedly shrugging his shoulders with a dimpled smile that unintentionally provoked jungkook even more

“told you,” yoongi gives up his last batch of cookies to namjoon, a long-winded bet finally coming to an end because of what was only supposed to be a harmless question by jin

“if y/n was your girlfriend, you could’ve just said so!!” 

jin ruffles his hair and it doesn’t exactly take a genius to see how he cares for you!!

jungkook looks out for you in ways he couldn’t even notice doing

he always had two umbrellas in his backpack and when it was raining, he’d leave one on purpose by the front of this specific locker

hoseok actually borrowed an eraser without permission from kook once, but then he found a combination of tampons n napkins that he grimaced because what :// those aren’t even the good brands!! he has a sister and now has a handful of knowledge about monthly visits, so he takes note to talk to jungkook about it some time

there’s even an extra sweater in his backpack that always remains unotuched

one time, jimin complained that he was cold and turned to jungkook, full-well knowing that the fucker had oNE more sweater tucked in his bag, who just plains-out ignore him and even tch!s him under his breath

they somehow had a clue all along and now that jungkook realizes, he may be a little dENSE

OH RIGHT

WHY WOULD HE HAVE KEPT YOU HIDDEN

that’s entirely stoopid of him

what was the reason lmao

this time, jungkook’s more than eager to make it up to you

eVEN if you’ve insisted that nothing was wrong!!

it was just the last day before christmas break so it went by considerably fast-paced because even the professors were a little antsy to come home!!

that didn’t stop him, because clearly, jungkook holds your hand tight this time and he’s looking straight ahead

he looks proud

he feels natural and giggly the whole day that you couldn’t stop either because it’s a complete 360 from yesterday

wouldn’t absolutely stop holding your hand and following you

even kisses the top of your head like a kitten repeatedly

eVEN SAT IN A CLASS HE DIDN’T HAVE TO BE WITH YOU

something’s up with jungkook alright

the two of you are back again on the couch — you knitting, and him buried and napping on your thighs

it’s a bit of a shock when he grabs your hand all of a sudden, a half-sleepy and full-on dreamy look on his face when he’s looking up at you from being laid down on your lap

a red silicone band :D

you’re still speechless when he’s sliding it on your ring finger, admittedly getting the wrong finger the first time which is why he’s sheepish and holding back a giggle

“jungkook....?”

unsurprisingly, it looks good on you

he seems to think so himself when he’s giving you another one, holding his hand out and you’re doing the same without even an explanation present

“it’s a placeholder :)”

a placeholder?? hold on ur heart is a lil fragile

your eyes widen and your lips downturn on instinct, making him giggle as he smushes your cheeks to just let him explain

“all this marriage talk just had me thinking-”

“are you PROPOSING right now??”

both the mix of panic and excitement stains you clearly, mouth dropping open as you try to fumble for atleast something to wipe your face with

hee-hee 

“maybe i am, maybe i’m not :)”

jungkook’s such a romantic it’s SICKENING

his mind drifts off and you can’t blame him!!

his family’s well-off so maybe he could cash in his next ten birthdays for a loan or maybe even a house to help ease the two of you in

maybe the two of you could even build it from the ground up

the two of you could also move into this nice apartment after graduation!! he’s been eyeing it for quite awhile actually

“you wanna get married early?”

“maybe i do, maybe i don’t :D”

jungkook’s faux nonchalance makes you grin yourself, the both of you knowing what answer he’d yield anyway

“as long as it’s you,” you declare surely, bending down to press a kiss on his nose that tickles him and makes his heart full

“as long as it’s me?”

jungkook smiles cheekily at your statement pressing kisses on the top of your thighs that’s got you fumbling at him to just embrace you immediately

he’s a little bulky with all the muscles he’s gained and worked on, a little pressured when he’s sitting on your lap upright and won’t absolutely stop kissing you sweetly

“you should start on knitting your wedding garter now :D”

[mieohmy]

𝖠𝗍 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖲𝖾𝗋𝗏𝗂𝖼𝖾 | 𝖪𝗂𝗆 𝖲𝗎𝗇𝗐𝗈𝗈

PAIRING: kim sunwoo x fem reader

GENRE: fluff, angst, humor, strangers-to-lovers, unrequited love au, dancer!reader, formeridoltrainee!sunwoo

WC: 14.7k 

NOTES: drinking+alcohol consumption, slight cursing, tiny hint of sexual harassment, a temporarily sad sunwoo :(

SUMMARY: for years, sunwoo’s harbored a crush on the same girl. even though his feelings are probably unrequited and she has no idea, insert you into the picture: a recently-turned-single person that finds interest in assisting his love quest! well, except for the fact that some feelings (that really shouldn’t be happening) begin to stir..

+ happy valentines day to everyone ^^

Day 11. Of your newly turned single life. You’re not even sure why it’s upsetting. He wasn’t that impressionable and left an unpleasant aftertaste in your mouth. Maybe it wasn’t even him, the way he randomly suggested an end to your several months of life together. 

Maybe it was just you. 

Nonetheless, drinks are always a way to get rid of all unwanted thoughts, the liquid flowing through your body and numbing all senses. But apparently not enough for you to miss a rising conflict at a couple tables away from yours one night. 

 You didn’t want to involve yourself in someone else’s business, you affirmed internally, downing another shot. But the increasing noise and tension grab your attention nevertheless. 

There’s some guy. Wasted, you can definitely tell. It’s what he attracted that’s causing all the disturbance to your inevitably lonely night. 

You’re not really sure what’s going on, but he’s obviously pissing off some other people, and the noise isn’t going down. 

Seriously, no one else is gonna do anything? 

It’s getting increasingly worse, and once of the guys raises an arm, (probably to incite something violent you don’t want to deal with, but you do anyway) your body takes over your mind and forces you over to the table. 

“Excuse me, not to pry or anything, but is there something wrong?” You don’t even know who this horribly drunk guy is, and still, here you are, attempting to save his butt. 

Maybe you should’ve used your brain once to actually look and see who you were facing against. The extremely bulky man scoffs, squinting at you. 

“And who are you? Another fangirl of his?”

The drunk man suddenly stirs next to you, aggressively pointing at the guy. “Don’t worry about him,” he slurs, “he’s just jealous he doesn’t have anyone that likes him back.”

Muscly guy (you can’t think of any other way to describe him) lets out a loud guffaw, slapping his thigh rather hard. “And what about you? What about that girl you’ve liked since forever? Can’t say anything back now, huh?” 

Drunk boy (another great nickname) abruptly stands up, knocking glasses over and making more of a ruckus. You notice he’s super tensed, and his eyes flash something you can’t read. 

“Don’t you dare say anything about her.” 

“Oooh, the tough boy becomes a softie. It’s sad how-“

It is sad, you think. It’s sad how he never gets to finish his sentence before the supposedly wasted guy launches a solid fist at his face. 

And then you’re not sure what really happens next. A lot of chaos that wasn’t settling well for a still somewhat drunk person like you. 

Although, you miraculously manage to appease the angered employees and drag the guy with you outside. 

“No-just- Sit!” You huff, finally shoving him down onto a bench. You forgot how exhausting it was to take of other drunk people. You have absolutely no clue as to why you’re still helping this guy, but it’s too late to just leave him now, you suppose. 

Slumping next to him, you exhale, enjoying the finally peaceful moment. It’s a cold night, but you feel.... warm, buzzing alive. The usual numbness in your body was nowhere to be found. 

“Well, aren’t you gonna thank me?” 

His head ever so slowly turns to you. “Me? Why would I?” Scoffing, you glance him over. 

“You’re such a troublemaker, that I can tell. Maybe I should call you that from now on unless you give me a name?” 

The guy starts humming a random tune, eyes closed and basking in the moment. “Sunwoo. Kim Sun. Wooooo.” 

You nod, making a note in your head to find a Kim Sunwoo later to pay you back. All of a sudden, you hear sniffles. 

Is he- is he crying? But he’s laughing too? What kind of crazy person did I just save...

“Um, are you alright? What’s so funny?” 

His head lols toward you. 

“Have you ever been in love with someone for years? And they never knew? And then they started dating your ex-best friend, and even after he left, you stayed by their side and never said anything about how you felt?” Until the guy freakin shows back up again after years, and then you feel like the stupidest person ever for not saying anything?” 

You blink. “.... I’m sorry?” 

“Well, that’s my life right now.”  

You think about how you should probably be at home instead of sitting next to a stranger at 3am, but you stay. And listen. 

He spills everything. The girl he not so secretly likes. The guy she’s dating. Was, he corrects. Who also was coincidentally his best friend when they were younger. Until said ex-friend went overseas for school. Leaving sunwoo and his crush together all alone. And then ex-friend has to mess it all up by unexpectedly coming back to Korea. 

You weren’t asking for the juicy details, but what can you expect for a very much still intoxicated person? 

And after the whole story’s done and said, you can only laugh. 

“So he came back? From overseas? Without even saying anything in advance?” 

“Yup, and now I’m here. Left alone, just like before. Knowing them, she won’t be able to resist his charms, and they’ll probably be back together in a month, give or take.”

He laughs again, a sad bark. “Honestly, I don’t blame her. They’re like soulmates.” 

Whistling, you shake your head. “That’s really something, Kim Sunwoo... You’re really something.” 

He clumsily stands up, giving you a surprisingly cute smile. “Thanks, stranger. I don’t even know your name.” 

Coughing, you stand up as well, ignoring his remark. “Do you have someone to take you home? It’s really late..” 

Sunwoo looks around aimlessly before giggling, “I don’t know where my phone is.” 

“It’s in your pocket.” 

“Oh my god, are you a psychic or something?”

“You took it out a minute ago to show me pictures of your crush.” 

“Haha, right.” 

Rolling your eyes, you decide to take initiative for once and reach for the phone in his pocket, ignoring his little sound of surprise. 

“Wow, you don’t even have a password. Is this Eric guy alright to call? You know what- never mind, I’m just gonna call anyways.” 

......

“Hello? Where the heck are you?? It’s freakin almost four and-“

“Excuse me? Is this kim sunwoo’s friend?”

“A GIRL?? wait, you don’t sound like-”

Interrupting him, you explain everything while somehow able to watch over a melancholy sunwoo gaze off into the distance like in a melodramatic movie. 

His friend Eric? sends you an address, and you haul sunwoo over. 

Once the door opens, you don’t even stay to hear what he says, just leaving sunwoo and trudging your way back home. To finally sleep. To get back to your boring life and forget about Kim sunwoo. 

ꔫ 

Until you see Sunwoo again. You were surprised to run into him, almost not recognizing who he was. 

Thanks to the ice cream you wanted to remind you of the favor Kim Sunwoo totally owed back. 

After purchasing your lovely snack, you spin around to leave when you bump into someone.  

“Ah- I’m sorry,” you stop. His face.... could it be?

Eyes wide, you tilt your head at him. “Oh- troublemaker.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, confused eyes boring into yours for a solid minute.

“Who? ..wait a second.” You almost laugh as the recognition slowly flickers in his eyes.

Everything in his body screams to run. Sunwoo attempts to sprint as fast as he can away, but he’s extremely shocked at how fast your reflexes are, hand clenched tight on his wrist.

“Wait, are you just gonna try and run away after I helped you?”

Coughing awkwardly, he bows and still tries to get the hell out of there- Eric’s words about some girl and totally wasted resurfacing from his memory.

Your words prevent him from leaving. “How are you and your crush doing?” You say it so casually, it’s almost as if you two are friends.

Sunwoo sighs frustratedly, contemplating before accepting the defeat and beckoning you outside to follow him. He isn’t one to talk to strangers -Sunwoo likes to describe himself as a ‘cold and silent’ type of person. On the other hand, he figured he’s already spilled everything to you while drunk.

But it’s not just that, Sunwoo finds it strangely easy to open up to you. Possibly because from as much as he can recall, you didn’t judge him for having a stupid one-sided crush for the longest time.

Once seated on the curbside comfortably, he starts.

“It’s okay, I guess. I don’t know if she’s met up with him yet, how she’s feeling. Honestly, I have no idea what to do.”

Humming, you open your ice cream with gleaming eyes. Sunwoo doesn’t miss your face, unconsciously smiling but dropping it when you face him with the ice cream positioned at your lips.

“Well.... you said it’s been years, right?” He nods.

“Maybe things have changed. Maybe she doesn’t like him anymore. I mean, how do you know she doesn’t like you back? You’ve been by her side for so long, she might’ve developed feelings- you never know.”

“That’s the thing,” he groans, “I don’t know. I have absolutely no idea if she likes me back or not.”

Tapping your feet in a random beat against the ground, you contemplate.

“... maybe you could test it out.”

“How?” he huffs.

“Hint at it, so she’ll have no choice but to know. Or even better-make her jealous. Flirt with other girls and see how she reacts. It’s quite simple, troublemaker.”

His eyes flick to yours, irritation evident. “Will you stop calling me that? And also tell me who you are if you’re just gonna start giving me love advice? A name?” (On the inside, he’s wondering why he’s making such a fuss over you; someone he’s met a total of one time before this.)

You shrug nonchalantly, enjoying the taste of your savory ice cream. Darn, you should’ve tried this flavor out before...

“Does it matter? After all, I’m the one who saved your ass.”

Sunwoo scowls, even when he was drunk he didn’t remember you being so exasperating without even trying.

“Whatever, I guess I should say thanks for helping me that one night. You won’t tell anyone about this, alright?” He glares.

If you’re trying to be scary, it doesn’t work, -is what you want to say. Instead, you respond with raised eyebrows and a tiny smirk. 

“No, I’m not that disrespectful of a person. You would know that the best, wouldn’t you? After I helped you and all?”

He mutters ‘you’re annoying...’ under his breath.

Collecting your things, you brush yourself off and stand up, not bothering to look down at him. “I’m not annoying. I’m y/l/n y/n.”  

You miss the disgruntled expression of his face, what a shame.

Taking a couple steps forward, you abruptly stop and turn your head to smile back at him. “Don’t forget, Kim Sunwoo. Be expecting that favor.”

ꔫ 

When you offered to get drinks for everyone at the studio, you didn’t think you’d end up carrying four stacks of beverages on top of each other. 

Making your way slowly and precisely to the exit, eyes locked on the wobbly coffee tower, a body knocks into you right as the door opens. 

You can only watch in slow motion as the tower knocks over, one drink toppling over. 

However, you manage to catch that flying drink. Dang, my reflexes are doing great lately.

As for the tower, it’s.... actually saved? By a pair of hands stabilizing the sides. You’re eternally grateful to whoever’s standing behind the tall tower that was able to rescue your precious drinks. 

Exhaling in relief, you tilt your body to look past the barrier and thank your savior. It’s a... “Sunwoo?” 

“What’s with all the coffees?” 

You narrow your eyes. “It’s for my work. Now, if you would excuse me.“

You attempt to push your way past to the exit, but sunwoo lets out a whoa! and reattaches his grip back to your leaning tower of drinks. 

 “You’re gonna kill someone with these.” 

Rolling your eyes, you retort, “It’s all good, so please-“

“Alright, whatever you say, y/n.” 

Biting your lip, you slowly turn your body to the door, preparing your hand to let go and quickly push open the door. 

Spoiler- it doesn’t work, and you’re left frustrated with sunwoo still watching your struggle for a couple of minutes. 

“You know, if you’re just gonna stand there, maybe you could do something more... helpful?” 

“Oh? I thought you didn’t need any help.” Sunwoo believes he doesn’t care much about assisting others, but watching you is too amusing.

“Just get over here. Before I start calling you some other nicknames.”

He smirks. “At your service, miss.”

He takes a couple of stacks, relieving your tired arms, and you manage to make it outside, slumping down on a bench. 

“Thank you, sunwoo.” 

“Does that mean I don’t owe you a favor anymore?” 

“Um, no,” you snort, “ that was just you being polite and helping someone else like any other person would.”

He puts his hands on his waist, pretending to think thoughtfully. 

“I think that was about, 20? 30? dollars worth of drinks that could’ve been spilled. “If-,” he points with a finger, “I hadn’t saved you.” 

Squinting back up at him, you slightly shake your head in annoyance. “Fine. We’re even now.” 

He snaps his fingers. “Ah, that’s right. I tried the jealousy thing or whatever you were talking about.” 

“And?” 

“It doesn’t work,” he deadpans. “She knows I’m not one to flirt with random girls-if anything, it’s the opposite, and I usually reject them.” 

You raise an eyebrow, fiddling with your hair. “Okay? Why are you telling me that?” 

“I’m meeting her in a couple of days at a restaurant, and I want you to go with us.”

Your face shows no reaction. “We just got even, and you’re asking for another favor, troublemaker?”

Gathering all the drinks, you’re about to leave when he stops you again. 

“Wait. I don’t think I explained myself clearly. I want you to tag along, and I can see how she reacts, you know?”

“No, I understand what you mean. And no thank you. You’ve known her since what, high school? And we’ve only met like a couple of times. That’s awkward. I’m gonna be a total third wheel, and it’s the literal worst, so I’m fine.”

He stomps his feet in frustration, making you cough at his sudden cuteness. 

“Please. I’m a prideful man and don’t like asking others for favors. So just come and play along with me. I don’t really talk to other girls, so you’re the only way for me to see if she gets jealous or not. Besides, I’m always the one paying for the food in the end.”

He had you at food. You suddenly nod, replying, “Alright, I’ll go. Just text me the place and time.” 

He scoffs, “it’s always the food...” 

Ignoring him, you make your way back to the studio with your coffee tower before hearing a yell. 

“Wait! y/l/n y/n!! I need your number?!!!?” 

You stifle a laugh, hearing his quickly approaching footsteps from behind. 

ꔫ 

He sends you the details the next day, with a winking selfie of himself (that you ignore). 

‘i sent u the location of the restaurant’

‘dont forget were still trying to make her jealous’

‘and dress up’

‘the nicer u look the better’

‘not that looks matter that much tho’

‘and also not that i think u look nice or anything either, dont get any ideas’

There’s no option but to leave him on read after his choice of grammar. Just kidding, you send a simple ‘ok’ and don’t think about it until the day comes. 

You can’t tell if this is a normal feeling, but your insides feel queasy, palms slightly sweaty like you’re about to perform in front of a huge crowd.

Why do you feel nervous? It’s just meeting the girl that sunwoo has liked for years. That’s all. 

Closing your door, you retrieve your phone to check the location he sent you.

Actually, sunwoo asked you to meet him earlier near the restaurant. You’re not sure why, he simply answered, ‘research tings’ you corrected his spelling after. 

He stands a couple feet away from you, anxiously tapping his foot. 

“Wow, didn’t know you had such an e-boy style.” 

He whips around towards the sound of your voice. Sunwoo isn’t sure why he’s surprised, you look quite... pretty nice. 

Coughing, he mutters, “I appreciate that you took the time to dress up.”

You duck your head in perhaps, shyness? Glancing at your phone, you remark, “we have five minutes.”

He suddenly jolts, checking his outfit. “Hey, how do I look? Okay? Does it seem like I tried too hard?” 

Your eyes flick to him for a split second before looking away. “You look good.”

There’s a pause before he clears his throat. “Is that it?” 

You inhale, facing him again. “Yeah. What do you want me to say? Oh, you’re so handsome, and your stylish clothes match your hair perfectly!” 

Sunwoo suddenly grins. “Well, if you wanted to call me handsome you could’ve done so earlier.” 

While you’re distracted grumbling about him, Sunwoo sneakily captures a shot, the sound making you jump.

“Why.... why did you just take a picture of me?”

He grins, shrugging. “Contact photo.” 

Your face suddenly returns back to its normal blank expression, and you take his arm. He’s surprised, looking at you before you mutter, “Is that her?”

You can remember the time drunk sunwoo showed you photos of his crush, but to be honest, you didn’t really pay close attention to her. His eyes glance around before he swallows and nods. “She’s coming over here. And don’t worry, I told her I invited a friend.” 

Sunwoo watches as his longtime crush spots him, shooting a wave and a smile. Then he sees her eyes flick down to you, the smile quickly fading as she walks over.  

Once she arrives, she takes your hand off his arm, making your eyes widen in astonishment.

“Excuse me- whatever it is you want from him, I don’t think he’s interested.” 

“Sunwoo!” she turns toward the boy with her back to you, “where’s your friend?” 

You and Sunwoo stare at each other in shock before you raise a hand over your mouth to contain your laughter.

He blinks, looking back down at the girl. His hand slowly raises to point at you. “Right here.” 

You weren’t able to notice earlier, but you can tell why sunwoo likes her. 

Oh. She’s prettier in person. 

She stares at you for a moment before spinning back to him, whispering not so quietly, “since when did you talk to girls that weren’t me?” 

Sunwoo rolls his eyes, “That doesn’t matter. This is y/n.”

You give a polite smile, accepting her very quick apology. 

ꔫ 

“Actually Sunwoo, this is a trendy place to go to now, I wonder how you got a table- I actually came here once before with...... ah, never mind. “

You quietly listen to her talk, following behind as she sits at a table. 

Not wanting to make it awkward, you sit across from her, leaving two seats open-one next to you and one next to her. 

Also leaving Sunwoo to stop, eyes flicking between the two options. 

“Why are you hesitating?” the girl says impatiently, “just sit.”

You glance at him, almost speaking with your eyes, this is a chance. 

Sunwoo slides down next to you as you study the girl, waiting for any sign of a reaction. 

You do get something. It’s not much, just a curious look at the two of you seated next to each other.

After ordering, Sunwoo chooses the same dish as you. 

You smirk. “Ah, of course. My taste in food is excellent.” 

He scoffs, “No, I decided I was gonna get this way before you. If anything, I have great taste, and you’re just a copycat.” 

Grinning, you retort, “Yeah right, I’m actually a psychic. Sound familiar?” 

He groans, bringing a hand to cover his face. You laugh at his misery. “Let’s not bring that backup...” 

You turn to the girl, casually sipping her drink as she studies the two of you. But once realizing you’re both looking at her, she shoots up.

“Um-did you say something?” 

You can tell. The way he stares at her, the soft smile that appears only when she speaks to him. You honestly don’t understand how she hasn’t figured it out yet - that is if she really doesn’t know. 

Deep inside, you think you know the answer. But you don’t want to assume anything just yet-you’ve only reached the opening stages of the plot.

In the end, Sunwoo doesn’t get much. If he’s learned anything, it’s that you’re a much better actor than you seem. The subtle touches, flirting. He knows it’s all for show, though. 

But for you, you get much more than sunwoo. A full stomach without having to pay anything. And you got to meet the girl of ‘sunwoo’s dreams’. 

She’s nice. Funny. Really pretty. You can see yourself becoming friends with her. All in all, she’s a great person to have a crush on. Except for all the ex-boyfriend stuff.

Before you leave, she speaks up once more.

“I’m kinda upset.” she pouts. You and sunwoo immediately look at each other, waiting for her to continue. 

“You never told me you had other female friends. You always said you weren’t interested, I thought you would’ve mentioned it to me or something....”

Awkwardly turning to you, she bows and apologizes once more. “Sorry again, for earlier. It was really nice to meet you. Let’s see each other again, Sunwoo’s other female friend.”

Sunwoo elbows her, “what’s that supposed to mean?” But she only laughs. 

You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you remember he mentioned he was gonna hang out with her after this, just the two of them.

Waving bye to them, you suddenly freeze once you spot someone behind sunwoo.

It’s... your ex. Coincidentally in the same location as you. Walking in your direction. Luckily, you don’t think he’s spotted you. Yet.

It shouldn’t bother you as much, but it does.

Sunwoo notices your fallen face. “Y/n??” 

He doesn’t know what’s behind him that caused that reaction of yours, but he recognizes that expression anywhere. It’s the same one he probably had on too. Whenever she was with him. 

He wraps an arm around your shoulder, turning you the other way so you can’t look. You break out of your trance and stare up at him. “What... what are you doing?”

Sunwoo only stares ahead of him. Then he walks. And you do too. 

He walks until you’re outside, away from everyone. 

It’s silent, but you gather some confidence to speak up. “Thank you.. what about your friend? Isn’t she still inside?”  

“Oh, she’s probably fine waiting. It’s okay. This seemed more important right now anyway.”

That’s the first time your heart fluttered, whether you knew it or not. 

ꔫ 

After that, you find out sunwoo texts a lot. Well, he texts you a lot. Mostly about girl advice. Which he shouldn’t even be asking you -I mean you’re the one who recently got out of a relationship. 

Even if you complain that he’s annoying, you find helping him to be pretty entertaining. Also attacking his texting skills.

Because the rest of your life is just that boring at the moment.

That could be a factor in why you decided to go on a blind date. With some random guy. You weren’t even looking for anything serious, just a night out different from your usual staying in. 

But you deeply regret wearing shorter clothes. He wasn’t bad at first. And then came the touching. 

It was just a knock of the feet. It seemed like nothing, a mere couple of accidents. And when he moved to sit next to you instead of in front, you should’ve known. 

His thigh touching yours, an arm around the back of the seat. 

Occasionally you would cough and scoot away, trying any way to send signals of back off. 

After his hand brushes your thigh, you sigh. “I’m sorry, but please don’t touch me, while I’m asking nicely.” 

He chuckles, moving his arm to hang around your shoulders. “Come on, you agreed to go on this date with me. Might as well have some fun.”

You calmly fling his arm off you, standing up to grab your stuff when he just won’t stop, will he? 

“Let go of my hand,” you say calmly.

“Girl, just-“

“She asked you to let go, didn’t she?”

Why is it that he keeps popping up in your life? And it’s not just him alone, he’s with her again. Probably came here together to eat too, you guess.

“Who are you? Her boyfriend? Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Does it matter? She asked you to stop, and you didn’t.” 

Sunwoo harshly removes his grip from yours and takes your hand, leading you outside of the place. 

You move your hand away from his, but the warmth still remains. Arms crossed, you only look at him blankly. “You know I could've handled it, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, but sometimes guys are really stubborn and need someone to physically beat them up so they listen.”

That causes a tiny smile to surface. “I’m guessing you came with her, right? How’s it going?” 

He shrugs, “dunno. She’s been acting okay since the last time we three went to that restaurant.” 

You nod thoughtfully. “Well, are you gonna keep her waiting? You can go back in now, I’m going home.” 

“What? I’ll take you.”

You frown. “Why do you want to take me home? To find out where I live, stalker?” 

Sunwoo scoffs. “First troublemaker and now stalker? And no, I’m just being a gentleman. Now accept my offer before I take it back. I’m not always this kind.” 

Huffing, you begin your walk back, leaving him behind. 

“Hey-! Wait up!” Once again, sunwoo has no clue why he follows you instead of easily going back to where he should be- originally wanted to be. 

The first couple of minutes of the walk are a peaceful silence, basking in the cool night. It doesn’t last for long, because something comes to your head.

“Wait. What about your crush?”

“Why do you keep asking about her? When you’re in more distress? Of course, I’m gonna help you right now.”

“That’s not what I mean... if you’re just trying to make her jealous, you don’t have to walk me all the way.”

I don’t get why you’re here with me, instead of with the girl you like. 

Sunwoo stops. “Wait what- Do you really think I would do that?” 

Your nod causes him to scoff. “No, I told you before, I’m just being polite. It’s fine. She can wait.” 

“You hang out together a lot,” you remark, “you must really like her.”

“Yeah, I just- I think she’s just bored and asks me to go out with her because no one else will... and I always accept.” 

“Oh. It seemed like you were the one constantly forcing her to go out with you.” 

Sunwoo laughs, if it’s sarcastic or genuine you can’t tell. “You’re funny.”

You take a couple more steps before deciding to break the silence that reformed. “Anyways, aren’t you curious about how we met? That night?”

Frowning, he responds, “that’s right, I don’t exactly remember.” 

“To start with, I actually went to that bar because I got broken up with.”

Sunwoo makes a surprised face. “I see...” 

“Yeah, and you were there that night. Causing a scene with some bulky guys, and I saved your butt. You talked. A lot. I listened. That was it. Oh, and that day at the mall... it was my ex that I saw.”

He hums thoughtfully. “So that’s who it was....”

Once you reach your doorstep, Sunwoo suddenly breaks out in a dance. 

“Niceee- I paid back the favor for making you come with me to that restaurant!” 

“That doesn’t count Kim Sunwoo because you came here on your own will. Goodnight.”

Shutting the door in his face, you hear him spluttering from outside. That guy is really something.

ꔫ 

Sunwoo finds your requests very weird. Your service is attempting to help him win over his crush, and in return, you only want a simple hangout with his company? It’s strange.

(If he asked you, you would probably just say you were bored and had nothing to do. That’s the only reason. Really.)

One afternoon, he receives a text from you, your contact saved as “annoying y/n”. 

‘Let’s get food. That means you’re paying. I’m at my studio right now, so 3?” 

‘where r u’

‘i can pick u up’

‘-current address sent-’

One thing he wasn’t expecting from you was a dance studio? And weirdly, he feels a tiny bit guilty for not knowing anything about you, except your name.... and your ex. 

Cautiously opening the door, he looks around for any sign of where you could be. 

But the place is kinda confusing with all the doors, so he eventually gives up and decides to ask some nearby strangers.

Ignoring their blushes and remarks of his handsomeness, Sunwoo asks, “Do you know where y/l/n y/n is?”

They quickly point at a door before running off, whispering ‘is he their boyfriend or something??’ 

Sunwoo coolly makes his way over, peeking through the small window.

 Another thing he doesn’t expect is how good of a dancer you are. It gives him flashbacks- back when he used to do routines in his old practice room. 

He observes the way your limbs move so fluidly but still sharp and exact. Everything just feels so right, in tune with the music. It almost takes his breath away, watching you for who knows how long.

Once the music stops and your tired breaths fill the room does sunwoo finally pop in, clapping and nodding. 

“Pretty good, stranger.” 

You scrunch your nose. “Is that my nickname now? Not even a little more creative?”

Ah, there it is. “You know, I like you a lot better when you’re dancing, not talking, and being mean to me.”

You blink. “So you like me, huh? That was fast.” 

He ignores your comment. “You should be grateful you’re in the presence of Kim sunwoo, alright? Many girls would kill to be you.”

“Not your crush, though? I’m sorry. That was low of me.”

“It was,” he agrees. Falling back onto the ground, he stares up at the ceiling, speaking up. 

“How long have you been dancing for?”

The atmosphere feels strangely peaceful. “Since I was young. Just kinda picked it up for fun, and it became a thing. I like it -sometimes it’s exhausting, but I like it.”

His eyes fixate on the blinding lights. “Hmm, this place is reminding me of when I was younger. In high school.”

You join him on the ground, the sound of your breaths can only be heard in the room. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I used to be an idol trainee. Practiced for a couple of years before quitting.”

You turn your head to look at him. “Impressive. What did you do?”

Sunwoo closes his eyes. “Rapping. Dancing. Singing. A little bit of everything. But mostly rapping.”

“Will you rap something then?”

His eyes flick open. “What? I can’t just rap off the top of my head.”

You pout, “no fun. Well, can you still dance?”

“Maybe..” 

You suddenly sit up. “Should we dance something together?”

Your eyes sparkle, the first time sunwoo’s noticed them doing that. 

“Just- don’t make fun of me. It’s been years.”

“I won’t.” 

“... -guarantee anything.”

 Sunwoo’s doesn’t know. What this fleeting feeling in his chest is. When your hands softly correct his position, when you try not to laugh at his mistake. And then your delighted face when he gets it right in the end. 

It’s probably nothing, sunwoo thinks. He’s sure, very sure that he’s still in love with his high school crush..

It’s all strange, really.

ꔫ 

You would say your life is pretty boring. You didn’t do much until Kim Sunwoo shoved his way in. 

Your next meeting occurred a couple weeks after the dance practice incident. It was weird, almost like fate was constantly crossing your paths (maybe they were huhu). 

The mart’s automatic doors slide close behind as you walk into the night. 

But you stop. There’s some kind of shuffling, commotion coming from the dark alley next to you. So what better than to check it out, right?

It’s almost pitch black, but you’re 99.9% sure some guys are beating someone up. So you yell.

“Hey! What’s going on?”

Thankfully, they don’t try to attack you, instead just running off in the opposite direction after the sound of your voice.

It’s hard to see, but you briskly make your way to the huddled figure on the ground, heart pounding.

“Sir? Sir? Are you alright?” You’re trembling but still manage to gently shake his shoulder. 

And when he looks up, you can only gasp. 

“Troublemaker?”

“...y/n? Why are you here?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? Oh my god, are you okay?”

He attempts to sit up, chuckling lowly. “Just got ganged up on. I guess it happens when you mess with the wrong people.”

Your eyes flash. “This isn’t the time to be joking, sunwoo. Where are you hurt?”

He groans, sighing and holding a hand out in front of you. “Just.... don’t. Leave. I can take care of myself, it used to happen all the time.” 

You can tell something definitely happened to him, but what exactly is the question.

You scoff, squatting next to him. “Listen Kim Sunwoo,” you speak harshly, “I don’t care how long we’ve known each other. I’m not letting anyone obviously hurt like this alone. If you’re just gonna stay here, then I’ll drag you out myself if I have to.”

There’s a break before you notice he’s slighty shaking. Is he? Is he laughing? What a crazy guy.

“You’re funny,” he chuckles. And then an arm is held out to you. 

You take it, pulling him up. 

Groaning, you note he’s heavier than you thought. One of his arms hanging on your shoulder, yours around his waist. He’s slightly limping too.

You hold back the urge to scold Sunwoo. What did you do to make yourself come out this bad?

Slowly, you walk over to a bench, but before you make it, you spot a certain someone across the street. 

And you think he does too. 

You stiffen. He freezes. Biting your lip, you look back at sunwoo, trying to read his face. 

“Is that- is that him with her? The ex?” 

He nods, eyes never leaving the two, who were probably hanging out together-maybe even going on a date. He has no clue and no wish to find out. The familiar feeling sinks to the bottom of his stomach. 

You shake your head, clearing all distractions and eventually making it to the bench where you set him down. 

“I need to get medicine. If you leave, I swear I’ll-“

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t think I can anyway.”

But before you run to the store conveniently 10 steps away, you unwrap the soft scarf around your neck, raising it up to his face. 

“W-what are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” you say softly, “and put this on. This way, you won’t look at them together, and it’ll be a little easier.” 

Gently, you tie the scarf around his eyes. 

“Five minutes. I promise I’ll be back.”

ꔫ 

Once you return, a bag of medicine in hand, you set it down next to him, causing him to slightly jump. 

But a lightbulb flashes in your brain. Quietly tiptoeing in front of him, you aim the camera and shoot. 

You laugh at the way sunwoo jumps slightly at the noise, blindly looking around, and you also laugh at the way the photo came out-an unsuspecting Kim sunwoo. 

“What was that? Did you just take a picture?”

He can’t see, but you grin cheekily. “Contact photo.”

Squatting in front of him, your warm hands deftly unwrap the scarf blindfold, removing it from his face. 

He squints, your concerned face coming into view.

“It wasn’t too bad, right?”  

“Delete it.” His reply is curt. 

“Why? I needed a photo for you.”

“Delete it or retake it!! It looks bad. I’m literally wearing a blindfold,” he whines, arms weakly attempting to snatch your phone away.

Luckily for you, he isn’t able to move much and steal it. “No,” you respond indignantly, “it’s cute.”

There’s a pause.

You quickly clear your throat, pretending nothing just happened as you rummage through the plastic bag. 

Sunwoo feels weird. Having someone caring for him. It was usually him looking after everyone else- his mother, sister. He can’t remember the last time someone else took care of him.

You take out a box, screwing the cap off the bottle. 

“They’re gone now. You don’t have to worry anymore.”  

“What?”

You stare at him again. “Your crush? And her ex?”

He shifts. “Oh, right.”

Humming, you examine him again. “I’m not a professional, but I’ll try my best..” 

Sunwoo sighs once more. “As I said, I don’t know why you’re doing this-“

You cut him off. “Just be quiet, will you?” 

After putting ointment on his bruised face, you shuffle through the bad to find another tube, letting out an aha! when you retrieve it.

When you lean in super close to his face, sunwoo tries his best not to turn red. He blames it on the weather.. even though the temperatures were freezing today.

“Why are you helping me?” he mumbles. Sunwoo attempts to avoid looking you in the eye -he doesn’t want to know what’ll happen if he does.

It’s silent for a little bit as you concentrate on all the minor scratches and bruises on his face. Focusing on the cut on his lip, you whisper, “you’re such a troublemaker, aren’t you?” 

Offended, he jerks away from you. You return it with a glare and a hand on his chin to hold his face still. 

“You can’t even deny it. Now stay still.” 

His heart flutters at your delicate hold on his face, soft and focused gaze. Why are you like this?

After a couple more treatments and unusual thumpings in his chest, sunwoo is free to go.

You’re satisfied with your work. “ I would help you home, but I’m tired so call someone or whatever.” 

Pausing, you add, “and that’s another favor from you, Kim Sunwoo.”

He rolls his eyes but can’t help thinking of the next time you’ll call for him. He goes home feeling warmer than he remembered, the ghost of your touch still lingering in his dreams. 

ꔫ 

It’s actually not as boring as one might expect to go to a restaurant alone, in your opinion. 

No effort has to be made to communicate to someone else, no worrying about if there’s food stuck in your teeth. No worrying about anyone else but yourself.

So that’s why you alone find your way to the entrance of a nice place- it had almost a five-star rating online.

The waiter seems a bit surprised you’re here by yourself, but you shrug it off. Who cares- you came for the food anyways. 

Following the server past other tables and chairs,  you abruptly get stopped when a chair pushes out, blocking your way. 

The guy seems to notice you then, getting out of his seat and apologizing. 

“Whoops, my bad.”

He looks somewhat familiar. 

“Oh! Aren’t you-“

“Sunwoo’s friend Eric, right?”

“Y/n???”

You can recognize that voice anywhere. It’s almost making you frustrated. “Again you?”

Spinning around, you didn’t imagine a whole table of eyes locked onto you.

You hear whispers of who’s y/n?, and spot a startled Sunwoo standing up from his seat. 

“What are you doing here?”

It makes you suddenly shy, standing in front of all these guys that you suppose are his friends? There’s quite a lot of them all together at one table...

Fidgeting with the ends of your hair again-sunwoo notices this time-you hesitantly speak. 

“I came here to eat. Because it’s a restaurant. What-um, what about you?”

Sunwoo gestures at the group. “I’m having dinner with my friends. You know Eric, he’s my roommate.”

Nodding slowly, you just wish to get away, having no idea what happened to your waiter.

And then Eric has to make your night a lot more- let’s just say, stimulating.

“Wait! You can join us at our table!” Eric grins. “It’ll be nice to know who’s been stealing sunwoo away from us.”

Your eye twitches. Who what now?

And the other guys around seem to think the same thought, immediately asking nearby servers for an extra chair. 

You don’t move. This could be your death wish for all you know.

And still, you end up sitting squished between Sunwoo and another friend named Newt? New? Who cares.

Half the boys launch an investigation, questioning you with ‘how did you manage to get sunwoo’s attention?’, ‘how did you manage to seduce him?’ 

Truly an exciting night. 

“Guys, for the last time, stop interrogating the shit out of y/n.” 

It quickly becomes stuffy, being wedged between twelve boys sharing one small table. How do they do it? Getting up, you mutter an excuse, something along the lines of ‘I need to use the restroom’ and escape the damned table.

Once you’re out of ear's reach, Kevin makes his move, wiggling his eyebrows at sunwoo.

“So..... you and y/n now? What happened to your other crush?”

He rolls his eyes, sipping on his drink. “Like I said, we’ve got nothing going on. I don’t like them like that.”

Eric snorts. “Nah, you like her.” 

Sunwoo raises a fist threateningly at him, but Haknyeon’s pat on his shoulder stops him. “I’m happy for you. It’s been so long, everyone’s glad to see you finally moved on.” 

He isn’t really sure what to say back. Luckily you return to squeeze between everyone, making the conversation change to a more appropriate topic.

You notice sunwoo’s thoughtful expression. “What’s up?”

“Uh, it’s nothing..” A sudden ringing from his pocket catches your attention. 

“Oh, sorry guys. My mom’s calling. Gimme a sec.” 

Your eyes follow sunwoo as he steps outside for who knows how long. 

“Y/n?” 

Your head whips back to the group. 

“Yes?”

You think Jacob’s the one who called your name. “Thank you.”

 “For what?”  You frown.

“Being there for Sunwoo, of course. I’m guessing you probably heard about the girl he used to crush on for ages. She was really important to him, probably still is.”

“Actually, I don’t know much about their past together, ” you reply, eyes focusing on the exit door where sunwoo left through. 

Jacob sighs, clearing his throat. “It’s a long story. Sunwoo used to be a bad student in high school.”

You aren’t surprised, gesturing for him to continue.

“Skipped school, failed tests, got in a lot of fights. But it was all for his mom. She was sick, and sunwoo was out doing jobs to make money and support the family. His dad's been gone for a while...”

You stay silent. 

“But she was the one who helped him out of it, changed him. That’s how you met the Sunwoo we know today. Even if it was only friendly intentions, I think that was why Sunwoo was so stuck on her. Except when she started dating this other guy, I don’t know why he stayed by her side without making a move for so long.”

There’s a brief moment for everything to sink in.

“He’s scared,” you speak up. Jacob watches you with raised eyebrows.  

“He’s scared that she’ll reject him, and he would lose her as a friend.” 

Jacob laughs, causing you to tilt your head in confusion. 

“But not with you, y/n. You’re special. He seems so different around you. Sunwoo’s liked the same girl for so long, he probably didn’t know how to act around a new person he found interest in -especially one like you who compliments him so well.”

You choke. “Compliment him??” No way.

He nods eagerly, “I’ve never seen sunwoo so-“

“Never seen me so what?” 

Your head jerks toward the sound of said person’s voice. 

“Never seen you so drunk,” you retort. 

Sunwoo squints down at you, keeping a mental picture of your innocent stare looking back up at him in his mind. 

While everyone orders, you whisper to sunwoo. 

“Are you gonna steal my order this time too?”

He recoils before shooting a glare back. 

“No,” he says indignantly, “I’m getting something way better than yours. And if yours is good, then I’ll just steal some.”

You raise your fork up as a threat. “If you even look anywhere near my plate, I’ll make sure you won’t get to eat.”

As you two engage in a fierce staring contest, the rest of the boys watch on, sharing knowing looks. 

ꔫ 

The food’s good. No wonder they like to come here. 

Your attention is taken away by a gasping Sunwoo, mouth open you think in an attempt to cool his burning tongue. 

You glance at him, unimpressed. “You have food all over your mouth.”

“What?” he rasps back, huffing and puffing air.

“Idiot,” you reply, throwing a napkin at his face. 

“Ow,” he whines.

 “I think it stabbed me in the eye.”

“The napkin???” 

“Yes, you threw it into my face! It totally cut my eyeball.”

You scoff, turning towards him. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m serious! It hurts,” sunwoo complains, “can you look at it?”

You’re sure it’s perfectly fine because he’s holding his eye wide open right in front of you, but just to appease him, you lean in closer to examine his face. 

Squinting, you mutter, “Seriously sunwoo, I don’t see any sort of-“

Click!  

Both of your heads whip toward the sound. Changmin? giggles evilly, eyes focused on the screen in front of him. 

Sunwoo groans again, but he’s cut off. 

“Yah, don’t get all worked up. I’ll send the picture to you later, no need to worry!”

You’ve given up at this point. Sunwoo has too.

When the torturous dinner finally comes to an end, you were exhausted. This was supposed to be some enjoyable alone time at a great restaurant with great food and definitely no sunwoo, but life doesn’t like you.

At least his friends were super cool. You found yourself getting along quite nicely with them.  

And you also got more insight into sunwoo’s past. It was odd to hear about his past self. It makes you think about your life, what you’ve been doing all this time... 

“I can take you home,” sunwoo offers. 

“No-!” You quickly respond. “Sorry, I’ve had enough of people. Not you specifically, just people in general.”

He shrugs, “whatever suits you.” 

And you’re left alone with thoughts. And unknown feelings. About him.

ꔫ 

Melon or banana?

The grocery mart just has too many flavors to choose from, and you don’t have enough freezer space to buy it all.

Humming happily, you place your selected choice into the cart, continuing forward.

When you turn, a mother and son come into view, their back’s facing you as they shop together. It makes you smile at the cute view. 

As you stroll past them, you freeze. No way. That voice? 

Right as you stopped, the lady turns her shopping cart absentmindedly, causing it to knock into yours with a clang. 

“Oh my! Goodness, I’m sorry about that.” 

“Mom! Watch where you’re pushing the cart. You know what, just let me do it. It’s getting heavy.”

He turns to you. “Sorry again... you!??!”

You awkwardly turn towards them, failing to muster a smile.

His mom looks between the two of you before a delighted smile appears.

“You know her, sunwoo?” He nods reluctantly.

“And she’s a girl???” she says suggestively to sunwoo, elbowing him hard in the ribs. It takes everything in him to hold back a wince- still not having completely recovered yet from the last time you saw him.

She eagerly holds her hand out to you, and you quickly take it, bowing.  

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Kim.”

She guffaws in the middle of the aisle, one arm on Sunwoo to balance herself in the middle of her excitement. 

“What a kind and polite girl!” 

“Sunwoo,” she mutters, “you found an even better one!” 

He can’t even muster any sort of response. 

Sunwoo tries, he really does, taking her arm and forcing her to continue on, whispering fiercely to just leave!!

But his mom is a fighter -a good one. She yanks his grip off her, threatening him harshly before turning back to you with a lovely smile. 

The duality though, you think.

His mom suddenly gasps, making sunwoo brace himself, sighing ‘what now...’

“Y/n! Is it okay if I call you that?” You nod. 

Clapping her hands together, she says excitedly, “You should come over to our house!”

Sunwoo protests at the speed of light, but she shuts him up with a hand. 

“We were buying ingredients to cook dinner tonight! You should join us!! That is if you’re not busy??” Her eyes sparkle.

From behind her, you watch a frantic sunwoo do everything in his power for you to decline. 

Unfortunately for him, you have absolutely no plans for tonight.

“I would love to, Mrs. Kim.”

Sunwoo thinks his soul has officially left his body. 

His mom laughs bashfully, taking your hand and going off together deeper into the store,  deeper into sunwoo’s pain.

It was pretty early on you decided that you really liked his mother. Or, auntie, as she forced you to call her. 

And it’s quite obvious she loves you too, much to sunwoo’s shock and disgust.

ꔫ 

She opens the door to their apartment, ushering you in. 

It’s quite a nice place, a small and lovely house. 

“Your home is really beautiful, Mrs- um-auntie.”

Sunwoo’s mother laughs again, placing a hand over her chest. 

“You are such a sweet girl. Sunwoo will show you around while I prepare the food!” she finishes with a glare in his direction.

Perking up, you glance around. “Where’s your room?” 

Sunwoo gives up, sighing and beckoning you to follow him. He guides you down a hallway, past two doors to the end where a final door stands -you’re guessing that it opens to his room.

“What are the other two doors?”

“Bathroom, and my sister's room.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You have a sister?” He nods, “younger.”

Opening the door, you’re shocked at the neatness. It’s a nice and simple room. 

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting such a clean room.” 

He snorts in response, slumping down into a chair. 

Finally alone, you start your attack. “Troublemaker?”

He grunts. 

“How come I didn’t know you weren’t such a troublemaker with your mother? You literally turn into a softie next to her.”

“Whatever. I’m not always the best person, but I’m a good son,” he snaps.

You may be teasing him, but on the inside, you soften at how well he takes care of his mother. He must’ve had a hard time working for the family since he was young... 

You glance around before your eyes focus on a giant bag of.... juices??

“What,” you start, “What are these?”

“Oh,” he looks in your direction. “Vitamin juices. It has a lot of health benefits.”

You’re suddenly quiet, your voice low. “Kim sunwoo.... collects and hoards juice?”

He moves, uncomfortable at the sudden change of tone. “Yeah??”

And that for some reason that causes you to lose it. A hand clamped over your mouth, you almost can’t even support your own legs as giggles erupt from your body.

Sunwoo thinks it lasts for a much longer time than it should have.

“Why is it so funny to you that I like to drink juice -healthy juice that’s good for you?”

You have no idea, instead just collapsing onto his bed and rolling over in a fit of laughter. 

The only thing he can do is unknowingly smile at your shaking figure and flushed face. 

It takes a couple more minutes before you finally calm down, letting out a satisfied smile.

“Your bed’s comfy.”

“Yeah, so maybe you should get off it before it becomes uncomfy.” 

You ignore him, does that sentence even make sense?

The photos on his wall catch your attention. You suddenly sit up, carefully taking one off that caught your eye. 

“Is this you and her? Wait- that’s what you looked like in high school?”

 You save a mental image of young sunwoo in your head. This could be great blackmail...

He hisses at your comments, reaching over and trying to snatch it away. 

“Stop looking at my old photos-!”

Laughing delightedly, you avoid his grabby hands, holding the photo as far away as you can.

Sunwoo growls, reaching as far over you as he can to take it back.

“Aha!” he yells triumphantly once his fingers make contact with the picture. But sadly for him, he loses his balance over the bed and falls. 

On top of you. 

His hand fortunately catches him, planting softly right by your head. 

The sound of your laughter is cut short, and you can only stare up at him. 

Your breath hitches at the close proximity, noticing his legs on either side of yours. Did your heart just skip a beat? 

And the fact that he’s just staring down at you so you’re trapped doesn’t help at all. 

“Hey, sunwoo! Mom wants you to-“ 

Both of your heads turn toward the voice. 

“.... is that Y/n?”

“Sis?”

Sunwoo’s sister blinks, staring at the position you both were in. “Well then.” She simply closes the door behind her. 

“Wait no. It’s not-“ you give up in the middle of speaking. 

There’s an awkward silence-you could almost hear the crows cawing in the background.

“So are you gonna get off me or?”

Sunwoo snaps out of his daze. “Right, yeah, sorry.” He wordlessly moves off to sit next to you on the bed.

Coughing, you stare at the ground. “So she’s your-?”

“Yep. My little sister.”

“But,” he frowns, “how did she know your name?”

“Because we know each other?”

He glances at you. “Huh? How?”

You only shrug suspiciously. “Secret. But I didn’t know you two were related...”

Sunwoo makes a face, confused, but the noise outside gets your attention.

“Dinner’s ready!! Come eat!!” his mother’s shout echoes through the walls.

ꔫ 

“You’re so lucky to have a mother to cook such good food for you.”

Sunwoo looks down at his bowl. “Yeah, I know.”

His mother smiles at you, asking curiously, “what about your family, y/n?”

You swallow before speaking. “Oh, they live farther away. I came here to dance, so I don’t really see them often.” 

She gasps. “You poor thing, living out here all alone. Come over whenever you want, okay?”

Sunwoo opens his mouth to respond but decides to just close it. You smile and nod gratefully, feeling a lot more at ease. 

When you finally finish eating, sunwoo’s eager to guide you out -even though you disregard his attempts so you can charm his mother even more.

The number of times during the dinner his mother has hinted at the two of you being a couple and the number of times sunwoo has denied that there was anything at all were too many to count.

And then he eventually gets you to leave, shutting the door close once and for all. 

Sunwoo almost collapses, making exaggerated sounds of exhaustion and relief.

He sprawls out on the living room floor, completely tuning out his mother’s complaints about his manners and whatnot.

But as he lays there, he can only think about his heart. Why does it do that? Whenever you look at his mom with such tender eyes. When you’re acting so kind and respectful, but still being yourself. Eyes crinkling when someone says anything remotely funny.

Why does his heart stir so much when you spare even a glance at him?

ꔫ 

After that, you get extremely busy. Upcoming dance competitions and events take up most of your day. 

That leads to barely any rest for you since you’re constantly in and out of the studio, practicing, practicing, and more practicing.

You’d be lucky to even get 4 hours of sleep a day. 

But the one night you can finally close your eyes for maybe a solid 5 or 6 hours, (you were so excited you even leaped into bed) your fucking phone rings.

You want to kill whoever is calling you at a deathly time. It was only 1 am, but your sleep is too precious. 

At first, you ignore it. But it rings a freakin second time, and now you’re unable to fall back asleep. 

Biting your lip harshly, you angrily grab your phone, turning it on to see-

three missed calls from sunwoo?

It’s been a while since you’ve seen him, so you have no idea why he’s calling you and wasting your hard-earned rest. 

The phone rings again. Your brain can barely function, but you manage to accept the call. 

“What the fuck do you want? My beauty sleep-“

“Are... are you busy?” His voice is quiet, maybe too quiet.

You want to slap him through the phone but alternately just let out a strained huff. “Does it seem-“ but you don’t finish. 

Something didn’t seem right. You’re fully awake now.

“Sunwoo? What’s going on?”

There’s a pause before his voice comes through again. 

“Can I see you? I’m actually out near your place.”

It takes five minutes for you to get out of bed, throw on a jacket and close the door behind you.

Head whipping from side to side, you search around.

Your palms start to get sweaty even though the night was frigid, cold wind blowing past.

Where is he? His voice....felt off. You could sense it even through the phone.

Briskly walking, you keep looking until you spot him.

Well, Sunwoo was right. He was sitting down alone at a park about 5 minutes away from your apartment. 

 Your anger rises again as you approach him.

“What the fuck is going on?“

Your feet slow as your voice lowers to a whisper. 

“What....what’s wrong?”

You rush over to him, forgetting everything and cupping his face in your warm hands. 

Sunwoo looks at you, his red and watery eyes void of any emotion. How long has he been out here?

“Kim sunwoo, you-“

He cuts you off.

“Why does she not like me back?” His voice is soft, shaky. It’s like he doesn’t have enough strength to say it any louder.

Your breath gets caught in your throat, and you swallow. Your mind races, seeking any words to make a sentence, just to say anything.

“Is there something wrong with me? Did I-can she just look at me for once?” his voice cracks. You watch as the tears slowly trickle down his cold cheeks. 

His voice lowers to a whisper. “I’ve been her friend for so long, and she never noticed me and all the things I did for her. I waited, and it was too late. Y/n, I tried. I really tried.”

You can hear the cracking of his heart.

When the sobs start, you only hold your breath and wrap your arms around him. You let sunwoo cry into you, even when you so desperately want to cry for him too. 

Shutting your eyes, you rub his back comfortingly. 

It feels like it’s been an hour. Or a couple, who knows. 

And when the cries ultimately slow, you slowly move back, cautiously glancing at him. His swollen eyes and red nose cause your chest to tighten.

You speak in a hushed tone, almost afraid to speak louder as if it’ll make him break. 

 “How do you feel?”

He laughs a small but painful sound. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have called you out at this time. I can tell you’re exhausted. Just leave and get some sleep.”

You’re frustrated. You don’t want to be, especially not right now, but the feeling crawls all over you, uncomfortable and itchy.

You stand up, staring into him with fierce eyes. “Stop worrying about me. Stop worrying about others. You always look out for everyone else but yourself. Can’t you see that you’re hurting, and I just want to help?” 

You regret saying that almost immediately, sinking down onto the bench next to him. The only sound is his occasional sniffles and coughs.

Sunwoo’s shocked. But he tries not to show it. 

Instead, he stares at the trees. The streetlights. And eventually you.

“You’re right.” You jump slightly when he speaks up.

“As usual,” he chuckles.

“So thank you for coming here. I don’t know what was going on with me. I think I was just going through a lot and needed to let it out.”

You’re still not looking at him, but your hand inches over slowly to cover his. Surprisingly, he accepts the warmth. 

No words are exchanged, but it’s enough. A silent apology. A silent sense of comfort.

A bout of laughter across the street gets your attention. It’s just an annoying couple, you think.

But... it’s not just any annoying couple. No. Are you serious?

Their voices fly over the wind, going in one ear and out the other. “Wait a second. Is that sunwoo over there?” 

He tenses, eyes frantically looking at you. You immediately understand. 

It’s happened many times to you- how embarrassing and humiliating it is to get caught crying. Even when crying is supposed to be a normal and natural thing. And then comes the hilarious made-up explanation behind the whole waterworks. 

You can’t imagine how it must be for sunwoo.

The sound of their footsteps come closer.

You scoot closer to him. 

Thump. 

Your hand slowly reaches out. He doesn’t move, almost as if entranced by your actions.

Thump. 

Sunwoo watches, confused as your hand guides his head, burying him into your shoulder and efficiently blocking anyone’s view of his crying face. 

Thump.

“Pretend to be asleep,” you murmur. 

He closes his eyes, inhaling your familiar scent. 

“Oh! It’s you again!”

You smile awkwardly at sunwoo’s crush, even though you kinda want to scream at her for causing him so much pain.

Then your gaze shifts to him. You’ve never seen her ex before, only hearing stories from sunwoo. So this is him...

“Hello. I’m afraid we’ve never met before? You seem close to sunwoo.”

“Oh, my name is y/l/n y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you. Why... why are you two out so late?” 

They exchange looks. “We were just hanging out, and lost track of time, haha. You know...” she laughs. “And you two? I see he’s asleep. Sunwoo was always sleeping in class..”

You feel him just barely move. 

You grimace and give a small smile. “Ha, sunwoo here was drinking and fell asleep. That reminds me, I should probably get him home. It’s late, so you guys should go too.” 

You don’t know, but they see the loving way you look down at sunwoo, pretending to shake him awake to leave. 

When he only groans in response, you curse him. What a sneaky little..... 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you can barely haul sunwoo up, placing his arm around your shoulder. Didn’t know you were so good at acting, troublemaker.

They move to help you, but you quickly and aggressively protest, groaning as you weakly step forward. 

“Well,” you barely get out, “it was nice to meet you. Maybe we can meet again under better circumstances,” you wheeze.

Once you make sure they’re out of sight, you drop him onto the ground, gasping for air.

“You couldn’t have even helped a little?”

His still red eyes and small pout make you soften. 

“Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

His voice is quiet but still teasing. “Why? So you can find out where I live, stalker?”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. I’m going then.”

“Wait.” He grabs your wrist. “That was a joke. I want you to take me.”

You fight against the ends of your mouth that want to curl up. “Fine... only since I don’t want you running into them again.”

When he randomly takes your hand, enlacing your fingers together, you keep silent. It stays like the for the whole walk, peaceful and tranquil. It makes you think of that time he offered to walk you home from that creepy date. How different it seems now...

Once you arrive, he lets go of your hand normally like he always does it or something. But you still miss the snugness.

“How you’re gonna get home?”

“Walk. Why? You know I can take care of myself.”

He smiles, the first one you’ve seen today. “Yeah. I know.”

Before you leave, you inhale. “Cheer up, alright? It makes me feel weird, seeing you so down. Get some sleep, trouble.” 

After making sure he gets in safely, welcomed by a worried eric, you start the cold and lonely journey home.

ꔫ

Once you finally arrive, truly exhausted from the night’s(day’s?) events, you lay in bed and contemplate. 

Why does your heart hurt so much for him? 

Why do you even care?

You take out your phone, opening it to sunwoo’s profile photo, the cute pout on his face along with your scarf blindfolding his eyes makes you smile. 

It takes a little bit of thinking-staring at the ceiling and searching your brain for possibly hours, but the answer finally appears. Even when you don’t want it, trying to push the thought out and bury it so deep you can’t breathe, it echoes in your brain, loud and clear. 

How? 

No, this isn’t possible. He-I’ve known him for less than a year. 

I... I can’t.  

You feel suffocated underneath the blankets, doing anything to stop the flow of your thoughts, feelings.

The one thing you can do is force yourself to pass out, to escape the hurricane of emotions.

ꔫ

And just like that, you disappear from sunwoo’s life. For a couple of weeks. It was, sadly to report, very much boring and bleak. 

It was harder than you realized. To shut someone out. Someone like him. 

Luckily, your upcoming dance performances took most of your day, so the only time he was able to sneak into your mind was during the dark of nights and the peak of dawn.

First, it was ignoring the messages. You wondered how people could simply ghost someone else so easily. 

But you had to. Because you knew he liked someone else. Because you shouldn’t be like this, whatever this is, with him. 

You did it for yourself. And him. Even when everything about him was confusing. 

Kim sunwoo was a troublemaker. One you met months ago with a strong one-sided crush. And you wanted to help him win her heart. 

Now, you couldn’t even look at Sunwoo. You didn’t want to, not wishing to know what would happen if you looked into his eyes. What words would spill out of your mouth, words you didn’t even know the truth to yet.

Second was avoiding him at any cost. Especially when he came to your dance studio, obviously looking for you and only you. (it was a whole mess sneaking out from his sight)

And once again, fate loves to mix things up and make you spot sunwoo with his crush down the street. Holding hands. 

You go home with mixed emotions and a missing appetite. 

The sad thing is, you can’t tell if you miss him or not. 

ꔫ 

One evening, just as colorless as the nights before, you go out for a walk. 

You always went later than most to avoid human contact with others. But fate plays a trick again, so you’re not alone this time.

“I found you.”

Your feet come to a halt. Or maybe it wasn’t fate this time... 

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

“I’m not avoiding you, sunwoo.” Funny how you suddenly have the urge to run away after saying that.

He looks tired, stressed-like he can’t find the answer to any of his homework questions (but you know he probably didn’t even do his homework in school).

“So ignoring my calls and texts aren’t considered avoiding? And running away whenever you see me in person too?” 

You mess with the ends of your hair. “Why were you looking for me?”

Sunwoo sighs and starts walking, you know he’s waiting for you to join. Hesitating, you finally move to his side, deciding to stare at the ground -your feet, his feet, anywhere but him. 

“I came to tell you something,” He starts.

You gulp, nodding for him to say it.

“I confessed to my crush. She was... really surprised. But I still asked her to give me a chance, to please think of me as a guy and not a friend. Just three dates with me. And then she could see how she felt at the end.”

Why do you suddenly want to vomit?

You find looking anywhere but at sunwoo or near his direction comfortable. The amount of effort it took for you to find your voice was funny. “Oh. Good for you.” (unlike your tone that doesn’t sound too pleased)

“...How was it? Did she decide to return your feelings back in the end?”

“No. We never finished all three. After the second, I realized it was a waste of time and quit.” 

He stops walking, making you stop as well.

This man messes with your mind too much. You snort. “What are you talking about? How could it be a waste of time when you finally got to go on a true date with your crush since high school, sunwoo?”

“Because I kept thinking of something else. Someone else.”

You’re extremely confused, not able to comprehend anything. Sunwoo suddenly looks at you with such conviction you almost take a step back.

“Is... there something wrong?”

“I wished it was you, instead. Instead of her next to me. Even on the very first date, I was only thinking of you.”

Your brain -it just doesn’t work anymore. You’re looking at him, standing in front of you -but somehow you still can’t see him. What? 

“I like you, y/n.”

Your mind is reeling, adrenaline rising. 

No, he’s confessing to the wrong person. 

Is this a good or bad feeling? I don’t know...

Sunwoo doesn’t notice your reaction, too shy and focusing on the trees instead of your face. 

“I realized it when we stopped meeting. That I missed your company .”

Your voice is quiet. “Suddenly?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Yes, but you’ve always been in my head. I just didn’t want to admit it because she was in there for so long. I didn’t want to give her up, and I didn’t want to move on. But then I met you, and suddenly I wasn’t missing her so much.” 

You swallow, preparing to say something in return, but sunwoo quickly speaks up a second time, hand on his chest.

“But-! Uh, you’re not a replacement for her. It’s different. How I feel. I really do like you.” 

Sunwoo doesn’t know how you snuck your way into his heart, letting him breathe fresh air and become anew. He’s only ever liked one person for so long -kept space for only her deep in his heart, that’s why he couldn’t figure out it was you who stole it.

He repeats the confession, this time sounding more confident and assertive.

When you don’t say anything back, he begins panicking. Was I wrong? Did I only assume-? 

“Sunwoo,” you start, looking at him uncertainly.

“Don’t get me wrong, I think I could like you too..” 

Sunwoo doesn’t get his hopes up just yet, waiting for the catch. There’s always one. 

“But maybe we should wait. Give each other a little space and time apart, I mean. For you to completely get over her and for me to figure and sort everything out. I think that would be best for us,” you finish in a whisper.

You’re scared. At his reaction -his current thoughts. 

“Okay.”

You quickly look up at him, startled. 

There’s a strange easy and light smile on his face.  “I get it. I’ll wait for you. I’ve done a lot of waiting, so I can do it for a little more.”

Your heart almost breaks when he says that, but you know it’s for the best. 

Just give me some time, please. 

ꔫ 

When you said a little space, you didn’t mean two days. 

And you sure weren’t expecting him to show up at your dance studio. 

“Sunwoo? What are you doing here???”

“Ah, well, l thought we could just walk home together. I-I’ll walk you home, I mean..”

Your whole body aches, and you feel a tiny bit annoyed, but you still can’t find it in your heart to reject him. And so sunwoo takes you back home.

After that day, he would go almost everytime to pick you up whenever you had dance practice. Sometimes you would go with him, and sometimes you wouldn’t. (but 98% of the time you couldn’t reject him). Maybe you felt a little bad, but sunwoo seemed so happy and excited whenever he saw you, you just couldn’t not go with him. 

You still had plenty of moments apart. Sunwoo would only ever walk you home and chat, the occasional grabbing food and drinks on the way back. (You didn’t consider them big enough to be dates-not yet, at least.)

Every time he would wait and stand in the waiting room, a bunch of the other dancers would be either fangirling over him or teasing you two whenever you came out to meet him. 

You totally did not feel that wave of jealousy after seeing all of the staring girls. But you were very satisfied to see the looks on their faces when sunwoo would ignore them and go straight to you.

And you won’t lie -it felt nice. To have sunwoo waiting for you every day, even though you could reject him at any moment.

You would never.

Even though technically you two were on a ‘break that wasn’t really considered a break’, your time alone was mostly taken up by the upcoming dance show.

It was just a little showcase. But of course, sunwoo insisted on going.

You were the most nervous you’ve ever been -the most nervous sunwoo had ever seen you. It had been a while since you last performed, and for some reason, you felt so different preparing this time around, which is why you basically lived at the studio for a month. 

The day of the show finally arrives, and you want to pull your own hair out. Sunwoo was only able to see you briefly before you were dragged along to rehearsals, and in that short time, he shot you a thumbs up, and you sent a small, extremely nervous smile back.

When your name was called, and you walked onto the stage, heart almost bursting out of your chest, somehow you were able to find sunwoo in the crowd. 

It lasted for a second, but you were able to capture his excited but still reassuring eyes cheering you on, the clapping and yells coming from his mouth. 

And that’s how you were able to perform beautifully, dance to the greatest extent. The feeling of fulfillment when you finished along with the immediate applause and sunwoo’s loud hollers sparked something inside. 

That could be why you didn’t care. Didn’t care about jumping off the stage and running over to sunwoo, the shocked look on his face making you laugh.

But he still holds his arms out, and you basically fly into them. 

Sunwoo lets out a grunt, holding you tight as you laugh and bury your face into his shoulder.

He pulls back, eyes sparkling. “You did amazing. I’m so proud of you.”

You're unable to form any words back, only able to stare into his eyes. 

His face is a lot closer than you realized...

You can feel your heartrate rising again.

Sunwoo leans in, you think? and your eyes close even though you’re not sure what’s even going on. 

“Y/n!!! Great job!!” 

You snap out of your daze, turning around to see who it was. 

Sunwoo curses the random guy -he thinks it’s the director of the show or whatever. He doesn’t care at all for the person that rudely interrupted your moment together.

And when you follow the director after, totally distracted with the aftermath of the show and leaving sunwoo behind, he can only pout.

Maybe next time...

ꔫ

You finally got to sleep. Properly. The show left in the back of your head, set there as a significant memory to stay forever.

After you start getting back into the groove of normal dance practices, Sunwoo comes to pick you up as usual. 

But today was not a usual day.

“Sorry Sunwoo, I have someone to meet today. Maybe Thursday?”

You frown at his obviously fallen face. Hopping in front of him, you pout cutely.

“Don’t be sad, I’ll see you soon. And we can get food too!”

He stands there, frozen. 

Checking the time, you realize ‘shit-you’re gonna be late.’ 

“Bye, sunwoo. Don’t forget Thursday!!” You wave goodbye, running along. 

Sunwoo gives five minutes to compose himself. Even though he desperately wants to fall on the ground and roll in agony from what you did to his heart, he simply breathes in, out.

He’s for sure disappointed he isn’t able to walk you home, but after that cute act.... sunwoo thinks he can let it go. Only for today.

The mysterious place you were supposed to be at was a cafe. (a nice one with also great reviews online.) You run in, lighting up when you spot the person you invited out. 

“Hi! How have you been?”

You offer a small smile. “Doing well. And you? 

Sunwoo’s- well, you suppose former crush now- beams. “Good! What about sunwoo? I-uh, haven’t seen him recently.” The knowing look in her eye makes you nervously laugh. 

“He’s fine too. I didn’t tell him about our meeting today. Did you?”

“Oh, no- don’t worry. It’s a secret between us!”

You’re pleased, but the reason you asked to meet was not for small talk.

“Well, I’m not sure if you know the reason I asked you out here..”

She nods, waiting. 

“But basically, I knew about Sunwoo’s longtime crush on you. The funny thing is, I was actually trying to help him win you over... but that obviously did not happen.”

She bursts out laughing, and eventually, you join in too. 

“Wow, I’m sorry,” her tone turns more serious. 

“But yeah. I was... really shocked, to say the least. That he liked me. I honestly never thought of him like that, and I’m guessing you know about the dates that we went on then?”

You nod sheepishly.

“That was also really strange for me. It was just a lot, you know? And my ex also came back from overseas -you met him that one time. So there was just a lot of feelings going on all at once.”

She takes your hand, squeezing it gently.

“And even though I don’t like sunwoo that way, I’m glad that you’re here for him. I can tell you two really like each other. Even though it wasn’t your original intentions.”

Those words strangely comfort you. Like the chained truth you already knew was finally released.

“I don’t mean to pry,” you start, “but what’s up with you and your ex then? I saw you two were out and around together?”

You don’t fail to notice her reddening cheeks. “Ah, about that... He just came back so suddenly... and right as I got over him. but we’re spending more time together, and ugh, I don’t know.”

The smile on her face says otherwise. It makes you smile as well.

“I wish you luck, then.”

“And I wish you luck with sunwoo too!”

You weren’t expecting to gain a new friendship that day as well. 

ꔫ 

Now that everything seemed cleared and out of the air, you had more time. 

To think. Reflect. Focus on what your ideal life is like. 

Is it one that includes Kim Sunwoo? Waking up next to him, having the ability to make fun of him 24/7, being able to press your lips onto his whenever, wherever? 

And when the answer finally comes, it’s another sunny afternoon with Sunwoo waiting for you after class.

The day was nice. And you feel nice too, strangely happy. He notices.

“What’s got you looking so upbeat for? Is it seeing my face?”

“No,” you happily respond, laughing at his offended face. 

“It’s nothing. Let’s just go to the park.”

He’s confused but smiling as well. 

“Okay. How was your day?”

You chat along the walk to the park.

“-did I make you wait long? What time did you get to the studio?”

He frowns, taking the phone out of his pocket to check the time. Your legs stop working when you see what his lock screen is.

“Sunwoo?”

He grunts. 

“Is your lock screen... a picture of us?”

He fiddles with the back of his neck. “Oh, yeah. Changmin sent that picture of us at the restaurant to me, and then I-uh changed it.”

You try, oh so hard, to fight that bashful smile attempting to break free on your face. Thank goodness sunwoo was walking a few steps ahead.

ꔫ 

When you arrive, sunwoo finds a bench, and you plop down next to him with a content sigh, staring at the view. 

You purposely picked this park because of its location, higher up so it overlooked the city. It was peaceful and beautiful, above all the commotion.

“You know Sunwoo, I think I found what I want to do.”

He looks at you, curious. “Which is?”

“I want to dance.”

“But you already do that?”

“Yes, you’re right. But I also want to teach others too. Like a dance instructor. That day when I taught you that routine was fun.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t fun because you were with me?” You flick him playfully.

“What about you then? Did you ever meet up with your ex-crush after that whole mess?”

Sunwoo scoffs, looking down. “It wasn’t a mess...” he mumbles.

“No... it was,” you wish to say, but your lips remain zipped.

“But yeah. We made up. I’m glad that she’s still my friend and our relationship is better now. To be honest, I think I’ve known since the beginning that she never liked me that way. I just was too scared and prideful to admit it.” 

“Well, isn’t that a good thing?” His eyebrow quirks up at your words.

“What do you mean?”

“That you never stopped liking her.”

He looks at you, truly confused. 

“Because you got to meet me.“

You expect him to retort back with something mocking back but he actually looks down at his shoes, smiling. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You lean back on the bench, relaxed and peaceful. 

“Anyways, what about you? Did you find a passion or dream you wanna pursue?”

“Actually, I did.”

You sit up. “Really?”

He suddenly looks shy. “I kinda want to get into producing. Music.”

You look at him, interested. 

“After we met up at your dance place, it made me think of my old trainee life.”

You cut him off. “Wait- I never asked why you quit being a trainee.”

“Oh. I just fell out of it. Being an idol just didn’t seem like it was for me anymore. But after seeing you reach your dancing dreams, it made me inspired. I started writing lyrics and rapping again for fun. Then I realized I really liked it. And producing music was always a hobby,” Sunwoo continues to ramble on.

 You listen with a soft smile. And he eventually notices,  stopping his tangent. “What is it?” 

Smile growing, you tilt your head to the side and state, “I support you. You should totally do it.”

Sunwoo feels warmth bloom in his chest. Another reason for him to fall in love with you even more. Yes, he was sure that he loved you. But sunwoo didn’t want to say it just yet. 

He was waiting for you.

“Thank you, y/n.”

You nod, suddenly picking at your fingers distractedly.

“But I don’t know... I think right now I just really want to go out with you, Kim Sunwoo.” 

He chokes on air, looking around almost as if to make sure this is actually reality before taking your hand. “What-no. Are you serious?” 

“Yes. Let’s go on a date.” 

You say it so casually he thinks he must’ve misheard you or whatever. But he didn’t. 

For you, it just happened. The night before you were laying in bed, and he just popped up in your dream. A wonderful dream that was like your ideal life came true-even when sunwoo appeared you didn’t question it one bit. A dream where you were able to remember everything fully when you woke up this morning. 

And so it was decided. It had to be it, right? You definitely liked the troublemaker Kim Sunwoo.

When you look away at some point, he pumps a fist in the air, elated and barely restraining a yell of happiness.

You turn around. “Are you alright?”

He quickly straightens up. “Yep. Good. Just fine. Doing great, actually.”

You smile, eyes crinkling. “Okay.”

But you couldn’t suppress the feeling,

-of hunger. Today was a long practice, and you needed energy. 

“Sunwoo, let’s go. I’m hungry.” You take his arm, trying to pull him up.

He easily gets up, adjusting his hold on your hand. But you don’t mind. 

This has to be a dream right? Sunwoo thinks. The happiness he feels from seeing you-a once stranger that he poured all his feelings out to-turn into someone he trusts with his life, his heart.

Walking down the sidewalk together, you speak up. 

“Did I make you wait too long?”

He scoffs, free hand raised to his face in a supposedly cool expression. “Nah, if it’s you, I could wait forever.” 

You cringe, letting go of his hand in an instant. 

He almost immediately protests. 

You wanted to shut him up. There was one way that you believed would be very effective. It just took a little preparation.

Gathering the confidence, you kiss him on the cheek, mid-protest. 

Sunwoo’s surprised expression makes you laugh. But that laugh is cut short when he suddenly pulls you closer, your noses barely touching. 

You can feel your heart pounding- he can probably feel your heart pounding. But it’s okay because his is too.

When he leans in the tiniest amount, your eyes flutter shut, holding your breath and waiting.

Until he starts chuckling softy, and you peek an eye open.

It makes your face heat, the way he stares at you with such adoration, and possibly love?

You huff, turning and beginning to walk away. “If you’re not gonna kiss me, then just leave.”

You hear his protests but also his laughter that echo through your body. 

 “I didn’t know you were such a baby,” he comments, snatching your hand and spinning you around once more so his arms can encompass you. 

His eyes bore into yours, occasionally flicking down to your mouth and back up again. 

Maybe you were just a little impatient, so you lean in, just barely hovering over his lips.

His grip around you tightens. Who’s the baby now?

And then he finally closes the gap, letting his soft lips glide over yours. 

It’s just... Sunwoo. All you can see, even with your eyes closed, is him. All you can feel is him. Everything is sunwoo. 

And you think you love it.

When you break the kiss reluctantly a couple of seconds later, sunwoo’s eyes flick open, staring back at you indignantly.

“What? Let’s go eat. I said I was hungry.” 

“Was this not enough?” he grins cheekily. 

You slowly lean into his ear, whispering, “No, it wasn’t.”

You grin at the way he shivers, your warm breath tickling his ear. 

“That’s why we’re going to get food now. And you’re paying as usual,” you finish, basking in the fact that Sunwoo is rendered speechless. 

You like how your hand easily finds his, fitting perfectly together as you drag him along. 

Wherever you go, I’ll go with you. 

Wherever you fall, I’ll pick you back up.

Wherever you can’t, I’ll love you instead. 

taglist: @elcie-chxn  @00seonu  @mochinyu​

a/n: if you made it to the end of this, i sincerely applaud and thank you :) after the end of that drama i couldn’t stop my feelings and had to write this but then it kinda turned into a whole fic 🤡

also can’t believe i wrote this much-sunwoo constantly in the brain 😶.

[the-scandalorian]

Tempered Glass: Chapter 5

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 6.4k Warnings: canon rewrite, slow burn, canon-typical violence, sexual harassment/unwanted sexual advances, cursing, sexy thoughts, pining Summary: When you’re caught in a firefight with a bounty hunter and the Crest is damaged, you and Mando stop on Tatooine to find a job. A shadow of your past catches up with you. Notes: Sorry not sorry for making Toro even worse than he already is. Taglist: @bbdoyouloveme @beskarhearts @dincrypt @dunderr @honey-hi​ @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @mbpokemonrulez @red-leaders @speakerforthedead0 @theflightytemptressadventure @zoemariefit

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Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After leaving Sorgan, you and Mando chose a second “backwater skughole” several systems away as your next destination. Mando set the nav, and the automated voice of the computer informed you that the trip would take almost five days. The thought of spending five days confined to the Crest was not appealing, but you knew it was important to keep your stops as remote as possible.

Time was a functionally meaningless concept in space anyways, hours and days bleeding together. Without the usual environmental cues to govern your circadian rhythm, you had to rely on a schedule to maintain some semblance of normalcy, keeping alarms on your chrono to remind you when to sleep. Mando, on the other hand, seemed so completely accustomed to this slippery sense of time that he needed no reminders; this was natural for him.

If you hadn’t already seen some of his skin, you might actually think he was a droid. Aside from his hard metal exterior, the most compelling piece of evidence to support this theory was the fact that he didn’t seem to need much sleep. He disappeared into his bunk for maybe four or five hours a day, plus twenty minutes here or there to eat. You suspected he settled into a half-asleep, half-awake hibernation mode when he sat in the pilot’s seat for hours at a time without moving. Once, he jolted so violently when the child sneezed that he had to catch him by his collar before he slid off his knee.

His relationship with the kid, though, was achingly, heartwarmingly, vulnerably human.

You lived for the glimpses of their bond—the way Mando would remove a single pauldron so he could rest the child’s head on his shoulder to lull him to sleep, whispering to him as he swayed gently. When the kid was restless and energetic from being cooped up, Mando would roll the little silver sphere from a control in the cockpit along the floor of the hull for him to chase. For a generally impatient man, his patience for the child seemed almost inexhaustible; he would hold him and pat his back endlessly while he wailed his way through particularly bad tantrums.

You collected these precious moments and held them close to your heart, unwittingly creating a catalog of comfort that you’d return to later. They weren’t necessarily your moments to claim, as a visitor in their world, but you treasured them nonetheless.

***

You were out of colored contacts. You could only wear each pair continuously for a month, and your current pair was due to be switched out any day. The morning you threw them away, Mando stopped you as you passed him in the hull with a light hand on your shoulder. The kid was tucked in his other arm.

He stepped in front of you, just inches away from your chest, tilting his helmet down to look at you. You looked up to meet his gaze, puzzled. He cocked his head, a silent question.

Not for the first time, you wondered about the color of his eyes.

You held your breath, unsure of what he was going to do.

He said nothing but brought his gloved hand up to your face, running this thumb along the crest of your cheek—so lightly, the leather was barely touching you. The tender gesture brought goose bumps to your arms, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

The kid reached up a tiny hand toward your other cheek, mirroring Mando’s movement. He babbled quietly, breaking the tense silence. You flicked your eyes down to watch him but remained still, not wanting to disrupt the spell of the moment. The baby wiggled his fingers and whined when he realized he couldn’t reach you. You smiled.

You looked back up into Mando’s visor. You wanted so badly to reach out and touch him back, to pull him closer, but you let fear keep you rooted to the spot.

To your astonishment, he dipped his helmet, as if he was going to lean his forehead against yours. He was inches from your face—you could see your surprise reflected in his visor and hear his steady breathing through the modulator. But Mando seemed to change his mind mid-gesture, and the moment was over before you knew it. He straightened, dropped his hand, nodded stiffly, and stepped past you. The child let out a frustrated cry in protest.

Without the kid’s lingering whines, you might have thought you imagined the whole thing.

Little by little, you were revealing your real self to the Mandalorian, placing your safety in his hands. This would have been harder to stomach if you weren’t getting pieces of him in return. Spending this much time in such close quarters with someone—even someone as closed off as Mando—was enough to get to know them fairly well.

For instance, you weren’t quite fluent, but you were getting really good at reading his body language. He relied on his armor to mask his intentions with strangers, and he wasn’t accustomed to people spending extended amounts of time with him—time to learn his patterns and tells. Over time, it became apparent just how many minute things there were to unpack: subtle tensions in his back and shoulders, clenching of his fists, tapping of his fingers, the lean in his hips, audible inhales or exhales, the tilt of his helmet. Plus, there were nuanced flavors of each movement: a sassy head tilt, an angry head tilt, a confused head tilt. Soon enough, you’d be able to create a dictionary of the Mandalorian’s body language. 

It was strange to think that you’d only been with him for a few weeks, and you might be the only person in the galaxy who could read him so well.

Something else you’d come to learn about Mando was that he was very particular about where his things were kept. This made sense—he’d clearly been living alone for years, if not decades. Of course someone with such a nomadic, unsettled lifestyle would want to carefully control what little in his environment that he could, but his compulsive organization was next level.

You came to this conclusion after you scooted his toothbrush and toothpaste over just slightly in the med cabinet to make a space for yours. The next morning, you opened the cabinet to find his things exactly where they had been before you’d moved them. You looked down to see that yours were sitting precariously on the edge of the sink, waiting to fall to the floor at the first sign of turbulence. Seriously?

That inspired you to devise a fun game—well, it was fun for you. You were pretty sure Mando hated it, though to his credit, he didn’t say anything about it for several days. Every day, you’d move one of his items just slightly to see if he’d notice and move it back. So far, he’d caught every tiny adjustment. He even reoriented his bar of soap when you moved it so it sat slightly off-kilter in its dish in the shower. He hadn’t even showered yet that day.

After three days, he finally cracked.

He was digging through a storage compartment, huffing dramatically though his modulator as he searched for something.

“I can’t imagine you’ve lost something,” you said, from where you were sitting on a crate sharing a ration pack with the kid, who was perched on your lap. “Not with how terrifyingly organized you are.”

“Yeah, well, that was only true before you started moving my stuff around.” 

You grinned. “I was wondering when you were going to say something.”

“I was wondering when you were going to stop,” he huffed, but you detected the lightest trace of amusement in his tone.

“I haven’t actually moved anything,” you laughed. “Just... adjusted.”

He harrumphed, still digging around in the box.

The kid chittered and reached toward your hand for more food. You gave him another piece.

“If you let me leave my toothbrush and toothpaste in the med cabinet, I’ll stop.”

He looked up. “That’s it?”

“I’m a reasonable woman.”

“Deal.”

When you went to brush your teeth that night, one of the three shelves in the med cabinet had been completely cleared for you.

As you slowly began to insinuate yourself into Mando and the kid’s life, the guilt of not telling him about the bounty on your head started to weigh heavier on your mind. He deserved to know, but you couldn’t imagine him letting you stay if he found out. Why would he assume any extra risk? I’ll tell him soon. We probably won’t be together much longer anyways.

***

“I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

The unfamiliar voice of the bounty hunter echoed over the com in the cockpit. A ship was hot on your tail, landing several shots that rattled the Crest violently. The child, who was strapped into the seat beside you, seemed to enjoy the excitement of the chase, arms raised and giggling. Mando maneuvered the Crest quickly and deftly, so the pursuer was suddenly directly in front of the viewport.

“That’s my line,” he said dramatically, as he pulled the trigger and obliterated the ship in his sights.

Despite the fact that your heart was pounding in your chest, you couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh at that. 

The chase had been short-lived, but the hunter had managed to inflict some serious damage. Alarms beeped and warning lights flashed along the console.

“Losing fuel,” said Mando. He was working hastily, his hands flying from one control to the next. He was trying to address several warning alarms at once.

“You work on that. I got this,” you said, unbuckling.

You stood next to him, attending to the controls in front of you.

“What are—Don’t do that,” he said, “Stop. I need to—”

He didn’t finish his sentence when he realized you were doing exactly what needed to be done to stabilize the ship.

“I thought you said you worked in programming.”

“I did. Mostly avionics.”

The second thruster sputtered and died. The cockpit went dark. All of the usual mechanical sounds that the ship made whirred to a halt. Mando turned in surprise, looking around. He clicked a few buttons. Nothing happened.

The child giggled from his seat.

“I’ll get it.” You walked to the back of the cockpit and wrenched open a panel to do a manual reset of the controls. Some of the lights came back on. Mando flicked several switches, and the displays came alive.

Together, you got the ship in good enough shape to limp to a nearby planet. Luckily, you were already close to Tatooine. The Razor Crest rattled alarmingly as it cleared the atmosphere, and Mando landed the ship with an unceremonious clunk in a bay in Mos Eisley.

Mando left the now sleeping baby in his bunk, despite your objections. That never works. He walked down the ramp to haggle with the mechanic.

Peli was a gruff woman, sassy and straightforward. You liked her right away. Mando deserved the sass Peli dished out, considering he had begun their interaction by shooting at her pit droids when they tried to approach the Crest.

He really hates droids.

You and Mando headed to the cantina to inquire about work. As soon as the ship went dead, you’d both known you’d need to pull a job to pay to fix the damage because there was no way the Crest was making it to your destination in its current state.

You trailed a few steps behind him, watching the intimidating way he stalked down the sandy street, his cape billowing behind him. He seemed less scary now that you knew he secretly had a sense of humor and an occasional flair for the dramatic. And that he once let you sleep on his shoulder. And tied your shoe for you.

When you entered the cantina, you shivered from the abrupt change in temperature. Outside the twin suns beat down; inside the dark cantina, it was cool.

Mando strode up to the bar. You followed him, taking in your surroundings.

“Hey, droid. I’m a hunter. I’m looking for some work.”

“Unfortunately, the Bounty Guild no longer operates from Tatooine,” replied the droid in a stilted voice.

“It doesn’t have to be Guild work,” you clarified.

“I am afraid that does not improve your situation, at least by my calculation,” said the droid, continuing to wipe down the surface of the bar with a rag.

“Think again, tin can,” interrupted a smug voice behind you. You and Mando turned.

A young man, his legs propped brazenly on the table in front of him, continued, “If you’re looking for work, have a seat, my friends.” He gestured to the seats across from him.

“Name’s Toro, Toro Calican. Come on, relax.” He beckoned for you to join him again.

You and Mando exchanged a look and walked over to where he was seated.

Toro swung his legs off the table and slapped a bounty puck down in front of him as you slid into the booth and Mando followed.

“Picked up this bounty punk before I left the Mid Rim,” Toro explained. The hazy image of a woman with dark hair hovered over the puck. “Fennec Shand, an Assassin. Heard she’s been on the run ever since the New Republic put all her employers in lockdown.”

Toro had thick brown hair and dark eyes, a boyish face despite the scruff of five-o’clock shadow on his jaw. He couldn’t be older than 25.

“I’ve heard the name,” said Mando.

You nodded beside him. Fennec Shand was a legend. Having been chased by enough hunters, you were familiar with the big players.

“Yeah, well, I followed this tracking fob here. Now the positional data suggests she’s headed out beyond the Dune Sea. Should be an easy job.” He shrugged.

This kid clearly has no idea what he’s doing.

“Well, good luck with that,” said Mando, standing up. You stayed where you were, relaxed against the back of the booth.

“Wait, wait, wait, hey. I thought you needed work?” Toro looked from Mando to you, confused.

“How long you been with the Guild?” asked Mando.

“Long enough,” Toro spat unconvincingly.

“Clearly not. Fennec Shand is an elite mercenary. She made her name killing for all the top crime syndicates, including the Hutts. If you go after her, you won’t make it past sunrise.”

Mando looked at you and jerked his head to signal that it was time to go. He started to walk away. You stayed seated, saying nothing.

Toro looked at you, pleading. You nodded toward Mando: “You’ll have to convince him.”

Toro scrambled after him. Mando turned to face him, and Toro had to look up to meet his visor.

“This is my first job,” he admitted in a strained voice. “You guys can keep the money, all of it. I just need this job to get into the Guild. I can’t do it alone.”

Mando looked to you. You smiled knowingly, and he let out a sigh and nodded.

The man cannot say no to someone who needs help.

Toro was visibly relieved.

“Meet us at hangar three-five in half an hour. Bring three speeder bikes and give me the tracking fob,” instructed Mando, holding out a hand.

Toro’s shoulders pulled together. Someone doesn’t want to let go of the fob.

Without any warning, he smashed the fob on the wall. It sparked.

Mando gave Toro his angry head tilt.

“Don’t worry, got it all memorized,” assured Toro, tapping a finger on his temple.

“Half an hour,” growled Mando.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me now, guys,” Toro said triumphantly, turning to look at you.

Mando pushed past Toro and walked back to the booth, leaning down toward you. “I am not that predictable,” he muttered in a low, irritated voice.

“You really are,” you smiled up at him. “I’ll meet you at the hangar in 20. I want real food.”

He nodded and left.

Toro looked very pleased with himself, grinning at you.

“You better go track down those bikes,” you reminded him, gesturing for a droid to come take your order.

Toro ignored your advice. Instead, he looked you up and down in a way that made your skin crawl and slid back into the booth across from you.

“You know what? I have an even better idea. Me and you can take Fennec ourselves. You look like a girl who can handle herself. Let’s ditch that rusty bucket right now and do this together. Fewer people to split the reward.” His eyes sparkled.

Is he fucking serious?

You already weren’t a huge fan of Toro and his cocky attitude, but the minute he called you “girl” like that, your regard for him plummeted. What little patience you had for this kid was wearing thin.

“Not interested.”

The droid came over, and you placed your order.

Toro, still looking at you expectantly, scooted around the table to sit next to you, and you moved in the opposite direction to maintain the distance between you.

“Mando is old, you know? I don’t know if you can tell, but I can. That’s an old man under that shiny armor. You look like you need someone younger to keep up with you.” He winked conspiratorially, as if the two of you were sharing a mutual joke.

You watched him through narrowed eyes, a sour feeling settling in your stomach.

He was clearly terrible at reading people because he responded to your disgusted look by reaching over to run a heavy hand along the inside of your thigh. He barely made it an inch past your knee when you ripped his hand off your leg, tightening your fingers around his wrist until your nails dug into his skin.

“Touch me again and lose a hand,” you spat at him, releasing him and pushing up from the table. You wrapped your fingers around the hilt of the blade at your hip.

“Whoa, whoa! I was just being friendly, sweetheart,” he said loudly, holding his hands up in mock surrender. He looked around at the other patrons as if seeking outside confirmation that you were the one who was being unreasonable in this situation.

“You should leave.”

“I was obviously kidding about ditching Mando,” said Toro, shaking his head. “You really need to lighten up.” He didn’t even have the decency to look abashed.

You spared him a biting response, fixing him with a glare instead.

“I’ll go find those bikes.” He stood to leave, purposefully brushing past your shoulder as he went.

***

After finishing your meal, you stalked out of the cantina and back to the terminal to find Mando.

He was sitting at the top of the ramp of the Crest fiddling with an open control panel in the wall. He looked up to nod at you when he heard you approach.

“I don’t like that kid, Mando. I don’t trust him. I don’t think we should do this.” You stopped in front of him and put your hands on your hips.

“I know. He’s inexperienced, but he’s harmless.”

“No, that’s what I’m saying—he’s not harmless.”

“What did he say to you?” Mando continued working on the open control panel, only vaguely listening to you.

“He tried to talk me into ditching you and teaming up with him, so we didn’t have to split the reward three ways... He also hit on me.” You added the last part as an afterthought and grimaced at the memory of his gross hand on your thigh.

His head snapped up to look at you. “He—what?”

You looked at him, waiting for him to verbalize a more coherent question. You weren’t sure which part of what you’d shared horrified him the most.

“I—what—uh, yeah, I know... I don’t trust him either,” he continued, “but there are two of us and only one of him. We need the credits—and we’ll get the full reward, like he agreed, whether he likes it or not. We’re not going to find many other jobs here, and I don’t think he’s smart enough to pull anything.”

“I guess,” you shrugged. Toro doesn’t seem capable of critical thinking, let alone concocting and carrying out an elaborate scheme. The bounty was too high and other jobs too scarce to resist.

“We’ll keep a close eye on him. Let’s just finish this job quickly, and then you, me, and the kid can move on.”

“Okay,” you agreed, reluctantly. The way he emphasized the fact that you and him and the kid were a team was an obvious attempt to quell your worries. And it did. Mostly. It was a little startling how well he knew you already.

“Where’s the baby?” you asked, suddenly realizing the door to his bunk was open, and it was empty.

“He left the ship, and Peli found him. She agreed to take care of him while we do this job.”

Again, here he is, trusting a complete stranger.

“I told you he never stays put,” you scowled.

“Don’t worry, Peli already gave me an earful about how much I don’t know about kids.” He sounded defeated, so you decided not to pile on.

“You’re doing a good job, you know. The kid really loves you.”

He seemed surprised by your sincerity, his shoulders pulling back slightly. “I’m not, but thanks.”

It hurt your heart a little to hear him say that. 

***

When you left the terminal fifteen minutes later, Toro was outside, leaning against one of two speeder bikes with a cocky smile on his face.

Peli, who was holding the kid and arguing with Mando about payment, stood in the doorway to see you off. You caught the curious look that Toro gave the baby in Peli’s arms.

“Hey, what do you think? Not too shabby, huh? I could only track down two. You guys will have to share,” Toro said.

You and Mando looked at each other. Mando started to inspect the bike closest to you. Before he could beat you to it, you threw a leg over the speeder bike and sat down at the front of the seat.

“What are you doing?” Mando asked you.

“Driving,” you said, shrugging and reaching into your bag. You pulled on a pair of googles and wrapped a scarf around your nose and mouth. You secured your bag on the back of the bike.

When you noticed that Mando had made no move to join you, you looked at him and tipped your head back toward the seat behind you. “Let’s go.”

You could tell by the resigned drop in his shoulders that he knew it would be more work to try to convince you to scoot back than was worth it. He climbed on the speeder behind you, crowding you forward and reaching his long arms around you to grab the controls.

“Nope. Nice try,” you said, slapping his gloved hands away and grasping the controls yourself.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your middle. You hoped he didn’t notice the goose bumps that appeared on your neck when he touched you. It was way too warm out under the two blazing suns to explain them away.

You jerked your wrists down and leaned forward to take off across the open sand, not waiting for Toro to mount his speeder.

“What the hell??” he yelled after you.

He caught up after a few moments.

After awhile, you let yourself relax back against Mando’s chest, and you smiled to yourself when he tightened his arms around you. 

The suns slipped lower in the sky as you coasted over the shifting surface of the Dune Sea.

***

You and Toro slowed your bikes to a halt when Mando released your waist to hold up a fist.

“What’s going on?” asked Toro.

“Look. Up ahead,” The rasp of Mando’s modulator in your ear and the concurrent rumble in his chest made you shiver, so you hastily hopped off the bike.

Mando stayed seated while you and Toro each pulled out a set of binocs to scan the landscape. Neither of you had the heightened vision that Mando’s helmet afforded him.

Through your binocs, you spotted two Tusken raiders standing beside two very hairy Banthas a short distance ahead. You lowered your binocs and scanned the immediate area.

“Tusken raiders. I heard the locals talking about this filth,” spat Toro, who was still watching them through his binocs.

You stepped back toward the bike as two Tuskens crested the hill you were on. Mando reached out a hand to grab your wrist, squeezing gently. You looked at him, and he nodded reassuringly.

“Tuskens think they’re the locals,” Mando said coolly, turning back to Toro. “Everyone else is just trespassing.”

“Well, whatever they call themselves, they best keep their distance,” Toro remarked.

“Yeah? Why don’t you tell them yourself?” asked Mando.

You grinned. There’s that flair for the dramatic.

Toro turned, and the two Tuskens screeched at him. You laughed at the way Toro positively jumped. Mando stood, raising a calming hand toward Toro, and told him to relax. You followed him as he approached the Tuskens and started gesturing to them, clearly proficient in their sign-based language.

Mando’s hands moved smoothly though deft, controlled movements. You looked down and bit your lip, trying to focus on twisting the toe of your boot back and forth in the sand to prevent your mind from wandering somewhere less appropriate.

“What are you doing?” Toro asked Mando.

“Negotiating.”

The Tuskens signed back to Mando.

“What’s going on?” asked Toro.

“We need passage across their land.”

“What did you think he meant by “negotiating”?” you said, raising your eyebrows at Toro.

“Let me see your binocs,” said Mando, holding out a hand to Toro.

“Why?”

Mando said nothing but kept his hand out, waiting. The two suns, now low in the sky, reflected brightly off his helmet. Toro handed them over begrudgingly, and Mando tossed them to the Tuskens. The Tuskens looked satisfied with their payment.

“He—hey! What? Those were brand new!” stuttered Toro in surprise.

“Yeah? They were.” Mando stalked away and remounted the speeder bike. You followed him.

And there’s that sense of humor. It’s sassy.

“You couldn’t have taken hers instead?” Toro asked, nodding at you.

“Nope,” said Mando.

You smiled sweetly at Toro as Mando scooted back in the seat and let you climb on in front of him.

***

The next time you stopped more abruptly. Mando raised his fist and barked, “Get down!”

You and Mando sprang off your bike in unison and crouched down. Toro, struggling to keep up with what was happening, fumbled with his goggles before following suit.

The three of you made your way to the edge of the dune in front of you, staying low. You set yourselves up on your stomachs at the top of the rise. Not far below, a dewback trudged forward slowly with what looked like a dead rider trailing after it, a rein wrapped around the figure’s limp ankle.

“Is that her? Is that the target?” asked Toro.

“I don’t know... I’ll go.” He looked at you to say, “You two cover me.”

You nodded.

He looked at Toro to emphasize, “Stay down.”

You and Toro pulled out your blasters. Mando ran hurriedly down the dune, his own blaster drawn. He approached the dewback slowly with a reassuring, “Whoa, whoa.”

Mando flipped over the prone body.

“So, is it her? Is she dead?” yelled Toro.

Mando turned, “It’s another bounty hunter.”

Toro turned to look at you. “He’s not planning to keep all that stuff for himself, right? I at least want that blaster.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Can you shut up for one second?”

He gave you a disbelieving look. You ignored him and focused your attention back on Mando.

Mando started to rise, turning suddenly to yell, “GET DOWN!” as blaster fire hit his pauldron, knocking him to the ground.

“Mando!” you yelled.

He scrambled back to his feet and broke into a run. He crested the hill as a second shot screamed after him. Again, it hit him in the beskar, sound reverberating off the metal. He threw himself down with a grunt, rolling towards you in a shower of sand.

“Are you okay? You didn’t get hit, right?” You reached out towards him.

“Yeah, it hit me in the beskar. And at that range, the beskar held up.” He sounded winded.

“What happened?” asked Toro, as Mando set himself back up on the crest of the hill, lying between you and Toro.

“Sniper bolt. Only an MK-modified rifle could make that shot.”

“Fennec,” you said. Mando nodded.

“Did you see where the shot came from?” he asked you.

“Yeah, from that ridge.” You pointed.

“Okay, we’re gonna wait until dark.”

“Well, what if she escapes?” asked Toro from where he was resting on his elbows on the other side of Mando.

“She’s got a good position,” you said. “She’s not moving.”

“Exactly,” agreed Mando. “She’ll wait for us to make the first move.”

Mando rolled over and stood only part of the way up, offering a hand down to you. You grasped it and got to your feet. You both hunched low to keep yourselves behind the protective swell of the dune.

“We’re gonna rest. You take the first watch. Stay low,” Mando said to Toro.

You followed Mando back to the bikes.

“Be extra careful. I don’t like you being out here with no beskar,” he said to you, more quietly.

“I will.” 

Your stomach clenched at the way Mando’s voice warmed when he was talking only to you. He spoke to Toro in a clipped tone, like he was scolding an unruly kid. He spoke to you like an equal, a partner. You couldn’t pinpoint when he’d started talking to you this way, but it had shifted recently. It was a tone you’d heard him use with the kid and with Omera. Something that felt a lot like hope sparked in your chest at this realization.

He slumped down against your speeder bike and reached up to pull you down next to him. You leaned back against the bike next to him, your body flush with his, and let your cheek fall against his shoulder.

After a few moments, you could hear a light snore rasping through his modulator. Apparently this man can fall asleep anywhere.

Eventually, you fell into a light sleep, not trusting Toro enough to sleep deeply.

***

You woke to Toro saying, “Time to ride, guys.”

“Come on, wake up!”

You opened your eyes and lifted your head. It was dark out; the last lavender traces of the sunset were disappearing along the horizon. Mando was still beside you, his chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“Look at him, asleep on the job. I told you he was an old man,” leered Toro.

You felt the cadence of Mando’s breathing shift beside you.

“You’re right. He’s ancient—basically dead already,” you quipped, patting Mando on the knee to signal that you knew he was awake.

Toro couldn’t tell if you were mocking him or joking with him, so he just looked at you, slack-jawed, trying to parse it out.

“Not quite,” Mando said, jabbing you in the ribs lightly with his elbow. Toro started at Mando’s words.

You stood, this time extending a hand down to help Mando up. It was more of a symbolic gesture than anything else—he weighed way more with that armor on than you could ever lift. Nonetheless, he took your hand as he hauled himself to his feet.

“We’re going to ride as fast as we can towards those rocks,” explained Mando, pointing to where Fennec was presumably perched.

“That’s your plan?” scoffed Toro. “She’ll snipe us right off the bikes.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t seem remember the amazing plan that you came up with?” you sniped, raising your hands in disbelief.

Mando snickered, a short rasp through the modulator, and in answer to Toro’s question, he tossed a small item his way then handed something to you.

“They’re flash charges. You two will alternate shots. It’ll blind any scope temporarily. Combine that with our speed, and we got a chance.”

You looked down at the charge in your hand, noting the button that would set it off.

“A chance?!” blurted Toro.

You bit back a scathing retort, turning back to your bike.

“Hey, you wanted this. Get ready,” replied Mando, tipping his helmet at Toro.

Mando stepped close to you, lowering his voice. “Let me sit in front this time. In case she manages to make any shots.”

You nodded in agreement, appreciating his protective nature.

You mounted the bike behind him and wrapped your arms around his middle, the charge grasped tightly in your right hand. Mando wrenched his wrists down, and your speeder bike took off, with Toro in your wake.

Mando pushed the bike as fast as it could possibly go, launching it over the swells of sand. You gripped him tighter, and the wind whipped the edges of his cape against your legs.

Apparently Fennec spotted you easily from her vantage point on the cliff because she started her assault immediately, firing at Toro’s speeder first.

Mando reached one hand down for a moment to squeeze your arm, and you understood. Holding his waist tightly with your left arm, you reached your right one up into the air to set off the charge. It went off with a screech. Even through your closed eyelids, you registered the blinding flash of light.

Fennec recovered fairly quickly. She resumed firing only moments after the light dissipated. Mando weaved the bike in a serpentine pattern to avoid the shots.

He turned to Toro and yelled, “NOW!”

Toro let off a charge. Another searing light rippled across the landscape.

After a moment, Fennec fired again, her aim becoming more precise as you drew closer to the cliff. This time, she didn’t miss. A direct shot screamed across the sand and hit the front of your speeder bike. You let go of Mando in the jolt of the impact, and you both flew over the top of the bike and landed in the sand.

Ouch.

Toro zoomed past, looking back for only a second. You didn’t like how easily he left you both behind, but logically, you knew that someone needed to get to Fennec as soon as possible.

You stayed prone on the sand, lifting just your head to see where Mando had fallen a few feet ahead of you. You were relieved when he sprang to his feet and ran back towards you. Without any warning, he lowered himself down over you to protect you from any more incoming fire. He braced himself on his elbows and knees so his body was pressed against yours, but he wasn’t crushing you with the combined weight of his body and armor.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice right behind your ear.

“Yeah.” Your face was pressed against the warm sand. “You?”

“Good. You got the charge?”

You handed it up to him. Luckily, you’d managed to hold onto it during the impact. Mando fumbled for a moment, then lifted an arm to set it off.

After the searing light faded and the dark blanket of night returned, another blaster shot landed in the sand a few feet from your head. Mando edged forward and rested his helmet on the sand above your head. You were completely shielded.

“Thanks,” you muttered up to him, slightly self-conscious that this purely protective position was affecting you so much, a slow heat coiling tight in your stomach. His whole body was flush with yours, his breath heavy and fast in your ear, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his armored chest against your back. The places where he wasn’t covered by beskar pressed warmly against you. Think about anything else.

A shot pinged off his back. Mando tensed and grunted at the impact. You gritted your teeth and focused on burying your fingers in the sand, definitely not thinking about what other things might draw similar sounds from him.

“Alright, I think Toro got to her. Let’s go, but stay behind me,” Mando rasped in your ear, squeezing your shoulder with a gloved hand.

You nodded beneath him, stifling the shiver that was threatening to run up your spine. Think about anything else.

He rolled off you, and you both got to your feet. You breathed a sigh of relief and positioned yourself at his back, both of you drawing your blasters. In the dark, you could see red streaks of blaster fire on the cliff where Fennec had been perched.

“We gotta run,” you yelled, pushing him forward. “Toro wont be able to take her alone, Mando!”

You stayed close behind him, a hand on his lower back, so he knew you were with him.

When you reached the foot of the cliff, you could hear Toro’s groans and Fennec’s grunts, but you couldn’t see them. You and Mando scrambled up the sandy incline that was littered with boulders and crested the cliff right as Fennec wrestled Toro to the ground.

“Nice distraction,” said Mando, training his blaster on Fennec. She reluctantly released Toro from her hold and put her hands up in defeat. You waited, partially concealed behind Mando until you knew she was restrained.

Toro grunted in pain as he stood up slowly.

“Cuff yourself,” Mando ordered Fennec, tossing the cuffs in front of her.

“A Mandalorian. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of your kind.” She stood. “Ever been to Nevarro? I hear things didn’t go so well there, but it looks like you got off easy.”

Fuck, just how much has she heard about what went down on Nevarro?

Fennec smiled even wider when you stepped out from behind Mando. There was no avoiding her now. Sure enough, recognition flickered in her eyes.

Uh oh.

“Well, well, well... if it isn’t my favorite bounty,” she drawled, and before you could react, your name—your real name—fell from her lips. “You lead me all over the damn galaxy, sweetheart.”

***

Chapter 6

[blu-joons]

The Boys Meet Your Newborn For The First Time ~ Leeteuk

You could only smile as Jeongsu made one final sweep of your apartment to make sure that it was clean and tidy whilst you waited for the boys to arrive. His smile grew as he spotted your eyes looking over at him, shaking your head gently.

“They’re not expecting it to be spotless, they know we had a baby only a week ago,” you reminded him, nodding down to the sleeping baby who you held closely into your chest.

He settled himself down on the end of the sofa by your feet, unable to stop himself from plumping up one of the cushions. He knew the boys would be understanding, but the thought of someone entering his home to see a mess absolutely terrified him, even with a new baby around.

The two of you had been bombarded with texts over the past couple of days from the boys, wondering when they could come by and meet Hana, your new little girl. From the moment you got home from the hospital, they’d been desperate to come over.

Finally, after feeling settled at home, Jeongsu text them that morning to let them know you were free. All of their plans were dropped in an instant, snapping up the chance to head to your place and meet the new addition to the team.

“I hope they know to be quiet when they come in, and not get too excited,” Jeongsu whispered.

“They’ll know what to do, most of them have nieces and nephews anyway.”

His eyes fell on Hana, her mouth was slightly parted as she curled inwards to your chest. He was disturbed a few moments later by a gentle knock at the door, standing up to welcome the boys in.

The sound of the knock was enough to cause her to stir, and her eyes to open. You slowly stood up as she woke herself up, looking across the room as the boys all piled in. “Hi,” you whispered, watching their faces light up as they got their first glimpses of your little girl.

They stood back by the kitchen as you walked across to show her off, tilting her carefully so they could get a better look at her. Her wide eyes stared back at them as she tried study the new faces she was being introduced to.

Most of them were rendered speechless by such an adorable sight, with only light gasps the only sounds you heard.

“She’s gorgeous,” Donghae whispered.

“You guys did such a good job.”

Jeongsu proudly smiled as he went to the bedroom to check on Shimkoong. “Who’s going to be the first to hold her?”

Straight away, Heechul stepped forwards, holding his arms out for her. As the other boys went to put up a fight, Jeongsu shushed them, as Heechul turned back to poke his tongue at them. Once he faced you again, you carefully placed Hana into his hold.

“She looks even cuter close up,” he whispered, pulling several faces down at her wide eyes. “She definitely has Y/N’s looks, thank goodness.”

“Hey,” Jeongsu scoffed, “what’s wrong with looking like me?”

Your eyes rolled, keeping your attention on Heechul as Hyukjae and Kyuhyun came to stand either side of him, peering over his shoulder to get a closer look too.

“How are you guys settling into life as a family of four?” Donghee asked as you invited everyone to take a seat. “I always imagined the two of you being the first to settle down, but now it’s happening, it doesn’t even feel real.”

“It’s been interesting,” you laughed, sitting down on the sofa, “but weirdly it feels like this has always been how our lives have been, I bet that sounds so cliché right now.”

Ryeowook’s head as he sat himself down beside you, draping his arm on the sofa behind you. “It’s good that you feel that way, even if it is cliché. That’s what they say having children does, you suddenly can’t remember your life without them.”

The two of you had tried for a baby for several months before finally you fell pregnant, the boys could see how much it meant to you both. When you told them the news, they were beyond thrilled for you, seeing how relieved you both were was all that they wanted for the both of you.

Jungwoon came up to sit on the other side of you, “what about Jeongsu? Is he taking good enough care of you right now?”

“Of course,” you smiled, glancing across at him as he grabbed some drinks from the fridge. “I’ve never really seen him as a leader, but now I see him as a father, I understand all the things that you guys tell me about him a little bit more.”

All of them nodded, thrilled to see such a wide smile on your face. “We always knew you’d make the best parents,” Hyukjae chimed, “he’s done a good enough job looking after us, a baby is probably a walk in the park for him right now.”

“And you’ve always been a bit of a mum to us too,” Kyuhyun added, giggling softly. “You’re always bringing us lunch or making sure we’re on time, I think we’ve prepared you for motherhood years in advance of having a baby.”

It wasn’t a lie; you’d mothered those boys for several years. You couldn’t believe sometimes how chaotic and forgetful they were. Jeongsu warned you about all of them before you met them, and whilst you never expected such a mess, you wouldn’t have had your life any other way.

From across the room, you watched on as Heechul passed Hana across to Donghae to hold for a while. “She doesn’t even cry, you guys have really trained her well so far,” Heechul commented.

“Our daughter isn’t a dog!” Jeongsu yelled from the kitchen.

Yet again Heechul looked across and poked his tongue out at his only elder. “I just mean that she’s so well behaved, obviously the two of you are natural parents to have such a well-behaved baby. My nephew didn’t stop crying at a week old, it was worse than hell.”

Whilst all of them one day had dreams of being able to start a family, being able to hand Hana back at the end of the day was certainly a benefit for them right now. Most of them could barely look after themselves, let alone another life. They were much being the cool uncles who were only around for the happy moments.

“What do you guys think then?” Jeongsu asked, handing drinks around to everyone before taking a seat on the floor in front of you then. “Was it worth the wait to come over and finally get the chance to meet your niece.”

“I think we should all move in,” Siwon suggested.

“It’s hard enough looking after one baby, without all of you too,” you teased. “You just wait for when she wants her nappy changing or she start crying, you’ll be packing your bags in no time to move back out, trust me.”

Donghae’s coo captured everyone’s attention as she let go of a little yawn before reaching her hand out to wrap tightly around his thumb. “Are you seeing this?”

“How are you the favourite already? I bet you forced your thumb into her hand,” Hyukjae frowned, “pass her around so we all get a chance to prove to her that we are the superior uncles. You’ve got a whole lifetime to dote on her.”

“You guys can stay until you’ve all had a cuddle,” you assured them all, “or until one of you has to deal with a dirty nappy, if she poops on you, you have to take care of it.”

Hyukjae’s head shook, “on second thoughts, maybe the two of you should hold her, I can wait for cuddles, when she’s not such a pooper.”

“You’re impossible,” Jeongsu yelled, “our child is an innocent baby.”

“Uncles clean nappies, get over it!”

---

Masterlist

[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy travels back in time and tries to prevent a nightmare from happening to everyone he knows. Everyone else, meanwhile, is highly concerned.

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

(first part) (next part)

(word count: 3,098)

--------------------

Part Two: Sapnap

Sapnap has never thought of himself as an outwardly sentimental person, but nights like tonight make him consider changing his mind on that front.

Things have been weird, lately. Weird in a different kind of way from the usual weirdness. Personally, he blames Wilbur Soot and his dumb drug van that has somehow evolved into a dumb country and a dumb revolution, because apparently he thinks it’s fine to be invited onto someone else’s server and promptly declare independence. But whatever, it’s fine, and so what if it’s getting a little more intense than the games they usually play? So what if Dream’s starting to get strangely obsessive about the whole thing? Sapnap thinks he might too, in his position, and there’s no need to get too worried about it anyway. There’s no way this war—if it can be called a war at all—will last much longer.

But it’s been weird.

Nights like this, though, remind him that it’ll all be okay in the end. Because tonight started out as a war meeting, all of them hunched around a table in Dream’s base, talking over plans and hypothetical ways to kick the L’Manbergians straight into next week the next time they fight. But over time, conversation shifted to other things, lighter things, and Dream flicked water at George’s face for some reason, and George retaliated by throwing small objects at Dream’s mask, and somehow that’s resulted in them all piling onto each other in front of the TV, watching really terrible horror movies. Dream tosses popcorn at the screen whenever someone makes a horrendous decision, and they’re all cracking stupid jokes and making silly commentary, and Sapnap feels warm and tired and safe. It feels like old times, when it was just the three of them on this server, or maybe even like just a few months ago, before Wilbur got it into his head to create a drug empire and they were all still friends, and the stealing and the griefing was all in good fun and the disc thing was a joke and not something that Dream is still weirdly preoccupied with.

It’s a nice reminder. Things were good before, and they’ll be good again. Everything will go back to normal soon, and right now, with Dream draped across his lap and George half sprawled over both of them, he can’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.

And then, Tommy stumbles into the room.

He blinks a few times, because what? But no, Tommy’s still there, even though this is about the last thing he expected to happen. Scratch that, it’s like, the negative third thing he expected to happen tonight, because what is Tommy doing here?

There is a split second in which his instinct is to go for a weapon. But even disregarding how fucked up that is, because this is still Tommy, still the kid he joked around with and hung out with in the early days, and he doesn’t want him hurt or dead no matter how annoying he’s been lately—even disregarding all of that, the urge fades quickly.

Because Tommy looks like shit.

He’s unarmed and unarmored, nothing on his back but his usual t-shirt, and that appears rumpled, like he slept in it and didn’t bother to change before coming here. His hair is mussed, even more than normal, and his eyes are red-rimmed. Sapnap would chalk it up to sleep deprivation if there weren’t obvious tear tracks drying on his cheeks.

Which, holy shit. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Tommy cry before. So what the hell could have happened that he would show up in Dream’s base of all places, alone and looking like this?

“Uh,” he says, very eloquently. “We’re having a war meeting? What are you doing?”

Tommy’s gaze drifts from them to the TV and back to them again.

“Oh, good,” Tommy says, and he sounds… off. Like he’s trying too hard to sound casual. Sapnap’s not quite sure how he knows that, except that there’s an odd strain in his voice, and the words don’t seem to come easily, like he has to search for them, and that’s wrong. Tommy delivers insults as easily as breathing, even when they’re not particularly clever ones. “Here I was worried you were having a sleepover. Like middle school girls.”

“We can have a sleepover if we want,” George mutters, sounding slightly offended and also like he’s too tired for this. Which, honestly, Sapnap completely agrees with.

“If this is supposed to be a sneak attack or something, it’s a really bad one,” Dream says, and finally puts in the effort of rolling to his feet in one smooth motion and taking a few steps in Tommy’s direction. “Why are you here, Tommy, and how soon can you leave? Or do we need to make you?”

It’s definitely too late at night to sound threatening. Even Dream can’t manage it very well, too much sleep creeping into his voice.

Except it seems to work. Tommy flinches, and takes a step back. Alarm bells start clamoring in Sapnap’s head, because the one thing Tommy has never been is scared of Dream.

Dream catches it too. His head tilts, and he stops his advance. Sapnap exchanges glances with George, and they both get to their feet as well, the earlier warmth and comfort almost forgotten. The movie continues to play in the background, disregarded.

“I’m not here for a fight,” Tommy says, and Sapnap can’t stop his snort.

“You’re always here for a fight,” he says, and Tommy—

Tommy looks at him. Just looks at him, and it’s only for a second, but he could swear that there is something dark in Tommy’s eyes, something dangerous, something that Sapnap has seen before but never in the face of someone so young, something that speaks of loss and bloodshed and an unshakable determination to do whatever it takes. To accomplish what, he doesn’t know, and he can’t find out, because Tommy blinks, looks away, and the moment is gone.

“Not tonight,” Tommy says, and turns his gaze on Dream. And keeps it there. “I want to propose a deal.”

“You want to propose a deal,” Dream repeats. “You want—you came here at three in the morning to try to make a deal with us? I—okay, why? What do you want, and why do you think we’ll give it to you?” Dream’s voice is increasing in both volume and snappiness, and Sapnap can’t blame him; deals, when coming from Tommy, inevitably end in some sort of scam, in his experience, and if Tommy’s really trekked all the way over to their base to try to pull one over them, he’s got another thing coming to him.

But at the same time, Tommy has actually trekked all the way over to their base, looking like he’s halfway to death via exhaustion. His voice is flat, and he’s watching Dream like he’s some sort of predator, like he’s going to attack at the slightest provocation. Which might just be the case, but the point is that Tommy has never seemed this aware of it. Never been careful, never given Dream the respect and caution that his skills deserve, despite Dream besting him in combat time and time again. So somehow, Sapnap doesn’t think that a simple scam is the end goal here.

“You’re going to give it to me because I know you, Dream,” Tommy says, lifting his chin defiantly, and there, there is some of his usual spark, his usual confidence. Odd, though, that it seems to be just that: confidence, not false bravado, not a child playing in shoes several sizes too big, not Tommy trailing after Wilbur like a puppy trying to learn to be a wolf. Just surety. “I know what you want.”

“Oh?” Dream crosses his arms. “And what do I want?”

“The discs,” Tommy says, and Sapnap feels his jaw hit the floor. “And I’ll give them to you. No scams.”

Dream has gone still. Shocked, Sapnap thinks. “You’ll give me the discs?” he says. “Just like that, you’ll give them to me?” He’s disbelieving—but he’s interested. That much is plain as day. And Sapnap still doesn’t understand why Dream cares about those things so much, because sure, Tommy was being really annoying about them, but at the end of the day, discs are all they are. Music discs like any other music discs.

“I mean, no, not—not just like that,” Tommy says. “This is a deal, man, I want something from you. But that’s what I’m offering. The discs. Both of them.”

Sapnap scans his face, his posture, searching for any sign of a lie. There is none. Tommy’s lips are drawn in a thin line, his expression more serious than any Sapnap has ever seen from him.

“Okay, what is it?” he asks.

“L’Manberg’s independence,” Tommy says. “Independence for the discs.”

And that’s—that’s laughable. This revolution of theirs has barely been going on for a month, and it’s already painfully obvious that they’re going to lose, and badly, that they don’t have the resources or the manpower to defeat Dream. They’re going to crush them; they’re not about to let them form their own country right in the middle of the Greater SMP just because of a couple of music discs. That would be stupid.

Except Dream’s still interested.

“You’d be willing to give up the discs?” he asks, an odd note in his voice, and—he’s considering it. He’s actually considering it.

“Oh, come on, Dream,” George says, apparently thinking along the exact same lines. “You can’t just—”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, and shifts his weight between his feet. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off Dream. His whole body is tense as a bowstring. “I mean, you know. Sometimes you’ve got to think about what’s important.”

“Did Wilbur ask you to do this?” Dream says.

Tommy stays silent. For a moment, Sapnap takes that as a yes, as agreement, and a burst of anger flares, surprising him. But the core of it is this: sure, Tommy’s irritating, but the discs are important to him. That much has been made extremely clear. So for Wilbur to force the kid to give them up for the sake of his grand country would be messed up.

But Dream laughs, soft and low. “He doesn’t even know you’re here, does he?” he says, and Sapnap starts, looking back to Tommy for his reaction.

Tommy winces.

Did the child really waltz into enemy territory without telling anyone where he was going? That’s stupid, even for him.

“What Wilbur doesn’t know can’t hurt him,” Tommy snaps, and then scowls. “Well, usually. I take that back, actually. But I’m not here because he told me to. I’m here because this—this is the best choice. It’s the best outcome. So how about you just take the fucking things, and then you go away and leave us alone forever, eh? How about that?”

Dream hums. “And how do you know I won’t take the discs and then raze your little country to the ground anyway?” he asks. “What would stop me?”

Tommy levels a flat stare, and for a second, it’s like there’s someone else peering out of his face.

“I’d fucking stop you, you bitch,” he says. “I’m not—I’ve got news for you, buddy. You think you’re some kind of god. Well, you’re not. You’re just some guy, just like the rest of us, and so what if you’re all strong and shit? There’s always someone stronger.” He pauses for a moment. “There are worse monsters out there than you, Dream. More powerful things. And if you start trying to play your games with me, I’ll take you the fuck out. Don’t even try me. I don’t—I don’t have time for this.” His voice cracks suddenly, and Sapnap looks on in horrified fascination, trying to make sense of anything he’s saying. “Look, you still want the discs, yeah? You can have them. Just give L’Manberg its independence. I won’t try anything. They’re yours to keep, forever. I won’t fight you. So c’mon, you green bastard, do we have a deal?”

Throughout this speech, Dream has gone very, very still.

“More powerful things than me?” he asks. “Tommy, this is literally my server. I think you’re underestimating me here.”

“No,” Tommy says. “No, I’m really not.”

Dream stays silent for a moment. Sapnap would bet anything that underneath his mask, he’s frowning.

“Alright,” he finally says. “Show me that you have them here, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Sapnap would protest. He feels like he should. A couple of discs aren’t worth allowing a whole new country to form in their server. But Dream’s tone brooks no argument, and more than that, there’s definitely something wrong with Tommy, something that grabs his attention and keeps it, even though he can’t put a finger on what it is. So he just watches as Tommy brings his enderchest out of his inventory, and pulls out two music discs, staring at them both for a long second.

And then, he holds them out toward Dream.

“The discs for L’Manberg,” he repeats, and his voice is colorless.

“The discs for L’Manberg,” Dream replies, and takes the discs from Tommy’s hand. Tommy jerks his arm back quickly, face going pale as a sheet as he stumbles a bit.

“Don’t,” he says, and he’s shaking, shaking hard, “don’t you fucking, don’t fucking touch—”

Sapnap’s not sure what the issue is. Dream’s fingers might have brushed Tommy’s when he accepted the discs, maybe, but he doesn’t know why that would cause such a reaction. Dream freezes in place, startled, and it’s impossible to tell where he’s looking, so Sapnap exchanges another glance with George and steps forward, intending to calm Tommy down, perhaps, to guide him out of the base so he can get back home. Maybe he’ll walk him himself; he’s not sure he trusts the kid not to get eaten by a zombie on the way, in the state he’s in.

But Tommy wheels on him, stabbing a shaking finger at him, and he stops in his tracks.

“Don’t,” he says, and he’s near tears, barely getting the words out, and Sapnap feels so lost. “Don’t get near me, just, just fuck off, why don’t you?”

“You’re in our base!” he says incredulously. “Tommy, what is up with you?”

Tommy just shakes his head. His eyes drift back over to Dream, and the discs in his hand. His face contorts, and Sapnap can’t even begin to interpret the expression he’s making, something sad and angry and desperate all at once, but with something else, something… weird. Everything about this is weird, though, and he doesn’t particularly want to admit that he’s slightly worried about TommyInnit, but frankly, he’s not sure he has a choice.

Because he’s slightly worried about TommyInnit.

“It’s for the best,” Tommy says, quietly, as if to himself, but his voice sounds so wrecked that Sapnap’s first instinct is actually to give him a hug. It’s easy enough to refrain, but still. “It’s for the, it’s for the best. For L’Manberg. It’s, um—” He glances up, right at Dream’s mask, and flinches again. “Right. I’d say it was a pleasure doing business with you, but it never is. Bye, Dream.”

And then he’s backing out the entrance, and he’s gone.

“Bye, Tommy,” Dream says, somewhat belatedly, and then they all stand there in silence for a good two minutes. Dream turns the discs over and over in his hands, a repetitive motion. Sapnap recognizes it for what it is—a self-soothing mechanism, something to calm himself with. He’s rattled.

“So, that was really weird, right?” George says, and Sapnap lets out a long breath.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’d say that was weird, George.” And then he whirls on Dream. “And you! Are you serious right now? You’re just going to, what, let them make their country, just like that? Over a couple of discs? Seriously?”

Dream takes a moment before replying, and when he does, his voice is low, considering.

“I want to see where this goes,” he says. “I didn’t see this coming. I didn’t think that Tommy would be willing to give up these discs for—well, for anything. And the fact that he did this on his own? Without even telling anyone? You’re right, it’s weird. I want to figure it out.” He shrugs, posture untensing. The discs vanish into his inventory. “Besides, I have the discs now, which means I have power over him. And we can always declare war again later if we want. I promised him L’Manberg’s freedom, not that they would get to keep it.”

He frowns. “I guess.”

Power over Tommy. Normally, he’d agree. Holding the discs over his head in the past has worked wonders. But the way Tommy looked, the way he came to them of his own volition, suggested giving up the discs himself—something about him has changed, and Sapnap’s no longer sure that it will be that simple. Because sure, his face when he gave them up was agonized, but then there was everything else, too, everything he said, the way he was acting, like he thought there was some bigger threat on the horizon, and that it wasn’t Dream.

Weird. Just, so weird.

“Alright, I guess we see how this goes, then,” George says.

“Yeah, we’ll see how it goes,” he echoes, and wonders why the words inspire such dread in him.

They go back to their movie. But though they sit together again, pressed into each other’s sides, none of them relax. The tension in the room does not leave, and he knows that none of them are paying attention to the movie at all, that all of them are lost in their own thoughts, and he resents it, a bit. He wants that easy camaraderie back. Wants his friends, his friends and simpler times, before war, before discs, before Tommy-fucking-Innit and all the rest of them. Just him and Dream and George, messing around, doing what they want, making a server into a home.

Simpler times seem like a long way away. Sapnap thinks about it long into the early morning, long after the credits stop rolling, and can’t come to a conclusion that satisfies him. Can’t find peace. He doesn’t think the other two can, either.

But then, he’s not sure what else he expected. Sometimes, he thinks he’s forgotten what peace means.

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Hello! I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfy but I was wondering if I could get a bit of advice? From your recent posts, you said you left your home from toxicity and just bad things in general.

I’m in a similar situation, but my dad will be taking me away from my mom. And I just know it’ll be a shit show. And I’m absolutely terrified when we tell her and what the backlash will be afterwards towards my brothers and me and dad in general

How did you do it? How did you take the leap? Do you possibly have any advice on how to deal ?

Hello, friend!! ☀️

Thank you so much for reaching out, it means a lot that you value my advice <3

Hmm, okay from what I can tell of your situation, that is indeed a tricky one, but nothing can’t be overcome!

It’s important to remember, though, I was 19 when I left (now 20), so the way I handled things is going to be a lot different than how a minor can handle things (legally at least, feel free to replicate my insane stunts lmao)

Advice below the cut! (family violence trigger warning, I suppose?)

My entire family was and is extremely volatile, and I don’t speak to any of them anymore except for my older brother, but I’ll be cutting him off in 3 weeks too when I move.

Fortunately, my dad and brother were both kicked out of the house years ago due to violence, which left me with my mother, who’s quite insidious herself (just watch any Conjuring movie and that’ll give a good idea of what it was like living in that house lol)

I get the same feeling watching this scene as when I was around her in that house. Granted she didn’t try to change my gender, but the hatred for my father getting taken out on me is pretty accurate lol, paired with the immediate “motherly love” afterwards (she never hit me though, pleased to say — she wasn’t physically violent, just emotionally, financially, mentally and verbally. She did try to run my dad over once though, so, there’s that too)

Yikes…yeahh the same eerie feeling for sure, still makes all my hairs stand upright in memory.

(For further context this clip reminds me of my father and this one of my brother)

In the clip about my father, he definitely reminds me of Frank Gallagher, except he despises my mother instead of revering her. He’s a workaholic instead of a drug addict, too. But the mannerisms are the same. I always handled him in the way Fiona does.

Regarding my brother, I think everything about our family hit him the hardest, despite being the oldest. He developed a very violent streak, and has very poor impulse control. I love him dearly but he’s a snake in the grass, and has thrown me under the bus multiple times to get ahead in life. I mostly just pity him, since I know what our life was like growing up. But still, I can’t defend him forever, especially not at the cost of myself. Literally yesterday I woke up to a text from him asking me to come pick him up because he got arrested for starting a fight at a bar and smashing their windows.

When things started getting pretty bad with my mother earlier this year, I started to realise in my heart that there was no way I could go forth in life with her in it. I focused on the future relationships I would have one day when far away from this town — romantic partner, children, friends etc

I sort of realised one day I’d care about them a lot more than I care about my mother, because those future people would care about me. That in turn got me realising that I do deserve love, despite how my mother made me feel, and that I don’t want her to deprive another second of that in my life.

Something very unique that triggered this too was going to go visit an old family psychic, who’s basically just the Gandalf to my Frodo (ily, Chris <3). He very accurately predicted my birth years ago after my mother was told she was infertile — he got the date, year and time right three years in advance, and even knew ahead of time what my personality would be like, which he was spot-on about.

Well, I went and visited him a few months ago because I was lost with my direction, and he ended up pausing and had a sudden feeling, which led to him telling me that he’d just found out I would be having twin boys one day.

Normally I don’t buy into that stuff, but this Gandalf dude…well I knew he was right.

Knowing I’d have sons of my own one day took me from a scared daughter mindset and into a maternal mother bear in an instant, and I knew I didn’t want any children of mine around my mother or the rest of my family, for their safety alone, which made me realise, “Well, if I wouldn’t allow my own children near them, why do I allow myself?”

I started grey-rocking her in the lead-up to me leaving, which of course frustrated her (she’s a malignant narcissist), but it was a necessary step to start emotionally detaching myself from her.

It all bottled over one night after a pretty distressing argument (I had locked myself in my room to avoid it, but she was still at my door carrying on).

My cat, who’s been my best friend for years, was sitting on the floor next to me, and sort of looked up and I swear he spoke with his eyes, saying, “You know we can’t keep doing this, right? You know this abuse has an expiry date?”

I agreed with my cat and knew right then and there that I’d be leaving that night after my mother fell asleep.

Well, when she was finally done (with threats that there’d be more in stock in the morning, mind you) I went to bed early and set my alarm to 3am (was a little inside joke with myself, since that’s biblically the “witching devil hour”)

I started quietly packing my quilt and cat up (I’d already been secretly packing the boot of my car up with all sentimental and important items weeks in advance, except she caught on and took all my baby albums and more to her boyfriend’s house, so I don’t have any baby photos or information on me when I was a baby anymore, like first words, size and just general things I’d have liked to compare to my own kids one day, rip)

Once that was all in my car, I quietly said goodbye to the old family dog and cat (they weren’t mine to take, not that I could’ve anyways, since it was troubling enough taking Buddy, who’s actually my pet and not the family one). That was pretty heartbreaking, as I knew that’d be the last time I’d see them (I grew up with them and was the only one who took care of them — mother neglects kids and pets alike lmao).

Once that was over, I looked around my house with my hand on the front door and was very melancholy, but knew Buddy was right: it had all reached its expiry date.

I left very quietly and drove to McDonalds for a coffee, as I had a long drive ahead (I had organised to be a nanny in this rich family’s house far away in the city — two hours drive). Luckily they were away on their country farm 4 hours away, so I had time to sneak Buddy in.

The nanny thing recently backfired horribly because they discovered Buddy, which led to more AM escapes with my car, but I’m staying with my older brother and his gf for 3 more weeks only. Something I’ve been working towards for months now is moving to a wilderness island to live in my country’s equivalent of Bag End — a beautiful country cottage, amazing job and fantastic study opportunities.

Best feature yet: it’s 60 hours away from my hometown by car, and then you’d have to take a boat for 10 more hours!! They shall never find me hahaha

One of my friends has also told me recently that my mother has started spreading horrible, defamatory rumours about me around town, but I don’t care anymore because I’m almost out.

So, although I can’t offer any practical advice (idk if you’re a minor or not, but regardless it’s great your dad is helping you!) this is the best advice I can offer:

Find a dream and hold onto it, one that doesn’t involve your immediate family. For me it’s moving to that island and enjoying all the fresh air. It’ll push you forwards and remind you of what you’re fighting for when at your lowest.

Remind yourself there will be other people in your life, whether a spouse, friends, children or even a dog! (I’m getting a golden retriever next year 🐾) And then remember that you deserve all of them and the unconditional love they offer you.

Remember that if you don’t want your mother/family screwing those people over by proxy of her/their relationship to you, then there’s no way in hell you alone should put up with it either, as I guarantee those future people only want good things for you ☀️

There is a good life after abuse, I’ve seen it, and I know you can achieve it, too!

Be prepared for tons of backlash and bullshit — it’s inescapable when dealing with people like this, but I recommend educating yourself on narcissistic parents and tactics to deal with them.

Finding a good therapist who deals in PTSD regarding childhood abuse is important, too. I found an amazing one in the town I’m moving to, who had nearly the same upbringing as me!

So while I’m still struggling with a lot of fear (scared my mother will find where I’m working and living one day) and guilt (I feel horrible about leaving the family dog and cat behind, especially when they need veterinary help, only to then go and get myself another puppy) I understand I’ve done the best I can in a very abnormal situation, and that I can only do better from here.

Also, this song has been a saving grace when going all angsty over wanting to leave your current situation:

It’s from my favourite Broadway Musical, “Newsies”, and lemme tell you — discovering this as a 17-year-old when I was just starting to realise the severity of my situation was pure divinity.

Jeremy Jordan, my beloved Broadway Bard <3

When I finally get my cottage, I’m getting a wooden plaque with the name “Santa Fe” engraved on it, and am hanging it on my front door.

I wish you much luck and love, my little anonymous friend! And please know my inbox is open any time you need anything — vent, advice, a laugh or something else, ANYTHING, it feels good to know my past can maybe help someone else’s present ☀️

Please update me, too! I’m following your story along ardently now! (Also, be sure to take your sentimental items and store them somewhere safe away from your mother — ie baby albums, birth certificates, other paraphernalia/memorabilia etc).

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must hit the road. DESTINY AWAITS!

[petri808]

N1+Inukag Crap! I confessed! @ruddcatha request

Every time Kagome got frustrated at work she reminded herself... it was just a job. Nothing glamorous, it covered her expenses, and allowed her the time she needed to go to school. It wasn’t even that being a waitress was difficult, but instead boring, since she worked the late shift. Between the hours of 10pm and 1am when they finally closed, it was rare to have many customers. Mostly young people on the way to or having left a nightclub, maybe a single grabbing breakfast before an early morning shift.

But there were two definite upsides to working the shift. For starters, all the slow periods gave her time to work on homework or projects. Second, it was peaceful with only one other coworker to deal with. Just her and the sous chef Inuyasha. When she’d first started, they didn’t quite get along. Kagome wasn’t a push over, and Inuyasha... well, he had a chip on his shoulder. The young man was great at his job, so good that the head cook trusted him to do this closing shift all by himself. She was certain Inuyasha preferred it that way, considering he wasn’t a social butterfly.

Over time their odd relationship found its groove and they’d chat if neither had anything left to do. He’d often make them dinner, another minor perk of the job. Best of all, if any of the customers caused problems, Inuyasha was quick to react. Kagome felt safe working in the diner despite the late hours. Because who’d be crazy enough to take on a hanyou? Only a human with a death wish. But she could understand his personality a bit. Hanyou’s were often mistreated. Not full human, not full yokai, and there were still portions of society who saw such unions as an abomination.

Well screw those people! Inuyasha may be rough around the edges, but he’d never made her feel scared or uncomfortable, which was a lot better then some of the losers she knew growing up. On the contrary, she felt safer with him around. So, what if he wasn’t very good at expressing emotions, because it was clear to her he had a good heart. Like cooking them dinner. Kagome never asked him, he always just did it, and at the most opportune times. Sometimes he’d show up at the table where she was hunched over a laptop and would hand her a sugary drink because— she looked like she needed it. Kagome would thank him and he’d reply in his gruff, yeah, don’t mention it, before disappearing back into the kitchen.

The turn around in their working relationship related back to one single incident three months after she’d started working at the diner. It was around midnight when a couple of drunk frat boys stumbled in. First, their shenanigans targeted her with the come-on’s and sexual advances, but as soon as Inuyasha stepped out to confront them, and they started to taunt him about his heritage, Kagome snapped. It was the first time she’d seen such bigotry with her own eyes, the hatred some felt towards his kind. So, she let the men have it! Screaming and cursing, going so far as to grab a broom to kick them out. After the incident, Inuyasha both thanked and berated her for putting herself in harms way like she had, but at least he’d warmed up after it.

That was almost two years ago, and here they were on another slow Tuesday at the diner. Kagome had finished all of her cleaning duties as well as homework, so with nothing left to do, she sat at the counter beside Inuyasha. He’d made them burgers, and she whipped up some milk shakes with one more hour to go before they could close up.

“It’s nights like this that make me question why I’m here,” Inuyasha broke the companionable silence with a sigh. “I mean I like it, but don’t like it.”

Kagome giggled. “I know what you mean. But at least there’s some positives to it.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

“Well...” she sat back on her stool with her eyes facing the ceiling in contemplation. “The obvious ones are I can manage going to school and my studies without being overwhelmed. The free food is a bonus, course your food is always divine!”

“But sorry the company’s not better, right?” Inuyasha throws in. “I know I’m not someone people like being around.”

“Excuse you!” Kagome turned to him with shock and irritation. “You take that back! Because I happen to love being around you.”

“You do?”

“Why wouldn’t I?!” The annoyed woman countered with defiance flashing in her eyes and logic tossed out the window. “You’re caring, amazing, you make me feel safe, and not to mention you’re easy on the eyes...” Oh shit! That part wasn’t supposed to slip out! The moment those passionate words left her lips, all the blood drained from Kagome’s face. “I-I mean, y-you know, I mean you must realize...”

A cocky smirk lit up Inuyasha’s face. “Easy on the eyes, huh? Tell me, is that what you really think of me?”

What blood had drained from Kagome’s face, rushed back to her cheeks in a rosy glow. “Pfft!” She glared back despite the smile she couldn’t control. “Well what do you expect?! I’m not blind! Yes! Okay, so you’re hot. Happy now?!” She harrumphed and folded her arms over her chest in a huff.

Inuyasha’s eyes lower along with the tone of his voice. “Very, actually. Being complimented by a pretty girl made my day.”

Kagome’s jaw dropped, arm weakened and falling to her sides. She wasn’t sure what stunned her more, his flirty response or the fact he’d called her pretty. A silence fell between them. They’d both admitted to finding the other attractive. So, now what? Kagome knew she’d been fantasizing about him for a while, but his compliment didn’t necessarily mean he was interested in that way too. For all she knew Inuyasha already had a girlfriend and just never mentioned it at work. Crap! She wasn’t supposed to confess like this! Now working together might be awkward considering things had been going so well!

Several minutes dragged on before it was Inuyasha who once again broke the stalemate. He cleared his throat. “So, um. Do you have a boyfriend?”

Kagome’s eyebrow raised but breathing slowed. “No...”

“Do you want one?”

[shewhowillnotbenamed1]

@cayeeast​ 🥰 You are never too late, my inbox is always open. :) I hope Damirae?! I have to preface this:  I apologize in advance. I don’t really do fics like these—this is the first. But I want to grow, be a better writer, and try new things. I have never written anything like this before, so honestly, THANK YOU.

Prompts

--------------------------

"More sauvignon blanc, Miss?"

A bottle of wine was withdrawn from the metal ice bucket, lifted by their waiter's practiced hands. Beads of ice cold perspiration were congealing, beginning to travel downward as Raven swallowed another gulp of air. Though it was slight, her grasp began to shake around her cutlery. She had done her very best not to look at the bottle during the duration of the meal.

Now it was practically in her face, sweating.

Her breath hitched in her throat, as she watched the condensation continuing a steady drip.

It was quite possibly mocking her.

The moment seemed to stretch on before veering into uncomfortable, until both gentlemen glanced down at her untouched white.

"Malbec, sir?"

"Please."

The waiter gently replaced the white before disturbing the red. He swept around the table to refill another glass for Damian, who murmured a polite thanks.

Damian fingered the long, thin stemmed wine glass and turned it towards himself in circles. Several rotations were completed to air out the liquor. He guided the blackened magenta beverage to his lips and sipped thoughtfully.

"Raven."

Though Raven didn't immediately glance up, she was focusing on her meal rather intently. She shuffled slices of swordfish steak and capers to make them chase her chanterelle mushrooms and root vegetables around the triangular shaped plate in different patterns.

Of course, the half-demon was sure to select the appropriately suited silverware as she did so. Her efforts were starting to slow, however, as the lemon cream sauce became nearly nauseating when paired with seafood vapors.

Did fish always smell quite so pungent?

"Is there something wrong with the food?" She refocused on the handsome face of her dining companion, flickering in and out of the candelabra light.

"No, it's wonderful," Raven insisted. "Really, wonderful—great... presentation." His emerald eyes parsed the perfectly placed parsley and the latticework of sauce that was now a soupy mess saturating a plate of parsnips and fish.

"Oh, well it must have been." Damian exhaled sharply out of the corner of his mouth. "But, I'll always say nothing is too beautiful to eat..." He drawled.

"I guess I'm not as hungry as I thought..." she mumbled, flushing a little more than delicately.

"I hope our waiter doesn't insinuate to the kitchen that the meal fell short of perfection tonight. If the chef doesn't already know..." He scanned the perimeter of the dining room, as if expecting to be ambushed by the staff or a number of dining guests.

"I'm willing to bet if it wasn't so busy, he'd be out here himself, demanding to know what's wrong with the food." He cut his steak as he reminisced. "Remember what happened the time you asked for salt...?"

"It could just be me." Subtly, she slid her plate nearer to the center of the table. "Even though, I'll never be fully assured that fish is the best idea on a Monday... Are you sure it's fresh?"

"Is it fresh?"

A part of her was teasing, but Damian physically recoiled an inch. To insinuate that he would frequent an establishment that would serve his fiancée day old fish? His face was drawn with his jaw so set, it was as though he had been slapped—or someone in the vicinity had insulted his mother.

"I called ahead. That swordfish was caught earlier today. They're in season, sustainably sourced, and delivered directly to the restaurant—"

And with a menu that read: price available upon request, where other establishments printed dollar amounts, they all but prepared it table-side.

"But... you didn't follow them to the docks?" She asked in a deadpan. "You didn't call the fishmonger either? And I'm guessing, you didn't stand in the kitchen and observe the process?" Raven folded her arms. "Well, I don't understand how someone who takes shortcuts manages to run a billion-dollar corporation."

Raven wasn't at all new to this and she wasn't sure she would ever fully get used to it.

But sarcasm always helped.

"I was under the impression it was your favorite... You enjoyed it so much when we were here months ago." Damian's eyes darkened and then shone, like a man accepting a challenge. "Have your tastes changed already?"

"It's just... It's a little strong—the smell." Raven cleared her throat with her cheeks draining of their remaining color. "It's much stronger than I remember."

"Tell me... Is it work?" He surveyed the tail-coated waiter standing at the ready and lowered his voice accordingly. "Is it...something else?"

This was meant to speak of their nightly activities, the ones that involved aliases, capes, and crime.

Well, the other ones that involved aliases, capes, and crime—no safe words.

Inwardly, Raven groaned, because once again she was reminded of how much harder this could become.

By Azar's blood.

"It's not...that either. My stomach really is too unsettled for fish today." She took the napkin from her lap to wipe her mouth. "Normally it wouldn't be, but maybe... I'm a little unsettled, too."

"Tch... Well, I knew there had to be something." A half frown stole across Damian's full lips. "It's me, Raven... And this is us. We don't hide things from each other. Not anymore."

"I know." She heard her voice wavering. "I know that..."

"If there's anything at all, you'll tell me." He reached across the table to brush her hand. "If you're unhappy, tell me. I'll do whatever I can..." he whispered, lifting his eyebrows to punctuate his next words. "And I mean... anything."

Now Raven couldn't contain a crude snort. "I know, Damian."

"We can stop by a jewelry store - that engagement ring looks awfully lonely by itself." She sucked her teeth in a manner that was less than refined.

"Shoe store then... You can never have too many pairs of those very similar—" Haughtily, Raven blew air up through the side of her mouth to ruffle through her hair. "—but different, black pairs of boots..."

"We can take a trip..." His voice grew lower still. "...have a threesome." But, that one might have been a question rather than a suggestion. And as he pondered his words, his fork went sailing straight through the remainder of his steak without the aid of the knife. "Well...maybe not that last one."

"You're incredible...suggesting a ménage à trois at a French restaurant? Coquin." The half demon shook her napkin at him. "I'd laugh if this fish wasn't making my eyes water."

"Well, I'd do anything for you..." he replied evenly. "If it would make you happy, I'd even consider thinking about that last." And Raven shot her lavender eyes straight up towards the domed ceiling. They both knew the truth. "Maybe someday in the far, far future..."

As if he would ever share her.

That was exactly right, wasn't it? As if he would ever share her, or their lives with anyone?

Why would he?

They lived on the top floor of an elegant building in Gotham with a vintage lift whose golden grills led straight out into their penthouse apartment. But, it could be argued that the building wouldn't have been complete without their elderly doorman, Tom.

On the daily, he hailed cabs for Raven. Semi-weekly, he handed Damian hangers of dry-cleaning that refilled their twin walk-in closets of the numerous suits, trousers, and shirts and monochromatic dresses, blouses, and skirts.

Each morning, he bade Raven good morning as she went off to work and each night he held the door as he bade Damian good evening, a spectator in the lover's lockstep.

Weekly, Damian and Raven maintained long-standing lunch dates clustered in his corner office at Wayne Technologies. Monthly, the couple attended Sunday brunch with the extended clan of brothers, sisters, partners, kids, and pets all assembled together at the Manor.

Yes, there were others in their lives.

Even though Damian would argue they existed more or less on the fringes of a tapestry, while he kept her framed at the center.

Still, he seemed to love everything exactly as it was and he was in no hurry to change it. Especially when every night ended with them tangled together in their king-sized bed.

Two.

Plus one dog.

Titus was the only exception. Unless things changed in the far, far future.

"Do you mind if we cut dinner short?" Raven suddenly suggested. It must have been abrupt because Damian seemed caught off guard. "I think I want to go home early, curl up next to you, and finish those final pages of my book."

"Alright." He signaled for the check. "I'd like that... We'll get you home and I want your final thoughts on the ending. They better be scathing." The waiter reappeared instantly and it was like he'd never left. And even though his eyes remained lowered to the ground, she knew he had to be appraising her.

Raven mumbled something about the ladies room. She considered splashing her face with water and giving herself a pep talk. But to what end? The evening had already gone array. Something unexpected had cropped up.

Unexpected.

How was she supposed to tell him this?

Damian was a planner and for the most part, so was she. They didn't do unexpected.

"Actually, I'm going to grab my coat."

She excused herself and placed her napkin next to the untouched glass of wine. Her feet were pinched tighter in the heels with every step towards the exit. Raven followed the partition around the perimeter of the dining room, arriving at the stairs to the entrance hall.

As she waited in the queue for her coat, her eyes wandered past the sweeping architecture and up the wrap around staircase, where Damian was probably talking to the head chef and the owner. Just as he predicted.

She handed over her ticket, her heart leaping towards her chest as the end of the evening dawned on her. And as Raven grabbed the coat, she wanted to whirl around in her uncomfortable heels and march back up those stairs. Uncaring of her rudeness, she'd steal Damian away, tug him towards the hallway with the row of chandeliers and kiss him.

And tell him absolutely everything.

She would tell him why La Chandelle wasn't at all appealing tonight. She would tell him why she'd suggested going out to dinner in the first place. She would tell him why things had changed so suddenly.

And why everything could.

Instead, she slunk away. Out of the restaurant. Onward. The best she could do now was hope: hope they could get home, hope she could get out of these heels as soon as she could. And then, Raven would figure out how to tell him tomorrow.

--------------------------

"Raven?"

Damian was racing down the stone front steps of the restaurant to meet her at the curb.

"There you are." He was hurriedly slipping a pea coat over his suit jacket and he sounded nearly breathless. "Where did you go?"

"The coat check. Did you get the car?" Her voice sounded small and defeated. "I really, really want to get home..."

"I can see that," He deadpanned. "But that's not what I meant and we both know that." His brown-black brows began to knit together. "You were somewhere else for most of the evening. I know when you slip into your mind fortress and this is different from that. So where did you go, Raven?"

She swallowed and held out her hand for him to take. They walked a few steps in silence, turning towards a side street. The sound of laughter, music, and chatter faded away and for the first time all evening, she felt like she could finally think. Raven exhaled, deciding this was far enough.

"Damian, when I asked about dinner," she began. "I wasn't expecting this... I figured we were going somewhere with a little less wine and a little less fish—less wine cooked into fish..."

He blinked, processing slowly with his hands in his pockets, his head pointed down towards the cobblestone street, coated in a mixture of oil and water. It had to have rained recently. "Well, it's not too late, we can go somewhere else—nothing French, I promise."

He licked his lips before he continued, probably sensing her apprehension. "We can go to that noodle place and ask for two pots of oolong tea instead of the usual one... Or we can just grab tea?" He offered. "But if you're too tired, we can always make it at home. I'll make yours with the biggest, widest mug and saucer we have."

"So you're just...not going to give up on tonight, are you?" Raven murmured, her lavender hair moving as she shook her head from side to side, as if wondering who this man was.

"No, I don't think I will." A smirk started up on his face. "That's the thing about having a fiancée. You can't get rid of me that easily." He tapped her cheek good-naturedly and ghosted over her forehead with his lips. "I'm always going to be here."

"Didn't we...just get engaged?"

"Is that what this is about...?" Her husband-to-be searched every single inch and orifice on her face. "We can slow things down or postpone the wedding for a few months. The last thing I want you is for you to be stressed about this."

"What I mean is..." She ran a hand across her damp forehead. "Gods, I had this whole speech planned—how I was going to tell you..." Raven's unease fell away when she felt warmth radiating in waves, like he was lending her strength.

"Anything," he whispered. "You can tell me anything." He placed his arms on her shoulders.

Raven took a deep breath, her eyes locked on his, and—

"I'm pregnant."

The words froze suspended before them in midair. Damian continued to stare at her, but without blinking. Then, Raven nodded. And then Damian started to nod too.

She couldn't believe she said it aloud; she couldn't believe that it even happened. "I know it should be impossible... And not just that it's too soon."

"You're..." Damian breathed. "You're pregnant."

And he was taking her hands with his own to squeeze them tight. He started to smile—not just smile, he was beaming in a way Raven had only seen once before: when she said yes. This was more than elation, he was in absolute awe of her. He lifted her from the rain-soaked street in a generous hug to sweep her right off her feet.

Damian was holding her, lifting her. Supporting her from below. He was staring up, as his breath streamed sweet steam swirling against the seam of her lips. From somewhere inside blooming outward, was a warmth that no amount of healing or surge of power or strike of hellfire could ever compare.

And he too was giving himself over to this sensation.

With fingers gliding through his hair, eyes welling emotion, she nodded again. And she wrapped her arms around his neck, and drew closer to connect. Deeply, gently, then sweetly, they kissed into the night.

--------------------------

Damian feathered his lips over hers, placing her gingerly onto her feet. And he was grinning madly at her. Then, his grin slid down a little. And then a lot.

His mouth opened, like he was about to say something. He started to talk and stopped. Started and stopped.

"The wine—"

"The fish—"

He ran a hand down his face while he replayed the events of tonight. "I'm such a goddamned idiot. I'm so sorry, Raven."

"It was a nice meal. I had a great time. So, I couldn't eat anything or drink anything—so what?" Raven chuckled. Whatever cruel sense of irony there was in the world, it was a wonderful night. "You know, it's actually hilarious in hindsight, and now we have a funny story to tell our friends... A-and our—our—"

She was enveloped by the warmest, safest embrace Damian could manage as he was trembling. He rocked her and held her tight, inhaling deeper and exhaling harder until they both relaxed. "I am sorry. I should have sensed something more was going on."

"Well, neither of us thought this was even possible. Up until three days ago, I didn't know it was," Raven blurted. And it felt so good to blurt around him again. "We live together. I could have said it at breakfast. Or at the movies on Sunday... When we were in the shower together, last night. I'm the idiot. "

"The shower..." he repeated. "So that's why you were a little touchy about your body." She groaned loudly—this was not happening. "Raven, you've got absolutely nothing to worry about," Damian insisted. "And besides, you're not even showing yet."

"That's what you think," she grumbled.

His lips curled up. "Habibti." Raven raised an eyebrow. She knew as well as he did, that he had better choose that next sentence very carefully. "Habibti... you've always had an aura glowing about you, only now it's just going to grow brighter."

"Pfft," Raven muttered. "Right. As I grow bigger and rounder."

"You know what, yes," he scoffed. "You will get bigger and I don't care. For that matter, neither should you." Gingerly tilted her chin towards him. The way he was gazing at her, with unconditional love, understanding. "You'll be just as beautiful—equally exquisite."

Who could ever doubt Damian?

"And you'll be even more sensitive in all the right places." His low voice was filled with the darkest promises of sin. "I can hardly wait."

"You're dangerous," Raven murmured, knowing she was turning pink.

"Dangerous?" His nose traced the curve of her neck, as the skin shivered.

"As if you didn't know," she said flatly. "It's probably how you managed to conceive with a half-demon in the first place."

She felt him chuckle into her skin, then it morphed into something like a groan. "So, I botched dinner... And sex in the shower... I should have drawn you a nice, hot soak in the tub... Gone down on you for an hour at least...gone a few blocks past the park to grab some slices of 99 cent pizza..."

"How did you know about the pizza?" Raven's eyes widened on her flushed face. "Did Tom tell you?" Whenever Raven said she was going to 'feed the pigeons in the park', what it really meant was she was going to cut through the park to grab a slice of the cheapest pizza she could get her hands on.

So much for the code.

"You actually thought that was a secret?" And when Damian rolled his eyes, he looked less worried and more like his usual surly self. "Please. I've seen the napkins and the pathetic excuses for paper plates... Really, I should have known something was up, there were a few more than usual."

Through the ovens of pizza and pregnancy, he knew and he loved her.

And Raven threw herself forward and held him tightly to her. "You're sort of perfect, you know that?" she mumbled into the hard chest, smelling the usual amber and spiced apricot. She lifted her head and he brushed an errant strand of lavender from her eyes. "I don't want to cut tonight short. Actually... I kind of want frozen yogurt."

"Fro-yo it is."

And as they walked, he bent his head towards her. He touched her face and murmured, "I...can't believe you're carrying my child..."

Damian began to kiss her so avidly, so impatiently, they had to stop in the middle of the sidewalk. She was moaning and pulling pomegranate and malbec from his lips until they were both breathless.

Damian gave her a final peck and they walked back to the restaurant. It was all such a daze, Raven barely remembered him asking the valet to bring their car around. She made a motion towards the door and she noticed he'd already held the passenger side ajar for her.

"I can still do that myself."

"Hmm..." He stared off into the distance with a vague smile, as though contemplating their future. "You're going to fight me at every turn aren't you?"

"No," Raven said quickly. His eyes flickered faintly with amusement. "Not frozen yogurt—I want ice cream. Real, honest-to-goodness, ice cream made with cream, and all the toppings. Whipped cream, hot fudge..."

--------------------------

"Birdie's Diner?"

"Ignore the name, it's a good restaurant. I used to come here all the time, even before we were—" Raven was trying to pull his fingers aside to see his flushed face lit by the bright neon sign. "All diners serve eggs, alright? I'm sure that's all it means."

"And that's the only thing that drew you here?"

He hung his head in defeat before holding the door. "After you."

There were low lamps hanging over the booths and classic rock stringing out of a jukebox in the corner. Raven hadn't been to a diner like this one in well, ever. The hostess handed over two laminated menus and told them to seat themselves. So Raven sat in a red vinyl booth in the back corner, and very discreetly, slipped off her heels.

Instantly, it felt much homier than La Chandelle.

"Raven, we're getting you the best OB in Gotham—that's non-negotiable," Damian was saying. One coffee down and he picked up exactly where he'd left off in the car, driving and planning particulars. "Or Kori can recommend us hers - they're probably accustomed to working with unique cases."

Demonic blood or not, Raven sincerely doubted there was any OB-GYN in the city that wouldn't pass off a patient or two on a colleague, to quite literally, bag a Wayne baby.

The caffeine had fully set in because he was drumming his fingers absentmindedly on the table while he spoke. "It'll cost us another Sunday morning, because you know Kori will want to do an extended brunch when we tell her and Dick the news."

And the second they told her, Raven would promptly conjure up an extra-strength, soundproof barrier around her cellphone to contain the joyous shrieks. And she'd probably have to buy a new phone.

"But it'll be worth it... You know what, it's not too late, I can probably call Dick right now." His left hand darted towards his pocket.

"No. No, you won't." She placed her hand over his. "We'll do it in the morning. Tonight, you're going to sit here with me and eat ice cream, okay?" Then, her ears perked up in a way that Titus would have been proud of. Hearing the sound of a whipped cream dispenser, behind the diner counter, she was almost gleeful. Her ice cream was in transit and was arriving on a round, plastic serving tray.

"Here ya go, sweethearts." A waffle-printed glass dish and two spoons were deposited onto the smooth, scrubbed surface between them. "Enjoy."

"Thank you." She smiled back at the kindly woman in the light blue waitress uniform, with a name tag that read Shirley.

Cookies and cream on a bed of bananas, crushed oreos. Whipped cream and hot fudge. Even one of those radioactive-red cherries on top. And it was absolutely wonderful. She passed Damian one of the long, thin-handled spoons, which they both knew was ill-suited for ice cream. According to Alfred, it was technically for iced tea, but appropriate cutlery was far from her mind. She tapped her spoon to his.

Cheers.

Raven dug in and moaned. In a word it was: heavenly, and far better than she could remember of ice cream. Six more bites and she could just imagine the tip of her spoon about to hit the bottom of her half. That cherry was hers.

"Hey Damian," she nudged his spoon with her own. "Now you're not eating."

"I was thinking..."

"You can think later... You've done more than enough." They would deal with the rest tomorrow. For now, she chose to think of this as a little celebration of the news—just between them.

"Come on, don't let me eat this alone... Sympathy weight starts tonight." She swallowed another spoonful while he glowered at her. And Raven knew full well he'd already had an entire steak earlier. "Don't worry about abs, your aura will just glow brighter."

"Tch—I wonder what genius said that..."

Raven snorted, but didn't argue. In fact, she was absolutely fine with riding Damian's abs—and hard body—straight into the next two trimesters.

"But I have to agree about one thing." Damian drew up his thumb, using it to wipe a smudge of whipped cream from her upper lip. "There is something about real cream..." He held her gaze as he licked his finger slowly.

The blood in Raven's core was warming, the temperature forming liquid fuel for an ache of a different kind. Officially, they had been together for over a year. And this man was now her fiancée. How did he always manage to turn her into some sort of sticky mess?

It had to be unnatural because it was utterly unfair.

Not so subtly, Raven tilted her head at the space next to her. And Damian joined her on the other side of the booth. The diner and the ice cream were so much better with his thigh lined against hers.

"Raven, can I...?" He hesitated, waiting for her approval. He held his hand up to her stomach.

"Of course you can."

Softly, he stroked the skin over her shirt, where the tiny swell would eventually grow. "Raven," he whispered at last, and she opened her eyes. "I want us to take that trip."

"A trip?" Her eyes were so wide only a sliver of purple remained. "A moment ago, you were talking about baby-proofing the apartment." He seemed unfazed. "Nannies? Au pairs? Daycare? What happened to buying every pregnancy and parenting guide our devices will permit? We can't take a trip, wouldn't that be an irresponsible start?"

"We can make time for something important like this," he insisted. "It could be good for you. And for us."

"Why in the name of Azar and all her disciples would this be a good idea?"

"Hear me out... A mother and father-to-be take a trip before the baby actually comes—a baby-moon. That's what they're called," Damian murmured. "I propose we take one, before our lives, and bodies change." He spooned a dollop of whipped cream and slid it between his lips. "What do you think?

"Oh..."

"We don't have to..." He said quickly and dropped the spoon in the dish.

"I think...it could be an interesting idea."

"If you think it's not for us," Damian reached for her and stroked her hair calmly. "I understand."

"No—Damian—we should do this." She searched his eyes. "I want to do this with you."

"Yes." Damian kissed the top of her head. "Just you and me, Raven. We can go anywhere you want."

[livvibee]

Out of the Gutter

Pairing: Starker, minor Peter/OMC

Rating: Explicit (E)

Notes: Uhhh I apologize in advance for this one y’all. 😂

Length: 5.5k~

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Extreme Dubcon, Underage, Incest, Underage Drinking, Drug Use, Minor Violence, 

Read here or on AO3.

“Peter! Peter, this is amazing!” 

Ned’s excited voice knocked Peter’s attention out of the textbook he was reading in the library during an impromptu study session with MJ. Peter shrank in his seat, feeling dozens of eyes staring them down. He shot a pleading look at Ned and watched as he slowly exhaled, tension running out of his shoulders, before he slid into the seat across from Peter at the table. 

“Guys!” Ned whispered excitedly. “They came!”

“What came?” Peter stared blankly at Ned. 

Ned looked around furtively, leaning forward to be closer to Peter and MJ. “The fakes.”

Peter felt a jolt of excitement run through his body, sharing a conspiratorial glance with his best friends as Ned started to draw a plain envelope out of his backpack.

“Stop!” MJ hissed. “After school- Can we meet at yours, Ned?”

“Totally!” He replied, wide smile gleaming.

Peter practically vibrated in excitement through the last period of the day, shooting off a quick text for permission to his father, and sighing in relief when he received the okay just as the dismissal bell rang. It had been a rough couple of months since his Dad caught Peter red handed at a club (how was Peter supposed to know his Dad’s date would end up there?), drunk as a skunk, confiscating his fake ID and grounding him severely in response. Thank God Peter hadn’t been high that night, or he probably would still be grounded, or maybe even shoved into one of those stuffy private schools for misbehaving rich kids. 

Ned and MJ met up with Peter by his locker, and they walked to Ned’s house together, rocketing up the stairs to his room with barely a word to Mrs. Leeds. Once safely inside, Ned flipped open the envelope and pulled out the plastic cards, handing one to Peter who examined it closely. 

“Ned,” Peter gasped, “this looks incredible! It’s so much better than the last one!”

“Right???” Ned said incredulously. “They look just like a regular ID, I can’t believe my cousin managed to get ahold of these.”

“You know what this means?” Peter asked.

“What?” Ned said, still clutching his ID in hand and staring at it in disbelief. 

“It means we’re back!” MJ crowed. “Good luck to anyone who tries to confiscate these babies!”

Peter suppressed a wave of unease as Ned and MJ whooped together in excitement, before dissolving into laughter as Ned’s mother yelled up the stairs for them to quiet down.

Finally it was Saturday night and their plan was in action. Get to the club, become appropriately socially lubricated, dance, maybe even find a hookup, then get back to their beds before parents were awake in the morning. Sneaking out of the Tower would have been impossible (and boy had he learned that lesson the hard way one spring evening Freshman year), so Peter and Ned waited at the Leeds’ for his parents to head to bed. Peter helped Ned out of the window with a small grunt of effort, then swung down himself. All those gymnastics lessons were finally coming in handy. 

They met up with MJ at the subway station. “Hey losers, you rolling tonight?” Ned and Peter quickly agreed, receiving the pills from MJ before swallowing them down dry with the ease of long practice. The trio headed downtown, overcome with good cheer and giggles during the course of the trip, dressed in their finest babyslut getups. 

The fake IDs Ned had gotten from his cousin had scanned at the door as genuine, gaining them entry to the club and access to the bar, access they’d immediately taken full advantage of. Peter jumped up and down with Ned and MJ as the beat dropped and the bass of the song vibrated through his bones, feeling open and loose, in sync with the crowd and with the universe. 

“MJ! MJ!” Peter laughed, yelling her name over the music. “I’m having so much fun!” 

Her response was swallowed in the sway of the crowd on the dancefloor, lips unreadable in the flashing strobe lights and fog inside the club. Peter lost himself to the pure joy of dancing with his best friends, heart thumping to the beat, sweat dripping down his face, smearing his eyeliner and leaving tracks through the iridescent highlighter swept across his cheekbones. 

“Hey!” Ned grabbed at Peter and MJ’s hands, towing them toward the bar. “This round’s on me!” 

Peter could just hear him over the music now that they were further away from the DJ. Ned held his cash in the air, clumsily getting the attention of the bartender and ordering them all lemon drop shots. The trio clinked their glasses together before knocking back the sugar-sweet lemon-tart throat-burning liquid with the faint grimace and loud whoop. 

Peter bopped his way back into the crowd of dancers, happily grinding on anyone who came his way, uncharacteristically uncaring about looks or even gender. The overwhelming urge for touch was fully upon him as he exchanged sloppy kisses and careless caresses with any number of partners, letting himself be passed around the dancefloor in a blur, like some glittery party favor. 

Several rounds of dancing and shots later, and Peter felt great. Better than great. Fantastic even. So what if everything was a little blurry around the edges? So what if he wasn’t absolutely sure where Ned and MJ had disappeared to? Peter was having the time of his life, everything was right with the world! He was sweet sixteen, flush with liquor and lust, and from the look of the guy eyeing him from across the dancefloor, attractive enough to fuck.

Peter shimmied his way through the bouncing crowd with loose limbed moves, catching the eye of a dark haired man with attractively trimmed facial hair. (Didn’t that remind him of someone? Peter pushed the thought away impatiently.) Peter’s heart was beating out of his chest as they made eye contact, blue eyes catching on brown. Everything slowed down for a moment, the music fading into the background as Peter looked the man over, taking in his muscular arms and trim waist, eyefucking him from head to toe as the lights flashed through the haze. 

“Hi!” Peter yelled above the vibrating beat, watching the man’s lips as he returned the greeting. He didn’t waste any time, turning around and leaning back against the man to grind his ass against him on pure animalistic instinct, craving the pressure against his skin. The man’s hands came down to rest on Peter’s hips, pulling him into an energetic rhythm that matched the beat vibrating through Peter’s bones. 

Fuck, it felt so good to let go. To let the stress and expectations of being Tony Stark’s son and protégé drift away from his shoulders, disappear under the haze of molly, alcohol, and raw desire clouding his mind. Peter lifted an arm and wrapped it behind the man’s head, pulling his face down to Peter’s exposed neck. Score, the guy took the hint and started sucking livid marks into Peter’s pale skin, fueling the pool of liquid heat collecting in his core. The man’s hands travelled up and down Peter’s body, running over the front of his silky mesh shirt, sending a wave of shivery sensation through his skin. His fingers plucked against Peter’s sensitive nipples, dug hungrily against the dips of his defined abs, groped the sides and bottom curve of his ass. 

“Do you know somewhere more quiet we can go?” Peter yelled, spinning around to face the man, who grinned lecherously and nodded, pulling Peter with him through the crowd. 

They squeezed their way out an emergency exit in the back of the club, hands frantically rubbing whatever parts of the other could be reached, Peter’s mouth being enthusiastically penetrated by the man’s tongue as they kissed. Peter slammed the man against the wall, drinking in his noise of shocked surprise before dropping to his knees right there in the dirty alley. He could feel the grit of the city underneath his knees, even through his tight black jeans, and relished the grounding sensation to counteract the floating in his head. 

The man eagerly unzipped his pants, pulling out his hard cock, flopping it right in front of Peter’s face. His mouth was watering, senses overwhelmed by fresh sweat and masculine musk as his lips parted to take the man inside. Peter hummed happily, palming himself through his jeans as he gently sucked, bobbing his head back and forth and licking around the tip. 

“Fuck, your mouth-” The man gasped out, grabbing at Peter’s sweat soaked curls with shaking hands. 

Peter grinned around the man’s cock. All those hate fueled hookups with Flash Thompson had been good for something after all. Peter lost himself in the rhythm and feel of skin against his tongue, sucking harder and groaning at the salty taste of precum, neglected dick throbbing inside his pants. He groped blindly for the man’s leg and pulled it between his thighs to grind against it.

“Oh, that’s it. Fuck you’re a greedy lil thing, that’s right baby, suck that-”

“Hey! Asshole!”

Peter froze around the man’s cock before pulling off with a sloppy pop. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh my God, oh no, oh fuck, oh shit. It couldn’t be. There was no way. Peter screwed his eyes shut as he felt a familiar hand grab at the back of his neck, sending a slow roll of pleasure down his spine, and pulling him up and back from his kneeling position. 

The hand disappeared and there was a dull thud before a series of protests started. “Woah man, ow, what the hell?”

Peter was still half crouched, quivering in shame as he listened to the response, which was growled with menace. 

“I’m going to give you one chance to get the hell out of this alley before I separate your head from your spine.” 

The resulting silence was broken by the sound of rustling fabric, a zipper being closed, and rapid footsteps in the opposite direction. 

“Peter Anthony Stark.” That disappointed voice was like a bucket of ice dousing his lust, better at sobering him up than any greasy burger ever could be. 

“H- Hi Dad.” Peter stammered, looking up at his father, who was dark eyed and puffed up with rage. 

Tony held up his hand, silencing Peter with the familiar gesture. “I can’t believe we’re doing this again Peter. You didn’t learn the last time I had to pull you out of the gutter?”

That peculiar combination of shame and anger rose inside Peter, choking him, contributing to his sputtered denial. “I- I- I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to-”

“You were doing exactly what you meant to do. Like you always do.” Tony’s voice was tight as he stared down at Peter, hands clenched at his sides. “Kid, I can’t stand by and watch you self-destruct the same way I did.”

Peter shot to his feet, sudden fury winning out over the embarrassment of being caught with a cock halfway down his throat. “I’m just trying to have a little fucking fun! What I’m doing is nothing like what you did! Newsflash, Tony, we’re not the same person, no matter how often you act like we are.”

The echoing crack of the slap across Peter’s cheek seemed to catch them both by surprise. Peter rubbed his cheek in shock, wide eyed and slack jawed, watching Tony’s still raised hand with utter astonishment. 

His father was huffing and puffing like he’d just run a marathon, chest heaving, breath rasping in his throat as he spoke. “You think this is cute Pete? You think this is fun? All this acting out? It’s like you’re six again and throwing a tantrum, screaming out for Daddy’s attention. Well “newsflash” kiddo, you’ve got my full attention now.”

Peter was still speechless, his father had never hit him before. He’d never even been spanked as a kid, let alone slapped. “You- you hit me,” he said, rubbing his smarting face. 

Tony’s jaw tightened as a grudging laugh slid out from between his teeth. “Talk shit, get hit kid. Unfortunately you’re a little old for me to take over my knee. You’re lucky for that, or you wouldn’t be sitting down for a week after this stunt you pulled tonight. You wanna know how I knew you were here? The social media alerts I have set up on you started going crazy, Peter. Practically the whole city knew you were here, grinding like a slut on some stranger, getting drunk and God knows what else.” 

Peter’s vague noise of protest died in his throat as he thought of tomorrow's headlines. He looked at his father desperately. “I didn’t mean-”

“No,” Tony interjected, “I don’t want to hear it. Save your excuses.” Peter gasped as his father grabbed him with an iron grip by the upper arm, and started hauling him out of the alley to where a familiarly discrete black SUV was idling by the sidewalk. “Get in, and don’t think we’re done with this conversation.”

Peter opened the door and blanched to see a hangdog Ned and wide eyed MJ already in the back. He blushed fiercely as MJ’s perceptive gaze passed over the livid handprint on his left cheek. The ride to drop off his friends was silent, the teens not daring to speak to each other as they each reached their destinations, with only dreading looks exchanged. Even that brief contact brought a sideways and threatening look from Tony, daring them to talk at their own risk. Finally the vehicle was empty, but the silence still weighed heavy on Peter’s nerves. 

“Dad…” Peter spoke into the quiet, voice cracking on the single word. 

“Not now Pete, I’m driving.” Tony’s voice was still rife with irritation, and Peter’s mouth snapped shut in response. 

The utter stillness continued as Tony parked, and as they rode up the elevator to the penthouse. Peter fidgeted nervously the whole way, unable to keep still as the tension rose. He was still rolling, running his hands up and down his thighs, unable to keep still as the urge to touch and be touched seized his body. 

“What did you take?” Tony’s voice was firm as they walked into the living room, not leaving any room for excuses or prevarication. 

“Molly.” Peter muttered to the floor, unable to meet his father’s eyes. He flinched and gasped as his father’s hand lifted his chin, forcing him to make eye contact.  

“Want to try that again kid? What did you take?”

Peter quivered under Tony’s laser sharp gaze. “M- molly.”

Tony’s sigh of disappointment cut into Peter like a knife. The ride back across the city had cooled his righteous indignation, leaving only the shame behind. Peter looked back to the floor, pulling away reluctantly from his father’s hand. 

“I am so incredibly disappointed in you Peter. I’ve always tried to be open with you about my struggles with substance abuse, and hoped you would learn from my mistakes and not repeat them. You can consider yourself on lockdown, no phone, no friends.”

Peter kept looking down at the floor, the film of tears he’d been battling since the slap prickling in his eyes. His dad was right, Peter had really fucked up tonight, in a spectacularly visible way, and so soon after gaining privileges back. “I’m sorry…” Peter whispered. 

“I don’t believe you Pete. I can’t trust anything you say right now.”

Tony’s words stung worse than the slap had. “That’s not fair!” It burst out of Peter’s mouth before he could think twice.

“You think that’s unfair?” Tony scoffed. “Trust me, you’re going to be learning a big lesson on what’s fair and what’s not. Just- Go get ready for bed. I can barely even look at you after what I saw tonight.”

Peter was suddenly furious again, hurt boiling over, too hot to consider the effect of his words. “Is that what Howard told you? After your first sex tape leaked?” He looked up with fire blazing in his eyes to note with satisfaction how his father’s jaw had dropped. “Guess what Dad, I’m not a little kid anymore. So what, I like to suck dick.” Peter jutted his jaw out defiantly. “From what I’ve seen, that apple sure didn’t fall far from the tree.” 

“Bed!” Tony practically roared, eyes flashing, pointing toward Peter’s room. 

“Fine!” Peter shouted back, stomping down the hallway with the full power of his favorite Docs. He stormed into his room, slamming the door and hearing the answering shout echo down the hallway. Peter was most of the through angrily stripping, standing in his socks, bare chested with just his black briefs on by the time the door flew open. “Dad!” He yelped, “I’m changing!” 

“Don’t care, as you so clearly pointed out, nothing I’ve never seen before.” Tony’s voice was clipped with irritation. “Finish getting ready for bed.”

Peter practically ran into the bathroom and slammed that door shut too, locking it behind him. He collapsed onto the cool tile floor, chest heaving with frustrated sobs as the doorknob jiggled.

“Unlock the door Pete. I don’t trust you being alone.”

“Fuck you!” Peter hissed venomously through the door. Dead silence was the answer, instead of the explosion Peter was goading for. 

“JARVIS,” Tony enunciated clearly, “unlock Peter’s bathroom door, override code, ‘Daddy knows best.’”

Peter gaped at the door as it audibly unlocked and swung open and his father stalked inside.

“You want to act like a child Peter? I can treat you like a child!” Tony was clearly still furious, eyes flashing down at Peter who was huddled on the bathroom floor by the sink. “Stand up!”

“No!” Peter shouted back, foot kicking down on the floor in defiance.   

Tony reached down and hauled Peter up from the floor, hands under his arms like he was nothing more than a little kid. Peter kicked and struggled the whole way as he was deposited to sit on the counter by the sink. “Stay there!”

Peter huddled in on himself miserably, feeling exposed and small, shivering in his briefs and socks as the cool marble sunk in through the fabric. He watched in confusion as his dad pulled Peter’s toothbrush and toothpaste from the medicine cabinet, getting the toothbrush wet under the faucet and squirting toothpaste on the bristles. 

“Open.” His father’s voice didn’t leave room for argument, but Peter resisted, giving in to the childish urge to shake his head with his lips pressed tight together. 

Tony caught Peter’s chin with one strong hand and pinched at the hinge of his jaw, forcing his mouth open. Peter squawked in alarm as his body followed Tony’s whim instead of his own will, spluttering as his father firmly inserted the toothbrush into Peter’s mouth. 

“Dad! Stop!” Peter’s whining protests were garbled by the toothbrush as it slipped and slid roughly over his teeth and gums, spreading an intensely minty taste. 

“Can’t believe I found you in some alley on your knees, gonna clean out that filthy fucking mouth of yours.” Tony was growling aggravated nonsense as he scrubbed harshly inside Peter’s mouth. “Down in the gutter sucking off some Tony Stark knockoff while the real one is at home worried, you think your life is unfair?! You think I like watching you disobey and disrespect and self-destruct?”

Fat tears were swelling up in Peter’s eyes, the ghostly ache of the earlier slap making itself known as his father’s strong grip pressed into his cheek, keeping his mouth vulnerable and open. As Tony continued brushing across Peter’s teeth those tears started running down his face in streams as he hiccupped and choked around the toothbrush invading his mouth. The foam that had built up was dripping out of the corners of his lips and down his chin. 

Peter tried to fire back around the intrusion, he wasn’t disobedient or disrespectful or self destructive, he wasn’t! He just wanted to have a little fun. All Peter succeeded in doing was sobbing miserably and disgustingly leaking out toothpaste onto Tony’s hand. He'd never felt so achingly vulnerable, not when Flash first pushed him against the lockers and forced him to his knees, not the first time his father had caught him trying to sneak out of the tower, not even when the paparazzi caught up with him after a particularly bad day at school, sobbing his sorrows out over his mother’s grave. 

Tony let go of Peter’s jaw and maneuvered him sideways over the sink by his shoulder. “Spit.” 

The touch against his bare skin rocketed tingles down Peter’s spine and to his- Oh no. Peter sputtered the foam out of his mouth into the basin, chest heaving with shame. Why was- How could he be? The more he thought about it, tried to unravel his feelings, the harder his dick throbbed between his legs, tenting the dark fabric of his briefs. 

Drowning in confusion, Peter felt utterly unmoored as his father let go of him, turned on the taps, and cupped his hands underneath to catch the water. 

“Rinse.” Tony said flatly, holding his hands up to Peter’s lips. 

Peter shook his head frantically, needing something, needing just a minute to think- To calm down-

“Rinse!” Tony snapped. 

The roiling combination of shame, panic, and desire bubbling in Peter’s stomach erupted. He shoved his father’s hands away, spilling water all down his chest and stomach. “I’m not a child,” Peter shouted as he tried to swipe the cold water off his skin, “and I don’t know how to prove it to you!”

Dead silence was his only answer. 

Peter looked up in confusion from where he’d been glaring at the floor, waiting for the reprimand for losing his temper. Aw fuck. His dad was staring straight down at his hard-on, which was pointing proudly toward the ceiling like it had nothing to be ashamed of, like everything about popping a boner in this situation wasn’t completely wrong.

“I can see that,” Tony finally replied in a coolly interested voice, anger still present but iced over by something- Something else Peter couldn’t identify. 

Peter started to curl defensively into a ball on the counter, but was stopped by Tony’s hands coming down to rest on the tops of his thighs, fingers splaying out across his sensitive skin. He gasped as the touch set off another rolling wave of pleasure to his core that left goosebumps in its wake, sent shivers up his chest, hardening his nipples to little brown peaks. 

“You wanna prove you’re not a little kid Petey?” 

Peter had never heard that tone in his father’s voice before. “Dad?” He asked in a small voice, head spinning, confused beyond belief, heartbeat racing. 

Tony leaned in and nuzzled at Peter’s neck, rubbing his goatee against Peter’s pulse as his hands traveled slowly up Peter’s thighs. Peter gasped out a shocked moan as the prickly sensation sent heat blazing straight toward his throbbing dick. 

“What?” Peter panted. “I don’t-”

“Shhh,” Tony soothed against Peter’s skin. “Isn’t this what you want? To prove to me you’re old enough?”

Peter tilted his head back against the mirror and parted his suddenly dry mouth. “I- I guess-”

Tony dragged his lips up Peter’s neck and to the shell of his ear. “Good boy,” he said crisply before fitting his mouth against Peter’s and squeezing down on his thighs, digging his nails into Peter’s pale skin. 

Peter’s reflexive protest that he wasn’t a boy was swallowed up by his father’s lips and probing tongue, and turned into a moan deep in his throat as fireworks sparked off under his skin. Though he’d thought the kiss from the stranger earlier that night was good, it was nothing compared to this all consuming experience. Tony’s nails slowly scratched up Peter’s thighs toward his aching cock, making him whimper helplessly into his father’s mouth. 

Breaking the kiss and laughing cruelly at Peter’s confused whine, Tony traveled down Peter’s body with his lips and teeth, nipping sharply and sucking at his pebbled nipples, drinking in the sound of his son’s shocked gasps and moans. 

“Wait, no- You can’t- Dad!” Peter cried out as Tony reached his goal, and mouthed lightly at Peter’s hardness through the cotton of his briefs, sucking at the dot of precum that had dampened the fabric by the tip of his son’s dick. 

“Has anyone ever done this for you before?” Tony asked, looking up at Peter and ignoring his protests.

Peter shook his head wildly back and forth, looking down at his father with wide eyes. “I- I’m usually the one who-”

Tony grinned wickedly up at Peter, then tugged impatiently at the tight elastic waist of his son’s briefs and pulled it down past Peter’s hips and ass, freeing his erection to bob fully in the air. Laving at his son’s leaking tip with a practiced tongue, Tony sucked Peter’s dick into the wet heat of his mouth. 

“Ah- Hah-” Peter was beyond words as his father bobbed his head up and down. He curled around Tony as he was completely overwhelmed by the sensations, by the silken tightness surrounding his cock, by the agile working of his dad’s tongue around the tip on every upstroke. 

Peter lost track of time as waves of pleasure lapped in his core, radiating out to all his limbs, tingling at the base of his skull. He could feel his balls drawing up and tightening, and couldn’t control the rocking of his hips, the perverse urge to fuck up into his father’s mouth. 

Pulling off Peter with a wet slurp, Tony tugged him forward off the counter until his feet met the floor, and flipped him around roughly by the hips, tugging his briefs down all the way to the floor. He stopped to give the perfect roundness of Peter’s cheeks a series of wet nips as he stood, before tucking his head over his son’s shoulder, and meeting his eyes in the mirror. 

Peter’s irises were almost invisible, swallowed by the black of his enlarged pupils, surrounded by smeared eyeliner and accented by sooty tear tracks down his cheeks. His eyes grew impossibly wide as he heard the metal of his father’s zipper being undone, and felt Tony’s hardness nestling between his bare cheeks, hot like a branding iron against his skin. It felt huge. Tony flexed his hips forward, making Peter hiss as the head of his father’s cock nudged against his virgin hole. 

“Dad,” Peter began, voice breaking off as Tony ground against him again, making him throb with empty want and abject terror. 

“Yeah Petey?” Tony grunted as he rooted through the medicine cabinet for something slick, hips rutting forward over and over, rubbing the tip of his dick across Peter’s asshole with increasingly slippery thrusts. 

“I- I don’t feel so good.” Peter’s head was back to spinning and his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, even as the slide of skin on skin sent electric sparks shooting though him. 

“Shhh baby,” Tony cooed, opening the jar of coconut oil he’d found. “It’s about to feel really good.” 

Pulling back, Tony slicked up his cock with the oil, spreading it with a series of wet schlicks that echoed dimly in Peter’s ears. Peter gasped weakly as his father’s now slickened cock resumed rubbing against his hole, pressing inside ever so slightly with every pass. 

Dad!” Peter cried out. 

“What?” Tony bit out.

“I’m scared,” Peter confessed in a small voice.

“You getting scared like a little kid Petey? Tony mockingly caressed Peter’s hair. “Afraid of what you don’t know? What’s next, you gonna be afraid of the dark again, need me to tuck you in, need a nightlight?” 

“‘M not a little kid,” Peter shot back in a watery voice, holding back a confused sob. Everything felt so good, felt so bad, he just wanted so badly to be touched, just maybe not- Maybe not like this. 

“Just relax, you’ll be fine.” Tony pushed forward again, gripping Peter’s hips and using the leverage to keep constant pressure against the ring of muscle that clung tightly to the tip of his cock. “Fuck baby,” Tony grunted, slowly forcing himself inside of his son. “Been waiting for you to grow up a little, out sucking on lookalikes when you could have been here sucking on me instead.”

Peter cried out as Tony’s dick slowly slid inside his clinging hole, bringing with it a stinging ache that radiated out to his lower back and thighs. “Stop! Dad, it hurts-”

Tony reached around and tugged at Peter’s cock, which was still hard enough to pound nails. “Can’t hurt that much.” He said dismissively before returning his hands to Peter’s hips, holding him in a bruising grip. “Now shush- Man up,” Tony grunted as his hardness forced inside fully, “and stop your whining.”

Tears were welling up in Peter’s eyes again as the pain built, feeling like his insides were rearranged inch by searing inch. He started crying again in earnest, fresh tracks tracing down his cheeks as Tony pulled back glacially slowly, then slid home again, pulling on Peter’s hips for leverage as Peter clung to the bathroom counter for support, fingers scrabbling against the cool marble surface. 

“You wanted to play grown up games, you’re going to win grown up prizes,” Tony said breathlessly as his strokes increased in speed, balls slapping rhythmically against Peter as he experimented with the angle of his thrusts. 

“Oh!” Peter warbled as his father’s cock brushed against his prostate. “Fuck- Fuck!”

Tony grinned sharkishly in the mirror. “There we go,” he crowed, and added power to his strokes, mercilessly grinding his shaft against Peter’s stinging rim with every push, hammering against his sweet spot. 

“Dad-” Peter sobbed, pain and pleasure mixing up in his system like a hurricane, dick leaking where it hung between his thighs, drooling a long shining string of precum toward the floor. 

“That’s right Petey, you take this cock,” Tony growled lowly. 

As the minutes passed, the stinging was beginning to subside, leaving only lapping waves of warmth in its wake. Peter could see his body glistening with sweat in the mirror, curls plastered down to his forehead as his sobs turned into hitching moans. He was beginning to lean back into the thrusts, pushing his hips and arching his back to meet his father’s powerful pumps. Peter reached between his legs and grasped his aching dick, hissing in pleasure as he spread slickness from the tip down to his balls and back up again, jerking himself with fervor. 

Leaning his head down to pillow on his braced arm, Peter moaned quietly, “Dad?”

“What?” Tony panted between flexes of his hips. 

“Can you- I need-” Peter’s body quivered as he tried to speak. 

“Adults use their words,” Tony said harshly as he reached up and pulled Peter’s head back by his hair, forcing him to make eye contact in the mirror. “What do you want?”

“Please, fuck me harder!” Peter blurted out, flushed cheeks darkening with shame as he watched his father’s face. 

Tony laughed darkly and let go of Peter’s hair, letting his head fall back down to his arm and resuming his clawing grasp on his son's hips. “Who knew I raised such a fucking slut?” 

Peter gasped in shock and stroked himself harder as Tony’s thrusts sped up to a blistering pace, moaning like a cheap whore as his father’s cock pistoned in and out of his hole, slamming against his sweet spot on every stroke. His balls were tight with need, the heat in his core raging like a wildfire. Peter just needed- He didn’t know what he needed, but he needed it soon, he needed it like, now; he needed it like, yesterday.  

“You like that baby boy?” Tony reached in between their bodies and traced Peter’s reddened rim with his fingers before slowly pressing in a single digit, stretching Peter’s hole even further. 

Peter cried out fiercely as his ass began to burn again, white heat overtaking his vision.

“You like being all grown up?” Tony asked breathlessly. “You like being Daddy’s big boy slut?”

His father’s words hit Peter like a bolt of lightning, making his legs shake and back arch uncontrollably. Heat erupted from him as his cock jerked in his grasp and shot out long strings of cum onto the bathmat. His ass clenched, hard, around his father, muscles rippling in rhythmic pulses to the timing of his tsunami of pleasure. 

"Fuck, Pete-" Tony cursed, hips stuttering behind, into, out of Peter, finally coming to a lurching stop as a liquid heat spread inside Peter's ass. 

The bathroom was silent for long moments, except for their slowly calming breaths. Peter watched his father in the mirror, questioningly tracing the lines of his face as he pulled his cock out of Peter’s sloppy hole. 

"Dad?" Peter asked in a small voice. 

Tony sounded utterly spent as he replied, rubbing absently at Peter's hips where his fingers had left livid marks. "What Petey?" 

"Am I still grounded?"

[aiimaginesbts]

Eternal Summer (M)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: Loads of Angst | Fluff mixed in between | Smut | Childhood friends to lovers AU Warnings: Language | Alcohol | Masturbating | Rough sex | Public sex Word Count: 39k+ words

Disclaimer/Copyright

Summary:  Breaking up with my boyfriend leaves an empty spot on the overseas vacation that I had been looking forward to for a long time. I’m torn between abandoning the trip or going it solo when someone offers to tag along. However, having Jimin, my best friend go with me may not be the best idea — since my crush on him has never gone away.

Author’s Note: This is my fic for the ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ writing event hosted by @jamaisjoons​ with ‘Go sightseeing on a vacation’ as my prompt.

This grin just can’t be wiped off my face. While I’m aware that people passing by me are shooting me weird looks thanks to my humming, I don’t want to stop for their sake. I can barely hold myself from skipping down the street, lined with leafy trees on one side and boutique stores on the other – I’m that excited. The merciless rays of the late sun are welcome on my skin after weeks of slaving away even more than usual at work just so I can enjoy this long awaited vacation. It has completely paid off, since I’ve managed to settle everything I needed to with one day to spare. Everyone – myself included – expected me to be toiling away until the last minute. I even packed my luggage in advance, little by little, whenever I could, since I didn’t think I would have time to do it. So, with everything ready and time to spare, I head towards the only place I could think of going when I don’t know what to do with myself.

After making a stop at Se Hoon’s favourite restaurant to order take-out for dinner, I continue on my way towards his apartment. Since I plan to make this a surprise visit, he might still be working. Still, another glance at my watch convinces me that he will definitely be at home. Se Hoon prefers to work from home, so unless there’s work that he must settle at the office, he’s usually home by this time, even if he has to continue working there. It might mean that I’ll be shooed away while he finishes, but I don’t care. I’m content to just watch him as I eat my dinner. As long as I’m with him. We’ll be going together on vacation the day after tomorrow, but there’s no harm in starting early, is there? Plus, I’ve been too busy to see him lately. And the few scant times I could manage to get some time off, he would be busy instead. It seems like we’ve been missing each other for a while now, and I just miss being with someone.

Another fifteen minutes of walking and an elevator ride to the eighteenth floor later, I arrive in front of Se Hoon’s dark brown apartment door. I hesitate, wondering if I should let myself in or announce myself first. It has been a while since I’ve arrived here on my own, but recalling the times he got grumpy because he was interrupted to open the door for me way in the beginning of our relationship, I pressed the keys to unlock his door. No sense making him stop whatever he’s doing and come for me when I can open the door on my own.

Although I’ve been telling myself that I’m perfectly happy just to be in his presence this evening, my lips purse into a disappointed pout when I notice a pair of unfamiliar women’s black pumps at the entrance. It’s rare for Se Hoon to have visitors to his house, other than myself, but I suppose it’s safe to say that he isn’t done with work. At least his co-worker is willing to come over, so he doesn’t have to stay in the office. Otherwise I’d have arrived at an empty house.

Not wanting to interfere with his work by calling out, I kick off my similar, but lower, heels next to hers and start making my way inside. It has been a while since I’d had time to visit, but the surroundings are pretty much the same as I remember it from last time. Neither of us are the type of people to periodically arrange furniture, or make any changes at all, for that matter. Some people may find it boring, but I’m comfortable in its familiarity.

However, just a few steps in and my eyes land on an unexpected sight. A dark blue tie, adorned with a tiny white diamond pattern, lying on the floor. Se Hoon’s tie. I remember giving it to him for his birthday several months ago. Then a light pink shirt that I don’t recognise – I don’t pride myself on knowing Se Hoon’s wardrobe inside and out, but this shirt is way too small for him. My feet slow to a stop, but my breathing becomes laboured; like I’m running a marathon. Even though I scream in my head in denial, telling myself to turn around and not to continue looking, my eyes betray me by straying ahead, following the trail of clothes into his bedroom.

“Se Hoon?” I call out without thinking, but my voice comes out a croak, volume barely a whisper. The world I thought I had built solidly enough is crumbling under the soles of my feet. Familiar comfort no longer.

“Looks like our plane is here.”

Although my eyes are wide open and the world is bright, blinding even; the light from the sun is relentlessly shining through the gigantic glass panes of the airport, everything looks like a blur to me. I see vague shapes moving inconsequentially in my field of vision, but I can’t make out anything. The world hasn’t righted itself after it got thrown off its axis just yet. I’m dimly aware of where I currently am, of what brought me to this point. And yet in my mind, I’m still frozen in Se Hoon’s apartment two days ago.

While words cannot describe my feelings at the moment, I’m sure whatever combination of letters that the dictionary can come up with won’t be anything good. It doesn’t help that the voice that calls my name repeatedly in attempts to bring me back to reality is noticeably higher than Se Hoon’s. No, it isn’t even that. I wouldn’t be this bothered if it were anyone else’s voice. However, my best friend’s insistence that I return to Earth and get ready to board the plane throws my emotions into a jumbled mess. Forcing myself back to the present time, the surroundings gradually come into focus, like a camera lens finally being adjusted properly. “People are still getting off the plane, Jimin,” I grumble, sinking myself further into the chair in the waiting area petulantly. Maybe I don’t want to board this airplane after all.

This empty feeling has seeped in from yesterday. After a fitful sleep, I’d gotten out of my bed to stare at my luggage, all ready and packed for the next day. I wasn’t sure what time it was then; I’d rolled out of bed onto the floor and turning back to look at the small clock on my nightstand had felt like it would have consumed too much energy. All I knew was that dawn had not even broken yet, as the light blue curtains of my room, so useless at blocking even the smallest bit of light, were still dim. As my eyes slowly adjusted to the dark and started to trace the royal blue strips lining the white canvas, I’d thought about the times I’d chucked the things I wanted to bring into the bag. When I’d seen a shirt that Jimin had said looked good on me, I’d thrown it in there. The cap he’d bought me on a whim after he’d dropped by my office for an impromptu lunch. A pair of socks that Jimin had insisted matched with the pair that he’d bought, just because both pairs have a striped motif. Earrings that he’d helped me choose because Se Hoon couldn’t make it for our date that day. Perhaps he couldn’t make it because of that woman, and not because of work, like he’d claimed.

Hours must have flown by as I’d sat there brooding. Not even sure what I was thinking about – was it really all about Se Hoon? My mind feels empty, but I couldn’t believe that I’d just been blankly staring at the luggage in the corner of my room for so long. And yet I must have had, because when the sound of my vibrating phone grated my ears, making me jump out of my reverie, the room was already bright despite the drawn curtains.

Groaning from grumpiness and the aching of my back and ass from sitting in one spot for so long, I’d braced my right palm on the still-cool floor to twist my body and reach for my phone. “Ugh.” My fingertips had brushed against it, causing it to move forward and teeter off the edge of my nightstand. The next round of vibrations had led to a losing battle with its balance, but thankfully I’d managed to catch it before it made contact with the hard floor. The scramble to play hero to save my phone had left me on both my elbows, horizontal against the floor. By this time, the call had become a missed one. Probably gone to voicemail, but that hadn’t stopped me from glaring at the offending device.

Before I could even look at the screen properly to check who had called, I heard the sharp beeping of my front door lock keypad, quickly followed by the chime indicating a successful breach and the softer click of the door opening to the intruder. Then a call of my name greeted my ears, betraying the identity of the visitor and setting my frayed nerves at ease. In a split second, however, my shock had melted away, leaving mild irritation in its wake. At first I didn’t want to answer him. Let him search the whole place, I’d thought pettily, even while knowing that my bedroom would have been the first place he’d check, then changed my mind. “In here.”

Trust him to hear me even though I’d hardly raised my voice. His chipper, “’Morning!” had reminded me that he didn’t have a clue to what had transpired the previous evening, leaving me torn between two choices; remain in my miserable mood and risk him prying for the reason behind it, or put up a cheerful front. I’m supposed to go for the vacation I’d been looking forward to so much, after all.

In the end, my “’morning,” had come out as a sullen reply. Simply couldn’t be bothered with pretence when this guy was concerned. With my partner for the trip automatically cancelling less than twenty-four hours ago, he was going to unearth the source of my moodiness sooner or later, even if I’d pretended there was nothing wrong.

“What’s wrong?” He’d immediately quipped at my tone, joining me on the floor.

I’d narrowed my eyes at the luggage I’d refused to tear my eyes away from. Still, it was always annoying when Jimin would zero in on me like that.

“Just.”

Jimin had rested his back against the side of the bed next to me, keeping mum instead of answering. I’d always hated that he knew exactly how to handle me at times like these. Several minutes had passed as I’d stewed in silence, then inevitably worked out what I’d wanted to say, like he’d known I would. I’d let one or two more minutes go by, just to spite him, but in the end I’d relented with a resolved sigh.

He’d taken the cue to open his mouth. “Wanna grab brunch?”

Is it that late already? I’d thought, unwillingly softening just a bit more when he didn’t automatically repeat his first question. “Not now.” Holding fast onto my vast – though slowly depleting – reserves of gloominess and fury, I’d willed my stomach not to grumble just then. Under strict orders from my highly distressed brain, my stomach had cowered and obeyed, even as his question had evoked pangs of hunger. Another sigh, then, “I don’t know if I’m going tomorrow,” I finally gave in to the inevitable need to confess, if not my need to eat.

“What? Why?” He’d leaned forward in surprise. I’d wished he hadn’t. Despite not having shed a single tear, I’d had no idea what sort of expression I was making, or whether I had any control over it. Thoughts had been racing through my mind at uncontrollable speeds. Obviously I hadn’t used the time I’d had to think this all the way through. Should I tell him that I’d broken up with Se Hoon?

I hadn’t wanted to.

“Se Hoon has urgent business to attend to and can’t make it.” Ugh. Even uttering his name had made me want to spit and brush my tongue with a scrubber. Bringing my legs up, I’d buried my face in my knees, unable to bear the sight of Jimin’s brows furrowing with concern. Aside from the guilt I’d felt about lying to my best friend, the mix of emotions roiling inside me were – and still is – muddling. There was overwhelming outrage towards Se Hoon, which was not surprising. However, endless hours of pondering had made me realise that the nature of my grief was befuddling.

There had been no tears. Even after the shock of seeing Se Hoon in bed with another woman had worn off as I’d trudged all the way home, walking for about an hour instead of taking the subway, there had been no heartbreak over our failed relationship. When I’d finally reached home and collapsed on my bed, no burning tears had even threatened my eyes. Later in the shower, the only wetness had come from the metal pipes. I didn’t care about losing him. No, I’d thought, with Jimin’s presence solidifying my belief, I’m sad because I’m alone. Even when I was with Jimin – actually, because I was with Jimin – I’d felt so lonely. He made me feel hopeless. He made me feel like a loser. Especially now, I’d felt like I was worth nothing. No, I’d always felt like I was worthless when I was with Se Hoon, or with any of my other exes. That’s why I’ve always chased after a relationship. Because otherwise, I would be worth less than nothing.

It had made me all the more desperate not to let Jimin find out. Better to have him think that Se Hoon was being a jerk – which he was, and still is – by ditching me for work instead of finding out that we’d broken up. Jimin was sure to take great umbrage at Se Hoon – never mind that I  was the one who did the dumping – and would definitely demand to know the reason behind it. To tell him that I wasn’t even worth being faithful for… that would just take the ugly, miserable cake that is my life, wouldn’t it? I’d much rather die than come clean, so I’d pressed the truth as deep down as it could go, took a deep breath and turned to rest my chin on my knee, facing that frown painted on his adorably worried features.

“It’s work. You know how it is. Can’t be helped.” Tossed words accompanied by a cavalier shrug; hopefully passing it off as a small matter that I’d wanted it to appear like. There. It gave the impression that I had a responsible boyfriend, and I was being a magnanimous, understanding girlfriend. Plus, this way I could forge ahead with unloading my immediate problem to Jimin without seeming too pathetic. “But I don’t know if I want to go alone.”

“Hey, what’s the point of riding business if you’re going to zone out and queue with the people in economy?” Jimin’s irritated complaint as he swats my arm knocks me back to the present. Still in a daze, I let him grab my hand and pull me up and towards the air stewardess waiting to check the customers’ boarding passes without complaint, only having the presence of mind to hold my camera bag securely against my side. True, I was really torn between going on the trip alone or cancelling it altogether, but when I’d voiced my indecision to Jimin yesterday, I didn’t imagine that it would lead to this.

We zip past the long queue of people waiting to be allowed to board, all the way to the front. The sweet-looking stewardess takes a look at our documents and smiles, complimenting her rosy cheeks, made up carefully to look perfectly natural, ushering us in. As we stride towards the door to the aircraft, I can’t help but look at our connecting hands, then up towards his slender, but comforting back. Never in a million years would I have thought that he would actually offer to accompany me. In all actuality, ‘offer’ is too mild a word for what he did. After calling in to take a week off of work, then buying flight tickets while I’d showered, did he really think he left me with any choice?

He might have been right that not going just because Se Hoon couldn’t make it, after I’d worked my ass off to get a holiday, paid for the tickets and hotel, would be ridiculous. But I maintain that what he did in a span of less than thirty minutes – because it couldn’t have taken longer than that for me to shower – was the more inane of the two.

However, as we step inside the plane itself, past another stewardess welcoming us onto the flight, the reality of this finally starts to sink in. For the first time since I’ve become single, my face relaxes, and I can feel my whole body relaxing with it. While the cause of this current situation is unfortunate, the outcome is quite fortuitous. After settling in my window seat first, I glance towards Jimin, trying to get comfortable in the next seat over. I’m very aware that allowing myself to enjoy this, or even think about this, is idiocy of the highest degree. That it will just bring me more pain down the road. I know. Years of suffering had taught me that really well. Yet still, being the fool that I am, I don’t deny the giddiness of having Jimin come with me, instead of Se Hoon. Not to myself, at least. If it’s going to hurt me either way, might as well milk whatever joy I can get out of it, right? My future self will probably hate my current self later, so I apologise to her in advance in my head.

“Everything okay over there?” Jimin leans over the wide armrest to ask.

“Mm-hmm,” I answer simply, still half-lost in my thoughts. Sometimes I want to roll my eyes and laugh at myself. Whatever am I thinking, while Jimin is just trying to be a good friend? Imagination running wild can inject a really swift and powerful dose of euphoria, and goodness knows that my spirits need a bit of lifting, but prolonged daydreaming will not do anyone any good. Jimin is just a friend. Just a friend. Indulging in idyllic notions will just burn me in the end.

The process of achieving resolution is interrupted when the plane begins to move. It isn’t very obvious at first due to its size, but I notice it backing out into the runway. As it begins to pick up speed, I forget everything else; from depressing thoughts of being single, to silly fantasies. Turning to Jimin, I whisper excitedly; “My favourite part is coming!”

Before I can start to explain what it is, Jimin laughs and nods. “I know.”

Sitting back against the chair, I absorb the fact that Jimin remembers that I’ve told him before. It’s such a random piece of uninteresting information, but I suppose that’s what best friends pick up over the years. I’m sure I subconsciously collect seemingly useless information about him, too. Not wanting to miss it, I don’t comment any further, instead just grinning at him before shifting my attention towards the window. My heart rate picks up as the vehicle accelerates so rapidly that I feel myself getting thrown back into my seat, gaining momentum until it finally lifts itself up into the air. Sighing contentedly, I told Jimin; “It’s such a rush when the plane moves like that. Like our journey is truly starting, and we’re running towards it with all our might.” He just shakes his head with a chuckle at my childish delight. We’re already high enough that the view outside displays the landscape of Seoul city of buildings and cars. On any other day, I’d be down there somewhere. But not today. And while this may not have turned out exactly as I’d expected it to, I have no complaints about the arrangement now.

As though he’d picked up on my uplifted mood, Jimin asks jovially, “So, remind me, why did you choose to go to Malaysia?”

I remember telling him that I was the one who’d picked the holiday destination. This time, it’s not surprising that he remembers; the way my excited gushing about the trip had escalated as it had approached bordered on annoying, even I will admit that. “It’s a multicultural, multi-racial country, so there’s a diverse variety of things to explore,” I begin to explain, sounding like a tourist brochure, pause to consider, then confess. “Actually, we’re going to Penang, which is famous for having the best food.”

Even though his lips curl down, the way Jimin bites his plump lower lip and holds his shuddering body is a tell-tale sign that he’s not frowning; in fact, I know that he’s trying to hold back from laughing out loud. “Why am I not surprised?” Guffaws escape alongside his words, and I smack his shaking arms playfully.

“Shut up.” Although my pretense at affront is a tiny bit better than his attempt to keep a straight face, it’s impossible to hide the mirth dancing in my eyes. With impeccable timing, one of the stewardesses appears by our side to inquire about our choice of lunch. Ever a fan of chicken, I order without hesitation, whereas Jimin chooses pork as his protein.

“Mmm,” – is Jimin’s way of articulating the tastiness of his meal. “What’s the name of the place,” he picks up his boarding pass to sneak a peek at the name of our holiday destination before returning it into his seat pocket, “Penang food better top this.”

Of course, I have never been there, so I can’t guarantee anything. “If their food is that well known around the region, I should think that it’s better than airplane food.”

Both of us know that I’ve made a sound justification, and Jimin doesn’t have any comebacks. The journey grows quiet soon after, my full stomach encouraging my already heavy eyes to shutter closed. Our transfer in Bangkok, Thailand via Suvarnabumi Airport is a short, uneventful one, and from there, it’s a quick flight to our final destination. Watching the evening sky serving as the backdrop for the sun making a dramatic exit for the night is breathtaking. By the time we land, streaks of orange are all that remain of the sun’s waning presence, and a light smattering of stars twinkle, not to be outdone by the numerous city lights.

“So, are we going to take a taxi to the hotel?” Jimin wants to know our next move after retrieving our bags from the baggage claim carousel.

“Yep, but we won’t be using a taxi.” Armed with the WiFi device I’ve rented in advance, I breathe a sigh of relief as my phone connects to the internet successfully. Sometimes I feel a little ashamed by it, but I can’t stop the feeling of unease whenever I’m cut off and unreachable by phone. I keep imagining the worst things happening. “There’s an app people use here to call for a driver instead of using a taxi. It’s cheaper and easy to use.”

“Oooh.” As I open said app, Jimin looks at the screen of my phone over my shoulder curiously. Compared to Incheon and Suvarnabumi Airports, Penang Airport is very small, which I suppose is befitting of the size of the northern island. It makes the place seem especially busy, and we stand slightly away from one of the exits, doing our best to keep out of people’s way. There must be a lot of drivers on the app service, because one immediately takes our request. Ride secured, we make our way out of the building, looking out for a white car with the specified plate number.

Soon our luggage is secured in the trunk of the car, and we speed away from the airport. From the handy app, I find out that our tanned driver is a man named Hisyam. His fatherly manner and gentle way of speaking reinforces my instinct that he seems to be in his late forties or early fifties, a deduction I’d made upon seeing him. Our friendly responses when he’d initiated the standard questioning – where we’re from, and our purpose of coming here – encourage him to strike up further conversation. From my simple research about Malaysia before coming here, I know that being able to converse in English is enough to communicate with the locals, but I didn’t think that it would go so smoothly. I’d thought that it would be only mostly youngsters who are able to speak fluently in English, but despite his age, Hisyam sounds comfortable talking to us in the language. A comment on this from me has him explaining that many Malaysians can speak English well enough to be understood at the very least, which is a relief. It’s nice to feel so welcomed, especially since he has an eager and easy answer when I wonder where we should get our dinner aloud. “There’s a place that’s famous for its char kuey teow that’s not far from here. You have to try it!”

“Char kuey teow?” Jimin hasn’t eaten anything after our lunch on the flight earlier, and the mention of food, however foreign, quickly piques his interest.

“It’s stir-fried noodle,” he explains. “But the noodles are flat and made of rice. It’s a really popular dish around this region. I’ll drive you there first, if you want.”

Sneaking a glance at Jimin, I can see that he is also in favour of this. “Is that okay, though? Do we need to call another driver after we’re done?”

“I’ll just take some other requests until you’re done, then I’ll come back for you. There’s always people calling for service in this area,” he assures us. “This shop’s reputation is rightly deserved, I promise. So, don’t worry about me and enjoy yourselves!”

Good thing Jimin and I are able to decide on taking Hisyam up on his offer so quickly, because he really isn’t kidding – the restaurant is a mere few turns after that. It’s a place next to the large road, with most of the dining tables spread over an open space past the low fence enclosing the area of the restaurant. I suppose the cooking is done within the small building to the side of the restaurant. The tables and chairs are purposeful rather than decorative, but I know that sometimes a simple, humble place can serve better food than fancy ones. With Hisyam’s phone number saved inside my phone, Jimin and I take a seat at a table in the middle of the place. It has barely gotten dark, but more than half of the tables are already occupied by people who look to be locals. A good sign.

Thankfully the restaurant is well-staffed, and in less than five minutes, we’ve gotten our order in. “Smells good,” Jimin comments hungrily, eyeing the plates on the tables around us. I grin and stop myself from teasing him with the old ‘I told you so’ before I actually try the food. It arrives quickly, although I’m not sure if it’s soon enough for Jimin, who starts to dig in without even waiting for me. “Mmm!” His smiley eyes widen, with an extra twinkle as he swallows the char kuey teow.

If my reaction upon tasting it didn’t mirror his so much, I would have laughed at him. However, our driver’s recommendation has given us a great start to our trip – the char kuey teow tastes much better than I expected. Strips of rice noodles that look like a very thick piece of paper that had gone through a coarse shredder are coated with sauce. This dark sauce isn’t paste-like, yet not runny, either. It’s rich; probably infused with the flavours of the prawns and cockles that accompany the dish. The noodles slide down my throat easily, but chives and bean sprouts mixed in provides a contrasting, crunchy texture.

Our silence during the meal says everything about it. Neither of us are interested in talking; we’re too busy enjoying the food. Only after I finish the last bite do I come up for air to confirm what I already know. “How was it?” But Jimin can’t hear me with his body twisted away in his plastic chair. Even if he could, he’s too concentrated in his effort to attract the attention of one of the waitresses to pay me any heed.

Once the young girl has acknowledged Jimin’s call, he turns back to me. “I’m ordering another one. Do you want anything?”

Looks like Jimin had definitely enjoyed his meal. I did too, but my appetite is nowhere as big as his, so I add another order of milk tea to drink while I wait for him to finish his second plate. Less than half an hour later, we’re back with Hisyam, who is happy that his suggestion is getting rave reviews. “Your hotel is in the center of Georgetown, so it will take about thirty minutes to get there,” he informs us, explaining that Georgetown is in the northern part of the island, while the airport is somewhere down south. The three-story building that he points out sits at the end of the block, and he turns from the main road into a smaller one to let us off. He looks at the hotel in approval. “You chose a good place to stay,” he comments. “The last tourist couple I drove booked a famous hotel, but they didn’t know that it’s known for being haunted.” The corners of his lips twitch while his eyebrows scrunch in the middle, as if he still isn’t sure whether to laugh or sympathise with the poor people’s misfortune. “It broke my heart to tell them.”

“Oooooh, which hotel is it?” Pretty sure that I didn’t come across this morsel of information when I was searching for hotels to stay in, I wanted to know. However, Jimin protests, saying that he’d like to get some sleep tonight. He’s already going to sleep in an unfamiliar bed, and hearing a ghost story just before that is not going to help him sleep easier. Hisyam and I whisper conspiratorially, arranging for a private story time via message while Jimin unloads our bags from the trunk of the car.

Unfortunately for Jimin, this isn’t going to be our first disagreement for tonight. Not ten minutes later we’re standing at the front desk, arguing over sleeping arrangements while the staff looks on patiently. “I should get my own room,” Jimin insists again, his tone riding the line between firm and incredulous at my disagreement.

“Why should we?” This is not the first time I’ve said these words in the last few minutes either, but I’m unwilling to back down. “The room is huge, and,” grabbing his arm to turn him away from the listening employee, “it’s really expensive.”

“I just won’t take a suite, then,” Jimin says with finality, accompanied by an eye roll.

Truly upset now, I let my lower lip jut out in an infuriated pout. “Even a normal room is expensive, and our rooms won’t be close to each other’s, then,” I inform him. “Is sharing a room with me really that bad? I thought it would be fun. Plus, I already feel bad enough for making you come here with me without having you spend even more.” Even though I know that Jimin can easily afford whichever room he wants, even the suite that Se Hoon and I had decided to splurge on to enjoy together, I’m not exactly sure why I want Jimin to share a room with me so much. The reasoning that I’ve given him are all true. Having him spend so much money, on top of messing up his work schedule to go on an impromptu trip with me makes me feel really guilty, even if he’d done it on his own accord. I just hope that’s the main reason I’m so adamant that we share the suite, more so than the fear of having my crippling insecurity issues creeping up on me alone in the room I was supposed to share with Se Hoon.

Since Jimin and I have had sleepovers when we were kids and had even shared a tent when we went camping with friends in high school, I didn’t think he would mind. So when he’d neglected to ask which hotel we would be staying in, I didn’t bother to book another room. In hindsight, perhaps it was just an oversight on his part. He did only have less than twenty-four hours to prepare to go overseas, after all. However, if he’s this against sharing a room with me, perhaps he does feel uncomfortable about it. Sighing, I decide internally that forcing him to share when he isn’t willing would eat at my conscience even more, so I face the staff again as my hand reaches inside my bag, rummaging for my purse. “Could you give us another room? As close to mine as possible, please.”

“Fine, fine, let’s share.” This isn’t the effect that I had intended – I’m fully prepared to pay for his room – but surprisingly, this made him finally give in. “That is, if you don’t mind.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I minded.” Now that Jimin has agreed, I find myself at odds, feeling like I’d coerced him into saying yes. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I could just get another room if you really don’t want to share.”

He shakes his head but doesn’t meet my eyes. “Nah, I just thought you’d feel awkward since you’re supposed to be here with Se Hoon. Are you sure he won’t mind?”

Oh. So that’s why Jimin had put up such a fight. The realisation makes me feel a little disappointed. I guess I’m a fool for expecting something else. Jimin had never been attracted to me, after all. Why would he care about sharing a room, other than concern over causing trouble in my relationship? If only he knew that he’s worrying about a nonexistent problem. “I’m sure. No worries.” Funnily enough, Se Hoon had been the one sharing his bed with another woman while we were still a couple, not me.

“I guess he thinks I’m a robot, too.”

“What?” I’m in the middle of confirming with the now-thoroughly-confused man at the front desk that we’re definitely not adding any extra rooms to our booking, so I’m not sure if I heard Jimin’s mumblings right.

“Nothing.” He dismisses me, taking our luggage and wheeling them towards the lift, leaving me behind to take the room key.

“Hey, wait! Oi!”

“Here are your room keys,” the young man at the front desk calls for my attention, and I turn around to take the two sets of cards from him. His, “I hope you enjoy your trip,” sounds more heartfelt rather than obligatory, sending embarrassed heat to my face. He’d obviously gathered that things are not hunky-dory between his guests… wait, he probably thinks we’re a bickering couple. At first I open my mouth, automatically about to launch into my go-to explanation that we’re friends, not a couple like I usually do back home, then I close it. There’s no longer a boyfriend who might find out that someone thinks that Jimin and I are in a relationship, and Jimin, that jerk, went ahead without me so he didn’t hear it. What’s the point of clarifying such a trivial thing to a stranger in a foreign land that I probably won’t ever see again anyway?

“Thanks.” Still slightly sheepish over our argument in front of the man, I quickly scatter away towards the lift. “Thanks for waiting,” I repeat the sentiment – but this time in a very different intonation that borders on the churlish – towards Jimin when I reach his side.

“Mm.” His non-committal reply doesn’t indicate whether he missed the sarcasm in my greeting or heard but doesn’t care to respond. It does nothing to improve my mood. I narrow my eyes at him, but he carefully avoids my glare, instead pressing the button to summon the lift, then keeping his gaze locked on the red digits changing from 2 to G. His reaction jolts me away from the displeasure I’d felt when he’d left the counter without me, back to the root of our argument. Uncertainty and guilt replace my ebbing anger.

“Sorry that you had to come all the way here to keep me company,” I begin my apology by addressing the sacrifice he’d made for me. “If it really bothers you, I don’t mind taking two rooms. I’ll pay for it. It’s the least I can do, after all.”

The lift doors open just then, and Jimin goes in without acknowledging my words, dragging both our luggage with him. I follow in and press the first-floor button. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, I’m not about to push it any further. I’ve said my piece. Of course, I’m still upset, but Jimin can be scary when he’s truly angry, and I’m not in the mood to deal with that right now. Not that I ever actually want to take on an incensed Jimin. But then, the lift has barely moved when he shifts to face me, his features not quite frowning, but nowhere near friendly, either. “Do you really not care about sharing a room with me? Se Hoon as well?”

“Yes, really.” Well, I really prefer it that way. Se Hoon doesn’t have a say in it, but there’s no reason to tell Jimin that. “No sense wasting money on another room when we’ll only use it to sleep, anyway.”

“You booked an expensive suite in a nice hotel just to sleep?” If I were still with Se Hoon, Jimin’s pointed question would have made me blush. However, all it made me think about is how Se Hoon fucked another woman two days before our vacation. There’s no doubt that there were other incidents before that that I’m not privy to. My blood boils at the thought.

“Well, right now I’d rather get herpes than touch him.” I reply acidly. Jimin might have done a lot for me, especially since I broke up with Se Hoon, but there’s just so much my self-beating, bruised heart can take. This time Jimin is the one doing the following, walking just behind me down the corridor until we reach the door to the suite. Holding the key cards up, I ask him one last time, “Are you sure about this? There’s still a chance to get another room.”

“No need, since you’re so sure,” his reply is slightly curt, but has lost most of the venom. I belatedly realise that he thinks I’m furious with Se Hoon for bailing out because of work, which must have had him softening towards me again. In reality, I’m far more pitiful than that, but I’ll take what I can get. Under his breath, Jimin mumbles again, “I’ll be sure to conduct myself like the saint you both think I am.”

The light musical notes of the door unlocking mask Jimin’s murmuring, so I only register his earlier response, taking it as a reconciliation. Opening the heavy wooden door, I fumble the adjacent wall for a switch, and upon turning it on, white light bathes the space to reward us with a very welcome sight. The entrance stretches and opens up to a spacious living room, decorated with black wooden furniture enhanced by splashes of red – small red cushions and red drawers. Simple white walls provide a nice contrast to the beautiful dark, polished timber floor. While I was looking for a place to stay while we’re here, I had seen some photos of the room, but seeing it in front of my own eyes is just breathtaking. From behind me, the sound of Jimin’s long inhale is audible as he takes it all in with completely fresh eyes.

Excited, I bounce further in towards the bedroom. On my left is a wooden door matching the ones I’ve walked through so far. The walls sandwiching it are also wooden with carvings, but the whole expanse is covered with glass. A peek through it reveals the bathroom, complete with a jacuzzi tub that had been promised in the hotel website in addition to a shower cubicle. The bedroom itself is as beautifully decorated as the living room. Majestic four-poster king-sized bed dominates the center of the room, matching the ornate tables and wardrobe well. Sliding glass doors lead to the balcony, and a large stained-glass window on the other side of the bathroom facing the bed completes the luxurious room.

“I’d be happy to just hang out here until the end of the trip,” Jimin comments in awe as he enters the room.

“I know,” I agree breathily, then compose myself before sending him a firm look. “But there’s food to be eaten.”

My honest statement invokes a helpless laughter from Jimin. “You’re not even pretending that you want to see the sights!” Just like that, all the animosity from before melts away completely. Jimin’s giggles must be infused with magic, drawing out a grin from me effortlessly every single time.

Finally, we collapse on the bed – Jimin resting completely on the left side of the bed, while I lay down partially on the side closest to the balcony with my lower legs dangling over the foot of the bed. If I let myself lay down properly, I know that it’s just a matter of time before I’m knocked out cold from the exhaustion of the journey. A bath in the tub sounds really nice, but it’s too much of a hassle for me now. I just want to sleep; but not with the day’s journey sticking to my body. After some time resting my tired muscles, I let out a loud groan and pull myself up. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

“Mm.” From the way Jimin lazily acknowledges my announcement, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already sleep-talking.

“Do you want to take one too, or are you just going to stink up the bed the whole night?” Poking the sole of his right foot sharply with my finger, I try to verify this with him before I lose him to sleep completely.

“Mmph.” This time he rubs his face against his pillow, perhaps in an attempt to give a more intelligible answer that fails. Opening up his eyes a crack, he asks, “Together?”

I’m not sure if he’s really lucid or not. But I refuse to let him – and myself – entertain the idea for even one minute. My honest answer isn’t good for the health of both my mental state and our friendship. “I’ll wake you up once I’m done.” Jimin responds with another vague hum that I take as a ‘yes’.

Just a little over twelve hours later, I’m sorely wishing for a nice soak in the jacuzzi tub, followed by a nice afternoon just chilling in the hotel room being blasted by the air conditioner. Jimin echoes my innermost thoughts, as if he can read them; “I swear I must have sweat out all the water in my body,” he complains. “Why did you choose such a hot place to go for a holiday? Don’t people run to cool places in the summer?”

“I think it’s the opposite,” I muse out loud. “People go to hot places to escape the bitter winter.” Right now, the freezing winter sounds good to me. It’s slightly past noon and the sun, which has been slowly creeping up on us since about an hour ago, has become downright menacing. Mentally I congratulate myself on forcing an early start this morning, despite both of us being too lazy to get up several hours earlier. The sky had just been kissed by the sun when we set out from the hotel, using the app to get another driver to bring us to Beach Street.

Despite the name, the street is a few blocks away from the jetty. We started our Penang street art hunt here. The UNESCO World Heritage Site is home to numerous street arts, painted by international and local artists. From what I’ve read, there are some very popular pieces that still survive thanks to restoration, but the art scene changes frequently as the old murals fade with time and new ones take the spotlight. Thankfully, the ones I’ve really taken a liking to haven’t disappeared. An early start gives us some advantages – not having to compete with other people for photos, and most importantly, cool weather for a pleasant walk.

Trusty digital SLR in hand, Jimin and I enjoyed searching for the murals, snapping pictures with them as trophies. To my delight – and Jimin’s amusement – many of these artworks on the wall are interactive. The bicycle that a pair of painted siblings ride on is an actual bicycle that you can sit on, similar to the swings a bit of distance away. Jimin declared that the painting of a realistic little boy walking a very-cartoonish dinosaur as his favourite, until he finds out that the artist, Ernest Zacharevic later made a series of paintings he called the ‘101 Lost Kittens’ project. Whilst indulging him in his renewed vigour to find all the lost cats, I noticed that the street art isn’t all that the capital of the island, George Town, has to offer. Narrow streets snake around terraced store fronts and as the morning aged, some of them started to open. Most of them look old, but many retain an interesting charm unique to each one, be it tiles with beautiful patterns covering the doorstep of the store, or windows and doors carved in cultural patterns that hide a rich history that I’m not privy to.

Dotted between these cramped stores are various eateries, cafes, bakeries and bars, many whimsically decorated, just waiting to surprise us as if saying ‘peek-a-boo’! It wasn't long before our stomachs were rumbling, and we chose our breakfast stop. We managed to get roti canai, a flatbread eaten with curry, which was one of my goals for this trip. Jimin tsk-tsked upon hearing that my goals are food instead of attractions, but even he was mesmerised by the sight of the cook twirling the bread dough expertly in the air. “Okay, this is good,” he relents after taking a bite of the savoury bread.

After filling ourselves up, we resume the search for Jimin’s kittens, but I don’t think we managed to get even halfway before we’re reminded that Malaysia is a country that has sunny and rainy days instead of four seasons. And today is definitely sunny. My trusty cap might be protecting my face, but it’s not doing much against the unforgiving heat. “Korea isn’t this hot, even in the summer,” Jimin insists.

“It’s more humid here,” I explain as my eyes rove about the walls, looking for cat paintings. The grey cat surrounded by red fortune cats has been my favourite so far, but Jimin got more excited about the giant depiction of Skippy, the orange cat.

“How come real cats don’t come in this size?” One would think that Jimin’s wish was an adorable one, but I imagined if it came true, and was horrified at the thought.

“They would eat us whole!” Terrified, I eyed the painting up and down, trying to gauge its size. It must be twice as tall as I am. “It would be worse than a tiger!”

Jimin had laughed at my seriousness, but it isn’t long before I’m ready to call it quits, and he’s right behind me. “Summers are probably more bearable in Korea because we’re in the air conditioning most of the time, while we’ve been out in the sun all morning here.” As if granting my wish, I spy blinds hung over a shop with white lettering written across it. A peek underneath tells me that this is probably a café, since I see wooden stools and tables taking up the storefront space. Without hesitation, I grab Jimin’s arm and lead him towards it. I don’t know what sort of store it is, but I know I could use some shade right now.

It turns out that it really is a café, thankfully. Jimin doesn’t need much persuading to agree on grabbing a bite to eat; it’s lunchtime anyway. We snap up some seats inside, where the air conditioning graces us with its mercy. The menu quickly tells us that this place specialises in bagels. Our bagels are perfectly toasty and crunchy after being reheated over a wood fire in an oven, and I take complete delight in the sour kiwi slices coated in honey topping yogurt in an adorable glass jar. Since I don’t eat as much as Jimin, I opt for a lighter salmon and cream cheese bagel. Although I’m doubtful of the bagel’s ability to satisfy Jimin’s appetite, he insists that the bacon and egg served with his bagel is enough to tide him over.

As Jimin inhales his food, then orders more after giving me a sheepish shrug, my attention keeps straying to one corner of the eatery where I watch a group of young girls snapping pictures amidst raucous laughter. Grabbing the opportunity to catch Jimin’s attention when he looks up from his plate, I gesture towards the corner with my chin. “Look, look. We have to take a picture there.”

By the time we’re done, the girls have gone, so I pick up a piece of white chalk on a nearby table to write on the small chalkboard they’d left behind. “Name… Park Jimin.” The texture of the chalk isn’t pleasant to my skin, but I ignore it to fill in Jimin’s height and the date, chuckling when I think about what to write in the last space. “Charge… laughing too much.”

“What?” My best friend states his incredulity as he lets loose the same charming laughter that I’m charging him with. “Laughter brings joy to the world! How could that be a crime?”

“Shh,” I ignore his weak protests, shoving the board into his hands and nudging him against the wall. He guffaws as I lift up my camera and snap pictures of him against a lineup board to take his mugshot. He then declares that he’s good to go for another search for the lost kitties. But it has been a long day, and with our energy already been sapped by yesterday’s journey, the afternoon is spent in more leisurely walks instead, with Jimin quietly indulging my sweet tooth by popping into trendy and yummy cafes instead of religiously keeping an eye out for more murals. I silently appreciate his thoughtfulness but don’t comment on it, knowing that it’ll give him a golden opportunity to tease me for eating so many sweets. Of course, it might just be him wanting to escape the heat without admitting it, even though the sun’s power seems to have diminished as it slips to the west. Yeah, that must be it, I think to myself, refusing to read more into it.

We’ve just exited another café, the bitter taste of coffee tampered by milk and sugar still lingering on our tongues, when Jimin points out something unfamiliar on the road. “Look, what’s that?” It’s a small cart, just big enough so that two people can sit on the seat underneath a grey shade. Behind it is a bicycle with one wheel, attached to the cart to drive the small cart with two more wheels on its side – like a tricycle – forward. I’ve never seen one in Korea, but I do know that this is a mode of transport in several Asian countries.

“It’s a rickshaw,” I tell him, miraculously pulling the name from my memory.

“Huh.” Jimin eyes it with interest. It doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going. “Wanna try riding it?”

At this point, we don’t even know where we are. It has thankfully cooled down now that it’s late afternoon, but my feet are weary from walking so much. Still… My eyes move from the empty cart, where the two of us can sit comfortably and give our feet much needed rest, towards the back, where the driver is sitting. “It would be nice to support his livelihood, but I’d feel bad asking him to bring us around.” I turn to Jimin, unthinkingly placing my heart in my eyes as I entreat him to reconsider.

Taking in the thin, old man resting his forearms on the bicycle handles as he waits for the traffic light to change, Jimin nods his agreement. “You’re right, I can’t in good conscience hire a man at least twice my age to do that.”

So it’s with mixed feelings that I open the map on my phone to determine where we are. When the phone loads, I sigh with relief. We’ve somehow walked all over Georgetown to end up almost next to our next destination, Chowrasta Market, which is in turn a mere 5-minute walk from our hotel. The large three-storey building looks ordinary from afar, but when we get closer, my eyes widen at the selection of goods in the shops on the ground floor. “Oooh.” Lines and lines of pickled fruits and local titbits remind me of some of the stalls in Korean markets. The vibrant colours of the pickled fruits match the packaging of the snacks, making me go crazy trying to decide what to buy.

Sensing that a lot of time is about to be spent choosing snacks, followed by a lot of money traded, leading to him carrying a lot of things, Jimin interjects. “Why don’t we check out the other floors first? That way we don’t have to carry our purchases everywhere.”

“Okay,” I agree readily, but also absent-mindedly, and he has to take me by the hand to lead me further in towards the escalator. The first floor of the market is nowhere near as exciting as the ground floor to me at first glance. There are some clothing stores, which don’t manage to catch mine or Jimin’s interest. However, as we walk towards the back of the building, a familiar musty smell greets my nose, putting me on alert. Even as we walk in its direction, I start to lean forward, trying to get a good look as soon as I can. “Are those… books?”  

They really are. Several tiny stores filled to the brim with second-hand books – so many that we can barely walk between the shelves. Some people may find the air stale and stuffy, but I see it as staunch, ancient guardians protecting hidden treasures. And some of the books are real treasures; with the help of the shopkeepers, we unearth books in every topic under the sun, some of them a little worse for wear, but the newer releases – like the Harry Potter series – look practically brand new. I don’t find any books in Korean, which isn’t surprising, but I do discover a first edition of a title in the Lord of the Rings series. It isn’t in the best condition, sadly, but it makes me wonder what else I could find had I had the time to thoroughly comb the enormous collection of books. We barely made a scratch before Jimin cautions me against bringing home too many things.

Since I know I won’t be able to decide which book to buy, I decide to not get anything. Pangs of regret echo silently within me as we leave, but then I remember that a plethora of food stalls are supposed to line the few streets next to the market. Picking myself up, I grab Jimin’s arms with an excited grin. “Hey, why don’t we walk a bit more to the food stalls?”

“More walking?” Jimin despairs at the thought.

“It’s just a block or two from here.” As we go down the escalator, I pull him towards the exit by his arm, boding no arguments.

“What about the snacks you wanted to buy?” Digging his heels in, Jimin gestures towards the goods in the small shops we’re passing by, desperately attempting to keep further steps at a minimum.

Sadly for him, I already have a plan of action in mind, and there’s nothing he can do to dissuade me. Shaking my head, I explain to him the logical steps that we should take. “We’ll be passing by this place again on our way back to the hotel. We can buy them then.” As an answer to Jimin’s subsequent whine of protest, I tell him, “Shopping on an empty stomach will make you buy more than you should. So we need to get some sustenance before we buy these.”

Jimin may be following my lead out of the market and opposite the direction we came from prior to arriving at the market, but his mouth isn’t about to admit defeat so easily. “How can your stomach still be empty after eating so many sweets??”

It doesn’t alleviate his disbelief when he’s informed that I’m looking for one stall in particular – a famous cendol stall. When his question of “What is that?” is met with my answer of “It’s a local dessert,” he scoffs in incredulity.

However, as soon as we cross to the next block, both Jimin and I are easily distracted by the shops lining the ground floor. At first the t-shirts with Penang’s attractions, including the murals printed on them as well as the colourful clothes draw our attention. As I start to thumb through some trousers with unusual prints hanging on a rack, Jimin ventures inside the shop then quickly calls me over. I suppress a groan. The shops, with their open fronts, are not air-conditioned, and while the temperature has become much more bearable now that the sun is starting to set, I’d rather stay where the wind isn’t just coming from the fans affixed to the walls. But it is worth it. Even though it’s just your typical souvenir – magnets, miniatures of the country’s famous buildings, and other memorabilia – for me it shows what the country’s people are most proud of. An insight to the people’s minds.

There are also bags and purses of different sizes, some bearing similar patterns to the clothes, while some are woven. “Is this what you want, of all things?” Having Jimin’s heavy arm suddenly drop around my shoulder as I examine a beige bag with red square markings makes me grunt and sag a little.

“What’s wrong with wanting this?” To be honest, I don’t actually plan to buy it, but now I’m tempted to, just to be contrary. Jimin really brings out the childish part of me sometimes; a side that I feel is too immature to show others. My head swivels around to stick my tongue out at him for good measure, but then I notice how close his face is to mine. I can just move my head forward a little and kiss him. Alarmed that this thought is the first that comes to mind, I look back down at the bag so quickly I get whiplash.

Jimin doesn’t seem to notice my reaction to his extremely close proximity, because I can feel him shrug nonchalantly at my verbal response. “Mmm, well, if you like it that much, I won’t stop you.” He ruffles my hair affectionately, earning an angrier “Hey!” than I would have normally given him had I not been so flustered, before I saunter back towards the entrance of the shop, right towards the pants that I’d been browsing when he first called me in.

Sensing a possible sale, or, in hindsight, an opportunity to play the responsible cupid, the shopkeeper who has been watching our shenanigans quietly all this while sidles up to me. “That is a good choice, miss. You should ask your boyfriend to buy it for you.” The woman is very young; probably a few years younger than I am, and her speech sounds a little different than Hisyam’s. I sense that she isn’t as fluent as our driver the night before. However, I can understand her perfectly well, and that’s all that matters.

Or perhaps it would have been better if I couldn’t catch her words, because they made me even more agitated. But before I can tell her that Jimin and I are not a couple, she grins brightly and takes my hand in hers, pressing something small into it. “Here, I’ll give you this. Stay safe!”

Curious, I open my hand to see what she has given me accompanied by that suspicious, conspiratorial look. Eyes widening with surprise and hackles raised, I panic; “No no! You–“

“What’s going on?” Jimin walks over, making me shriek in horror and push the condom back into the shopkeeper’s hands then cover them with the bag I’m holding. I’m not sure why I’m so perturbed. It’s not as if I’m the one suggesting that Jimin and I have sex, but damn it, I want to. And I’m deathly afraid that my best friend would somehow figure out my secret, inappropriate desire.

But of course, my startled and over the top reaction only serves to drum up Jimin’s interest. “What are you hiding there?” It isn’t difficult for him to push my hands – and the bag, my only saving grace – away and uncover the little ‘gift’ that the owner thought she’d thoughtfully given to me. What is up with her, anyway?! I thought this is a conservative country! Looking back towards the winking shopkeeper, I decided that she must be a really forward woman, or a foreigner, despite not knowing enough to tell. Either way, the cat’s out of the bag now that Jimin has seen it. Blinking several times blankly at the small packet, Jimin then looks quizzically at me, cocking an eyebrow.

“Oh God.” My mortified groan is muffled by the bag that I’d stuffed my head into, unable to bear the embarrassment.

Needless to say, we don’t buy anything from the shop. The steps we take forward are sluggish and unsteady, just like my emotions. Although Jimin had laughed it off as he’d simply told the shopkeeper that we’re all good the whole time he’d dragged me out of the small shop, his silence now clues me in on the awkwardness that he’s feeling, too. After the row we’d had the night before, I really don’t want this to go on. Must keep my feelings hidden. How hard can it be, right? I’ve done it all these years. No one had ever questioned my friendship with Jimin, so it must have looked easy on the outside. I hope no one would ever find out how torn and beat up I am on the inside.

“Sorry about that,” I broach the incident carefully, wanting to put it behind us instead of making it worse. “She suddenly shoved the… it into my hand.”

“Ah, no worries.” Scratching his head like it doesn’t matter to him, Jimin smiles, but he doesn’t quite look me in the eye. “She must have been desperate to make a sale.”

“That must have been the weirdest tactic I’ve ever seen.” I roll my eyes with a chuckle. Good. This may have started out forced, but it’s sounding more natural to my ears now. Just ignore that the woman had thought that Jimin and I are a couple, and more importantly, how much I want it to be true. We’re really close friends, it’s normal that strangers would think that we’re more than that. Just laugh it off and things will go back to normal. They always do.

Shrugging, Jimin tries to give her some credit. “At least it’s a fresh approach!”

I start to shake my head, but we reach the other end of the building, greeted by the sight of a long line running along the side of the next block, starting at a small, humble stall. “There it is!” I exclaim in excitement, recognising it instantly from the photos I’ve seen online. Jimin’s grunt when I grab his arm to join the line goes ignored, but he doesn’t complain once we’re there, even though I can’t even see the stall from where we’re standing.

Thankfully, the line moves up pretty rapidly. Once we approach the stall, we see why; the green droplet jellies and red beans are already laid out and ready to be scooped into the small bowl with the white coconut milk and brown syrup. The only wait time is caused by the man making shaved ice from the initial blocks with a green machine that takes up almost half their workspace. There isn’t much allowance for chairs and tables by the roadside, so after paying, Jimin and I join the other customers in standing while downing our sweet treat.

“This is sooooo good.” My compliment is backed up by my tilting the remnants of the bowl into my mouth.

“Want to get one more?” Jimin says gamely, and I grin at the offer. Obviously he’d enjoyed it as well, but I shake my head.

“I’d love to, but there are more treats for us to try,” I explain, motioning with my chin away from the direction of the cendol queue. Sure enough, just walking down the road has us stopping every hundred meters or so to check out what this stall or that restaurant had to offer. And not just the local cuisine either! We even come across a Harry Potter café that serves more than just Butterbeer. Penangites sure love their trendy cafes.

It isn’t surprising to hear a local complain over the prices of some of these delectable goodies though. “This much for sotong kangkong?!” A woman about my age gasps after paying the waitress for two plates of some squid dish. I simply listen to her talk to her friends one table away as we skewer our own squid and water spinach, enriched by the dark, savoury sauce that has my taste buds dancing with joy.

Jimin, who is eavesdropping on their conversation too, remarks amusedly, “Looks like we got conned.”

“Not surprising. This place is well known after all. I’m sure they marked up the price since tourists come here a lot,” I muse, unbothered but interested. “It would be nice to have a local show us the good and cheap places. I’m sure there are many that are unknown to us tourists.”

“Hmm,” Jimin hums thoughtfully, but doesn’t say anything else. For a few moments, I watch him in silence, waiting for him to express his train of thought out loud, but he doesn’t continue. By the time we start making our way back to the hotel, we’re so full that the walk is more than welcome. Not as welcome as the stop we make at the Chowrasta Market to buy some snacks – for souvenirs, but I admit to Jimin honestly that I can’t promise that at least half of them might be gone by the time we’re going back to Korea.

The food coma that we fall victim to continues into the late morning the next day, but it’s very well worth it. Both of us sleep so soundly that even the blazing glare of the sun can only make me moan tiredly, trying to shuffle into a better position to continue my slumber. Which is when I come to a realisation that jolts me wide awake.

Jimin’s arms and legs are wrapped around me.

No wonder I feel so snug and warm. It isn’t just all the food breaking down in my stomach. Jimin has hugged me on countless occasions before, but this feels different. More like what a couple would do, while I’ve always thought of our hugs as friendly. Or perhaps I force myself to think that way. I would use all my willpower to make myself pretend that this is the same as well, just for self-preservation. He’s just cuddling me in his sleep after all. It’s not like it’s intentional. Right?

I might have convinced myself, if I didn’t feel a definite, insistent hardness pressing against my butt. Yes, even that is unintentional I’m sure, but my dumb body can’t help reacting to it. Closing my eyes, I stifle another moan – not a sleepy one this time – as I feel how wet I’ve already become in reaction to him.

Against my better judgement, I arch my back, leaning forward and shuffling as subtly as I can into a better position. Tingles that spark like tiny electric shocks when my covered slit comes into contact with Jimin’s clothed morning wood has me stifling a wanton sound of pleasure. I’m not sure if he’s fully hard, but he feels like a good size. Any size would be good, as long as it’s Jimin. My hips rock back and forth, years of depravity leaving me utterly shameless. Unthinking about how wrong it is to take advantage of my unassuming best friend while he’s asleep.

My right hand dives down past the waistband of my shorts and into my panties, seeking the nub that would multiply the pleasure. “Hnn,” I bite my lower lip in an attempt to stop any further sounds from spilling past, while letting my eyelids flutter shut. The better to enjoy this — it is no longer a fantasy I indulge myself in when I’m pleasuring myself. If only I could have more. Deft fingers toy with my clit as I rub my pussy faster against Jimin’s cock. It’s undoubtedly growing bigger. It almost feels like it wants to pierce through the fabric separating us. Even though I’m really just dry humping him, moving by myself, it already feels incredible. What I wouldn’t give to have it inside me, giving my weeping pussy just what it’s craving. If only these fingers were his; flicking the stiffened bud while whispering in my ear, telling me to come for him...

As if answering my obscene prayers, a deep groan from behind startles me into a frozen statue. Belatedly realising the gravity of my actions, I yank my arm up and out of my shorts. Shit, what the hell am I doing??? However, taking a look at my hand; fingers soaked with my arousal, flowing all the way to my wrist, I have to gulp down another wave of desire. No, this is just too risky.

Heart beating deafeningly in my chest, I stay deathly still for a minute or two, hoping that Jimin hasn’t awoken and realised what I was up to. If he has, I don’t even know how to explain myself to him. Hell, I don’t even know how to explain myself to myself. Thankfully, he seems to be in a deep sleep. Even luckier for me, he just loosens his hold on me, turning onto his back with a deep sigh. Like a rabbit sprung free from a trap, I scoot out of the bed as fast as I can without waking him up. Once I climb off the bed, I spin around to look at him, making sure that he really is asleep. His face is positively angelic in his slumber. It would be painful for me to look at it if it wasn’t such a contrast to the tent that his hard-on is making out of the pristine white sheets. Sheets that would no longer remain unsoiled if only he had any interest in having his way with me. They would turn near transparent – if I’m already this wet from brushing against him and touching myself, what state would I be in if Jimin is the one touching me? If he’s the one rubbing against my clit frantically? If there was nothing separating us, if he’s actually inside me, stroking my inner walls with his hard cock? The beddings will be soaked through.

These traitorous thoughts make me whine out loud without thinking. The way I’m looking at him now is no way someone would look at a best friend. No; as much as I’ve convinced myself that I’ve been keeping my emotions in check, I haven’t been looking at Jimin as just a friend for a very long time.

And if he wakes up to find me drooling and mewling for him, there won’t be hiding it any longer. His breathing isn’t the long, calm ones of one in deep slumber. He could wake up anytime. So I hasten to the bathroom, willing my eyes not to stray towards his obvious yet unintentional arousal.

After swiftly divesting myself of my clothes, I hop into the shower, blasting it on full force. Two seconds later, I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep myself from screeching and cursing at the temperature of the water. Somehow I’d managed not only to set it on full force, I had turned it on at the hottest temperature as well.

The cold shower I give myself after hurriedly changing the settings doesn’t do much to clear my mind. My body is crying from rebuffed desire. Clearly this sharing-a-room thing isn’t working out in my favour.

As a compromise to my physical needs that allows most of my pride to remain intact, I turn off the shower and get into the bathtub instead. Reaching for the hose, once again I turn it on full force, but this time only after checking the temperature. Uncaring if it’s shameless to do this when my best friend is asleep on the opposite side of the wall, I open my legs and direct the head between them. The intense pressure of the water hitting my pussy awards me with immediate relief from my pent-up frustration, immediately followed by building pleasure that had been denied from me in the bed just now. Keeping the steady jet continuously hitting my sensitive nub with my left hand, I reach down with my right to trace my slit. It’s completely drenched, and I know that it’s not all from the water coming out of the faucet.

My middle and index fingers slip past my entrance easily. Scooting down the tub to get into a better, lower position with only the upper half of my torso resting against the wall of the tub, I begin to move my fingers in and out of my warm depths. Pretending that it’s Jimin’s cock that I’d felt against my pussy, the memory still fresh, I burn the sensation inside my mind to last me for all time. Soon I’m panting and moaning, though still of sound enough mind to be careful not to utter his name out loud, but unable to stop the aroused sighs that fall out of my mouth at the thought of him doing all of this to me, and more.

The fantasy brings me to a climax in record time with a loud cry that I hope is masked by the sound of running water and thick stained glass. Just in case Jimin is awake, I try to clean myself up as fast as I can. If I’m lucky, maybe he’d still be asleep.

When I step out of the bathroom, he’s still on the four-poster, turned onto his side with his back facing me once more. However, I can see movement underneath the sheets that tells me that he is no longer asleep. Is he… masturbating? Even though it’s covered, I can see his right arm moving rapidly, almost desperately. His breathing is unsteady, just like mine was right before in the bathtub.

A part of me that must be sick and perverted wants to watch him. I stand rooted on the spot with my hand on the doorknob, fascinated, longing to see him pleasure himself. Dying to help him do it. Already my center is reacting again. I’m so ready for him. I’ve been ready for him for so long.

But before I can rationalise continuing to watch my best friend masturbate like a total creep, unthinkingly I release my hand from the door of the bathroom, causing it to close shut with a sharp click. Jimin immediately stills, confirming to me that my suspicions were right. The sound also brings me back to my senses. What should I do now?

In the end, I opt for the safe option, the one that I’ve chosen over and over and over again. Striding past the bed, I greet him as normally as I can. “Hey, wake up, we’ve already wasted half a day just snoozing.”

I���m sure that Jimin is going for a sleepy grunt, but it came out sounding more like a horny groan than anything else to my ears. To keep things from becoming awkward, I pretend not to notice it. Instead, I open the wardrobe in the corner of the room, giving him a chance to hightail it to the bathroom with my back turned to him. He grabs the opportunity readily. As he showers, I dress quickly then let myself out onto the balcony, closing the doors behind me. It’s so much easier to tell myself that he hadn’t heard my shameless moans while I was inside the bathroom if I don’t hear him making them either.

Since he doesn’t comment on it, I assume that he either really didn’t hear me in the bathroom, or that he’d rather not say anything in case I saw him and return the favour. I’m more than happy to just pretend nothing had happened. Especially the fact that I used him to get myself off, although I’m pretty sure he’s oblivious to that. Otherwise I doubt he’d let me go on for as long as I did. Masturbating is something normal, he’d probably spare me the embarrassment even if he hadn’t been caught doing it himself. But using your best friend for your own orgasm is something else entirely.

So, with me neglecting to say anything about sorting out his morning wood – which is completely understandable – and him either not knowing that he wasn’t the only one who got off today, or choosing not to mortify me by saying that he does, the afternoon is spent in peace at Batu Feringghi. It doesn’t cost us much to get a driver to bring us to the long stretch of beach less than half an hour from Georgetown. Going there on a weekday means that we’re spared from the throng of people I’m sure would flock the tranquil strip of sand and sea on weekends. The salty wind is refreshing on my skin; perfect after a proper rest the night before.

Even more perfect than the breeze hitting my face and whipping through my hair is having Jimin by my side, leisurely walking in a more or less straight line marked by the water kissing the sand. We’re close enough that the gentle waves wash over our feet every few seconds, but not too deep into the sea that we’re wet past our ankles. I want to go on like this forever, strolling next to Jimin, feeling like a real couple.

It isn’t long before the blissful walk morphs into a food outing though, as it has always been on this trip, when we spot a stall further up the beach and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows as he asks me if I want to check the food out. He knows me well, so I can see how he immediately thought that’s what I wanted. However, this time, I’d really rather just spend some quality time with him. No words or anything else needed. Just basking in his presence, soaking in the happiness I feel simply by having him here with me. Once we get back to Seoul, we’ll get caught up in the flow of our own lives again. With people we know all around us, we will truly go back to being just best friends. He will get a girlfriend, and I’ll probably find another boyfriend to fill in the emptiness that can never be satiated by anyone other than Jimin. Is it wrong of me to want to continue this make-believe game of being his girlfriend a little bit longer, even if it’s only in my head?

Of course, it’s not as if I can tell Jimin any of this out loud. Plastering a smile on my face instead, I jokingly praise him, “Wow, when did you learn to read my mind?” and start off towards the stall ahead of him. His, “Oy, wait for me!” is met with laughter, but it rings hollow in my ears. I bounce and skip along, but it’s hard to do so and maintain a steady foothold on the ground thanks to the soft sand giving way underneath my feet. My body feels unbalanced, struggling to remain upright despite – or perhaps because – of the jolly movements I’m forcing upon myself, parallel to the emotions I’ve been keeping inside me for so long. Always on the verge of crumbling, threatening to fall into the unknown, even as I put up a front of being Jimin’s happy best friend.

Blinking back tears, I clear my throat as I stop in front of the stall to read the menu. “What is this?” Pointing to a foreign word on the small white board propped in front of me, I ask the young guy, barely a man, manning the stall as Jimin steps up next to me, bumping my shoulder on purpose.

“Oh, uhm…” he looks visibly flustered, eyes moving all over the separated goods on his workspace as he tries to find the words in English to answer my question. He must be taking care of this place for someone. He seems new and a little inexperienced with customers. I feel bad for him, but I still want an answer, so I wait patiently, flashing him an encouraging smile.

Jimin is quick to take pity on him. “Well, all that matters is that it tastes good, right?”

Given an out, the young man breathes a sigh of relief, obviously feeling more at ease. “Miss, pasembur is a mixture of all these things,” he makes a sweeping gesture towards the ingredients laid out on the table in front of him, “covered with peanut sauce. Can you handle a bit of spice?”

Placated by his effort to explain, I lean forward to look at the dry stuff he has sorted out in different containers. Some shredded cucumbers and turnips, bean sprouts, fried tofu and a fried pancake-looking thing that looks crispy. “Yeah, I love spicy food!”

The ingredients just need to be put together in a large plate, and soon Jimin and I are sitting at one of the tables propped up around the stall under a leafy tree. Both of us take the chairs on opposite sides, so we can enjoy the view of the sea as we sip our coconut juice straight from the fruit. Halfway through our afternoon snack, Jimin muses, “I wonder how much weight we’ve put on since we’ve been here?”

His question makes the mouthful I have in my mouth hard to swallow. “Ugh, must you think about that? We’re supposed to enjoy our holiday with no worries!” I wag my fork at him grumpily, reaching for a glass of ice I’d asked from the boy to wash down the food with the cool, melted water.

My chiding rolls off of him like water off a duck’s back. “If I’m going to continue going with you for more food after this, I’m gonna have to make some space,” he says playfully, getting up with a gesture towards the small building that houses restrooms a few hundred meters away.

“Ew!” After sending a chuckling Jimin off by flinging what’s left of the ice in my cup at him, I turn back to the remnants of our food. The peanut sauce is only mildly spicy, but still very enjoyable. We’ve found out that the fried pancake-like thing is actually prawn fritters, but I like the turnip the most. Coupled with the heavier peanut sauce, the juice that flows into my mouth when I bite the turnip provides a refreshing, contrasting taste that reinvigorates my senses. As I try to pick out the turnip strips among the few other toppings left over, a man I haven’t seen before pulls the stool next to mine.

Confused, I give the surroundings a quick glance before turning back to him. Only one other table is occupied. The rest are empty. Even while sitting, I can tell he’s taller than many Malaysians I’ve seen so far. He’s fair-skinned, and although he looks Asian, he doesn’t look quite like a Malaysian – I’ve seen many of the main three races of Malaysians; Malays, Chinese and Indians – and I’m no expert, but there’s something about him that tells me that he’s a tourist, too. “Excuse me, why are you sitting here?”

“So I can take a better look at you, cutes,” he responds arrogantly, turning me off in a split second. Trying to find someone to hook up with on his vacation, I suppose.

Frowning, I pointedly continue spearing one of the small nuggets of the pasembur with my fork, uncaring of what I choose to pop into my mouth in a show of blowing him off. “Well, I don’t care to look at you, so please leave.”

As expected, he’s not going to give up so easily. “I came over ‘cause you look really bored, sitting here alone by yourself. The name’s Charlie. Why don’t you come with me? My room is just over at that hotel,” he points towards one of the ritzy resorts by the beach, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction by looking at it. “I’ll show you a fun time.”

“No, tha–“ I start to turn him down again, but he grabs my hand, uninterested in my response.

“Hey! Ah, uhm…” Before I can put up a struggle to get myself free, we’re stopped by the boy taking care of the stall. From the way his words are coming up in short stutters, it’s clear that he’s scared out of his wits. Yet he’s still standing up to the much bigger man for my sake. “The miss has a boyfriend!”

“Eh?” Charlie looks from the boy to me, then scans the open space. “Where is he then?”

“Uh.” Great. What am I supposed to tell him now?

But before I can think of a reply, he shrugs indifferently. “Just ditch him, then.”

Again, I start to pull away from him, but this time it’s Jimin who stops us in our tracks. “What’s going on here?” His tone is light, but I can sense the undercurrent of what I’ve named the Angry Jimin; the quiet man who speaks in a soft voice, hiding a dangerous persona that can cut a person with one cold look. In all the years I’ve known him, I can probably count the number of times I’ve seen Jimin like this with the fingers on one hand, but the departure from the usual Jimin that I know is so drastic, there’s no mistaking it when he’s truly furious like this. Even though I know that I’m not in the wrong, he has me shaking in my flip-flops.

Charlie, on the other hand, does not recognise the cue signalling that he’s in hot water. “Who are you?” Then, making the same assumption as the boy, “what, are you her boyfriend?”

Afraid of what Jimin might say and its consequences – not just about Charlie, but I selfishly can’t bear to hear him say that he’s not my boyfriend, either – I wrestle away from Charlie’s grip, rushing forward towards Jimin to link my arm around his. “Yeah, he’s my boyfriend.”

My unexpected move confuses Jimin, earning a bewildered expression from him, but Charlie doesn’t seem to care either way. “Tch. Look man, don’t be such a spoilsport. I just want to borrow her for a couple of hours. Or do you wanna come join us too? I hate sharing, but I’m sure we can find someone for you, too. If you don’t mind ‘em ugly,” he laughs nastily, reaching out for me again.

However, Jimin snaps out of his bafflement quickly, and snatches Charlie’s wrist in a firm grip before he can get his hand on me. “Do not touch her.” Jimin’s icy voice intimidates Charlie, I can tell, as the latter hesitates for a moment. But he waves away the warning.

“Aw, c’mon. I–aaaaaaargh!” Charlie’s flippant tone hikes up several notches as his knees buckle, attempting to wrench out of Jimin’s grip, which has tightened so much that his hand is starting to bend at an unnatural angle. Once he manages to get out of it, he backs up several large steps, staying clear out of Jimin’s reach. “What the fuck, man! I thought we were cool! If you’re going to be such a stick about it, you could’ve just said something!”

Now that his switch has been turned on, Jimin is in no mood for any tomfoolery. “I told you not to dare lay a hand on her. Now. Fuck Off.” His words still come out composed and almost unaffected, but his normally smiling eyes now have a malicious glint to them, and even Charlie has learnt his lesson.

We leave the place soon after he does, after I thank the boy for standing up for me. Both Jimin and I know where we’re heading to next; I told him our plans before we headed out a few hours earlier, and I think that we’re walking in the right general direction, but neither of us are checking if we’re going the right way. When the heart is lost, does it matter where the body goes? I’m not sure what’s going on with Jimin, though. He isn’t checking if we’re going the right way, and he doesn’t seem to care, either. I’d ask him what’s bothering him if I wasn’t so preoccupied myself. Having him protect me like that made me ecstatic, even though I was also scared back there. But the aftermath is excruciating. Having him act like he’s my boyfriend, as short-lived as it was, only makes it more painful to face reality. He will be that for another lucky girl, one day, forever. But that girl isn’t going to be me.

While I’m musing on the thoughts that I’ve been burying for ages and plan to do so until the end of time, Jimin isn’t planning on taking the same approach. I should never have worried about asking him what’s wrong – he’s going to address it himself without any prodding from me. “You could’ve just told that ass that your boyfriend is back at home.”

Frayed nerves and a permanently broken heart immediately fuel the ire that rises inside me at his comment. Is that really important? “Do you really think he would have left me alone if I’d said that? He was trying to take off with me even with you there,” I bite off bitterly.

Jimin sighs, unable to argue with the validity of my statement. “I guess that’s true. I just wish I didn’t have to pretend to be your boyfriend to chase him away.”

“Why, is the idea of being my boyfriend that horrible to you?” No, wrong thing to say. I shouldn’t lash out like this. I’m only inviting trouble. But I can’t stop. Jimin might have not done anything wrong, but I still can’t help being resentful towards him for this. I can’t stop hating myself for still being hung up over him. He might not have meant anything hurtful by it, right now and back then, but it doesn’t stop it from eating away at me, turning me into an ugly monster inside.

At least he has enough wits to recognise that he’d put his foot in his mouth. “No, I didn’t mean–“

“Just stop.” I don’t want to hear it. I can’t bear it. His meaning is crystal clear. It always has been. Jimin just doesn’t see me as anything more than a friend. However, if I hear the exact words, I don’t think I can handle it. All of me wants to run far from him, but I can’t do that without appearing even more suspicious than I am now. So I settle for increasing my walking speed just short of a run, surprising Jimin as I leave him behind to cross the road. The few seconds it takes for him to wait for the cars to pass and lengthen his strides to return to my side grants me a bit of time to furiously blink my tears away, clearing my throat. I hope he’d missed the way my voice cracked just now.

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Jimin pulls me to the curb, holding me by the shoulder to face him. “You’ve been acting weird. I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just–“

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” I throw out fake words meant to reassure him, using my phone as an excuse not to look at him. “Just checking the direction for the night market.” My thumb shakes with the rest of me, making it difficult to type, but I will myself to make it steady. I can’t break down now. Not after all this time, in the middle of the road in a foreign country, no less.

“No, you’re not.” It isn’t the same Jimin that had dealt with Charlie earlier, but I can tell that I’m trying his patience. Still, I can’t tell him. If I do, not just this trip; everything will fall apart. And I need Jimin more than I need air. If I can only have him as a friend, then I’ll take it with the heartbreak that comes with it.

“Just let it go. Please, Jimin,” I plead with him, finally tilting my face up towards his concerned one. The annoyance on his face crumbles when he sees the raw agony I know I can no longer hide. My watery eyes that betray a world of pain, even if he doesn’t know why. His hold on me loosens, then releases me, his arms falling limply to his sides. The last thing I want is to see him like this. It’s even worse because I’m the cause. But there’s nothing else I can do. “I’m sorry.”

“If you think it’s best for you, I’d do anything,” Jimin says, not asking for an explanation. “Just know that you can come to me about anything. Anything at all. I would always be there for you.”

I nod appreciatively, thinking to myself that he can’t be the medicine to the disease that he himself has created. “Thank you,” I whisper. We stand like that for a while, ignoring other people walking by us, some peering curiously at two foreigners just frozen there. Wiping my tears as discreetly as I can with him watching, I take a few deep breaths, determined to return to my normal self again – as normal as I can be, anyway – and get this day back on track. It has been a roller coaster so far.

The night market spanning along the main road and beyond are made of countless makeshifts stalls that light up the descending night. I can see just about everything I can think of here – from the standard souvenirs, to traditional clothes and bikinis, knockoff bags and watches, to paintings. Normally I would have soaked up the atmosphere, growing so excited that I’d border on crazy just trying to decide what to buy and ending up with more goods than I could carry, but somehow I can’t quite muster up the energy. It isn’t the fault of the vendors, who are friendly and inviting, but not too pushy. Nor is it because I’m turned off by the prices; although I do notice that things here are a little overpriced compared to some other places I’ve been to so far. As desperate as I am to return things to how it was before, I can’t get over Jimin rejecting me as a girlfriend. If he doesn’t even want to pretend to be my boyfriend, I can only imagine how much of a turn off it is to him to have it become a reality. And while I’ve known all along that this is how he feels, I’ve spent so long denying it to myself as I pretend on the outside that I’m all good with it. Without anyone knowing, I’ve allowed myself to fantasise being his girlfriend for too long. It’s just daydreaming, I’d thought. Just a fantasy. I know what’s real, I’d told myself. But I didn’t realise that it had made me hope that it would someday come true, and to be forced to face reality like that – it left me in a state of shock. Things are even worse, because I’m here with nowhere to run from him.

It certainly doesn’t help matters that many of the vendors assume that we’re a couple. While not surprising, it makes the air feel more awkward between us, and drives the knife deeper into my heart. I don’t need to be reminded that Jimin doesn’t see me as girlfriend material, no matter how much it may seem differently to everyone else. Every “No, no, we’re just friends,” I tell every friendly seller is a cruel admittance to the fact that I’ve been denying since we were young. Like a punishment for thinking that I can one day have more than I deserve. I couldn’t have been more wrong. And this whole day is just full of occurrences driving the point home, over and over and over. I want to cry my heart out in anguish. I want to scream my lungs out in frustration. And I want to run, to the ends of the earth, and fall off to a place where I can hurt no longer.

I’m sure Jimin knows that something isn’t right with me, but he doesn’t say or ask anything. While I really appreciate that he’s giving me space and keeping his distance so I can lick my wounds as best as I can in such a crowded place, a foolish part of me still hopes that he cares. His suggestion that we call it a night and get an early start tomorrow after popping for dinner at a food court wedged among the stalls is a very welcome one. At this point I just want to sleep and forget all this ever happened. The latter might be too much to ask for, but I can’t imagine that some rest would make anything worse than it already is.

 “When I said an early morning, I didn’t mean this!”

Jimin’s whining is ignored, although he doesn’t notice me giggle softly at his dismay. I’m glad that a few hours’ sleep is enough to restore the normalcy between us. At least that’s how it looks on the surface. My own feelings for him, now escalated to an irreversible state, have been repressed back inside me, where they have been kept carefully under lock and key for as long as I’ve realised them. And I tell myself that I’m okay with this. I’ve always known that Jimin will forever be my best friend, and only that. It was just my stupidity that kept embers of hope burning within that it might somehow change. As long as I can extinguish my impossible wishes, I can hold onto what I have – Jimin’s friendship. That is more than enough. It has to be. The alternative is to confront him with the truth, and lose him.

So I choose to maintain this delicate equilibrium. What happened yesterday should never come to pass again. I was careless, foolishly allowing my real feelings to surface. That mistake should never be repeated. Hopefully Jimin would think that I’m just still upset about Se Hoon, and leave it at that. Jimin has never been all that keen on talking too much about my boyfriends. The time we spend together has always been for just the two of us. We may chat about our partners once in a while, just to check in on the other person, but we never delved into it. I never cared to talk about my boyfriends when Jimin is the only one I truly wanted, and perhaps Jimin has never had much to share about his relationships, either. It would just be frustrating if I had to listen to him talk about them, so if he doesn’t say anything, I’ve never asked.

Addressing him from the front on the narrow dirt path, I point out, “It’s not that early, you know,” then yelp as I almost stumble over a root jutting out of the ground.

“Look out!” Relying on his animal-like reflexes, Jimin rushes forward and seizes me by the arms before I tumble to the ground. Wrapped in his arms, his sweat and slightly heavier breathing from the exertion of our exercise should be anything but romantic, but as I look up into his soft eyes, filled with concern, I can hear my heartbeat pounding erratically in my ears, and I know it’s not because we’ve been navigating this leafy terrain over the past half hour. Even in this awkward, uncomfortable position, with most of my body weight resting on him and both of us smelling way less fresh than daisies, I can’t help but notice how inviting his lips look from this close proximity. I’d give my whole fortune to be able to kiss them.

No. I’m letting myself fall into the same trap all over again. Before I do anything I will regret later, I clear my throat and extract myself from his embrace. Jimin lets me go readily. “Sorry,” I mumble to hide both my embarrassment and disappointment.

At first, Jimin looks as stunned as I feel, but my movements and apology snaps him out of it. “I told you that hiking is a bad idea,” he takes the opportunity to chide me for my choice, in the aggravating I-told-you-so manner only a childhood friend can manage. It automatically incites an immature response in me, pulling me away from my years-old worries, if only for a moment.

“It so isn’t! Just wait until we get there. Besides, it’s the perfect way to burn off all the food we ate.” Finishing with a loud huff, I turn around and continue on the narrow trail towards Monkey Beach, a stopping point on our way to the Muka Head lighthouse in Penang National Park.

We arrive at the beach just a little under an hour later. It’s already midmorning, and the sun has begun its work warming the sand and the water. I had my fill of the beach yesterday, and there’s still more hiking to do before we reach the lighthouse, but I can’t resist running my hand through the clear water and then splashing an unsuspecting Jimin who’d crouched down next to me. “Hey!” He scolds me indignantly as I erupt into laughter; my first uninhibited one since only yesterday, but it seems like forever since I’d last felt such unadulterated joy. The world just isn’t right when things are not going well with Jimin. It makes me more determined to keep everything just as they are. A life where I’m on the outs with Jimin just isn’t right.

If either of us thought that going to Monkey Beach was tiring enough, we’re in for an unpleasant surprise. While the trail to the beach was slightly challenging, it was mostly flat. From the beach to the lighthouse is a far less forgiving climb – one that would have knocked me out if I were in a worse shape than I’m in. Jimin, the fitter one of the two of us, insists that we would have gotten to our destination in less than forty minutes if I hadn’t stopped to catch my breath, but I pretend not to hear his annoying remark, choosing to roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at him when his back is turned.

Despite the journey that was more tiring than we’d bargained for, it’s well worth it now that we’re here. The lighthouse is an old one; there’s nothing really remarkable about its appearance. Our climb is really rewarded by the view that we see from the top of the lighthouse. Jimin makes his way up first, then calls out to me excitedly, and I give up on regaining my strength at the bottom of the lighthouse to join him. The narrow walkway surrounding the lighthouse peak offers us a fantastic view of the islands surrounding this one, and we stand there for a while, just taking in the endless stretch of the blue sea, trying to figure out where it meets the azure sky in the horizon.

The climb down from the lighthouse is significantly easier compared to going in the opposite direction, and we find ourselves back at the beach in no time. “Do you know that we can see turtles here?”

“Where?” The possibility of this gets Jimin on his toes at once, excitedly looking around the beach for any stray turtles wandering around. I can’t help but giggle at his enthusiastic response.

“I don’t know. I read that you might see them here. Maybe we’d have a higher chance to see them at one of the other beaches in the park. It’s a nesting place for the turtles, and the season is right about now.” My clarification disappoints him, and his shoulders sagging makes me want to pull him into a tight hug. “Do you want to go there and see if we can find any?”

At first he brightens up at the idea, then looks at me sceptically. “How far is it from here?”

“Uh…” As much as I like playing tour guide, I’m not actually sure of the answer to his question. “A little far, maybe? The way there uses an almost completely different trail, I think.”

That draws an easy response from him; “pass”. By the time we’ve walked all the way back to the park entrance, had a tasty lunch and got back to our hotel to shower, it’s already late in the afternoon. “The day just flew by,” Jimin remarks as we sit in the car, on our way to our next stop.

“I know, right? But this isn’t bad.” We’re on the main road, surrounded by buildings on our left and right, but we must be on the edges of the island, because I can see glimpses of the sea and the reddish-purplish dusky sky as the car zips by the gaps between the buildings. “It’s kind of relaxing when we’re not rushing from one place to another.”

“I wouldn’t call a morning hike relaxing though,” Jimin mumbles under his breath, earning a playful smack on the arm from me.

The easy-going mood and light banter continue even after we get to Straits Quay, a beautiful marina enclosed by a shopping mall. Perhaps too easy-going, as we indulge in some drinks after dinner. Having western food is definitely a departure from the norm after several scrumptious Malaysian meals, but I don’t mind the change very much. Especially now that the alcohol has made its way into my system – losing my inhibitions is making me tap into my repressed emotions more deeply than usual, and it’s confusing me. While I’m happy that Jimin is here with me, I’m also tired and angry at him for rousing my irrepressible hopes once more.

Without thinking, I’ve downed more than I can handle. I’ve belatedly realised that Jimin is keeping a modest pace, not imbibing even half as much as I have, but at that point, I’m beyond caring. “You should slow down a bit,” he warns me, and only then I put my mug down with a sigh, heeding his advice. “You okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” Although I’m starting to feel a little woozy, I still have a bit of wits about me yet.

Jimin stares at me, trying to judge if I’m still of sound mind. He must have been aiming for the delicate balance between loosening my tight lips and inability to think coherently, and I’ve fallen neatly into his trap. “Is everything going well with Se Hoon?”

“Why, do you think there’s trouble in paradise?” My answer is sharp and bitter out of sheer anger and defensiveness, instinctively seeking to protect myself even when I’m not in the best state to do so.

“I’m just concerned. I know you’re pissed because he bailed out of this trip at the last minute, but you seem more… prickly than I thought you would be,” Jimin hedges, expertly opening my precious treasure box of jealously guarded secrets. I’ve always worried that Jimin knows that I’m keeping something from him. He could always tell when there’s something I’d rather not tell him, and he usually manages to make me spill everything out. Everything… but my real feelings for him.

“And whose fault do you think it is?” I ask testily, not thinking that there can be more than one answer to this question.

“Se Hoon?” Jimin’s wrong answer makes me want to slap my forehead. At this point I’m not sure who’s the stupid one; him or me. Of course he would think Se Hoon is behind my irritable behaviour, but should I have clued Jimin in on my troubles in the first place?

“Not any longer.” His clueless answer bursts the balloon of fury blowing up within me, and I deflate in my seat. How can I expect him to put all the pieces together when I’m withholding so much of them from him? Jimin can’t possibly know that I’m hopelessly in love with him. Not when I’ve done everything that I can to hide it from him. But I’m tired of concealing things. I’ve gotten sick of it for a long time, and it has risen stealthily to the surface, slipping through my defences, biding its time until an opportunity comes for it to spill forth. Like right now. “We broke up just before we came here.”

“Oh.” His response is quiet, and I can’t tell if he’s indifferent, or sad for me, or feeling awkward from the sudden news bomb. “So it wasn’t some business thing that made him cancel the trip?”

“It was business, alright. A meeting with his colleague on his bed.” Funny, I should feel more upset about it, but I’m not. Whatever Se Hoon has done during the course of our relationship has never affected me much one way or another. Naturally he did please me and annoy me at times, but nothing he ever did got to me the way Jimin does. It’s the same for all my past relationships. I’m aware of that. But what else can I do but accept these pseudo relationships, since I can’t have the one I truly want?

Jimin’s brows shoot up upon hearing this, then crash down in a frown, accompanied by some colourful curses under his breath as he processes the information. “Sorry about that. Never liked the smarmy guy anyway. You can do way better,” he rattles off the typical sympathetic words that don’t do anything to lift up my spirits. “You could have just told me though,” he mumbles, almost as an afterthought, but I can tell that he’s offended that I kept it from him. Far from making me feel guilty though, his expectations that I share anything about my half-hearted relationships only serves to stab another wound in my already well-punctured heart.

“Guess I don’t want to feel like an even bigger loser in front of the guy who rejected me before I could even tell him how I feel.” A large lump lodges itself in my throat, obstructing my air flow, but the words come out anyway.

“What do you mean?” Leave it to Jimin to be stymied even after being told outright. “Who are you talking about?”

I don’t know what else I would have blabbed to him if a wave of dizziness didn’t strike me right then. Finally, something – alcohol in this case – saves me from my stupidity, even though it was precisely the same thing that led to my foolish confession in the first place. “Whoa!” Jimin reaches out to steady me, almost upsetting the glasses on the table in the process. “Okay, I think we’ve had enough.”

I’m not sure when or how Jimin paid for our drinks, but he must have somehow, because we made it out of the shopping mall and down at the seafront without anyone hounding us to pay the bill.

It’s hard to believe that this beautiful place is this quiet when the night is still young, but I suppose we have the weekday to thank for that. The sea breeze does wonders to whip me awake, and although I remain tipsy and a little unsteady on my feet, I manage to convince Jimin that I’m up to the night-time stroll without any danger of falling into the sea unsupported in no time at all.

The yachts lined up along the marina give the place a luxurious feeling, while the lights from the high-end apartments above the shopping mall illuminate the scene behind us against the darkness of the night and the mysterious sea before us. A white lighthouse marking the end of the yachts is clearly much newer than the one we visited earlier today. What it lacks in character and history, it makes up in pristine beauty, befitting the dreamlike scenery we’ve found ourselves in. While I’m not exactly in a romantic mood that this setting is obviously perfect for, I can still appreciate the atmosphere. Well, as much as I can while focusing on putting one foot in front of the other without losing my balance.

We turn right at the lighthouse, following the wide walkway past white houses surrounded by greenery; surely a picture-perfect setting had we seen it during the day. Lamps glow softly above us as we walk unhurriedly to the end of the straight path, both unwilling for the idyllic time to end. The silence between us is a companionable one. Jimin and I have never felt the need to fill them with idle chatter if we have nothing to say to each other. Or even when we do, sometimes, like we do now. I’m slowly becoming aware of the fact that I have said something I never should have, but I’m still buzzed enough to not care about the consequences.

However, Jimin, the more sensible of the two of us at the moment, isn’t content with letting things be. By the time we turn around to head back towards the shopping mall, I start to feel the weight of the empty air, filled with burning questions on the tip of Jimin’s tongue. In my heart of hearts, I don’t want to do it, but I look at him nevertheless; a silent permission for him to go ahead and say what is on his mind.

“When you were talking about the guy whom you couldn’t confess to, whom did you mean?”

Somehow I just knew that he’s going to zero in on that. “Does it really matter?” I sigh.

“Of course it does! I want to know who is stupid enough to reject you before you could tell him anything.” He pauses, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Of course he doesn’t know. He isn’t even aware that I know what he said, so long ago. Heck, he probably doesn’t even remember – people don’t tend to remember things that aren’t important to them, anyway. I want to snort in derision at his comment. He doesn’t even know that he’s talking about himself.

I shake my head; partly in mild disbelief, but mostly in hopelessness. The events of yesterday had solidified reality and brought me back down to earth. “It’s not gonna happen, so I’m trying not to think about it. Even if it’s just pretend, I just want to feel cherished, by the right guy, for once.”

Jimin stares at me intently, both of us standing so still we could be mistaken for statues but for our hair and garments swaying gently in the calm breeze of the night sea. I can tell that he wants to say something, to offer me words of comfort, but the agony that I’ve suffered for years must be showing on my face. A pain so deep that nothing he can say can make me feel better. Yet I wait. Hanging onto foolish hope that the source of my sickness can provide me with the remedy I need. An eternity passes by, and I know that there’s nothing he can do. So I give up, and step forward, alone. Perhaps this time I really can leave him behind.

But of course, my feet somehow get tangled with each other, and I start to trip. “Whoa!” Jimin’s quick reaction saves me in a very similar fashion to what happened less than an hour earlier, pulling me back against gravity. “Oof!” Like a big oaf, I stumble heavily into his arms, almost causing him to topple over. He manages to stay upright though, leaving me in a very awkward position; a heart-thumping position that I’ve always longed to be in, and also one that is counter-productive to my aim of forgetting him. “You okay?”

“Mmhmm.” I’m not. Intoxicated, the closest I’ve been to outing myself in ages, in dangerous proximity to the man whom I can never have. Carefully, trying not to lose my balance again and to avoid making it look like I’m pushing him away, I extract myself from his embrace. Immediately my body cries out for the warmth of his body. It isn’t that cold, but my desire for his nearness transcends physical needs. Best to get out of this situation before I start daydreaming again. “Can we go back? I’m not feeling so good.”

Without protest Jimin agrees, helping me call for a driver this time, and soon we’re back in our hotel room. We take turns showering, the motions almost feeling like a routine at this point, like we’ve been living together for years instead of this being only the fourth night we’ve shared a room consecutively. Ever since the ride back to the hotel, we haven’t said much to each other beyond short, necessary things, like, “I’ll pay for the ride.” Rather than awkward, the silence is heavy. Jimin seems lost in his thoughts while I’m just trying to clear my head for the most part. When we lay down on the bed together, I’m more aware of his nearness than ever before.

Skin prickling and thoughts all jumbled up, I shift to rest on my side, facing away from him. Perhaps I can try to get some sleep like this, I try to convince myself even though I’m hyperaware of his presence behind me. Why is this so damn hard? Tears well up behind my eyelids at the futility of it all. Jimin is just a guy. Okay, he’s an amazing guy, and the greatest friend anyone can ask for, but he is still just a normal human being. With flaws. He irritates me at times. We get into arguments and fights. So why is it that I can’t let him go? Why do I still pine for him? Why can’t I fall in love with someone else? It’s not like all my past boyfriends were assholes like Se Hoon. There have been decent guys. Nice guys. Men who are just as good as Jimin. Maybe even better. Why am I not with them? Why didn’t those relationships work out?

A wet sob makes its way out involuntarily, inducing one more, then another. I hope Jimin is asleep, so he doesn’t hear me. Slowly, I begin to slip out from under the covers, trying to keep the pitiful noises wedging in my throat contained, at least until I can make my way to the balcony where I can cry my eyes out. However, before I can reach the edge of the bed, Jimin grabs hold of me from behind, pulling me back against his chest. “Shh,” he whispers soothingly into my ear, stroking me softly without demanding an explanation.

His gentle encouragement eases me to let myself go, drawing up the white blanket up to my face, cupping it as I cry in earnest, drenching the quality cloth with my tears. Although Jimin doesn’t know that he’s the cause behind my sadness, it doesn’t make his tender brand of solace any less comforting. For me, Jimin has always been able to evoke the most extreme emotions within; the highest bliss, the deepest pain, the best comfort. And even though I can’t let it go – perhaps I never will – the overwhelming agony eventually subsides. Tendrils of exhaustion begin to creep in on the edges of my consciousness, as they always do after a good cry. My eyes will probably be bloodshot and puffy tomorrow.

After finding a dry spot on the blanket to wipe them, I twist around in Jimin’s arms to face him again. None of the lights are on in the room, but the pinpricks of light from the lamps outside shine dimly through the thin inner curtains that have been drawn over the glass doors, softly illuminating the room like faraway stars. I can make out Jimin’s kind expression as he looks at me, plump lips curled into a tiny smile. “Thank you.” My gratitude comes in a soft voice, even though I can’t return his smile.

“Anytime,” he answers lightly. The arm that was wrapped around me lifts so he can caress the side of my face tenderly with his hand. His touch feels like heaven, and my eyelids flutter shut, wanting to savour and burn this kind warmth into my memory so I can relive it a million times in the future.

When I open them again, my sight is clearer than before, with all the moisture previously clouding them washed away like they have been wiped by the windshield of a car. Jimin looks so close. Over the course of our friendship, I thought I’ve seen all of Jimin, but this is different somehow. He has never looked so attainable. I’ve never wanted him as much as I want him now, right at the cusp of cementing the determination of letting him go forever.

Against my better judgement, I shuffle closer to him, but he doesn’t move away even though he’s now just a hair’s breadth away from me. We’re so close, our breaths are mingling together. His palm is still cradling my cheek. Perhaps I’m deluding myself, but he’s looking at me as if… as if he actually loves me. I’m not sure what came over me, but I lean forward, doing what I’ve always wanted to do but never had the courage to in all the years of knowing him;

I kiss Jimin.

Even though I can feel his surprise from the way his body stiffens and his lips part in astonishment, I keep my eyes squeezed tightly shut, afraid of his reaction now that I’ve taken the plunge. I don’t know what’s possessing me to make such a rash move after holding back for so long, and I’m sure I’ll live to regret it. Either from the embarrassment of being rejected, or from losing Jimin’s friendship. Maybe both. But right at this moment, I don’t care. If I’m never going to have him, the least I can ask for is one kiss, and savour it as much as I can before he pushes me away.

However… he doesn’t do anything of the sort. Quite the opposite, actually. Once he’s gotten over my unexpected move, his arms wrap around me once more, but this isn’t the tender hold meant to comfort me. No, Jimin is squeezing me with a strength that I’m not even aware he possesses, his hand cupping the nape of my neck so he can kiss me more passionately. His tongue teases my bottom lip; not making its way into my mouth, but rather content tracing my lips, as if getting to know every corner of it before going further. It’s like he’s turned the tables on me, leaving me in shock. But not for long. It’s impossible not to react when Jimin’s soft lips are melding into mine, his breaths fanning across my face, the sensations too real for it to be a dream.

It gets even more vivid as his body, much like his mouth, brushes intimately against mine, and I feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire against my stomach. My own body jumps to life immediately. I can feel my blood heating up with need, my leg hugging one of his so I can press my aching pussy against it, and I moan into his throat wantonly. The sound rouses Jimin from his trance, and finally he does what I’d expected him to do from the very start. Sitting up, he breaks the kiss, leaving me disappointed, befuddled and breathless. I hadn’t thought about how I would feel about his reaction – or rather, I didn’t expect that he’d only push me away after reciprocating my kiss, and thus have no clue what to think of it – but his fierce scowl has me trembling in fear. What have I done? Why is he like this?

 “Why did you do that?” Jimin’s voice is rumbling and low, a sure-fire mark of seething anger, and this time I’m on the receiving end. I open my mouth to explain, then close it again. No words will come out. How am I supposed to explain myself? Even if I’m honest with him about my feelings, I already know what his answer will be. While I’ve gone and done the stupidest thing possible, I still can’t bear to hear the rejection from him as he looks straight into my eyes. Seeing that no answer is forthcoming, he bites out, “Do not test me like this.”

He extricates himself from me none too gently, almost kicking my leg off of him so he can get out of the bed. Still trying to gather my wits, I sit up, wanting to call out for him, but he looks back at me, his eyes narrowed in fury as if anticipating what I will do and daring me to do it. I draw back like a frightened deer and let him leave the room. The door closes shut softly, but in the silence of the night following what had transpired, it’s as loud and final as a booming thunderclap in the sky. As much as I want to go after him, I know that’s not a good idea. Especially when I don’t know what to say. What did he mean by testing him? Me kissing him might have been a stupid decision, or even a drunken mistake, but it certainly wasn’t a test. I can’t figure him out. Heck, I can’t even figure myself out.

Even though I should be tired, sleep eludes me tonight. I can’t stop thinking about my unrequited love for Jimin, what happened tonight, the incident that occurred so long ago and all the time in between. With my exhausted body and my overloaded brain wrestling for control, I slip in and out of consciousness several times during the course of the night, but when the darkness is lightened by dawn, I’m still no closer to figuring anything out than I was in the beginning.

Jimin hasn’t returned to the bed, either. A blessing, perhaps, because I can’t face him right now. I’m not sure if I can look at him in the eye ever again. After taking a quick shower, I get dressed and make my way out of the bedroom. As expected, I see him passed out on the sofa in the living room. Guilt hikes up my conscience. I should’ve been the one to take the couch, not him. He hasn’t done anything wrong. But instead of waking him up to tell him to sleep on the bed, I tiptoe out of the room, praying that he wouldn’t wake up.

Yes, I’m running away like the coward I am.

At first I wanted to just leave, but I remember that we’re not in Korea, and my disappearing without notice could cause real panic. So I scribbled a simple note saying, ‘Going out for some fresh air. See you later.’ and left it on the small wooden table next to the couch Jimin was sleeping on before slipping out. It doesn’t diminish my guilt for abandoning him on a trip like this, but it does lessen it somewhat.

Not enough for me to enjoy the time by myself, though. Even though the nasi lemak highly recommended by locals and tourists alike hits all the spicy and yummy levels on the scale, the rich coconut rice accompanied by fried anchovies and peanuts, slices of cucumber, boiled egg and fried chicken – talk about decimating two generations in one go – is only enough to fill my stomach, not my happiness meter. I stay long after my food is gone, sipping the milk tea absent-mindedly until late morning, when I figure some of the touristy places must be open by now.

Using the handy app, I get drivers to take me around a temple and a museum, but as interesting and beautiful as they are, I’m unable to get myself to enjoy them. After ending up walking aimlessly and failing to take anything in, I accept the fact that I’m just wasting my time. Resolving to find a way out, I pop into the first café that I see. With a clear aim in mind, I try to focus, forcing myself to push past the dense fog of self-loathing and denial.

Yet still almost an hour later, I can’t think of anything to say to Jimin. Is there any excuse for acting as moody as I have been, lashing out at him, then getting stupidly drunk and making a move on him like that? On top of that, I even walked out while he was sleeping. He has every right to be royally pissed off at me. Knowing Jimin though, he’s too kind to be mad at me for long. He really is more than I deserve. Looks like I’ll have to be angry at myself for the both of us. And I think that I’m doing the job quite well on my own.

In the end when I pull out my phone, instead of a long explanation that Jimin deserves, I type, ‘Jimin, I’m really, really sorry. I wasn’t in my right mind. Please let me know how I can make it up to you.’

Before I can close the chat, a reply from Jimin appears on the screen. ‘When will you be back?’

I hesitate, wondering which answer would be the right one. Does Jimin want me to come back, or is he so angry that he wishes not to see me, at least for a little while? ‘Do you want me to go back now?’

While waiting for Jimin to type out his answer, I fidget in my seat, belatedly weighing my choice of words. Did I sound like an errant child who is being questioned by her parents about her whereabouts? Or did it sound like a desperate admirer finally being given the time of day? The latter is probably closer to the truth, I laugh deprecatingly at myself. Jimin’s reply, however, doesn’t fall within my expectations;

‘The sooner the better.’

Curiosity filling me to the brim, I quickly make my way back to the hotel. Why on Earth would Jimin want me to come back as soon as I could? Does he not want to do anything touristy by himself? Or does he want to scold me? Or… does he want to continue where we stopped last night? I shake my head in disbelief at my foolish dreams. As if he’d want to do that. Pushing me away and sleeping on the couch made his rejection painfully clear.

Heart threatening to burst out of my chest in anticipation and fear, I pause for a minute to take a deep breath before opening the door to the hotel room that Jimin and I share. “Sorry I–“

“There you are.” Jimin greets me with a smile that has my pulse racing. Memories of last night flood my mind just at the sight of him, but somehow Jimin is acting like nothing had happened. I should be relieved, but for some reason I feel dismayed. Did the kiss mean nothing to him after all? After pushing me away and going so far as to sleep on the couch, I thought my coming onto him had an effect – anger, frustration, befuddlement – something. Anything. I’d risked everything for that kiss. And for a second, I was sure that he’d kissed me back. It doesn’t seem like something that can be swept under a rug. I was expecting a severe scolding. A less sane part of my brain feeds to the hope that he would pull me into his arms and kiss me, just as passionately as we did last night. However, he’s just walking around the room, collecting things as he speaks. It feels anticlimactic.

“Have you had lunch?”

I shake my head. I’ve only had a cup of coffee at the café while I agonised over what to say to him. I haven’t given a thought about lunch. Looks like all that effort was just a waste of time.

“Good. Are you ready to go? Let’s grab some food together,” he says, swiping up keys from the small table where I’d left the note for him this morning.

“Uh, okay,” I reply stupidly, not really being given a choice, as Jimin strides past me to get the door. He is acting slightly weird, but at least he doesn’t seem outwardly angry at me. I’m not sure if this is better, but my instincts tell me to go with the flow, so I follow him out of the building without protest.

“Where are we going?” Instead of waiting at the hotel lobby to call a driver, he leads me to the parking lot next to the hotel. My bewilderment deepens when he presses a button on the set of keys and a silver sedan unlocks with a flash of lights and a friendly beep. “How did you–?”

“Rented it,” Jimin answers simply, opening the passenger door and beckoning me in. In my state of confusion, I thought he wanted me to drive, but then I remember that here the driver’s seat is on the right, not the left. “It’s not that hard to find, and I can just leave the key at the hotel lobby for the owner to collect later.”

“Okay…” It doesn’t really answer the question I have in mind, but I’m not even sure what I want to ask, so I suppose this answer is as good as any.

“Buckle up.” Before I can follow up on his instructions though, he reaches over my seat to pull the seat belt and strap me in. When his body brushes against mine, all the air whooshes out of my lungs, like I’ve been hit in the stomach. He may be able to do it but no, I can’t pretend last night didn’t happen. But I want to remain friends with Jimin more than anything else, so I don’t comment on it, even if I can’t act as nonchalantly as he is.

He has no problem driving on the opposite side, easing out of the parking and making his way down the small alley to join the busy main road with no issues. The only thing that might clue anyone in that he’s not actually from around here is his phone on its holder on the dashboard, displaying the directions to our destination on the navigation app. It says that we will take about forty minutes to get there, but not the actual location we’re headed to. “Where are we going?” I repeat my question from earlier. “Is it too far to get a driver to drive us there?”

“Hmm.” Instead of answering me, Jimin glances at the screen of his phone. “It’ll take us a little under an hour to get there, so I guess it is kind of far, or maybe too expensive?”

“Uh.” I’m not sure what to say to that. How am I supposed to know how much it’ll cost us to get there with a driver, or how far is ‘far’? A question better kept to myself, because I’m sure Jimin would find it ridiculous if I voice it out loud. Why ask when I’ve no idea what I want to get out of it?

“It doesn’t matter, anyway,” Jimin continues, seemingly knowing what I want to say when I don’t even know it myself, as usual. “I’d like to spend some quality time alone with you, just the two of us. It’s not the same when there’s a driver here.”

“Oh... okay.” My dead heart sputters weakly to life, but I tell myself not to read too much into it. Isn’t that what always gets me into trouble and hurts me in the first place? “It does feel a little awkward to chat between the two of us when there’s someone else there.” Yeah, that sounds like what a friend with no romantic feelings would say on the matter.

Laughing, Jimin nods, agreeing with my statement. “I totally get you! Even if we’re not speaking in English, I feel really guilty when we don’t include them in the conversation.”

“It’s the worst when the driver is totally quiet and unfriendly!” Relieved, I catch Jimin’s jovial, cheerful energy and run with it, happy that this car ride isn’t going to be as awkward as I was afraid it would be.

“What about those who play awful music?” Jimin challenges.

“No, no, that’s still not as bad as the ones who don’t play anything and won’t say a word!”

In this vein, we continue merrily all the way along the coastline of the island. “Look, Jimin, there’s an island over there!”

“Hmm?” Taking his eyes off the road for a moment, he briefly looks in the direction I’m pointing at. “Oh, that’s pretty close, isn’t it? I wonder what island it is.”

“Yeah, there’s a ferry making its way over there,” I inform him as I figure out the keywords to type into my phone to find out about the island. “Turns out it was a leprosarium, then became a quarantine station, and then a prison, but now it’s a resort.”

“Yikes, that’s weird.” Jimin cocks his head, unsure whether to laugh or disapprove. His sentiment echoes mine.

“I know, right?” Casting a look at the cluster of buildings I can see from inside the car, I try to reason the decision behind building a resort there. “Maybe there’s something that still draws people to it, even with its history.”

“Maybe.” His concentration back on driving, Jimin simply agrees with my assumption. “Maybe we can check it out next time.”

Next time? Just two words can make my mind race with endless possibilities, but I force myself not to think about them. It’s probably Jimin making polite conversation. I watch him steer the car smoothly out of the exit, gliding onto the spacious bridge that spans out almost ninety degrees away from the island. “You’re really good at this.” Grasping for a topic that would take my mind off his vague invitation to come to the island again, I comment on his superb driving skills on the left side of the road.

“Oh, yeah, it’s not my first time.” Even though he tries to play it off coolly, I can make out the smug smile yanking at the corners of his lips. It’s so easy to make Jimin happy — just a praise and he’d be on cloud nine. Like a cute puppy. I try not to laugh at the imagery. “Several of the countries I’ve been to also drive on this side.”

“Oh... really.” Just like that, the wind is blown right out of my sails. Are these the trips that he’d invited me to, but I couldn’t go either because of work or because I thought that going on one with him would be too much for me to take? Whom did he go with? Were other girls there with him? My jeans are too unforgiving for me to grab, so I clench my fists around nothing; the dull pain of my nails digging into my palm feeling like a punishment I very much deserve. I don’t have the right to ask or even think of any of this. The more I ponder on it, the more pain I’ll put myself through; I know this, I’ve told myself countless times, yet I still can’t stop myself from doing it.

Thankfully, just then, Jimin’s stomach roars past my troubled thoughts. “Have you eaten anything?” I ask him guiltily, remembering that I’d left him to his own devices just this morning.

“Yeah, just something light near the hotel.” He grins sheepishly, his right hand leaving the steering wheel to push his hair back to cover his embarrassment. Somehow he melts my soul with his cuteness when he makes such an expression, and when he concentrates on driving again, he makes my heart thump hard from how cool he’s become. Feeling flustered on my own, I whip my head to the left to turn my attention out the window once again. There isn’t anything out of the ordinary to capture my attention this time, so I’m left to the mercy of my self-deprecating line of thinking until Jimin’s poor stomach rumbles again.

“Maybe we should stop to get something to eat.” Really, I don’t need any more reminders of my childish behaviour from last night to this morning. I don’t know if I can feel any worse than this.

Chuckling apologetically, Jimin reassures me, “It’s fine, we’re going to a place where we can eat.”

Slightly irritated that I have to ask this a third time, I grind out, “and where would that be?”

“You’ll see,” Jimin says teasingly, darkening my mood, but I don’t retaliate — I shouldn’t be cross with him.

“Well, I hope it’s not too far from here.” Giving in, I simply cross my arms petulantly. “If I hear your stomach growling one more time, I’m gonna go deaf.”

As Jimin promised, it’s not too far after we’ve gotten off the bridge. “This is still Penang, you know,” he informs me as he veers left to exit the highway. “It’s not just the island; part of Penang is also on the mainland.”

“Really...” It’s interesting that he’s playing the tour guide now. All the top Penang attractions I saw on the Internet are on the island, so I’d missed this fact. I wonder what Jimin has found that makes it worth driving all the way here. It doesn’t look to be a bustling city like Georgetown. While not exactly rural, the town seems more relaxed, with two-storied shops and houses filling the landscape instead of towering buildings. After only a few turns, we enter an even less developed area, this one a village. Brick houses are mixed with ones made out of wood, with trees growing all over the place, lending the scenery on both sides of the road a more natural appearance, different from the carefully structured planning of the city.

Shortly after, Jimin turns right and pulls over by the side of the road. I peer over the dashboard to see what’s in front of us — it’s a dead end. “Are we here?”

“Yup,” Jimin quips happily, getting out of the car, and I follow suit. It really feels like we’re in the middle of nowhere. Especially since we’re at the end of the road, facing a river with a very narrow bridge that’s only wide enough for pedestrians and motorists to cross, giving the impression that there’s no way out.

However, the small shop on my left at the end of the row catches my attention. I can tell that it’s been there for years and years; there’s an air of homeliness, like it has blended completely with the surroundings, and it’s filled with people. Most of them are much older than Jimin and I — probably around our parents’ age, or maybe even older than that. From their relaxed, casual dressing, they seem to be villagers. A few men are chatting excitedly over white cups of coffee, but the other patrons are all eating, despite it being slightly late for lunch. Jimin and I sit at one of the two tables just beyond the threshold of the shop, which is the only one available. I shift in my seat a little, looking around for a menu. They’re usually displayed somewhere on the wall, or given on the tables, but I don’t see any. “Ah, you’re the one who called earlier, yes?” A middle- aged man comes over to our table, all smiles as he greets us.

“Oh, you remember me?” Jimin’s obvious surprise at being remembered has the man chuckling good-naturedly.

“Of course, we very rarely see foreigners all the way out here,” the man, later introducing himself as the owner, explains to us. “It’s not exactly a touristy place. There’s a university campus close by, and I bet not even half of them know about this restaurant!”

Neither of us know how to respond to that, but the owner seems more than happy with the customers he has. And from the lack of empty tables, I’m guessing this place is actually a local favourite — with the villagers, if not the students of the nearby campus. Small and out of the way it may be, but this restaurant has a certain charm to it. The menu turns out to be very simple; freshwater curry prawns, fried fish with three-flavoured sauce and stir-fried cabbage. We forgo the fish in favour of the prawns, which were caught just this morning, and is the signature dish, as well as the cabbage.

Thanks to the simple and limited menu, our food arrives at our table quickly. The owner recommended that we get bread to accompany our prawns instead of rice, and I’m glad we’d followed his advice. The slices of white bread are perfect for soaking up the curry, and the concentrated flavour married to the sweetness of the fresh prawns is nothing short of bliss. In his state of hunger, Jimin had ordered a daunting kilogram of prawns, and although it takes us a while to finish them, it’s not as gargantuan a task as I was afraid of when I first saw the plate. Washing down the food with some homemade sugar cane juice, I smack my lips happily at Jimin. “How did you find this place?”

“It was just a stroke of luck. I was scrolling through the phone while waiting for you to come back when I saw it.” It might have sounded like Jimin was trying to make me feel guilty if he didn’t say it with a nonchalant shrug and follow it with, “I was hoping to help you take your mind off of things.”

“Oh.” I don’t know what to say. It seems like I haven’t made such a blunder last night as I’d thought I did. He was so angry when he’d pushed me away then, even though he’d reciprocated the kiss for a bit. I’m sure I hadn’t imagined that. What was that all about then? Something tells me that it wouldn’t be a wise decision to ask, as much as I’m dying to find out. The last thing I want to do is to sour the mood once again, after Jimin had gone out of his way to make me feel better. It’s more than I deserve, after the way I’ve treated him. So I decide to just play along, ignoring the stronger feelings and questions burning away at me, like I always do. As long as I can keep being by Jimin’s side. The momentary lapse in judgement last night could have destroyed our friendship, but somehow we’re still here, eating and talking and laughing like nothing had happened. The enormous burden that the fear of losing Jimin had pressed on my chest eases off of it, now that I’m assured that things are back to normal. Although the niggling desire for something more remains there. Always there. “Thanks, Jimin.”

Jimin’s smile at my appreciation is more dazzling than the late afternoon sun behind us. The sight of it cements our friendship, now back to equilibrium. Our passionate kiss is to become a hazy, slightly drunk mistake, and will be swept under the rug to be forgotten forever, except in the innermost secret corner of my heart, where I tuck in the sweetest memories of myself with Jimin. Tiny, insignificant instances that are surely nothing to him, but are the most precious jewels of my life, to be taken out and admired whenever I’m at my lowest and loneliest. Or sometimes even when I’m not. 

A belly full is one of the easiest ways to make Jimin happy; next to praising him, and seeing him happy is definitely the simplest way to make me happy in turn. How can I not be, when presented with those bright giggles that eat up his whole body, always leaving his position on any chair in precarious balance, and scrunching up his face so adorably? Before I get lost in my thoughts of him again, I snap myself out of it by asking, “So, where to next, Mr. Tour Guide?”

My impromptu title for him jolts him into an upright position in his red plastic chair, immediately assuming a serious, business-like mien that has me in stitches. “Ahem,” he glares at me warningly, wanting me to play along. “Looks like we have–“ he takes a peek at his watch “–a bit of time left before dusk. But I think we should go soon.” Indeed, we had been sitting there for way past an hour, and the place is completely empty of other customers now. I wonder if the owner is keeping the shop open for our sake. Clearly Jimin is thinking the same thing, because he thanks the owner profusely as he pays for our meal before we leave the premises.

As Jimin skilfully manoeuvres the car out of the dead end, he playfully manoeuvres his way out of answering my increasingly insistent questions regarding our next destination. His refusal to tell me only digs my hole of curiosity deeper and deeper, however, I can’t help but laugh and wish that he doesn’t give in to my badgering. For Jimin to be this happily secretive; it must be a pleasant surprise, right? Despite myself, I’m starting to really look forward to the unknown evening plans.

Instead of going to the mysterious location, though, he drives us around the small town. As expected, there isn’t much for visitors to be interested in. “There is supposed to be a haunted mansion somewhere in here,” Jimin interrupts his tour-guide-like speech by breaking into an evil grin, the picture of the very devil with the dark orange and red hues of the sky colouring the background behind him. “Wanna go and see it?”

I don’t have to look at the rubber plantation on our left to imagine the horrors that await beyond the rows of rubber trees. “NO!” Finding Jimin’s raucous guffawing grating on my indignity, I pout petulantly at him. “Hmph. You laugh at me, but you don’t want to go either, do you?”

That was effective in getting him to stop. “You got me there.”

“Really, what would you have done if I’d said, ‘let’s go’? I bet you’d pee your pants!”

“No I wouldn’t!” It’s Jimin’s turn to be affronted. I have to bite the inside of my cheeks to keep myself from bursting with laughter. “I’d just say we don’t have enough time to visit it, because I’ve already made other arrangements.”

“Oh, have you now?” Every opportunity to tease him is a chance that cannot be wasted. “And is that really true?”

“No,” he admits unabashedly, drawing chuckles from both of us. Just like Jimin knows I’m not the greatest with ghosts, I’m perfectly aware of how easy it is to scare him. “The house has an interesting story to it though. It’s supposed to have ninety-nine doors.”

“Really?” Scaredy cat I may be, but I always love a good story regardless of the genre. Horror stories are always great – as long as I don’t have to watch, or heaven forbid, experience it myself. “I wonder how big it is, to have that many doors. It’s such a specific number though.”

Jimin shrugs, not knowing the answer to that and seemingly not caring enough to find out. “A witch doctor is supposed to be staying there now.”

“Oh?” Since Jimin has turned the car around, I peer at the trees now on my right, trying to catch a glimpse of the mansion in vain. “I wonder what happened to the owners.”

“Murdered, supposedly.”

With a shiver, I tear my gaze away from the shadows of the trees that had been hypnotically pulling me in. “Okay, let’s stop talking about it. It’s giving me the creeps.”

“Aww, sorry if I scared you.” Letting the car move at a snail’s pace along the empty road, Jimin strokes my hair gently. Normally my instinct would be to swipe his hand away, perhaps with a warning to not treat me like a child. However, his touch is oddly soothing, so I simply sit back in my seat, enjoying the comforting touch. It’s not often that Jimin would treat me as preciously as this. Better set aside my ego and make the most of it.

In no time at all, we’ve arrived at a parking lot next to the river. I don’t see the curry prawn restaurant anywhere, and I wonder if we’re currently on the other side. I’m pretty sure we crossed a bridge at some point. Jimin leads me out of the car and up some narrow steps to a small jetty. Sitting down along one of the edges with our legs hanging over the side, we settle down to gaze at the beautiful sunset. “I was going to book a sunset cruise, but I wasn’t sure if we’d get here in time for that.”

“Sorry,” I apologise again in a small voice. Although it isn’t Jimin’s intention to make me feel bad, I can’t get over my guilt. I’m sure if the tables were turned, I’d be completely livid with him. So to have him treat me this kindly makes me feel doubly worse. “I don’t know what came over me.” At least that’s the truth. After managing to reign my feelings for Jimin in for so long, to have it all spill in the span of one night was beyond careless. It’s unbelievable.

Lucky for me, Jimin remains mostly oblivious to the whole thing. “It’s okay. I’d be out of sorts too,  if my girlfriend did to me what Se Hoon did to you.” Jimin tries to lay his hand on my shoulder, but I move away.

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, I mean, hypothetically.”

“Oh.” My idiocy knows no bounds. I settle down again next to him, trying to play it off like I was just surprised that he had a girlfriend that I didn’t know of. It wouldn’t be the first time that he’s had one, but he had always told me about them. It pained me to listen, every single time, but I did anyway, because in a perverse way, I wanted to know about the girls that Jimin is into. Not that any of it matters. Nothing would change the fact that he isn’t interested in me. Even after everything that had transpired last night; after I’d told him that he’d rejected me before I could even tell him how I feel, after that kiss – especially after that kiss – he still doesn’t realise. That’s how little thought he has given to having me as someone more than just a friend. Zero thought. He just thinks that I’m unstable and vulnerable after a bad breakup and is trying to be a good friend. My wandering hand finds a small pebble on the dusty and less than clean jetty, and throws it into the river with all my might. That’s what I need right now. A good friend. Yeah.

All in all, I suppose I have to be grateful. At least things haven’t become awkward between us. I can even almost enjoy the gradual darkening of the sky as the wisps of colour dissipate into the overwhelming dark blues and blacks. Not far behind us, lights from the building next to the jetty battle against the darkness, illuminating the river and trees beyond. “What’s that place?” I wonder aloud.

“A café,” Jimin replies, catching me by surprise. I didn’t expect him to know. Peering at the two-story building curiously, I see waiters seating some customers at a table on the space on the first floor, which is left open to the elements.

“It looks nice.”

“I’m glad you think so.” There is a note of relief in Jimin’s voice. “I booked a table for us, for dinner later.”

“Didn’t we eat just a few hours ago?” Trust Jimin to want to eat again so soon. I can still taste the thick curry on my tongue as I laugh and shake my head at him.

“No, no, you got it all wrong.” He levels his serious gaze at me. “I believe it’s already been a few hours since we last ate.”

Trying not to spray saliva all over him, I curl my lips down in an effort to hold in my mirth. “Is that why we’re here, then?”

“No, actually we – oh! Speak of the devil.” His words are interrupted as our space is invaded by a man who looks like he hasn’t slept in a year. Despite his tired appearance, he’s still all smiles. “Mr. Jimin?” He inquires.

“Yes, that’s me,” Jimin confirms. “I was starting to worry that you’re not coming.”

“Sorry for being late! My wife was supposed to wake me up from my nap, but then between cooking and our son, I was forgotten.” Jimin and I exchange amused glances. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who thought that the man could do with some sleep. “But that’s okay, since it’s just the two of you today, I’d say we’re right on time. Let’s go.”

“Go where?” I whisper to Jimin as the man leads us down the jetty and into a boat, which can easily accommodate at least six people, but will apparently only bring the three of us tonight.

“You’ll see,” Jimin sits next to me and squeezes my hand, determined to not give anything away. If I was told that I’d be getting in a small boat with a stranger in the middle of nowhere, shrouded by the cloak of darkness a few days ago, I’d be alarmed. However, Jimin’s presence changes the experience into an exciting, mysterious adventure.

And we’re off.

The boat glides away from the jetty and the lights of the café, further and further into the ghostly arms of the shadows, barely making any noise. Soon, the river widens, and we can no longer see any signs of civilisation. Only the moon, a whisper away from being full, and the glinting stars offer any glowing relief to the endless blackness, made even darker by the trees lining the riverbank. “These are mangrove trees, called berembang,” our tour guide gestures to the crowding trees clustered together, shielding everything on land from view. I doubt I would be able to see anything but branches and leaves even if we came during the day.

But we’re here at night, and a different sight awaits us.

Our guide steers us close to the riverbank, and stops the boat. “Anytime now,” he informs us cryptically, and I take a look around. What are we supposed to see? With the meagre illumination from the moon and the stars, most of the trees remain in eerie shadows. I silently hope that we’re not on some ghost-hunting expedition. For a split second, I feel panic rising within, but then I remember that there’s no way Jimin would want to go for such an experience either.

Then I see it. A blinking light, so soft and unworldly that I thought I’m seeing things. Before I can pull on Jimin’s shirt to ask him if he saw what I’d seen, I see another small, flickering glow. And another. And another. Suddenly we’re surrounded by them; tiny lights that shine brightly, suddenly from seemingly random locations, making the trees around us glitter like Christmas trees. “Wow!” I whisper in awe.

“Fireflies,” Jimin breathes into my ear, his hushed tone pulling me in against him, unthinkingly wanting to be close to him in such a magical world that we’ve been suspended in. Their light joins the reflection of the stars in the river. Our very own stars on earth. With Jimin’s arm holding me tightly and the ethereal scenery all around us, it’s hard to tell if I’m awake or if I’m  in the most amazing dream I’ve ever had. The same gentle light from the fireflies that juxtaposes with the inky blackness of the night also casts an angelic glow over Jimin’s features, taking my breath away. There’s something in the atmosphere that makes me feel closer to him than usual, and that makes the whole experience even more dreamlike. My hand stretches out to touch the marvels of nature, but even if I can reach them, I can’t bear to actually brush against them for fear of hurting such minute, wondrous creatures, or bring myself back to the real world. So we watch them in silence for a while, until the tour guide breaks the moment by asking if we’re ready to go back.

It feels like time has stopped while we were on our journey, but in reality, only about an hour has passed. Part of me wanted to stay there forever, surrounded by glimmering lights, where real life feels so far away. To be with Jimin, just the two of us. The lights from the café next to the jetty, while not exceptionally bright, are jarring in comparison to the gentle twinkling of the fireflies. I almost refuse to get off the boat. However, all good things must come to an end, and I let Jimin help me out of the boat and lead me to the café.

“Are you hungry?” He asks after we’re seated at one of the tables on the open first floor.

“Mmm, not really,” I muse as I thumb through the menu. Majority of the food here is of the western variety, and although I do enjoy it, I’m still full of the prawn from earlier. Mostly I’m eager to hold on to the memories of the boat ride. Irrationally, I’m afraid that having a meal would distract me and cause the warmth of Jimin’s embrace as well as the magic of the fireflies to slip through my fingers.

“Neither am I,” Jimin sighs with regret, clearly wishing that he could fit some more food into his stomach. With an eye roll, I tell him that I’m not surprised – he ate the lion’s share of the prawns, and there was way more than what two people could normally eat. “Maybe we can share a cake.”

“Ooooh, cake!” His suggestion is met with enthusiasm on my part. Although I’m loathe to share my dessert with anyone, Jimin is – a very, very occasional – exception, and my stomach is panicking at the thought of being stuffed with more food, so I relent. The burnt cheesecake we choose makes me regret having to share a little. It’s downright heavenly; I can probably eat all the slices available if I don’t mind the button of my jeans popping right off. Thankfully, Jimin is fuller than I am, and gives up after about two small bites. “Are you sure you don’t want any more?” This is a treat that warrants opening up that extra stomach I know we all have for dessert, but at the same time, I slyly hope that he doesn’t take me up on my offer.

Shaking his head, he gestures for me to finish it. Quick as lightning, I pull the plate towards my side of the table gleefully. Now that I don’t have to share it with anyone, I can take my time to savour it. In my excitement, I don’t sense Jimin’s intent gaze on me until I’m about halfway through the slice. Realising that I must look like a complete and utter glutton, I pause and smile at him sheepishly, trying to wipe off any crumbs as inconspicuously as I can. Trying to cover my embarrassment, my mind races for something to say. “Thank you for such a great day.” I can’t believe I didn’t think about telling him this until now. He must have put a lot of thought into this, and at the last minute, too.

Those words bring the most tender expression I’ve ever seen grace Jimin’s face. My breath stills for a moment to give my brain a chance to process and commit the sight to memory. “Everyone needs to feel loved once in a while, right?” This is the first time I’ve heard him say such a thing so seriously, without it sounding like an off-handed comment. He always makes these sort of statements like it’s an insignificant matter, sometimes literally waving the words away with his hand in the air as he says them. However, the look in his eyes is intense, as if I’m the only thing he can see. It helps his words come across — I do feel very loved. Maybe not in the way I’m hoping from him, but loved nevertheless. At least that’s what I think, until he continues, “And if I could, I want to cherish you always.”

This is the problem I have with Jimin. Biting my tongue to keep from asking him to elaborate his statement, I try to not get my hopes up. He’s forever uttering things that make me feel special, while I know he doesn’t mean anything by them. His rejection from years ago is as clear in my mind as if it happened yesterday. Yet to this day I still can’t get over him, even after being forced to hear the bitter truth ages ago. “Thanks.” Lowering my gaze towards my plate to hide my tears, I stab at the cake. Suddenly the delicious dessert doesn’t look so appealing anymore. “You don’t need to go this far just because you feel bad for me though. I’m a big girl. I can handle a breakup or two.”

My statement, heavily injected with denial, is met with complete silence. Nervously, I lift my head, chancing a glance at him out of curiosity. His soft features have been rearranged to one of... anger? Frustration? He’s taking deep breaths, as if to calm himself down. At the moment, he’s about to burst into a tirade, which occasionally happens when I do something stupid that warrants a scolding from him. But this time, for some reason, he’s trying to hold it in. While I’ve never relished being reprimanded like a child, no matter how much I deserve it, funnily enough, I find myself eager to find out what he’s trying so hard to keep in. “I didn’t do any of this because I feel bad for you,” he grinds out between his teeth — even after cooling down somewhat, he’s unable to completely contain his vexation. If this is his tempered down version, what had he originally meant to say? “It’s only because you’ve broken up that I can do this. I’ve always wanted to indulge you. All the time if I could, but you’ve always had a boyfriend, haven’t you? I didn’t want to cause trouble.”

Okay, this is seriously maddening. How am I supposed to get over him when he frequently sends mixed signals through his words and actions? Sometimes I really want to grab him by the shoulders, shake him hard and demand him to treat me like a friend since he only sees me as one. I like to tell myself that he treats me differently than his other female friends when I watch him interact with them, but I cannot convince myself that this is true. I know I can’t look at them objectively. What if I’m fantasising by myself, fancying that he treats me better, when in reality he behaves similarly towards everyone, and I’m just seeing him with rose-tinted lenses? I really hate myself when I’m like this. When it comes to Jimin, my logic lays down the hard truth mercilessly, but my wishful side can never fully accept it, encouraging me to indulge in useless visions of us together. 

Out of reflex more than anything else, I laugh self-deprecatingly. If imagining being with Jimin would bring me the most pain, then I’ll just focus on everything else. Even if that may hurt me as well. Nothing can be as bad as being rejected by him. And thanks to my brain reminding me that he doesn’t want me everytime I fantasise about us, I’ve felt the pain of rejection again and again, even if it’s all replayed memories in my own head. “Being single sucks,” I try to make it out as a joke, stabbing at the cake, picturing Se Hoon’s face there and maiming him repeatedly. It’s nowhere near as satisfying as it would be to do it to the real thing. He’s the reason Jimin is here now, so close to me for such a long duration while I’m single and vulnerable. Fucking Se Hoon. “It just reminds me that I’m not good enough for the guy I really want.”

“That guy must be the stupidest person on Earth,” Jimin quips loyally at once. I keep my head down so he doesn’t see me roll my eyes at his ignorant statement. How can he be so dense? The most devastating moment of my life, doled out by the person I love most, my best friend, and he doesn’t even remember that he was the one who’d said that.

Jimin and I have known each other since we were in kindergarten, but I have no idea how long it has been since I fell in love with him. It’s just one of those emotions that builds up gradually, so subtly that you don’t notice until one day; BAM! You realise that you love him and there’s no turning back. But even back then, before the rejection,  we’d grown really close, and I wasn’t sure if it was wise to jeopardise our friendship by coming clean about my romantic feelings for him.

It turned out that my hesitation was for the best, because Jimin made his feelings for me crystal clear in our second year of high school. He doesn’t know that I’m aware of it, though, since I’d heard my name being mentioned by one of his friends as I was approaching, and quietly hid against the wall around the corner to eavesdrop on their conversation.

Jimin’s then-new-girlfriend was with the group, being harassed by one of his friends, Ji Woo. Although I can’t remember who she was, or even her face, I do remember feeling some satisfaction over the fact that Jimin’s friends didn’t like her. It was a feeling that I shared. “I’m surprised you’re with her, Jimin,” Ji Woo had commented, not at all caring that she was right there with them. “When there’s already a perfect girl for you.”

“Really?” Jimin had pressed the button on the vending machine, and I’d heard the loud clanking sound of his drink being dropped into the hatch. “And who is it? Must have walked right by me.”

“He means your best friend, you dumbass,” another one of Jimin’s friends, Ha Rim, had filled him in. His then-girlfriend had made an outraged sound at hearing Jimin’s friends promote me to replace her, but no one other than Jimin seemed to pay her any attention. They were acting like only thin air was present where she stood, which was a good indication of how annoying she was. I never understood what Jimin had seen in her. True, she was extremely pretty, but other than that, she had no redeeming qualities. Peeking out of my corner, I’d seen Jimin rub her shoulder placatingly as he’d chuckled.

He’d said my name in a disbelieving tone, as if the idea of me being his girlfriend was so ridiculous that it was out of this world. The way he’d said it echoed in my mind for many weeks after that. I could still hear it in my head sometimes. “She’s one of us, yeah? You don’t fuck a bro, that’s gross.”

“I don’t know if she’d appreciate you treating her like one of the ‘bros’, Jimin,” Ha Rim had rebuked him gently, but it didn’t change Jimin’s mind. He’d just shrugged, not willing to get into an argument with them.

“Whatever it is, she’s just not girlfriend material.”

I hadn’t stayed to hear anything else after that, since I’d fled from the scene, afraid that my sobs would break out and they would discover me. Since then I’d done everything I could think of to get over him, but nothing had worked. All my boyfriends were just distractions, temporary fixes to the gaping hole in my heart that could never be filled.

“How I wish he knew that,” I say cryptically. A savage laugh bubbles up my throat, hearing Jimin unknowingly call himself stupid, but I refrain myself. My rage over his befuddling attitude still manages to sour the delectable dessert, and I shove down the rest of it. Before the day is completely ruined, it’s better if we return to the hotel. 

Being the dense dummy that he is, Jimin doesn’t notice that anything’s amiss, and we get into the car to drive back without incident. The bridge back to the island isn’t too far off from the small town and soon we’re on it once more. “There’s another bridge connecting the island to the mainland, you know,” Jimin breaks the more-or-less comfortable silence with this little tidbit of information.

“I know. You can see it from this bridge.” It makes me look to my right, past Jimin in the direction of the first bridge, just to double-check if I can see it from here. I’m sure I saw it during the day, but it’s a completely different scene now that it’s nighttime. The orange lamps overhead lighting our way along the second bridge are dull, but the same ones appear romantic and beautiful after a stretch of darkness in between the two bridges, illuminating the first bridge. Is the view of the second bridge just as pretty if we were to look at it from the first one? I’m not sure, but I’m content with enjoying the view from here.

“Then do you know that this is the longest bridge in Malaysia?” Jimin’s voice draws my eyes back from the distance to the man being outlined by the scenery I’ve been staring at. Unlike the flickering glow of the fireflies, the bulbs shine relentlessly from afar, never giving up on irradiating Jimin’s face. While not quite the same view, these lights make him look just as dazzling as he had in the boat. A halo of soft backlight, juxtaposing against the night to bathe him in their radiance.

Although I’ve been staring at him like an idiot, or perhaps because I’m proving myself a veritable one, only when he calls my name does it dawn on me that we’re having a conversation. Well, sort of. I’m not really in a chatty mood, but he has been making stabs at sparking up a discussion. “Uh,” I grunt without thinking, then mentally hit myself for pushing myself further down the ‘being a dummy’ road.

“What does that mean?” Jimin laughs, sparing me a quick glance before turning his focus back on the road. The windsocks are blowing merrily in a perpendicular direction to the mostly straight lanes, and Jimin is taking care not to drive too fast. It’s hard for me to ensure that we’re not speeding when there are hardly any cars around to compare our speed to. I can almost believe that Jimin and I are the only ones in this world, on a never-ending road surrounded by the sea. “Do you know or not?”

“No.” My eyes shift away as I answer, since I have no idea what I don’t know. Which is a fair answer – either I didn’t hear what he’d asked me, or I simply got distracted and forgot. Both sounds highly likely. Sensing a risk of him further probing me on whatever topic it is and figuring out that I haven’t been paying attention, I roll down the car window, hoping some fresh air will clear my mind.

Boy, is that a wrong decision. A strong, unrelenting gust of wind immediately blasts into the car. Jimin’s surprised yelp is barely heard over the loud howl from the sea, exacerbated by the speed we’re going at. Before the window has even reached halfway down, I pull the tiny lever the other way, quickly closing it back up.

“What was that?” As soon as soothing quiet fills the car again, Jimin demands to know the reason behind my inexplicable actions. While he doesn’t sound angry, it’s obvious that he’s genuinely concerned. I can’t blame him, after everything that’s been happening since last night. “You’ve been acting really weird.”

My reflection on the window on my side of the car shows a frowning woman with mussed hair chewing nervously on her bottom lip, brows fused together in confusion and frustration. “I feel out of it. But I’m not sure why.” This much is true. After suppressing my feelings for Jimin successfully since I was in school, why are they surfacing now? If I’ve known that we will never end up together for just as long, why is the pain becoming unbearable now? How can one kiss cause my world to implode? The emotional roller coaster has wrung me out and left me completely bewildered. Everything is so jumbled up inside my head that I’m not even sure where to even begin unravelling the mess.

At first Jimin doesn’t respond, which is understandable. I wouldn’t know what to say to such a vague statement either. We eventually reach the other end of the bridge. The scenery morphs from a dreamy wonderland to cold reality, with factories lining up the side of the road, replacing the endless sea. “Who’s that guy?”

“What guy?” This time I’m sure I haven’t been wrapped in my own thoughts, yet I still can’t make the head or tail of whatever Jimin is asking. Maybe I’ve lost all my wits for the second night in a row, even though this time there isn’t a drop of alcohol in me.

“The one that you want,” he clarifies bluntly.

What am I supposed to answer? ‘It’s you, stupid’?

Not wanting to make the rest of the ride more awkward than it is, I shrug. “Just a guy.” Just the kindest, perfect, heart-warming, densest guy.

Up until he parks the car next to the hotel, Jimin attempts to wear down my defenses, unwilling to leave his curiosity unsatisfied since I don’t fly off the handle or directly ask him to stop. Truthfully, the urge to tell him is becoming stronger by the minute. The dam holding my feelings back has become strained without my noticing. Just one more drop of persuasion threatens to loosen my tongue.

After making sure that I’ve gotten out of the car safely and closed the door, he locks the car. However, when he starts walking towards the hotel, I follow him at a much slower pace, lagging behind. Alternating between looking at the ground and his lean back. It doesn’t take long for him to notice that I’m getting farther and farther away from him; my slowing and fainting footsteps are a giveaway. Unsurprisingly, he turns back, wanting to return for me. However, his approach only heightens my nervousness. “Do you really want to know who he is?” I blurt out when he’s about a meter away from me. If he gets any closer, I don’t think I’ll be able to gather the courage to say it.

Thankfully, he stops at my question. Sensing my vulnerability. Like a bewildered, terrified animal, wary of anyone getting closer. “Of course, if you’re okay with sharing with me.”

Before I can change my mind or rethink my decision, I take the plunge. “It’s you.”

“Huh?” Why is he acting shocked? I think angrily, unfairly. He has no right to be surprised by this. This is not supposed to be news to him. “I’m the one? That you’re not good enough for?”

“It’s you, Jimin. You’re the one I want to be with.” Damn it, my voice is already cracking. But now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. All the things I’ve bottled up inside have become hot and angry from the constantly added pressure of being kept secret for so long. At this point, I might hate myself more than I love him. I hate myself because I still love him. “Isn’t it laughable? Even though you already made it clear that I’m not good enough for you from the beginning, I still can’t move on.”

Horrified by the words rushing like waterfall from my mouth, I try to escape, but Jimin catches my arm as I stride past him. I would have stumbled if his grip wasn’t so strong. In contrast to his strength, the street lamp is enough for me to see that all colour has drained from his face. “I would have never said such a thing. When did I say that?” His challenging words come out in an intense whisper, like he can’t believe he ever did such a thing and yet unsure if he hadn’t.

“I don’t know. High school, maybe?” It’s too late but I still play it off as if it isn’t a big deal. Like I don’t remember every detail of that excruciating incident vividly. “I’m not girlfriend material, and you made sure Ji Woo and Ha Rim know that too. And.. someone-or-other girl. Whoever it was you were dating back then. Can’t remember her name.”

I didn’t think it was possible for Jimin to grow paler, but he does, and his hold on me loosens as well. Not wanting to hear an insincere apology years too late, or worse, an encore of how I’m not girlfriend material, I yank myself out of his grasp and practically run into the safety of the building.

Once I’m ensconced in the relative safety of our room, I sit on the edge of the bed and take three deep breaths before panicking. What have I done?! It doesn’t look like Jimin pursued me inside, but he’s going to come in sooner or later. What will I say to him then? How will I ever face him again?

Sighing, I let my body slump dejectedly. I shouldn’t have said anything. Ever. I’ve always known that, but all the pent-up emotions have accumulated for far too long, and under constant continuous stress on this trip, they finally spilled over. And I had to choose the worst time and place to do it — in a foreign country where I have no place to run to. Just as I’m berating myself for that particular bit of foolishness, I hear the outside door to our room open and close. Belatedly realising that I should have searched for a place to hide before agonising over my recent mistakes, I get into a frenzy, whipping my head around every which way, desperately looking for a hole to crawl into.

That’s how Jimin finds me with my arms stretched wide, holding the doors to the wardrobe open, and one of my legs inside the furniture. “Uh.” Not the first time a dumb monosyllable is all I can think of today, but still, way to go.

“What are you doing?” Seeing my crazy antics, Jimin’s tortured expression rearranges into a befuddled one.

“Uhm, nothing.” Climbing out of the furniture, I pretend that I walk out of closets every day of my life. It doesn’t help ease the awkwardness after I close the doors and lean on them, though. I don’t trust myself to not say any more stupid things, and it looks like Jimin doesn’t know what to say either. But he does have something to say, if the way he opens his mouth, pauses, then closes it again is any indication. Seeing this, I keep quiet, waiting for him to figure out where to start. I’m not sure if I’m going to like anything he has to say, but short of jumping out of the balcony, I don’t see any way to escape from him. I cast a longing gaze at the door leading to it, wondering if it’s at all possible.

After what feels like an eternity, Jimin hesitantly hedges, “Uhm, can we… talk?”

I nod, still not trusting my verbal communication skills.

Jimin walks further into the room to take a seat at the edge of the bed, less than two meters from the wardrobe, and I have to fight the urge to distance myself from him. He inhales deeply, loud enough for me to hear, and finally starts. “Look, I’m really sorry about what I said back then. I didn’t even remember that it happened.”

“Of course you didn’t. It didn’t happen to you,” I bite out. Even though I can see that he’s beating himself up over it, I can’t help but drive the nail a little deeper. It has been a wound that has always festered under the surface, never healing.

“You’re right.” Jimin’s ready admission makes me feel slightly bad for being mean over it. “I have no excuse. It was a horrible thing to say. And it wasn’t true at all.”

“It wasn’t?” Damn it, I’m not supposed to be happy about it! Getting my hopes up over just a few vague words is only going to screw me over again, but I can’t stop myself from being elated. Did I mishear him? Did I misunderstand him somehow? So many lessons and I clearly haven’t learnt anything at all.

With a shake of his head, he explains; “Back then I was a dumb kid with raging hormones, and all I could think about was fucking everything that moved. Heh.” He lowers his head and scratches the back of it sheepishly, aware of how immature and shallow he was. Involuntarily, I soften at his words and actions, with his hair getting messy from his vigorous haphazard brushing. “You’ve never been someone that I want to simply fool around with. I might not have been smart enough to realise how special you are back then, but I knew that much. I must have said that to get that girl to go out with me. You, not being good enough for me – that’s ridiculous. If anything, I’m not good enough for you.”

“Oh.” Despite wishing for something like this, now that it has become reality, I can hardly believe it. “So me not being girlfriend material–“

“Was not true at all.” Jimin leans forward to take my right hand, securing it in both of his. He turns up his eyes at me, silently pleading for me to understand. To forgive him. And my defences against Jimin have always been paper-thin. “Is still not true. God.” He hangs his head again in defeat, slightly pulling me towards him as he sags against the bed. “It can’t be more opposite than that. You’re the one I’ve been in love with for the longest time.”

“What?” I try to breathe, but the air is lost somewhere in my lungs.

Instead of answering, Jimin stands up. The sudden movement startles me, especially as it puts him just inches away from me. The warmth is not just from our connected hands now, but I can feel it radiating from his whole body in the coolness of the air-conditioned room. His words coupled with his nearness make me even hotter – probably even more than the scorching outdoors in Penang during the day. When he reaches up to softly caress the side of my face, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear, I can’t be sure that I haven’t self-combusted. “You’ve become more than my best friend for ages. I might have even loved you since we were in school. Hell, I don’t know.” Taking another step forward, he closes the little distance left between us to lean his head against my shoulder. Facing this completely unexpected progress, I stand there stiffly, not knowing what else to do except trying not to lose my head. “I wanted to tell you so many times, but you’ve always had a boyfriend hanging around. Every time I swore I’d tell you once you broke up, but before I could work up the courage to say anything you’ve already found a new one. You never considered me, so I thought you just didn’t think of me that way. I guess I know why now.” Lifting his head, he stares into my eyes earnestly. I can’t look away even if I wanted to. His face is etched with regret, and yet I can see hope buried in his eyes. It mirrors the hope I’ve always felt. I just didn’t know that he felt the same way. “I’m really sorry for being a dick.”

A bubble of horrified laughter bursts out at hearing him describe himself as such. Trust Jimin to mend my bruised heart so easily, and break such a heavy moment by sort-of-playfully bashing himself. He deserves it, but now knowing that I’ve put him through similar anguish, I can’t stay mad at him for long. “It’s okay,” I say with a teary smile.

“Well, the cat’s out of the bag now. I love you.” He cocks his head, then asks, “You’re single now, right?”

Another string of gleeful laughter fills the room. “I am,” I confirm.

“Would you do me the honour of being my girlfriend, then?”

“I would.”

“Finally,” he sighs in relief, and my next round of giggles is lost somewhere between our lips as Jimin kisses me. If our first kiss was incredible, this one is a hundred times better. With no more doubts plaguing my mind, I can give all of myself into my love for Jimin. Just as he’s giving to me. At first he cups my face in his hands, tilting his head to deepen our kiss. In the hazy air of passion, it’s unclear who started to open up beyond the joining of our lips. I know he traced the line between my lips at some point, but I also sucked on his full bottom lip that has always, always caught my attention. Among his many flattering features, it’s the one that has always struck me as striking. A guy shouldn’t have such seductive, plump lips that no woman can resist.

Soon his hand is pressing me to him from the nape of my neck, like I’m not close enough to him. He needs to bring me closer. Our tongues dance with each other, within our mouths like they’re dark, dangerous ballrooms, before things get more intense, and these caverns morph into wet, sweaty arenas, where we wrestle out our lust. In a match that is a win-win for both players, where the energy only heightens, never ending. The palm covering my cheek moves so his arm can wrap against my waist, crushing me against him. Every part of my body is touching his, sending tremors of excitement from outside in. I huff against his mouth, out of breath, but past caring. I just want Jimin. More of him. All of him. And then some more.

From the looks of things, Jimin doesn’t want to let me go either. A tell-tale bulge is impossible to miss, but when I feel it pressing against me, a modicum of sense nudges against my muggy brain. Regretfully breaking the kiss, I pant out, “We should… take… a shower,” in between fighting my lungs for air.

Jimin’s groan ends in a whine that usually gets him what he wants. “Do we have to?”

“We should. I’m all sweaty.” Being outside most of the day has left me sticky. It’s one of those things that you can’t forget or ignore once you’ve noticed it, and I’m starting to feel uncomfortable. What’s going to transpire between Jimin and I is a no-brainer, and I don’t want my first time with him to be when I’m smelling of sweat.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to sweat either way.” Unwilling to stop for something as trivial as cleaning up when we’re bound to get dirty again, Jimin slips his hand under my shirt, attempting to get me to agree with him.

However, I will not be deterred, even if my moan at his palm stroking the side of my body doesn’t sound very convincing. “Please, Jimin. It would make me feel better.”

This time Jimin’s groan is one of defeat. “Fine.” Honestly, I’m surprised that he relented so easily. I never really noticed how much he normally gives up for me. Perhaps I only notice when he’s whining like a child on the occasions where he really doesn’t want to give in, so I thought that he always gets his way. But if I really stop to think about it, he rarely pulls such an act – most of the time he actually listens to what I want, or outright asks me, and goes along with whatever I wish. Heart swelling with renewed affection, I nod without hesitation when he tugs against the hem of my shirt. “May I?”

Baring the tops of my breasts by removing my shirt, he can’t seem to stop himself from ogling them in my bra. Pushing so my back is against the closet, he dips his mouth against the skin available to him as his fingers fiddle with the clasp of my bra. Once the garment is loosened, he all but pulls it off, tossing to the floor, so he can move on to my nipples. “Jimin!” My cry for him is from pleasure, but he mistakes it as a warning.

“Just… for a little bit.” My right nipple pucker under the ministrations of his tongue, growing stiff more quickly than it takes for him to unbutton and unzip my jeans, dragging them onto the floor with my panties. It’s all happening so fast. I haven’t even processed the fact that I’m now completely naked before him, in the dimness of the room filled only by a lone lamp in the corner I’d switched on when I came in. He slips his knee between my legs, spreading them apart. What his words cannot achieve; lowering my defenses, is being threatened by the difference between the texture of his jeans and the smoothness of my bare legs.

And Jimin, that devil, knows this very well. Propping his leg up against the sturdy wooden wardrobe, he brings it into contact with my exposed center. The friction draws a moan from me instantly, and without prompting, I begin to rub against him like a deranged nymphomaniac, seeking traction from the rough material against my pussy. He hasn’t even touched me there, yet I’m already wet enough to lubricate my movements against his muscular thigh. Each stroke stimulates countless sparks that shakes my body like electricity. I know I should stop, but I can’t. Latching on to his upper arms, I lift my head up to look at him imploringly. “Jimin… please.” Right now I’m not even sure what I’m asking from him.

There must be something on my face that makes him look at me with blazing fire in his eyes, before swooping down to brand another soul-searing kiss on my lips. How am I supposed to hold myself back when he’s holding me so closely, when his hard muscles encourage me to move my hips even faster, when he takes my lips like he wants to inhale my very soul into his body? It hasn’t taken much, but I’m already trembling with my impending orgasm. “Fuck,” Jimin spits out, abruptly wrenching himself away from me. My feet land flat against the floor as I howl in protest at having my high yanked away from me.

He doesn’t listen to my objections. Instead he grabs my hand and pulls me in the direction of the bathroom, his free one working furiously to tear his own clothes off. His haste almost makes him trip at the threshold of the bathroom as he attempts to step out of his jeans. My horrified chuckle at this is met with an impatient, don’t-you-dare-laugh glare, which makes it even harder to hold back my mirth.

“Get in,” he growls so ferociously that I stumble backwards, laughter gulped down as my body follows the motion of his chin. Predatory eyes burn holes along my body, suddenly making me self-conscious of my nakedness, but not for long. My own gaze is fixed on him as he moves forward, the clumsiness from a second ago replaced by panther-like steps, only pausing to take off his underwear in a far smoother move than he did his jeans. For the second time, I gulp; on my saliva this time, upon seeing his erection spring out from its confines. While his length looks average, his girth has me excited and apprehensive at the same time. He steps into the glass cubicle, backing me up against the wall, and closes the door separating the shower from the rest of the bathroom behind him. The shower is spacious enough for two people to fit comfortably inside, yet I somehow find myself cornered like a trapped animal. “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asks edgily. “You wanted to shower, didn’t you?” He reaches around me to turn it on.

A stream of cold water hitting my skin makes me gasp, forming goose bumps that are soothed away once it warms to the temperature that Jimin has set. As incensed as I am by the unexpected shift in our relationship and Jimin’s enthusiasm, I’m comforted by having the grime and sweat of the day being washed away.

Jimin’s mind isn’t as easily distracted though. Pressing me up against the wall facing the shower head, he envelops my lips in another fervent kiss. I’m more than happy to give in to it, wrapping my arms around his neck, but instead of holding me, he extends his reach towards the soap, pumping a generous amount of viscous liquid into his palm. “Looks like I’m going to have to help you wash if I want to move things along,” he mutters against my lips.

His soapy palms move slowly down, from my neck, branching outwards along my clavicles then dip down to cup my breasts. My breathing grows heavy as he massages them. Moans start forming in the back of my throat when he begins paying attention to my nipples, flicking them almost playfully with his thumbs. He doesn’t remain there long enough for me, one of his hands continuing down my stomach to the apex of my thighs. “Funny, I’d say it’s wetter here than my whole body.” He rubs his fingers against my folds, as if inspecting them. I can’t argue; even though most of the shower water is hitting his back, my pussy is arguably wetter than he is, and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the pipes.

Without warning, Jimin pushes his index finger in, eliciting a startled gasp from me. “So wet,” he crows delightedly at how easily it slips in. “Do you think you can fit another one in here?” He doesn’t wait for my response before cramming another finger in, making me whimper in pleasure. “You like how it feels?” I nod, turning my face away in embarrassment. It doesn’t deter Jimin. He simply whispers in my exposed ear, “You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

Yes. I want it so badly, yet to say the words is mortifying, so I nod again. Jimin tsk-tsks disapprovingly at my refusal to vocalise my answer. “Communication is key to a relationship, you know,” he teases, pushing his fingers in up to his knuckles, but refusing to move them any more. “How am I supposed to know what you want if you won’t tell me?”

This cruelly taunting side of Jimin is new to me. I can’t say that I hate it. Not when it’s turning me on so much. “Please Jimin,” I plead with him. “Fuck me with your fingers.”

Tilting his head to the side, Jimin puts on a show of considering my plea. Then he shakes his head, and I know that he never intended to do it in the first place. “No, I don’t think I will.” Leaning forward, he nibbles at my earlobe, telling me, “I’d rather taste you instead.”

Getting the full brunt of the jet of water from the shower when Jimin suddenly kneels at my feet, I sputter in surprise. Jimin uses my momentary confusion to spread my legs even further apart so he can bury his face between them. “Oh!” My hands fly to grasp at his wet hair, holding on for dear life as he goes all out from the get-go. Easily capturing my clit between his lips, he sucks hard, making my knees buckle and my previously unfulfilled orgasm rush back with a vengeance. “Jimin!!” He’s relentlessly alternating between flicking the tiny bud with the tip of his tongue and trying to suck it right off, and I can’t withstand his attack. Flick, flick, flick. And then suck, as hard as he can. In less than a minute I’ve lost completely, making him bear my weight as I cum violently. If he isn’t holding me up by the waist, I probably would’ve collapsed, maybe even slipped in the wet cubicle. Without missing a beat, he releases my clit to run his tongue along my slit, lapping up every drop of his victorious spoils and prolonging my orgasm.

Standing up, he maintains his hold on me, which I appreciate because I still don’t trust the strength of my legs. “You okay?” I can barely register his question in the hazy aftermath of my orgasm, but I manage to nod. Jimin pumps more soap to wash me with as I recover, then swiftly washes himself. Once he determines that both of us are clean enough, he turns the water off. “Can we go now?” He asks, wrapping his arms around me so he can rub his dick, which has grown slightly soft, against my belly. It’s unfair that he’s pushing his advantage like that. Just doing this is getting me aroused again.

As much as I want to get out as soon as we can, there is unfortunately one thing that we need to do first. “Jimin, we should dry our hair. Otherwise we’ll catch a chill.”

Relenting after letting out only one dissatisfied huff indicates that he agrees with me. It doesn’t mean that he’s happy with it. I smother a smile at his adorable childishness, which is a stark contrast to what he was just doing to me in the shower, and what he wants to skip all these small details to do to me in bed. By the time I’ve wrapped myself in a towel, he’s already by the socket next to the sink, hair dryer in hand. “Hurry, hurry,” he urges, pointing the device on full blast to my face.

“Ooof!” Instinctively squeezing my eyes shut to protect them from the powerful gust of warm air, I blindly swipe in his direction, hoping to smack Jimin for his immature prank and the mischievous guffawing that comes with it. Once Jimin directs the nozzle back towards his own hair and out of my face, I fix him a glare, which he returns with a Cheshire grin. He rakes his fingers through his hair roughly, anxious to be done with it. Sure enough, he finishes in record time. “Come on, let’s do you.” He tries to turn me around, but I refuse the offer, giving his messy job, with soft strands sticking up every which way, a pointed look.

“I’ll do it myself, thanks.”

Wisely deciding that handing me the hair dryer will be quicker than trying to argue with me, he relents. Then he leans against the wall next to the sink. With only a towel around his waist, looking like he has all the time in the world to just watch me do something as mundane as drying my hair. I turn towards the mirror, mentally instructing my eyes not to look at him. However, they’re not keen to follow orders, and flick towards his reflection every few seconds. It’s impossible for me to calm myself down like this. Especially not when I can see the obvious tent in his towel, threatening to part the cloth that’s barely covering him. It must have grown harder from the friction against my stomach just now, as well as the anticipation of what’s to come.

 “You can go ahead and wait outside.”

“Eh?” He starts to protest but stops when he sees my entreating look. “Okay,” he yields in a wounded puppy pitch. “But hurry, okay?”

I nod, only turning towards the mirror again after I see him closing the door to the bathroom. I’m glad that he’s giving me this bit of space to think. Even though I’m ecstatic by this turn of events, there’s so much to process that it’s overwhelming. And I’m hesitant to go all the way with Jimin without sorting it out. To me it’s a monumental thing. A really huge step. My sigh is drowned out by the loud whirring of the hair dryer, but the sound has become white noise.

So the incident that has plagued me for so many years turned out to be a misunderstanding. While it doesn’t excuse Jimin from what he’d said, there was never any truth behind those words. It had always baffled me that Jimin would think, much less say, such a thing. Even if he wasn’t interested in me, it doesn’t seem to be in line with Jimin’s personality to measure a girl’s worth so much as to label her something as horrid as ‘not girlfriend material’. The most is he’d think someone isn’t his type, and just move on. He’s one of the kindest people I know, but he isn’t perfect. I’m aware of that. We were young back then. It makes more sense that Jimin was only thinking about getting a girl in bed with him rather than weighing the consequences or fairness of saying something so hurtful.

Switching the electric device off, I gaze at myself in the mirror one last time, finding resolution. What matters now is the future. Am I ready to go forward?

The first thing I notice when I enter the bedroom is that Jimin has gathered all the pillows on his side of the bed, and is resting against them. Before I can wonder what he’s up to, he notices my presence and sits up, like a puppy waiting for his master to come home. It would have been heart-meltingly cute and endearing if he wasn’t gripping his erection in his right hand. Was he masturbating while waiting for me? The thought of it is more arousing than I’d have thought. Maybe there is something wrong with me. “Come here,” he beckons me over, and I approach him a little warily. He helps me atop the bed, manoeuvring my legs so I sit astride his lap.

This puts me face-to-face with him, but more importantly, he’s holding me so I’m sitting right atop his cock. I can predict a very speedy loss in focus. “Jimin,” I begin to ask, then moan when he grinds his hips against mine. “Jimin, are you sure about this?”

“A hundred and ten percent,” he responds, but his attention isn’t on me. Even in the semi-darkness, I can see his eyes are narrowed in the direction of our lower bodies.

Exasperated, I try again, wanting to make myself clear before anything happens that I may regret later. Damn, I’m cockblocking myself, but I know that I’ll be in a world of hurt if this turns out to be a temporary thing. I may be asking for too much, but I can’t do it. Not with Jimin. “No, not just this. I mean… are you sure about… going into a relationship with me? What if…”

Jimin looks up, his expression turning serious, and places a finger against my lips. “Stop that. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and I think I know you pretty well.” He briefly stops, waiting for confirmation, and I nod. No one knows me better than Jimin does. “You always overthink things, and when you’re not doing that, your head is filled with thoughts of food.” Even though his assessment is accurate, it doesn’t stop me from hitting him in the chest indignantly, but he only chortles. “It doesn’t matter what you lack. I still love you after all this time, and I’m confident that I won’t stop, no matter what happens. And about what I said back then…” Adopting a sober mien, he brushes my cheek lovingly, leaning closer to gaze into my eyes intently. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for it. Okay?”

“Okay,” I concede tearfully. There’s no one else who can put me at ease so easily. I wouldn’t say that the years-old scar has magically healed, but his touch soothes away all the pain. Closing the scant centimeters between us, I give him a quick peck. An innocent move, which Jimin changes immediately by drawing me into his arms, pulling me back in for a far more intense kiss. He pulls on my towel, already loosened by my movements, exposing my body to his touch. It’s like there’s fire in his fingertips, setting me aflame wherever he touches – from my hip, to the side of my waist, up to my breasts. Devilishly zoning in on my sensitive spots, sweeping back and forth over the stiffening tips of my chest. All night he has been giving me pleasure, and I want to return the favour.

Ignoring both the loss of the heady sensation from being in contact with his cock and Jimin’s growl of protest, I shift myself down towards the foot of the bed. Taking his half-hard erection in my hand, once again I marvel at its girth. Already I can’t wrap my hand completely around it. The thought of having it inside me is making me shiver in anticipation. Wanting to get a feel of it, I slide my hand up from the base, taking care not to be too rough with my dry hand. It’s enough to get Jimin to moan, the wild yet melodic sound instantly heating up my insides with lust. I want to make him feel good. I move down even further, lowering myself to do just that, but Jimin stops me halfway. “Wait.”

Surprised that he would keep me from sucking him off, I glance up at him, tucking my hair behind my ear so that it doesn’t obstruct my view. “Hmm?”

“Plenty of time for that later,” he exhales restlessly. Grabbing me by my waist, he lifts me up slightly, getting me off of him. Then he wiggles down the space between me and the mattress, comically moving to lie down on his back. It’s hard not to snort all over him.

“What are you doing?” Just how many times is he going to make me laugh while we try to get it on tonight?

“Getting what I want,” he pants, and I’m guessing it’s due to the exertion of his completely unnecessary action rather than being horny. Jimin is such an idiot sometimes. He ignores my eye roll though. “More importantly, are you ready for me?”

Instead of waiting for me to formulate a verbal answer, he reaches down to find the answer for himself. I jolt forward with a moan when Jimin swipes his fingers over my slit, then immediately rams two inside me. I’m sure I dried myself off after getting out of the shower earlier, but somehow I’ve gotten wet enough for his digits to slide into me without much resistance. “So wet already,” Jimin answers for me, even though the mortifying squelching sounds coming from my pussy makes it pretty clear that I’m ready for him. “I want to fuck you. Right now.”

Even though Jimin’s fingers are wrecking the best kind of havoc in me, I want the same thing. More than that, I want to make him feel good too. Before I can put my plan into action though, Jimin slaps the bed angrily. “Shit. I’m clean, but I don’t have a condom.” Scowling, he runs his fingers through his hair angrily, following it with a longer string of curses than I’ve ever heard him utter in my presence. I bite the insides of my cheeks so I can swallow the bubble of laughter back into my throat.

“It’s fine,” I reassure him. “I’m on the pill.” Although I haven’t slept with Se Hoon for ages, I kept taking them. Maybe I’ve continued doing so out of habit. Or maybe I was always unconsciously hoping for something to happen between me and Jimin, as far fetched as it seemed. Well, it’s clearly not as impossible as I’d thought.

“Thank goodness,” Jimin collapses back onto the sheets in relief, amusing me to no end. He doesn’t miss it, and shoots me a look that tells me he’s aware that I’m finding him funny. “I don’t think I can hold back at this point,” he warns me darkly, and I take it as a cue to continue. Bracing my hands on his chest, I sit up shakily. Reading my mind like he always does so expertly, he removes his hand so I can move my hips along the length of his dick. Up and down, up and down, covering him in my juices. I don’t know how he became this hard when I’ve barely done anything for him. But I’ll pleasure both of us now. Lining the tip of his cock with my pussy, I take a deep breath as I feel the bulbous head poking against my entrance. Then I face up to find that Jimin is staring at me with such scorching fire that I can feel my skin blister from the heat. He might just want this more than I do, although I can’t imagine a yearning any stronger than mine.

“Hnng,” I groan as I lower myself down slowly. Belatedly I attempt to figure out the last time I had sex in my head. Even before breaking up, Se Hoon and I hadn’t slept together for a while due to our busy schedules. I didn’t think much of it back then, and had thought that he didn’t mind, either. It turns out that he didn’t mind, but only because he was satisfying his urges with someone else. But I don’t want to think about that now. Not when Jimin’s cock is parting my flesh, its girth pushing my walls aside to make its way in. It’s not even halfway in yet I’m already breathless. The burn feels amazing, even if it’s making me mewl from the pain.

“Does it hurt?” Jimin asks through gritted teeth. “Go slowly.”

Unable to voice an answer, I bob my head in acknowledgement. Taking my time descending on Jimin magnifies the sensation of his cock stretching me out. By the time I’ve sheathed myself over him completely, I feel ready to burst. I’ve never felt so full and I tilt my head back as if to absorb the feeling. But I’m not the only one adjusting to this. Jimin’s grip on either side of my waist is slightly painful, betraying a strength that I wasn’t aware he possesses. “Fuck, so tight,” he grinds out like he can hardly stand the pleasure. “Fuck.”

After giving myself a few seconds to get used to having him inside me, I begin to lift myself up again, then sit back down on him, making both of us groan. I don’t know if I can ever get used to this. Still, I repeat the motion, impaling myself over and over his cock, hips accelerating as I get a sense of the rhythm. Jimin’s unconcealed moans spur me on; knowing how good I’m making me feel drives me to take it higher. But I’m not the only one determined to bring pleasure to my partner.

Even as I bounce on his cock, Jimin manages to reach for my clit, capturing it between his index and middle fingers in a ‘V’. Helped by my rapid movements, he pulls up, exposing my clit to the air. Tongue licking his lips, he looks at it like a delicacy that he’d love to devour. However, unable to do that, he makes do with his thumb. He alternates moving it in circular motions around the nub and grinding against it, all the while pinching it with his other two fingers. My hips stutter from his ministrations, but I don’t want to stop. I can’t, even if I wanted to. Not when he’s stimulating me like this. But I can feel the end approaching me rapidly, faster than I want it to. “Ji—Jimin, wait.”

I should’ve known that he’s not going to do as I say this time. “Give me a good reason to wait,” he challenges.

“I can’t take it.” My body is already shaking from its proximity. I’m about to crest the high, but I want to last longer. “Please, Jimin, or I’m going to come.”

“All the more reason for me not to wait, then.” Jimin takes my reasoning and tosses it out the window. In direct contrast to my request, he teases my clit even more, pushing me forward so I can’t stall it any longer. The knot growing inside me shrinks into itself, compressing impossibly before exploding like fireworks. With a cry of his name, I catch myself from collapsing completely on top of him by bracing my hands on either side of his torso. Jimin releases my clit to grab my waist, pushing me down against him, moaning as he feels my muscles contracting around him. “You’re so sensitive,” he remarks as I start to recover.

There’s nothing I can say to his comment. There’s nothing to say, really. I don’t recall ever being this receptive to someone else’s touch. It has been a while, I think, not wanting to admit that my sensitivity might have been caused by the person touching me, rather than the duration I’ve been deprived of such attention. Burying my face into the crook of Jimin’s shoulder, I inhale his scent; the perfect home to come to after falling down from my high. The realisation that I must be crushing him with my weight comes suddenly. I jolt up to move off of him, but he tightens his hold on my waist, halting me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uh, I must be heavy, and I–“ Jimin doesn’t give me the time to inform him that I can barely move, returning me back into place right above him and whispering;

“I’m not done yet.”

Digging his fingers in so deep I’m sure he’ll leave me with bruises, he pulls out of me, all the way to the tip. My sigh at the loss becomes a shriek midway when Jimin slams back all the way in without so much as a warning. He doesn’t stop there; in fact, that’s the speed that he’s setting for me. Pounding into me from underneath without mercy, without hesitation, without pause. My relaxed legs quickly grow tense again, as his rapid thrusting stokes a new fire in me. “Jimin, Jimin!” I call out for him in between gasps, every thrust knocking the air out of my lungs and every shred of intelligible thought out of my head, until his name is all that remains. My feet curl inwards, trying to withstand the pleasure but in futility. If he isn’t gripping me so firmly, I would have ended up sprawled over him. However, I have nowhere to run. Forced to take every single one of his hard thrusts. Each one making my lower body wrap tighter and tighter around him.

“Close.” Out of breath, Jimin manages to utter only one word, but he slips a hand between our bodies, closer now that I’ve crumpled over him under his rough pounding, leaving no question as to what he means when he pinches my clit between his fingers again. My body contracts until there’s no space left, and I can’t breathe. Whether my brain is hazy due to the lack of oxygen or because I’m on the verge of cumming, I don’t know. One moment later I climaxing again. Jimin doesn’t need to be told that; my cries of ecstasy and squeezing walls are enough to clue him in. He wraps an arm around my waist and seizes my right shoulder, holding me even more securely in place as his hips accelerates to a speed beyond my imagination. Panting and moaning, I latch onto his shoulders so I can receive his rough thrusts, each one knocking me several inches upwards. Unlike before, Jimin doesn’t give me time to recover, too focused on using my tightening muscles spasming around his cock to reach his own high.

It doesn’t take long, but I’ve regained enough sense of mind to register him sinking his face against my neck as he comes. Each of his grunts accompanying every deliberate, deep thrust, pumping his seed into me is so close to my ear, I can feel the hot air that comes with them. There is an odd feeling of being the one to comfort him as his body quakes. It’s like he trusts me to keep him safe at his most vulnerable, and I immerse myself in the feeling proudly for a while.

By the time Jimin rolls me over to the side, I’m starting to get drowsy. My legs twitch when his limp dick slips out a little, and my eyes flutter open to find that he’s staring at me. “What is it?” Absurdly, I feel a little shy. This is just Jimin after all. On the other hand, I’ve never been with Jimin like this before.

“Nothing. I just can’t believe this isn’t a dream.”

The relatable statement makes me grin. “I know. Me too.”

“It seems like such a waste to just… go to sleep.”

No way. “What do you mean?”

“You know, just…” He shrugs with all the innocence of a toddler, but it doesn’t fool me for one second. Especially when he nuzzles against my neck, then almost immediately switches to kissing and sucking the sensitive flesh. A pressure within makes me moan, feeling myself getting fuller as Jimin grows hard again. “I spent four nights in bed with you and I couldn’t even touch you. Do you know how difficult that was? I was about to go insane.”

The dawn of the following morning is slightly chilly, but that’s what makes it refreshing. Even though I greet the day with a yawn as I rest my forearms against the railing of the balcony, I’m feeling very content and reinvigorated. A light mist shrouding the garden before me gives it a cool, dream-like quality. Each plant has bountiful leaves – it’s always summer in Malaysia, after all – and each one is heavy with morning dew. I wish I could reach and touch the moisture with my fingers.

With time, my brain starts to function more efficiently, and I begin to think about the events of last night. Of course I’m ecstatic about finally being in a romantic relationship with Jimin, the man that I’ve been pining over for so long, but I’d be lying if I say that I don’t have any doubts. I’ve been so focused on getting over him that I never stopped to think what it would mean to have my best friend as my boyfriend. The obvious question is: what if it doesn’t work out between us?

Like Jimin said last night, he has known me for many years now. There aren’t many flaws of mine that he isn’t aware of. I’m quite confident that I know most of the things I need to know about him too. And just like Jimin, none of it has made me fall out of love with him. If anything, his imperfections make me love him even more. I can’t think of any reason that would make us break up, but it’s always a possibility. What would happen to our friendship should the worst come to pass? I hope we can still be friends somehow.

Just the thought of it is depressing enough to make me heave a sigh. There’s no point in speculating about the future. I already know that I can barely endure not being with him. It was torture to watch him with girlfriends when I so desperately, so selfishly wanted to fill that role. Now that my wish has come true, we just have to go forward and do our best. If it doesn’t work out, then we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. I’m not delusional enough to think that everything will be perfect from now on, but I hope for every rainy day we have to suffer through, there will be a sunny one that will balance it out. Smiling to myself, I enjoy this blissful feeling I never knew I’m capable of feeling. With Jimin, I’m sure my life will be full of happy days, like an eternal summer.

“What’s up with you?” A teasing, rhetorical question comes from behind, making me jump in surprise. I turn around to find Jimin leaning against the frame of the glass door, looking cool as a cucumber. But I see the laughter dancing in his eyes. “One second you were sighing, and the next you were grinning like an idiot.”

Feeling blood rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment at being caught entertaining my thoughts, I spin back to face the garden. “Nothing! How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to want to get a closer look at you.” Jimin approaches and hugs me from behind. He wastes no time sniffing against my neck like a little puppy. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmhmm.” How could I not? After that second round, I was ready to nod off, but he’d recovered by then and had asked me if he could take me up on that earlier offer to give him a blowjob. How could I say no? And he wasn’t content to finish up in my mouth, either – no, he wasn’t as rough as he was the first time, but he still finished inside me. It left me exhausted and I went out like a light afterwards. I’m not sure what made me wake up so early, but I do feel well-rested, though quite sore.

“I’m glad.” I can feel and hear him smiling against my ear rather than see it. Although I’m not sure if he’s glad because I’ve gotten enough rest, or because the stiff shaft I can feel pressing against my back needs some attention. Given that he’s already tracing the crevices of my ear with his tongue, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter.

“I’m beginning to think that you’re a monster.” My complaint doesn’t sound very convincing since it’s followed by a keening moan. He’s quick to slide his hand up my thighs and under my bathrobe, discovering that I’m not wearing anything underneath. His sharp inhale lets me know how aroused he got from that revelation.

“I’m not usually this horny,” he admits, leaning me down to rest my upper body against the railing so my ass juts out. I can hear the shuffling of his slippers as he moves back, but before I can turn around to see what he’s doing, I feel his tongue running all the way from the bottom up to my asshole. My back arches from the unexpected jolt of pleasure, hitting me like a bolt of lightning down my spine. “Maybe we need to make up for… what, a decade’s worth of love-making?” Despite being sore, my pussy clenches at the ridiculous notion. A whole  decade? “Fuck, you’re so wet already.” The loud, wet sounds his tongue makes as he laps against my slit doesn’t leave me any room to argue. I only let out a whine when he reaches around to press against my engorged nub. “You’re swollen,” he says concernedly, contrasting with his unrelenting ministrations. “Are you okay?”

“If you’re worried–mmmnn–“ Against my better judgement, I push myself back against his mouth, craving for more. “Why are you doing this?”

Jimin’s reply is lost somewhere within my folds, but once his tongue pushes past my entrance, I stop caring about his answer. It’s amazing how easily Jimin unearths my most sensitive spots. Not just how putting pressure against my clit stimulates me more than circular motions, but also how a feather-like touch along the side of my body makes me tremble or that lightly nibbling my nipples makes me buck beneath him. However, a night of thorough attention has made all of me super sensitive, and I’m already on the verge of tears while my head is screaming for more. “Jimin, please,” I beg. “I need you now.”

Those words are all the encouragement that Jimin needs. Standing behind me, he lifts the lower part of the bathrobe up so he can press his insistent hard-on against my entrance. “No, wait, Jimin.” Remembering where we are right now, I begin to panic. “Let’s go inside.”

Of course, Jimin has never been one to listen to orders. “No one’s up yet,” he overrides my protest, and cuts off any oncoming ones by slamming his hips against mine, pushing his thick cock all the way inside in one stroke. Tears fall from my eyes and my scream breaks the stillness of the morning at the brutal insertion. “Shh,” he comforts me, raining kisses all over the side of my neck and shoulders as I sob. “Someone will hear us if you don’t keep it down.”

“Damn it, Jimin, you’re the meanest – ah! Ah!” I can’t even finish reprimanding him. How can I, when my body reacts to him so easily, and the fact that anyone passing by can see us, or other hotel guests can hear us turns me on even more? Taking a little mercy on me, Jimin grabs my chin, directing me to look back so he can kiss me, somewhat effectively swallowing my moans. The intense kiss matches the force of his thrusts below; slower than last night but with more strength. He lowers his hand to slip it inside my bathrobe, groping my left breast, using it as an anchor as his cock drives me to oblivion. Everything he does intoxicates me, making me drunk to the point I don’t know up and down, so that I no longer give a damn about anyone seeing him pounding into me in broad daylight. All I can think about is the tingling sparks of friction from every stroke of his cock sliding in and out of me, the tiny pinpricks of pleasure and pain like scorching embers feeding a bonfire growing more and more out of control within me. “Jimin,” I gasp when he releases my lips for air, “coming.”

He kisses me, then pulls at my lower lip. “Come,” he coaxes me with his fingers pinching my nipple, making me mewl, and with the short words his brain can muster in his state. “With me. Now.”

After several hard thrusts, Jimin brings me to my climax and follows me right after. He holds me tightly, supporting me so my shaking legs don’t suddenly give way from under me, although I can tell from his quivering body that he’s having trouble keeping himself up. The sturdy railing provides the support we both need, and we cling to it as we catch our breaths. A few minutes later, we’re still panting, but Jimin slowly sits down on the floor, guiding me to sit across his lap. I’ve hugged Jimin countless times before when we were still just friends, but I think after sex might be the best time for cuddling with him.

His comforting arms almost lulls me to sleep, but the gradually escalating heat of the rising sun brings me back to my senses. Opening my eyes, I ask drowsily, “What time is it?”

Jimin shrugs. “Who knows.”

Resisting the urge to follow his devil-may-care attitude, I climb out of his lap to crawl towards the table where I’d left my handphone. My eyes widen when I see the numbers on display. “Jimin! There’s less than three hours before our flight! We need to go, now!”

We get ready and packed in record time. Soon we’re begging our driver to drive us as quickly as possible to the airport, both of us still huffing and panting, but this time for a completely different reason compared to this morning. The young driver shakes his head in disapproval, but accedes to our wishes, driving at a speed I’m not sure is legal, expertly zipping in and out between cars. We earn a few honks, but I try to detach myself from the chaos, leaning back against the seat to try and calm my racing heartbeat.

“This is all your fault, you pervy animal,” I hiss at Jimin under my breath. “If we can’t board our plane you’re going to pay for both our tickets back home.”

Jimin’s smirk is charming and utterly unrepentant. “Worth it.”

Thank you for reading! As always, comments/asks/likes are very welcome :)

[bimswritings]

This Is Our Way

Ch.1

Summary: What happens when you make the mistake of thinking you can steel from a Mandalorian? You land yourself and job and a plethora of adventures and emotion you could never even dream of.  The question is; where will those emotions lead.

Warnings: Typical canon violence, NSFW implications and scenes later on

You can also read it on my Ao3 account.

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Clouds. Dark, impenetrable, depressing grey clouds are what greet you as soon as your eyes open, just like they have every day for years during your existence on the scrappy planet of  Corellia. Home to the most desperate and cruel criminals, along with the enslaved and weak civilians and captives. All mixed in with your average day citizen trying to get by.

A great place to live.

The sound of tie-fighters overhead is what first woke you, screaming as they made their morning flight overhead, acting as an ever present reminder of the Empire's presence and signaling the start of your day. Bones and joints crack in sync as you push yourself up, rubbing your eyes and crawling from the busted old weapons crate that acted as a poor supplement for a bed. Its lid laid discarded to the side, allowing the cool night air of one of the only dry nights of the month to flow in while you slept. The hard metal lining was barely tolerable, even when padded with the few scraps of fabric you had managed to snag over the years, but it was sturdy and the lid provided great protection from the ever present rain on the overcast planet.

Taking care not to trip while climbing from the enclosed space, you stumble out onto the main section of the roof and stare over the city as you stretch, trying not to cringe as certain bones popped back into place painfully. It wasn’t a pretty sight, and not even the fresh breeze that floated in from the sea could make it any more appealing.

Boring, industrial buildings stretched as far as the eye could see in varying colors of black and steel, hardly standing out against the horizon of equally dull colors only punctuated by the occasional crism Empire flag. In the middle of it all was the only decently maintained and sizable buildings on the planet, where the majority of ships for the Empire were produced. It was thanks to the presence of that one building that there was even an economy here, keeping it from turning into a more dreary and wet version of Tatooine, the outlandish world it was. The sight was enough to make your stomach churn, but had nothing on the aching pain that radiated from the organ and had you mind wondering when you had eaten last. Three, four days maybe? It didn’t matter. However long it was, the meager scraps you had managed to find behind the restaurant district of the wealthy were but a distant memory. It was this very hunger that drove you from your safe space, forcing you to climb down the pipes lining the outside of the building you resided on.

The metal creaked and groaned in protest under your weight, but you didn’t give it a second though, knowing there was nothing to worry about. You had been climbing along these fixtures for years, nimble hands and feet finding the smallest of purchases as you move along with ease.

When the ground was close enough you dropped, rolling through the impact to your feet and taking shelter behind an abandoned stall as you momentarily stumbled, vision swimming and black dots dancing before you. Force, you really need to get something to eat soon. Rainwater could only fill your stomach for so long before it lost its abilities to hold you over.

Peering around the corner, your eyes scanned the narrow alleyway, looking for any sign of stormtroopers or other rough characters that would cause trouble. You were never much of a fighter, but today especially was a day you were feeling particularly weak.

‘Alright. All I need to do is slip out, grab a couple of credits, and get back. It should be fine as long as I don’t run into-’

“Well well well. Look what we have here.” Leon’s voice spoke from behind, making you cringe and berate yourself for not being more careful. This was the last thing you needed to deal with, and Leon’s sickly smooth voice only served to grate on your nerves more as you turned to face him and his three lackeys, identifying them as Sho, Everett, and Corin.None as dangerous, but all as bad tempered as their leader.

Glacial blue eyes stared from pale skin beneath his shock of blond hair, a combo that drew ladies like flies to him. Pair that with pearly white teeth and he could have been a poster boy for some prep school on Coruscant. If not for the tattooed arms and green vest that held the insignia of a ranicore tooth, marking him as one of Sozin’s many street enforcers. His kind was the one you hated most. Cocky guys who thought that just because they were someone in some gang they had power over everyone else, not giving a second thought to those they hurt, be it man, women, or child. As long as they got a nice cut at the end of the day they were fine. Despite your hate for them, by all means joining a gang was the best way to survive here. It promised food, shelter, and constant work. All you had to do was give up your own self respect and humanity in return.

“The little Jawa had finally come out from her fortress. Tell me,” He smirked as the others formed a loose circle around you, effectively caging you in. “Get anything good lately.”

You wanted to spit at him, slap that stupid smirk off his face and leave him to go crying back to his boss. But you didn’t. Instead, you took a more casual, defensive stance, ready to get away the moment you had the chance. Slapping a fake smile on your face, you cocked an eyebrow in mock teasing.

“Please. If I had anything of interest I’m sure you of all people would know.” You were getting more nervous now, keenly aware of how close Sho was getting to your current position. Far too close for your liking.

“And with the patrols increased and punishments cracking down, things have gotten harder.''

“True, but I just never know what those sticky fingers of yours may manage to pick up. Your skill has a reputation after all.” His eyes skimmed over your body, not even trying to hide the way he was practically undressing you. The slimy bastard had been pining after you for years, ever since he had watched you lift a number of things from a trooper when you were both just young teenagers. He claimed it was for your skills but it didn’t take a genius to see he was looking for something more. “Maybe you could give me a live demonstration some time.”

And there it was.

You said nothing, only pushing yourself further against the cool metal of the wall behind you in an attempt to create some sort of distance in between you. Your stomach, the traitor it was, decided that it would be the best time to voice its own opinion, letting out a loud growl of protest that didn't go unheard.

Leon’s face took on a mask of concern and sympathy, and you might have fallen for it had you not known any better. His tone took on a softer, more whispery tone, like he was speaking to a stray feline. Not that far off if you thought about it.

“You look hungry. Why don’t you come back with me. I can get everything squared away with Sozin, and I promise, I’ll take real good care of you.”

His hand extended out in invitation, strong fingers that had ended the lives of so many gently relaxed, the other crossing behind his back in a mock gentleman pose, as if he even knew what being a decent guy even started with.

“C’mon. Think about it. No more empty stomachs or fighting for every scrap. You’d even have a nice bed to lay in at the end of the day. No more sleeping on the filthy streets.”

Scoffing, you summoned the last of your confidence, brushing past him and ignoring his invitation. “I’d rather take the streets than your blood soaked sheets any day.”

That should have been it, and it would have been for anyone else on just a code of respect among those here. But Leon wasn’t known for taking no for an answer. Before you could even make it  three steps his hand closed on your elbow, bringing you back closer to him. Despite all you twisting and pulling, his superior strength kept you close, breath fanning your skin as he spoke.

“Listen here, I’ve been more than kind in my advances. A saint some may even say, so you’re not going to walk away from me, understand? No your going to come back and-”

“Hey!” A shout from the end of the alleyway interrupted him, drawing all your attention as the squadron of storm troopers rounded the corner to the alley, falling in line behind their captain.”You there! What’s going on?”

At the sight of the local law enforcement and their blasters, Leon’s grip loosened a fraction. Just the smallest amount really, but enough for you to be able to slip from his grip and between Sho and Corin before they could stop you. You ignored the shouting of the officer, sprinting in the opposite direction and around the corner into the main streets of Corellia.

‘Good luck trying to find me now.’ You smirked, pulling your hood up to conceal your face as you effortlessly blended into the crowd, becoming just one of the thousands of faces that traveled through as you continued on your way. Now it was time for the real work to begin.

Just as with the seasons, your own hunting grounds changed, ever rotating through the different sectors in order to keep law enforcement off your tail. It was one of the first lessons you had ever learned; never hunt in the same spot for more than a few weeks.

Today was a fresh start in the port district, leaving an abundance of new and unaware targets. It was a popular place for travelers as well, who were especially naive, but even with that you knew today would be a challenge. It hadn’t been a lie when you told Leon that the troopers were cracking down. More patrols and increased severity of punishments had started to begin in order to ‘cut down the crime’, as your senator put it. Fat chance of that though, as one could argue that Corellia ran on crime. Still, the effort put forth was really putting the pressure on smaller people like you, who were just trying to survive, not to mention the street vendors and shop owners had installed their own new security measures in place, leading to an unfavorable combo that led to your current weak and hungry state. So you were here, looking for some oblivious fool to cop a few credits off from your perch just outside the mechanics.

As your eyes scanned the crowd, looking for visible money holders or those with liftable jewelry and other items, you saw him. He was hard to miss actually. The beskar he wore from head to toe shone proudly even without the light of the sun hidden above, speaking of its own durability and care shown by the owner. Alongside him was a pod, closed, and most likely carrying whatever supplies he had picked up from the market. The brown cape around his shoulders did nothing to hide the gun scross his broad back, nor the dozens of smaller weapons strapped to his person.

He stood tall above the crowd, most parting like water around a stone to avoid him, and it was no wonder. Even you had heard the stories about the Mandalorians. Fierce warriors and fighters who could track their prey to the ends of the galaxy. They were the best bounty hunters and hired guns on the market. You had been witness to more than one lowlife being pulled from their seat in the cantina by his kind, kicking and begging to no avail as they were carried away, dead or alive.

Teeth gnawing on inside of your cheek, you debated with yourself. On one hand, he was a high risk target, undoubtedly being used to these kinds of places and the people who lived here. Stealing from him would earn you a blaster shot to the head if caught, that is, if he were feeling merciful enough not to crush every bone in your body. But then, he was a bounty hunter. They always carried a lot of credits, and ones worth more at that. One swipe from him could set you up for days, if not weeks! He was also the only target you had seen open worth any value the entire day, and you weren’t sure you could go much longer without food.

You debated with yourself, going back and forth as you watched him grow closer to where you sat. If you didn’t make a decision soon you would lose your chance all together.

As if detecting your hesitance, your body made the decision for you, loosening another growl from its depths, prompting you forward and before you knew it you were on the move. Pulling a small guide book from your pocket, you pretended to be grossly interested in the useless thing, eyes moving to falsely skim the words as you carefully adjusted your path closer to his, threading between the crowd with as much ease as he cut through it.

The moments before were tense, each step leaving you feeling more electrified as adrenaline coursed through your body, only feeding your blind confidence as you counted down.

‘6..5...3..2..1….Now’

You pretended to stumble, tripping on your own feet as naturally as you would walk, veering from your course and bumping into the armored man. You winced slightly as your shoulder made contact with the metal, which made your grunt of pain that much more believable and distracting while your hands got to work. Like all bounty hunters, he kept his money in front of him, just slightly to the left of his leg. A tactic to prevent pickpockets like you that frequented the scenes they often found themselves in. Smart, but you had gotten used to this tactic before, and it was a simple swipe of your hand as it quickly entered and retreated the pouch, fingers closed around an unknown number of credits, all within a fraction of a second as you mumbled apologies, raising your opposite hand in distraction as your other moved to pocket your catch.

As soon as your own fingers left the pouch, you knew you were in trouble. Years of being on the streets had taught you when you had the upper hand in a situation or not, whether you were the predator or prey. In that moment, that small fraction of a moment, you went from poised victor to the most demure of prey.

And the man in front of you was the hunter.

His hand, even quicker than your own, moved to latch onto the retreating limb. The very one holding the credits you had thought had been yours.

Head snapping up to meet his, you were faced with an unfeeling gaze in the form of silver surrounding a small ‘t’ of inky darkness that prevented you from seeing his face. You tried to pull away, only to have his stern grip tighten even more, the leather of his glove squeaking in symphony along with the crackling of the joint. Yet you still refused to drop the credits, stubbornly holding onto them out of spite and fear. If he hadn’t seen them yet, there was no way he could indefinitely prove you had taken anything from him, though the way he focused on it told you he already knew the truth.

Kriffing hell. Why had you even thought this would be a good idea. He was a Mandalorian, and in your hunger driven brain you had somehow managed to convince yourself it would actually work. Well congratulations, you had the credits, but now you were as good as dead. If he didn’t decide to deal out his own justice and kill you then and there, surely he would turn you over to the stormtrooper.

The skin on your back tingles and warmed at the thought, memories of public whippings flashing in the back of your mind and doubling your heart rate and raising your panic even more.

Maybe you could still get out of this though. He was a man, as far as you could tell anyways, and all men were susceptible to one thing, hardened warrior or not. You could distract him, try to get a trade or compromise in return for forgetting about the situation. If not him then the clones. Maker knows they were always willing to pass up small crimes every once in a while in exchange for a way to sate their horniness. Though you had never tried the practice yourself, you had heard of numerous others getting off the hook that way. How hard could it be?

Your thoughts were interrupted by movement, bringing you back from your blind panic of plotting how to get out of this. The Mandalorian had tilted his head, t-visor still trained on your face as he observed you. Those around you were all too eager to ignore the situation, walking past with explicitly diverted eyes as they went about their business. The hand not holding yours moved, making you flinch back but with nowhere to go as he kept you trained in place. It moved towards your face and you braced, eyes scrunched and ready for the impact of a palm or fist making contact.

Yet, it never came.

Instead, the soft worn leather gently pressed against your face, fingers gently running along the curve of your cheek, highlighting the bone that protruded with hunger. The occasional scrape of his beskar along the skin makes you shudder, but if he even notices he doesn’t say anything, only continuing to stare as his hand tips your face every which way for him to examine. Then he just...let go. Without another word he had dropped his hands, stepping around and continuing on his original path, leaving you behind him, frozen in place and in a state of shock.

You could have stood there for any measure of time, be it seconds or minutes. Your brain was too busy trying to process what had just happened to even think about anything else. It was only when someone rudely bumped into you, almost knocking you to the ground, that you finally snapped out of it, and suddenly you were running. Feet pounding the uneven ground as you gained speed, faces flew past as little more than blurs as you continued to put more space between you and your should-have-been attacker. If it had been any other time you might have been proud of the speed you had, the burning in your lungs of little significance. Not even when you had seen Leon once again did you blink, blowing past as he called out and tried to grab you.

Before you knew it you were rounding the alley back to your little home, leaping more than climbing up the pipes with record speed as your feet barely touched the rickety metal. You practically dove into your little crate of a home, pulling the lid and locking yourself in darkness as you tried to sooth your pulse, taking deep breaths that did little to help. Absentmindedly, you began humming to yourself. A song so out of tune and unrecognizable it would have made a wookie weep, but it was what you needed as you pressed the burning and sticky skin of your forehead against the cool metal of the wall.

Eventually, after countless repetitions or the short tune, you managed to steady yourself, bringing enough sense back to realize you were still holding onto the credits from before, which were now gripped tightly in your hand. Enough to the point where the skin had turned a pearly white and your fingers hurt to move as you slowly unclenched them, revealing angry marks and even places where the rectangular currency had bit deep enough into the skin to draw blood. But oh what a beautiful sight it was.

One hundred credits laid in your fist, clustered together in a jumble of varying amounts and different kinds, but a total amount of one hundred. You normally only got this after a week of extremely successful hunting in the summer months. The sight of it now was enough to make you cry.

Despite the urge to go and get food from the nearest vendor, you knew better than to go out right away. For all you knew he had only let you go just to follow you back to your base, probably thinking he could turn you into the stormtroopers for a bigger ransom than what he lost, or loot your own place for anything you had stored up. Jokes on him if that was the plan, because he would only get back what you took from him.

The thought stayed stuck in the front of your mind, forcing you to stay tucked in your hiding space for the remainder of the day and keeping you awake through the night. Every little sound made you jump, convinced that you would once again find yourself at the receiving end of his burning gaze, the helmet he wore only masking his expression and leaving your fate uncertain. He never showed though, never ripped the lid off your container or dragged you out into the open.

By the time you managed to fall asleep, your body finally running out of its immense supply of adrenaline, the city itself had just begun to awaken below to the wee hours of the morning, and the fighters had just begun their morning rounds once again.

‘Maybe...maybe just a few hours of sleep.’ You thought to yourself, burrowing down into your small nest of blankets. What could be the harm?

Well, apparently a lot.

You had woken up in a panic, cracking the lid to see that the sky had already gone dark once again. Swearing to yourself, you emerged once again like a Nightshrike from its cave. Foregoing any normal rituals, you allowed your body to stretch itself as you moved, hustling from rooftop to rooftop, something you only did under the cover of night. The last thing you need is someone seeing you and discovering your home up top. You would never be able to get any peace after that.

You were in a rush though, and the thought of wasting a day of work didn’t bother you nearly as much as the thought of your favorite shop closing. With the amount of credits you had now, you wouldn’t have to worry about money for a while, so the only thought you had while the dim lights of the city flicked to life below was getting there as soon as possible. Who knows, maybe you’d even have enough to treat yourself to some fruit, an expensive and rare treat for anyone on the planet.

Skidding to a stop just before the end of the row, your eyes lit up at the sight of the shop still open, clearly readying to close. Shimmying back down to increasingly deserted streets, you were already drooling at the thought of biting into something and not having to wonder what it would taste like. No more than ten minutes later you were leaving, pockets now full of brick bread as the owner locked the doors behind you.

The plan was to only eat half of one on your way back, the nutrient rich and dense pastries giving you enough energy for the day in a single bite, but not even halfway back you found yourself licking the crumbs from your fingertips, hardly holding back from grabbing one of the four remaining loafs. Instead you reached into the opposite side and grabbed the meiloorun fruit you had managed to snag.

Now this was the main event.

Sinking your teeth into the soft skin, you nearly groaned as its taste exploded on your tongue, making your taste buds dance and sing as the sweetness became so intense it almost hurt. You still loved it.

Your stomach was full for the first time in forever, almost foreign as you had begun to forget the feeling. Juice dribbled down your chin as you continued on your way home, making a deliciously sticky mess to be wiped away and cleaned by your lips, intent on not letting a single morsel go to waste.

Thankfully the trip back was less eventful than your previous outing, helping instill an eerie yet calming silence over the city and prompting you to take your time.

You always enjoyed it up here on the roofs. Hardly anyone came up, not many having the same confidence and agility possessed by you and few others, and there was an ever present breeze up here that didn’t quite reach the lower levels. Not to mention the view it gave, which was one of the main reasons you had chosen a roof as your spot for a base camp. If only you could see the stars, but alas, the sight was as rare as greenery here, leaving it up to your own imagination to construct an array of bright lights on the top of your crypt.

Finishing the fruit, you paused at the edge of the building before your own. Small lights danced in the darkness, the occasional lamp illuminating a hustling figure and the street walkers that lined the corners of streets, calling to anyone in sight. The occasional search light of a patrol ship would shin above the buildings as it made its rounds over the city.

‘Must be looking for someone’ you mused, turning back to return home. No reason to get caught out tonight, especially when you were looking at a few days of relaxation.

As you turned, a familiar flash caught your eye, triggering a new taught panic response. You could hardly believe your eyes, rubbing them extra hard just to make sure you were seeing things right. But alas the sight before you neglected to change, unfortunately not a trick of the eye like you had hoped it was, and the Mandalorian you had thought you escaped the previous day continued walking down the dark alley.

You began to sweat backing away from the edge and further out of his line of sight, trying to still keep him in yours as you peered back over and tracked his progress as he got closer.

‘Kriff. I should have known he would want his money back.’

Panicking, you began going over all the escape routes near you. Ones through city street and sewers that would be much too small for him to fit through. Though, if he had tracked you here then chances were he would be able to find you wherever you went. This really wasn’t good. You might not even be able to go collect what meager possessions you had back in your box.

Then, materializing out of the darkness as if he were made of it himself, was Leon. He stepped into the path of the Mandalorian like he had no fear and, knowing how stupid he was, you thought he might actually not have any for the bounty hunter. But why would he when he was the primary enforcer for Sozin and still had his own backup, the three from earlier.

“Hey there.” He spoke in a voice that promised nothing but trouble, hands casually resting in pockets that undoubtedly concealed a weapon of some sorts. "I've been meaning to have a talk with you. The shiny Mandalorian warrior everyone is talking about."

This, you thought, was not good.

[katherinewilliams221b]

For A Greater Good 16/18

Not my gif. Before It’s Too Late

Summary: Kate Williams, young healer and member of the Order,  joins Durmstrang’s staff at Dumbledore’s request. Her mission? Find a Death Eater and survive long enough to tell the story. Set in 1996.

Pairing: Charlie Weasley x ofc/mc

Masterlist

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

[Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10]

[Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14]

[Part 15]

--

Warnings: mentions of blood and wounds

Classes were over, grades had been hung in the corridor, and Durmstrang celebrated that another year was over. 

Kate was forcing a comb through her brown waves when she heard laughter and hasty footsteps outside her dorm. Returning her attention to her hair, she pressed more insistently on the knot that was refusing to untangle and contemplated the day ahead of her; the Annual Exposition of Dark Arts had arrived and with it, the crushing fear of not leaving Durmstrang anytime soon.

She had told Dumbledore and Rhode she was no auror; she didn’t have training in catching criminals, if that’s what one of these people were.

“Well, it’s not like someone will raise their hand and say ‘it’s me, Kate, take me to Azkaban.’” She murmured to her reflection in the rusty mirror next to the door.

Why? Why had Dumbledore put her there? What was she supposed to do? Almost six months had passed; she had heard from Dumbledore only once, and Rhode was so busy with the school’s events that had practically forgotten why she was there.

But Kate still remembered. She still remembered what happened to Flavia Hodges.

Having abused her locks enough, she attempted to shape them into curls, twirling some hairs around her finger. When she finished, she traced her dragon necklace before securing it under her robes.

Who would be willing to join a Dark Wizard? And why? For a greater good, as Corentin had said? Or maybe for more personal reasons? No one was exempt from guilt, no one was good or bad; Cassandra Steiner was rude and disagreeable, but she was a mediwizard and cared for others; Flavia Hodges was almost murdered and Kent Jorgensen would have protected the man he thought was guilty, but he wasn’t ill-intended and seemed to be a clever man; Leron Angelov was sick and violent with his son, but he had enough problems to be a criminal; Libor Marek was intolerant and prejudiced, adequate characteristics for a Death Eater, but that didn’t make him one; and the only thing that Kate knew about Mer Yankelevich was that she was a liar.

She let out a heavy sigh and made her way to the desk. After grabbing her cloak from her chair and fastening it around her neck, she grabbed the several items she intended to carry with her at all times: her wand, her diary, the list and the trick wand that the Weasley twins had sent her.

The night before, tidying up her belongings, she had found the box that Fred and George had sent her and thought it could be a good farewell gift to Vivien, in case she wanted to give a lesson to Jon Hopkins.

She felt uncomfortable with everything she was carrying on her. The list and her notebook were inside her improvised pockets, and both wands were safely tucked in each sleeve. Impractical for the occasion, but with everyone distracted with the AEDA, it was very easy for someone to slip out of there unseen, and she had no intention of anyone walking into her room and finding those items. After fastening her ankle boots, she headed outside.

 Rhode had not been exaggerating when she described the AEDA as the biggest event of the year; the corridors were ostentatiously decorated with garlands and lights; countless carriages arrived on the castle grounds one after another and the doors to the dining hall were open all day, held up by pillars from which people could grab pamphlets describing the event’s activities.

Tables had been rearranged to form the various displays, and the students were dressed in their finest robes to honour the occasion.

The hustle and bustle of the day made the place unrecognisable, characterised by its usual gloom and darkness.

She advanced through the hall, pausing from time to time to watch project demonstrations and congratulate those taking part in the competition. Her eyes fell on a familiar face next to her; Leron Angelov sat behind a table where a seventh-grade girl explained her work to three wizards who, judging by their golden robes, were the judges.

“The potion lets you transfigure into whatever animal or object at will, only for a few minutes…” she exposed. Kate approached Angelov and leaned in to whisper, “Don’t do that.” Leron stared at her and stopped scratching his arms.

After wandering around for a while, she finally reached her own table, greeted her students and settled wizards and witches filed in and out of the room, delighting in the students’ magnificent works.

She wished with all her might that she could share their enthusiasm.

She gave several forced smiles, for Rhode’s sake, as the organiser of the event she wanted everything to go smoothly, but deep inside she was overwhelmed by a deep worry that she didn’t know how much longer she could bear.

“It’s really ugly.” She overheard one of her students, Greta, referring to her umbrella flower. Several of her children were standing behind a table, presenting their work to the audience.

A single umbrella flower, magically modified to remain a medium size, floated above the table; its vibrant red colour stood out among the sober tones of the place. The top of the plant, usually hollow to do justice to its name, now was decorated with thirty-seven fangs all around the base, giving it the appearance of a weird-looking lamp.

“You should be proud,” she reminded them, “You’ve managed to do something wonderful.”

“It’s still horrendous.” Jon Hopkins commented, wrinkling his nose.

“We’ve done next to nothing...” lamented Micael. Kate raised her eyebrows.

“What do you mean, you haven’t? We needed every single one of your plants, remember they didn’t all germinate, and only one of them got these results. And these posters explaining the whole process? They are priceless...”

They were still not convinced, so she kept insisting “In a few years, someone will want to do the same as you and they will be grateful to have your work as a reference”.

A man and a woman approached their table and after reading a few paragraphs of their report, left without comment. Everyone visibly deflated.

“By the way, where is Vivien? I have something for her...” asked Kate. Micael shrugged.

She looked around, but it was impossible to find anyone among the crowd. She saw a few familiar faces; like Jorgensen chatting animatedly with some seventh year students or Sheyi Mawut, who was making his way through the wizards towards her. There was no sign of any other teacher.

“Well, well! This is the first time in a long time I’ve seen first-year students exhibiting. What have we got here?” Mawut looked at Kate with a smile and she touched two fingers to Micael’s elbow. The boy looked at her and Kate nodded.

“We have created the first umbrella flower with teeth, Professor! It’s one of a kind because the species itself is unique. It floats like an umbrella flower and has teeth like a fanged geranium...”

Kate watched proudly as Micael’s other classmates came up to support him in his rehearsed explanation, some interrupting the speech out of excitement at being able to contribute something.

“And you did this on your own?” Suddenly the children fell silent and looked at the ground or anywhere but Mawut’s face.

“They’ve done all the hard work,” Kate interjected, “Finding the plant, germinating it, growing the geraniums, crossing the two species...”

“How wonderful... can I read your notes?” Mawut let out a laugh as a mountain of notebooks were at his disposal in a matter of seconds. “Maybe just one will be enough.”

The teacher’s kindness managed to relax Kate just a little.

“I’ve got better at my flying practice, Coach Mawut!” Greta commented, “Do you think I’ll ever be as good as Lena?” Kate raised her head at the familiar name.

“I’m sure you will.”

“Who?” she asked to extend that conversation.

“Lena?” Mawut pointed to some drawings and nodded, smiling, “Lena Yankelevich, she was an impressive seeker. Several top teams like the Vratsa Vultures or Heidelberg Harriers wanted to make contracts with her.”

“What happened?” Mawut closed the notebook and thanked Micael for his explanation. Greta tugged at Kate’s sleeve, causing the fake wand to brush against her skin.

“She died, Professor Williams...” she lamented.

“In the middle of a match… She disappeared into the mountains and never came back. Some Muggle climbers were in the area and saw her, and we found her surrounded by three men who had stolen her broom. But we shouldn’t have gone...” He paused and in a quieter voice added, “The climbers got scared when they saw us. There was a lot of commotion and they pushed Lena... down the cliff. No one knew how Lena had come to that situation.”

A witch casually approached the table and wrote something down on a piece of paper. Everyone around her watched in silence as she looked at the plant and then nodded before turning away.

Mawut went to add something else, but Libor Marek joined them.

“This is an unfair competition.... and what is this? A plant?” He grimaced, and Kate glanced at Mawut before averting her eyes to the rest of the room.

Astrid Rhode had stepped on the pallet where her lectern stood. After rearranging her papers, the witch cleared her throat and drew everyone’s attention to her.

“I can’t begin to express how wonderful it is to have all of you here on this special occasion. To honour this event, let me introduce you to Lazar Berović, a former winner of the AEDA thanks to his system to identify and capture chameleon ghouls.” Kate joined the round of applause with little interest. The man in question took Astrid’s place and started his speech.

Her mind drifted to the single hair that had fallen on her sleeve, and she dully grabbed it between two fingers as slowly as she could, making an effort of not listening the ghoul-hunting narrative they were being ‘gifted’.

She had a document whose content had expanded over the last month, completing a full page and a successfully finished project. There was nothing to keep her at that school any longer. Nothing, except the original reason she was there: to find a supposed Death Eater.

But I want to leave.

Would Dumbledore be angry if she returned early? But how much longer would she have to stay?

I want to go home. I want to go to Charlie.

Then come home.

Charlie’s voice again, echoing in her head as if he were talking to her right next to her. This time she didn’t panic, it was the push she needed to make her decision. Dumbledore would have to settle for the list.

But she would be leaving a bunch of children in the hands of a murderer. No, she’d figure it out when she was safe. If anyone wanted the scroll Kate had in her possession, she’d have to flee before it was too late.

The speech was over, and the room filled with the previous murmur of happiness and excitement.

“Excuse me...” Kate stepped away from the group, leaving Micael in charge of defending the front, and made her way to the door.

She hadn’t realised how much she’d become accustomed to the noise until she’d walked a few corridors away from the dining room. With everyone partying in the middle, Kate and the silence went hand in hand all the way to the library. Or at least, that was where she was headed, had she not come face to face with Corentin.

“Ah, Katherine, I was just on my way to the exhibition...” The librarian’s smile crumbled at the sight of her expression.

“Corentin...” she whispered, “I think... I need to get out of here.” They both looked around, but they were alone.

“And how do you plan to do that? With a carriage? They don’t leave until the 20th.”

“I have to go get my trunk and apparate. I don’t know... I’ll jump to Romania and... then to England.” Corentin shook his head.

“I’d recommend three jumps at least.”

“I don’t know that many places! I don’t know where we are!”

“Keep your voice down.” They dissimulated again as two wizards passed in front of them. They greeted each other cordially, and when they were out of range, Corentin grabbed Kate’s elbow. “Everyone is in the Dining Hall. In fifteen minutes the band Rhode has brought will start playing so everyone will be paying attention. Go to your room and stay there until I let you know.”

“What are you planning?”

“We’ll apparate together. We’ll do Sweden, Germany, France and you go to England alone.”

“Corentin...”

“You go. I’ll pick you up in half an hour.” The librarian didn’t give Kate a chance to question him, and she watched him march in his bat form down the corridor.

She turned and broke into a jog towards the side staircase on the ground floor, a shortcut that would take her to her bedroom. She slowed when she felt a presence around her. She sensed desperation by legilimency, and it wasn’t her own. Anger too, even fear.

She turned a corner, but someone was waiting for her. Strong but elegant hands clamped over her mouth and grabbed her robe, pinning her against a chest.. Her pulse quickened, as did her breathing. She tried to free herself from the arm that held her, but it was too strong.

Slowly, the hand covering her mouth slid to the side and reached her neck. Kate couldn’t breathe. She felt the hand tighten around her neck and Mer Yankelevich’s needle-like nails made contact with her skin.

“Give me your wand.” Kate made a movement too sharp for the teacher’s liking and she gripped her tighter. “Slowly.” She tried to take a deep breath, but she had begun to shake in such a way she couldn’t concentrate on her breathing. “Give me your wand, now.”

With an idea half-formed in her head, she moved her left arm to release the wand. Seeing her, Mer snatched it from her hand and jabbed it into her back. “Let’s go for a walk. Don’t even think about running or screaming” They strolled to the other end of the ground floor. They passed by several wizards and in the eyes of the world everything was normal.

Just as the teacher muttered “Incarcerous” the Weasley twins’ wand trap rose into the air and began to hit Mer in the head. Taking advantage of her absent-mindedness, Kate broke free of her grip and ran off in search of the front door. She pulled her real wand out of her other sleeve, knowing Mer was very close behind her.

Just a little closer.

She ran through the sea of people in front of the door, hoping to get lost in the crowd. She glanced back as she went, but there was no sign of the teacher.

She left the castle with bated breath, and hastily pulled her diary from her pocket, muttered ‘Reducto’ turning it into a tiny, almost unrecognisable object, and continued running towards the bridge.

Maybe she could take refuge in the forest, go to the coordinates Dumbledore had given her, maybe the stranger would find her if it was an emergency. She cursed when she remembered she had burned the map.

She was about to reach the other side of the bridge when something hit her from behind, causing her to fall to the ground.

With a scream she hit the stone, and from the ground she saw Mer Yankelevich striding towards her. She looked around frantically, searching for her wand. She reached out and drew the weapon towards her before pointing it at the teacher.

Yankelevich paused, pointing her wand at Kate, and waited for her to rise from the ground. Both witches stared down at each other in a duelling stance, and the spells soon began to explode. Kate fought back as best she could, trying to remember some of Marek’s tricks, but Mer was the Charms teacher and she knew that at any moment she would tire herself out until she lost.

“You’ve got something that’s mine!” shouted Mer between curses.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Kate started to walk backwards, trying to go around Mer and turn her back on the castle, but the teacher was quicker and cornered her against the bridge wall.

“The stone! Where is it?”

“I don’t have any stone!” Kate peeled away from the bridge wall, dodging spells with little grace. One in particular made her ears pop, and she could barely hear Mer accusing her of lying repeatedly.

“How did you get in the room?” shouted Yankelevich, “The column broke!” Kate gasped as a stunning spell hit her leg and she staggered backwards. Focused on not falling to the floor, she didn’t notice the parchment flying out of her robes.

“You broke it?” Kate asked as she tried to catch her breath, “Why?”

“It wasn’t on purpose. That’s the entrance to Grindelwald’s room, and I was trying to open it.” She took a few steps towards Kate, pointing her wand at her. “So tell me; how did you get in?” her accusatory tone made the young witch flinch. Kate bit her tongue, physically, to avoid revealing how wrong she was. In case she didn’t make it out of this situation alive, the teacher must not know her way into the room.

With Charlie in mind, she lowered her wand, hoping to give Yankelevich a sense of security. Band music began to play from inside the castle, conveniently deafening those inside and isolating them from the catastrophe that may or may not be occurring on the bridge.

In only an instant, Kate noticed how the teacher got distracted by the sound of the instruments and took advantage of her glance over her head to begin a duelling offensive. Mer defended herself gracefully, dodging and occasionally returning her opponent’s attacks. Kate’s chances diminished with each spell.

Yankelevich turned her back on the castle, and it was at that moment Kate realised her previous oversight. There, at the feet of the person who might be her executioner, the list of Death Eaters’ names lay within her grasp.

“Mer,” she began cautiously, “all this is for your sister? None of this is worth it.”

“What do you know! Do you have a dead sibling? You have no idea...” It was a stab in the heart without knowing it. The internal debate in Kate’s stomach was making her dizzy, and as she considered whether to tell her story, the teacher crouched at the sight of the document. “We all lose loved ones. Angelov, Jorgensen, Marek, myself.” Mer ignored her.

“So this is how Karkarov intended to communicate with the Ministry...” The parchment flew through the air as Kate’s spell impacted against the teacher’s hand. Both witches began a dance of lights and explosions again, swirling around unknowingly gravitating towards each other.

The castle doors burst open and a third wave of spells shot towards them. Libor Marek was almost galloping in their direction furiously airing his wand.

“Mer!”

Kate let out a choked cry as Yankelevich twisted her arm backwards. She had managed to physically reach her and after pulling at her forearm, one hand with threatening nails anchored her neck against the teacher’s chest; with the other, she pointed her wand at Kate’s temple.

Both witches looked at Marek with completely opposite expressions.

“Mer... Let go of the girl.” He warned, holding up a hand.

“Look, your guardian angel has arrived. Day after day, that man has been preventing you and I from having a friendly chat, always sitting outside your classroom, hovering in the corridors without letting you out of his sight,” she turned to Marek, “tell me Libor, what has this girl done for you?”

“This is not about her. You think I don’t know you were seeing Karkarov on the sly? You think I don’t know that you threatened to turn him in to the Ministry? You think I don’t know that you’re the one who’s been trying to get to that imaginary room?”

“It’s real! She got in with the help of the bat she has as a friend. And now she’s going to tell me how.”

Kate couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You knew?” The accusation was drowned out when the grip around her neck tightened. “She tried to kill Flavia! She practically couldn’t speak!”

“And who do you think stopped her from going to the hospital wing to finish the job, huh?”

“Enough.” Mer finished. She forced Kate to walk to the bridge wall and bent her over the stone. She stared straight into the eyes of the abyss; the fog prevented her from seeing the end, if the cliff had one, and she knew that if she didn’t act soon all that would be left of her would be her memory. “I’m only going to ask you one more time. You found the resurrection stone, where is it?”

“There was no stone!”

She felt the needle stick as if it had happened in slow motion. She brought her hand to her neck as Mer released her and managed to drop to the ground just before the barrage of spells between her and Marek reached her. If she was dizzy before, now she was convinced she was going to throw up.

She slid down the stone to the ground as her vision blurred. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, trying to maintain some control over her body. Spotting her wand near her, she awkwardly crawled towards it, avoiding a violet light that flew treacherously close to her.

She tried to get to her feet, but instantly collapsed again. The nausea was increasing, her vision was blurring more and more, her pulse was throbbing. She pushed her hair out of her face as best she could and rubbed her eyes, but she couldn’t quite focus on the dancing figures circling before her.

Corentin was waiting for her somewhere, probably by the door of her room to take her to a safer place. But she couldn’t reach him, not without the list.

Kate frantically searched for the paper somewhere on the bridge, hoping with all her might that the wind wouldn’t suddenly pick up. Moving her head like that did not help her condition, and the migraines she had been experiencing made their appearance to reinforce her misfortune.

Where were the cavalry? Why was no one from the castle coming to the rescue?

A bitter taste rose in her throat, forcing her to spit out some saliva, which to her horror was whitish. 

No one would come to help her. She would have to save herself.

With what little energy she had left, she stumbled to her feet and took a few steps towards the other side of the bridge. The list was at her fingertips, but the world was spinning and twisting, and now both hands were trembling.

The moment her hand made contact with the paper, a spell exploded against the stone above her head. But she couldn’t back out now. She reached out and caught the parchment between her fingers. She pointed her wand at herself, still shaking, and felt the familiar tug in her stomach that would pull her out. Yankelevich looked with terrified eyes at what was about to happen and pointed her wand at Kate.

The green light of the unforgivable curse never grazed her.

  Kate collapsed to the floor of the grimy Grimmauld Place street with a sob. Corentin had warned her about this; I recommend at least three jumps, the librarian had said.

Lying on the floor with her arms stretched out on her sides, she looked to her right; her eyes were full of tears and her arm full of blood. 

I recommend at least three jumps.

She felt herself choked up again. This time, some foam adorned the corners of her lips, while trying to reach her wand with her left hand.

Three weary taps against the ground caused the building in front of her to awaken, revealing the door of the Black family home. Breathing was getting harder and harder, and with her ears increasingly clogged, Kate tried, to no avail, to stop her splinching from bleeding. Without dittany, it would be impossible.

She raised her wand towards the building with a groan. Unable to utter a word, she concentrated on firing several red lights into the windows. Some bounced off the walls and others off the glass, and she prayed it would be enough, for keeping her arm up was draining her strength.

As the convulsions became more violent, her hand fell to the floor with the rest of her body.

Attempting to keep her eyes open, she made out figures coming out of the house; one was a lanky, black blob she likened to a Dementor by the way his cloak moved; the other was much shorter and rounder with a hint of red hair. The rest of the people who rushed at her were indistinguishable.

Severus Snape forced her eyes open with his fingers, wearing a worried expression. Recognising him, Kate screamed, or at least she thought she did. The only sound that came out of her mouth was a painful sob.

“Darling, darling, look at me, it’s going to be alright,” Molly reassured. Kate wanted to shout that nothing was right, that she was in danger, that the man who was pouring the contents of a potion down her throat was a traitor.

The convulsions hadn’t stopped yet, but the unbearable burning in her arm did. She wanted to watch her wound heal, but Molly clutched her tear-soaked cheek preventing her from seeing the amount of blood that had gushed out from her arm.

“You’ll be fine, sweetheart, you’ll be fine.”

She choked on her saliva and Molly tilted her head to help her spit out the remnants of foam. Several conversations sprang up around her; all seemed distant, like an echo in a cavern.

When the shaking stopped, the relief was almost immediate. Snape forced her jaw open, emptying a vial into her mouth again. The commotion didn’t seem to end; several wizards and witches combed the street for any Muggle witnesses, and others were busy inspecting windows and doors.

Intense pain engulfed her head and mind. Attributing it to migraines, Kate missed the long, silver strand that shot from her temple in the direction of an unknown wand. She closed her eyes, and with one last deep breath everything went black.

--

[Part 17]

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A/N: Oooooooooof I dont know how did you react to this I’m so nervous

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