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[hellokittywrites]

TEETH

primera parte.

¿se sellará la indescriptible atracción que sentías hacia Park Sunghoon con el pinchazo de un colmillo?

pair: vampire! park sunghoon x f!reader (no hay descripciones específicas de cómo luce físicamente, así que puedes imaginarla como quieras <3)

summary: sólo te diré que está inspirado en la canción teeth de enhypen, vampire academy y hierarchy ;)

warnings of part 1: menciones de mordiscos, sangre y ataques de pánico (si hay alguno más no dudes en decírmelo¡!). also, la academia se llama bram stoker en referencia al escritor de Drácula

words: 5501

segunda parte tercera parte

¿Qué tenía Park Sunghoon que siempre conseguía dejarte sin respiración? Podía ser su característica belleza principesca, casi digna del llanto de una voz poética romántica inglesa que la llamaba desde la desesperación de sólo ver fealdad. Podía ser su caminar, simple ante los ojos de los principales catadores de modelos que deben crear ellas mismas con cada paso la pasarela, pero demasiado elegante como para ser tan simple. O simplemente era el hecho de que era el ex de tu mejor amiga.

Él cortaba tu respiración desde la incertidumbre. Una chispa de interés provocaba que tu mirada quedase atrapada en su belleza, en su caminar, en su identidad. O, la identidad que él debe tener sin ningún juicio último que lo destinase así salvo la existencia de tu mejor amiga, la cual lo hacía en un ex y, por tanto, alguien que jamás debe traspasar las líneas de lo desconocido. Pues no debes saber quién es Park Sunghoon verdaderamente, no debes sentir interés ante él ni definirlo de una manera que no se resuma en tres catadoras palabras: frío, egoísta y narcisista.

Así debía ser Park Sunghoon en tu perspectiva, dentro de tu propio juicio crítico. Una sombra de fealdad y no de la belleza que tus ojos tan inocente e involuntariamente percibieron. Una imagen despectiva, para nada atractiva ya que, ¿por qué querrías a alguien frío, egoísta y narcisista en tu vida?

Pero aquella fijación silenciosa e indeterminada que tu persona padecía sufrir ante el imponente Park Sunghoon no coincidía con los asentimientos de cabeza que siempre le regalabas a Aerin, tu mejor amiga, cada vez que mencionaba a este "ser sin corazón", como ella lo definía. ¿Estaba bien juzgar a una persona sin conocerla? ¿Dejarse llevar por rumores emitidos por una clara e indiscutible subjetividad? No, claro que no lo estaba y tus padres, especialmente tu madre, te lo había inculcado, repitiéndote la misma reflexión cargada de tolerancia millones de veces, demasiadas este último verano, antes de ingresar en la prestigiosa academia Bram Stoker. Lugar en el que conociste a tu nueva y aclamada mejor amiga y lugar dónde tu secreta fijación tan vergonzosa ha nacido con el nombre de Park Sunghoon.

Jamás te habías sentido de esta forma hacia alguien en tu corta vida de veinte años. Era una constante consciencia que, si vuestros ojos se encontraban, se volvía similar al encierre que una historia produce sobre ti, llevándote consigo a lo más profundo de sus páginas, una absorción plácida que en ningún momento te hace considerar tu necesidad de libertad individual. Podía sonar demasiado particular e intenso esta comparación, pero de verdad lo sentías de esa forma: tan irreal. Más razones que hacían que tu curiosidad creciera hasta lo superlativo, quemara hasta tu propio sentido común.

Y es que cuando hacías contacto visual con Park Sunghoon, un indescriptible nacía. Una pregunta sin respuesta, una negación sin argumento. Pero, sobre todo, una atracción con, lo que parecía, una imaginaria justificación. Porque, a ver, sí, eras reservada y observadora. Una Luna que debe sentirse atraída a un Sol y no a otra Luna. En cambio, eso no sucedía así contigo. Sunghoon, otra Luna era el centro de tu capacidad de sentir atracción por alguien. Y no eras muy fanática de los romances entre personas similares, más atraída hacia los polos opuestos.

Esta ferviente situación comenzó a principio de curso, la primera vez que su persona, junto con la de su famoso grupo de amigos, entró en tu campo de visión. Con tu uniforme negro con corbata azul, te sentaste en lo que los alumnos denominaban Comedor -cafetería en tu antiguo instituto- y, jugando con la tirita de un corte en tu pulgar que el libro que te encontrabas leyendo la noche anterior causó, Park Sunghoon apareció. 

No hubo una primera impresión. No hubo una reacción. No pensaste nada. Las acciones del protagonista de la novela que leías hicieron que, ante hombres reales, no hubiese estándar alcanzable. Sí, la belleza de Sunghoon era arrebatadora, digna de ser observada por más de cinco segundos o un minuto, pero no sentiste esa necesidad. Fue como ver una obra de arte que no resonaba contigo, aunque fuese la obra más destacada y más bella de todo un siglo de artistas galardonados. 

No sentiste nada, pero al mirar de nuevo hacia tu mano para seguir observando la tirita, tu piel se encontraba lo más erizada que jamás la habías visto. Una piel de gallina casi enfermiza, con las puntas de las uñas de tus manos temblando. La confusión reinó por completo tu mente, expresándose en un ceño frunciéndose. Te acariciaste la piel cuestionándote su estado, y tus yemas de los dedos casi no la sentían. Te incorporaste un poco en la silla, colocando tus manos en tu regazo, intentando calentarlas un poco, mientras decidías no darle mucha importancia y pensar en otra cosa. Y, a la vez que decidías olvidarte de ello, tus ojos parecieron tener otra opinión distinta a la de tu mente, pues se dirigieron directamente a lo que habían visto antes de centrarse en la tirita. Tus párpados los cubrieron casi buscando detenerlos pero ya era demasiado tarde.

Unos ojos negros, profundos como el carbón, ocultos entre una piel extremadamente pálida, casi sin vida, asomándose entre dos líneas de oscuridad dada por pestañas, unos ojos brillantes ante la luz del comedor pero aun así tremendamente opacos, capturaron todo tu ser, aunque solo deberían haber capturado tu mirada. Ahora sí, la piel de gallina fue sentida. Ahora sí, los rápidos latidos de tu corazón dejaron de ser ignorados por tu cerebro. Ahora sí, tu lengua empezó a quejarse de su sequedad. Ahora sí, habías notado aquel indescriptible.

Desafíamelo con biología o con física, pero sentiste como si Park Sunghoon te hubiera activado, encendido, creado. Por aquella milésima de segundo que aquel contacto visual duró, Park Sunghoon pareció autodenominarse como dueño de tu cuerpo, controlando tus acciones con una simple mirada, manipulándote a su semejanza. Pero esto no era posible y, buscando ignorar la grandiosidad de las nuevas emociones que acababas de descubrir en ti misma, tras ver como él, sin inmutarse, rompía aquella conexión, miraste hacia otro lado.

Lado en el que se encontraba Aerin y el resto es historia.

Ahora que te encontrabas observándola durante largos periodos de tiempo, buscando que no se enterase de las miradas furtivas que le estabas lanzando a Park Sunghoon inconsciente de las mismas y el cual se encontraba bajando las barrocas escaleras de la entrada principal de la Academia, notaste la gran diferencia entre él y Aerin.

—Entiende que, por mucho que ya hayan pasado dos meses desde mi ruptura con el ser desgraciado...— Hizo una mueca con los dientes que los dejó pintados de su llamativo pintalabios rosa. Rápidamente gesticulé el mensaje y, sin vergüenza alguna, pues Sim Aerin nunca sentía vergüenza de ella misma desde el ser desgraciado; y tras una sonrisa que, como siempre, nunca le llegaba realmente a los ojos, continuó. —Lo que equivale a tres meses en el curso y por tanto, el final del semestre, he decidido dar un evento—.

Sonrió triunfalmente. No era la primera vez que Aerin hacía este tipo de "eventos", término con el que realmente definía una fiesta privada dónde lo ilegal se volvía legal por el dinero en la cartera de papá, el director de Bram Stoker, tataranieto del verdadero Bram Stoker. Nunca habías asistido a aquellas fiestas encubiertas porque eran para los alumnos SSR, es decir, los hijos de los principales dirigentes, tanto económica como políticamente, de la alta sociedad del país. Estos alumnos se diferenciaban del resto con una corbata carmesí y, aunque no pareciese real, no había un clasismo encubierto. No existía a diario una gran diferencia entre ellos y el resto de alumnos. De esta forma, que Aerin se hiciese mejor amiga de una de las estudiantes nuevas becadas de tercer año, tú, no le sorprendía a nadie.

Ni siquiera existía un trato especial para con estos alumnos por parte de los profesores. Es como si ellos hubiesen con su personalidad y acciones, hecho olvidar al resto de su verdadera posición social. Gesto que se observa en cómo no existía un grupo de populares diferenciados intocables. Salvo el grupo de Park Sunghoon, alumno obviamente SSR que junto a sus amigos Heeseung, Jay, Jake, Sunoo, Jungwon y Niki; se mantenían como el único grupo en todo Barm Stoker conformado por sólo alumnos SSR de distintos cursos.

Aerin y tú érais del mismo curso que Sunoo y, pese a lo anterior mencionado, Sunoo había mantenido plenas conversaciones amigables contigo e incluso él te consideraba una amiga. Pero no del grupo que, desde tu punto de vista, parecía una fraternidad llena de secretos. 

Podía ser que era por malas experiencias del pasado, pero una parte de ti siempre esperaba lo peor de Aerin, o lo peor de Sunoo. Todos ellos compartían esa sonrisa que jamás llegaba a sus ojos, un gesto que, bajo tu juicio, resonaba a una amistad llena de un vacío que jamás se podría cubrir. Aunque también podía ser simples suposiciones, pues Aerin no había sido mas que amable y Sunoo, más de lo mismo.

Cierto era que habías notado una ausencia de envidia o celos de los alumnos de tu rango hacia ellos. Ni una queja, ni ningún mal deseo. Ni una revolución. Es más, parecía que estaban deseosos de tener la atención de los SSR, especialmente de Sunghoon, la cara de la Academia. Un deseo que no compartías y que, siempre que escuchabas conversaciones en el baño de las chicas o tus compañeros de clase te comentaban algo entre as líneas de "ojalá poder estar con ellos", la extrañez era sembrada en tu interior. No te habías acercado primero ni a Aerin ni a Sunoo y no creías que hubieras tenido esa necesidad si ellos no lo hubieran hecho. Y, con respecto a Sunghoon, mientras sus ojos no se encontrasen con los tuyos, escapar era todavía posible.

—¡Qué buena idea!— Dijiste sin saber muy bien qué responder ante la noticia de otro evento al que, por normas establecidas desde un criterio un tanto desconocido para ti, alumnos de tu rango no estaban invitados. Aerin frunció el ceño rápidamente y sentiste un miedo irracional a haber dicho algo equivocado o a que hubiese notado tus miradas furtivas hacia Park Sunghoon. —¿Por qué el desinterés?— Su comentario, como tantos otros que desde su ruptura con Sunghoon te había dirigido, volvió a descuadrarte por un instante. Pero, y similar a lo que siempre sucedía, como si se hubiese acordado de algo tremendamente importante, ignoraba su propio comentario, en este caso una pregunta, para continuar con su monólogo, volviendo a sonreír de esa forma tan... SSR.

Aquel cambio en la actitud de Aerin hacia ti en instantes como éste fue paralelo a su desastrosa ruptura con Sunghoon. Dos semanas tardó Aerin en darse cuenta de que verdaderamente Sunghoon iba en serio en aquella conversación que, sin querer, habías escuchado un sábado lluvioso de noche, volviendo de la biblioteca de la Academia, dirigiéndote a los dormitorios que te correspondían, los de los alumnos no SSR, los azules. Además del lujo, la única diferencia con los otros era que se encontraban en un edificio separado de la Academia, al aire libre.

El libro de Literatura Universal era bastante pesado y ocupaba incómodamente gran parte la circunferencia deforme que tus brazos doblados y unidos realizaban para poder agarrarlo. Tus bailarinas negras sin tacón conseguían no hacer ruido al entrar en contacto con el suelo de baldosa a cada paso, siendo sólo posible escuchar el ruido de la lluvia. Hasta que, justo cuando ibas a girar la esquina para seguir con tu recorrido, la voz de Aerin te hizo pararte en seco justo cuando te ibas a adentrar en el pasillo en el que ella estaba.

—¿Cómo que quieres romper conmigo? ¿Tú sabes con quién estás hablando ahora mismo?— Su voz sonaba con un toque de ferocidad que jamás habías escuchado en ella al sólo conocerla desde hace un mes en este momento. El silencio le respondió. —No sólo asientas con la cabeza, Sunghoon. Eso siempre me ha sacado de quicio— Recordaste cada vez que asentiste como respuesta a una pregunta de Aerin y fue ahí donde empezaste a notar esa sonrisa SSR y, así, el modelo de sonrisa SSR.

Escuchar el nombre del mencionado te cortó la respiración del susto. ¿Por qué del susto? ¿Qué es lo que pasaba? Seguías confundida por cómo te estabas sintiendo mientras tratabas de pegarte a la pared, escondiéndote. Apretaste más el libro contra ti. 

Entonces escuchaste la voz que llamaba al latido de tu corazón a revolucionarse, como si fuese dueña de ellos, de él. Pero no de manera romántica, sino de una forma primitiva, casi depredadora. Sonaba grave, aterciopelada y un poco nasal. A tus oídos, estúpidamente un Beethoven. ¿Cómo era posible que una voz fuese catalogada de esta manera por cómo tu cuerpo se sentía al escucharla? No sabías.

—Cállate. Me tienes harto, Aerin— Frío.

—Nunca quise esto y sólo acepté por mi padre y lo sabes— Egoísta.

—Ah, espera... No me digas... ¿Te has enamorado de mi?— Narcisista.

Podías hasta casi oír la sonrisa ladina burlesca con la que había pronunciado aquellas palabras.

Fue tal y como Aerin en dos semanas te describiría a Park Sunghoon. 

Sus palabras tan duras envueltas en el sonido tentador que su voz era te aterrorizó por completo porque, en vez de cesar todo aquel juego que considerabas individual del observar el efecto que Park Sunghoon tenía sobre ti, no cabía en tu cuerpo la necesidad de volver a jugar. Así, te fuiste de aquel pasillo sin escuchar más.

Dos semanas después te "enteraste" de lo sucedido y, a partir de ese encuentro, notaste el cambio en Aerin y el esquema, además del espejismo, en el que todos los SSR parecían estar dentro.

—Bueno, olvida eso. Lo importante es que, esta vez, estás invitada— Dijo Aerin cambiando de actitud mientras daba saltitos y te abrazaba efímeramente. No te dio tiempo a corresponder el abrazo. —¿Cómo? Pero, ¿eso es posible? ¿No va contra las normas?— Aerin te miró como si tuvieras tres ojos y no dos durante un momento, para después ignorar tu negación. —Todo está permitido y es legal, creo que ya sabes quién soy— Se rio y la mención de su identidad te produjo un escalofrío.

La principal razón por la que existía una aparente igualdad entre los alumnos era porque nadie hablaba de quienes eran en realidad. Todos lo sabían, pero ellos jamás habían forzado ese conocimiento en el resto. ¿La razón? Desconocida. Así, te reíste nerviosamente, haciendo como si no hubieses escuchado sus palabras. Los ojos de Aerin brillaron. Respuesta correcta.

—No acepto un no por respuesta. El impresentable va a estar allí y necesito a mi mejor amiga para que me apoye— Su brazo rodeó tus hombros mientras os girabais para ir a clase, apareciendo Park Sunghoon en tu campo de visión, el cual estaba hablando con Heeseung y Jake cerca de la escalera por la cual le habías visto bajar inicialmente.

Estabas tan centrada en Aerin que pensaste que Park Sunghoon sólo había bajado las escaleras para después desaparecer, pero parece que había estado ahí todo el tiempo tras encontrarse con sus amigos. Fue inevitable no mirarlo mientras se te secaba la garganta y decías un "Claro Aerin" al no poder dejar jamás que ella te pirase mirándole. Aerin casi paró en seco tras darse cuenta de la presencia de Park Sunghoon. Tras titubear un momento, retomó el paso a una gran velocidad que te sorprendió. Así, con tu mente sumergida en la sorpresa, tus ojos aprovecharon para dirigirse hacia él y tu corazón latió con fuerza. Como siempre, Park Sunghoon parecía inmune a hacer contacto visual contigo. Te miraba como si estuviera mirando al vacío, haciendo un contacto similar al que haces al confundirte y sonreírle a una persona que en verdad, estaba mirando a otra parte.

Así habías llegado a la conclusión de que, en verdad, debía de estar siempre mirando en otra dirección. No provocabas en él lo que el provocaba en ti. Además, no sentías que el mismísimo Park Sunghoon mirase en tu dirección las mismas veces que tú le mirabas.

Tu interior quería su atención, la necesitaba de una forma que nunca conseguía dejar de sorprenderte. Pero él seguramente miraba a Aerin, arrepintiéndose estos dos últimos meses de su decisión de abandonarla, de ser ese Park Sunghoon frío, egoísta y narcisista, de no ser él. La conexión tan individual que sentías hacia él te hacía pensar de esta manera, apenas sin conocerlo. Unos dirán idealización, otros dirán una búsqueda de entendimiento de tus propios gustos. Yo digo una satisfacción de los deseos de tu yo más profundo que parecía que sólo él podía brindarte...

Pero él estaba por Aerin. Estabas convencida.

Pero oh, cómo te equivocabas.

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

Tras llegar al comedor casi escapando de su ex, Aerin te sentó en uno de los bancos, justo al lado de Sunoo. La miraste con duda, temiendo su reacción ante el encuentro con Park Sunghoon. Pero, para tu sorpresa, y en contradicción con sus apretados puños casi blancos por sus puntiagudas uñas, estableció. —El evento es este sábado, siento que te avisara tan tarde pero me estaba asegurando de que pudieras venir con seguridad y déjame decirte que... qué segura estoy— Pronunció esto último mirando hacia el horizonte, gesto que te descuadró un poco. Miraste a Sunoo, el cual te la devolvió con una sonrisa ladina. —¡Hay que prepararse!— Le sonreíste de vuelta mientras un sentimiento asfixiante se asentaba en tu pecho. Lo llamaste hambre pero y tras comer, el hambre no puede durar... ¿verdad?

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

Park Sunghoon no estaba mirando a Aerin precisamente. Desde que te vio por primera vez, todas sus convicciones de haber estado vivo temblaron -y mira que ha estado vivo por mucho tiempo-, ya que fue observándote (y después de hacerlo) cuando fue totalmente consciente de que no estaba ciego, de que sus ojos observaban una realidad cuyos colores sólo podía conocer a través de ellos, que realmente observar es una acción impersonal en la que el objeto que ha conseguido toda su atención, se vuelve lo más importante para él, aunque sólo sea por un segundo, una milésima, un simple pestañeo.

Cuando Park Sunghoon te observaba, no podía centrarse en nada más. Pero esta esclavitud de su concentración no estaba producida por resultar cautivado ante tu presencia, no. Era porque, por muy irracional que sonase, Park Sunghoon se sentía responsable de cada movimiento que hacías, cada respiración, cada paso. Era totalmente exasperante. Poco a poco, su sanidad se veía intoxicada por ti y, cuando eran tus ojos los responsables de su gran carga, Park Sunghoon quería más de ti. ¿El qué exactamente? No tenía ni la remota idea. O de eso se intentaba convencer.

Tampoco, según él, tuviste ninguna influencia en su decisión de terminar su trato, su engaño con Aerin. Y, tras ahora abandonar el hall con su ex, tampoco sintió las inmensas ganas de que te dieras la vuelta, volviéndole a brindar toda tu atención.

—Parece que Aerin te sigue odiando, Sunghoon— Sim Jake mencionó mientras que, con los brazos cruzados en el pecho, hacía una mueca de cansancio hacia donde Aerin antes se encontraba contigo. Eran primos lejanos y, tantos años juntos (demasiados), habían creado una atmósfera un tanto extraña. Su pelo rubio se movió también, al nunca estar tan controlado por Jake como le gustaría. Esto lo distrajo por un momento y no se fijó en como Sunghoon siguió mirando hacia aquella salida, contemplativo. Gesto que no paso de largo por Lee Heeseung.

—Ah, ya.— Fue simplemente lo que Sunghoon le respondió. A esto, Jake gesticuló con cierta energía.

—¿Esa es tu reacción? ¿No estuvisteis saliendo juntos durante todo el verano?—Sunghoon miró a Jake con cierto aburrimiento.

—Nunca fue seriamente— Jake miró con shock a Heeseung mientras cerraba la boca.

Heeseung, tras mirar un segundo a Sunghoon, hizo contacto con Jake y tras ver su sorpresa, rompió su silencio. —¿Qué? ¿No lo sabías?— Jake negó con la cabeza un poco, todavía sorprendido. Heeseung rio mientras le daba un suave golpe en el brazo. —Eso te pasa por siempre irte a Australia en verano— Jake lo empujó y comenzó a caminar hacia el comedor, negando con la cabeza.

—No es mi culpa que mi familia sea de allí— Refunfuñando, fue seguido por Heeseung. Sunghoon, un tanto sonriente ante las reacciones de su amigo, les siguió también, unos pasos por detrás.

Jake, que iba unos pasos más por delante, se giró y, tras dirigirle una mirada de disculpa, se colocó junto a Sunghoon. —No pasa nada, Jake— Rio este último mientras Heeseung esperaba a que llegasen a su altura, aprovechando para seguir observando la actitud de Sunghoon. —¡Perfecto entonces! Porque me acabo de acordar de la gran noticia. Aerin hará otro de sus eventos este fin de semana—.

Llegaron a la altura de Heeseung y Sunghoon simplemente resopló. —Vamos Sunghoon, el rol de vegetariano no te va muy bien—

Heeseung miró a Jake de soslayo, esperando que no siguese por ese camino. Sunghoon se tensó al momento. —No soy un asesino—.

Su tono frío le recordó a Jake por qué era un tema sensible pero, buscando reconfortar a su amigo, continuó.

—Tranquilo Sunghoon, es sólo pasarlo bien. Nunca ha muerto nadie así que no deberías— Heeseung interrumpió. —Mejor cambiamos de tema, ¿vale?—

Siendo el mayor de los tres, tanto Jake como Sunghoon dejaron de mirarse para asentir y continuar caminando. —Ahora que lo pienso no se si suena tan bien... Aerin va a llevar a su amiga, así que será su protegida— Jake lo mencionó con toda la buena intención del mundo, pero a Sunghoon no le gustó ni un pelo el tono decepcionante que usó Jake ni la mirada compasiva que Heeseung le dirigió.

Una necesidad casi primaria de prohibir a todo aquel que no sea él de mencionarte en los términos a los que Jake se refería perforó sus instintos y casi llegó a hablar para expresar tu súbito estatus como suya. Claro que Sunghoon fue el primero que se paró a sí mismo, extrañado ante sus sentimientos y negando absolutamente una posibilidad de necesitar protegerte o, peor aún, de morderte.

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

Llegó el sábado sin anormalidad ninguna. Tampoco era como si estuvieses esperando algún cambio en la monótona vida académica que llevabas, o eso te repetías continuamente. El final del semestre se había dado el día después de que Aerin te invitara a aquel evento y de que te lo anunciara. Así pasaste el miércoles, jueves y viernes sin clases en tu dormitorio sólo compartido por ti y tu soledad. Aunque no sólo estuviste pudriéndote en tu cama con un buen libro, sino que también quedaste con Aerin y Sunoo en una especie de bosques interiores que existían en la Academia.

Un diseño arquitectónico que jamás habías visto, pues toda la academia se encontraba cubierta de patios interiores con la única excepción de la salida a los dormitorios de los alumnos azules.

Acostumbrada a las ventanas y, especialmente, a estar en contacto con el Sol, la estructura de las aulas y de la academia entera en general te resultó al principio un tanto agobiante. Techos infinitos que formaban triángulos afilados apoyados en altas paredes que sólo se encontraban agujereadas por ventanas en lo más alto. Escuchar por primera vez las campanadas de lo que parecía Notre Dame te había sorprendido. Antes de trasladarte, sabías de la apariencia tétrica de la academia, pero cada techo formaba un escondijo perfecto para el mismísimo Fantasma de la Ópera.

Pero nadie más que tú parecía extrañada, así que la normalidad fue sencillamente fácil de alcanzar.

La tela roja que conformaba tu vestido imitaba a tu propia piel al abrazarse con gracia y elegancia a la silueta de tu cuerpo. Sunoo te había convencido para elegir aquel vestido, haciendo hincapié en su gusto exquisito, cualidad que la misma Aerin no compartía pese a ser también una alumna SSR. Ella vestía bien, pero Sunoo más. La mirada indescifrable que Aerin te había regalado tras verte con aquel vestido a la salida de la academia (el evento se celebraba en una de las tantas casas sofisticadas de propiedad del director de la academia, es decir, del padre de Aerin), provocó una cierta inseguridad en tu apariencia. Fue Sunoo que, tras encargarse de tu pelo, asesinó cualquier sentimiento de duda.

—Estás exquisita—Estableció tras hacer contacto visual a través del espejo que el chófer de Aerin siempre traía consigo. Tu ceño se frunció ligeramente ante el uso de aquel adjetivo entre los tantos similares que podría haber usado pero, centrándote en la Luna que se dejaba ver a través del cristal, sonreíste con gratitud.

Aerin con su vestido verde oliva también lucía absolutamente preciosa y, la forma en la que había mencionado a Sunghoon con tono de venganza, entre las líneas de "se arrepentirá de haberme dejado" tras Sunoo alabarla, sonaba más a una auto convicción que una promesa.

No decidiste prestar atención a cómo siguió la conversación porque... Sunghoon. Una adrenalina provocada por un estímulo que no sabías muy bien identificar se había asentado en tu vientre, haciendo casi temblar tus manos. Ahora el hambre era adrenalina.

Tu intuición te avisaba de que hoy no iba a ser como las otras veces, una presa que consigue escapar por la indiferencia de su depredador. Hoy, tu intuición te hacía asesina de tu propio juicio, o eso es el destino que ésta selló. ¿Iba a ser así? No tenias la prueba científica... ni siquiera sabías exactamente por qué te sentías así. Pero, cada vez que Park Sunghoon se hacía camino entre tus otros pensamientos hasta llegar al centro de tu mente consciente, la adrenalina se descontrolaba. Morirías de hambre a este paso.

Aunque tu juicio, todavía vivo, no quiso atender, ya que ¿por qué pasaría algo con Park Sunghoon justo hoy tras tres meses de simple atracción no correspondida?

De nuevo, erraste en el primer momento en el que estableciste que a Park Sunghoon le eras indiferente.

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

El trayecto fue corto y simple, lleno de ilusión. No sabías que te esperaba y la cantidad de anécdotas que Aerin y Sunoo te contaban hicieron que tuvieses grandes expectativas. Tenías pensado pasarlo bien, intentando ignorar tus presentimientos, ya sean malos o buenos. Además de que todo iría bien, como muchas veces Aerin y Sunoo habían repetido porque ibas en calidad de su "protegida". Todavía no habías entendido muy bien qué significaba aquel término y las respuestas evasivas de Aerin no te aclaraban nada. Pero como estabas centrada en disfrutar del momento buscando cesar tu personalidad de naturaleza tan responsable que te ahogaba con el constante recordatorio de la existencia de consecuencias que tus actos podían llegar a producir, no insististe más.

Hasta que los viste. Varios pares, casi centenares, brillantes y puntiagudos, escondidos, casi tímidos en las distintas bocas por las que se asomaban. Colmillos.

Entrar en la fiesta que se estaba dando en la piscina no supuso ningún alteridad de tu intención inicial: pasarlo bien porque todo iría bien. Ni rastro de colmillos, nada. Simplemente te extrañaron dos cosas. La primera: ¿cómo una fiesta con tanta gente tenía tan poca iluminación, dependiendo solamente de la luz de la luna para ver? Aerin te habló de un apagón temporal. La segunda: ver la cantidad de parejas que se encontraban besándose en el cuello. Sunoo te dijo que eras demasiado inocente, hecho probablemente cierto.

Nada alarmante, nada alterante. Hasta que, tras estar bailando cinco canciones seguidas con Aerin y Sunoo (realmente te lo estabas pasando en grande), un pin pon con un borracho Jungwon y un descanso en la cocina con Jake y más conocidos; te excusaste para ir al baño.

Llevabas cerca de dos horas en aquella fiesta y sin una gota de alcohol en el estómago (sorprendentemente sólo había vino y Aerin no te lo recomendó al ser de mala calidad, pese a, después y desde la cocina, verla bebiéndolo), pensaste que buscar el baño no iba a suponer un gran reto. Pero te perdiste y caminando por el segundo piso sin rumbo alguno, la suerte preció estar de tu lado cuando lo encontraste.

Todo iba tan bien, tan perfectamente bien que mientras acercabas tu mano al pomo de la puerta entreabierta sonreíste para ti misma, sintiendo que habías juzgado todo demasiado meticulosamente, dándole la razón a tu madre. Hasta que lo escuchaste.

—Muérdeme, por favor— Una voz femenina y un sonido de piel desgarrándose rompieron el silencio de aquel blanco pasillo del segundo piso y, levantando la cabeza, viste a un Heeseung mordiéndole el cuello a una chica que no conocías haciéndolo sangrar.

Tus mofletes se calentaron y te apartaste rápidamente. Los gemidos de ella y los gruñidos de él anularon cualquier sonido que pudiste llegar a hacer mientras te alejabas, buscando volver a la piscina. Buscabas quitarte aquella imagen de la cabeza, aunque la sorpresa era indudable. Sabías que había gente a la que el dolor le producía placer y nunca te habías considerado una de esas hasta que viste aquella sangre corriéndole por su cuello. ¿Por qué tu cuello no paraba de palpitar?

Bajaste la escalera y echando una ojeada al primer piso para distraerte, volviste a encontrarte con la misma posición. En este caso, era Jake con una chica que tampoco conocías. Rápidamente seguiste bajando las escaleras, llegando al porche. Tu corazón latía demasiado fuerte y decidiste pese a lo que Aerin te había dicho, beber el vino servido. Necesitabas alcohol para quitarte aquella sensación.

Así te llevaste el vaso a la boca en la soledad de una desierta cocina. Todos estaban en la piscina bailando o besándose el cuello, pues la cantidad de parejas parecía haberse multiplicado desde el inicio de la fiesta. Verlas así te devolvió el recuerdo de lo que minutos antes habías visto y, ya sin dudas, te llevaste el vaso a la boca.

Un sabor metálico y un tanto caliente hizo contacto con tu lengua. Escupiste al momento. ¿Por qué aquel vino sabía a sangre? Abriste la nevera con la necesidad de quitarte aquel horrible sabor de la boca y las viste.

Más de veinte envases de plástico con etiquetas que ponían nombres de distintos animales en rojo te recibieron tras abrir la nevera. Era sangre de animal. El estómago te dio un vuelco y sentiste arcadas. Rápidamente fuiste al grifo y bebiste agua pese a nunca gustarte beber de él.

Mientras te limpiabas la boca notando que el gloss todavía resistía en tus labios, lo que habías visto anteriormente ya no te pareció una simple coincidencia. Así, con el ceño fruncido y una valentía calculadora, te acercaste a la piscina y observaste tus alrededores,¡. Destellos blancos similares a perlas parecían reflejar la luz de la Luna en aquellas parejas que ya no estaban unidas por un beso. Mirándolo mejor, era un mordisco.

Tu respiración se aceleró casi entrando en un ataque de pánico hasta que viste la figura de Aerin y Sunoo. Sinti��ndote infinitamente aliviada, ibas a empezar a caminar para ir hacia ellos hasta que Sunoo abrió la boca tras acercarse al cuello de Aerin y viste con tus propios ojos como los dientes de Sunoo se transformaban en afilados colmillos que perforaron la piel de Aerin, haciéndola sangrar.

Las caricias de Aerin y sus ojos cerrados por placer fue la señal que necesitaste para darte cuenta de que había un consenso, de que esto era normal, de que esto era lo que pasaba en estos eventos.

Tu mente empezó a dar muchas vueltas, especialmente por el hecho de que no sabías muy bien qué tipo de culto de imitación vampírica se estaba llevando a cabo. Tu respiración se aceleró y entraste de nuevo en la casa, buscando escapar. Subiste la escalera hasta el primer piso sin darte cuenta de que Jake podría seguir allí (tampoco pensaste en ello del estado de shock en el que estabas entrando). Esta vez subiste hasta arriba de todo, no parando en el segundo piso. Necesitabas alejarte de fuese lo que fuese que estaba pasando abajo y, por alguna razón, ir arriba del todo. Necesitar ir arriba del todo.

Rápidamente, llegaste a la cima de las escaleras que consistía en una puerta ligeramente normal para el lujo del resto de la casa. Estaba entreabierta y la brisa nocturna salía de aquella. Justo lo que necesitabas en ese momento, lo que más anhelabas en ese momento estaba detrás de esa puerta. Así, cumpliste esa necesidad abriéndola y penetrándola.

Con las manos en los bolsillos y sus dos mechones de flequillo moviéndose en un dócil aleteo que la brisa nocturna provocaba, la figura esbelta e imponente de Park Sunghoon te recibió y sus profundos y mortales ojos se clavaron en tu persona sin titubeo ni expresión, pero con la intensidad de un contacto anhelado en sueños.

"Él es lo que necesito, mi sueño cumplido"

‧͙⁺˚･༓☾　　☽༓･˚⁺‧͙

notes 1: la segunda parte está en camino y esta semana estará terminada... no tengo pensado hacer más así que esto sería un one shot de dos partes (?). aunque si se me ocurre algún drabble pues quién sabe juju. espero verte en la segunda parte ilysm <3

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡

notes 2: omg!! el primer fic en español que escribo por aquí... veremos. si te ha gustado puedes dar un like y rebloguear y, si te sientes amable, un comentario me haría super happy. no he visto muchos blogs escribir en español de enhypen e intimida un poco 🙂‍↔️ solo espero que te lo hayas pasado bien leyéndolo como yo escribiéndolo jusjus. i love you <3

[goldenhypen]

; ⎯ GOLDENHYPEN’S DARK BLOOD REQUEST EVENT ?! [CLOSED]

in celebration of enhypen’s new comeback, dark blood, i will be opening drabble requests! here are the rules:

send me an ask with:

one prompt from this list;

an enhypen member of your choice;

any storyline/details/genres you’re eager to read.

reminder that this is a sfw blog, meaning, all works are sfw skdjdj

only one request per ask please!

you can submit multiple requests, just separate them into one req per ask.

please be patient! i’ll try to get all requests out asap but please understand that i do have a life outside of tumblr too :)

i would also suggest reading the general req rules before submitting anything just in case; if i receive a request that breaks any of these, i’ll have to turn it down :(

also to clarify, the drabbles don’t have to do anything with dark blood or the concept or anything (unless you want it to be!) i just thought doing prompt requests again would be fun at a time like this!

and another thing, because these will be drabbles, this means your request will likely not end up being over 1k words.

i don’t have a deadline yet but for now i’ll aim to keep it open for a week or so (keep an eye on my pinned post to see the status of requests). happy requesting! REQUESTS ARE NOW CLOSED!

[chuuyrr]

idk if its because of my exams (which are still not finished) but im feeling very out of this blog

[chlorinecake]

Omg did you see that @xxsunoosprincess posy. She said she won't write for nikixreader fanfics because he's young and that minors can't request FLUFF FICS for him at all and she will block them if they do like ok So you're not ok writing non expicit stuff for niki niki reader fluff for readers who are in his age group (16-18)( I'm 17) but you're ok writing a niki x Jake fanfic when Jake is a 21 year old man and him and niki probably see each other as brothers ok I see where your standards lie

Yeahhh, I went to go and read the post on her blog just now, but as a fellow writer, I respect the boundaries she’s set in place for her content, even if they may seem odd or silly to others 🥴

Sure, some of her current values might not align with her past actions, but she’s just doing what any good author should do and that’s set personal boundaries … all we should rlly do as consumers tho is either support those rules or leave it at that 🤷‍♀️

[simplepotatofarmer]

summary: on a cold winter's night, techno and his friends, niki and phil, find a way to pass the time and celebrate their time together when an unexpected visitor arrives.

written for @curoopeez for the @technoblade-gift-exchange!

[seishun-emergency]

Words: 3867 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Amagi Rinne/Shiina Niki Characters: Amagi Rinne, Shiina Niki, HiMERU | OreMERU (Ensemble Stars!), Oukawa Kohaku Additional Tags: kanata also shows up briefly, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Pet Names, Developing Relationship, Idiots in Love Summary:

“I’ll be home by seven,” Rinne says.

Niki sighs. He knows what Rinne is asking him. “I have work until eight,” he tells Rinne, “so if you want dinner from me tonight you’ll have to wait, okay! No dragging me out of work early!”

Rinne grins. “Your cooking’s always worth waitin’ for, honey! Okay, byeeee~!”

And with his signature, hyena-like cackle, Rinne slams the door to the practice room shut behind him.

“Niki-han,” Kohaku says. Niki cranes his neck to meet Kohaku’s eyes, but as soon as he does Kohaku gets this strange look on his face and looks away.

“Hm? What’s up?”

There’s an awkward pause when Kohaku doesn’t answer, still looking away from Niki. And then HiMERU breaks the silence, saying, “Shiina… does Amagi regularly call you by terms of endearment?”

Niki laughs. “Terms of endearment? What are you—” His eyes widen, and he shoots up from where he was laying on the floor, a couple stray granola bars falling off of his chest at the movement. “Oh. Oh, Rinne-kun called me honey.”

-

or, five times rinne calls niki by a pet name, and one time niki does it back

[a-very-fond-farewell]

anxiety level: imma cry at the thought of finally having 1 hour to myself to just vibe 👯‍♀️

(time to write)

[peninkwrites]

Lines Drawn in Sand & Concrete - Ch 6 of ?

Niki feels like she's in a tea kettle. Wilbur is alive out of reluctant obligation.

[CW: description of injuries, dead bodies, discussion of suicidal thoughts.]

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 5

Ch 7

Mafia AU

~ Niki & Wilbur ~

Niki doesn’t like the way things are heading.  She would have thought after Schlatt’s death there would be some peace, instead, she has new reasons to worry.  It’s like she can measure the health of the city by the attendance at the Secret City. She rarely sees any of the Badlanders, Puffy only on rare occasion, and always busy and absentminded.  Even more worrying to her, Tommy and Tubbo don’t come to the Secret City very much anymore, and never together.  Ranboo, already quiet, has gotten quieter.

Niki’s business worries have at least declined.  In Schlatt’s absence, her profits have nearly doubled, or rather, she’s kept the other half of her income she’d been making before.  She doesn’t have to reorder alcohol from Puffy as often, which is another good thing considering Puffy seems to be dealing with her own troubles at present.  In theory, Niki should be doing better than ever.  She’s not.

The bloodiest parts of this mess are probably what should scare her the most, but she isn’t sure.  Bodies are turning up in the streets, and since Tubbo has apparently taken on the mantle of controlling the streets, she’d expected the violence to die down, but it hasn’t.  The Badlanders are more aggressive, territorial and secretive, and Tubbo’s lot––she doesn’t really know what to call them, they’re certainly not Schlatt’s dogs anymore––are too bold, bold in the way a cat puffs up to scare away a bigger animal.  Attendance at the speakeasy has died down in part due to that.  People are nervous to go out at night, because if it’s not the gangs getting into petty scuffles around the block, it’s other dead.  Someone is attacking people deemed undesirable.  Niki’s speakeasy caters to no one but the undesirable.  She doesn’t know what worries her more, the dead bodies, often times faces she recognizes as local common criminals, and those she doesn’t recognize, she can guess also share similar records, or the ones who aren’t murdered. 

It seems there is one person behind this threat, or maybe a group sharing the same mask.  People will ask to spend the night at the Secret City, skittish and bruised.  They’re not hardened criminals––largely because it seems this person doesn’t like to let hardened criminals live––the people that come to her for help, injured but alive, they’re the homeless, they’re fences who work on the street, people like Karl doing something harmless like selling stolen watches, and whoever is out there, lurking like a ghost, thinks that warrants bloody retribution?  This is wrong.  All of it, whatever is happening out there, she feels like she’s trapped in the bottom of a kettle, waiting for the pressure to build and finally boil over.  She’s considered on more than one occasion moving the bakery, finding property deep in Puffy’s territory, Puffy had offered her help more than once, but she can’t bring herself to do it.  This is where she’s always been, it’s where people know to go, and changing that now, it feels unfair.  She won’t abandon any of them.  Tubbo still keeps her bakery safe, actually safe, not in any manner like Schlatt’s so-called protection, and he does so perhaps viciously, but at least for now, there’s no reason for her to move.  Not really.

Trouble does not keep itself neatly contained in the streets away from her and her family, nor is it always something so blunt as violence.  Her little brother doesn’t talk to her.  He doesn’t go out with Tommy and Tubbo.  He just works.  Niki will tell him he doesn’t have to, that she’s fine on her own and he can go see friends, but Ranboo just shrugs and says “they’re busy.  I’d rather just hang out with you right now.”  Niki isn’t used to Ranboo not telling her things, nor Tubbo and Tommy.  She prefers when they had stumbled home after getting into trouble and immediately babbled a confession at her, like her knowing was important somehow, like she could always make things right.  It doesn’t feel that long ago.  Where Tubbo had learned he could tell her when something had gone wrong and there wouldn’t be harsh consequences, where Tommy trusted her enough to not act like a guarded, hunted dog, all bark and no bite, and instead had talked to her like her help wasn’t a threat.  And Ranboo, who did things for himself and not for her for once in his life; he’d run around with his friends and had come home late sometimes and had finally had something to actually apologize to her for. 

Niki doesn’t know why that has slipped away.  Tubbo had acted oddly, cutting off Quackity and arguing in her speakeasy––Niki cannot remember Tubbo ever raising his voice like that, let alone in front of an audience––and he never looks open to conversation when he does still turn up, he just sits quietly in the corner with Jack, the two of them talking in hushed tones and Niki knows they stop talking whenever she walks too close.  It hurts, and worse than hurt, it’s wrong.  Her boys don’t sneak around her unless it’s for shoplifting from a sweet shop or trying to smuggle an injured squirrel into Ranboo’s bedroom.

The nights Tommy still turns up––rarely on the nights Tubbo is there, and never together, and if someone is there, whoever was there first will find some excuse to leave, which is profoundly wrong––if Tommy is there it’s usually to heckle Wilbur.  Tommy seems unchanged, he’s still loud and a bit rude and always ready for a good joke, but Niki knows him better.  There’s the more surface-level changes, he’s a bit scruffier than usual, and there’s this strange duality of him being more quick to refuse her offers of help and more inclined to ask for it.  She’ll ask if he wants to spend the night and he jumps to say no, but that same day he’ll ask her if she has anything leftover from the bakery that she needs to toss.  Always with a joking tone, like he’s just a teenager with a sweet tooth, but Niki knows it’s different now.  She buries the urge to ask him, “are you not eating enough?” because she knows doing so will make Tommy not accept anything. 

There are deeper changes too, ones she has to look more carefully for.  Tommy comes to the Secret City alone.  He will still talk with Ranboo, he’ll talk with her, and oddly enough he’d talk quite a bit with Wilbur, but in the pauses in between his usual rough banter, when he’s stopped taunting Wilbur, he looks tense.  He looks tense like he did before he realized the speakeasy was for people like him.  Tommy views strangers as threats or targets or often both.  He moves through the world like a prey animal and a scavenger, but Niki hasn’t seen that tension cross her doorstep in a long time.  He looks tired too.  Maybe as tired as Tubbo does.

She can’t read Ranboo anymore.  She thinks he might know more about what’s going on than she does, but she’s not sure.  She’s never not sure.  When she asks, Ranboo is always neutral and avoidant in reply, and it’s hard to decide if he looks more worried when she asks about them or if that’s just the persisting, quiet anxiety he’s worn for weeks now.

Niki is good at not prying, to a point.  She’s been perhaps too lenient with Wilbur, who had turned up so mysteriously.  She’d done the basics, told him he should look for a job, that he can’t live on their couch forever, but that doesn’t tell her much.  Wilbur had once been her best friend.  That was a long time ago.  Still, between the two of them, Niki finds it easier to dig a little more at a man she hasn’t seen in years than at her little brother about his friends who might be her little brothers too.

“Morning, Wil,” Niki says.  It’s Monday.  The Bakery closes on Mondays, it gives them time to rest from the weekend rush.  Hence, this is one of the few times she’s still in the apartment when Wilbur stirs.

Wilbur sits up blearily from the couch, curls askew.  “Morning…” He rubs his eyes.

“How are you so tired?” Niki asks.  “You don’t have a job, what is it you stay up late to do?”

Wilbur smiles halfheartedly.  “Find trouble.”  He adds more insistently, “and play for your speakeasy sometimes.”

“Could you work on finding a job before you find trouble?” She teases.  “And play at my speakeasy.  I need you there to keep me company, but maybe a proper job too.”

Wilbur wakes up a bit more in his embarrassment, sheepish.  “Er, yeah.  Probably should do that.”

“Yeah,” Niki says pointedly.

Wilbur gets up, pulling on the same wrinkled white button up he wore yesterday over his undershirt.  “You… didn’t happen to make enough coffee I could have some, perchance?”

She rolls her eyes at him and nods to the pot.

“Ah, you’re a saint,” he mumbles.

There is a brief calm, Wilbur getting himself a cup, and Niki content to lean against the counter and drink hers, thinking.  Wilbur is freshly awake.  He is not a morning person.  Niki knows he is weak and however much he’ll loathe it, it’s the perfect time to push.

“So, we haven’t had much time to talk, Wil.  Feels like you’re always running around doing something, or I’m running around doing something.”

“Oh?” Wilbur says mildly.  “Yeah, yeah guess so,” he sips coffee.

“How’s home?”

Wilbur seems to almost choke, quickly lowering his mug.  “Home?”

“You know, where you came from?  Where you’ve been living?  For the past eight years?” Niki raises her eyebrows at him.

Wilbur almost winces.  “That, uh.  That didn’t really feel like home.”

Niki laughs.  “Okay, you’re very dramatic, do you know that?”  She’s unfazed, continuing on.  She knows some, she knows quite a bit, actually.  Niki can be quiet, but she listens.  There’s something wrong with Phil and Wilbur, and while that’s not new, maybe she’d imagined he’d have grown out of it when he grew up into a proper adult.  “How’s Phil?  How’s…”  She tries to remember other things she’s learned from their brief conversations over the last months and her even briefer amount of contact with Phil over the last eight years.  “How’s your… step-mom?  Do you get along okay?”

“Kristin?” Wilbur seems surprised, as if he hadn’t imagined she was an option for a subject of conversation.  “She’s great. Like, professionally she sort of scares me, but she’s really fun and she makes my dad happy, so.”  He shrugs.  “Can’t hold her choice in business against her, really.”

Niki notes he had skipped over her question about Phil.  “She’s great, but she sort of scares you?  Professionally?”

“She’s, you know,” Wilbur sets down his mug and waves his hands mysteriously, “the Lady Death of Salt Lake City.”

“Oh.”  Niki had not heard that name before, but then again, she already knows more than she wants to about the criminals that can touch her life, let alone keeping up with the ones that don’t.  “So. When you said Phil is more working in the background..?”

“Working for her,” Wilbur nods.  “He’s got a new––well, not really new now––reputation. Angel of Death,” Wilbur says mildly like his father has done something as simple as getting a promotion at the bank.

Niki nods, processing this.  That reputation truly isn’t new to her.  She can’t imagine Wilbur hadn’t heard it before, but Wilbur seems to be under the impression the title came from Kristin.  Phil had chosen the Crowfather as his title, but the City comes up with their own names for their Gods.  It was here that label started.  Phil was a complex man.  He could be, and often had been, ruthless.  He had rules, though.  If he kills someone who still has family to leave behind, he pays for the funeral.  The payments are anonymous, but connections were made regardless.  Phil would murder someone and then lay them to rest, sometimes to the horror of and other times to the relief of their families.  Phil was an Angel of Death long before he found a Death to follow.  Niki continues carefully, nudging the subject.  “Bit of a change from the Crowfather.”

“Not really,” Wilbur says gloomily, and Niki thinks perhaps he did know that title.  “Same business.”  That blasé addition makes her reconsider.  It seems Wilbur is just as unsettled by his father’s work as before.  Niki doesn’t blame him for it.  Of course, she has a bit of a soft spot for Phil.  He’d been good to her and Ranboo.  She’s not so picky as to scorn that even if he’s done things she cannot consider as anything but awful.

Niki continues quickly, before her own line of thinking strays any more grim.  “And is Techno still around?”

“Yeah, as long as Phil is.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” she smiles.  “How is he, then?  Well, how do you think he is?”

Wilbur shrugs.  “They’re the same, Niki.  Alright?  I don’t have anything to tell you, because they’re the same as they always were,” he says coldly.  “You don’t need to bother asking anymore.”

“Wil, I’m asking because I care about them.  You’re really going to be weird about it?” Niki says almost gently, because she knows that way will get Wilbur to actually care.

He wilts.  “Sorry, I’m sorry, Niki,” he presses against his forehead, eyes closed as if warding off a headache.  “You’re right, that was… that was a bit dick-ish of me.”

“Yep.  It was a bit dick-ish,” she laughs.  “I know I’ve said it before, but I’ve missed you, Wil.”

Wilbur, as always, looks surprised.  “Yeah?  What’d you do that for?” He teases.

That gets another laugh out of her and Wilbur looks so proud of himself.  Niki doesn’t know what help this will bring, but knowing a shred more about what’s going on with Wilbur at least feels like progress of some sort.  It doesn’t touch the bigger issues haunting her life or her business, but she wants to know her best friend again, she wants him to be her best friend again.  One day.

“I do have a request for you today, Wilbur.”

Wilbur shifts, sitting up straighter.  “Oh?”

“When you’re out… finding trouble, could you also find a few job applications?  For me?”

Wilbur nods, slouching in his shame.  “I will.  I can for sure do that, Niki.”

“Okay.  I’m going to hold you to that, Wil,” she says warningly, because she knows him, and even with the best of intentions, she knows he’s just as likely to turn up with zero job applications and some grand story about what happened that day instead.

“It was… it was good talking, Niki.  Really,” Wilbur is eager to get out of this conversation.  “Um, I’m gonna… I’m gonna get a start on my day, yeah?”  He smiles awkwardly and side steps past her out of the kitchen.

She smiles.  It’s a little fun to make Wilbur nervous, and quite warranted considering his slacking on his side of their friendship.  “Bye, Wil.”

“Bye!”  The front door shuts, and Niki is once more alone.  She’d let Ranboo sleep in.  She doesn’t have especially high hopes for Wilbur, but somehow he still seems like the problem she has the best understanding of and therefore the best chance of fixing.  Niki sighs, regretting her own line of thought.  She shouldn’t have to fix any of them.

~

Wilbur had told Niki while wandering today he’d grab a few job applications.  Thus far he had not done so.  Wilbur had never had an actual job in his fucking life, and he wasn’t enthused by the thought of starting now.  He hadn’t planned on sticking around long enough to have to pay rent, but here he’s remained.  Thus far he’s just wandered the streets as per usual.  He’d deny it if asked, but right now he’s waiting for Tommy to come barreling into him.  That kid always manages to find him in this city, it’s almost impressive, if not also a bit concerning.  Thus far, the kid hasn’t showed.  Wilbur doesn’t know why that makes him nervous.  Last he saw him, Tommy had complained about the new management at the hotel giving him grief, bad enough his hands were all bloody.  It doesn’t bode well.

Wilbur also wants to go back down into the subway tunnels.  It’s not a logical draw, more it feels like a morbid compulsion, l’appel du vide and all that.  He knows there’s nothing down there for him, except maybe rats and tetanus, but nonetheless.  He’s not scared, but also he sort of doesn’t want to go without Tommy, for no reason in particular.

It’s like Wilbur summons him into being.

“Hello, you stupid swiss cheese of a man!” Tommy appears beside him, making him jump.  “Thrown yourself at any more local mob patrols lately?”

Wilbur has one hand over his racing heart.  “No.  Haven’t found the time,” he says irritably.  “The fuck d’you mean swiss cheese?”

“Oh, ‘cause you were almost full of bullet holes.”  Tommy makes finger guns.

“Right, of course,” Wilbur scoffs. “Where did you even come from?”

“The shadows,” Tommy says with a dramatic whisper.  “Actually, if you don’t mind I’d like it if you joined me in the shadows,” he’s staring at something over Wilbur’s shoulder.

“What?  Why?”

“‘Cause that man––the one across the street obviously looking for me––I currently have his wallet,” Tommy nods at an irritable man wandering in a suit and ducks back into an alley, Wilbur finding himself quick to follow.

“So, still hard at work, I see?” Wilbur says dryly.

“More so than you, I see,” Tommy says mockingly.  “Not an especially productive day, though.  I’m… I’m not tired, but I’m a bit bored of the daily grind, so!” Tommy nods like that settles the matter, excusing some weariness that Wilbur hadn’t even noticed.  Wilbur had noticed that Tommy clearly has some hangups about being seen as weak, so he doesn’t question it.

“Yeah, yeah fair enough.  I told Niki I’d pick up some job applications,” Wilbur says gloomily.

“Ha!  Have fun with that!  Chaining yourself to the Machine, huh?”  Tommy tuts him.  “Poor thing.”

Wilbur glances at Tommy’s hands, which are currently perusing his stolen wallet.  He can see cloth stained a rusted red.  “How’re your… battle wounds, then?”  He nods to them.

Tommy snaps the wallet shut, burying his hands in his pockets.  “Fine, thank you very much.  I heal like, super fast.”

“Really?  Looks like you could use some actual bandages.”

“These are basically the same thing,” Tommy pouts.  “But…” he glances at his hands in his pockets.  “If you’re buying?”

Wilbur is not as broke as he was previously, as he’s gotten at least some tips playing at the Secret City.  He gives some of it to Niki, a feeble approximation of rent, but it’s still something.  It’s definitely not much.  Not enough he should be blowing it on getting some gauze and anti-infectant for some random kid.  Wilbur sighs.

“Come on.  There’s a drugstore around the corner.”

“I know there is.  This is my city.”

“It’s mine too!  I’ve lived here longer than you have.”

“Yeah, but it’s changed since you were here, old man,” Tommy nods wisely.  He stops outside the drugstore.  “I’ll wait here.  I’ve definitely nicked shit from here before and they won’t want to see me.”

“Haven’t you nicked shit from everywhere?”

“Yeah, but here I got caught.”

“Touché,” Wilbur smiles, amused before entering the shop.  He grabs gauze and neomycin before heading up to the counter.  “A pack of Marlboros too.”

The man behind the counter nods, grabbing a pack.  Wilbur glances at the register and what it rings up to.  He stares doubtfully at his own wallet, hesitating over his lineup.  He grabs the neomycin, intending on putting it back, but as he turns he sees movement out of the corner of his eye and glances over to see Tommy pressing against the glass and making faces at him.  Wilbur buries a laugh.

“Actually, scrap the Marlboros.  This is it for me,” he puts the antibiotic back on the counter, only processing his own choice after the fact.  It unsettles him. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Nonetheless, he returns to the street.  “Here,” he shoves the gauze and neosporin into his hands.

“Thanks, man!” Tommy sits down right there on the window ledge and begins peeling the scraps of sheets off his cut up hands.

“Wait, you’re not gonna wash them first?” Wilbur reaches out to stop him.

Tommy looks amused, glancing around the street.  “You see a bath anywhere?  Trust me, the river will do way more harm than good.”

“No, that’s not what I–” Wilbur sighs.  “Come on,” he nods toward the store.

Tommy shakes his head.  “No, it’s like I said, they won’t want me in there–”

“Who gives a shit?  I’ll go with you, we’ll go to the bathroom, and I’ll help you dress them,” Wilbur says more insistently.  He’s more surprised when Tommy doesn’t continue to protest, just stands to follow.  Tommy looks surprised as well.

Tommy very deliberately stays behind Wilbur, whistling and scanning the shelves in the most conspicuous way possible, until Wilbur drags him into a vaguely horrifying bathroom.

“Honestly, this feels worse than the street,” Tommy crinkles his nose.

Wilbur gives him a look.  “Wash your hands.”

Tommy rolls his eyes but obliges, wincing all the while.  Wilbur stares disapprovingly at the crusted blood and cracked scabbing of the cut across either hand.  Tommy’s hands are also filthy.  Wilbur is also trying to bottle every screaming warning about infection; he knows Tommy isn’t exactly in a place to take good care of himself.

“This fuckin’ sucks,” Tommy mutters.  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to pick pockets in these conditions?”

“It’s not like I did that, why’re you complaining to me?”

“Because you’re here.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes.  “Fine.”  He shoves a wad of paper towels at him.  “Dry them.”

“I know how to dress a wound, dickhead!  Just ‘cause I’m not rich enough to buy all this fancy shit doesn’t mean I don’t know how to dress a wound,” Tommy snaps.  “And I don’t need your help!” He says when Wilbur reaches toward him.

“Your hands are hurt!  You need hands to dress a wound!  Come on, man, stop being a little bitch and just let me,” Wilbur snaps back.

“Fine!  Fine, go for it!  If you want to play doctor, fine!” Tommy rolls his eyes, muttering, half under his breath, “call me a little bitch… from the king of little bitches…”

Wilbur ruefully does so, pasting antibiotic cream onto the cuts, Tommy flinching and pulling away as it burns.

“Ow!  Careful!” Tommy whines.

“It’s so it doesn’t get infected!” Wilbur snaps.

Tommy grumbles wordlessly before trailing off grumpily.

It’s quiet for a time, for once Tommy without anything snarky to say.  Wilbur gets nervous when the silence continues by the time he starts wrapping one hand in gauze.  He glances up, but Tommy is just watching him work with a solemn frown, wary and unsure, like he’s expecting Wilbur to do some harm.  Wilbur deigns not to think on that too hard, instead he refocuses, finishing wrapping Tommy’s other hand.

“Oooh, look at me, I’m Wilbur I can wrap cuts like an expert, I’m so smart,” Tommy says in a high voice, staring at his wrapped hands with clear satisfaction.

“Is that supposed to be a thank you?” Wilbur says dryly.  “Take this, okay?  Just… Don’t let your hands get so grubby,” Wilbur shoves the rest of the roll of gauze and antibiotics into his hands.

“Right, I got a choice in that, do I?” Tommy scoffs.

“Come on.  This place is fucking rank,” Wilbur heads back out the door.

“My hands still hurt.”

“Tough luck.”  They return outside, Wilbur rummaging in his pockets.  “Actually, I’ve got something else for you.  You still got that torch on you?”

“What?  Yeah, why?” Tommy asks suspiciously.

Wilbur offers Tommy two batteries.  He’d been holding onto them for a few days now, having scrounged them from Niki and Ranboo’s junk drawer.  “Fancy another trip into the tunnels?”

“Oh, I knew there was a catch!  What, you think ‘cause you buy a guy a bandage that he has to follow you around and obey your every whim?!” Tommy scowls, genuinely reproachful.

“What?  No!  No, that’s not why I got you a fucking bandage, are you joking?  If you don’t wanna go, I don’t care, I just thought…” Wilbur doesn’t know what he just thought.  “I dunno.  Might be another adventure.”

“I don’t need more adventure.  I’m fuckin’ made of adventure.  I’ve got oodles of adventure.”

“Okay, then don’t come,” Wilbur shrugs, still walking in the general direction of the maintenance entrance they had fled through before.

Tommy keeps pace.  “Wait, wait but that doesn’t mean I want you to go alone!  You’ll get eaten by rats, remember?”

Wilbur laughs.  “I knew you’d want to come.”

“You knew I’d what?  You knew I’d fucking want to what?”

“Shut up!” Wilbur cackles.  “You’re the most annoying fucking child!”

“And you want me to follow you into some fuckin’ dark-ass tunnels?  Hm?  You’re fucking bonkers.  I’m not about to get serialed by a man talking about come–”

“Get what?  Get cerealed?”

“Yeah!  Yeah, serialed!  As in serial fuckin’ murdered!” Tommy snaps.  He does stop in the alleyway, staring at the old maintenance door they had fled through last time.

“Wait, wait go back, you would get serial murdered?  Doesn’t that imply plural?  How the fuck would you get murdered multiple times?” Wilbur scoffs.

“You don’t know me.  You don’t know my murder history,” Tommy says aloofly.  Tommy puts the batteries in his torch, glancing up at the door on occasion like it might bite him.  “No, no but really, why the fuck do you want to go down there again?”

“Aren’t you curious?  That banging noise, look, it was probably just like… pipes settling or old machinery, but I bet we could… we could find other sneaky entrances over the city or something!” Wilbur says.

Tommy looks unenthused, but nonetheless, he’s put batteries in his torch and looks grimly prepared.  “Fine, fine I will go with you, but after this you’re buying me food, got it?”

“That… that sounds like worse bribery than me just getting you some gauze, what the fuck?” Wilbur gives him look.  “What, am I like, dangling cheese on a string down there for you?”

“Now you’ve just made it weird,” Tommy glowers at him before opening the door.  “Surprised no one else has gone down here if it’s that easy.”

“Um, that lock looks like it’s not busted and normal people obey big danger signs,” Wilbur points out as he enters the stairwell.

“Ah, psh.  Cowards!” Tommy scoffs, striding into the dark behind him before flicking on his torch.  “Oh, this is loads better!  I can actually see shit.”

“Don’t shine it in my eyes!” Wilbur hisses, batting his torch away.

“Don’t put your eyes by my torch!”

Wilbur gives him a look.

“Fine, fine, sorry,” Tommy says reluctantly.  “So, mole-man, what are we doing in the tunnels today?”

“I am…” Wilbur hesitates.  “I’m looking for this one platform.  It’s… for nostalgia reasons.”

“You’re nostalgic for a grubby ass train platform?” Tommy raises an eyebrow, striding ahead along the tracks.  They’ve been out of operation for years, but both of them keep off the actual rails.

“Yeah,” Wilbur tries to think of a reason he can give.  “Just…”

He’s saved from replying by Tommy shouting into the dark.  “HELLO?!”

Echoing back, “HELLO?!”

“HI, TOMMY!” Tommy shouts.

“HI, TOMMY!”

Tommy looks over at Wilbur, grinning.  “This tunnel is very polite.”

“Is it?  Are you and the tunnel making friends?” Wilbur says sarcastically, but he can’t resist a smile.

“SHUT UP, WILBUR!” Tommy shouts.

“SHUT UP, WILBUR!”

“See, we’re in agreement.”

“I’m not the one shouting, why do I need to shut up?”

“You were giving me sass, mister.  Tunnel and I don’t like that disrespect,” Tommy tuts him haughtily.

“And stop going ahead!  You don’t know where we’re going,” Wilbur quickens his pace to catch up.

“Oh, like you do?  Last I checked, you didn’t wander from platform to platform this way back in the olden days,” Tommy points out.

“Yeah, but I still know the direction–” Wilbur goes quiet.  There’s another noise, and it is not an echo.  It’s that same sound of metal banging together they had heard the last time.  It sounds about as close as it had the last time, that is, concerningly close.  Wilbur looks over at Tommy, to find him already staring back with wide, nervous eyes.  They listen.  There is silence for a time, the echo of the banging noise fading off, but then it resumes rapidly, three sharp bangs that echo off.  It stops for a moment, then three more, slow, measured.  Wilbur is quickly starting to doubt is “old machinery” theory from last time.

“It’s down that way, right?” Tommy whispers in the next pause, pointing down the tunnel.  He jumps when there are once more three sharp bangs.

“M-Maybe?” Wilbur says.  “The echo– I’m not sure which way.”

“I think it’s that one,” Tommy nods ahead.

Neither of them move.  The banging has yet to resume.  Knowing the direction doesn’t dictate what they do now.  Neither of them really want to see what it is, or more probable, who it is.  Tommy looks forward, shining his torch straight ahead.  The tunnel goes straight longer than the light reaches, so it shows only more blackness.

“What kind of nutcase goes banging around tunnels?” Tommy mutters.

“I mean, us kinds of nutcases,” Wilbur points out, but still he doesn’t move down the tunnel.  It’s Wilbur’s turn to jump when the banging returns without warning, three sharp clangs of metal, and a pause.

“I wanna check it out,” Tommy says, but he already looks like he regret the thought.

Wilbur waits for the next three slow bangs to fade out to reply.  “Okay.  Okay, fine, but the moment we see anything weird, we bail, alright?”

Three sharp bangs.

“Yeah, alright,” Tommy nods and seems to muster some bravery.  He starts off down the tunnel first, stopping often to look back and make sure Wilbur is close behind him, even as he can see Wilbur’s torch shining ahead alongside his.

The banging continues on like clockwork.  Three sharp knocks, whoever is responsible seems to take a break, and then continues slowly, before trying rapid knocks again.  Always in sets of three.  Wilbur feels like he’s missing something; he’s already deeply uneasy, and then his torch glances off of a shape splayed out across the tracks.  Wilbur fumbles forward, reaching out to stop Tommy, his torch refocusing on it.  It’s definitely a body.  He has a feeling they’re not merely unconscious.  Wilbur can’t see their face, they’re laid out on their stomach, head turned the other way, so all he can see is what looks like a red cloth tied around a head of short, dark hair.  There’s definitely blood, covering the arm visible to them.

Tommy spots what his torch is shining on, and to Wilbur’s shock, starts running forward.

“Oh fuck, no, nononononono, hold on a fucking second, it can’t– no, oh my fucking god, no fucking way, it can’t be, it can’t be– f-fuck–” Tommy babbles frantically, voice high and hoarse, words almost overlapping.  Wilbur lunges forward to stop him when he runs toward the strange corpse in the dark, but Tommy is too quick.  Tommy falls to his knees by the body, and before Wilbur can warn him of the hundred reasons why it’s a bad idea, Tommy touches it, rolling it over onto its side.  Tommy falls back, face buried in his hands, and it takes a moment for Wilbur to process that he’s relieved.

“Fuck… fuck, it’s not him… it’s not him…” Tommy’s knees are tucked up into his chest, rocking slightly, sounding breathless.

“Tommy?” Wilbur says cautiously.  “Are you… are you okay?”  He asks a rather stupid question, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

Tommy sniffs loudly, wiping his nose on his sleeve, and Wilbur pretends he can’t see Tommy’s cheeks are shiny and damp in the torchlight.  Tommy stares at the corpse again, without any apparent squeamishness at the sight, he still pores over it, like he’s trying to make sure.  “It’s not him,” Tommy croaks, reassuring himself more than informing Wilbur of anything.  Wilbur dares to stare at the body’s face.  The corpse it seems had been blindfolded by a strip of red cloth, but Wilbur can still see the lower half of his face, it’s a man with a patchy beard, a narrow, crooked nose, he seems to be just a few years older than Wilbur.

“Not who?” Wilbur asks gently.

Tommy blinks, and seems to come back to himself in some way, clambering to his feet.  “Nothing,” he’s still staring at the corpse.  “Thought it was… no one.  Just, one of my mates.  An old friend.  I don’t… I don’t see him as much anymore, and he’s… he gets dragged into some shit.  Doesn’t stay out of it like I do, and I always warned him, I always told him…” Tommy trails off, moving on.  “And wears a fuckin’ red headband, and from behind, it…” Tommy nods to the blindfold, trailing off again, his thoughts disconnected.  “A-And the blood on his arm, thought maybe it was… Just from behind and a ways back, not… not the face at all, just…” Tommy shakes his head.  “It’s… it’s not him,” he repeats.

Wilbur still feels almost sick with nerves.  This exchange had happened over the course of a lull in the banging, Wilbur isn’t sure if this pause has lasted longer than the last, but he’s not sure he wants to wait around for it to continue.  “We should go, Tommy.”

“What-?” Tommy glances up at him.  “Yeah,” Tommy takes one step back the direction they had come before pausing.  “What about the… the noise?” Tommy looks both ways, as if inviting it to continue.

“Tommy, that man, he didn’t die from natural causes,” Wilbur says softly.  “And if whoever did that to him is prowling around down here…” Wilbur hesitates.  He doesn’t want to scare the kid.  “I mean, the noise hasn’t gotten any closer.  We’ve gotten closer to it.  Like…” Wilbur looks back toward the stairwell he knows is somewhere in the dark behind them.  “Like they’re trying to draw us deeper in.”  Wilbur looks back at Tommy and sees he’s certainly failed to not scare the kid.

“We… we can’t tell anyone.  We can’t tell anyone about this, about the…” Tommy doesn’t even look at the corpse now, but Wilbur understands.  “Can’t go to the cops, least I can’t.  We… we can’t explain how we were down here a-and–”

“I know, Tommy.  We should go.”  Wilbur doesn’t know why he does it, he doesn’t think, he just does, but he offers Tommy his hand.  Wilbur almost doesn’t realize he’s done it until Tommy accepts.

Tommy’s expression doesn’t indicate confusion on his side of things, but he still seems sort of hazy, so Wilbur just starts walking, guiding them back to the street.  They emerge just as the surviving streetlights kick on, but it’s still far preferable to the dark underground.

“Right, I think… I think we should get out of here,” Wilbur starts walking.  “Don’t… don’t get all defensive if I offer, but d’you want me to walk you back to the hotel?”

“Nah, I’m… I’m good,” Tommy shrugs.

“Don’t do that, man, just… let me do it, alright?  It’ll make me feel better–”

“Not everything is about you, ay?” Tommy scoffs.  “I’m not going to the hotel no more.”

“Are you still having a hard time getting inside?  I thought you figured out a way around the… the stuff,” Wilbur stops when he realizes Tommy isn’t following, instead scuffing his feet and leaning against the wall of the alley.

“No, not just that…” Tommy trails off gloomily.  “The nutter that replaced Jack, y’know the one that put razors on the windows?  Now he’s checking the empty rooms with a fucking golf club.  Thought he was gonna crack my fuckin’ ‘ead open…”

Wilbur steps closer to Tommy, immediately finding himself bottling rage and horror in equal measure.  “He came at you with a golf club?!”

Tommy steps back on impulse, scowling.  “No, he asked if I wanted to go a round and I told him I only did crazy golf- yes he swung at me, dumbass…”

“Holy shit, Tommy, you– Don’t tell me you’re going back there!  I mean, where are you gonna go?”  Wilbur doesn’t know why he feels panicked.

“Obviously not!  That’s what I just said.   I’ll…” Tommy’s feeble excuse of saying he’ll find somewhere else to crash dies with a shiver.  After the night they’ve had, he’s a little more vulnerable.  “Can I… Can I walk to Niki’s with you?  And… And I’ll figure something out on the way there.”

“Yeah, something like sleeping there.”

Tommy frowns, but he doesn’t say no this time.

~

Niki wants to talk to Ranboo.  She doesn’t know what to do with herself on her days off anymore.  Puffy doesn’t have time to go boxing with her anymore, and Eret is busy with the museum and some fancy new investments she’s made so she rarely has time to come over for their usual chats, and if Eret is busy HBomb is busy too, Karl even seems to be busy nowadays.  Ranboo is in the same boat, not that Niki really understands why.  Even if Tubbo has something going on, Tommy is always available.  Niki also has a feeling that Ranboo knows she wants to talk to him, because he’s been finding excuses to go back to his room, before realizing there’s nothing to do in there, coming back out, realizing his sister clearly having some sort of emotion towards him, and finds an excuse again.

“Aren’t you going to help me with dinner?” Niki asks as Ranboo is halfway down the hall back to his room.  He turns on his heels, looking a shred less anxious than someone walking to the gallows and nods.

“Yep!”

“Okay,” Niki can’t help but be amused.  Even if she were actually mad at Ranboo, which isn’t the word she would use for whatever she’s feeling at present, Ranboo is well past the age where she could attempt to ground him, at this point what he’s dreading is her saying she’s disappointed in him.  Which, to be fair, tends to be viewed as a death sentence by all three of them, Ranboo and Tommy and Tubbo.

Ranboo hums to fill the quiet, glancing at her often, and to her surprise, he speaks up first, methodically chopping vegetables so he doesn’t have to look over at her.  “You doin’ okay?”

“What?” She looks over at him, thrown off.  “Yeah.  I think so.  Are you?”

Ranboo doesn’t seem to believe her.  “Yeah!”

Niki doesn’t really believe him either.  Quiet for a bit, neither quite sure of how to proceed.

“How’s Tubbo?  And Tommy?”

“Huh?  Oh, I think…” He falters, "I think okay.”

“Have you not seen them much?”  She already knows the answer.  She asks anyway.

“No,” he sounds amused.  “I mean, I’ve been with you.  When would I have seen them?  I mean, you haven’t seen your friends much.”

“Well, they’re busy with criminal things,” Niki says teasingly.

“Yeah, well, mine too.” Ranboo says, his humor sharper, bitter.

“But even before, you all made time for each other, didn’t you?  Do you know why Tubbo hasn’t come to the Secret City with Tommy at all?  It doesn’t seem like them.”

“I don’t know everything they do, Niki,” Ranboo snaps.

“Ranboo,” Niki can’t help the hint of hurt in her voice.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“It’s… it’s fine,” she sighs.  “You don’t talk to me anymore, Ranboo.  I just… I just want to know what’s happening.”

“Maybe I just don’t have much to say,” Ranboo shrugs.

“Are you… are you guys not friends anymore?”

“No,” Ranboo says quickly.  His face scrunches up, and he doesn’t even look upset really, more so worried.  “Do we have to talk about this right now?”

“When else are we going to?!” Niki snaps.  “Sorry.  I’m sorry, Ranboo, I’m just… I don’t want you to lose them.”

“You say that like I have a choice.”

“You always have a choice!” Niki grows emphatic.

“Really?” Ranboo is defensive.  “Did you have a choice when you lost Wilbur?”

Icy silence.  Niki is taken aback, a lump in her throat, because it wasn’t just harsh or startling, coming from Ranboo, saying that to her, it’s almost cruel.  Worse when he continues.

“He left you, Niki, and now you’re… you’re letting him live here…”

“You agreed!”

“I thought it was gonna be for a couple days!  Not a couple months!”

“He left everyone, Ranboo. He didn’t just leave me.”

“I don’t care about everyone!  I care about you.  And he hurt you!  And– And it’s like you’re not even mad at him!” Ranboo’s voice breaks slightly, choked up rage that isn’t just meant for Wilbur.

“It sounds like you are.”

“Because you should be,” he says accusingly.  “A-And it’s not fair that he stopped talking to you, he just… he just moved on.  He didn’t… he didn’t think about it.  Like he didn’t even care.”

“Ranboo…” Niki reaches out to him, he pulls away.  “You know it’s okay if you’re hurting right now, right?”

“This isn’t about me. Not right now, okay?  I know I– I know–” Ranboo cuts himself off, frustrated by his own emotions.  “Let’s– Let’s just pick one, and right now I… I wanna talk about Wilbur, and–”

The front door of their apartment opens.  Wilbur and Tommy enter, and immediately read the tension of whatever they have just interrupted.

“Uh.  Ayup?” Tommy gives the two of them a nod.  “Well, I’ve got you home safe, Wilbur, I ought to be going–” he turns back to the door and Wilbur grabs his sleeve.

“Tommy needs somewhere to stay.”

“Do not–”

“The new hotel manager came at him with a golf club.”

“He what?!” Ranboo is snapped out of his own brooding.

“And I kicked his ass and left!  It’s not a problem,” Tommy whines.

“Yeah, but you can’t go back, and you shouldn’t be just sleeping outside, Tommy,” Wilbur says pointedly.

“I’ve done it before!”

“No,” Niki says sharply.  Tommy stares at her, startled.  “Tommy that is in no way safe.  Not right now, okay?  You’re staying here.”

Tommy quickly realizes he no longer has a choice.  “Right… fine, but just for tonight, alright?”

Niki turns to Wilbur, just as piercing.  “Did you get any job applications?”

If Wilbur could sink into the floor, he would.  “W-Well, I… I meant to, it’s just… some things came up…”

“What?  What things?”

“Sorry, sorry, nothing, it was… it was stupid of me.  Never mind,” Wilbur winces, knowing how useless his excuses are.

Ranboo gives Niki a weighted glance that Wilbur is at a loss to understand, and Niki is resolutely ignoring it.

“Tommy, I’m sorry, but if you’re staying here, you’ve got to take a shower,” Niki nods Tommy down the hall.

“Okay, rude, not my fault that I haven’t been able to use the hotel showers in a… in a little while…” he grumbles, following her.

For a dangerous, brief amount of time, Wilbur and Ranboo are alone.

“What came up?” Ranboo asks.

Wilbur notes the hint of ice in his tone and hesitates.  “It was… it was a cheap excuse, I… I got distracted with Tommy.  That’s all.  No good reason.”

“So… so why’d you say you did?” Ranboo says quietly.

“I don’t… I don’t know.  Felt bad about it, really,” Wilbur shrugs.

“Right,” Ranboo is cool and unfeeling.  “Niki and I were making dinner.  Do you think you could help?”

Wilbur knows it’s not a request.

“Right, right, let me… let me wash my hands,” Wilbur nods, going to the sink.  “What’re you making?”

“Um, baked rutabaga and parmesan chicken?”

“Rutabaga…” Wilbur laughs fondly.  “Right.”

Silence until Niki returns.

“Thanks, Wil,” Niki says, reentering the kitchen.

“Sure!  Sure, it’s the… it’s the least I can do.”

“Yep,” Ranboo agrees quietly.

Niki gives him a warning look, before proceeding as if she hadn’t heard him.  “Ranboo, Tommy is going to borrow some of your clothes.”

“Fine with me,” Ranboo says.

Wilbur looks between the two of them, eyes wide.  He focuses on his assigned task.  A terse half hour passes before Tommy returns, hair still dripping wet, dampening the collar of one of Ranboo’s shirts.  Tommy’s had to roll up the pant legs of his jeans substantially.

Wilbur laughs.  “You look like a wet dog.”

“Do I?” Tommy strides over to him and shakes his head so water flies everywhere, largely into Wilbur’s face.

“Tommy!  Come on, man, not… not in the kitchen,” Ranboo says helplessly.

“Sorry,” Tommy rolls his eyes, before catching sight of Niki and offering with more sincerity, “sorry!”

“Ranboo, can you get your desk chair?  We need one more.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Their tiny dining table is typically only used for two, a third chair is there for a guest, but it’s rare for them to have more than that company in the apartment.  It’s far easier to host in the speakeasy.  Niki has dragged the table out from the wall so a chair can be put on the fourth side.  Wilbur helps set the table and Tommy gathers drinks and despite the lingering tension, it feels almost cozy.  The four of them have settled in, Tommy eating with a disconcerting amount of enthusiasm, but no one at the table has the heart to scold him for it.  Once Tommy has cleared a plate and gone back for seconds, he begins to peer around the table.

“Brrr. Bit chilly in here, eh?  What’s got you all up in a huff?”  Tommy is quite good and prodding the one issue everyone else is still avoiding.

Wilbur doesn’t feel like he knows what’s going on, so he doesn’t speak, Ranboo loathes the thought of being the one to speak up first, especially about confrontation, and Niki neither wants to lie to Tommy nor get into things.  Tommy waits.

“Well I think whatever has gotten you lot in a mood, you should do some soul searching, reevaluate your pri-or-i-tees,” he enunciates every syllable around a mouthful of rutabaga.  “Like, Ranboo, handsome lad like you, what on earth could be troubling that brain of yours?  You’re a baker, you’re a looker, you’re all… like, sensitive and shit, you’re a catch!  Niki, if you’ve got problems, you should just… y’know, kick their asses like you always do.  In what fuckin’ world does Niki Nihachu feel troubled by something she can’t wreck shop over?  You’ve got a badass speakeasy and everything!  You don’t fear no pigs, the state should fear you!”  Tommy nods once like that settles the matter, before refocusing on his plate.  The tension doesn’t break, but it does crack a little.

“No grand input for me?” Wilbur says dryly.

“Nah, I know why you’ve got troubles, and it’s your own fault,” Tommy shrugs.

Ranboo laughs.

“Hey!” Wilbur says, indignant.

“You gonna tell me I’m wrong?  Hm?” Tommy gives him a look.

“Yeah, are you, Wil?” Niki smiles.  “I mean, you couldn’t pick up one job application?”

Wilbur is flushing red.  “Look, maybe I… I’m not thrilled at the thought of scrounging together some shitty nine-to-five with a dickhead boss…”

“How do you know what job shit is like?  You’ve never worked a day in your fuckin’ life,” Tommy jeers.

“Have you had a job before, Tommy?” Wilbur says pointedly.

“More than you.”

“I’d say both of you don’t know anything about having a real job,” Ranboo points out.

“And I’d say you don’t know much about having shitty nine-to-five and a dickhead boss,” Niki adds.  “You got lucky too, Ranboo.”

“I mean, maybe I do–”

Niki gasps, dramatically acting offended, throwing her napkin at him.

“Hey!  Hey, I’m kidding,” Ranboo hunches down which does very little to make himself a smaller target.

“I dunno, Ranbus, she’s a tough egg to crack, y’know?  She runs a tight ship.  She hasn’t put up with any nonsense as long as I’ve known her.  She’s been immovable since she was twelve, probably longer,” Wilbur teases.  Niki rolls her eyes at him, poorly masking a laugh.  Wilbur glances back over at Ranboo, startled to find Ranboo staring at him, eyebrows slightly raised, mouth open slightly like he’s unsure of how to say something, to describe whatever unreadable expression he’s currently stabbing into Wilbur’s chest.  “What?” Wilbur shifts uncomfortably.

“You haven’t called me that since I was little.”

“Well, I– I haven’t been here a lot, have I?” Wilbur stammers.

“Yeah.  Guess not.”

Tommy snorts.  “Ranbus?  That’s fucking adorable, aw, little Ranbus!”

“No, nuh uh, you’re not starting with that,” Ranboo breaks his gaze, turning sharply to Tommy.  “Not allowed!  Not for you!”  He says it like he’s trying to get a dog to drop a sock.  “I’d prefer when you call me Ranboob to you calling me that.”

Tommy grins, “aw, good to hear it, Ranboob!  I shall only respect your proper title.”

Ranboo sighs head in his hands as realizes what he’s done.  “Oh no…”

Tommy continues his teasing, and Wilbur plays along, but he’s wrapped up in deeper thoughts right now, so many old aches and pains mingling with new ones, and he doesn’t know where to put it all down.

Dinner finishes in better spirits than it had started, Tommy offering to help clean up after with the same heroics of a soldier offering to dive on a grenade, but nonetheless, he does it.

“Right, then, good night, lads– and Niki,” Tommy settles in on the floor with ease, stealing a pillow from the couch.

“Tommy, you take the couch, man. I’ve had it for ages, I should shake things up and sleep on the floor for a change,” Wilbur offers.

“What’ve you got against floors?  I got nothin’ against ‘em!  Me and floors are old friends!” Is Tommy’s attempt at a defense.

“Mhm, Tommy, where did you sleep last night?” Niki asks pointedly before she goes to her own room.

“On a bench over on 30th until one of the pigs woke me up, why?”

Niki and Wilbur exchange a look.  “Take the couch, Tommy.”

“Tommy can stay with me in my room for the night!” Ranboo says perhaps too excitedly.

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him.  “Look, Ranboob, I did admit, you’re a handsome lad, but me?  I’m shy, I’m not ready for this step in our relationship–”

“Tommy,” Ranboo cuts him off exasperatedly.  “Come on, it’ll be like when we’d have sleepovers and stuff!  It’ll be fun,” Ranboo claps and points to his bedroom door.  “Come on!�� Let’s go!”

“What, are we gonna braid each other’s hair and talk about girls?” Tommy rolls his eyes but clambers off the ground to follow.

“I mean, you can talk about girls.  I don’t think I will.”

Niki smiles, fond and relieved.  Ranboo had missed having company.  None of them are acknowledging the hole, the absence once occupied for so many years by Tubbo.  He should be here.  

Even as Tommy is grateful to have a bed, as he’s missed Ranboo’s company just as Ranboo had missed his, he’s trying really hard not to get weak right now.  He refuses to cry over something as ridiculous as the idea of his best friend––his former best friend?––not being in the place he is meant to.  Tubbo has changed.  Tommy knows this, Tommy knows he should be able to let go, because that’s not his best friend anymore, in more ways than one.  At the same time, Tommy knows if Tubbo showed up right now, no matter the state, no matter the blood on his hands, Tommy would only be able to hug him, to bring him back into the fold and say “Where have you been, Bee Boy?  You’re late.  And you missed dinner.”

Instead, he just follows Ranboo, and even as neither of them say it, he can read Ranboo’s silence for the same thought.  They miss him.

~

Wilbur has a difficult time falling asleep.  He’s perturbed by troubling thoughts, thoughts he hadn’t been prepared for.  It’s a peculiar list that’s been growing.  Only looking at today, not even the past months, and it’s enough to make his head spin.  He’d forgone cigarettes to get that scrappy kid some medicine he probably won’t even use.  And when Tommy had run to the body, he hadn’t felt scared like that in a long time.  Probably in as long a time since he called Ranboo Ranbus.

“Fuck…” Wilbur mutters into the dark.  He rolls over and almost screams.  Niki is currently making her way silently across the living room, he sits up sharply.  “Niki?”

“Sh!” She presses a finger to his lips.  She motions for him to follow.  “Come on the roof with me,” she whispers.  In her other hand, she has a bottle.

“The roof-? Right, fine,” Wilbur clambers to his feet.

“Take that blanket too.”

He does so, following her to door in the back of the kitchen, within it is a pantry, and on the opposite wall, a ladder.  He does not ask questions.

Niki unlocks a trapdoor, wincing when it creaks loudly, but as far as they can tell the boys haven’t been woken.

The roof isn’t quiet.  It’s well past midnight, but there’s the wind through the buildings and cars still making their way across the city.  Niki shuts the hatch behind him, gesturing to the roof.

“Put the blanket down.  Over here so we can look out,” she nods to the front of the building.  At this angle to the street, Wilbur can see all the way to the river, to the distant lights of the bridge.  They can’t see a single star in the sky here, but there’s something beautiful about it anyway.

Niki sits on the blanket, patting the spot beside her.  She rips the cork out of the bottle with her teeth, spitting it over the edge of the roof.  She spots Wilbur’s expression out of the corner of her eye and giggles.

“I run a speakeasy, Wilbur,” she says by way of explanation.

“I don’t think most bartenders are comfortable ripping a cork out with their teeth.”

Niki shrugs.  “How would I know?  I can’t exactly meet up with other bartenders in a prohibition state.”  She takes a swig, wincing.

“Touché,” Wilbur sits beside her.  “What’re we drinking tonight?”

“Um,” she takes another swig.  “Gin.”

“Gin?”

She nods.  “It’s popular.  I thought we might as well,” she offers him the bottle.

“Might as well…” Wilbur mutters.  He takes a drink, shuddering.  “That’s… that’s some strong gin, shit.”

“Feels…” Niki mulls it over, “appropriate?”

“What’s the occasion?” Wilbur smiles, still puzzled, but also oddly delighted.  He’s missed this.

“Um, not really an occasion, more like… a goal,” she takes back the bottle, takes a swig, and passes it back, nodding at him.  He obliges and takes another drink.

“Goal?”

“To get you, Wilbur Soot, drunk enough to… to spill your guts to me.”

Wilbur had been halfway through another swig when he chokes.  “Pardon?”

Niki smiles, all mischief.  “To be fair, I am drinking too.”

“Feels like I’ve been brought here under false pretenses.”

“What pretenses?” She laughs.

“Fine.  I dunno,” Wilbur smiles, offering her the bottle.  “Okay, if we’re… if we’re spilling guts, lets do it tit-for-tat, quid pro quo.”

She nods, “wie du mir, so ich dir.”

“Wie du mir, so ich dir,” Wilbur attempts to copy her pronunciation and he can’t tell from her smile if he succeeded or failed.  “So,” Wilbur asks the first thing that comes into his head.  “Is Ranboo… is he mad at me?  He seems… well, about as pissed off as Ranboo can be, if I’m honest.”

Niki nods, like it’s an easy truth.

“He is?”

“Yeah, it’s ‘cause he knows you leaving hurt me.”

“Oh,” Wilbur feels like a weight has just pressed down harder on his shoulders.

Niki nods amicably.  “And now you’re back.  And he thinks you have a lot to prove.”

“Yeah.  I… I think I do,” Wilbur takes another swig.

“Do you have anything to do with the…” Niki gestures vaguely to the streets below.

“The what?” He’s puzzled out of his melancholy.

“The changes.  A lot of little things.  I don’t know,” she shrugs.  “It all sort of started when you turned up, and, sorry, Wil, you…” she almost looks pitying.  “You break things.  Sometimes.”

Wilbur nods, staring out at the patchy trail of streetlights, some lit, some not.  “I break things,” he agrees softly.

“Sometimes,” Niki reminds him pointedly.

He laughs, half under his breath, “sometimes.”

“There’s something wrong, Wil.  Schlatt is dead, and I thought…” Niki frowns.  “I don’t know what I thought.  When I first found out, I was mostly worried about Tubbo, but then I… I thought it was gonna fix things.”

Wilbur once more thinks of his father, and it’s hard to resist the bitterness curdling in his stomach.  “It was bad, then?”  Quiet.  He glances over at Niki, who is looking with the same thoughtfulness out at the city.  Wilbur continues, “Schlatt, I mean.”

She glances at him, clearly measuring up how little he knows.  “It’s like I said, Wil.  You’ve been gone a long time.”

“I have,” Wilbur says like it’s an apology.  It isn’t an apology.

“Drink more.  You’re bigger than me, you need to catch up,” she presses the bottle into his hands.  He obliges.

“I didn’t want to, you know.  To leave you, to leave the city,” Wilbur knows it’s a feeble defense, but it’s all he can think to say.

She still look like she knows something, something she isn’t saying, not directly at least.  “Didn’t you?”

“I…” Wilbur feels very vulnerable.  He can’t imagine Niki knowing, knowing the whole of it, but it’s clear she understands him in a lot of ways.  Which makes sense.  Niki had once been his best friend.  “I don’t know,” is what he settles on.  It’s a safe answer, maybe too safe.

Niki sighs, sitting up, legs folded beneath her.  Wilbur offers her the bottle once more and she pushes it back.  “You first, then me.”

He takes a drink.  She follows.

“You all left, you and Phil and Techno, and… and Phil leaving was hard.  He… he sent money until I asked him to stop.  He called until I… I got too busy to pick up,” she shrugs.  “I don’t know,” she echoes his sentiment, staring down at the roof.  “Techno said goodbye.  A… a pretty good goodbye, I think.  And I was… I was mostly okay for a while.  Schlatt… Schlatt didn’t get involved until I was eighteen.  That’s when I opened the Secret City, ‘cause before I was worried if I got caught while underage it would fall back on Eret’s family, so…”

Wilbur knows it’s far from important, but on impulse he asks her, almost defensive, like a childish teen rivalry has resurfaced.  “Eret?”

“Yeah.  Her family helped look after us.  You… you can’t own a business at sixteen, Wil,” Niki says wryly.  “I mean, we were on our own, really.  Me and Ranboo.  They didn’t really interfere, it just made sure no one was like, trying to take Ranboo away from me or anything like that.”

“Oh,” Wilbur feels almost embarrassed now.  “I… I understand.  Got it.”  He takes another drink.

“You said you were coming back, Wil,” Niki says softly.

“I meant to,” he says hoarsely.  He means it.

“Okay, but when you weren’t anymore, when you didn’t,” she looks over at him, eyes too shiny.  “Why didn’t you call?  Why didn’t you… why didn’t you write?  Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

Wilbur feels like that look in her eyes, grief and broken trust and wounds still unhealed, like it might burn him up from the inside.  He can’t bring himself to look away.

“I don’t have any good answers for you.”

“Give me a bad one, then.”

"Fuck, I'm just a mess," Wilbur wipes his eyes.

"Yeah, you are," she says teasingly.  "Give me an answer."

Wilbur swallows thickly, a lump forming in his throat, finally tearing his gaze from hers to stare at the way the bottle in his hand gleams in the streetlight.  “It was supposed to be a clean break.”  He gives the wrong excuse, but it’s the only one he has.

Niki feels an ache in her chest grow sharp.  She had expected a bad answer, but that one stings, especially when she knows what festers underneath.  “Clean…” she scoffs.  A pause, Wilbur with nothing to say in his own defense, and Niki thinking.  “I was... I was okay on my own.  Really.  Schlatt wasn't a problem until I opened the Secret City and... and when he first started showing up and taking money and... and then alcohol, I didn't... I didn't know what he was gonna do to us.  I'd never... Phil kept us away from that stuff, you know?  I... I made sure they didn't know about Ranboo," Niki nods once, as if reassuring herself, proud and certain she did right by him.  "They wouldn't fucking touch him, I made sure.  I couldn't stop them from knowing he worked there, but... they didn't know he was my family.  So, that was... a bit safer?  I think?  And... I hate this," she says vehemently.  "I hate that this is the truth, but when I stopped fighting, it got easier.  I gave them the money, my supplies, whatever they asked for.  I only fought back when... when I thought it would actually sink us, and before I got brave enough to do that I had to ask Eret for help sometimes and I hated doing that, because I knew I shouldn't have had to.  Once I gave up, his men stopped coming and threatening to break things, and instead it was just Tubbo.  It felt... it felt easier that way.  I gave up so much of what we earned, and that just became normal," she says that word like it's something vulgar.  "But I did it.  I did it.  I kept everyone safe, everyone.  I looked after them all.  Homeless kids, and Schlatt's kid, and Schlatt's boyfriend, and Schlatt's boyfriend's boyfriend, and Schlatt's doctor, and... and Badlanders and ex-Badlanders, and ex-Empire kids, because... because they were gone.  You were gone.  The Empire left us, and I wasn't gonna let that hurt us.  No way.  Maybe I didn't have Phil's authority or Techno's reputation or... or anything like that.  But I kept them all safe.  All of them," she looks at Wilbur, and he is almost in awe of the fire burning behind her eyes.  Wilbur feels so sure that if Niki wanted to burn this city down, she could and she'd probably have the right to.  The fire drains out of her, and once more she looks so tired.  "The earlier years were the hardest.  The ones where I missed you the most, Wil."  Niki takes a shaky breath.  She looks away.  "When I say Schlatt was bad, I don’t say it because I think you could’ve fixed things.  Maybe if Phil had stuck around, he could’ve made it better, but that’s different.  That’s not you.”  A pause.  Wilbur almost feels like he can’t breathe.  Niki continues, “even with the bad parts of it, really I just wanted you to be there, Wil.  You were– you were supposed to be there,” Niki says it with the certainty of a girl who had been eighteen, and alone, and scared, and trying to defend herself from threats so much bigger than her, and waiting for her brother to get taken away, and all the while wishing she could cry on her best friend’s shoulder.

“I am… I am so sorry, Niki.  I don’t expect forgiveness, I don’t, I just need you to know how sorry I am.”  A strange apology for someone utterly certain his father had dragged him out of this city kicking and screaming, but maybe he’s not talking about that kind of leaving.  Maybe Niki knows that.

Niki does not forgive him.  “I believe you, Wil.”  That counts for something too.

Wilbur has felt something building in his chest for weeks, discontent forever rising as his plans never turn out quite right and he has been unable to do the one thing he came to this city for.  A lot has changed in the past months.  His discontent finally spills over.

“I came here, I came back to the city two months ago,” Wilbur stops, taking a deep breath to stop his lip from trembling.  He quickly wipes his cheek.  He doesn’t look at her.  “I came back here to kill myself.”

Niki doesn’t say a word.  She doesn’t know what she could say, but she isn't really surprised.  She takes his hand.

“N-Not here, here.  I wasn’t… I wasn’t gonna do it in your house,” Wilbur continues to spill over, a rambling defense for something he knows cannot be defended.  “I was… I had a plan, it was… it wasn’t supposed to take this long, but I had to– It had to be– Someone else has to do it,” he says forcefully.  “I wanted it to be Schlatt.  Or Schlatt’s dogs, whatever.  If not him, any gunfire would do.  I tried prodding the Badlands, I tried going down the wrong streets and… and spraying stupid graffiti on claimed territory, and none of it worked.  Closest I got was that stupid fucking car bomb, and all it did was almost kill Tommy…”

Now Niki can think of a reply, not to the matter on the whole, but to this piece of it.  “Why?”  Wilbur glances at her, burden evident at the thought of answering that sort of question, Niki corrects.  “Why… why did it have to be someone else, I mean.”

Wilbur laughs bitterly.  “It was supposed to be for Phil?  I thought… I thought it might be nice for it to mean something, so, I thought if I got myself killed in the crossfire of some petty street violence, maybe…” Wilbur trails off, as if by voicing it aloud he’d realized the childishness of his plots.  “Maybe it would make him want to change.  To do better.  Something like that,” he sighs.

“For Phil,” Niki repeats, processing.

“Yeah,” Wilbur says wearily.

“Don’t… don’t take this the wrong way, Wilbur, but… but once all that didn’t work, why didn’t you… you know, try something else?” Niki asks carefully.

Wilbur had forgotten how direct Niki could be.  “Um, well, lots of… of little reasons, I guess.”

“Little reasons?”

Wilbur huffs, almost annoyed with the idea.  “It was… it was that stupid fucking kid, alright?  It was Tommy.”

Niki smiles, almost amused.  “Tommy?”

“Not… not for lovely sentimental reasons, not at first at least, but he just… he kept showing up.  Every day, I’d be wandering around, debating between the river and a highrise, and there he’d fucking be!  Calling me a layabout and following me and hounding me until I’d decide it was worth trying a few more schemes to see if I could get myself killed that way, and even then!  Even then, he’d find a way to get in the way.  Like, I tried to get out in front of a Badlands patrol, when they were first starting to get all nervous, and this kid latches onto me like a furious fucking koala, and he won’t let me out of the alleyway without him, so I gave up that time.  And shit like that just kept happening,” Wilbur sighs, shaking his head, almost amazed.  “He just… by accident, he just kept me out of it.”

“That sounds like Tommy.”

Wilbur laughs dryly.  “Does it?”  Wilbur broods, once more returning to the thoughts that had been circling his sleepless brain earlier.  “And he’s… he needs help, right?  He obviously needs help, and needs it worse than any of us first thought, apparently, and I…” Wilbur sighs.  “And I can’t.  Okay?”

“You… you don’t think you can help him?  Wil, no one would expect that of you.”

“No, not that, and it’s not a matter of expectation, it’s–” Wilbur runs a hand through his hair, tugging at his curls as he feels like Niki and all her love for him is digging a confession out of his chest, but he wants this, he wants to tell her, because he loves her too.  “I can’t kill myself.  Not until… not until he’s better.  ‘Cause I… I almost forgot about Ranbus.”

“You… what do you mean you almost forgot Ranboo?” Now Niki is properly confused.

“Not Ranboo– Ranbus.  I… I said it so effortlessly, I didn’t even think about it, but before tonight, I almost forgot what I called that kid, that I… I was something to him,” Wilbur sighs.

“You still are something to him.”

Wilbur smiles weakly, grateful for her kindness even if he doesn’t think he deserves it.  “Maybe.  I… you’re good to him, Niki.  You were still a kid yourself, and you took care of him.  He’s lucky, and I think he knows how lucky he is, to have you for a big sister, and…” Wilbur trails off, words coming together slowly.  “And Tommy’s not lucky.  In more than one way, because he had no one, and instead of someone like you, Niki, he gets stuck with me instead,” Wilbur laughs.  “So, I can’t kill myself.  Because he needs… he needs someone.  That’s all.”

Niki scoots closer, resting her head on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Wilbur.  For… for a lot of things you’ve had to go through, but I’m really glad you’re here now.  And I’m really glad you’re not going anywhere.”

Wilbur takes a shaky breath, no longer trying to ward off tears or the tremor in his voice.  “Thanks, Niki.”

“Maybe Tommy isn’t as lucky as Ranboo, but he’s still lucky to have you.”

Wilbur nods.  “Thank you.  For a lot of things, but Niki,” Wilbur looks over at her, looking her in the eye for once without fear or guilt or shame.  “Thank you for being my best friend.”

Niki smiles, reaching out to mess up his hair.  “You’re welcome.  Thank you for… for trying to bring my best friend back.”

Wilbur understands.  “I’ll be him again.  I promise.”

Niki gets to her feet, unsteady and offering him a hand off the ground.  “I’ll hold you to that, Wilbur Soot.  Don’t think I won’t.”

Niki doesn’t like the way things are heading.  She would have thought after Schlatt’s death there would be some peace, instead, she has new reasons to worry.  It’s like she can measure the health of the city by the attendance at the Secret City. She rarely sees any of the Badlanders, Puffy only on rare occasion, and always busy and absentminded.  Even more worrying to her, Tommy and Tubbo don’t come to the Secret City very much anymore, and never together.  Ranboo, already quiet, has gotten quieter.

Niki’s business worries have at least declined.  In Schlatt’s absence, her profits have nearly doubled, or rather, she’s kept the other half of her income she’d been making before.  She doesn’t have to reorder alcohol from Puffy as often, which is another good thing considering Puffy seems to be dealing with her own troubles at present.  In theory, Niki should be doing better than ever.  She’s not.

The bloodiest parts of this mess are probably what should scare her the most, but she isn’t sure.  Bodies are turning up in the streets, and since Tubbo has apparently taken on the mantle of controlling the streets, she’d expected the violence to die down, but it hasn’t.  The Badlanders are more aggressive, territorial and secretive, and Tubbo’s lot––she doesn’t really know what to call them, they’re certainly not Schlatt’s dogs anymore––are too bold, bold in the way a cat puffs up to scare away a bigger animal.  Attendance at the speakeasy has died down in part due to that.  People are nervous to go out at night, because if it’s not the gangs getting into petty scuffles around the block, it’s other dead.  Someone is attacking people deemed undesirable.  Niki’s speakeasy caters to no one but the undesirable.  She doesn’t know what worries her more, the dead bodies, often times faces she recognizes as local common criminals, and those she doesn’t recognize, she can guess also share similar records, or the ones who aren’t murdered.  It seems there is one person behind this threat, or maybe a group sharing the same mask.  People will ask to spend the night at the Secret City, skittish and bruised.  They’re not hardened criminals––largely because it seems this person doesn’t like to let hardened criminals live––the people that come to her for help, injured but alive, they’re the homeless, they’re fences who work on the street, people like Karl doing something harmless like selling stolen watches, and whoever is out there, lurking like a ghost, thinks that warrants bloody retribution?  This is wrong.  All of it, whatever is happening out there, she feels like she’s trapped in the bottom of a kettle, waiting for the pressure to build and finally boil over.  She’s considered on more than one occasion moving the bakery, finding property deep in Puffy’s territory, Puffy had offered her help more than once, but she can’t bring herself to do it.  This is where she’s always been, it’s where people know to go, and changing that now, it feels unfair.  She won’t abandon any of them.  Tubbo still keeps her bakery safe, actually safe, not in any manner like Schlatt’s so-called protection, and he does so perhaps viciously, but at least for now, there’s no reason for her to move.  Not really.

Trouble does not keep itself neatly contained in the streets away from her and her family, nor is it always something so blunt as violence.  Her little brother doesn’t talk to her.  He doesn’t go out with Tommy and Tubbo.  He just works.  Niki will tell him he doesn’t have to, that she’s fine on her own and he can go see friends, but Ranboo just shrugs and says “they’re busy.  I’d rather just hang out with you right now.”  Niki isn’t used to Ranboo not telling her things, nor Tubbo and Tommy.  She prefers when they had stumbled home after getting into trouble and immediately babbled a confession at her, like her knowing was important somehow, like she could always make things right.  It doesn’t feel that long ago.  Where Tubbo had learned he could tell her when something had gone wrong and there wouldn’t be harsh consequences, where Tommy trusted her enough to not act like a guarded, hunted dog, all bark and no bite, and instead had talked to her like her help wasn’t a threat.  And Ranboo, who did things for himself and not for her for once in his life; he’d run around with his friends and had come home late sometimes and had finally had something to actually apologize to her for.  Niki doesn’t know why that has slipped away.  Tubbo had acted oddly, cutting off Quackity and arguing in her speakeasy––Niki cannot remember Tubbo ever raising his voice like that, let alone in front of an audience––and he never looks open to conversation when he does still turn up, he just sits quietly in the corner with Jack, the two of them talking in hushed tones and Niki knows they stop talking whenever she walks too close.  It hurts, and worse than hurt, it’s wrong.  Her boys don’t sneak around her unless it’s for shoplifting from a sweet shop or trying to smuggle an injured squirrel into Ranboo’s bedroom.

The nights Tommy still turns up––rarely on the nights Tubbo is there, and never together, and if someone is there, whoever was there first will find some excuse to leave, which is profoundly wrong––if Tommy is there it’s usually to heckle Wilbur.  Tommy seems unchanged, he’s still loud and a bit rude and always ready for a good joke, but Niki knows him better.  There’s the more surface-level changes, he’s a bit scruffier than usual, and there’s this strange duality of him being more quick to refuse her offers of help and more inclined to ask for it.  She’ll ask if he wants to spend the night and he jumps to say no, but that same day he’ll ask her if she has anything leftover from the bakery that she needs to toss.  Always with a joking tone, like he’s just a teenager with a sweet tooth, but Niki knows it’s different now.  She buries the urge to ask him, “are you not eating enough?” because she knows doing so will make Tommy not accept anything.  There are deeper changes too, ones she has to look more carefully for.  Tommy comes to the Secret City alone.  He will still talk with Ranboo, he’ll talk with her, and oddly enough he’d talk quite a bit with Wilbur, but in the pauses in between his usual rough banter, when he’s stopped taunting Wilbur, he looks tense.  He looks tense like he did before he realized the speakeasy was for people like him.  Tommy views strangers as threats or targets or often both.  He moves through the world like a prey animal and a scavenger, but Niki hasn’t seen that tension cross her doorstep in a long time.  He looks tired too.  Maybe as tired as Tubbo does.

She can’t read Ranboo anymore.  She thinks he might know more about what’s going on than she does, but she’s not sure.  She’s never not sure.  When she asks, Ranboo is always neutral and avoidant in reply, and it’s hard to decide if he looks more worried when she asks about them or if that’s just the persisting, quiet anxiety he’s worn for weeks now.

Niki is good at not prying, to a point.  She’s been perhaps too lenient with Wilbur, who had turned up so mysteriously.  She’d done the basics, told him he should look for a job, that he can’t live on their couch forever, but that doesn’t tell her much.  Wilbur had once been her best friend.  That was a long time ago.  Still, between the two of them, Niki finds it easier to dig a little more at a man she hasn’t seen in years than at her little brother about his friends who might be her little brothers too.

“Morning, Wil,” Niki says.  It’s Monday.  The Bakery closes on Mondays, it gives them time to rest from the weekend rush.  Hence, this is one of the few times she’s still in the apartment when Wilbur stirs.

Wilbur sits up blearily from the couch, curls askew.  “Morning…” He rubs his eyes.

“How are you so tired?” Niki asks.  “You don’t have a job, what is it you stay up late to do?”

Wilbur smiles halfheartedly.  “Find trouble.”  He adds more insistently, “and play for your speakeasy sometimes.”

“Could you work on finding a job before you find trouble?” She teases.  “And play at my speakeasy.  I need you there to keep me company, but maybe a proper job too.”

Wilbur wakes up a bit more in his embarrassment, sheepish.  “Er, yeah.  Probably should do that.”

“Yeah,” Niki says pointedly.

Wilbur gets up, pulling on the same wrinkled white button up he wore yesterday over his undershirt.  “You… didn’t happen to make enough coffee I could have some, perchance?”

She rolls her eyes at him and nods to the pot.

“Ah, you’re a saint,” he mumbles.

There is a brief calm, Wilbur getting himself a cup, and Niki content to lean against the counter and drink hers, thinking.  Wilbur is freshly awake.  He is not a morning person.  Niki knows he is weak and however much he’ll loathe it, it’s the perfect time to push.

“So, we haven’t had much time to talk, Wil.  Feels like you’re always running around doing something, or I’m running around doing something.”

“Oh?” Wilbur says mildly.  “Yeah, yeah guess so,” he sips coffee.

“How’s home?”

Wilbur seems to almost choke, quickly lowering his mug.  “Home?”

“You know, where you came from?  Where you’ve been living?  For the past eight years?” Niki raises her eyebrows at him.

Wilbur almost winces.  “That, uh.  That didn’t really feel like home.”

Niki laughs.  “Okay, you’re very dramatic, do you know that?”  She’s unfazed, continuing on.  She knows some, she knows quite a bit, actually.  Niki can be quiet, but she listens.  There’s something wrong with Phil and Wilbur, and while that’s not new, maybe she’d imagined he’d have grown out of it when he grew up into a proper adult.  “How’s Phil?  How’s…”  She tries to remember other things she’s learned from their brief conversations over the last months and her even briefer amount of contact with Phil over the last eight years.  “How’s your… step-mom?  Do you get along okay?”

“Kristin?” Wilbur seems surprised, as if he hadn’t imagined she was an option for a subject of conversation.  “She’s great. Like, professionally she sort of scares me, but she’s really fun and she makes my dad happy, so.”  He shrugs.  “Can’t hold her choice in business against her, really.”

Niki notes he had skipped over her question about Phil.  “She’s great, but she sort of scares you?  Professionally?”

“She’s, you know,” Wilbur sets down his mug and waves his hands mysteriously, “the Lady Death of Salt Lake City.”

“Oh.”  Niki had not heard that name before, but then again, she already knows more than she wants to about the criminals that can touch her life, let alone keeping up with the ones that don’t.  “So. When you said Phil is more working in the background..?”

“Working for her,” Wilbur nods.  “He’s got a new––well, not really new now––reputation. Angel of Death,” Wilbur says mildly like his father has done something as simple as getting a promotion at the bank.

Niki nods, processing this.  That reputation truly isn’t new to her.  She can’t imagine Wilbur hadn’t heard it before, but Wilbur seems to be under the impression the title came from Kristin.  Phil had chosen the Crowfather as his title, but the City comes up with their own names for their Gods.  It was here that label started.  Phil was a complex man.  He could be, and often had been, ruthless.  He had rules, though.  If he kills someone who still has family to leave behind, he pays for the funeral.  The payments are anonymous, but connections were made regardless.  Phil would murder someone and then lay them to rest, sometimes to the horror of and other times to the relief of their families.  Phil was an Angel of Death long before he found a Death to follow.  Niki continues carefully, nudging the subject.  “Bit of a change from the Crowfather.”

“Not really,” Wilbur says gloomily, and Niki thinks perhaps he did know that title.  “Same business.”  That blasé addition makes her reconsider.  It seems Wilbur is just as unsettled by his father’s work as before.  Niki doesn’t blame him for it.  Of course, she has a bit of a soft spot for Phil.  He’d been good to her and Ranboo.  She’s not so picky as to scorn that even if he’s done things she cannot consider as anything but awful.

Niki continues quickly, before her own line of thinking strays any more grim.  “And is Techno still around?”

“Yeah, as long as Phil is.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” she smiles.  “How is he, then?  Well, how do you think he is?”

Wilbur shrugs.  “They’re the same, Niki.  Alright?  I don’t have anything to tell you, because they’re the same as they always were,” he says coldly.  “You don’t need to bother asking anymore.”

“Wil, I’m asking because I care about them.  You’re really going to be weird about it?” Niki says almost gently, because she knows that way will get Wilbur to actually care.

He wilts.  “Sorry, I’m sorry, Niki,” he presses against his forehead, eyes closed as if warding off a headache.  “You’re right, that was… that was a bit dick-ish of me.”

“Yep.  It was a bit dick-ish,” she laughs.  “I know I’ve said it before, but I’ve missed you, Wil.”

Wilbur, as always, looks surprised.  “Yeah?  What’d you do that for?” He teases.

That gets another laugh out of her and Wilbur looks so proud of himself.  Niki doesn’t know what help this will bring, but knowing a shred more about what’s going on with Wilbur at least feels like progress of some sort.  It doesn’t touch the bigger issues haunting her life or her business, but she wants to know her best friend again, she wants him to be her best friend again.  One day.

“I do have a request for you today, Wilbur.”

Wilbur shifts, sitting up straighter.  “Oh?”

“When you’re out… finding trouble, could you also find a few job applications?  For me?”

Wilbur nods, slouching in his shame.  “I will.  I can for sure do that, Niki.”

“Okay.  I’m going to hold you to that, Wil,” she says warningly, because she knows him, and even with the best of intentions, she knows he’s just as likely to turn up with zero job applications and some grand story about what happened that day instead.

“It was… it was good talking, Niki.  Really,” Wilbur is eager to get out of this conversation.  “Um, I’m gonna… I’m gonna get a start on my day, yeah?”  He smiles awkwardly and side steps past her out of the kitchen.

She smiles.  It’s a little fun to make Wilbur nervous, and quite warranted considering his slacking on his side of their friendship.  “Bye, Wil.”

“Bye!”  The front door shuts, and Niki is once more alone.  She’d let Ranboo sleep in.  She doesn’t have especially high hopes for Wilbur, but somehow he still seems like the problem she has the best understanding of and therefore the best chance of fixing.  Niki sighs, regretting her own line of thought.  She shouldn’t have to fix any of them.

~

Wilbur had told Niki while wandering today he’d grab a few job applications.  Thus far he had not done so.  Wilbur had never had an actual job in his fucking life, and he wasn’t enthused by the thought of starting now.  He hadn’t planned on sticking around long enough to have to pay rent, but here he’s remained.  Thus far he’s just wandered the streets as per usual.  He’d deny it if asked, but right now he’s waiting for Tommy to come barreling into him.  That kid always manages to find him in this city, it’s almost impressive, if not also a bit concerning.  Thus far, the kid hasn’t showed.  Wilbur doesn’t know why that makes him nervous.  Last he saw him, Tommy had complained about the new management at the hotel giving him grief, bad enough his hands were all bloody.  It doesn’t bode well.

Wilbur also wants to go back down into the subway tunnels.  It’s not a logical draw, more it feels like a morbid compulsion, l’appel du vide and all that.  He knows there’s nothing down there for him, except maybe rats and tetanus, but nonetheless.  He’s not scared, but also he sort of doesn’t want to go without Tommy, for no reason in particular.

It’s like Wilbur summons him into being.

“Hello, you stupid swiss cheese of a man!” Tommy appears beside him, making him jump.  “Thrown yourself at any more local mob patrols lately?”

Wilbur has one hand over his racing heart.  “No.  Haven’t found the time,” he says irritably.  “The fuck d’you mean swiss cheese?”

“Oh, ‘cause you were almost full of bullet holes.”  Tommy makes finger guns.

“Right, of course,” Wilbur scoffs. “Where did you even come from?”

“The shadows,” Tommy says with a dramatic whisper.  “Actually, if you don’t mind I’d like it if you joined me in the shadows,” he’s staring at something over Wilbur’s shoulder.

“What?  Why?”

“‘Cause that man––the one across the street obviously looking for me––I currently have his wallet,” Tommy nods at an irritable man wandering in a suit and ducks back into an alley, Wilbur finding himself quick to follow.

“So, still hard at work, I see?” Wilbur says dryly.

“More so than you, I see,” Tommy says mockingly.  “Not an especially productive day, though.  I’m… I’m not tired, but I’m a bit bored of the daily grind, so!” Tommy nods like that settles the matter, excusing some weariness that Wilbur hadn’t even noticed.  Wilbur had noticed that Tommy clearly has some hangups about being seen as weak, so he doesn’t question it.

“Yeah, yeah fair enough.  I told Niki I’d pick up some job applications,” Wilbur says gloomily.

“Ha!  Have fun with that!  Chaining yourself to the Machine, huh?”  Tommy tuts him.  “Poor thing.”

Wilbur glances at Tommy’s hands, which are currently perusing his stolen wallet.  He can see cloth stained a rusted red.  “How’re your… battle wounds, then?”  He nods to them.

Tommy snaps the wallet shut, burying his hands in his pockets.  “Fine, thank you very much.  I heal like, super fast.”

“Really?  Looks like you could use some actual bandages.”

“These are basically the same thing,” Tommy pouts.  “But…” he glances at his hands in his pockets.  “If you’re buying?”

Wilbur is not as broke as he was previously, as he’s gotten at least some tips playing at the Secret City.  He gives some of it to Niki, a feeble approximation of rent, but it’s still something.  It’s definitely not much.  Not enough he should be blowing it on getting some gauze and anti-infectant for some random kid.  Wilbur sighs.

“Come on.  There’s a drugstore around the corner.”

“I know there is.  This is my city.”

“It’s mine too!  I’ve lived here longer than you have.”

“Yeah, but it’s changed since you were here, old man,” Tommy nods wisely.  He stops outside the drugstore.  “I’ll wait here.  I’ve definitely nicked shit from here before and they won’t want to see me.”

“Haven’t you nicked shit from everywhere?”

“Yeah, but here I got caught.”

“Touché,” Wilbur smiles, amused before entering the shop.  He grabs gauze and neomycin before heading up to the counter.  “A pack of Marlboros too.”

The man behind the counter nods, grabbing a pack.  Wilbur glances at the register and what it rings up to.  He stares doubtfully at his own wallet, hesitating over his lineup.  He grabs the neomycin, intending on putting it back, but as he turns he sees movement out of the corner of his eye and glances over to see Tommy pressing against the glass and making faces at him.  Wilbur buries a laugh.

“Actually, scrap the Marlboros.  This is it for me,” he puts the antibiotic back on the counter, only processing his own choice after the fact.  It unsettles him. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Nonetheless, he returns to the street.  “Here,” he shoves the gauze and neosporin into his hands.

“Thanks, man!” Tommy sits down right there on the window ledge and begins peeling the scraps of sheets off his cut up hands.

“Wait, you’re not gonna wash them first?” Wilbur reaches out to stop him.

Tommy looks amused, glancing around the street.  “You see a bath anywhere?  Trust me, the river will do way more harm than good.”

“No, that’s not what I–” Wilbur sighs.  “Come on,” he nods toward the store.

Tommy shakes his head.  “No, it’s like I said, they won’t want me in there–”

“Who gives a shit?  I’ll go with you, we’ll go to the bathroom, and I’ll help you dress them,” Wilbur says more insistently.  He’s more surprised when Tommy doesn’t continue to protest, just stands to follow.  Tommy looks surprised as well.

Tommy very deliberately stays behind Wilbur, whistling and scanning the shelves in the most conspicuous way possible, until Wilbur drags him into a vaguely horrifying bathroom.

“Honestly, this feels worse than the street,” Tommy crinkles his nose.

Wilbur gives him a look.  “Wash your hands.”

Tommy rolls his eyes but obliges, wincing all the while.  Wilbur stares disapprovingly at the crusted blood and cracked scabbing of the cut across either hand.  Tommy’s hands are also filthy.  Wilbur is also trying to bottle every screaming warning about infection; he knows Tommy isn’t exactly in a place to take good care of himself.

“This fuckin’ sucks,” Tommy mutters.  “Do you have any idea how hard it is to pick pockets in these conditions?”

“It’s not like I did that, why’re you complaining to me?”

“Because you’re here.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes.  “Fine.”  He shoves a wad of paper towels at him.  “Dry them.”

“I know how to dress a wound, dickhead!  Just ‘cause I’m not rich enough to buy all this fancy shit doesn’t mean I don’t know how to dress a wound,” Tommy snaps.  “And I don’t need your help!” He says when Wilbur reaches toward him.

“Your hands are hurt!  You need hands to dress a wound!  Come on, man, stop being a little bitch and just let me,” Wilbur snaps back.

“Fine!  Fine, go for it!  If you want to play doctor, fine!” Tommy rolls his eyes, muttering, half under his breath, “call me a little bitch… from the king of little bitches…”

Wilbur ruefully does so, pasting antibiotic cream onto the cuts, Tommy flinching and pulling away as it burns.

“Ow!  Careful!” Tommy whines.

“It’s so it doesn’t get infected!” Wilbur snaps.

Tommy grumbles wordlessly before trailing off grumpily.

It’s quiet for a time, for once Tommy without anything snarky to say.  Wilbur gets nervous when the silence continues by the time he starts wrapping one hand in gauze.  He glances up, but Tommy is just watching him work with a solemn frown, wary and unsure, like he’s expecting Wilbur to do some harm.  Wilbur deigns not to think on that too hard, instead he refocuses, finishing wrapping Tommy’s other hand.

“Oooh, look at me, I’m Wilbur I can wrap cuts like an expert, I’m so smart,” Tommy says in a high voice, staring at his wrapped hands with clear satisfaction.

“Is that supposed to be a thank you?” Wilbur says dryly.  “Take this, okay?  Just… Don’t let your hands get so grubby,” Wilbur shoves the rest of the roll of gauze and antibiotics into his hands.

“Right, I got a choice in that, do I?” Tommy scoffs.

“Come on.  This place is fucking rank,” Wilbur heads back out the door.

“My hands still hurt.”

“Tough luck.”  They return outside, Wilbur rummaging in his pockets.  “Actually, I’ve got something else for you.  You still got that torch on you?”

“What?  Yeah, why?” Tommy asks suspiciously.

Wilbur offers Tommy two batteries.  He’d been holding onto them for a few days now, having scrounged them from Niki and Ranboo’s junk drawer.  “Fancy another trip into the tunnels?”

“Oh, I knew there was a catch!  What, you think ‘cause you buy a guy a bandage that he has to follow you around and obey your every whim?!” Tommy scowls, genuinely reproachful.

“What?  No!  No, that’s not why I got you a fucking bandage, are you joking?  If you don’t wanna go, I don’t care, I just thought…” Wilbur doesn’t know what he just thought.  “I dunno.  Might be another adventure.”

“I don’t need more adventure.  I’m fuckin’ made of adventure.  I’ve got oodles of adventure.”

“Okay, then don’t come,” Wilbur shrugs, still walking in the general direction of the maintenance entrance they had fled through before.

Tommy keeps pace.  “Wait, wait but that doesn’t mean I want you to go alone!  You’ll get eaten by rats, remember?”

Wilbur laughs.  “I knew you’d want to come.”

“You knew I’d what?  You knew I’d fucking want to what?”

“Shut up!” Wilbur cackles.  “You’re the most annoying fucking child!”

“And you want me to follow you into some fuckin’ dark-ass tunnels?  Hm?  You’re fucking bonkers.  I’m not about to get serialed by a man talking about come–”

“Get what?  Get cerealed?”

“Yeah!  Yeah, serialed!  As in serial fuckin’ murdered!” Tommy snaps.  He does stop in the alleyway, staring at the old maintenance door they had fled through last time.

“Wait, wait go back, you would get serial murdered?  Doesn’t that imply plural?  How the fuck would you get murdered multiple times?” Wilbur scoffs.

“You don’t know me.  You don’t know my murder history,” Tommy says aloofly.  Tommy puts the batteries in his torch, glancing up at the door on occasion like it might bite him.  “No, no but really, why the fuck do you want to go down there again?”

“Aren’t you curious?  That banging noise, look, it was probably just like… pipes settling or old machinery, but I bet we could… we could find other sneaky entrances over the city or something!” Wilbur says.

Tommy looks unenthused, but nonetheless, he’s put batteries in his torch and looks grimly prepared.  “Fine, fine I will go with you, but after this you’re buying me food, got it?”

“That… that sounds like worse bribery than me just getting you some gauze, what the fuck?” Wilbur gives him look.  “What, am I like, dangling cheese on a string down there for you?”

“Now you’ve just made it weird,” Tommy glowers at him before opening the door.  “Surprised no one else has gone down here if it’s that easy.”

“Um, that lock looks like it’s not busted and normal people obey big danger signs,” Wilbur points out as he enters the stairwell.

“Ah, psh.  Cowards!” Tommy scoffs, striding into the dark behind him before flicking on his torch.  “Oh, this is loads better!  I can actually see shit.”

“Don’t shine it in my eyes!” Wilbur hisses, batting his torch away.

“Don’t put your eyes by my torch!”

Wilbur gives him a look.

“Fine, fine, sorry,” Tommy says reluctantly.  “So, mole-man, what are we doing in the tunnels today?”

“I am…” Wilbur hesitates.  “I’m looking for this one platform.  It’s… for nostalgia reasons.”

“You’re nostalgic for a grubby ass train platform?” Tommy raises an eyebrow, striding ahead along the tracks.  They’ve been out of operation for years, but both of them keep off the actual rails.

“Yeah,” Wilbur tries to think of a reason he can give.  “Just…”

He’s saved from replying by Tommy shouting into the dark.  “HELLO?!”

Echoing back, “HELLO?!”

“HI, TOMMY!” Tommy shouts.

“HI, TOMMY!”

Tommy looks over at Wilbur, grinning.  “This tunnel is very polite.”

“Is it?  Are you and the tunnel making friends?” Wilbur says sarcastically, but he can’t resist a smile.

“SHUT UP, WILBUR!” Tommy shouts.

“SHUT UP, WILBUR!”

“See, we’re in agreement.”

“I’m not the one shouting, why do I need to shut up?”

“You were giving me sass, mister.  Tunnel and I don’t like that disrespect,” Tommy tuts him haughtily.

“And stop going ahead!  You don’t know where we’re going,” Wilbur quickens his pace to catch up.

“Oh, like you do?  Last I checked, you didn’t wander from platform to platform this way back in the olden days,” Tommy points out.

“Yeah, but I still know the direction–” Wilbur goes quiet.  There’s another noise, and it is not an echo.  It’s that same sound of metal banging together they had heard the last time.  It sounds about as close as it had the last time, that is, concerningly close.  Wilbur looks over at Tommy, to find him already staring back with wide, nervous eyes.  They listen.  There is silence for a time, the echo of the banging noise fading off, but then it resumes rapidly, three sharp bangs that echo off.  It stops for a moment, then three more, slow, measured.  Wilbur is quickly starting to doubt is “old machinery” theory from last time.

“It’s down that way, right?” Tommy whispers in the next pause, pointing down the tunnel.  He jumps when there are once more three sharp bangs.

“M-Maybe?” Wilbur says.  “The echo– I’m not sure which way.”

“I think it’s that one,” Tommy nods ahead.

Neither of them move.  The banging has yet to resume.  Knowing the direction doesn’t dictate what they do now.  Neither of them really want to see what it is, or more probable, who it is.  Tommy looks forward, shining his torch straight ahead.  The tunnel goes straight longer than the light reaches, so it shows only more blackness.

“What kind of nutcase goes banging around tunnels?” Tommy mutters.

“I mean, us kinds of nutcases,” Wilbur points out, but still he doesn’t move down the tunnel.  It’s Wilbur’s turn to jump when the banging returns without warning, three sharp clangs of metal, and a pause.

“I wanna check it out,” Tommy says, but he already looks like he regret the thought.

Wilbur waits for the next three slow bangs to fade out to reply.  “Okay.  Okay, fine, but the moment we see anything weird, we bail, alright?”

Three sharp bangs.

“Yeah, alright,” Tommy nods and seems to muster some bravery.  He starts off down the tunnel first, stopping often to look back and make sure Wilbur is close behind him, even as he can see Wilbur’s torch shining ahead alongside his.

The banging continues on like clockwork.  Three sharp knocks, whoever is responsible seems to take a break, and then continues slowly, before trying rapid knocks again.  Always in sets of three.  Wilbur feels like he’s missing something; he’s already deeply uneasy, and then his torch glances off of a shape splayed out across the tracks.  Wilbur fumbles forward, reaching out to stop Tommy, his torch refocusing on it.  It’s definitely a body.  He has a feeling they’re not merely unconscious.  Wilbur can’t see their face, they’re laid out on their stomach, head turned the other way, so all he can see is what looks like a red cloth tied around a head of short, dark hair.  There’s definitely blood, covering the arm visible to them.

Tommy spots what his torch is shining on, and to Wilbur’s shock, starts running forward.

“Oh fuck, no, nononononono, hold on a fucking second, it can’t– no, oh my fucking god, no fucking way, it can’t be, it can’t be– f-fuck–” Tommy babbles frantically, voice high and hoarse, words almost overlapping.  Wilbur lunges forward to stop him when he runs toward the strange corpse in the dark, but Tommy is too quick.  Tommy falls to his knees by the body, and before Wilbur can warn him of the hundred reasons why it’s a bad idea, Tommy touches it, rolling it over onto its side.  Tommy falls back, face buried in his hands, and it takes a moment for Wilbur to process that he’s relieved.

“Fuck… fuck, it’s not him… it’s not him…” Tommy’s knees are tucked up into his chest, rocking slightly, sounding breathless.

“Tommy?” Wilbur says cautiously.  “Are you… are you okay?”  He asks a rather stupid question, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

Tommy sniffs loudly, wiping his nose on his sleeve, and Wilbur pretends he can’t see Tommy’s cheeks are shiny and damp in the torchlight.  Tommy stares at the corpse again, without any apparent squeamishness at the sight, he still pores over it, like he’s trying to make sure.  “It’s not him,” Tommy croaks, reassuring himself more than informing Wilbur of anything.  Wilbur dares to stare at the body’s face.  The corpse it seems had been blindfolded by a strip of red cloth, but Wilbur can still see the lower half of his face, it’s a man with a patchy beard, a narrow, crooked nose, he seems to be just a few years older than Wilbur.

“Not who?” Wilbur asks gently.

Tommy blinks, and seems to come back to himself in some way, clambering to his feet.  “Nothing,” he’s still staring at the corpse.  “Thought it was… no one.  Just, one of my mates.  An old friend.  I don’t… I don’t see him as much anymore, and he’s… he gets dragged into some shit.  Doesn’t stay out of it like I do, and I always warned him, I always told him…” Tommy trails off, moving on.  “And wears a fuckin’ red headband, and from behind, it…” Tommy nods to the blindfold, trailing off again, his thoughts disconnected.  “A-And the blood on his arm, thought maybe it was… Just from behind and a ways back, not… not the face at all, just…” Tommy shakes his head.  “It’s… it’s not him,” he repeats.

Wilbur still feels almost sick with nerves.  This exchange had happened over the course of a lull in the banging, Wilbur isn’t sure if this pause has lasted longer than the last, but he’s not sure he wants to wait around for it to continue.  “We should go, Tommy.”

“What-?” Tommy glances up at him.  “Yeah,” Tommy takes one step back the direction they had come before pausing.  “What about the… the noise?” Tommy looks both ways, as if inviting it to continue.

“Tommy, that man, he didn’t die from natural causes,” Wilbur says softly.  “And if whoever did that to him is prowling around down here…” Wilbur hesitates.  He doesn’t want to scare the kid.  “I mean, the noise hasn’t gotten any closer.  We’ve gotten closer to it.  Like…” Wilbur looks back toward the stairwell he knows is somewhere in the dark behind them.  “Like they’re trying to draw us deeper in.”  Wilbur looks back at Tommy and sees he’s certainly failed to not scare the kid.

“We… we can’t tell anyone.  We can’t tell anyone about this, about the…” Tommy doesn’t even look at the corpse now, but Wilbur understands.  “Can’t go to the cops, least I can’t.  We… we can’t explain how we were down here a-and–”

“I know, Tommy.  We should go.”  Wilbur doesn’t know why he does it, he doesn’t think, he just does, but he offers Tommy his hand.  Wilbur almost doesn’t realize he’s done it until Tommy accepts.

Tommy’s expression doesn’t indicate confusion on his side of things, but he still seems sort of hazy, so Wilbur just starts walking, guiding them back to the street.  They emerge just as the surviving streetlights kick on, but it’s still far preferable to the dark underground.

“Right, I think… I think we should get out of here,” Wilbur starts walking.  “Don’t… don’t get all defensive if I offer, but d’you want me to walk you back to the hotel?”

“Nah, I’m… I’m good,” Tommy shrugs.

“Don’t do that, man, just… let me do it, alright?  It’ll make me feel better–”

“Not everything is about you, ay?” Tommy scoffs.  “I’m not going to the hotel no more.”

“Are you still having a hard time getting inside?  I thought you figured out a way around the… the stuff,” Wilbur stops when he realizes Tommy isn’t following, instead scuffing his feet and leaning against the wall of the alley.

“No, not just that…” Tommy trails off gloomily.  “The nutter that replaced Jack, y’know the one that put razors on the windows?  Now he’s checking the empty rooms with a fucking golf club.  Thought he was gonna crack my fuckin’ ‘ead open…”

Wilbur steps closer to Tommy, immediately finding himself bottling rage and horror in equal measure.  “He came at you with a golf club?!”

Tommy steps back on impulse, scowling.  “No, he asked if I wanted to go a round and I told him I only did crazy golf- yes he swung at me, dumbass…”

“Holy shit, Tommy, you– Don’t tell me you’re going back there!  I mean, where are you gonna go?”  Wilbur doesn’t know why he feels panicked.

“Obviously not!  That’s what I just said.   I’ll…” Tommy’s feeble excuse of saying he’ll find somewhere else to crash dies with a shiver.  After the night they’ve had, he’s a little more vulnerable.  “Can I… Can I walk to Niki’s with you?  And… And I’ll figure something out on the way there.”

“Yeah, something like sleeping there.”

Tommy frowns, but he doesn’t say no this time.

~

Niki wants to talk to Ranboo.  She doesn’t know what to do with herself on her days off anymore.  Puffy doesn’t have time to go boxing with her anymore, and Eret is busy with the museum and some fancy new investments she’s made so she rarely has time to come over for their usual chats, and if Eret is busy HBomb is busy too, Karl even seems to be busy nowadays.  Ranboo is in the same boat, not that Niki really understands why.  Even if Tubbo has something going on, Tommy is always available.  Niki also has a feeling that Ranboo knows she wants to talk to him, because he’s been finding excuses to go back to his room, before realizing there’s nothing to do in there, coming back out, realizing his sister clearly having some sort of emotion towards him, and finds an excuse again.

“Aren’t you going to help me with dinner?” Niki asks as Ranboo is halfway down the hall back to his room.  He turns on his heels, looking a shred less anxious than someone walking to the gallows and nods.

“Yep!”

“Okay,” Niki can’t help but be amused.  Even if she were actually mad at Ranboo, which isn’t the word she would use for whatever she’s feeling at present, Ranboo is well past the age where she could attempt to ground him, at this point what he’s dreading is her saying she’s disappointed in him.  Which, to be fair, tends to be viewed as a death sentence by all three of them, Ranboo and Tommy and Tubbo.

Ranboo hums to fill the quiet, glancing at her often, and to her surprise, he speaks up first, methodically chopping vegetables so he doesn’t have to look over at her.  “You doin’ okay?”

“What?” She looks over at him, thrown off.  “Yeah.  I think so.  Are you?”

Ranboo doesn’t seem to believe her.  “Yeah!”

Niki doesn’t really believe him either.  Quiet for a bit, neither quite sure of how to proceed.

“How’s Tubbo?  And Tommy?”

“Huh?  Oh, I think…” He falters, "I think okay.”

“Have you not seen them much?”  She already knows the answer.  She asks anyway.

“No,” he sounds amused.  “I mean, I’ve been with you.  When would I have seen them?  I mean, you haven’t seen your friends much.”

“Well, they’re busy with criminal things,” Niki says teasingly.

“Yeah, well, mine too.” Ranboo says, his humor sharper, bitter.

“But even before, you all made time for each other, didn’t you?  Do you know why Tubbo hasn’t come to the Secret City with Tommy at all?  It doesn’t seem like them.”

“I don’t know everything they do, Niki,” Ranboo snaps.

“Ranboo,” Niki can’t help the hint of hurt in her voice.

“Sorry,” he mutters.

“It’s… it’s fine,” she sighs.  “You don’t talk to me anymore, Ranboo.  I just… I just want to know what’s happening.”

“Maybe I just don’t have much to say,” Ranboo shrugs.

“Are you… are you guys not friends anymore?”

“No,” Ranboo says quickly.  His face scrunches up, and he doesn’t even look upset really, more so worried.  “Do we have to talk about this right now?”

“When else are we going to?!” Niki snaps.  “Sorry.  I’m sorry, Ranboo, I’m just… I don’t want you to lose them.”

“You say that like I have a choice.”

“You always have a choice!” Niki grows emphatic.

“Really?” Ranboo is defensive.  “Did you have a choice when you lost Wilbur?”

Icy silence.  Niki is taken aback, a lump in her throat, because it wasn’t just harsh or startling, coming from Ranboo, saying that to her, it’s almost cruel.  Worse when he continues.

“He left you, Niki, and now you’re… you’re letting him live here…”

“You agreed!”

“I thought it was gonna be for a couple days!  Not a couple months!”

“He left everyone, Ranboo. He didn’t just leave me.”

“I don’t care about everyone!  I care about you.  And he hurt you!  And– And it’s like you’re not even mad at him!” Ranboo’s voice breaks slightly, choked up rage that isn’t just meant for Wilbur.

“It sounds like you are.”

“Because you should be,” he says accusingly.  “A-And it’s not fair that he stopped talking to you, he just… he just moved on.  He didn’t… he didn’t think about it.  Like he didn’t even care.”

“Ranboo…” Niki reaches out to him, he pulls away.  “You know it’s okay if you’re hurting right now, right?”

“This isn’t about me. Not right now, okay?  I know I– I know–” Ranboo cuts himself off, frustrated by his own emotions.  “Let’s– Let’s just pick one, and right now I… I wanna talk about Wilbur, and–”

The front door of their apartment opens.  Wilbur and Tommy enter, and immediately read the tension of whatever they have just interrupted.

“Uh.  Ayup?” Tommy gives the two of them a nod.  “Well, I’ve got you home safe, Wilbur, I ought to be going–” he turns back to the door and Wilbur grabs his sleeve.

“Tommy needs somewhere to stay.”

“Do not–”

“The new hotel manager came at him with a golf club.”

“He what?!” Ranboo is snapped out of his own brooding.

“And I kicked his ass and left!  It’s not a problem,” Tommy whines.

“Yeah, but you can’t go back, and you shouldn’t be just sleeping outside, Tommy,” Wilbur says pointedly.

“I’ve done it before!”

“No,” Niki says sharply.  Tommy stares at her, startled.  “Tommy that is in no way safe.  Not right now, okay?  You’re staying here.”

Tommy quickly realizes he no longer has a choice.  “Right… fine, but just for tonight, alright?”

Niki turns to Wilbur, just as piercing.  “Did you get any job applications?”

If Wilbur could sink into the floor, he would.  “W-Well, I… I meant to, it’s just… some things came up…”

“What?  What things?”

“Sorry, sorry, nothing, it was… it was stupid of me.  Never mind,” Wilbur winces, knowing how useless his excuses are.

Ranboo gives Niki a weighted glance that Wilbur is at a loss to understand, and Niki is resolutely ignoring it.

“Tommy, I’m sorry, but if you’re staying here, you’ve got to take a shower,” Niki nods Tommy down the hall.

“Okay, rude, not my fault that I haven’t been able to use the hotel showers in a… in a little while…” he grumbles, following her.

For a dangerous, brief amount of time, Wilbur and Ranboo are alone.

“What came up?” Ranboo asks.

Wilbur notes the hint of ice in his tone and hesitates.  “It was… it was a cheap excuse, I… I got distracted with Tommy.  That’s all.  No good reason.”

“So… so why’d you say you did?” Ranboo says quietly.

“I don’t… I don’t know.  Felt bad about it, really,” Wilbur shrugs.

“Right,” Ranboo is cool and unfeeling.  “Niki and I were making dinner.  Do you think you could help?”

Wilbur knows it’s not a request.

“Right, right, let me… let me wash my hands,” Wilbur nods, going to the sink.  “What’re you making?”

“Um, baked rutabaga and parmesan chicken?”

“Rutabaga…” Wilbur laughs fondly.  “Right.”

Silence until Niki returns.

“Thanks, Wil,” Niki says, reentering the kitchen.

“Sure!  Sure, it’s the… it’s the least I can do.”

“Yep,” Ranboo agrees quietly.

Niki gives him a warning look, before proceeding as if she hadn’t heard him.  “Ranboo, Tommy is going to borrow some of your clothes.”

“Fine with me,” Ranboo says.

Wilbur looks between the two of them, eyes wide.  He focuses on his assigned task.  A terse half hour passes before Tommy returns, hair still dripping wet, dampening the collar of one of Ranboo’s shirts.  Tommy’s had to roll up the pant legs of his jeans substantially.

Wilbur laughs.  “You look like a wet dog.”

“Do I?” Tommy strides over to him and shakes his head so water flies everywhere, largely into Wilbur’s face.

“Tommy!  Come on, man, not… not in the kitchen,” Ranboo says helplessly.

“Sorry,” Tommy rolls his eyes, before catching sight of Niki and offering with more sincerity, “sorry!”

“Ranboo, can you get your desk chair?  We need one more.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Their tiny dining table is typically only used for two, a third chair is there for a guest, but it’s rare for them to have more than that company in the apartment.  It’s far easier to host in the speakeasy.  Niki has dragged the table out from the wall so a chair can be put on the fourth side.  Wilbur helps set the table and Tommy gathers drinks and despite the lingering tension, it feels almost cozy.  The four of them have settled in, Tommy eating with a disconcerting amount of enthusiasm, but no one at the table has the heart to scold him for it.  Once Tommy has cleared a plate and gone back for seconds, he begins to peer around the table.

“Brrr. Bit chilly in here, eh?  What’s got you all up in a huff?”  Tommy is quite good and prodding the one issue everyone else is still avoiding.

Wilbur doesn’t feel like he knows what’s going on, so he doesn’t speak, Ranboo loathes the thought of being the one to speak up first, especially about confrontation, and Niki neither wants to lie to Tommy nor get into things.  Tommy waits.

“Well I think whatever has gotten you lot in a mood, you should do some soul searching, reevaluate your pri-or-i-tees,” he enunciates every syllable around a mouthful of rutabaga.  “Like, Ranboo, handsome lad like you, what on earth could be troubling that brain of yours?  You’re a baker, you’re a looker, you’re all… like, sensitive and shit, you’re a catch!  Niki, if you’ve got problems, you should just… y’know, kick their asses like you always do.  In what fuckin’ world does Niki Nihachu feel troubled by something she can’t wreck shop over?  You’ve got a badass speakeasy and everything!  You don’t fear no pigs, the state should fear you!”  Tommy nods once like that settles the matter, before refocusing on his plate.  The tension doesn’t break, but it does crack a little.

“No grand input for me?” Wilbur says dryly.

“Nah, I know why you’ve got troubles, and it’s your own fault,” Tommy shrugs.

Ranboo laughs.

“Hey!” Wilbur says, indignant.

“You gonna tell me I’m wrong?  Hm?” Tommy gives him a look.

“Yeah, are you, Wil?” Niki smiles.  “I mean, you couldn’t pick up one job application?”

Wilbur is flushing red.  “Look, maybe I… I’m not thrilled at the thought of scrounging together some shitty nine-to-five with a dickhead boss…”

“How do you know what job shit is like?  You’ve never worked a day in your fuckin’ life,” Tommy jeers.

“Have you had a job before, Tommy?” Wilbur says pointedly.

“More than you.”

“I’d say both of you don’t know anything about having a real job,” Ranboo points out.

“And I’d say you don’t know much about having shitty nine-to-five and a dickhead boss,” Niki adds.  “You got lucky too, Ranboo.”

“I mean, maybe I do–”

Niki gasps, dramatically acting offended, throwing her napkin at him.

“Hey!  Hey, I’m kidding,” Ranboo hunches down which does very little to make himself a smaller target.

“I dunno, Ranbus, she’s a tough egg to crack, y’know?  She runs a tight ship.  She hasn’t put up with any nonsense as long as I’ve known her.  She’s been immovable since she was twelve, probably longer,” Wilbur teases.  Niki rolls her eyes at him, poorly masking a laugh.  Wilbur glances back over at Ranboo, startled to find Ranboo staring at him, eyebrows slightly raised, mouth open slightly like he’s unsure of how to say something, to describe whatever unreadable expression he’s currently stabbing into Wilbur’s chest.  “What?” Wilbur shifts uncomfortably.

“You haven’t called me that since I was little.”

“Well, I– I haven’t been here a lot, have I?” Wilbur stammers.

“Yeah.  Guess not.”

Tommy snorts.  “Ranbus?  That’s fucking adorable, aw, little Ranbus!”

“No, nuh uh, you’re not starting with that,” Ranboo breaks his gaze, turning sharply to Tommy.  “Not allowed!  Not for you!”  He says it like he’s trying to get a dog to drop a sock.  “I’d prefer when you call me Ranboob to you calling me that.”

Tommy grins, “aw, good to hear it, Ranboob!  I shall only respect your proper title.”

Ranboo sighs head in his hands as realizes what he’s done.  “Oh no…”

Tommy continues his teasing, and Wilbur plays along, but he’s wrapped up in deeper thoughts right now, so many old aches and pains mingling with new ones, and he doesn’t know where to put it all down.

Dinner finishes in better spirits than it had started, Tommy offering to help clean up after with the same heroics of a soldier offering to dive on a grenade, but nonetheless, he does it.

“Right, then, good night, lads– and Niki,” Tommy settles in on the floor with ease, stealing a pillow from the couch.

“Tommy, you take the couch, man. I’ve had it for ages, I should shake things up and sleep on the floor for a change,” Wilbur offers.

“What’ve you got against floors?  I got nothin’ against ‘em!  Me and floors are old friends!” Is Tommy’s attempt at a defense.

“Mhm, Tommy, where did you sleep last night?” Niki asks pointedly before she goes to her own room.

“On a bench over on 30th until one of the pigs woke me up, why?”

Niki and Wilbur exchange a look.  “Take the couch, Tommy.”

“Tommy can stay with me in my room for the night!” Ranboo says perhaps too excitedly.

Tommy raises an eyebrow at him.  “Look, Ranboob, I did admit, you’re a handsome lad, but me?  I’m shy, I’m not ready for this step in our relationship–”

“Tommy,” Ranboo cuts him off exasperatedly.  “Come on, it’ll be like when we’d have sleepovers and stuff!  It’ll be fun,” Ranboo claps and points to his bedroom door.  “Come on!  Let’s go!”

“What, are we gonna braid each other’s hair and talk about girls?” Tommy rolls his eyes but clambers off the ground to follow.

“I mean, you can talk about girls.  I don’t think I will.”

Niki smiles, fond and relieved.  Ranboo had missed having company.  None of them are acknowledging the hole, the absence once occupied for so many years by Tubbo.  He should be here.  

Even as Tommy is grateful to have a bed, as he’s missed Ranboo’s company just as Ranboo had missed his, he’s trying really hard not to get weak right now.  He refuses to cry over something as ridiculous as the idea of his best friend––his former best friend?––not being in the place he is meant to.  Tubbo has changed.  Tommy knows this, Tommy knows he should be able to let go, because that’s not his best friend anymore, in more ways than one.  At the same time, Tommy knows if Tubbo showed up right now, no matter the state, no matter the blood on his hands, Tommy would only be able to hug him, to bring him back into the fold and say “Where have you been, Bee Boy?  You’re late.  And you missed dinner.”

Instead, he just follows Ranboo, and even as neither of them say it, he can read Ranboo’s silence for the same thought.  They miss him.

~

Wilbur has a difficult time falling asleep.  He’s perturbed by troubling thoughts, thoughts he hadn’t been prepared for.  It’s a peculiar list that’s been growing.  Only looking at today, not even the past months, and it’s enough to make his head spin.  He’d forgone cigarettes to get that scrappy kid some medicine he probably won’t even use.  And when Tommy had run to the body, he hadn’t felt scared like that in a long time.  Probably in as long a time since he called Ranboo Ranbus.

“Fuck…” Wilbur mutters into the dark.  He rolls over and almost screams.  Niki is currently making her way silently across the living room, he sits up sharply.  “Niki?”

“Sh!” She presses a finger to his lips.  She motions for him to follow.  “Come on the roof with me,” she whispers.  In her other hand, she has a bottle.

“The roof-? Right, fine,” Wilbur clambers to his feet.

“Take that blanket too.”

He does so, following her to door in the back of the kitchen, within it is a pantry, and on the opposite wall, a ladder.  He does not ask questions.

Niki unlocks a trapdoor, wincing when it creaks loudly, but as far as they can tell the boys haven’t been woken.

The roof isn’t quiet.  It’s well past midnight, but there’s the wind through the buildings and cars still making their way across the city.  Niki shuts the hatch behind him, gesturing to the roof.

“Put the blanket down.  Over here so we can look out,” she nods to the front of the building.  At this angle to the street, Wilbur can see all the way to the river, to the distant lights of the bridge.  They can’t see a single star in the sky here, but there’s something beautiful about it anyway.

Niki sits on the blanket, patting the spot beside her.  She rips the cork out of the bottle with her teeth, spitting it over the edge of the roof.  She spots Wilbur’s expression out of the corner of her eye and giggles.

“I run a speakeasy, Wilbur,” she says by way of explanation.

“I don’t think most bartenders are comfortable ripping a cork out with their teeth.”

Niki shrugs.  “How would I know?  I can’t exactly meet up with other bartenders in a prohibition state.”  She takes a swig, wincing.

“Touché,” Wilbur sits beside her.  “What’re we drinking tonight?”

“Um,” she takes another swig.  “Gin.”

“Gin?”

She nods.  “It’s popular.  I thought we might as well,” she offers him the bottle.

“Might as well…” Wilbur mutters.  He takes a drink, shuddering.  “That’s… that’s some strong gin, shit.”

“Feels…” Niki mulls it over, “appropriate?”

“What’s the occasion?” Wilbur smiles, still puzzled, but also oddly delighted.  He’s missed this.

“Um, not really an occasion, more like… a goal,” she takes back the bottle, takes a swig, and passes it back, nodding at him.  He obliges and takes another drink.

“Goal?”

“To get you, Wilbur Soot, drunk enough to… to spill your guts to me.”

Wilbur had been halfway through another swig when he chokes.  “Pardon?”

Niki smiles, all mischief.  “To be fair, I am drinking too.”

“Feels like I’ve been brought here under false pretenses.”

“What pretenses?” She laughs.

“Fine.  I dunno,” Wilbur smiles, offering her the bottle.  “Okay, if we’re… if we’re spilling guts, lets do it tit-for-tat, quid pro quo.”

She nods, “wie du mir, so ich dir.”

“Wie du mir, so ich dir,” Wilbur attempts to copy her pronunciation and he can’t tell from her smile if he succeeded or failed.  “So,” Wilbur asks the first thing that comes into his head.  “Is Ranboo… is he mad at me?  He seems… well, about as pissed off as Ranboo can be, if I’m honest.”

Niki nods, like it’s an easy truth.

“He is?”

“Yeah, it’s ‘cause he knows you leaving hurt me.”

“Oh,” Wilbur feels like a weight has just pressed down harder on his shoulders.

Niki nods amicably.  “And now you’re back.  And he thinks you have a lot to prove.”

“Yeah.  I… I think I do,” Wilbur takes another swig.

“Do you have anything to do with the…” Niki gestures vaguely to the streets below.

“The what?” He’s puzzled out of his melancholy.

“The changes.  A lot of little things.  I don’t know,” she shrugs.  “It all sort of started when you turned up, and, sorry, Wil, you…” she almost looks pitying.  “You break things.  Sometimes.”

Wilbur nods, staring out at the patchy trail of streetlights, some lit, some not.  “I break things,” he agrees softly.

“Sometimes,” Niki reminds him pointedly.

He laughs, half under his breath, “sometimes.”

“There’s something wrong, Wil.  Schlatt is dead, and I thought…” Niki frowns.  “I don’t know what I thought.  When I first found out, I was mostly worried about Tubbo, but then I… I thought it was gonna fix things.”

Wilbur once more thinks of his father, and it’s hard to resist the bitterness curdling in his stomach.  “It was bad, then?”  Quiet.  He glances over at Niki, who is looking with the same thoughtfulness out at the city.  Wilbur continues, “Schlatt, I mean.”

She glances at him, clearly measuring up how little he knows.  “It’s like I said, Wil.  You’ve been gone a long time.”

“I have,” Wilbur says like it’s an apology.  It isn’t an apology.

“Drink more.  You’re bigger than me, you need to catch up,” she presses the bottle into his hands.  He obliges.

“I didn’t want to, you know.  To leave you, to leave the city,” Wilbur knows it’s a feeble defense, but it’s all he can think to say.

She still look like she knows something, something she isn’t saying, not directly at least.  “Didn’t you?”

“I…” Wilbur feels very vulnerable.  He can’t imagine Niki knowing, knowing the whole of it, but it’s clear she understands him in a lot of ways.  Which makes sense.  Niki had once been his best friend.  “I don’t know,” is what he settles on.  It’s a safe answer, maybe too safe.

Niki sighs, sitting up, legs folded beneath her.  Wilbur offers her the bottle once more and she pushes it back.  “You first, then me.”

He takes a drink.  She follows.

“You all left, you and Phil and Techno, and… and Phil leaving was hard.  He… he sent money until I asked him to stop.  He called until I… I got too busy to pick up,” she shrugs.  “I don’t know,” she echoes his sentiment, staring down at the roof.  “Techno said goodbye.  A… a pretty good goodbye, I think.  And I was… I was mostly okay for a while.  Schlatt… Schlatt didn’t get involved until I was eighteen.  That’s when I opened the Secret City, ‘cause before I was worried if I got caught while underage it would fall back on Eret’s family, so…”

Wilbur knows it’s far from important, but on impulse he asks her, almost defensive, like a childish teen rivalry has resurfaced.  “Eret?”

“Yeah.  Her family helped look after us.  You… you can’t own a business at sixteen, Wil,” Niki says wryly.  “I mean, we were on our own, really.  Me and Ranboo.  They didn’t really interfere, it just made sure no one was like, trying to take Ranboo away from me or anything like that.”

“Oh,” Wilbur feels almost embarrassed now.  “I… I understand.  Got it.”  He takes another drink.

“You said you were coming back, Wil,” Niki says softly.

“I meant to,” he says hoarsely.  He means it.

“Okay, but when you weren’t anymore, when you didn’t,” she looks over at him, eyes too shiny.  “Why didn’t you call?  Why didn’t you… why didn’t you write?  Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

Wilbur feels like that look in her eyes, grief and broken trust and wounds still unhealed, like it might burn him up from the inside.  He can’t bring himself to look away.

“I don’t have any good answers for you.”

“Give me a bad one, then.”

"Fuck, I'm just a mess," Wilbur wipes his eyes.

"Yeah, you are," she says teasingly.  "Give me an answer."

Wilbur swallows thickly, a lump forming in his throat, finally tearing his gaze from hers to stare at the way the bottle in his hand gleams in the streetlight.  “It was supposed to be a clean break.”  He gives the wrong excuse, but it’s the only one he has.

Niki feels an ache in her chest grow sharp.  She had expected a bad answer, but that one stings, especially when she knows what festers underneath.  “Clean…” she scoffs.  A pause, Wilbur with nothing to say in his own defense, and Niki thinking.  “I was... I was okay on my own.  Really.  Schlatt wasn't a problem until I opened the Secret City and... and when he first started showing up and taking money and... and then alcohol, I didn't... I didn't know what he was gonna do to us.  I'd never... Phil kept us away from that stuff, you know?  I... I made sure they didn't know about Ranboo," Niki nods once, as if reassuring herself, proud and certain she did right by him.  "They wouldn't fucking touch him, I made sure.  I couldn't stop them from knowing he worked there, but... they didn't know he was my family.  So, that was... a bit safer?  I think?  And... I hate this," she says vehemently.  "I hate that this is the truth, but when I stopped fighting, it got easier.  I gave them the money, my supplies, whatever they asked for.  I only fought back when... when I thought it would actually sink us, and before I got brave enough to do that I had to ask Eret for help sometimes and I hated doing that, because I knew I shouldn't have had to.  Once I gave up, his men stopped coming and threatening to break things, and instead it was just Tubbo.  It felt... it felt easier that way.  I gave up so much of what we earned, and that just became normal," she says that word like it's something vulgar.  "But I did it.  I did it.  I kept everyone safe, everyone.  I looked after them all.  Homeless kids, and Schlatt's kid, and Schlatt's boyfriend, and Schlatt's boyfriend's boyfriend, and Schlatt's doctor, and... and Badlanders and ex-Badlanders, and ex-Empire kids, because... because they were gone.  You were gone.  The Empire left us, and I wasn't gonna let that hurt us.  No way.  Maybe I didn't have Phil's authority or Techno's reputation or... or anything like that.  But I kept them all safe.  All of them," she looks at Wilbur, and he is almost in awe of the fire burning behind her eyes.  Wilbur feels so sure that if Niki wanted to burn this city down, she could and she'd probably have the right to.  The fire drains out of her, and once more she looks so tired.  "The earlier years were the hardest.  The ones where I missed you the most, Wil."  Niki takes a shaky breath.  She looks away.  "When I say Schlatt was bad, I don’t say it because I think you could’ve fixed things.  Maybe if Phil had stuck around, he could’ve made it better, but that’s different.  That’s not you.”  A pause.  Wilbur almost feels like he can’t breathe.  Niki continues, “even with the bad parts of it, really I just wanted you to be there, Wil.  You were– you were supposed to be there,” Niki says it with the certainty of a girl who had been eighteen, and alone, and scared, and trying to defend herself from threats so much bigger than her, and waiting for her brother to get taken away, and all the while wishing she could cry on her best friend’s shoulder.

“I am… I am so sorry, Niki.  I don’t expect forgiveness, I don’t, I just need you to know how sorry I am.”  A strange apology for someone utterly certain his father had dragged him out of this city kicking and screaming, but maybe he’s not talking about that kind of leaving.  Maybe Niki knows that.

Niki does not forgive him.  “I believe you, Wil.”  That counts for something too.

Wilbur has felt something building in his chest for weeks, discontent forever rising as his plans never turn out quite right and he has been unable to do the one thing he came to this city for.  A lot has changed in the past months.  His discontent finally spills over.

“I came here, I came back to the city two months ago,” Wilbur stops, taking a deep breath to stop his lip from trembling.  He quickly wipes his cheek.  He doesn’t look at her.  “I came back here to kill myself.”

Niki doesn’t say a word.  She doesn’t know what she could say, but she isn't really surprised.  She takes his hand.

“N-Not here, here.  I wasn’t… I wasn’t gonna do it in your house,” Wilbur continues to spill over, a rambling defense for something he knows cannot be defended.  “I was… I had a plan, it was… it wasn’t supposed to take this long, but I had to– It had to be– Someone else has to do it,” he says forcefully.  “I wanted it to be Schlatt.  Or Schlatt’s dogs, whatever.  If not him, any gunfire would do.  I tried prodding the Badlands, I tried going down the wrong streets and… and spraying stupid graffiti on claimed territory, and none of it worked.  Closest I got was that stupid fucking car bomb, and all it did was almost kill Tommy…”

Now Niki can think of a reply, not to the matter on the whole, but to this piece of it.  “Why?”  Wilbur glances at her, burden evident at the thought of answering that sort of question, Niki corrects.  “Why… why did it have to be someone else, I mean.”

Wilbur laughs bitterly.  “It was supposed to be for Phil?  I thought… I thought it might be nice for it to mean something, so, I thought if I got myself killed in the crossfire of some petty street violence, maybe…” Wilbur trails off, as if by voicing it aloud he’d realized the childishness of his plots.  “Maybe it would make him want to change.  To do better.  Something like that,” he sighs.

“For Phil,” Niki repeats, processing.

“Yeah,” Wilbur says wearily.

“Don’t… don’t take this the wrong way, Wilbur, but… but once all that didn’t work, why didn’t you… you know, try something else?” Niki asks carefully.

Wilbur had forgotten how direct Niki could be.  “Um, well, lots of… of little reasons, I guess.”

“Little reasons?”

Wilbur huffs, almost annoyed with the idea.  “It was… it was that stupid fucking kid, alright?  It was Tommy.”

Niki smiles, almost amused.  “Tommy?”

“Not… not for lovely sentimental reasons, not at first at least, but he just… he kept showing up.  Every day, I’d be wandering around, debating between the river and a highrise, and there he’d fucking be!  Calling me a layabout and following me and hounding me until I’d decide it was worth trying a few more schemes to see if I could get myself killed that way, and even then!  Even then, he’d find a way to get in the way.  Like, I tried to get out in front of a Badlands patrol, when they were first starting to get all nervous, and this kid latches onto me like a furious fucking koala, and he won’t let me out of the alleyway without him, so I gave up that time.  And shit like that just kept happening,” Wilbur sighs, shaking his head, almost amazed.  “He just… by accident, he just kept me out of it.”

“That sounds like Tommy.”

Wilbur laughs dryly.  “Does it?”  Wilbur broods, once more returning to the thoughts that had been circling his sleepless brain earlier.  “And he’s… he needs help, right?  He obviously needs help, and needs it worse than any of us first thought, apparently, and I…” Wilbur sighs.  “And I can’t.  Okay?”

“You… you don’t think you can help him?  Wil, no one would expect that of you.”

“No, not that, and it’s not a matter of expectation, it’s–” Wilbur runs a hand through his hair, tugging at his curls as he feels like Niki and all her love for him is digging a confession out of his chest, but he wants this, he wants to tell her, because he loves her too.  “I can’t kill myself.  Not until… not until he’s better.  ‘Cause I… I almost forgot about Ranbus.”

“You… what do you mean you almost forgot Ranboo?” Now Niki is properly confused.

“Not Ranboo– Ranbus.  I… I said it so effortlessly, I didn’t even think about it, but before tonight, I almost forgot what I called that kid, that I… I was something to him,” Wilbur sighs.

“You still are something to him.”

Wilbur smiles weakly, grateful for her kindness even if he doesn’t think he deserves it.  “Maybe.  I… you’re good to him, Niki.  You were still a kid yourself, and you took care of him.  He’s lucky, and I think he knows how lucky he is, to have you for a big sister, and…” Wilbur trails off, words coming together slowly.  “And Tommy’s not lucky.  In more than one way, because he had no one, and instead of someone like you, Niki, he gets stuck with me instead,” Wilbur laughs.  “So, I can’t kill myself.  Because he needs… he needs someone.  That’s all.”

Niki scoots closer, resting her head on his shoulder.  “I’m sorry, Wilbur.  For… for a lot of things you’ve had to go through, but I’m really glad you’re here now.  And I’m really glad you’re not going anywhere.”

Wilbur takes a shaky breath, no longer trying to ward off tears or the tremor in his voice.  “Thanks, Niki.”

“Maybe Tommy isn’t as lucky as Ranboo, but he’s still lucky to have you.”

Wilbur nods.  “Thank you.  For a lot of things, but Niki,” Wilbur looks over at her, looking her in the eye for once without fear or guilt or shame.  “Thank you for being my best friend.”

Niki smiles, reaching out to mess up his hair.  “You’re welcome.  Thank you for… for trying to bring my best friend back.”

Wilbur understands.  “I’ll be him again.  I promise.”

Niki gets to her feet, unsteady and offering him a hand off the ground.  “I’ll hold you to that, Wilbur Soot.  Don’t think I won’t.”

[karinasbaby]

people really defending with "oh he's dancing in a provocative way"

....are.. are they dancers themselves? i've seen one dancer say that they would do the vogue or tutting no matter if it looks "gay". it's dance, their passion. to that dancer there was no issue in the genre, there might be dancers who might stick to specific styles but it's still dance, something they want to do.

how do those defenders know what someone is thinking like "oh if he didn't wanna be sexualized then he should've danced kid-friendly dances" like?? they're missing the whole point

my dearest anon you’re so so right !! using his dancing & choreography as an excuse to sexualise him knowing well that the members don’t have 100% control over their choreographies is just plain weird. like they’re kpop idols. they’re supposed to dance and sing on stage and you’re using his job and profession as an excuse to sexualise him?? it’s just so disgusting and weird like pls go outside and touch some grass get a life PLEASE 🙏🏼

and literally what do they mean kid friendly dances what the hell 😭 just because he isn’t an adult doesn’t mean he should do “kid-friendly dances” he can dance however he wants. you’re the one that’s sexualising him because of his dancing which is creepy because it’s literal DANCING. just admit it you’re mad weird and creepy and go fix yourself please.

[snixx]

you're the one i think to call (how do i feel lucky and appalled at the same time)

[elytrafemme]

🌹

hi hi

-

“Did you feel better?” Ranboo says before he can stop himself. His heart is racing in his chest, up his throat. His hands are tensed around the ice pack. “When you stopped?”

“Not at first,” Niki says, a small, rueful smile across her face. “At first, I felt even worse. I wasn’t God, I wasn’t evil, I wasn’t good. I was just nothing. I was nothing, and everyone hated me, and I thought so many times, maybe this won’t change anything. Maybe I will always be like this.”

There’s a pause for a few seconds, where the room falls into complete and utter silence.

And then Ranboo breaks.

[stay-moa-army]

Using these banners and dividers I made ill be posting a series hint and spoiler! There will be other members I just haven't got to make them yet. If you would like me to custom make you banners and dividers, just ask and I'll try to get them done within a reasonable time <3

I'm sorry for not posting the imagine I've been very busy with exams recently and they've impeded my writing but I'll be back as soon as possible to bring you only the best content!

[chuuyrr]

GUESS WHO'S OFFICIALLY DONE WITH EXAMS AND NO LONGER ON HIATUS !!

[babieken]

I was expecting so much more from Again My Life considering lee jungi was its main character but it was such a let down...

[rnjfy]

he makes you insecure

Yoongi x f!reader

Genre: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort

WC: 3.5k

<series masterlist>

taglist: @awinkies @wedarkacademia @yiyi4657 @astralandcosmos @scuzmunkie @mooonlitstars @manchuria @joondiary @ygimsgw @royallyjjk @yoongititss @mwitsmejk @kitty-kair @blissedjoon @vrittivsanghavi @kimahnjung98​

tw: unhealthy eating habits, bad body image

nothing too detailed but just bc this can be a very sensitive topic to some!! that being said, im not trying to romanticize unhealthy eating habits or anything like that. as someone who has struggled with these things, fics like these hit a little close to home. but that’s what makes them all the more comforting to me and i hope this fic will have the same effect for anyone that also may also relate. plz be kind to yourself and your body, it’s beautiful and does so much for u!! lots of love, take care 💜💜

Coming off the stage, the soreness of Yoongi’s shoulder becomes harder to ignore as the high of finishing yet another successful concert starts to wear off. After the long hours of practice and leaving it all on the stage, it all seems to catch up to him all at once as he keeps his head down to hide his grimace.

As soon as Yoongi steps foot backstage, he’s immediately knocked back a few steps as you run into his chest. “You were amazing!” you breathe out as you wrap your arms around his neck, engulfing him in a warm hug. Wrapping his good arm around your waist and hiding his face in the crook of your neck, Yoongi grits his teeth and breathes in your comforting scent to help him bear the pain.

Keep reading

[shuaflix]

kim mingyu’s (unhelpful) guide to losing your virginity

❝ you’re telling me that you, Miss Dick Repellent, had sex with Captain Chastity By Choice over here. ❞

PAIRING ▸ kim mingyu x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, humor, college au, best friends to lovers au, friends with benefits au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, alcohol consumption, rated m for mingyu, slow burn, he fell first but she fell harder but then he tripped and ate shit, probably the most self-indulgent thing i’ve written, mingyu and mc are both virgins, sexual content, sexual tension, protected and unprotected sex (i would not advise doing the latter), lots of teasing and banter, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering, wall sex, couch sex, public sex, mingyu discovers what pasties are, soonyoung orders 20 connect fours, they are avid enjoyers of the barbie movies

SUMMARY ▸ after accidentally telling your friends that kim mingyu took your virginity (he didn't), you’re shocked when he proposes to relieve you of the fabled v-card for good (he does).

PLAYLIST ▸ perfect by one direction • spell by niki • fatal flaw by ellise • give me a kiss by lolo zouaï • step? by bibi

WORD COUNT ▸ 31,273 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ someone (fia) once told me i write too many college aus. i said yeah ur right. and i’m gonna do it again

“BIRDS AND BEES CANNOT PHYSICALLY FUCK.”

You sounded more distressed than informative while you were trying to reason with your longtime best friend, Kim Mingyu. He, on the other hand, appeared visibly worked up over this childish level of argument you two were having.

“It is a metaphor,” he said. “Everyone knows birds and bees aren’t screwing each other up in the trees.”

You still couldn’t wrap your head around it. Hours ago, you had fucked yourself over after Kwon Soonyoung had casually brought up the topic of body counts. After everyone in your friend group went around listing theirs (Soonyoung: 3; Jungwoo: 3; Minghao: 2; Vernon: 5), you accidentally blurted out that your body count actually existed—one, to be exact.

This was a problem because, to everyone’s prior knowledge, you were a virgin.

Sure, you kissed a few guys before—maybe had a few heated makeout sessions—but you never really went all the way. Yeah, Mark Lee was coming onto you freshman year, but before he could start sliding his hand down your pants, you nearly screamed and killed the vibe. It was safe to say that Mark never thought about trying to get with you again.

After being barraged with questions about who finally claimed your v-card, you decided to blurt out the one name that felt the safest to you.

And that was Kim Mingyu.

Now, you and Mingyu had been friends for a long time, dating back to your freshman year of college when he wound up being your dorm neighbor. After about a month of Mingyu only knocking on your door to use your printer or air fryer, your relationship finally upgraded to having semi-deep conversations and going to the dining hall together. Eventually, Kim Mingyu became a staple in your life—or perhaps more like a pesky gnat you couldn’t get rid of.

Either way, since you figured that Mingyu was equally as sexually inexperienced as you were, you felt as though your safest bet was to keep your secret with him. This way, the both of you could finally not be labeled as the friend group’s token virgins.

To make matters worse, though, you didn’t expect your friends to have such a dramatic reaction to the news. They were convinced that you and Mingyu were going at it every night. In reality, he was only coming over to your apartment at the dead of night because his fridge had been broken since September. You made a pact with him that you two would take turns cooking every other day, and today was his turn.

(You secretly looked forward to the days when he would cook. Mingyu’s culinary skills were surprisingly top-notch. You were pretty sure his flavor palate was 250% more refined than the average human, considering he could tell apart regular butter from I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.)

So, while Mingyu was frying salmon, you were bombarding him with questions about sex. After all, if you were now living your life as a self-proclaimed non-virgin, then you had to educate yourself on the birds and the bees.

That was where the argument arose because what the fuck did the birds and the bees have to do with anything?

“So why do they use the birds and the bees?” you asked. “Why don’t they use, like, the butterflies and the bees? You know, pollination? I feel like that makes more sense.”

“It’s ‘cause birds hatch eggs, which is supposed to symbolize, like, female ovulation,” Mingyu explained, “and bees pollinating flowers is for male fertilization.”

You leaned back in your seat, absolutely mind-blown. Mingyu took your silence as understanding and turned on you, pointing his large cooking tongs in your direction.

“You’re way too innocent to be telling everyone we slept together,” he said. “I’d start watching porn or something, ‘cause asking me about the symbolism of the birds and bees isn’t gonna cut it. That’s middle school behavior, Y/N.”

Your cheeks heated up with embarrassment. “I’m not innocent! I know how sex works; I just don’t understand how you like… you know, do the deed.”

Mingyu snorted. “You can’t even say it properly!”

“Can to!” you fired back before folding your arms across your chest. “I just choose not to because of my Miranda Rights. You know, my right to remain silent and all that.”

“I don’t think that applies here.”

“It can.”

“Yeah, okay. But not when Soonyoung asked about your body count?”

“You’re not still upset about me telling the group we slept together, right? I swear it was a total—”

“Of course I’m upset, Y/N,” he interjected. “I wanted my first time to be my first time, and you just told everyone we fucked like it was nothing.”

Yeah, it was safe to say that the tension between you and Mingyu had been growing for a while. You two still hung out as usual, but he would sometimes drop passive-aggressive comments about your fuck-up that would make you feel miserable for the rest of the day. There wasn’t anything you could do but apologize, especially when Mingyu insisted that you two keep up the farce so that your friends wouldn’t get on your back for being a liar.

You could tell he cared—deep, deep down—about how this would affect you. Honestly, he was too good for you.

“Anyway, we can’t do anything about it now, so let’s drop it.” He sighed, and the only sounds you could hear for a moment were the fan running and the salmon sizzling on the pan. You waited until Mingyu started plating the food. “Dinner’s ready.”

For a few minutes, you two ate in utter silence. The only sounds in the room were the occasional scraping noises of fork against plate.

Mingyu decided to speak up. “I submitted one of the pictures I took to an art gallery.”

“Oh, really? The sunset ones you took when you went camping with Jungwoo?” you asked.

“Yeah, a few of the ones I developed looked really good, so he suggested I try sending them in. They haven’t reached out yet, but I’m hoping they put it up for their exhibition.”

“That’s sick. I’ll go see it with you if they put your work up.”

You two relapsed into silence after Mingyu hummed appreciatively. He was back to chewing his thoughts away while you wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

“I fucked up, Gyu,” you admitted. “I really fucked up. I’m sorry.”

He smiled one of those lopsided, easygoing grins that could put anyone at ease. Yet, you still felt disheartened that he knew exactly what you were referring to.

“It’s whatever. At least you saved us from being asked if we’re still virgins.”

“I feel like I’m living a lie,” you grumbled. “It’s been eating at me for the past week. I might just fess up to Soonyoung.”

“You do know he’s gonna get mad at you for lying about something so petty.”

“But it’s even worse if he finds out later on!”

Mingyu just hummed in response, brows knitted together like he was pondering over something.

“Yeah, I guess,” was all he said, ending the discourse as he set your plate of food down in front of you on the dining table. You poked at the delectable salmon with your fork. “Don’t worry about what Soonyoung thinks. Sex isn’t something you can just jump into if you’re not ready.”

“But I am ready,” you complained between mouthfuls of food. “Every time I’m in the mood, I get so close and then chicken out. Maybe I’m just not doing it with the right person.”

“That would also be an important factor.”

You shook your head to dismiss the topic. “Whatever. Maybe they won’t bother us about it now that they think the deed’s done.”

“Maybe,” Mingyu echoed, although clear uncertainty hung in those syllables.

Once, in high school, you lied to your P.E. teacher about being on your period so that you wouldn’t have to participate in swimming for a week. On another occasion, you lied to your parents about going to your friend’s house to work on a group project so that you could actually drink alcohol for the first time.

Lying to Kwon Soonyoung was a whole other realm of difficulty.

It had been less than a day since you and Mingyu brushed off your lie that blew out of proportion. You were stupid to think that it wouldn’t haunt you further because Minghao wore a simpering smile on his face as soon as he saw you and Mingyu walk into the library together.

As soon as you two took your seats at your friend group’s respective table, Soonyoung and Jungwoo immediately started hounding you with more questions. Mingyu was clearly irritated—whether that was because he didn’t want the topic brought up again or he didn’t appreciate Soonyoung getting distracted from their little app developing session, you had no idea. They must have been excited now that they had both of their targets to harass.

“You are never willing to put out,” your bewildered friend rambled, “and you’re telling me that you, Miss Dick Repellent, had sex with Captain Chastity By Choice over here.”

“Wow,” Mingyu spoke up. “That was, like, the worst possible way to phrase that.”

You frowned. “Dick repellent?”

“C’mon, everyone here knows about the whole Mark-gate incident.”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, whatever went down between Mingyu and I just… happened. I have nothing else to say on the matter.”

“You know what just happens?” Vernon Chwe, who normally kept his two cents to himself, decided to blurt out. “Losing your passport. That’s the kind of thing that just happens.” The sour tone his voice took on indicated that he was still bitter about showing up at the airport with Boo Seungkwan for his Italy trip last summer without his passport. “But sex? That doesn’t just happen. It’s a process.”

“Unless you were under the influence,” Minghao added. Then, he turned to you and Mingyu with curious eyes. “Were you drunk? High? Coked out?”

Obviously, you and Mingyu weren’t smart enough to cover all the bases of your lie, so neither of you planned out a story beforehand. Taken by surprise, he ended up stuttering, “N-no?”

“So it didn’t just happen,” Jungwoo said with a grin. “You two knew what you were doing.”

“I think you guys are making this way deeper than it actually is,” you replied. “We were just horny and things ended up going that way. That’s all there is to it.”

Minghao snickered. “I don’t believe that for one second.”

“Well, you should,” you started, voice rising along with your temper, “because Mingyu’s hot, and it’s perfectly normal for a young woman to want to have sex with someone who looks like a walking wet dream!”

Your table fell silent, and you suddenly wished you had dramatically stormed away after your (loud) confession. There was nothing subtle about the judgment and concern in everyone’s eyes, but most importantly, you were horrified to see Mingyu’s equally horrified reaction to your outburst.

“Walking wet dream,” Soonyoung parroted in a quieter voice, amusement tugging at his lips. “I’m gonna make that his contact name now.”

Jungwoo shrugged. “Well, I guess it checks out. Mingyu did say he found Y/N cute for a while.”

Your cheeks burned. He found you cute?

Mingyu, who was now blushing tomato red, covered his face with his hands and groaned. If you weren’t so mortified about embarrassing yourself and Mingyu in front of your entire friend group earlier, then you might have found him a little adorable.

So, you fucked up. Again.

You played out your conversation with your friends about five different times, thinking of various outcomes that could have taken place instead. If you didn’t blurt out the first thing that came to your head on impulse, then maybe you wouldn’t have dug a deeper hole for yourself.

Plus, you had to deal with Mingyu now.

Jungwoo’s words kept parroting in your head like a broken record. Cute. What did that mean, anyway? Squirrels were cute, and you were hoping you had enough sex appeal to not be put on the same tier as squirrels.

Of course, you ended up leaving the library after mumbling some excuse about having to attend a professor’s office hours. Although that was a complete lie, your friends seemed to buy it. You thought you were off the hook until you received a text from your friend.

mingyu: can we talk later?

You didn’t know what to think. If this lie of yours ended up breaking your friendship with Mingyu for good, you weren’t sure if you would ever be able to forgive yourself. So, you settled for curling up on your couch and spooning ice cream into your mouth until the pain subsided.

It was nearly midnight when the knock came at your door.

When you opened it, the very man you didn’t want to see was standing big and tall. You were tempted to close the door on Mingyu, but there was no point in pushing him away even more.

“I forgot to reply to your text,” you said.

“I know.” Mingyu looked you up and down, which you couldn’t help but blush at, but you figured he was just eyeing your Hello Kitty pajamas. “Can I come in?”

You opened the door wider, allowing him to step inside. “Are you here to yell at me?”

“No, although I should after what you pulled,” he teased, and you were grateful that he sounded lighthearted again. The tension was still thick, though, and you were certain it was because of the indirect confessions of attraction you both let slip. “I’m here to make a proposal.”

“What is it?”

Mingyu shrugged off his jacket, revealing his toned, muscular arms. You wondered just how much work he put into bulking up at the gym, and then your thoughts started to drift elsewhere. Thinking about how buff his chest was, thinking about how broad his shoulders were, thinking about how—

“A solution to both of our problems,” Mingyu interrupted your thoughts as he took a seat on your couch. He pointed at the bowl of ice cream you left on a cushion. “Is this cookies and cream?”

“Yeah, you can have some.” You took a seat next to him and inquired, “So… explain.”

“Okay, uh, well…” He trailed off, trying some of the ice cream after fiddling with the spoon for minutes. “Hey, this is really good ice cream.”

You gently pushed his spoon down before he could scoop more into his mouth. “Gyu, get to the point already.”

“I never noticed your coffee table was such a nice shade of brown.”

“Mingyu.”

“Could this be mahogany?”

“Mingyu.”

“Alright, alright.” He sighed, turning his head down ever-so-slightly. You were a little terrified that he was going to go on a spiel about ending the friendship, but then he said, “We’re both in predicaments. Our friends won’t leave us alone about the sex thing and you’re still heated about being a virgin. I mean, I’m also tired of my partner being my right hand, so like…”

Oh god. Mingyu was going to ask you to have sex. Kim Mingyu was about to get in your pants right now.

And were you against it? Not at all. The only thing that worried you was that you weren’t sure if you were ready—for sex and potentially blurring the lines of friendship between you and Mingyu.

“So, what are you getting at?” you asked, trying to play off your unnaturally high-pitched voice with a cough.

“Well, after that uncomfortable conversation earlier, I was just thinking… I clearly find you attractive and you find me attractive,” he said, and when he ducked his head a little, you could see the tips of his ears flaming red. “I’m saying I’m down for you to be my first.”

You willed yourself not to stammer over your words as you said, “I thought you wanted your first time to be special.”

“I do,” he mumbled. “That’s why I started thinking about it seriously after you called me a—”

“You don’t have to repeat it,” you cut him off quickly, your face feeling hot again. “But yeah, I’ve always thought you were hot—um, objectively. I didn’t think you thought the same about me, though.”

“Yeah, I do,” he replied shyly, “but I also know you’ve tried to have sex multiple times and back out whenever you get close.” Before you could respond, Mingyu pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and set it down between you two. “That’s why I made this.”

You eyed the paper curiously, glancing at Mingyu for his approval to go ahead and open it. When he gestured for you to do so, you picked it up and unfolded it.

(EX) VIRGIN CONTRACT

Both parties may request whatever they want to try

Either party may approve or deny the other’s request

The contract ends at either party’s request

The friendship must not be ruined, and if the friendship is ever in danger of being ruined, the contract will be terminated.

“I figured it would be less intimidating with you since we both have no idea what’s going on,” Mingyu continued. “This way we can explore whatever we want without judgment.”

(Mingyu would never admit it to you, but part of him was eager to see you underneath him with that shy expression of yours melting away into pure, unadulterated lust. And you would never admit that you wouldn’t exactly hate that.)

“I’m not gonna lie,” you started, “I think we would be bullied even more for this.”

“That’s the unspoken rule number five,” he explained. “We keep whatever this is between ourselves. I know you struggle in that area, but—”

“Oh, shut up.” You couldn’t help but giggle as you set the paper down. “I don’t know…”

“Take your time to think it over.”

“Actually, I’ve made up my mind. Let’s do it.”

Mingyu did a double take, his features curiously pulling together. “Um, I meant that you could take a few days. Not milliseconds.”

There was a reason as to why you caved quickly. Your thoughts had been running at a billion miles per hour for the entirety of your conversation with Mingyu. You were confident that your decision was well-calculated.

Did you want to fuck Mingyu? Yes.

Were you terrified of possibly ruining your friendship? Absolutely.

However, considering the conversation had already happened, the course of your friendship had drastically changed already. The only thing even more potentially damaging than bringing physical intimacy into the relationship was rejecting this offer. If you turned Mingyu down now, your interactions with him would soon fizzle into awkward, cordial small talk.

“Hey, I think it’d be fun,” you decided to say instead of giving him the rundown of your internal crisis.

“Really? You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t agree to it if I wasn’t. I mean, it’s a big proposal.”

He gave you one of his lopsided smiles. “Right. I didn’t wanna rush into it or anything, but I think we should talk about it more when you’re ready.” Mingyu picked up the remote and handed it to you. “So, wanna get back to our Barbie marathon? We’re on Fairytopia, right?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, taking the remote from him with a touch of disappointment settling into your bones. Part of you was hoping he would get to it right away. “Yeah, we can talk about it later.”

You two did not talk about it.

It had been approximately six days and Mingyu had not reached out once about your contract. You were starting to think that you should have added some sort of clause about response time because the silence was killing you.

The next time you saw him was at a Kappa Sigma party. Soonyoung and Jungwoo always extended an invite to you, which was nice because that meant you could walk right in without being checked out and approved by some frat brother. You would normally drag Shin Ryujin along with you, but she insisted that she wouldn’t be able to wake up for her midterm if she went out to drink. Thus, you figured you wouldn’t show up, but after seeing Mingyu in the background of Minghao’s Snapchat story (which was a video of Vernon snorting a line off some girl’s stomach), you got your ass out of bed and threw your sluttiest top on.

Thirty minutes later, there you were, listening to Lee Chan ramble inside of the Kappa Sigma house. Ten feet from your target: Kim Mingyu.

“I got scammed, Y/N,” the frat brother, who was deep in five beers and four vodka shots, ranted to you while occasionally slurring his words. “Soonyoung ropes me into joining for friends, but I already knew all the people in the frat, anyway!” He paused to take another swig of his beer. “Zero benefits! Zero!”

Although you enjoyed Chan’s company, you were really trying to get Mingyu’s attention. Since walking in and waiting for him to approach you didn’t work, you were going to have to march up to him directly. Unfortunately, the drunk freshman in front of you was not helping one bit.

“That blows,” you replied sympathetically, “but at least you get to party, and you don’t have to worry about finding housing.”

Chan scoffed. “Yeah, if I’m not a sober monitor, then I just get alcohol poisoning. I can never win.”

For the next thirty minutes, you ended up listening to Chan drone on about how the world was against him. Eventually, he started to realize that he didn’t have it all that bad, and then he passed out after you helped him to the couch. You gave up on trying to get Mingyu’s attention; all of your attempts had been in vain, and you didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

After talking to Vernon briefly, though, you found the opportunity to strike. Jungwoo announced a game of rage cage, so you were going to expertly place yourself next to Mingyu. Since everyone else would be focused on the game, you would use that chance to invite him to talk privately later.

Your plan was going smoothly until you stood next to Mingyu and realized he was a shot away from blacking out.

“You look like you’ve been through the trenches and back,” you said.

“Can’t tell where the floor is.”

“Under your feet.”

“Wow, you’re right.”

He was most definitely not in the right headspace to have a conversation about the contract—or to have any conversation, really.

“I’ve been wondering if you’d show up,” he continued. “I wanted to see you.”

Curse your heart for fluttering pathetically.

“You did?” you asked.

There was no time for Mingyu to respond because everyone around the table started screaming at you. When you turned your attention back to the game, you realized the red solo cup was in front of you and Vernon was about to stack you.

“Careful, Y/N, Vernon’s been on a roll,” Minghao taunted, eyes lit up with amusement as he watched you fumble with the ping pong ball.

“I have,” Vernon confirmed. From across the table, he smirked at Joshua Hong, who you figured was his victim from the last game.  

Your lips curled up in a lazy grin. “Yeah? Let’s see if you can stack me even once.”

So, you lost. Miserably.

Vernon was on a roll, and you formally apologized for ever doubting him. (You apologized after getting stacked for a third time, but Vernon didn’t ease up on you. He was a ruthless killing machine.)

On top of the six times you got stacked, you also ended up being the unfortunate bitch cup receiver. You downed it without too many complaints; you were past the point of scowling through your drinks. It would have been less pathetic if you hadn’t talked yourself up so much.

On the bright side, you and Mingyu had gotten so drunk that Soonyoung ushered you two into his room to sober up. Since Chan had already thrown up on the couch, your friend decided that it was better to make sure you were in close proximity to a toilet.

Soonyoung instructed, “Remember, if you feel like throwing up, make sure you go to the—oh my god, Chan, keep your clothes on!”

He groaned and slammed the door shut so that he could chase after his intoxicated friend. You were just thankful that you weren’t that drunk. The room was starting to spin, however, so you were dreading waking up with a headache in the morning.

“You were terrible today,” Mingyu mumbled. His shoulder brushed against yours, and you ended up leaning against him. “But I’m glad you sucked ass.”

Your lips curled in distaste. “What the hell?”

“I only got stacked once thanks to your god-awful performance.” He let his head hang so that he could suck in a sharp breath. “Wow, I feel like shit.”

“You’re such a bitch,” you complained. “I was gonna ask you something serious, too!”

“Oh, really? What is it?”

“Well, I’m not gonna tell you now!”

You almost stammered at the end of your sentence when you saw Mingyu’s puppy eyes on full display. Despite the pleading look on his face, you couldn’t help but notice the way the stray rays of sunlight that poured into Soonyoung’s room were catching onto Mingyu’s honeyed skin. It made his dark brown eyes look like melted amber.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol making you feel hot or if the humidity was created by the drunk college students packed into the house like sardines, but Soonyoung’s room felt balmy. Your shirt clung to the sweat beading your back, but all you could think about was how close you and Mingyu were.

It seemed as though he was thinking the same thing. “We should open a window or something.”

“It’s so hot,” you whined. “Feels like a sauna in here.”

“I know. Soonyoung never opens the windows, even though there’s no air conditioning in here.”

“He should invest in a fan.”

“Yeah, that’s why I like your place. You have a nice cooling system.”

You laughed. Mostly because you had very different intentions for this conversation, and here Mingyu was, talking about your air conditioning.

You were sobering up, but you still felt drunk off Mingyu’s attention.

Like he was sharing a secret, your best friend leaned in close to your ear while trying to suppress a giggle. “Should we get out of here?”

“And go where?”

“Your place. Duh.”

“I don’t know if I can even walk downstairs,” you mumbled, suddenly afraid that he was going to think you were a bore.

“I can,” Mingyu said, and before you knew it, he was kneeling down with his back facing you and his arms reaching back. You just stared at him for a moment before he shot you back a questioning look. “What’re you waiting for? Get on.”

You sort of let your body fall against his, but Mingyu helped you regain your balance almost immediately. He gripped your thighs firmly while you looped your arms around his neck. When he stood up, you almost gasped upon realizing how high up you were. It was in that moment when you were suddenly hyper-aware of how massive he was, how strong his back muscles were, and—

He yelped. “Bug!”

—how this man was terrified of everything under the sun.

If you had Mingyu’s height, you wouldn’t let anything stop you. But here he was, cowering even as he towered over the tiny spider that was crawling across the floor.

“You have got to be kidding,” you deadpanned. “You can so easily step over it.”

“They jump.”

“Name one instance where a spider’s ever jumped on you.”

He stiffened. “Uh, never. But that’s because I avoid them at all costs.”

Eventually, with some persuasion and promises of ice cream at home, Mingyu did manage to step over the beast, which was a common house spider. Kim Mingyu struck gold in the gene pool lottery. It was only fair that he had some stupid-sounding fatal flaw.

You whispered instructions on how to sneak past the crowd and giggled into his ear while he tried to creep downstairs and walk out the front door. Thankfully, the house was so packed that hardly anyone noticed you and Mingyu leaving. Only a few guys outside greeted him, but they were simultaneously puking their guts out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to the party?” you asked as your chin rested on his shoulder. You were genuinely curious because Mingyu always invited you if there was a party. “I only found out when I saw Minghao’s story.”

“Uh… I was about to text you, but then Soonyoung wouldn’t shut up with the teasing and I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable if you showed up,” he admitted, and, from where you were, you could see the tip of his ear turning pink. “But I was hoping you’d come on your own.”

You tightened your grip on him. “I wouldn’t have felt uncomfortable.”

There was silence for a while between you two, and you felt like the balmy night air was thick with undiscussed feelings. A topic that you and Mingyu were mindful about skirting around, even when the aftereffects of liquid confidence still coursed through your blood. You could hardly even realize it yourself.

Your chin rested on his shoulder. Mingyu had given you piggyback rides before—back when you two were freshmen and still a little shy around each other. The first time was when you ended up twisting your ankle during a Halloweekend party, resulting in Mingyu offering to carry you back to your dorm. You hadn’t had many guy friends before college, so the thought of casual physical contact with a man was strange to you back then.

Everything slowly started to feel natural between you and Mingyu. Now, it was as if someone took a hammer and smashed your perception to pieces. The air was suddenly stifling and you were overly-conscious about how Mingyu’s chest swelled whenever you adjusted your hold on him.

He set you down once he reached the front door of your building. You had mostly sobered up by now, though you were certain you would lose your footing if you took the stairs instead of the elevator.

By the time you two had reached your door, you were already going off on some tangent about how you technically had more sexual experience than Mingyu, despite your total confusion over the actual mechanics of intercourse.

He kicked off his shoes before walking into your living room. “I think you’re underestimating me. Just because I’m saving my first time doesn’t mean I have zero experience whatsoever.”

“Saving it for me,” you teased.

“God,” Mingyu hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if your words were truly headache-inducing (but it was mostly to hide his blush). “I never should’ve told you that.”

“Hey, you can’t take it back now.” A giggle bubbled from your lips. “You think I’m cute.”

“I didn’t say cute.”

“I’m repeating exactly what Jungwoo told me.”

“No, he downplayed it for you. I told him”—Mingyu had turned to you fully, placing his hands on your shoulders and letting them slide down to your forearms—“that you’re…” It was as if he snapped out of some sort of trance, shaking his head to stop himself from rambling. “Never mind. Forget what I said.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, pushing at his chest. Hard. “You can’t just say that and back out!”

He winced, shooting you those puppy dog eyes that always made you melt. “I’ll tell you one day.”

“And that day better be today, ‘cause—”

“One day,” he repeated. “It’s too late now. We have a busy day tomorrow.” Mingyu squeezed your forearms gently before letting go and fishing out his phone and keys from his pockets. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Whoa, hold on. What do we have tomorrow?”

The corner of his lip raised in amusement, nearly going unnoticed. “We have that contract to get to, don’t we?”

Obviously, you weren’t able to get any sleep when Mingyu’s words kept sending butterflies to your stomach.

It took an hour of tossing and turning for you to finally get some sleep. That smirk of his kept replaying in your head, flashing behind your eyes over and over again until you forced yourself to blink the image away.

When you woke up in the morning, it was because Mingyu gently tapped your shoulder until you stirred. Since it was a Saturday, you were hoping to sleep in, although the sunlight making Mingyu’s tanned skin glow under its rays was a pleasant sight to wake to.

He grinned, flashing his brilliant white teeth. “Morning.”

“Good morning.” You yawned. “Was the couch comfy?”

“Yeah, I fucking love your couch,” he said, “but it did get a little lonely out there.”

Your chest seized for a moment. Was that an invitation? Or was he suggesting that you could have joined him? Not to mention you could detect the faintest trace of longing in his eyes.

It was too early in the morning for you to think straight, though, so all you could do was that breathy laugh of yours—the one that always sounded frazzled and nervous. Laugh and change the topic.

“So, why’re you up so early?”

“I gotta meet up with Jeonghan real quick, but I’ll drop by later,” he explained. “Forgot I agreed to go to the gym today.”

You remembered Jeonghan—the cute senior from Kappa Sigma that always brought a different girl to their parties. You had spoken to him once or twice after Soonyoung introduced you. It was all small talk, though, nothing of significance. The only distinct memory you had of Jeonghan was how Soonyoung sent him home in an Uber during one party he was blacking out at last year only for Jeonghan to take that Uber right back to the party.

“Alright,” you mumbled, voice still thick with sleep. “You can take the spare key.”

“Say less.”

After Mingyu left and you stretched in your bed for a while, your phone went off with several texts from Minghao. Some of them were from last night, but you had passed out by the time he started sending them.

hao: dude where are you hao: AND WHERE’S MINGYU hao: we’re about to uber back soon hao: soonyoung said he left u guys in his room and now ur both missing?? hao: wait jk i forgot i have ur locations hao: BRUH hao: oh my god hao: u gmfu hao: psa i will be extremely annoying until you spill everything

hao: GOOD MORNING hao: RISE AND SHINE hao: now spill

y/n: good morning. y/n: dot dot dot

hao: bitch hao: i'm onto you

y/n: 😀 y/n: wanna get breakfast? y/n: we can go to that new açai bowl place that opened up near campus y/n: i can spill then

hao: sure i’ll pick you up in 10

The açai bowl place was unfortunately mediocre.

You were not impressed with the range of toppings and neither was Minghao. You two ended up settling for your regular orders with several inclusions left out. To top it off, the bowls were insanely overpriced, leaving you and Minghao thoroughly unsatisfied.

You sat at one of the tables with him, scooping granola into your mouth as you listened to him talk about his experience at the party. Apparently, Vernon started to black out as soon as they made him do a keg stand, so Minghao and Jungwoo took the liberty of taking him home and tucking him in bed. Soonyoung was scrambling around the house because the party had gotten so out-of-hand that one of the neighbors called the cops on them.

You ended up explaining how you and Mingyu ended up going home, fighting down the heat spreading across your face whenever Minghao would shoot you a knowing look. It was as if he was saying, Oh, man, you two are practically already dating.

“Yeah, and about that,” he started and cleared his throat, “you two are still virgins, right?”

Your jaw went slack for a moment, and all you could do was stare at your friend until he let out a questioning hum.

“What?” Minghao continued. “Okay, I haven’t told the others about what I noticed or anything. I just picked up on it last night.”

You frowned before asking, “You picked up on… my v-card?”

“No.” He scoffed. “I picked up on the way you and Mingyu were acting around each other. If you guys actually had sex, there’s no reason for you to act all shy whenever Mingyu comes near you. So, I concluded that either you two haven’t fucked or you caught feelings for him.”

You swallowed hard. For the most part, Minghao had pieced it together perfectly, but you were unsure about his last presumption.

First of all, you had zero idea that you were acting shy in front of Mingyu last night. Sure, there were moments where you felt like your heart dropped to your stomach, but you didn’t think it was noticeable enough for other people to pick up on it.

Second of all, you were pretty sure you were just caught up in the excitement of potentially having sex with Mingyu. Minghao was probably mistaking your anticipation for an emotion too complex for you to feel for your best friend.

Lastly, he caught your virgin self red-handed. Since you still hadn’t established a proper story with Mingyu yet, there was no way you could defend yourself now. Not when you were blanking on excuses.

“H-huh?”

“You were still acting like Little Miss I’ve Never Felt The Touch Of A Man, is what I’m saying.”

You frowned. Okay, rude.

“Fine. You got me,” you replied, sighing in defeat. “We’re both still virgins. I really fucked up when I started running my mouth in front of you guys.”

Minghao almost seemed alarmed for a moment, but his expression relaxed. Slowly, his smile tugged into a proper laugh. It wasn’t enough to wipe the mortified expression off your face, though; in fact, you felt even more humiliated.

“I knew it,” he said. “I knew there was something fishy about your story!”

“Please don’t tell the others,” you begged. “Soonyoung’s gonna hate me if he finds out I lied to him.”

Kwon Soonyoung was especially sensitive about lying. Most people were, of course, but Soonyoung prioritized trust in his relationships, whether they were platonic or romantic. Once, when he found out his ex-girlfriend lied about where she would go on Friday nights, he broke up with her a week later.

You weren’t sure how he would react to your lie, but you weren’t enthusiastic about finding out.

“You’re gonna tell him eventually, though, right?”

You sighed. “I know I have to eventually. I just have to find the right timing. Things got complicated between Mingyu and I, so I’m trying to figure that out first.”

Minghao took a sip from his Coca-Cola. “What happened between you and Mingyu?”

You swallowed down a mouthful of açai and granola before explaining, “So, basically, to clear up the lie about Mingyu and I, we’ve decided to lose our virginities to each other.”

“You’re losing your virginity… to cover up a lie?”

“No! I mean, technically yes, but, like, I just think—”

“Listen,” he interrupted. “I know you’re terrible at math, but let’s put two and two together here.” Despite the offense drawn across your face, he continued, “Mingyu’s been saving himself for that ‘special someone,’ so obviously, he wouldn’t just lose his virginity to anyone.”

“You’re saying he’s gonna back out?”

“I’m saying—” Minghao cut himself off and a smile spread across his face. “You know what, I’m gonna let you figure that out for yourself. My work here is officially done.”

“What?! You can’t just say that and give me no context!”

He folded his arms across his chest. “Vernon told me not to meddle, so I’m going to keep my mouth shut until you see it for yourself.”

“See what for myself?” you asked with an exasperated sigh.

“You’ll see.”

When you got home, Mingyu was already in your house with a large whiteboard in the center of your living room. Before you even opened your mouth to ask where the hell it came from, he explained that he “borrowed” it from the community room downstairs. (You made a mental note to return it before anyone noticed it missing.)

Your head was still turning after your conversation with Minghao, and you weren’t all that great at hiding your expression. As soon as you made eye contact with Mingyu, you could tell he knew something was up.

“Did something happen?” he asked.

“Nothing, I’m fine,” you replied as you shrugged off your jacket. “How was the gym? Also, why the whiteboard?”

He grinned. Scrawled on the board in blue Expo marker were both of your names as headers for columns. Mingyu handed you a black marker and stood with one hand gripping the top of the board.

“Step one,” he started. “We write down anything we wanna try, and then we approve or veto the options.”

You uncapped the marker. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“No judgment?”

“No judgment.”

You started writing down whatever desires you had pushed down for years. Albeit short, you figured they covered all the bases. Weeks ago, you wouldn’t have dreamed of admitting any of them to Mingyu; now that your relationship with him took a turn, however, it wasn’t so hard to reveal them.

Next to you, Mingyu was shamelessly jotting sex positions down like he had them memorized. You peeked at his list out of the corner of your eye and nearly did a spit take. The first one on your list was kissing, but Mingyu had started off with anal.

Although he agreed to zero judgment, you were finding it hard to feel the same way.

Once you two were done, you stepped back to look at the whiteboard with its two complete lists side-by-side. Mingyu’s list was considerably longer than yours, but you stood by your own. You felt as though yours was more natural, more gradual.

Y/N

Kissing

Neck kissing

Touching

Penetrative sex

MINGYU

Anal

69

Cowgirl

Wall sex

Public sex

Phone sex

It had come to your attention that Mingyu, like every other man, was incredibly horny.

You had been worrying about the act of sex itself for ages, and your best friend was suggesting something far beyond your capabilities? You weren’t even considering doing anal in the next ten years, let alone for the sake of your contract.

Mingyu snorted. “Kissing.”

“You said no judgment!”

“I thought it was cute, that’s all,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender.

“Anyway, anal?” You scoffed. “I don’t know if your list is exactly beginner level.”

“Well, that’ll just make you an expert by the end of this, won’t it?”

You couldn’t stop your cheeks from heating up. “Okay, how about we start with my much more reasonable list, and then we can get to your scary, intimidating one once we actually, um… do the deed.”

“You have seriously got to start just saying sex.”

“Shut up.”

Mingyu’s smirk was not helping your blush one bit, so you just pretended the embarrassing warmth spreading across your chest didn’t exist. Instead, you grabbed the whiteboard eraser to wipe off the ink from the word anal.

Your best friend slash fuckbuddy let out a petulant whine, so you smacked his bicep.

“I approve of the others for now,” you started shyly, “but we start yours after my list is finished. Do you have anything from mine that you don’t approve of?”

The question wasn’t very sensible, considering all of your list was a prerequisite for more than half of Mingyu’s list. However, after your conversation with Minghao, you were still unsure if Mingyu actually wanted to go all the way with you.

“Nope,” he answered, smiling at you with questioning eyes as if his answer had already been clear as day. “Your list is pretty tame, y’know? Not that it’s a problem or anything.”

Before you could answer, he sucked in a sharp breath and looked over at the board again. “Actually, maybe we should get rid of your first one. It might mess with, uh, rule four.”

Ah, the fourth rule: The friendship must not be ruined, and if the friendship was ever in danger of being ruined, the contract would be terminated.

You were devastated that it had come back to bite you in the ass.

In an attempt to veil your disappointment, you shrugged and turned your head away so that your best friend wouldn’t see the rejection clouding your eyes.

“I’m just curious, but why’re you against kissing?” you asked. “I mean, I just feel like it’ll be awkward if we don’t.”

“You know, it’s the whole neurotransmitters and dopamine rush thing, Y/N,” he explained. If you weren’t feeling so miserable about your best friend turning you down, then you probably would have giggled at his random neuroscience tidbit. “It’s such an emotional act.”

Part of you understood Mingyu’s reasoning behind avoiding kissing. If you were so affected just by his words and eye contact now, then kissing him would mess with your emotions. You weren’t exactly sure if you held kissing at more of a sentimental level as Mingyu did, but you agreed that it intensified intimacy.

Before you were about to hesitantly accept his words, though, Mingyu added, “Judas, in fact, betrayed Jesus with a kiss.”

You couldn’t believe those words came out of his mouth.

“Yeah,” you started, “I don’t think these situations are comparable.”

After gingerly prying the whiteboard eraser from your fingers, Mingyu crossed out “kissing” from your column. The dried ink from the dry erase marker streaked across the board, leaving fragments of ink scattered about that he didn’t bother wiping off. (You were a little distracted by the little zap of electricity that coursed through your veins after his fingers brushed against yours.)

Without missing a beat, Mingyu asked, “You don’t have, like, crabs or anything, right?”

“You’re accusing me of having pubic lice?”

“Well, when you put it like that,” he mumbled, “I guess it sort of sounds like I am. I mean, I don’t actually think you have crabs! I just—you know… it’s good to ask.”

“No, Mingyu, I don’t have crabs.”

“Good, good.” His voice trailed off awkwardly and he leaned against the frame of the whiteboard. His unrelaxed mannerisms were making you feel nervous. “That’s always good.”

“Do you have crabs?”

“I do. Her name’s Clawdia, but with a w, like claw.”

“Mingyu,” you warned.

“I’m kidding.” He held his hands up in defense. “No crabs here. Except Clawdia, but she belongs to Wonwoo.”

You rolled your eyes. Mingyu’s roommate since freshman year, Jeon Wonwoo, was someone you surprisingly didn’t have a lot of interactions with despite him and Mingyu being best friends. Whenever you went over to Mingyu’s place, Wonwoo was normally locked up in his room, either studying or gaming away.

Apparently, he also owned a crab.

“Alright, so,” you started in a small voice, “when do we start?”

His eye contact was galvanizing, sending little currents shooting up your spine. For a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. All you could think about was how brown Mingyu’s eyes were and how they swallowed you whole whenever his gaze set on you.

Normally, you could see glimmers of sunlight dancing across his irises. Now, the look in his eyes was almost ferocious, like two voids that sucked you in.

His lips were pressed together in a thin line, and you almost picked up on the raised pitch of his voice when he proposed, “How about later?”

“Later sounds perfect.”

Telling white lies became increasingly easier around Kim Mingyu.

Later never came.

You were starting to experience major déjà vu because it was so like Mingyu to chicken out after giving his word. Not one phone call or text to meet up, nor did you two bring it up in day-to-day conversations.

On one particular night, though, Mingyu sent you a semi-suggestive message, asking for permission to come over. Since you figured you would be in for a long night, you made sure to shave and spritzed yourself all over with your favorite Givenchy perfume. To your dismay, Mingyu was quick to mention that he wanted to continue your Barbie movie marathon. You begrudgingly spent your night watching Barbie in the 12 Dancing Princesses.

(And you swore his fingers brushed against yours under the blanket you two shared, but when you glanced up at his face, flickering with the shifting TV light, he pulled his hand back faster than it happened.)

The very moment a Barbie movie would start playing, you knew that absolutely nothing would happen between you and Mingyu. And, even if he tried to initiate anything, you wouldn’t reciprocate because there was no fucking way you would taint your wholesome Barbie marathon experience with sexual intercourse.

A week flew by without any follow-up on the contract, but you supposed you were partly to blame, too. There were several times where you could have brought up the topic yourself, but you were just as hesitant as Mingyu. Talking about it was one thing, but acting on your hormones was a feat of its own.

All the waiting and anticipation over Mingyu hopefully making a move was simply making you hornier. It was hard to even think properly whenever you started daydreaming of his lips on top of yours, dragging down your neck, moving down your body—

“—and that’s why you will be receiving twenty boxes of Connect Fours.” Soonyoung finished, causing you to snap out of whatever fantasy was playing in your head.

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t really know how to articulate myself better here,” he said. “Twenty boxes of Connect—”

“No, no, I heard what you said,” you interrupted, “but why the fuck?”

He waved your question off. “That’s not important. What’s important is that you let me know when you get those twenty boxes.” He flashed you a grin and a thumbs-up when you just nodded, dazed. “Thanks. This is why I love you.”

You took a nervous sip from your vanilla milkshake. (Soonyoung worked for the Undergraduate Student Council, which meant you could exploit him for his free dining dollars.)

You couldn’t help but feel crushing guilt every time you spoke to Soonyoung, especially when you two were hanging out one-on-one like this. Mingyu had been harping on and on about how it wasn’t that big of a deal, but maybe it was because the thought of losing your virginity was such a huge deal to you that you kept brooding over your lie.

And, to make matters worse, all you could think about was Mingyu because you were horny out of your mind. The longer he stayed away from you, the longer you kept thinking about him. You almost wished he hadn’t initiated this stupid contract if he wasn’t going to follow through with it.

“Hey, look, it’s your walking wet dream,” Soonyoung said, and lo and behold, there he was: Kim Mingyu fitted in a sleeveless white shirt and gray sweatpants.

He was walking with Jungwoo, whom you assumed came from the gym, too. Mingyu’s hair was damp and matted to his neck, and his muscles were accentuated by a faint sheen of sweat. They didn’t notice you and Soonyoung at first, too occupied with their own conversation, but after Soonyoung hollered from the table you two were sitting at, the two men started looking around until they spotted you.

Maybe you were seeing things, but it was almost like Mingyu seized up at the sight of you.

“Y/N!” Jungwoo was looking at you as if a lightbulb just went off in his head. “I’m formally inviting you to join Kappa Sigma in Vegas this weekend.” When you were about to protest, he continued, “Apparently, Chan’s date flaked on him last minute, so he’s looking for someone else to go with him.”

You folded your arms across your chest. “So what’s the catch?”

“No catch. You get to go to Vegas for free and hang out with me and Soonyoung.”

“Seriously?”

Soonyoung grinned. “C’mon, it’s Sin City.”

Mingyu scoffed. “Wait, this weekend? Isn’t that kind of short notice?”

“It’s Vegas, and everything’s covered. All you have to do is pack a bag or two.” Jungwoo clicked his tongue before patting Mingyu’s chest. “You won’t mind, right? Y’know, since you two fucked and all.”

“Jungwoo!” you screeched, horrified by his blunt wording.

“What? It’s true.”

Mingyu lowered his gaze. “It just happened once. No big deal.”

“See, Mingyu doesn’t have any hard feelings,” Soonyoung said, elbowing you gently in an attempt to lighten your mood. “You have Chan’s number, right? Just shoot him a text when you decide.”

You nodded half-heartedly. Some sort of sick grief pressed against your lungs, snaking its way up your throat and making it hard to breathe. It grew hotter and hotter until you had to swallow it down before any tears started rolling down your cheeks.

“We gotta get to our next class,” Jungwoo said, jerking a thumb in Mingyu’s direction, “but just say yes! Think about it: free hotel, free transportation, free drinks—we’ve got you covered.”

“Yeah,” you muttered, huffy. “Maybe I will.”

You felt stupid. Completely and utterly stupid.

Kim Mingyu, although easy on the eyes, was proving to be quite difficult for your heart.

It wasn’t like you two were dating, nor had either of you even kickstarted your friends with benefits relationship, so there was no reason for you to be upset over his words. As many times as you tried to push it down, you kept seeing his twisted expression when he uttered those three words that pricked you like thorns. No big deal.

No big deal that you felt like crying your eyes out over Kim Mingyu, who wasn’t even anything to you other than a friend. No big deal that you were curled up on your couch, watching a TV show that you were barely paying attention to, but the noise made you feel less alone. No big deal that you were scooping your cookies and cream ice cream into your mouth, thinking about how it was his favorite flavor.

The stupid part was that Mingyu was just covering up your mess. You two didn’t even have sex, and he was just going along with the lie that you came up with. There was no logical reason for you to be mad at him.

And you realized that logic wasn’t often involved in matters of the heart, anyway.

A knock came at your door at approximately 9:15 p.m.—right when you were about to take a shower and drag yourself to bed. You figured it was Mingyu before you even opened it because no one else would show up uninvited.

“Hey,” he said, taking note of your disheveled appearance with an agonizingly slow sweep of his eyes. An ugly part of your heart wanted to believe he possibly could have been checking you out. “Are you busy right now?”

“I was just doing my assignment, but it’s due tomorrow, so I’m chilling.”

“Sorry, I should’ve called or texted.”

You shook your head. “No, it’s all good. Did you need anything?”

You could see him visibly swallow before asking, “Can I come in?” As soon as you opened the door wider, letting Mingyu step through the entry-way, he turned to you and let his shoulders sag. “I feel like I fucked up somehow.”

“You didn’t fuck up,” you said, keeping your back turned to him as you closed and locked your door. Your hand lingered on the door knob for a moment until you pulled away and headed to your living room, hardly sparing Mingyu a glance. “You were just covering for our lie.”

That clearly wasn’t what was plaguing Mingyu, though. Even after you clarified that he hadn’t done anything wrong, it still looked like something was bothering him. His eyes were hard and his jaw was jutting out, which was what his face usually set into when he was sulking.

“Are you really going to Vegas?” he asked, then added, “With Chan?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know yet. It sounds fun. I mean, they’re covering practically everything for me, so I might.”

The reality was that you didn’t care if you went to Vegas or not. Sure, you were more interested after finding out that you didn’t have to pay for transportation or the hotel. Plus, getting to spend time with Jungwoo and Soonyoung away from your college town sounded like a fun experience.

However, you didn’t like the idea of being Chan’s replacement date. You also didn’t want him to feel obligated to go with you just because he had no one else to go with. You also didn’t know what being his date actually entailed because you didn’t want the whole weekend to consist of his frat brothers egging him on to make a move on you.

Like Mingyu said, it was short notice. You were definitely going to feel stressed about making plans for Vegas when it was days away. Not only did you have to pack, but you had to make sure you were all caught up on your schoolwork before you spent your weekend drinking and partying. It didn’t help that you weren’t even done with your assignments due tomorrow.

Mingyu frowned. “You do realize it’s this weekend, right? And you’re probably gonna have to skip your Friday classes to make it.”

“Yeah, I realize that.” You scoffed. “I don’t see why it concerns you, though, considering you and I have both skipped classes before just because we didn’t feel like going. Do you not want me to go or something?”

“It’s completely your decision.”

“If it’s completely my decision, then why are you here? And why are we talking about this?”

He faltered, stammering over words that he couldn’t string together before saying, “Look, it’s your choice whether you go or not. I’m not gonna sit here and tell you I don’t want you to go.”

You paused. A stupid jolt of your heart made you ask, “You don’t want me to go?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You literally just did.”

Mingyu took a moment to replay his own words in his head, his expression morphing from confused to dumbfounded in a matter of seconds. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Okay, yeah,” he said, “but I didn’t say that to change your mind or anything.”

“Well, if you’re gonna bring it up, then at least give me a reason to stay,” you said with an exasperated breath, “or else why should I pass up a free trip to Vegas?”

He pulled away quicker than it happened. One minute you were frustrated, and the next you felt Mingyu’s soft lips pressed against yours for a brief moment. Then, you were frustrated again because it was over so soon. You were blinking away your shock as Mingyu’s hair tickled your face before pulling back.

He kissed you.

Kim Mingyu kissed you.

“You could just stay here,” he murmured in that velvety voice of his, reaching over to card a hand through your hair, brushing that one spot under your ear that made you shudder, “with me.”

Your eyes followed his movements while the rest of your body was frozen, stunned by the sudden physical contact. Mingyu’s voice grew huskier and his eyes darker, but all you could think about were how big his hands were as his fingers ghosted your collarbone.

His lips tugged up in amusement because from one glance, anyone could tell he had an effect on you. There was no denying the electric current running through your body; it was making it harder and harder for you to resist him.

You wasted no time in pulling him down by his collar and kissed him with earnest longing tucked into the corners of your lips.

He didn’t reciprocate until his eyes glazed over with lust, and then Mingyu was grabbing at your waist and pulling you closer. His touch burned, nearly making you flinch underneath the pads of his fingers. If you were being perfectly honest with yourself, there were times where you imagined his lips on yours like this—a thought that crept into your head whenever you saw girls chatting him up at parties.

In sophomore year, Mingyu had a thing with a girl named Hayoung for a few months. There wasn’t a party that would go by without you seeing Mingyu in a corner with her, whispering little secrets that they would laugh at. That was also the year when you became scarily good at hiding your lingering stares. You eventually mastered the art of people-watching without being caught.

And, deep down, you were probably jealous.

And that was probably why you felt like you were in the clouds when Mingyu’s lips were finally on yours.

The two of you were soon engulfed in a cloud of lust once Mingyu nipped at your bottom lip with his sharp canines and slid his tongue into your mouth. You let slip a sound that was something between a whimper and exhale, but it was quickly muffled by Mingyu’s mouth pressing harder against yours, licking into your mouth eagerly. It was as if your lips were molding together in perfect harmony.

It felt as though time melted away, pooling at your feet until you couldn’t move one bit. You felt Mingyu’s big hands ravage down your body while yours were looped around his neck. Just when he started tugging at your clothes, he pulled back and sucked in a sharp breath to ground himself.

You did the same, letting your chest rise and fall steadily as you stared up at him with hints of lust in your eyes that hadn’t ebbed away just yet.

A few moments of silence passed before Mingyu looked toward the whiteboard that you had moved up against the wall.

“Why was kissing on your list, anyway?” he pressed. “You’ve already done it before, so it’s not like it’s anything new to you.” You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Nothing was making sense in your own head. Mingyu stepped closer to you and let his gaze fall to your lips. “Is there another reason?”

You two were impossibly close. So close that you could smell the cologne wafting off him. Feel the cold metal of his chain against your skin.

You were positive that Mingyu could pick up on the nervous hitch in your breathing. Your stomach knotted tighter and tighter as he towered over you, and your heart bruised against your rib cage with how hard it was beating.

“I guess I just felt like I wanted to kiss you,” you admitted, dropping your voice so low that it was barely audible.

But Mingyu heard it. It was clear by the unmistakable grin that stretched across his face.

Always the gentleman, Mingyu asked, “Does that mean we’re ready for step two?”

“What’s step two?”

“Step two on losing your virginity,” Mingyu announced with a dramatic flourish of his wrist to amplify his theatrical voice, “is to set the mood.”

You were pretty sure you and Mingyu already had a good mood going on until he interrupted to announce that.

“Wait, so you were waiting for…” You cut yourself off, shaking your head in disbelief as your eyes focused on his sheepish grin.

“You have to actually want me so that we can start,” he reasoned. “I can’t, like, make you feel good if you’re not into it.”

“But you knew I was attracted to you. I literally called you a ‘walking wet dream’ in front of all our friends.”

“That’s different. You finding me hot isn’t the same as wanting to kiss me.”

“O-okay,” you stammered, “but how do I know if you feel the same way or not?”

“Well,” Mingyu started in that low, husky voice of his, setting his hands on your hips after a beat of hesitation and pulling you closer, “I could just show you.”

His breath was hot against your ear, and you felt as if it lulled you into some sort of trance as he pulled you toward him. Closer and closer until he was sitting on your couch and pulling you on top of him. Before you could even straddle Mingyu properly, he started planting kisses up the column of your neck. Each one grew more hungry than the last as he nipped and sucked at your tender skin.

This was not happening.

Well, of course this was supposed to happen, but you hadn’t exactly mentally prepared yourself for this very moment. The very moment when you and Mingyu would physically cross the line of friendship.

“That feel good?” he purred against your skin, the vibrations making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The fire in his stare made you feel like putty in his hands.

“Mmhm,” was all you could muster without falling apart, so you just wrapped your arms around him tighter.

You winced when he bit down on a particularly sensitive patch of your flesh. For a while, Mingyu just sucked and nipped at the side of your neck until he was pulling back and you were whining for more. His thumb brushed against the bluish-black mark he created, and you could only imagine how much concealer you were going to need to cover it up.

His lips attached to your neck again. For a moment, you thought he was going to give you another hickey until his pecks traveled up all the way to kiss a tender spot under your ear, and then you two froze for a few seconds, not knowing how to proceed. Mingyu’s lips tugged into a frown as he looked at you with an inquisitive hum.

His gaze fell to your lips. “Should I just—”

He cut you off with a swift, experimental peck to your lips. A small smile tugged at his lips when he saw how flustered you looked after.

“Mingyu,” you said in a small voice, “I thought you said no kissing?”

“I don’t care anymore.”

Once again, his lips chased yours until he successfully captured them in a searing kiss. You immediately melted in his hold, and even though part of you was screaming at the other half to stop and think about what you and your best friend were doing, all you cared about was the way Mingyu pulled you closer by the waist, higher onto his lap.

Yet, although you were unbearably horny, you still flinched when Mingyu’s fingers slid under your shirt and sprawled out against your bare midriff.

He froze instantly and then drew his hands back until they were resting on your thighs. You couldn’t help but let out a disappointed sigh, curling your hands into fists so that your nails were pressing crescent-shaped indents into your palms.

You shook your head, your breath stuttering in your chest. “I’m sorry. I’m all good. I just need to—”

“No, no, don’t apologize,” Mingyu said, reaching over to brush your hair out of your face. His other hand stayed on your thigh and gave you a comforting squeeze. “We’re doing this at your pace, remember? We can stop whenever you want.”

But even though he said the right words to put you at ease, you still couldn’t help but feel frustrated with yourself. You just didn’t understand why you had that mental block keeping you from going further. The mixture of discontent and irritation painted across your face was clear as day. But you didn’t want to feel like an idiot in front of Mingyu, so you uncurled your fists and placed your hands on his chest instead.

“Can we try again tomorrow?” you asked shyly.

A single angry tear slid down your cheek, which Mingyu took notice of and promptly wiped from your face with his thumb.

“Of course.” His eyes were a little wide, like he was momentarily buffering while he was trying to figure out how to comfort you. His eyes darted around the room before they settled on the TV remote you kept neatly on top of a stack of books on the coffee table. “Wanna continue our marathon? I think we’re on Island Princess now.”

After you nodded, Mingyu gently helped you off his lap so that you two could watch the movie together. As he toyed with your remote, you couldn’t help but glance at his arms, watching his biceps flex under his shirt. You thought about how they were just circled around your body, and you soon wished his touch was back on your skin.

A short while into the movie, Mingyu’s hand found itself on top of your knee, and you bit back a small smile as it stayed there for the rest of the night.

Mingyu spent another night on the couch—accidentally, because you two fell asleep in the middle of Barbie and the Island Princess—but, this time, you ended up spending the night right next to him.

Of course, nothing happened other than you tossing and turning a few times due to Mingyu’s snores and prying yourself out of his grip so that you could nestle into your blanket. It was an unfortunate fate that you and Mingyu wound up waking up on opposite sides of the couch.

You kept your eyes screwed shut after you woke up, though, choosing to wallow in your own thoughts for the first ten minutes of your day. You couldn’t get over what happened between you and Mingyu last night, and it was making you dread the thought of facing him once you opened your eyes. You were praying that he wouldn’t regret what went down.

It made you feel better that he didn’t shy away from you during the movie. He even made some light jokes about what you two did, which, at the very least, made you glad that he wasn’t having second thoughts.

(“I don’t know why they didn’t call you Captain Chastity By Choice,” Mingyu blurted out while scooping popcorn into his mouth. “We already knocked out half your list.”)

“Morning,” he grumbled in that husky morning voice that made your stomach feel like you were free-falling off a cliff. His soft, sleepy eyes gave you a once-over before he said, “I know you’re awake, Y/N.”

You had been peeking at him through barely-open eyes, but you gave up your farce and straightened up to face him properly.

���Good morning,” you greeted back. “Sleep well?”

He hummed before leaning in to peck your lips—a gesture that caught you off-guard because you didn’t think he would just start casually kissing you whenever. It felt far too intimate for you to brush it off as hormones acting up. You didn’t have the time to ask Mingyu why he did that before he started complaining.

You thought back to the whiteboard where Mingyu crossed out kissing, leaving behind faint traces of dry ink.

“Sort of,” he replied with a pout. “You stole the blanket! I had to curl up in the corner because I was freezing.”

He was rubbing small circles on your thigh with his thumb as he spoke, and you wondered if he knew the effect he had on you.

“By the way,” he continued, “I have an idea.”

“What’s your idea?”

“Let’s not make sex our goal. We can start slow today—maybe just foreplay until you’re comfortable with me.” He straightened up and crossed his legs so that he could face you. “No one’s taken the time to make you feel comfortable first, right?”

You recalled your list of unsuccessful trysts, starting with good old Mark Lee, who unfortunately became reduced to an inside joke in your friend group. After that, you were only intimate with two other men in your college years.

One was Choi Yeonjun, who you stopped while he was in the middle of stripping down so that you could make your escape. He was hot and all, but your nerves caught up to you by the time his tongue was down your throat. The other was Lee Minho, who was an absolute sweetheart, but you ended up calling an Uber to take you home after you saw his (somewhat intimidating) hard-on.

They were quite embarrassing recollections.

“You’re gonna spend the whole day making me feel comfortable?” you asked, and there was a hopeful gleam in your eyes that made Mingyu feel like he was a supernova among stars.

“If that’s what it takes.”

You had to appreciate Mingyu’s commitment.

After making pancakes for you and showing you Reddit stories on TikTok as you ate (which you also spent nearly an hour dissecting afterward), he got right to pulling you onto his lap and tracing a path up and down your forearms. Of course, he let you keep scrolling through his TikTok because you had gotten so immersed in the Reddit stories. Mingyu offered commentary as you two listened to each one under your new favorite profile of the hour.

“Her boyfriend invited another girl to his team dinner?” Mingyu gasped upon hearing the further details, still ghosting his large hands along your arms.

“Not the asshole,” you confirmed at the end with an adamant nod. “He was totally shutting her down when she told him she was uncomfortable.”

“He’s definitely got feelings for the other girl.”

You nearly sucked in a breath at his words. For whatever reason, the very mention of feelings made your nerves feel like cut wire. It was probably because whatever you and Mingyu had become was toeing the line of situationship.

Later, you ended up laying on top of him as a random Disney movie played on your TV. You didn’t exactly remember the process of you two choosing what to watch, but neither of you paid any attention after Mingyu slipped his hands past the hem of your shirt. The pads of his fingers burned against your skin as he drew circles on your bare waist.

“Higher,” you whispered.

Mingyu hummed inquisitively, peering down at you with an amused smile. He ran his hands up your torso so that his fingers rested right under the underwire of your bra.

“Like that?” he asked, and the teasing inflection in his voice made it clear that he was waiting for you to beg for more. And, oh, he loved the look on your face as you fought down your embarrassment. You shook your head before he cooed, “No?”

“No,” you echoed, “higher.”

Mingyu’s fingers slid up just enough to feel the wiring lining your bra cups. He frowned and moved one hand to the small of your back, snaking his hand up until he was holding onto the clasp.

“Mind if I get this out of the way?”

“Go ahead.”

He unclasped your bra with expert precision, his fingers working effortlessly to undo the hook. Your eyes were practically bugging open as you felt the fabric fall from your chest, wondering where in the world Mingyu learned how to do that. You didn’t have the mind to ask, though, because as soon as your bra straps came loose and fell down your shoulders, Mingyu’s hands cupped your breasts and squeezed experimentally.

This was probably the farthest you had gone in terms of physical touch, and you didn’t feel strange at all. Something about Mingyu’s touch was comforting, like the warmth of the sun enveloping you whole.

He rolled your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, making you wince upon contact. You didn’t realize you were so sensitive already. It was clearly affecting Mingyu, too; you could feel something hard poking your thigh, and from what you gathered, it was impressively large under his sweatpants.

“So,” you started, a little too nervous for your liking, “all this is supposed to help me feel comfortable during sex?”

“Yeah, I worked it all out in my head,” Mingyu said between intervals of circling your nipple with his thumb and kissing your neck. “This is all part of my extremely helpful guide to helping you lose your virginity.”

“I wouldn’t call it extremely helpful, considering you’re a virgin yourself.” You laughed when Mingyu pouted in response. “What? I’m just saying I don’t think you have the credentials.”

“I will in”—he proceeded to check an imaginary watch on his wrist—“two business days.”

Two business days, as in the two days Soonyoung and Jungwoo had left for their Vegas trip. Mingyu was determined for you both to lose your virginities by then, although he reassured you over and over again that you could always speak up if you needed more time.

You had been getting several updates from Soonyoung and Jungwoo throughout the day. Apparently, Chan ended up going stag, but last night you saw two girls draped over him on Jungwoo’s Snapchat story. It made you feel a little less bad about turning down being his date.

“Plus,” Mingyu continued, “I have no problem getting naked right now. You’re the one who’s holding back.”

There was a challenging fire in your eyes. “You have no problem?”

“Nope.”

“Alright.” You put your hands over Mingyu’s and pushed them away from your body. “Then strip. Getting comfortable being naked means we have to actually be naked, right?”

“That means you have to undress, too.”

“Fine.”

He looked amused. “Fine.”

Fuck.

You were nervous.

And surprisingly, it wasn’t the thought of being naked in front of Mingyu that made you nervous, it was seeing your best friend completely nude that had you worried. It was no surprise to anyone that Mingyu was a looker, and you weren’t sure you were ready what he looked like under those clothes.

Mingyu gently moved you off of him and stood up to start stripping off his pants and shirt. His shirt came off in a single, swift motion, revealing his toned, muscular body. Years of work were etched in the grooves of his abdomen, his soft stomach complemented by strong muscle. Mingyu was never the type to show off his body at the gym, but you were starting to wish you were prepared for how gorgeous he was.  

Next, he pushed his sweatpants down until the fabric swamped his ankles. You swallowed hard when you saw the growing bulge in his boxers, but seconds later you were looking at how his hard cock stood right up as soon as his boxers had been discarded somewhere across your living room floor.

He was huge.

“Your turn,” he murmured.

You felt your pulse race.

“That’s not fitting inside me,” you blurted out, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. “There’s no way that fits inside me.”

“It’ll fit, Y/N,” he replied softly, reaching forward to take your hands in his. “I’ll do everything I can to make it fit comfortably, and if it doesn’t work out, then we can just keep trying at whatever pace works for you.” You looked skeptical but Mingyu held up his pinky finger. “Promise.”

There was no room for you to doubt him when he was looking at you with those big, hopeful eyes. So, you hooked your pinky finger with his and smiled when he helped you take off your shirt, still keeping your fingers interlocked.

Since you normally slept without a bra, your torso was fully bare once your shirt was off, so Mingyu nearly choked on his spit when he saw you. You moved your free hand to slide your shorts down while his eyes were fixed on the swell of your breasts.

“Can I motorboat your tits?” he asked bluntly.

You snorted immediately, taken aback by his straightforward question. Not only that, but your pinky fingers were still hooked together—a rather intimate gesture followed by a vulgar question.

“Whoa there, Sex Education. Let’s take it down a notch.”

He chuckled before sitting back down on the couch. You thought he would’ve wanted to take care of his hard-on, but Mingyu just held out his arms to you.

“What?” you asked, letting him grab your waist and pull you flush to his chest. Your brows furrowed more when he grabbed the TV remote from your coffee table. “What’re you doing?”

“We have to finish Barbie and the Island Princess, don’t we?”

You gave him a look before it clicked for you. This was all part of Mingyu’s plan to make you feel comfortable—pushing your limits and then settling for something that would put you at ease—so you cozied up to him and let him play the movie.

A demure smile stretched across your face. “Only if we can cuddle.”

“As my lady commands,” he joked, and then you were both laughing.

(And, spoiler: he did more than cuddle.

The way he kissed you made you feel like you were standing on hot coals. His tongue was halfway down your throat and his hands ran up and down your sides. You kissed him until your lungs burned for oxygen and you had to pull back for air. Mingyu peppered love bites all over your body and, by the end of the night, you two were a tangled mess of limbs on the floor with your sweat matting your hair down.

But, most importantly, you two finally got through Barbie and the Island Princess.)

There were a few reasons why Mingyu was roommates with Jeon Wonwoo.

He specifically chose not to room with someone in the friend group for two reasons: the first reason was because Wonwoo’s living habits aligned more with his, and the second reason was to avoid any possibility of ruining the friendship dynamic. Mingyu had his fair share of horror roommate stories, dating back to freshman year when his roommate in the dorms lived like a slob and muttered borderline psychopathic threats in his sleep. You remembered countless nights when Mingyu would knock at your door and ask if he could sleep on the floor.

For Mingyu, Wonwoo was his only saving grace since sophomore year.

You had gone to their room a few times, but you never overstayed your welcome. Although Wonwoo never complained, you felt guilty every time he walked out of his room with AirPods in. It was like he knew to block you out when he heard you coming in.

Today, since Mingyu had been working on code all day, you offered to bring him boba from the farmer’s market that you went to with Ryujin.

You double-checked the label on the side before handing him the drink. “Strawberry matcha.”

“Thanks. I’ve been deprived of boba since fall semester.” He grinned as he tore the plastic wrapping his straw was in. Mingyu popped the straw into the sealing film and took a sip before handing it to you. “Want some?”

“Sure.” You graciously took the cup to sip the delicious fruity blend. Shyly, you added, “It’s also a thank you… for last night. You actually helped a lot.”

You could tell Mingyu was fighting down a smirk; you could practically hear it in his tone. “Oh, did I?”

“Yeah, I actually did feel a lot more comfortable after all that.”

He flashed you a bright grin. “See? It’s the guide.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“I’m serious! It’s effective, isn’t it?” He set his drink down to turn his chair and look up at you properly. “You may think I thought of all that on a whim, but I really put extensive thought into it.”

You had to give him credit for the whole scientific method thing he had going on. You wondered if Mingyu’s consecutive six years of participation in the science fair had prepared him for this very moment.

“Extensive thought,” you echoed. “What? Did you write it all down in a notebook or something?” You laughed it off like it was a joke, but when Mingyu’s expression didn’t budge, you realized that you had hit the nail on the head. “Oh my god, you wrote it down!”

Mingyu huffed. “It’s not even that big of a deal! Writing stuff down helps me organize my thoughts.”

“Well, can I see it?”

“Hell no.”

“Just tell me which notebook you wrote it in.”

“No, ‘cause then you’re gonna look at it later.”

Mingyu thought he was subtle enough to pick up the notebook in front of him and move it away from your reach. Rookie mistake.

Your eyes followed his movements.

“That’s the one, isn’t it?” you asked, pointing at the red notebook that you’ve seen Mingyu jot notes down in before. He always carried it in his school bag, and you were starting to piece together why you hadn’t seen it around lately.

“N-no.”

“You’re such a bad liar, Gyu.” You hardly noticed his hands finding the backs of your thighs and pulling you down to straddle his knees. “Will you ever let me see it?”

“Maybe,” he replied, “or I can just show you what I have planned.”

It was then when you realized that the front of Mingyu’s jeans did look strained. The visible outline of his bulge made you unconsciously clench, which he smirked at once he felt the pulsation against his leg. You weren’t even sure if he was fully hard, but you could definitely feel him through your cotton shorts once you were pulled onto his thighs.

His lips found yours in seconds. Days ago, this was something you were hesitant about doing, but now it came more naturally. Your hands moved in a familiar path from his chest to loop around his neck, and then it was like a switch turned on for your best friend.

You broke from the kiss for air and you both looked down, foreheads touching as Mingyu grabbed your ass with rough hands and helped you grind down on him. Your head clouded over, and all you could think about was moving your hips to meet his so that you could chase the growing ache between your legs.

“That’s right,” he rasped. “That’s a good girl.”

Oh, if he knew the effect his words had on you. You were shamefully ruining the front of his jeans with how aroused you were.

At this point, his hardened length felt massive under you, so you lifted your hips to see just how big his pants had tented up. Mingyu’s grip on you loosened and he lowered his head, embarrassed. Before he could apologize, though, you got off his lap and sank to your knees.

Ever-so-sweetly, you asked, “Can I help?”

You swore you had never seen Mingyu look so blown away in his life.

“A-are you sure?”

“Of course.” You pouted. “You’ve been doing so much for me, and I wanna make you feel good, too.” You balanced your forearms on his knees and grinned up at him, watching his Adam’s apple bob nervously. “So, can I?”

“Please,” he nearly whimpered, fumbling with his zipper to get his jeans and black Calvin Klein boxers down. You helped him out graciously, tugging the fabric down to his ankles and marveling at his cock once it sprung up, curved slightly to your left. Mingyu nearly fell apart when he saw you between his legs, letting out an eager groan. “Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

“You’re really big,” you mumbled, tracing his v-line accentuated by his taut muscles, then his hip, and then the long vein that ran down his shaft with your thumb.

You weren’t even sure if you would be able to take all of him in your mouth. Plus, this wasn’t exactly your area of expertise. You knew this wasn’t Mingyu’s first time receiving head, so you were slightly intimidated. You were slightly terrified about possibly not being good at sucking dick, but you figured your mouth could do a better job than his right hand.

But you had already come this far.

Mingyu’s hand carded through your hair, pulling it back from your face. The gesture only made your confidence falter, wanting to just melt like putty in his grip. You reached out to wrap your hand around his shaft, surprised how rock-hard it was. That just made it all the more nerve-wracking to take him down your throat.

He seemed to pick up on your hesitation, gently asking, “Want me to talk you through it?”

You looked up at him and nodded, flushing hotly when you saw his sincere eyes gleam with amusement.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, grabbing your jaw and gently pressing down on your bottom lip with his thumb. You obeyed and parted your lips just enough for him to slide his thumb into your mouth. “Wider.”

You complied. Mingyu adjusted his hips quickly before encouraging you with a nudge to put your mouth over the head of his cock. You wrapped your lips over his tip, licking off the precum that beaded his slit, and Mingyu hissed sharply.

He let out a sharp breath and let his gaze fly to the ceiling, gripping the arm of his chair. “Fuck, Y/N.”

Mingyu calling out your name so desperately only spurred you to take more of his cock until it hit the roof of your mouth. You were addicted to the sounds of his whimpers, relishing each high-pitched whine from him as you licked the underside of his head. Before, you thought the act of giving head was just extra work for women, but now you were starting to see why it was so addicting. Every moan and cry from Mingyu just made your pride inflate.

You looked up at him through your lashes to see the breathtaking view of his head thrown back and neck veins strained. Mingyu’s hips bucked up slightly, but he fought down his moans to make sure Wonwoo didn’t hear anything.

“Sorry,” he grunted out, eyes screwed shut in pure bliss. “Couldn’t help it.”

You pulled off of him for a moment to reply, “I don’t mind if you do it again.”

“Really?” His voice was almost breathless, half-surprised and half-excited.

You nodded, and Mingyu regained his composure a little so that he could sit up and slide his hand into your hair once more. Your lips wrapped around his cock again and sucked gently on his impressive length. His fingers buried themselves into your hair for leverage so that he could hold onto you while he started slowly moving his hips into your mouth.

With the way Mingyu was moving, you could feel the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. He looked at you for confirmation to continue, so you nodded eagerly and sat up higher on your knees to take him in fully.

The first push into your mouth he did was meek—just enough to get the tip of his head down your throat. You tried to relax your throat to take him in easier, blinking back a few stray tears that were brought on by your gag reflex. The second push was a little stronger, getting a little deeper, which roused a moan out of you. Mingyu must have felt the vibration in his cock because he groaned and bucked his hips into your mouth rougher. His thumb found your bottom lip and rubbed it gently, as if he was prying it open wider.

“Fuck, Y/N, your mouth feels so good,” Mingyu breathed out, soft grunts and curses falling from his lips as he went faster.

His free hand wiped away the tears that started streaming down your cheeks. You were past the point of slight discomfort now, and now you were too focused on listening to Mingyu’s pretty moans to think about anything else.

Without any proper warning, Mingyu’s entire body tensed up and he let out a loud groan, shooting his cum down your throat. He threw his head back, and then his whole body relaxed. His grip on your hair tightened and loosened. You squeezed your eyes shut and swallowed down his load before you pulled off of him, watching his chest heave as he tried to control his breathing.

“F-fuck, I’m sorry,” he apologized profusely. Still winded from his own high, Mingyu was stumbling over his own words. “I didn’t… didn’t think it would happen that fast.” He opened his eyes again and nearly fell apart at the sight of you. “Fuck. Did you really swallow?”

You nodded, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Yeah, I remember Jungwoo told me before that spitters are quitters, or something like that.”

The tension was thick in the room. Although you intended for your comment to lighten things up, the look in Mingyu’s eyes only darkened.

“Come here.”

You could only squeak in surprise as Mingyu pulled you up to kiss him, his rough hands cupping your cheeks. He didn’t seem to care that he was tasting himself on your tongue, and the act only made you moan against his lips. Seconds stretched into minutes before he pulled back.

“My turn,” he said. “Take off your shorts and get on the bed.”

You were reaching to tug down your shorts before he had even finished talking. After sitting down on the edge of your bed, your fingers flew down to tug at your underwear, but Mingyu got to it before you did. He knelt so that he was between your thighs, looking up at you carefully as he slid the cloth past your ankles and lifted one of your legs higher before propping it over his shoulder.

He pulled you in by the hips, dragging his nose up your middle thigh until it reached the apex of your legs. You looked down at Mingyu, breath hitching as you put your other leg over his free shoulder. His hands slid up your thighs and gripped your hips tightly. His long fingers were splayed out at your abdomen, and you felt your stomach flutter.

“No one’s ever gone down on you, huh?” he asked, and you confirmed his statement with a shake of your head. “Just sit back and let me do all the work, then.”

Your nerves caught up to you for a moment. You started to overthink, wondering if the position you were in was unflattering, or if you even tasted good down there, or if Mingyu was only doing this because he felt obligated.

But then he circled your clit with his tongue and you couldn’t think at all.

You cut yourself off by slapping a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the moan that threatened to slip. Your train of thought had completely derailed when Mingyu licked a long stripe between your folds. His eyes were half-lidded, clouded with lust as he flattened his tongue against your cunt to taste you better. A soft groan from him vibrated through your core and up your spine.

Your back arched almost immediately. “Oh—oh my god.”

He started kissing your cunt, and god, it all felt so dirty. You had never felt this way before, and now that you knew that Mingyu’s tongue could make you feel this good, you were starting to see the full appeal of sex. He paused to suck on your clit, and you felt like you were short-circuiting while he ate you out like a man starved.

A pressure started building. You grew anxious and shot right up, tugging on Mingyu’s hair. He was unaware of your panic at first, and then he lifted his head once he felt you tap his shoulder repeatedly. Once his mouth was gone, though, you felt that pressure ebbing away.

“Something wrong?” he asked. “Need me to stop?”

You had to push down all of your shame to admit, “I think I have to use the bathroom.”

To your surprise, Mingyu just laughed. “The bathroom?”

“I’m serious!” You flushed, and the warmth that prickled your skin was different this time.

“I promise you, that’s not what you’re feeling,” he said, rubbing your thigh with his thumb in slow circles. His voice was gentle, like he was trying to soothe your nerves. “Just trust me and let that pressure keep building. Eventually, it’s gonna reach a point where it can’t hold itself in anymore, and then you’re gonna feel really good.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, so just relax for me, okay?”

You let out a shaky breath, nodding before sitting back in your previous position where you had your elbows propped up. Mingyu returned to your cunt with an experimental lick, lasting all of two seconds before he resorted back to his rough kissing and sucking.

You held onto the sheets for dear life as Mingyu plunged his hot tongue into your core, reaching a specific spot that made your eyes roll back and your toes curl. He kept your hips pinned to the mattress as he licked into you. His nose brushed against your clit with how close his face was. It was the final push to send you over the edge, and the warmth that had been building up finally unleashed into blinding white pleasure.

You came hard. The force of your orgasm nearly knocked the wind out of you, and your back was lifting off the bed as Mingyu tried to hold your hips down with great effort. The warmth of it coursed through your entire body, causing the surface of your skin to bead with sweat and cling to the sheets you were laying on.

And, as a photographer, Mingyu had taken pictures of countless gorgeous views that he’d come across in his lifetime, but the sight of you falling apart because of him was, by far, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He pulled back to rub your clit in gentle circles while you were being pulled and swept away by the undertow of your orgasm. Mingyu murmured sweet nothings to keep you grounded, but you couldn’t process any of his words as your ears rang with white noise.

You blinked slowly as you came down from your high, whining as soon as Mingyu took his hand away from your sore clit. Before you were going to praise him for how good he was with his mouth, his lips returned to clean up the mess you made. You could only writhe and whimper as Mingyu licked at your soaking cunt.

He pulled back to grin at you, his lips and chin glistening with your arousal. You had always thought Mingyu looked attractive, but he was godly like this. Your heart raced just by looking at how his dark hair fell into his face and how his canines showed in his smile.

“Earth to Y/N,” he called, waving a hand in front of your face. When you snapped back into reality, you shot him a questioning look. “I was asking how you’re feeling.”

“Good—great,” you corrected, and then you let out a blissful sigh. “Amazing.”

“Great.” He grinned. “Ready for round two?”

“Round two?”

“Yeah, beautiful. You didn’t think we were done yet, right?”

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.” Ryujin looked mortified upon first glance of the bruises that littered your neck. “Are you hooking up with a leech?”

You had gone over to Ryujin’s apartment to drop off one of the prints she got from the farmer’s market and left in your car. Naturally, you ended up spending the evening there. Since you were so eager to share what had happened between you and Mingyu (telling Vernon or Minghao simply wasn’t an option right now), you ended up spilling everything that went down.

From the contract to you and Mingyu going down on each other earlier today, Ryujin hung onto every single word of yours with her jaw hanging in an almost comical way. She was shoveling handfuls of Hot Cheetos into her mouth as you gave her a detailed rundown of the story.

“This is so messy,” she gushed. “I love it.”

“It’s not messy!” you defended, and then added, “Okay, it’s a little messy, but we agreed to stop if it ever starts affecting our friendship.”

“So, you think sucking and fucking isn’t going to affect your friendship at all?”

You stayed silent.

“You should know that cross-contamination in the friend group most likely leads to disaster,” Ryujin continued as she popped a Hot Cheeto in her mouth. “It’s all fun and games because you guys think you’ll be able to maintain the friendship, but as soon as someone catches feelings, it’s over.”

A heavy sigh fell from your lips. “To be honest, I’m a little worried.”

“Worried?”

“We had this whole rule against kissing and it lasted, like, a week,” you explained. “I mean, we didn’t even do anything during that week, so I guess it lasted, like, five minutes. The rule was supposed to be there so that we wouldn’t catch feelings or anything, but Mingyu completely ignores it now. I’m not reading too deeply into this, right?”

Ryujin pondered in thought for a moment before redirecting the question back to you. “Do you want it to be deeper than it is?”

You frowned. “Huh?”

“Like, think about it,” Ryujin said. “Remember when you had a little crush on Mingyu during freshman year? Well, sometimes attraction doesn’t go away, so maybe your old feelings are coming back up now that you guys are, like, hooking up. Probably doesn’t help that Mingyu’s considered conventionally attractive.”

Sure, you had your occasional moments of weakness bubble up to the surface. It was something you tried to keep under wraps, but you were sure Mingyu could pick up on it whenever you were being extra touchy after intimacy.

They were never really of concern to you, though. You figured that you and Mingyu would live out the rest of your lives in parallel lines, neither of you crossing over to the other. It was what made your relationship with him rather simple, really. You would never cross over to his side, and he would never cross over to yours.

That was, until the contract was put into place.

“I don’t know…” you trailed off, and Ryujin clearly wasn’t pleased with your answer.

“Y/N, imagine him kissing another girl,” your friend instructed. She motioned for you to close your eyes, so you groaned and did as she said. You cleared your head to make room for whatever visualization she was making you do. “Imagine him kissing that girl from the Kap Sig party last year. The one who was all giggly and talkative when Mingyu was with us, and then she ignored us after he left.”

“Oh.” You made a face, not even wanting to picture that in your head. “Yeah, I don’t like that, but that girl was bitchy. I don’t think that necessarily means I have feelings for Mingyu, though.”

“Now, imagine him kissing the most likable girl you can think of,” she said. “This girl is the perfect match for Mingyu. She’s gorgeous, and she has a shoulder tattoo—the kind he went crazy over in freshman year. Not only that, but she’s smart. She takes good care of him. She brings him and his friends cookies whenever she bakes. She’s the kind of girl that everyone can’t help but adore when they meet her for the first time.”

You tried to really picture it in your head this time.

You imagined Mingyu next to someone who would be in his league, someone who made people want to stop and stare. You imagined how he would be complimented wherever he went for him and his girlfriend being such an attractive couple.

You imagined him making dinner for her and eating together. You imagined him laughing at inside jokes only the two of them knew about. You imagined him watching Barbie movies with her.

And it made your heart twist painfully.

You decided to shrug it off instead, saying, “If he’s happy, I’m happy.”

“Enough with that shit,” Ryujin deadpanned. “I’m here for drama. Give me something to work with, at least.” She shook her head disappointedly, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her. Once you simmered down, she continued, “But, in all seriousness, I think you should really be careful with whatever you and Mingyu have going on. It won’t end pretty if someone catches feelings while the other person doesn’t.”

You pressed your lips together in a grim line. “You’re right. I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Anyway, back to the juicy stuff,” Ryujin said, inching closer to you while hugging her knees. “What else did you guys do?”

“We sixty-nined,” you whispered, as if it was some scandalous bit of gossip. “He was the six; I was the nine.”

“Okay, never mind, let’s tone down the juicy.”

You woke up to several Snapchat notifications from Jungwoo. They were all sent at four in the morning, and most of them were just him running through the streets of Las Vegas at night without his shirt on. You were mildly concerned, but you figured they were just having fun.

You tapped through the other snaps Jungwoo sent you. Soonyoung blacked out on a bar counter. A hooker sitting on Chan’s lap. Jeonghan with several hundred dollar bills in his hands. Another snap of Jeonghan with the caption stating that he lost all his money.

Then, it struck you that it was their last day in Vegas.

“We have one more day,” you informed Mingyu over the phone, “and then we have to start seeing each other secretly.”

“That’s kinda hot.”

“No! Not hot! I don’t know about you, but I experience crushing guilt whenever I have to sneak around them, like when I lied about us sleeping together.”

“Technically, we’re already doing that.”

You snorted. “You know what I mean.”

“By the way, not contract-related, but you should come over right now,” he said. “I have some good news to share.”

“Is it about your pink eye scare?”

At around two in the morning, Mingyu texted you a picture of his puffy eye and claimed he was “allergic to pussy.” You sent him back a picture of you flipping him off.

It turned out to be allergies, but Mingyu was completely convinced he had pink eye—all thanks to WebMD. You had to listen to him freaking out for thirty minutes until he calmly informed you that his eye wasn’t puffy anymore.

“Not funny,” he warned. “Okay, kinda funny, but—okay, wait, point is, you should come over.”

You giggled. “Okay, I’ll come over. See you soon.”

You hung up the phone to get ready, feeling oddly excited about going over to Mingyu’s. Ryujin’s words from last night started to get into your head, making you wonder how you truly distinguished your relationship with your best friend. Because why did you feel the need to put on makeup to see him when you had never thought about that in your four years of being friends? And why were you taking extra long to pick out an outfit that was supposed to be casual?

You were deep in thought all the way to his doorstep, only letting it dissolve into the backwaters of your memory once the door opened to Mingyu’s excited face.

“They chose my submission,” was the first thing he said, his eyes shining.

You didn’t even have to ask for clarification. Right away, you knew exactly what he was talking about: the sunset photograph he submitted to the exhibition. It had been all he was raving about for weeks.

“Oh my god!” Your eyes were wide as you looked down at your hands helplessly. “I don’t have anything for us to celebrate with! Hold on, I can run to the store and buy, like, cake or—”

“Slow down.” Mingyu laughed. He grabbed you gently by your forearms and grinned. “We don’t need to celebrate anything. Just promise me you’ll come see my photography.”

“Of course.”

“My submission was for you, so you have to go. Promise?”

If it was even possible, your eyes grew even wider. “It was?”

“You’ll see.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Anyway, the gallery opening is in a few days. I’ll text you the address and time later.”

“Alright.” You held out your pinky to interlock with his own. “I promise.”

Mingyu wrapped his pinky around yours and grinned before tugging you by the same finger into his apartment. You followed him into his room, eyeing how strong and wide his back was. You were starting to fall back into dangerous imaginations again, wondering if he was going to make a move on you again now that you two only had a day left. Not that you would admit it to your best friend, but you were hoping something would happen.  

“Wonwoo found out Clawdia was getting lonely, so he’s out looking for a pet store that sells hermit crabs,” Mingyu explained. “He was on my ass about it, too, because I said crabs are probably fine being on their own. I mean, they’re called hermit crabs. How was I supposed to know they’re social creatures? Misleading name, if you ask me.”

Although you were (partly) engrossed in his story about Wonwoo’s pet crab, your eyes couldn’t help but linger on the red notebook on Mingyu’s desk.

He picked up on what was distracting you before you could even tear your gaze away, saying, “You’re so nosy.”

You made a face. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.” His shoulders slumped as a retired sigh escaped his lips. You could see that you had been wearing him down over the notebook, so he bargained, “Alright, I’ll show you on one condition.” He plopped down on the edge of his bed. “I want something in return.”

You were most definitely taking his words the wrong way because your cheeks were heating up while Mingyu remained completely impassive.

“Something in return?”

“Yeah, I want an answer,” he started, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. “When exactly did you start finding me cute? Or, in your words, a ‘walking wet dream,’ right?”

You barked out an unamused laugh. “Yeah, there’s no way I’m telling you.”

“Notebook,” Mingyu reminded.

Suddenly, you were elated about show-and-tell.

“You first,” he insisted. “I assure you, mine is regrettably more embarrassing.”

“The first time I found you cute…” you trailed off, trying to recall the exact moment you started appreciating your best friend’s attractiveness. “I’d say it was in freshman year when we went on the hike together during orientation week. You were all sweaty and wrapped your arm around me when we took a group picture at the top. I was going crazy about it to Ryujin, but then we became good friends, so I just pretended I never felt that way.”

“Freshman year?” he asked, wide-eyed. “You thought I was cute back then? I was a baby!”

“We were eighteen. Don’t make me sound like a creep.”

Mingyu laughed. “I just can’t believe you thought I was cute back then. I didn’t even think you thought about me like that.”

“It was our first week and I was cut loose from my parents.” You shrugged. “Plus, I think every girl in our orientation group wanted to get in your pants.”

“Not Ryujin.”

“No, she was still dating that guy from her high school, remember?”

You scrunched up your nose at the memory; back in the first few months of your freshman year, Ryujin always ditched you and Mingyu at random points during the night because her controlling boyfriend would call to make sure she wasn’t out and about. He was especially suspicious of Mingyu for being an attractive, well-liked man. You found the whole thing ridiculous because her boyfriend was keeping her from having fun and making friends.

To make matters worse, Mingyu ended up finding out Ryujin’s boyfriend was cheating on her after seeing one of his mutual friends post him on her private Snapchat story. It was a picture of them in bed together, and he completely denied it when confronted. You and Ryujin bonded the most during the week she planned to dump her boyfriend, and she ran straight to you once she did. After she cried her tears and used up all of your tissues, you two had your own beach bonfire to burn all of the gifts he got her.

You still remembered how you and Mingyu were back then. Since you two were still new friends, things were still a little shy and awkward. It wasn’t until your third year that you and Mingyu got closer, starting to hang out one-on-one instead of with Ryujin. Since she got busy with internships and her club activities, Ryujin grew a little distant from Mingyu, although they were still on good terms.

“Alright,” you said, impatience sticky like honey on your tongue, “your turn.”

“Ah, right.”

Mingyu walked over to his desk and picked up the notebook. You watched how he rubbed the back of his neck before turning back to you, and his head was turned so that you wouldn’t catch sight of his blush. (You noticed, though.) He flipped past several pages, eyes skimming through math formulas and physics problems before he landed on a page with several scribbles and arrows.

“It’s, like, this page and a few more,” he explained. “Knock yourself out.”

(You decided not to point out that it was more like ten pages.)

You grinned, thrilled, and laid out the notebook in front of you so that you could take everything in. Right away, Kim Mingyu’s Guide to Losing Your Virginity was scrawled at the top. You snorted, grabbing a pencil from his desk to write Unhelpful before Guide. He watched you nervously as your eyes flitted from note to note, your smile growing bigger at certain things he wrote.

A poorly-drawn arrow from how to make y/n feel comfortable to make sure she knows she can take everything at her own pace made you feel something warm and fluttering in your chest. You couldn’t believe Mingyu put this much effort into making you feel good—so much effort that he had entire pages in his notebook dedicated to brainstorming how to pleasure you. You had never been so focused in your life as you read through what he penciled in, and one idea in particular caught your attention.

suggest REALLY sexual things so she feels more comfortable sharing what she wants to do. this will probably make her judge (bully??) you but it’s for good reason

“You’re kidding,” you said, eyes still fixed on the notebook. “You made your list that long just so I wouldn’t feel awkward?”

Even though you asked the question, you were barely listening to him as your heart pounded in your chest and your blood rushed in your ears. You didn’t even have half the mind to see the shy expression painted over Mingyu’s face because you were so locked in on the notebook. His stammering and backtracking became background noise as you were hyper-focused on the words he wrote.

Somehow, this felt bigger than any emotion you had experienced before.

You were consumed, and it scared you. Sweltering in the overwhelming feeling of longing and possibly something more. And you realized that even if you ended up with someone else after all this, a part of you would always belong to Mingyu—the part of you that watched Barbie movies and liked coming home to a dinner for two.

Was it presumptuous for you to assume that Kim Mingyu could possibly harbor romantic feelings toward you? Was it safe to say that maybe you felt the same way?

“—but now that you’ve seen it,” you finally heard him say (after taking a few seconds to register his voice), “can we take out phone sex from the list? I was never really big on that.”

You looked up at him and laughed, a touch distracted because you were still caught in the tide of your own revelations. But you laughed like you were eighteen again, sitting in Mingyu’s dorm room and listening to him recount one of his hilarious stories about him getting lost on campus or being chased by seagulls.

And now you were twenty-one, sitting in Mingyu’s apartment and giggling like you were eighteen again.

Everything melted away, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to kiss Mingyu.

You sat up on your knees and wrapped your arms around his neck. You didn’t think you had ever looked at Mingyu with such unadulterated desire in your eyes.

Craving. Longing. Yearning.

All of it was festering inside you.

“You’re such a dork, Gyu,” you murmured before pressing your lips to his.

This time, when you kissed him, you felt like all of the stars in the sky hung below the clouds just to witness this very moment. Mingyu was stunned for a few moments before he brought his hands up to pull your face closer to his. His nose brushed against your cheek, and you let a giggle slip between soft pecks and deeper kisses.

He pulled back for air, labored breaths falling from his lips before he found you again. This time, the kiss was deeper, rougher. Adrenaline coursed through your veins as Mingyu held you tighter, squeezing your sides so hard that you were arching up against his body.

You had always tried to push down hope before it was born, but the way Mingyu held you made you feel like you were on top of the world. You wanted to believe there was longing in the way his hands ran up and down your body, but you were too scared that you were mistaking his lust for something more.

Even as he pulled away once more to catch his breath, keeping his eyes flitting between your eyes and lips while his forehead was pressed against yours, you so desperately wanted to believe that there was something more behind his affectionate gaze. Something real.

It was when he pressed a chaste kiss to your nose that your hope bloomed in your chest like a valley of flowers kissed by spring.

His hand found its way behind your head, bringing you back to him for more. You felt like you could be there forever, just exchanging wordless affection and holding each other close. Mingyu moved over you so that he was suspended over your body, starting to lick into your mouth once your back hit the bedsheets. You accepted it almost immediately, parting your lips so that your tongue could dance with his.

Then, you were whining against his lips, begging for more. The sloppier and dirtier your kisses got, you were desperate for more skin-to-skin contact. You hooked your finger into one of his belt loops and tugged him closer, which resulted in Mingyu grinding his hips down against yours.

“You want more?” he asked, more raspy than coherent, really, and you could only nod in response as you pulled him closer. Mingyu peppered kisses from your jawline to the column of your neck, leaving behind love bites that you would need a lot of concealer and color corrector for later. “I don’t wanna rush—”

“No, Gyu,” you urged him, tugging him forward by the front of his shirt. “I need you.”

His voice came out in a breath. “Need me?”

“I want you. I want you to be my first because I… I trust you.”

He grinned brightly, canines on full display while his hair was a tousled mess above you. You were pretty sure his smile would be imprinted behind your eyelids forever.

His hand slipped under your shirt and ran up your back, maintaining eye contact with you and looking pleasantly surprised at the absence of your bra.

He pressed a tender kiss to the side of your neck before helping you pull off your shirt. Mingyu’s face was set in a grin before his smile slowly fell, replaced by a look of utter confusion. His brows were pulled together in perplexion as he stared at your tits.

Or, more specifically, the pasties over your nipples.

“Oh, my bad,” you said, unfazed, “I forgot I still had those on.”

“What is it?”

“Seriously? You’ve never seen a nipple cover?” you asked, making your best friend yelp when you peeled the adhesive off your skin. Mingyu shrunk back with a wince before you placed the silicone in his hand. “It doesn’t bite.”

He weighed it in his palm carefully before placing it on his bedside table. “Looks like a chicken breast.” Then, he looked back at your tits. Instead of bedroom eyes, there was genuine concern in his gaze. “It didn’t hurt when you ripped it off, right?”

You stifled a laugh. “No, it didn’t hurt. My boobs are all good.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast for good measure. He squeezed experimentally, but you were certain he was just still in shock over the nipple cover. This would normally be when you shrunk in on yourself, but Mingyu discovering the existence of pasties was far too entertaining for you to shy away.

“Good,” he said before he sighed, a little too dreamy to convince you that this was purely platonic. The lighthearted moment settled back into tension. Barely loud enough for you to hear, Mingyu murmured, “You’re so pretty like this.”

You wondered if your eyes were as big as they felt. “You think I’m pretty?”

“You don’t?” He frowned, as if he was offended that you weren’t seeing what he was. “I think you’re beautiful.”

He said it before, but you thought it was just a pet name because he was in the mood. Now that he was saying it so sincerely, looking at you like you were his entire world, you felt like you had turned into putty in his hold. Your nerves were practically on fire under your skin.

“You’re sure about this, right?” he asked again, brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. When you nodded, he readjusted his position so that he was underneath you, moving your hips so that you were sitting on top of him. “Just let me know if you wanna stop.”

“It’s your first time, too,” you said softly, reaching out to trace his jawline. “Are you ready?”

“Oh, I’ve been waiting.” He smiled before pulling you down for another long kiss.

He kissed you for what seemed like ages, running his hands all over your body and teasing you with kisses to your neck and jawline when he pulled away. While he was getting a condom from his nightstand, you wondered how you could ever get enough of him if this was what sleeping with Kim Mingyu was like.

While you both were a mess of limbs, you managed to remove every article of clothing from each other until your bare bodies were pressed against each other. He tore the silver wrapping of the condom off to slide the lubricated rubber over his cock. Of course you had seen him naked before, but you still couldn’t get over how wonderfully sculpted his body was. He had to have been blessed by a Greek god.

Mingyu held you close to his chest, his eyes raking your body again and again until you felt weak in the knees. When he hovered over you, lining up his cock with your soaked cunt, you had to swallow down your anxiousness.

Questions billowed in your head, floating about until they turned into butterflies and flew straight to your gut. What if he didn’t fit? What if you couldn’t take all of him in? What if it hurt?

But Mingyu had always been so reliable, so comforting. You felt safe in his arms, even if you had been working yourself up over this very act for years. You wanted to be brave for him.

“Are you ready?” he asked once more—just to be safe because he was right there. This was your last chance to back out and he wanted to make sure you truly wanted this.

You nodded with firm self-assurance. “Yeah, I am.”

“Okay, bear with me here,” he replied, the tips of his ears going pink as he tried to laugh off his awkwardness. “I’ve never exactly done this before.”

You laughed. “Me neither. We can figure it out together.”

His lips tugged into a small smile. Mingyu leaned down to press a soft kiss to your lips before he tried pushing his cock into you, guiding it with his entrance. It took him a few tries to work the head in without accidentally slipping out. The first stretch you felt wasn’t painful, but there was mild discomfort that you pushed down.

But then Mingyu couldn’t push into you any further. Your excitement fizzled and your emotions were swinging dangerously into a pit of worries.

Your best friend was a problem-solver, though. He hummed inquisitively before repositioning himself at your entrance.

“Wrap your legs around my hips,” he instructed. “I think that’ll be easier for you.”

You did as he said, tucking your legs around his hips and hooking your ankles together. Your arms hung loosely around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair and twirling them around your fingers. You bucked your hips up once to indicate you were ready, not realizing that it would make Mingyu grunt instead. You could feel your core pulsing from how badly you needed him.

After sucking in a shaky breath, Mingyu started pushing into you once more. Your arousal made it easier for him to slip inside, finally pushing the head of his cock past your folds. You cried out, tightening your grip on Mingyu as you adjusted to his size. You hadn’t even gotten his full cock in you yet.

Mingyu eased his way inside you for what seemed like ever. He didn’t care about how long he was taking or if he was getting impatient; he calmly took the time to work his cock into you. The long vein that ran down his length made you shudder as it brushed against your walls.

“That feel good?” he rasped, looking into your eyes for any signs of pain.

You nodded eagerly. “Y-yes! Please keep going.”

Your body was hot. Feverish. It felt like your pleasure was building up slowly—a dull ache at your core that grew as Mingyu pushed deeper inside you. He lowered his head to kiss your neck at the same time, nipping and sucking at your tender flesh while you moaned and writhed under him.

Finally—finally, finally, finally—Mingyu’s hips pressed flush against yours and you bit down on your lip to keep yourself from screaming out. The pain was sharp, almost dizzying, but after Mingyu held you and kissed you all over until you relaxed, you felt it subside slowly. He sighed happily, bucking into you slightly to feel how deep he was. You buried your face into his chest once you felt the room going a little fuzzy.

Aching, gnawing pain.

Deeper and deeper, but the pain built with each push into you. One certain thrust made you feel as though you hit a peak, but then you felt yourself coming down. You closed your eyes through it, taking deep breaths until the pain had mostly alleviated, a new feeling of pleasure rushing through your body.  

He didn’t say anything for a long while, just letting you take things at your own pace. It was only until you begged him to move that Mingyu complied and started moving his hips.

With an experimental, shallow thrust, you let out a whimper and let one of your legs unhook from the other, letting it lay on the bed instead. Mingyu held your other hip up and started thrusting slowly into you, making sure to keep his pace exact so that he didn’t slip out again. Your pleasure was building up fast, like a spell of vertigo that left your head spinning and your body flushed.

“F-feels so good, Gyu,” you cried out, and then you couldn’t say anything at all once his tongue pried its way into your mouth. His lips slotted against yours perfectly, like both of your lips had been specifically molded to fit each other’s.

He thrusted deeper. Some of his thrusts hit that golden spot inside you that made your world turn blinding white. You were dangerously close to an orgasm with how good he was making you feel.

Mingyu sped up his thrusts, holding your hips and dragging his lips across your skin to leave love bites along your collarbone and shoulders. With the way he shifted your hips to pound in at a better angle had your legs shaking and your eyes rolling back into your head. You were far too sensitive to last long, especially since this was your first time experiencing such pleasure.

Realizing that your muscles had started involuntarily twitching, Mingyu thrusted into you deeper and caged you in his grip. You were teetering on the precipice of a release, holding onto his strong arms for leverage—something to ground yourself while you about to dive into your own ecstasy.

The brute strength in his thrusts led you to falling over the edge, jolts of pleasure coursing through you as you chanted Mingyu’s name over and over again like a prayer. The force of your orgasm nearly knocked the wind out of you, making the world before you go blurry as Mingyu fucked you through your high.

You nearly didn’t register him moaning out, too, his lips framing your name as he came. It felt as if you had short-circuited, laying underneath him helplessly as you rode out your orgasm. The current tugged and swept you away, sending aftershocks of pleasure to your sore cunt.

You blinked twice to reorient yourself, coherence bleeding back into you. It was when Mingyu kissed your forehead that it finally clicked for you.

You finally lost your virginity.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your temple. “That was incredible.”

You nodded, dazed, about to thank him back before you noticed that something was running down your hip. You touched the liquid curiously, wondering if you had just been that overstimulated, but what you found on your fingertips was blood.

You shrieked.

“What happened?” he asked, eyes wide before he saw your hand. He chuckled lightly. “Oh, I see. This is normal after your first time; it’s no big deal.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it.”

Mingyu didn’t seem to understand the gravity of the situation, though; he was smiling delightedly while you were a panicked mess. Blood was gushing out of the very place Mingyu’s cock was buried, and you were humiliated because of your new position as Human Ketchup Bottle.

“Wow,” he cooed sarcastically, rubbing your hips gently, “it’s like you’re my personal little volcano.”

“Oh my god. Please shut the fuck up, Gyu.”

After helping clean you up and a few more sessions of you two gushing over how good your first time felt, you and Mingyu laid in bed together, side-by-side. He had gone on several tangents about how it was nice that you two didn’t feel awkward around each other and that he was almost worried because he heard a lot of horror stories about people’s first time.

Apparently, Vernon’s first time was quite unmemorable because it was a quickie in a hot tub. He had never considered the friction caused by the water being uncomfortable, so it wasn’t one for the books.

To your surprise, when Mingyu headed to the kitchen to get you some water, you felt strangely hollow. As your eyes grew unfocused, the ache from the penetration was more clear, and you started to feel a little empty.

No one ever talked about what happened after sex. No one ever talked about how, shortly following the aftermath of your first time when you were coming down from the dazzling glow of your orgasm, the only thing you could feel was overwhelming vulnerability.

It was like you had been flying up in the clouds, got too close to the sun, and dropped right into a void of sadness. You were bordering on a feeling of emptiness as you stared up at Mingyu’s popcorn ceiling.

Then, the bed dipped next to you. Mingyu came back with a glass of water for you and one of his sweaters—the black Ralph Lauren one his mom got him for his high school graduation. Yeah, he was definitely starting to outgrow it, but he kept it hung up in his closet, anyway. Something about it being sentimental to him.

“You good?” he asked in a gentle voice, setting the glass of water on the nightstand. He slid onto the mattress next to you, wrapping a strong arm around your waist. “You look a little out of it.”

“I’m better now,” was all you said, smiling contently after placing your arm on top of his.

“Did something happen? Did I do something?”

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell Mingyu how you were feeling; you just didn’t know how to. There was nothing he had done to upset you at all, and the night had been incredible. You were still over-the-moon from losing your virginity to your best friend. That was why the wave of sadness that hit you afterward was strange and foreign.

“No, no, it’s just…” You sighed. “I just felt really sad for a few seconds. Like, don’t get me wrong, that was the best feeling ever, but after you went to go get water and stuff, I just got really sad.”

Something flashed across Mingyu’s face. It was the look he always wore when he was correcting someone or explaining some nerdy bit of information he knew. You were anticipating him to go on some tangent about heightened emotions peaking during sex would lead to a crash—something along those lines.

But then, he simmered. His expression was immediately replaced with understanding as he squeezed you tighter. Mingyu must have known that you just wanted to be comforted, not talked to, so he just tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

You felt warmer. Safer.

“Do you feel better now?” he asked.

You sucked in a breath. “Much better.”

Somewhere between your mumbles and whispers of conversation, you and Mingyu ended up drifting asleep in each other’s arms.

It was around twilight when you woke up, dusky purple streaming through the windows and across Mingyu’s peaceful face as he was deep in slumber. You turned your gaze back up, staring at the chipped paint and grooves in the popcorn ceiling, feeling as if you were drowning in your own emotions.

The feeling settled in your chest. It was always there, like a dull ache, but now it was loud. Pounding.

You were in love with Kim Mingyu.

You ran into Ryujin later—much later. It was well after you went back to your apartment and had a meltdown over your newly-recognized feelings for your best friend.

After you talked yourself through your feelings for nearly an hour, you realized that you couldn’t handle this problem head-on. You needed the assistance of your favorite cookies and cream ice cream from Ben and Jerry’s, so you walked to the nearby grocery store in sweatpants and a jacket.

While you were trying to balance three tubs of ice cream in your arms, Ryujin happened to wander into the freezer section, looking mildly concerned at the sight of you. She was pushing a cart full of groceries with her glasses sitting low on her nose.

“Need any help there?” she asked, moving aside her bag of cilantro to make space for your ice cream.

“You were right,” you admitted, and you nearly sounded hysterical with how breathless and frazzled you were. “I’m in love with him.”

“Oh shit.”

“Yeah.”

“That explains the ice cream.”

“Totally overshot the much simpler feeling of just liking someone, or being attracted to someone,” you rambled, allowing her to take the tubs of ice cream from your hands. “It couldn’t even just be a silly little crush, either. I’m just… in love with him.”

“So, what’re you gonna do now?”

You paused. “Would it be reasonable for me to think about it after I see him again?”

“Reasonable? Absolutely not. Stupid? Probably.”

“Well, that’s what college is for, anyway.”

“I support you,” she started, “even if I think you’re a dumb bitch.”

“Thanks, Ryujin, I think.”

The golden rule about being in your twenties was that it was the prime time to be young, dumb, and make stupid decisions.

The stupid decision you settled on for today was inviting Mingyu over when you really should have been taking some time to figure out your feelings for him. You knew very well that this would fuck with your emotions, but you had to give in to your carnal desires. Now that Mingyu had relinquished you of your virgin title, you couldn’t get enough.

You had always wondered what it would be like when you finally lost your virginity. Part of you thought it would be some sort of final form that you would achieve, but it wasn’t exactly all that different. Society overvalued deflowerment, you figured, but there was something that rang true.

Your face glowed a little brighter. Whether that was because of your recent confidence boost or your post-sex elation, you weren’t sure.

But now, you were in a predicament: you wanted more. Naturally, that led you to calling Mingyu and subtly asking if he wanted to come over.

That was how you ended up with your chest pressed against the wall while Mingyu’s body was caging yours. His strong chest was against your sweat-beaded back, and you swore you could feel every muscle of his keeping you from budging. It took him a few valiant efforts to fit his cock inside of you, and you had to reposition yourself several times for him to find a good angle. Once he had slid into you with ease, though, he started thrusting into you with vigor, soft grunts falling from his perfect lips.

(You realized Mingyu wasn’t able to get enough of you, too. He walked in, exchanged a greeting and gave you an update on Wonwoo’s crabs before his rough hands were turning you around and holding you against the wall. While his lips worked on your neck, you managed to sputter out some nonsense about being happy for Wonwoo’s new crab, Clawmander.)

“You’re wet,” he observed, his tone frank and even.

“Excellent observation, Sherlock Holmes.” You managed to gasp out the words before Mingyu’s cock hit that perfect spot inside you that made your vision curl with darkness at the ends.

“Jesus,” he hissed, lips brushing against your left ear. You let out a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a moan while he used his free hand to rub your clit in torturous circles. “I didn’t think you’d get this worked up over me.”

You didn’t answer him. This wasn’t the right time or place for him to hear the true reason. Plus, you could hardly string any words together when he was making you feel so good.

“Don’t cum just yet,” he muttered, and you whined when his cock slid out of you. When you turned around to ask him what his deal was, Mingyu lifted you up effortlessly and carried you to your couch. He had you straddling him while his hands rested on your thighs. “I want you to ride me, beautiful.”

Intimidation settled in. Mingyu could see it in your eyes—the way they refocused and your gaze flitted around hesitantly.

And, because Mingyu was just a tenderhearted, loveable ray of sunshine, he added gently, “If you want to, of course.”

Your eyes went lust-lidded as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You just wanted to make him proud.

“Sit back,” you told him, and you lifted your hips so that you could sink down on his throbbing cock.

Mingyu sucked in a sharp breath, holding your hip with one hand and helping adjust his length with the other. You winced, still not used to the penetration, but the initial pain was less sharp than it was the first couple times. Once you felt the mild discomfort replaced with the hot pleasure you were chasing just minutes before, Mingyu helped you start moving your hips up and down on him. He let go of your hips to throw his head back and run his hands down his face, agonized that he couldn’t fuck into you himself.

You placed one hand on his chest and let your body hover over his as you fucked yourself on his cock. Then, Mingyu decided to pull you flush to his body and buck his hips up on his own. You cried out from feeling him deeper inside you, but then you were moaning into the curve of his neck.

“You feel so good around me,” he whispered into your hair. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

You pulled back, still bouncing on his dick with spurts of clarity returning to you. You were still dazed from how good he felt inside you, but Mingyu’s words were trying to reel you back into proper coherence.

“H-how long?” you stuttered out.

Mingyu smirked up at you, but before the fluttery feeling returned to your chest, you were paralyzed with fear when you heard a loud knock followed by the door handle turning. Your oncoming orgasm came to a halt and dissipated immediately after.

You and Mingyu repelled like magnets; you winced as he practically manhandled you off his lap and scrambled away, so you pushed him off the couch as payback. You only had time to pull your blanket up to cover your bare chest before Soonyoung appeared in the doorway. Mingyu, butt naked, was perfectly facing the front door, and he could only cover his crotch with both hands in time.

Cue Soonyoung screaming, then Mingyu, then you.

For a few seconds, it was a perfect choir of discordant screeching.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” you yelled as Mingyu tried to duck out of the way. He eventually realized there was no immediate escape and just turned around, making Soonyoung sigh heavily and cover his eyes with his sleeve when he saw Mingyu’s ass on full display.

“Well, my… my Connect Fours—”

“You could’ve knocked!”

“You told me I could come over and pick them up!”

“You still could’ve knocked!”

“Don’t blame me; I am the victim here! Normally, you’re in here watching a rerun of Jersey Shore, so I wasn’t exactly thinking, ‘Oh, what if Y/N’s actually getting dicked down by Mingyu right now?’ No! Because no one tells me what’s going on anymore!” Soonyoung argued. “I just came here to get my Connect Fours, not for front row seats to the Magic Mingyu show!”

“I’m sorry.” You sent Mingyu an uneasy look, and then you grew more concerned as you watched him manage to awkwardly wrap most of his body with the white drapes at your windows. You turned back to Soonyoung. “You didn’t see too much, did you?”

“I just saw Mingyu’s asscheeks on full display!”

Mingyu pouted, taking great offense to Soonyoung’s panic. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Okay, I’d rather see your asscheeks, like, on purpose,” he replied, exasperated, “not like this! My eyes feel violated.”

“Soonyoung,” you whispered harshly, and, if looks could kill, you were sure your friend would be six feet under. You waved your hand, motioning for him to leave as the situation was becoming increasingly awkward. “I’ve only got ten of the boxes so far. I’ll text you when the rest come.”

“Right, right,” he mumbled, turning to grab the large package at your entryway. “I’ll just take this and go, then. Let me know when the rest come.”

You sighed. “Yeah, of course.”

“By the way, how big is Mingyu’s dick? He won’t tell us how—”

Mingyu, who looked horrified at this point, raised his voice so high that you nearly burst out laughing from how squeaky it sounded. “Can you leave already?!”

“Before I go,” he said, “I’ll see you guys at Kap Sig for the Beerlympics tomorrow, right?” After he was met by two piercing glares, your friend realized that this was probably not the time nor place for this conversation. “Sorry! Just text me if you decide to show up!”

Soonyoung closed the door behind him loudly to make it known that he had left, and you and Mingyu relaxed once he was finally gone.

“I’m gonna lock your door,” Mingyu started, all huffy and flushed with embarrassment, “and then we can get back to what we were doing.” While he was making sure your lock was secure and walked back, he kept lecturing, “You know, you should really keep your door locked all the time. You never know what’s going to happen.”

You heard him loud and clear, but your mind was still buzzing with questions from what he said before you two were walked in on. All you wanted to know was how long he had been waiting to sleep with you, and you were so curious that you weren’t even feeling humiliated anymore over Soonyoung nearly seeing you naked.

“How long have you been waiting?” you asked. When Mingyu only gave you a confused look, you clarified, “You said it earlier while I was on top of you.”

“Oh.” He rubbed the back of his neck before his lips stretched into a smile. “How about this: I’ll tell you when you come to see my work in the gallery.”

You folded your arms across your chest. “Fine, but I was gonna show up either way.”

“See, that’s what I like about you.” You were too busy blushing to notice that Mingyu had already made his way between your legs and was hovering over you. He peeled the blanket off from your body and put it over the head of your couch. Tapping your knee, he said, “Now, open up, beautiful. Since you were doing so good for me, I’ll make it up to you.”

It was the next day around noon, and the remaining ten boxes of Connect Fours arrived at your door in another giant package. You texted Soonyoung that he could come pick them up (and wait for you to open the door).

You still hadn’t cleared things up from yesterday when he walked in on you and Mingyu, so you weren’t sure how to look him in the eye without feeling absolute shame. Not only that, but the guilt from your lie had been swirling in your chest constantly now that you were hit with the reality that Soonyoung had already perceived your strange friends with benefits relationship with Mingyu.

After you spent practically the entire day with Mingyu yesterday, even driving him to 7-Eleven for munchies at 3 a.m., you ended up getting the green light from him to tell Soonyoung everything. He knew that the guilt was weighing on your chest, and you both concurred that you would feel much better after coming clean.

After all, Soonyoung was one of your best friends, and you didn’t want him to keep deceiving him, no matter how big or insignificant your lie was to him.

When Soonyoung arrived at your door, making sure to knock three times, he greeted you with his usual cheery smile.

“Hey,” he said with an awkward edge to his voice. “Proud of me? I knocked this time.”

You went over this conversation about a million times in your head, thinking of different possible scenarios and outcomes that could happen. For each one, though, there was no eloquent way to bring up your lie without you sounding like you were overcompensating by rambling.

Just rip the bandage off, you told yourself.

It was hard to find the words, though, and your brain couldn’t figure out how to smoothly deliver the news.

Soonyoung looked like he didn’t know what to do, considering you had been staring blankly at him for several seconds without saying anything. “Is this a bad time?” he asked after a pause.

You shook your head quickly. “No, I have something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

You gestured for him to come inside, and Soonyoung took off his shoes before walking into your apartment. You felt yourself flush when he intentionally avoided sitting on your couch and just stood between your hallway and living room.

Soonyoung liked to joke around most of the time, but even he could tell that you were trying to bring up something serious. His arms were folded across his chest, the bewilderment in his eyes coalescing into sympathy. You intended for this to be honest, clear communication, but your breath was getting short and your eyes were darting to your feet before you could even get the words out.

This was deeper than your lie. You could admit that you were a liar, but something inside you withered at the very thought of admitting that there was something going on between you and Mingyu. Something that crossed the line of platonic friendship but kept its distance from romance.

So, before anything else, you blurted out, “I lied about being a virgin. Mingyu and I didn’t have sex.”

Your voice was thick with emotion. For a moment, your friend just stared at you, unblinking.

“Huh?” He sounded utterly confused as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t want to make things awkward and bring it up, but didn’t I walk in on you and Mingyu yesterday?”

“No, I’m talking about the time I told you I had sex with Mingyu.”

“In the library?”

“Yes.”

“So you guys didn’t have sex?”

“Well, technically we did, but—”

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Soonyoung said, pausing before he continued, “so, you’re a virgin?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I was a virgin, but now I’m not. The timeline got fucked.”

“Wait, so, you were a virgin when you told me you weren’t a virgin,” he recounted, to which you nodded in response, and you could tell a few of the pieces in his head fit together when he finished, “and then you lost your virginity.” You nodded again to affirm his statement and your friend let a low-pitched whistle slip. “Wow, that is some crazy lore.”

Fiddling with your fingers, you asked, “Are you mad that I lied to you guys?”

“Mad? No way,” he said. “Like, sure, I don’t really understand why you lied. I guess you had your own reasons. It’s not like it’s a bad thing to be a virgin. There’s no way I’d be mad over something like that, though.”

“I was worried because I thought you hated liars,” you explained, and although you didn’t mention his ex-girlfriend, it seemed as though Soonyoung knew exactly what you were talking about.

“I care about lies that hurt, and, hey, you told me eventually,” he said. “I’m not gonna hold it against you for not telling me about something you weren’t ready to share.”

He worried at his lower lip before adding, “You didn’t lose it to Mingyu because of what I said, right?”

You felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders, and your breathing steadied. You didn’t even realize how fast your heart was beating until you could feel every muscle in your body relax.

“No, of course not.” You finally cracked a smile. “To be honest, when you guys grilled us about it in the library, it did set things in motion. I don’t regret any of it, though—except lying to you guys about it. I’ve been wanting it to happen for a while now.”

“Good. You should probably tell the others when you’re ready, too.” He gave you a warm smile before amusement seeped back into his eyes. He turned to pick up the large package of Connect Fours and said, “Congrats to you and Mingyu, by the way. I always knew you two would get together.”

You nearly got whiplash from how fast you turned your neck. “Soonyoung—what?”

“Yeah, I mean, he’s been crazy for you ever since freshman year. I figured he would eventually grow a pair and ask you out,” he elaborated. Once Soonyoung hoisted the box up and turned around to look at you, he froze when he saw the dumbfounded look on your face. “Oh, shit. You’re not dating him, are you?”

“No, Soonyoung. No, I’m not.”

“Oh… my bad.”

Around twenty minutes after Soonyoung’s slip-up, you decided you would go with him to Kappa Sigma’s “Beerlympics,” which you hadn’t exactly been banking on showing up to. When you were informed about it yesterday, you had to research online to make sure that no, Soonyoung wasn’t speaking some alien language.

You never really understood half the things Soonyoung and Jungwoo talked about in relation to their fraternity. It usually went in one ear and out the other. It was always something about chapter meetings, pledges, and the sort of nonsense that made you wonder if you two were even living in the same world.

Before you decided to go, Soonyoung had to guide you to the couch to sit down and process your thoughts, which you figured was a great feat for him considering he was still traumatized from walking in on you and Mingyu.

Even after you stared blankly at the wall, though, you still couldn’t fathom the thought of Kim Mingyu liking you all these years. And, you didn’t outwardly admit it to Soonyoung, but the thought of your best friend liking you back made you inexplicably happy.

After you quickly changed into more appropriate clothing, Soonyoung and you walked over to frat row, passing by several large fraternity houses before arriving at the male-infested Beerlympics event. Your friend was still carrying his box of Connect Fours, which kept rattling as you two walked.

Yesterday, you were considering not going, mostly because you committed to going to Mingyu’s exhibition today, too. He had texted you the details, informing you that it would be early in the evening, so you weren’t going to spend longer than a few hours at Kappa Sigma.

Plus, now that Soonyoung had accidentally revealed the feelings Mingyu was harboring for you, confessing to him was weighing heavy on your mind. You desperately needed to tell your friends about your feelings before you ended up self-combusting.

In a matter of minutes, you were sitting between Vernon and Jungwoo on the couch, watching Minghao and Soonyoung shotgun a Coors Light. The box of Connect Fours was currently being used as a drink stand.

“You just came back from Vegas,” you told them, “and you’re already hosting a Beerlympics?”

“What did you expect us to do? We only drank hard alcohol in Vegas,” Jungwoo explained. “It’s only right that we come back and drink beer.”

You rolled your eyes, incredulous. “You guys can’t be serious.”

“By the way,” Vernon started, “is Mingyu coming? I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“You went to the gym with him yesterday,” Minghao pointed out.

“And that was in the past.”

Soonyoung cleared his throat once he was done with his beer. “Speaking of Mingyu… Y/N has something to tell you guys.”

“Right.” You cleared your throat before announcing, “I’ve gathered you all here today because someone said something he wasn’t supposed to.”

“And that someone was me,” Soonyoung mumbled, dejected.

“Wait,” Jungwoo interrupted, “we need context.”

Although you talked to Minghao before about the pact between you and Mingyu, you still hadn’t explained the whole ordeal to Vernon, Jungwoo, and Soonyoung. As you rambled on about how Mingyu proposed the idea and you two started becoming friends with benefits, Soonyoung’s face fell more and more as he realized he had royally fucked up. Vernon, on the other hand, despite having been kept in the dark this entire time, kept a placid expression on his face while the other three boys lost their shit.

You went on to explain the whiteboard, the notebook, how scared you were about ruining your friendship with Mingyu, and how Soonyoung walked in on you two and accidentally revealed that Mingyu had been crushing on you for a while.

“There’s no way you actually wrote all that down on a whiteboard,” Soonyoung said with an incredulous laugh. When Minghao pointed out that your whiteboard (that you still hadn’t returned to the community room) was literally in the living room, your friend cried, “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that!”

“Yeah, it was front and center when you walked in on Mingyu and I,” you said.

“To be fair, Mingyu’s ass was very distracting.”

You folded your arms across your chest, staring the four boys down. “Okay, well, that’s my side of what happened. It’s your turn to spill what you know.”

They all looked at each other warily before Vernon decided to break it down for you. He explained how Mingyu had been crushing on you ever since you two were in the same orientation group, and your breath caught in your throat because that was exactly when you also found him cute. Apparently, since you had become good friends with Soonyoung and Minghao shortly after (and later, their respective roommates: Jungwoo and Vernon), Mingyu didn’t try to read into your closeness too much.

All of the pieces were connecting in your head—all of the little moments and things he said that you brushed off as a coincidence. Every realization was like a firefly in your head, flickering and blinking under dim light until it shone bright and clear in total darkness.

Every time he called you beautiful. Every time he kissed you. Every time he looked at you like you were all he wanted.

Mingyu saying he wanted his first time to be with someone special wasn’t just a previous notion of his that he discarded once you two made the pact. You were the someone special he wanted to be with.

And god, if only he knew how badly you wanted to be with him right now.

“Alright, Y/N, do not tell Mingyu about any of this,” Soonyoung warned. “I’ve survived Jungwoo’s stupid ‘ecstasy water’—fuck you for that health violation of a drink, by the way—and I’m not letting Kim Mingyu be the reason why I end up six feet under.”

“I’m gonna have to tell him I found out from you, Soonyoung,” you argued. “There would literally be no other way for me to find out if it wasn’t from one of you guys.”

Vernon was quiet before he suggested, “What if we throw Jungwoo under the bus?”

“Yo, that’s hella smart,” Soonyoung praised before giving Vernon a high-five.

“I would prefer not to be thrown under the bus, thank you,” Jungwoo deadpanned.

“We are not throwing Jungwoo under the bus,” you agreed. “Besides, there’s been something that I’ve been thinking about for a while, too.” You paused to pour a shot for yourself, downing the contents of your red solo cup in one go. Wringing your hands together, you confessed, “I think I like Mingyu.”

“Oh, wow.” Jungwoo nearly choked over his words and held out his cup to you. “Pour me a shot, too. I’m gonna need it.”

Minghao decided to take over, asking, “As a person?”

“As a… man.”

“Well, men are people—sometimes.”

You groaned, unlacing your fingers to drop your face into your hands. You couldn’t believe you were saying this at the Kappa Sigma house, of all places.

“I—well, yeah, obviously. I just… okay, the point is, I sort of realized I really like him, and I was scared because I don’t know how this is gonna affect the group dynamic.” You felt your face growing hot as you talked about it, but you continued, “I wasn’t going to say anything, but what you guys just told me changes things, I think. I feel like I really need to tell him how I feel, if that’s okay with you guys.”

(You took another shot.)

You had never said the words out loud—not even to yourself. Your emotions felt more real now that they were out in the open for your friends to hear. Amidst all the booming music and drunken shouts in the house, your friends were silent.

“Why’re you asking us for permission?” Jungwoo finally spoke up. “We aren’t gonna be dicks and say you shouldn’t ask him out just so we can keep our friend group as it is. Just ask him out.”

(Another shot.)

“What he said,” Vernon agreed. “If Mingyu’s crush on you didn’t affect our friendship for four years and your crush on him didn’t make things weird, then I don’t see why you have to hide how you feel.”

(You gulped down your fourth shot.)

By the time Minghao started harping on about how you should be following your heart, you were starting to feel the alcohol settle. It ran through your veins, thick like molasses, until you felt sluggish. Then, spurred by your determination to confess your feelings, you rose up to your feet.

“I’m gonna do it,” you breathed out.

“When?” Soonyoung asked.

“Now.” You stopped to gather your belongings—your phone from the Connect Four box and your bag from the couch. “I’m gonna go see him.”

“Let’s call you an Uber,” Jungwoo said, and when he realized he was probably the most sober out of his friends, he dragged himself off the couch. Apparently, he was drinking in moderation after nearly getting alcohol poisoning in Vegas and dealing with a nasty hangover. “Okay, I’ll call you an Uber.”

Jungwoo walked you outside, waiting with you on the sidewalk until your Uber arrived. He recounted some of the highlights of his weekend in Vegas to you, and you listened intently even though you could feel your heartbeat drumming in your ears. You weren’t sure if it was because you were intoxicated or your nerves over potentially confessing your feelings to Mingyu.

When your Uber pulled into the driveway—a white SUV that was large enough for you to assume that Jungwoo accidentally booked an Uber XL.

As you were getting into the passenger’s seat, Jungwoo held the door open long enough to tell you, “Hey, I’ll let you in on a little secret: Mingyu never really cared for watching movies until he met you.”

While your Uber driver took you to your destination in silence, you were certain your heart was glowing brighter than any sunset out there.

The gallery was empty when you arrived—eerily quiet. A long, white table sat at the foyer where the front desk was. Plates of what you suspected had cookies on them were left littered with crumbs. The gallery assistant seated at the front desk must have been a student working part-time because her nose was buried in a textbook, hardly noticing you walking inside the building.

Your buzz was wearing off by now and your stomach had dropped in a deep pit when you realized that you were late. You swore you had timed it right. Mingyu told you to be there at 5 p.m., and yes, you were twenty minutes late, but you didn’t expect the whole venue to be cleared out.

Maybe everyone else was just late. That had to be it, right?

When you tried to look up Mingyu’s location on Find My Friends, he was miles away and looked as if he was on a trail.

You decided to call him, wondering why he hadn’t texted you yet. You were too disoriented in the car to give him a heads up, but he would normally text you, anyway.

After three rings, he picked up. “Hello?”

“Mingyu!” you cried in a hushed voice. “Am I late? Did you leave already? I can’t see anyone here.”

“Where?” he asked. “Uh, if you’re talking about Beerlympics, I didn’t go because I had a project due tonight.”

“No, the gallery. You said it started at five, right?”

Mingyu was silent for what seemed like forever before he stifled a laugh. “You mean the gallery opening tomorrow night?”

You had never sobered up so quickly.

While Mingyu was laughing at you on the other end of the line, you were pulling up your text messages to confirm that he had given you the wrong details. Instead, you were met with the horrifying realization that you just read the invite wrong.

“I mean, you can still see my work while you’re there,” he continued. “I think they’ve already switched out their old art.”

You groaned. “I’m so stupid.”

You roamed around the gallery as Mingyu told you about his day, looking at all of the art pieces that were submitted. After you took some pictures of various paintings and sculptures that were on display, your eyes fell upon a sunset photograph hung up on the wall.

The very photograph you came here for.

You had seen gorgeous sunsets before, but you had never seen pictures that did them any justice. What Mingyu had captured, though, was absolutely breathtaking.

Over the foliage, the sky was a wonderful blend of oranges, yellows, pinks, and purples. The great ball of light dipped below the horizon, peeking out just enough to see its wonderful color. The rays of sunlight reached out past the frame, illuminating the treetops and the current of water that ran to the side.

To the right, you saw Mingyu’s placard fixed to the wall, hanging proud next to its photograph.

Kim Mingyu You’re My Sunset 2023 The sun’s last kiss to the sky. If there’s a world where I can watch sunsets forever, I hope she’s there with me.

“—so I’m pretty sure I’m gonna get a C on the quiz because he made us write out our code on paper. My handwriting is dogshit, so I hope he has a fun time reading mine.” He trailed off when he realized you went silent on the other end. “Y/N?”

“Where are you?” you asked, a touch distracted as your eyes drank in the words etched onto the placard.

“Huh? I’m on that hiking trail near the freshman dorms,” he said. “I was gonna go watch the sunset, if you wanted to come see it with me.”

And because you were so helplessly in love with him, it was easier than breathing to say, “I’d love to watch the sunset with you.”

It took you one more Uber and forty minutes to find Mingyu where he was waiting for you. You told him not to walk all the way back down to meet you, so you made your journey to the top on your own. You were definitely not dressed for a hike, but sunset was coming soon and you didn’t have time to stop at your apartment to change.

You waved once you saw him, biting back your smile because you didn’t want to look overly-excited to see him. He had probably been outside for a while, judging by the sheen of sweat that made his biceps glisten under the setting sun.

“You made it just in time,” he said. “Sunset’s in a few.”

Your chest heaved as you recovered from your hike up. It had been ages since you worked out properly, so part of you was glad that you didn’t let Mingyu go back down and fetch you. You surely would have had to make him stop several times for you to take a breather.

He was sitting on a large, flat rock—so smooth that it was probably the perfect spot on the entire mountain to watch a sunset. Mingyu scooted over so that you had room and you sat down right next to him, knees knocking and shoulders brushing against his.

You had never seen anything as formidably beautiful as the view before you. The sun had started to dip below the horizon, glowing a spectacular orange. Muted colors of blue and gray vanished like a skip, blurring into colors more intense, more breathtaking. Oranges and yellows blend into the canvas of the sky, soon blending with pink and red hues that made the clouds look like the seventh heaven.

It felt like the sun was setting, calling the stars out just for you two. It cast its rays onto the lake below, leaving the surface glittering with millions of golden sparkles.

This was the sight that reminded Mingyu of you.

For a while, you two just watched the sky wordlessly until you started, “I saw your—”

“What if we watched the entire Marvel Cinematic Universe for our next marathon?” he asked at the same time, but his words were stronger—more purposeful—so you answered him instead.

“We still haven’t finished our Barbie marathon,” you said. “We’re still on Barbie and the Diamond Castle.”

“But… when we finish.”

You hummed. “How long does it take to finish all of the Marvel movies?”

You tried to mentally note down all of the titles you knew with the limited knowledge you had of the Marvel cinematography. You were pretty sure you watched a good amount of them—the big ones that broke records in theaters—but you never tried watching them in order.

“Seventy hours and forty-six minutes. I checked.”

“We’d be marathoning forever.”

He smiled. “It wouldn't be the end of the world if we marathoned forever.”

You laughed, loud and clear. It was almost ridiculous to think of you and Mingyu in your fifties, sitting on a couch and watching yet another movie marathon in the measly hours of free time you had between work and other responsibilities.

And then it hit you. Your heart jumped to your throat.

You and Mingyu, doing the same things you did now in your fifties. You and Mingyu, sitting on a couch and watching another marathon together. You and Mingyu, swamped with work and responsibilities but still spending time with each other amidst all that.

You and Mingyu.

Your lungs were trees and there was a forest fire. It tore its way through each leaf, each branch, and it felt like that fire would burn forever. Burn until the sky had no sun and the world was in ruins. You couldn’t think straight as your heart raced and your breath got caught in your throat.

“Forever?” you asked in a small voice.

Mingyu’s eyes softened, more sincere and longing in them. At this point, he had gone pink beneath his golden skin. He moved his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, but all you could focus on was how the last rays of the evening shone on your best friend’s face. He was painted with sunset.

“Yeah, forever,” he confirmed. “I guess this is my way of confessing, so… Y/N, my forever marathoner, my sunset, will you go out with me?”

You were choked up at what felt like the worst possible time to be malfunctioning. “Sunset—”

“You saw it, right? The dedication next to my sunset picture?” he asked. “You finally realized that I’ve been in love with you for the past four years?”

He said the words so casually, as if he was telling you the color of the sky. But you could feel the weight settle in—the years of longing and pining.

This time, instead of just craning your neck, you turned your whole body to face him. The way he looked at you sent butterflies to your stomach, but your eyebrows pulled into a frown. You were sure that you couldn’t have possibly let it slip to him that Soonyoung told you everything.

“How did you… how did you know?”

He grinned, leaning back a little on his hands. “Before you got here, Soonyoung drunk FaceTimed me and started apologizing for exposing my four-year crush on you. He also apologized for assuming that I had the balls to ask you out.”

You scoffed a little, recalling how Soonyoung was practically begging you not to tell Mingyu yourself. It only made sense that he would be the one to fess up after all that alcohol got into his system. You made a mental note to call him out on this very moment the next time you saw him.

“Things get messy when someone likes someone else in the friend group, you know?” he continued, looking over the cliffside for a moment before turning back to you. “But, with you, I don’t think I mind things getting a little messy.”

“Do you remember when Jungwoo told you I found you cute, and I told him I really said something else?” he went on, turning his head away this time. He sounded more shy when he admitted, “Beautiful. I called you beautiful.”

“I just…” You faltered, trying to work up the courage to look him in the eye. When you did, the melted amber swirling in his eyes nearly made you stammer. “I didn’t expect any of this.”

Mingyu must have mistook your nerves for hesitation because he immediately said, “It’s all good, Y/N. I just wanted to come clean to you. You don’t have to answer—”

“No, Mingyu,” you cut him off, breathing out the words with an edge of desperation, “I didn’t expect this because I came here to ask you out.”

It was his turn to be shell-shocked. Mingyu’s pink lips parted in surprise, mouth opening and closing like he wanted to say something, but he clearly hadn’t even thought of this outcome. You watched his Adam’s apple bob nervously.

He looked at your lips, then your eyes, then your lips again. He lifted his hand to touch your cheek, fingers spreading so that he could cradle your jaw. He looked transfixed, looking at you like you were far more captivating than the sunset that was playing out for you two. His eyes fluttered shut once he closed the distance and his lips met yours.

If you were his sunset, Mingyu was your sunrise. Every time he kissed or touched you, you felt warmth spread through your whole body, making you beam brighter than any star in the galaxy.

He pulled back, but he was still so close that his nose was touching yours, both of your ragged, uneven breaths mixing in the tight space between you two. He held the back of your head and pressed your foreheads together, a gesture of his that always made you feel like you were soaring.

Your voice failed you as Mingyu’s calloused hands bunched up the fabric of your shirt to glide down your back, tracing the bumps down your spine and gripping tighter once he reached your hips. It was like he was charting a map of your body, taking note of every little curve and dip he came across.

“W-we’re outside,” you stuttered out.

���No one’s gonna catch us. I wanna show you how I feel every time I look at you,” he murmured in a low voice that only you could hear. “Lay down for me, Y/N. I want you to watch the last of the sunset while I show you how much I love you.”

You didn’t reply, mostly because you wanted to let your actions speak for you. You pulled him in for a short, chaste kiss before you scooted up on the rock and laid down for him. The solid surface was uncomfortable at first, but then Mingyu had you get up for a moment so that he could spread his jacket out for you. You laid back down and looked up, gasping when you realized you had a perfect view of the setting sun.

Mingyu tugged down your shorts and underwear, making sure to carefully fold them and set them aside instead of just discarding them somewhere. Now that you could feel the coolness against your bare skin, you were grateful that his jacket was under you. He pulled his sweatpants down past his hips and hovered over you, eyes flickering up to meet yours. They were hazy, swimming with lust, but you could see his sincere adoration, too. He refused to kiss you because he didn’t want to obstruct your view of the sunset.

“Are you ready?” he asked, lifting his middle and ring finger to his lips and licking them for extra lubrication.

You sucked in a sharp breath at that. “Please—yes.”

Slowly, Mingyu pushed his fingers inside of you, watching you bite your lip and screw your eyes shut with an amused half-smile. His thumb worked slow circles on your clit while his fingers were nestled in you.

“Open your eyes, beautiful,” he instructed. “You’re gonna miss the sunset.”

Finding a steady pace was no problem for Mingyu at all. He watched you squirm and moan underneath him as his fingers slid in and out of your cunt. His knuckles were glistening with your arousal, and Mingyu stared at where they disappeared inside you with unfocused eyes. He curled his fingers inside you ever-so-slightly, passing over your g-spot, and you arched your back at the feeling.  

His name stuttered past your lips, coming out so raw and passionate that all the blood rushed to Mingyu’s cock. His boxers were tented, and you were once again intimidated by how huge he was. His bulge brushed against your thigh as he plunged his fingers into you.

You felt limp under his touch, but just when you felt prickles of heat under your skin, Mingyu’s fingers slid out of you. You nearly cried out over his false promise of a release as you dug your nails into his shoulders.

“The sky,” he whispered. Like it was instinct, he licked his fingers clean without batting an eye. An embarrassed rush of heat sank into your cheeks. “I need to be inside you for the rest of the sunset. Fuck, I don’t have a condom on me.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck loosely. “That’s okay. You can just pull out.” You looked straight into his eyes and said, “I trust you, Gyu.”

“Go raw? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, we can just get Plan B tomorrow, if anything.”

Kim Mingyu looked like he could die a happy man then and there.

He tugged down his boxers, letting his cock spring up and slap the underside of his belly. It was already huge and flushed with beads of precum collecting at his slit. Mingyu shuddered almost immediately when the cool air hit him.

He spread your legs with his large hands, and you swallowed thickly before Mingyu started rubbing the head of his cock along your slit. He made sure to smear the arousal between your legs to your clit. The last rays of the sun shone on his face, and you could see the glint of hunger in his eyes.

At this point, you were nearly begging for him, so Mingyu started pushing into you carefully. His brows were pinched and his bottom lip was sucked into his teeth while he worked his way into you, his eyes glinting with utter focus.

It was so different without the condom. Intense. Hot. The drag of his cock inside you made you falter, absolutely loving the new friction and texture you were feeling.

You swallowed down your gasp with a shuddering breath. Your tight expression slowly relaxed as Mingyu’s cock worked its way inside you. Every time you wanted to close your eyes, you snapped them back open to catch a glimpse of the blurry hues above.

“That’s it,” he cooed, the praise only turning you on more. “You feel so good.”

He started circling your clit with his thumb again, getting your walls to relax so that you immediately took more of him in. Mingyu’s cock twitched inside of you, causing that one muscle in your leg to twitch. You weren’t sure how long you were going to be able to last if he kept teasing you like this.

When his head dipped into your opening, you sucked in a breath, but he did not enter just yet. Your hips bucked up against his, and Mingyu held them down so that he could position himself without slipping out of you. A sound that was between a deep chuckle and a grunt rumbled in his chest at your eagerness.

With little preamble, Mingyu started pushing deeper into you, letting himself sink while his breathing grew short. His cock brushed sensitive spots inside you that left your toes curling and your vision going blotchy. You watched the sky grow darker and darker, vibrant orange colors blending into deep reds.

A debauched moan bubbled past your lips once Mingyu started fucking into you slowly. Each roll of his hips brought a blinding wave of pleasure that left behind a sheen of sweat coating your body. The initial sting of penetration dissolved quickly into pleasure.

You dragged your nails down his well-defined back muscles, sighing blissfully with each thrust of Mingyu’s hips. His back muscles flexed underneath your hand as his cock worked in and out of you. He tucked his face into the crook of your neck and moaned along with you, and the look in his eyes told you that all he wanted to do was kiss you, but he was adamant on making you see the sun.

“Oh my god!” you cried out once Mingyu used his free hand to lift your leg over his hip, getting a better angle so that he could plunge into you. Blinking away tears, you were nearly sobbing when you said, “I… I didn’t say it back, Gyu. I love you, too. God, I’ve loved you back for so long, too.”

All the lust in Mingyu’s gaze had melted away, being replaced by the most loving gaze you had seen in his shining eyes. He leaned down to kiss you slow—a completely different pace from how he had been fucking you. When he pulled away, he kept his lips at the shell of your ear, whispering sweet nothings.

With his hips snapping into you at a near-animalistic pace, you were quickly reaching your peak. Mingyu seemed to take notice and rubbed your clit faster to catch you up to speed. Heat spread under your skin, making each nerve ending feel like it was on fire.

“There,” he gasped out after he turned his gaze up for a moment. “Do you see it? The sun kissing the sky?”

He had been waiting so long for you, pining so hard, that when your orgasm ripped through you, Mingyu came almost immediately after. He groaned before pulling out of you, his strained expression melting quickly into bliss once his release came. It seemed as though Mingyu didn’t want to get you dirty, so he shot his load to the side where he could hide it easily.

You looked up, and you finally saw how devastatingly beautiful the sunset was with its palette of colors exploding across the sky.

Reds. Oranges. Dying glimpses of yellows. You felt like you were experiencing a sensory overload with how the colors mixed and blended together while Mingyu was helping you ride out your orgasm.

This was it. This was the seventh heaven.

While you were still twitching from your intense orgasm, Mingyu sat up so that he could fix his pants, his chest rising and falling in tune with yours. You were still sprawled out on the rock, watching the last rays of sunlight dip below the horizon. The previously colorful sky had been drowned out by black and blue, but it was still bright enough to make out your surroundings.

“I never answered you properly,” you said after you caught your breath. The clouds rolled out of view, revealing the illuminated moon that shone down on you two. You sat up, meeting Mingyu’s curious gaze and declaring, “I’d love to go out with you.”

You had never really been able to fully understand what love was. It had been a foreign concept to you for years. When Mingyu smiled brightly and kissed you again, though, it had never been so clear to you.

You honestly felt bad for the librarian.

As soon as you and Mingyu walked into the library hand-in-hand, you heard a chorus of groans from your friend group’s table. They were all jeering at you like they hadn’t been the ones convincing you to ask out Mingyu a few days ago. This time, Ryujin was also mocking you with them.

(You had asked her to show up so that you could give her the Smiski figurine she had delivered to your house. You had no idea why your friends kept ordering things and using your address for delivery.)

Soonyoung cupped his hands over his mouth and yelled, “Get a room!”

“We’re just holding hands!” Mingyu exclaimed. “You’re acting like we’re in the Victorian ages.” He waved his hand to get Soonyoung to move. “Give me some room so we can work on our project together.”

You giggled and took your seat next to Mingyu, your pinkies interlocked under the table. You were sure the honeymoon phase would wear off in a few months, but for now, you couldn’t get enough of each other. Of course, you kept most of your PDA behind closed doors so that your friends would taunt you, but you were happy with that.

Speaking of your friends, they were all over-the-moon when you and Mingyu announced that you were dating. Ryujin had screamed into your ear so loudly that you were pretty sure you experienced temporary hearing loss.

You and Mingyu also finally returned the whiteboard to the community room after erasing all of the sexual terminology on it. You two were surprised that you actually managed to knock out everything on both lists that hadn’t been canceled. Apparently, Jeonghan had been distressed over the whiteboard’s disappearance and filed a complaint to get a new one. He got his happy ending, too, when you and Mingyu rolled it back into the room.

“Y/N, Mingyu,” Jungwoo called. “Body counts—go!”

Mingyu blinked. “One?” he deadpanned. “Why would it be higher than that, dude?”

It was your turn now, with all eyes on you. Before, you wondered why you even felt the need to lie about something like that. It had all seemed like such a silly concern back then, but now you realized that there had never been a rush to lose your v-card.

Now, you could confidently say, “One.”

Because Kim Mingyu’s Guide To Losing Your Virginity really was effective.

mingyu: hey mingyu: what happens when we finish the marvel marathon

y/n: wdym

mingyu: like what do we do with our lives mingyu: 70 hours and 46 minutes mingyu: it has to end eventually mingyu: we’ve been marathoning all this time with no foreseeable end until now

y/n: what did we do before the marvel marathon

mingyu: the barbie marathon

y/n: and what did we do before that

mingyu: the disney princesses marathon

y/n: and before that

mingyu: the saw marathon

y/n: exactly y/n: we will keep marathoning for as long as marathons exist

mingyu: is that your way of saying we’re forever?

y/n: yes it is

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ if you made it all the way to the end, MUAH! thank you so much for reading !! and thank you to everyone who asked to be on the tag list, i was so floored by the love you guys showed the teaser ♡ first and foremost, i have to shoutout fia for being the reason i changed my magic mike joke to magic mingyu. i would also like to shoutout mingyu for existing because his existence is the reason why this came into fruition. also shoutout to you for reading this because wow!!! you sat through all those words??? i am so honored, really :’) i hope you enjoyed this, thank you for being on this rollercoaster with me, and i hope you look forward to my future works

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