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m0etenchandon · 5 years ago

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Romantic Getaway (Reader x Gwil x Ben smut)

Pairing: Reader x Gwilym Lee x Ben Hardy Summary: The boys spend an entire week getting you sexually frustrated, and after the tennis match a couple of weeks later, they have an idea you can´t refuse. Warnings: SMUT (18+), threesome, teasing, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, dom!Gwilym, some sub!Ben and featuring a tiny bit of jealous!Joe Word count: 11K

Masterlist

This is pure filth and you are not allowed to read it if you´re under 18. I will block you if I catch minors interacting with this story.

The second you stepped out of the plane in France, you were hit with the warm summer air. It was almost too hot. The sun felt scorching against your skin and you scrambled to locate your sunglasses in the bottom of the bag. Of course they were at the bottom, it was just your luck. Really, you shouldn´t complain though. You had somehow managed to join Ben and Gwilym on their press trip. Cognac wasn´t really your thing per se, but it was an opportunity you weren´t going to turn down. Even though it meant the two boys had lied and told the arrangers you were their manager. You were fine living with a lie for the next week. Surely, they could teach you some acting skills so you could fool everyone.

You turned around just in time to see Ben take a selfie with Gwilym in the background. He was biting down on his bottom lip, and if it weren´t from his sunglasses, the picture would clearly show him squinting his eyes. Ben´s hair looked golden in the sunlight, and you could also definitely see some stubble on his top lip and chin. He wasn´t able to grow out a full beard like Gwilym, but a boy can dream.

Speaking of Gwilym, the man didn´t have time to react before Ben snapped the picture, yet he still managed to look effortlessly sexy. His hair was slightly messed up by the wind, his deep blue eyes concealed by his sunglasses.

The both of them were gorgeous, there was no denying that. They always looked good. It was a struggle really being friends with them. There was always a lingering sexual tension in the air accompanied by looks and touches that lasted a little bit too long. Not to mention when Joe was there too. The three of you always ganged up on the poor guy, but you knew he secretly loved it. However, maybe not the fact that he was missing this trip. That was happens when you live across the Atlantic. It was always a blast when you saw Joe. One time you even ended up almost sleeping with him before realizing what you were doing. Needless to say, there were a lot of drinks involved. Specifically, tequila. But, you still remember the way he grabbed your ass and poured all his energy into the kiss. The way his stubble rubbed against your face. You never spoke about it, but you both certainly spent your time thinking about it. A lot of time.

“Are you trying to fuck the camera, Ben? Bloody hell that lip bite oof I´m sweating”, you teased, stopping and putting your hands on your hips. The rest of the group was waiting for everyone to get off the small plane before getting into cabs.

“Aaw, are you jealous, Y/N?”, Ben asked. He winked at you and you hated the fact that your pulse immediately went up.

“You wish”, you mumbled. You definitely were. You might have been able to fool them, but not yourself. “It´s just the heat”

“Stop flirting and let me see the photo”, Gwilym said, walking up to Ben. He ducked his head to see the brightly lit screen. “Ah come on, mate! You caught me off guard, I look awful”

“Well I think you look handsome, Gwil. Besides, Ben´s the one who looks awful in this picture. He looks like he just smelled something really bad”, you said, winking at the tall man in front of you.

“I just caught a whiff of you, love”, Ben said, “but relax, I´m just sending it to Joe”

“Rude”, you said, pushing his shoulder. A smile tugged at your lips though, you knew he was only joking.

“Ah ok. Go ahead then. Show that fucker what he´s missing out on”, Gwilym said. He gave you a kind smile and a quick peck on the cheek as a thank you for your compliment. It probably didn’t mean a lot to him, but you could already feel yourself getting even hotter. Heat rose to your cheeks and you blew out a breath of air.

“Did you just get all flustered, Y/N? I didn´t mean to overstep my boundaries”, Gwilym said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Nah it´s just the heat. You know I don´t mind”, you said, and thankfully the cabs arrived. You really didn´t want to continue the conversation.

The three of you took one cab for yourself. Obviously, you would eventually have to socialize with the other “influencers” on the trip, but for now you just wanted some time alone with your boys.

“What should the caption on the picture be?”, Ben asked, getting ready to send the picture to Joe. He had pushed the sunglasses up to his head so his golden curls hugged them, his green eyes meeting yours as he waited for a reply. What you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through his hair.

“What about wish you were here, handsome?”, you suggested with a smirk. You knew Ben and Gwilym hated the fact that you hooked up with Joe once. Or, they didn´t explicitly say it, but they got all jealous and protective whenever one of you brought it up.

“You kiss him once and now you think he is handsome?”, Gwilym said. Yup, there was definitely jealousy in the air.

“It was more than a kiss, Gwil. And besides, I told you literally a few minutes ago that you look handsome too”, you said, winking.

“What about me?”, Ben asked, forcing your attention away from Gwilym. You rolled your eyes.

“You too, Ben”

“Then why have you never kissed us?”, he asked. Oh, if only he knew how many times you´ve thought about it.

“The opportunity never struck”, you mumbled, shrugging. You definitely would have, given the chance.

“What was that, Y/N?”, Gwilym asked. Ok so they didn´t hear. That´s for the better, you guessed.

“Never mind”, you said, reaching for Ben´s phone. “Here, I´ll come up with something”

--- Joe replied just as you pulled up outside an old castle. You could hear Ben´s phone ding but you were far too preoccupied taking in the view. You had previously been briefed that you would do a sightseeing stop on your way to the hotel and this was it. The buildings in front of you were simply stunning, so beautiful you felt out of place. So romantic.

“Wow”, you said, looking around and taking it all in. Yep, you were definitely happy you agreed to come.

“Y/N! Joe said we have to try harder to get him jealous”, Ben said, following after you with his eyes glued to his phone. There was a whiny tone to his voice that went straight to your core. A shiver ran down your back.

“Can you take a picture of us?”, Gwilym asked.

“What? No, do it yourself”

“Come on, you work for us, remember?”, Ben said with a wink.

You groaned. The acting had to start now apparently. You shot him an annoyed smile before reaching your hand out in front of you, palm up. Ben placed his phone in it and went to stand next to Gwilym. They posed next to each other in a passway, backs against each other.

“You have to stand closer than that”, you said, snapping a photo. You knew Joe hated missing out, but he hated seeing Ben and Gwilym being affectionate even more. Also, you wanted to see them together too. Purely for selfish purposes.

Gwilym moved an arm around Ben and pulled him into his side. You took a photo.

“Even closer”, you said, “Just hug each other. That will drive him insane”

Yep, definitely for selfish purposes.

Ben laughed before wrapping his hands around the taller man´s waist. He rested his head against Gwilym´s cheek. Wow they really did look cute like that. What you wouldn´t give to be in between that sandwich though.

“Yes, just like that”, you said with a grin. You eagerly took several more pictures, having them make silly faces at the camera. Trying to ignore the tingle in your lower half. They just looked so good like this. You were pretty sure your legs were about to give in when Ben tilted his head slightly and Gwilym shot you one of his signature tight lipped smiles. The fact that you could see Ben´s new tattoo didn´t help either.

“Joe will be so pissed”, Ben giggled as you showed him the pictures. He chose the best one and sent it off to Joe.

---

You didn´t have anything planned for the rest of the night, but to be honest you were relived. It had been a long day of travelling and you desperately wanted some alone time to deal with the frustration that had built throughout the day watching Ben and Gwilym be all over each other. Thankfully, you had your own room.

You took a long, warm, shower. Just letting the water run down your body and the scented soap fill your nostrils. Hotel soap usually sucked, but this was a fancy hotel, so it was actually decent. There was some matching body lotion on the counter too, which you rubbed all over your body.

Wrapping a towel around your hair and the bathrobe around your body, you emerged from the bathroom to find both Ben and Gwilym lounging on your bed. Fuck. So much for alone time. They would only make your frustration worse.

They hadn´t noticed you appearing, too preoccupied with their phones. You rolled your eyes and coughed, immediately feeling two pairs of eyes raking all over your body. The robe was long, so you were pretty well covered. Well except for the low neckline. You adjusted it and raised your eyebrows.

“Guys, what are you doing here?”, you asked, walking over to your suitcase and started picking out an outfit to wear. Your plans of staying in bed naked all night had gone out the window.

“Joe still isn´t jealous. Or at least he says he isn’t”, Ben whined. God it was a beautiful noise.

“And?”, you asked, “Why should I care?”

You picked out a clean pair of underwear and added it to the pile of clothes in your hands.

“Well we thought of something else that might make him jealous and we need your uh- your help”, Gwilym said. Fucking hell how many more photos did they want?

“Ugh fine just let me get dressed and we can go out”, you said, turning and walking over to the bathroom only to be stopped by Ben.

“Wait, don´t! It uhm- we were thinking maybe you could be in this photo”, he said. There was a pink blush creeping up to his cheeks, making you squint your eyes.

“Ok? In what setting exactly?”

“Just hear us out on this one, ok?”, Gwilym said. He stood up and walked over to you, grabbing your hand in his. Oh, that felt nice.

“O-Ok”, you said. Gwilym gave you a bright smile before leading you over to the bed, sitting you down as Ben got up. They were both staring down at you which only made you more nervous. What the hell was going on?

“So, we know that Joe is pissed he never got to sleep with you, right?”, Ben said, to which you nodded in agreement. He had told the boys several times, and they of course had told you. It´s not like you didn´t regret it yourself so it was fine.

Wait, where was this going?

“Yeah and we were thinking that if we sent a photo of us eating you out or something that would really get to him”, he followed. What now? You were pretty sure your jaw was about to hit the ground.

“We don´t have to actually do anything. It´s just pretend”, Gwilym said, trying to calm your shocked state.

Oh. You felt kind of disappointed actually.

“Please say something, love”

“I-uhm, sure”, you said after a while. At least the image would come in handy when you were finally able to be alone.

“Ok great”, Ben said, a grin spreading over his face. “Uhm, if you go put on a pair of underwear we´ll get ready out here, ok?”

Your mind was racing as you walked on shaky legs towards the bathroom. Of course, Gwil and Ben had seen you in a bikini before, but this was different. This was lacy underwear. Which by the way left very little to the imagination.

Thankfully, you had settled on a matching black set. At least it wasn´t some old, washed out granny panties.

After putting it on and fixing your hair in the mirror, you walked out into your bedroom again only to find both Ben and Gwil shirtless next to your bed. Oh my god. Your eyes raked all over their bodies. Over Ben´s hard pecks and defined abs, over Gwilym´s long and toned torso. Both of them insanely hot in their own way.

“Bloody hell, Y/N”, Ben muttered under his breath. Oh. They were checking you out too. You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“So, what were you thinking?”, you asked, eager to relieve the tension in the air. One way or another.

“Uhm just grab Ben´s phone and lie down”, Gwilym instructed, gesturing towards the bed.

You took a deep breath and did like you were told. The only thing on your mind was their hungry looks and their nakedness. Even to the point you were operating on pure auto-pilot.

“Tell us to stop if you feel uncomfortable, ok, darling?”, Gwilym asked. You certainly didn´t want this to stop, so you just nodded and grabbed Ben´s phone.

The two boys knelt at the very edge of the bed. Ben reached out to place a hand on both of your thighs, slowly pulling your legs apart. You could hear them draw in a harsh breath when your heat was almost revealed to them, only the thin piece of lace leaving at least a little bit to their imagination.

“Ready?”, Ben asked, raising an eyebrow. He was so close you could feel his hot breath on your naked thigh. You felt dizzy, your heat getting damper and damper by the second. You were positive they could tell.

“Mhm”, you said, not trusting your voice. Gwilym smiled at you before leaning in and pressing his lips to the very edge of your panties, millimeters from your entrance. His beard was rubbing against the inside of your thighs, his lips soft against the sensitive skin. You knew, you just knew that your wetness was seeping onto his lips but right now you were too preoccupied with not passing out. Especially when Ben gave a kiss to your inner thigh, just below your knee.

They both looked up at you with cocky looks in their eyes. Shit, right. You were supposed to take pictures.

You hastily snapped several photos of them basically eye-fucking the camera and you definitely staring at them through the screen. You could just barely see the tops of their shoulders and chest and you couldn´t help but start to breathe heavily.

“Did you get them?”, Gwilym asked. His lips were still almost pressed to your heat, the vibrations in his deep voice enough to make you shudder.

“Y-yeah”, you said, having to fight back a whine when they pulled back. Ben reached for his phone to check out the photos as Gwilym gave your knee a kiss. You closed them and threw the blanket over you. It´s not like they hadn´t already seen a lot of you, too much even, but it was nice and warm.

“Thank you for doing this, darling”, Gwilym said. As he moved his lips you could see the side of his chin glisten. Holy shit. He had your pussy juice on his face.

“Oh my god you have- uhm let me get this”, you said, quickly sitting up and swiping your thumb over the wet patch. You collected your wetness before rubbing it onto the sheet. You were absolutely mortified. “Sorry about that”

“It´s alright. I´m flattered”, he said with a wink, and turned his focus to Ben´s phone. He had apparently found a good one and showed it to you, but you couldn´t focus on it. You just nodded while staring into your room. Oh my god. Gwilym had just been flattered that you were wet for him. Was he flirting? What was happening?

“You ok, Y/N?”, Ben asked, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah, I´m just tired”, you said. You weren´t exactly lying, you definitely were tired. Tired and very horny.

“Oh, ok. Well good night then, love. See you tomorrow”

“Sleep tight, darling”

You smiled at them before settling back into the warm bed. If it weren´t for your focus on how turned on you were you would have noticed how hard both Ben and Gwilym were as they picked up their shirts and left the room. Might even have heard them jack off through the wall if you had listened hard enough.

----

The following day was filled to the brim with activities so you didn´t really have time to talk to Ben and Gwilym in private about the events of last night. You even had breakfast with the other influencers, and you didn´t exactly want to ask what Joe had responded with in front of them. At least it meant that Gwilym had no opportunity to bring up the fact that you had definitely been wet when he kissed your inner thigh.

It didn´t exactly help that the two boys looked incredible in their outfits, your mind going straight back to what happened after they left your room last night. How you had gotten yourself off to the thought of fucking them. What you wouldn´t give to have that happen.

Around 5 pm you were told to go get ready for a fancy dinner at an estate. Luckily, you, Ben and Gwilym were the only three on your floor of the hotel. Or actually, it wasn´t a good thing because the second you stepped out of your room to catch up with them, your pulse rose significantly. If you thought they looked good earlier that day, they looked incredible now. Both of them had on well-fitting dress pants that accentuated their best features. Ben´s pants were a tighter fit than Gwilym´s, his thighs being hugged by the fabric. Gwilym´s pants were a bit too short but showed off his ankles. Who would have thought ankles would turn you on?

They both wore simple, but probably very expensive, white t-shirts tucked into their pants. Gwilym had put on a simple yet smart black cardigan that he had buttoned in the middle while Ben wore a grey fitted blazer. You almost couldn´t tear your eyes away, but slowly made your way up to their faces. They had obviously caught you staring, a smug look on both their lips. Fuck. Their hair was perfect too. Ben´s curls had finally started to grow out a bit after he cut it short, and they laid neatly on the top of his head. Gwilym had styled his in the usual quiff. Up and away from his face. His gorgeous face. And that beard that you had felt against your inner thigh last night.

“Earth to Y/N”, Ben said, waving his hand in front of your face. You snapped out of it and turned to face him. Feeling heat rush to your cheeks.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”, you asked.

“I said you look lovely”, he said with a smile. You felt both pairs of eyes rake over your body and take in your summer dress. It was a gorgeous yellow color with flowers printed all over it. Your boobs were on show as well as your legs.

“Oh, thank you”, you said. If you weren´t so turned on by them then maybe you could have actually stuttered out a proper reply. Instead, you just said they looked handsome and pressed the button for the elevator. God, why were you so awkward?

There was so much tension in the air when you all got in the elevator that you were sure you could cut it with a knife.

“So, what did Joe think about the picture last night?”, you asked, twiddling with your key-card. The two boys started laughing, which caused you to whip your head up to look at them.

“Oh he´s so jealous, love”, Ben said, winking. “He told us to stay off his girl”

“What? I´m not his girl”, you said, grateful that the tension had lifted slightly.

“He wishes you were”, Gwilym said. Sure, Joe was hot, but you couldn´t see yourself do more than sleep with him. Despite it being the subject of many of your wet dreams.

“Well he can keep wishing”, you mumbled.

“Also, he thought the photo was staged so we might need to do another one”, Ben said just as the elevator doors opened and you were met by the other influencers. Another one? Yeah, you would be down for that. Your mind already starting to race.

---

“Will you take a photo of just us, darling?”, Gwilym asked after they had done the group photo. Thankfully, you didn´t have to be in that because you were their manager. Or at least for the week.

“This is a step down from last night if you´re trying to get Joe jealous, you know”, you said, a smile tugging at your lips. You wanted to move on to more risqué ones.

“This is for Instagram”, Gwilym said, “And to give Joe some fomo. But, we´ll send a different one to him later. A more private one”

Gwilym whispered that last part into your ear, his breath so close to your skin that a shiver ran down your back. You almost dropped his phone at the sensation. Fuck. Wetness started to gather in your panties.

You took a deep breath and quickly snapped some photos of them leaning on each other and doing different poses. The best one was definitely one where Ben was stood two steps above Gwilym and had his arm resting on his shoulder. Gwilym looked up at Ben, his hands in his pockets. They looked ridiculously hot, but the thing that made your heart race was the fact that Ben was staring at you, his lips slightly parted.

“Did you get a good one?”, Ben asked, pulling you from your trance.

“Yeah! I´d certainly get jealous if I missed out on the two of you looking as handsome as this. 10/10 would bang”, you said.

“Really?”, Gwilym teased.

Both boys walked towards you while laughing, and you couldn´t help but take a few candid shots of them smiling.

“It´s the setting. Everyone would look good here”, you lied. You didn´t want them to know just how much you wanted to fuck them. Or maybe you did?

“I´m not so sure, love. Gwilym told me you got really excited when we had our little photoshoot yesterday”, Ben said. He locked his green eyes on yours, making you swallow. Hard.

“I-uhm. I- you interrupted my alone time”, you said in panic. It wasn´t necessarily a lie. You were about to play with yourself after all. “That´s why”

“So you didn´t like it?”, Gwilym asked. Both of them stepped closer and you were pretty sure you were about to pass out. Where was that confident girl who was here just seconds ago?

“Didn’t say that”, you mumbled. “Who wouldn´t like two gorgeous guys between their legs?”

“Are you down for another one then? One where you pretend to suck Ben off?”, Gwilym asked. There it was again. That pretend part. The part that stung.

“Sure”, you said with a shrug. At least it would give you something else to get off to.

The two boys smirked and started walking off towards where the dinner would be held. Neither of them mentioned their abrupt proposal through five courses. Of course, with matching cognac. That was why you were here after all. You just chatted away about normal, mundane, stuff while slowly getting more and more buzzed. It was probably out of order to get drunk at such a fancy restaurant, but they kept pouring you more whenever you finished your drink so really you had no choice.

You were pulled from a conversation with one of the other girls there by a strong hand on your thigh. The warmth from their palm spread up to your heat, causing you to excuse yourself and turn around. You were met by those beautiful deep blue eyes you knew so well.

“Come to the bathroom in two minutes, darling”, Gwilym whispered into your ear before leaving the table.

As he stood up, you noticed Ben was gone too. Right, he was the one you were going to suck off after all. Or, pretend to suck off that was. You couldn´t help but feel a wave of disappointment wash over you. Why couldn´t you just tell them you wanted to do it for real? And why could they not just take your hints? Urgh boys. Stupid, gorgeous and so god damn sexy boys.

You counted to 30 two times before excusing yourself. It hadn´t been two minutes yet, but you were getting bored. And certainly impatient. You quickly crossed the bar and knocked on the door to the bathroom.

“It´s me”, you said before knocking again.

The door swung open just as you had raised your hand to knock a third time. Gwilym appeared behind it, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Eager?”, he snickered, gesturing for you to come in. He locked the door behind you.

“Can´t wait to pretend to have Ben´s cock in my mouth”, you said, turning to Ben just in time to see his eyes widen before he cleared his throat and composed himself. It felt really empowering to have him get all flustered.

“So how are we doing this then?”, you asked. You noticed Ben was still fully clothed.

“Just kneel in front of Ben and I´ll take a photo from behind”, Gwilym said, moving his hand as he spoke to show you how he wanted it to look.

You nodded and sank to your knees in front of Ben. You gulped when you were met by his clad crotch, desperately wanting to reach out and touch him. Instead, you looked up at Ben and gave him a smile.

You could hear Gwilym snap a few photos behind Ben before cursing.

“It doesn´t look right”, he mumbled, apparently studying the photo on his phone.

“Maybe if Ben´s pants are pushed down?”, you suggested. You looked up at Ben to gauge his reaction. You could see him take in a deep breath, his cheeks flush, before nodding to let you know it was ok.

“Yeah, try that”, Gwilym said.

You pulled Ben´s t-shirt out of his trousers, feeling his hot skin against your fingertips as you moved. You could see a strip of his toned stomach accompanied by a trail of hair as you lifted it, probably higher than strictly necessary, before moving down to work on his button. You popped it open before sliding the zipper down. Your fingers brushed against his boxers, and you swore you could feel his cock stir slightly beneath your touch. Warmth rose to your cheeks.

You reached around and pulled his pants down just slightly, doing the same at the front. The thin material of his boxers was all that was covering his cock. His cock that was definitely semi-hard.

“Hmm, doesn´t look right. Can you pull his boxers down just a little, Y/N?”, Gwilym asked from behind Ben.

Ben nodded when you looked up at him for consent, causing you to relax a little bit. Just a little though, because as you pulled his white Calvin Klein’s down you could see the neatly trimmed patch of hair that was centering around the base of his cock. Even though you could only see the first inch of it, you could tell he was well equipped.

“Yeah that´s it. Lean in a little closer and we´re good, darling”

You took a deep breath and leaned in, closing your eyes in the process. You were so close. You could just poke your tongue out, pull his boxers further down, do literally anything you wanted. But you couldn’t. You wanted to, but that would be taking advantage of the situation.

“Got it”, Gwilym said, excitement evident in his voice.

You opened your eyes and pulled away just as Ben placed his boxers back in place. They were definitely tighter than what they were a minute ago, causing you to smirk. So you had the same effect on him as they did. Good to know.

The photo did turn out great. It was totally believable. You wanted to ask Gwilym if he could send it to you but figured that would seem to desperate. It didn´t really matter though, you still had the clear image of Ben´s crotch mere centimeters from your face. It was a mental image you used several times over the next couple of days, and even weeks, when you were alone with your toys.

---

The three of you had left France a couple of days later. It was a good trip, it really was. You got to see some beautiful views. Both in public and in private. The image of Gwilym so close to your heat and Ben´s cock so close to your face left you flustered at the most inappropriate times. Especially the fact that you knew Ben got hard from having you pretend to suck him off. It definitely made you more confident. And arguably flirtier.

You were mostly able to keep your filthy thoughts at bay, but when you opened the door to the waiting cab and saw Ben and Gwilym once again dressed smart, you immediately felt a rush of excitement rush to rest between your legs. Your panties definitely already damp. This would be a long tennis match.

“Hi, boys”, you greeted and slid into the seat beside Gwilym. Ben had once again gone for the white t-shirt tucked into dress pants look, but this time the suit was pink. He kept his blazer open. His trousers cut a bit short to show off his black boots. He looked good. Really good. You hadn´t really seen him in pink before, but he could definitely pull it off.

Gwilym had put on a subtler outfit. His trousers were a deep navy color, of course a little too short this time too. His ankles on show. Oh god you had to take a deep breath. His white button down was slightly open, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his tanned chest and the hair covering it. Gwilym had trimmed his beard, rocking a stubble rather than a full-blown beard this time. You could see the hair had begun to transition into grey, but somehow it just made him even hotter. You definitely had a thing for older guys.

Their hair was of course styled to perfection again, although you were pretty sure they could have rocked up with bed hair and every girl in a mile´s distance would swoon.

“Looking good, love. 10/10 would bang”, Ben said with a wink. You rolled your eyes. The phrase had become an inside joke between the three of you.

“You wish, Jonesy”, you mumbled, putting on your seatbelt.

“Oh he does”, Gwilym said, nudging Ben´s side.

“Like you don´t”, Ben said. He raised his eyebrow at the brunette.

You laughed it off, knowing they were just joking. Or at least they probably were. Right? You were suddenly way too aware of how close you were. Your thighs were pressed up against Gwilym´s, his body heat radiating to yours.

The rest of the ride to Wimbledon was spent catching up on each other´s lives. You were definitely part of the conversation, but your eyes kept drifting down to Gwilym´s thigh. Over to Ben´s. Your panties completely ruined by this point.

“Can you take a photo of us, Y/N?”, Ben asked before the match started. He wanted another one for his grid probably. They had uploaded some of the pictures from your France trip, which reminded you of the nights spent alone each time you opened Insta.

“No, take it yourself. I´m not pretending to work for you anymore”, you said, crossing your arms over your chest and slumping back into your seat. You were so frustrated you couldn´t help but act a little bit rude.

“Geez what´s gotten into you today?”, he said, nudging your side with his elbow. You shot him a glare.

“Just take a selfie mate, Y/N´s probably on her period”, Gwilym said.

“I am not”, you mumbled, watching as Ben flipped the camera on his phone. He did this weird thing with his mouth and gave the camera his finger. You knew he intended it for you, but it didn´t get you mad. In fact, it had the exact opposite effect. You couldn’t help but imagine that thick finger somewhere else. Ok so maybe you did get a little bit mad, but only because it made you even hornier.

Honestly, you couldn´t care less about the actual tennis match, you were here for the free booze. And maybe to gauge at men in suits. However, there was only two men that caught your eye. Which was why you kept looking over at them throughout the match, your sunglasses thankfully keeping them from knowing.

Each time one of them would lean in to whisper something in your ear you would tense up and feel goosebumps form on your skin. You were so horny, your period due in a couple of days. Why were tennis matches this long? All you wanted to do was go home and get into bed with your vibrator. But, no such luck.

You were almost asleep by the time both Ben and Gwilym stood up to cheer the winner on. You stumbled to your feet and politely clapped your hands, mentally thanking the gods that you were finally able to go home.

“Want to come with us back to mine, Y/N?”, Gwilym asked as you made your way through the crowd and towards the waiting cab. You groaned.

“I´m really tired”, you lied. You weren´t tired, you were horny. You needed a release soon or you were sure you were going to drown in a puddle of your own excitement.

“Come on, we´re going to facetime Joe and order a pizza”, Ben said, nudging your side. “You know you want to”

“I don’t know”, you said, giving the driver a smile for opening the door for you.

“We promise it will be worth it”, Gwilym said with a look that could only be described as mischievous. There was something about it that swayed you. Something so mysterious, you eventually agreed.

What you didn´t expect however, was the suggestion they made after you had finished eating. You stood in front of the two boys in Gwilym´s bedroom, your eyes drifting back and forth between them.

“You want us all to have sex? And film it all and send it to Joe?”, you asked, not really believing the words that had come out of Ben´s mouth. You hoped he meant it though. God you wanted to.

“Well yeah, that pretty much sums it up”, Gwilym said, shrugging. Ben had spent a good few minutes trying to tell you what they wanted to do, stuttering his way through. It was kind of cute really.

“Uh, sure”, you said. This was definitely something you wanted. It wasn´t just a spur of the moment kind of thing. The week away with Ben and Gwilym had reminded you just how hot you found both of them and besides, you were all consenting adults so there was really nothing wrong with it. Well maybe except for the part that you would basically be live-streaming the entire thing.

“We need you to be sure, Y/N”, Ben said, apparently having composed himself. His cheeks were still blotchy though.

“I guess”

“Come on. Yes or no, darling”, Gwilym said. He took a step towards you, boring his blue eyes into yours. There was something so different about this time. It would be for real. There would be no pretending. You would have them both in the bed. Naked.

“Yes”, you said, no doubt in your mind.

“Good, maybe we should reenact the photos but this time”, Ben said, stepping closer so he could lean down to whisper in your ear, “You´ll actually have your lips around my cock”

A shiver ran down your shine at his words, and if it weren´t for Gwilym reaching out to grab your waist you were pretty sure you would have collapsed right then and there.

“You would like that, wouldn´t you, darling?”, Gwilym asked. His voice was low and raspy, the vibrations going straight to your heat. They hadn´t even touched you and you were completely putty at their feet.

“Need you to use your words for us, love”, Ben said. He leant down to press his lips to the spot just below your ear lobe, the spot that always drove you crazy. You could even feel him smirk against your skin, clearly happy with having found it right away. His tiny stubble felt rough against your skin as he nibbled and sucked small bites onto your neck. A moan fell from your lips at the tingling sensation. The same tingling you felt in your panties.

“Oh, she likes that, Ben. Better keep it up”, Gwilym said. “Come on, talk to us, Y/N”

“I-I fuck that feels so good, Ben”, you whined, arching into his touch. Feeling Gwilym´s warm hand on the small of your back.

“Mhm, and?”, Gwilym asked.

“God, I want you so bad”, you said, “Please”

“Hmm, that´s it, darling”, he cooed, pulling you away from Ben. You whined at the loss of contact, but the whine was quickly replaced by a moan as Gwilym pressed his lips to yours. His hands snaked up your waist, pulling you close to his body. The kiss was intense, his tongue immediately pressing into your mouth. Your teeth were clashing, his grip on your waist tightening.

You reached out to wrap your hands around his neck. You were desperate to have him even closer. Yet, the only thing that was separating the two of you were your clothes. You pulled back and started unbuttoning Gwilym´s shirt.

“Someone´s eager”, Ben chuckled, watching from the bed. You hadn´t even noticed that he had moved, too preoccupied with the kiss.

“Wait”, Gwilym said, putting his hands over yours. They were hot. And big. Holy shit. “If we´re recreating the photos, then I think you need to lie down”

Oh. You liked where this was going. A lot. The mere memory of Gwilym´s beard against your inner thighs enough to have you clench your thighs together for some sort of friction.

“Would you like that, love? Do you want Gwil to make you cum with his mouth? Maybe his long fingers too?”, Ben asked, grinning when you turned around and let out the most desperate whimper you´ve ever made. They really had you wrapped around their finger.

“I thought so, come on. Let´s get you undressed”, he continued. Ben twirled his finger so you would turn around before rising to his feet. Your eyes locked on Gwilym´s as you felt Ben´s warm fingers slowly glide the zipper of your dress down your back. His curls tickled your skin as he placed kisses along the newly exposed skin. Nibbling slightly as the zipper reached its end just above your ass.

Gwilym stepped closer and tugged the material down over your hips and legs, exposing your rather unflattering underwear. You cursed yourself for having opted for those no visible panty line ones, and a washed-out bra, but by the hungry look in Gwilym´s eyes you figured they couldn´t really care less.

You felt Ben´s fingers on your back again, lingering just beside the clasp of your bra. His breath hot on your neck.

“Can I take this off, love?”, Ben asked, tugging at the material. You leant into his touch, just needing to have him close. To have them both close.

“Please”, you said, the word almost came out as a whimper at this point. You could hear Ben chuckle behind you, obviously aware of the effect they had on you. And loving every second of it.

Ben snapped your bra open before reaching out and sliding the straps down your arms. You could see Gwilym´s eyes darken in front of you as he took in your naked torso.

“Mmm, I´ve thought about these for so long, darling”, he half growled. Gwilym reached out to cup your tits in his warm hands, skillful fingers tweaking your nipples. Ben wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close, his lips finding your neck again. You could feel his erection pressing into your backside. It was almost too much. They were everywhere. Your pussy was aching to be touched, ever pull and squeeze of your breasts sending waves of pleasure straight down to your soaked panties.

Gwilym leant down to press his lips to the soft curve of your breasts, sucking and nibbling lightly on the skin before making his way to your hard nipple. He wrapped his lips around the nub and flicked his tongue over it. Humming against your skin as he heard your moans. You pulled at Ben´s hair behind you with one hand, the other clawing and Gwilym´s back.

You were just about to tell Gwilym that you needed more when you felt Ben´s hand slide down to your panties. He dipped his fingers into the fabric and pressed them against your aching clit. You moaned in pleasure, leaning all your body weight onto him.

“Bloody hell, love. You´re completely soaked”, Ben said, pulling his fingers out. You wanted to scream in frustration at the loss of contact. You just needed to cum.

Ben brought his fingers up to his mouth and licked them clean. A small groan escaped his lips.

“Does she taste good?”, Gwilym asked, pulling away from your nipple. Now none of them were touching you where you wanted them. You tried to shoot them an angry look, but it just turned out desperate.

“Tnaaw, do you want us to keep touching you, darling?”, Gwilym cooed. He placed a finger under your chin to force you to look him in the eyes. They flickered with lust, almost making your knees give out.

“You have to be patient, love”, Ben said. He dipped his fingers back into your panties for a brief second, making you cry out in frustration, before bringing them up to Gwilym´s lips. The taller man sucked them into his mouth, moaning at the sensation.

“Please”, you whined, desperately trying to get their attention off of each other and onto you. “I just need to cum”

“Do you now?”, Gwilym teased, finally looking down at you. He raised his eyebrow in amusement. Not that you found the situation funny. At all.

“Yes”, you said. You reached down to finish unbuttoning his shirt.

“I thought we were going to reenact the photo, darling? I need you to lie on the bed for that”, he said, watching your fingers move.

“You had your shirt off in the photo”, you mumbled, sighing when you got them all unbuttoned. You could hear both boys laugh as you slid the material off Gwilym´s shoulders, your eyes raking over his torso.

“Ah that´s true, darling”, Gwilym said, winking, “Speaking off, will you set up your phone, Ben? I´ll take care of Y/N in the meantime”

The look Gwilym sent you sent shivers down your back. He pulled you closer to his body, his hands finding your waist and his lips yours. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, silently asking you to open up for him. But you didn´t have to do anything, his hands slid down to your ass and you couldn´t help but moan into Gwilym´s mouth, which he took as an opportunity to press his tongue through.

You could faintly hear Ben setting up things in the corner, but you were far too focused on the way Gwilym´s fingers almost dug into your ass as he squeezed your cheeks, how his bulge pressed into your front through his pants. How his lips felt against yours. His beard on your skin.

Gwilym´s fingers hooked into the material of your panties, playing with it for a few seconds before sliding them down your legs. You stepped out and looked up at the man in front of you. Completely naked. Exposed.

Gwilym was smirking.

“What a view, darling”, he said, voice low. “Lie down”

You walked backwards until the back of your knees his bed before sitting down and scooting up the bed. Your hands brushed against something, and you turned around to find Ben sitting at the headboard. Oh. You hadn´t noticed him moving. And certainly not that he was shirtless too.

“What about Joe?”, you asked, not seeing his phone. Ben grinned and nodded towards the dresser. You could just about see the outline of your bodies on the bed on the screen of his phone. This was actually happening. Joe was going to see you get fucked by Ben and Gwil. You felt a rush of excitement at the thought.

“Come on, lean against me”, Ben said, opening his legs. You positioned your body between then and leant back into his chest. You could hear his heart-beat against your skin, his erection poking into your lower back.

The feeling of Gwilym´s hands on your knees pulled your attention away from Ben.

“Hmm, this view is even better”, he mumbled as he slowly pulled your knees apart. Gwilym leant down to press his lips to the inside of your knee, making his way downwards at an agonizingly slow speed. His hair tickled your skin, his beard scratching it. Your senses were in overdrive, your mouth dry from being open.

You whined and leant further into Ben´s chest, closing your eyes in a mixture of frustration and pleasure. What made it even worse was that you could feel Gwilym smirking against your skin. That smug fucker.

“Stop teasing Gwil”, you whined, bucking your hips in an attempt to meet his face. However, he pulled back.

“I seem to remember me kissing you right here”, he said, leaning in and pressing his lips just outside your folds. Exactly the spot where his lips had been the last time.

“That looks about right”, Ben spoke above you. The vibrations of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“Fuck off”, you mumbled. Pissed.

Gwilym shot you a wink before pressing a kiss just beside your clit. Finally, he let his lips graze the sensitive bundle of nerves. He sucked it gently into his mouth before pulling back, enjoying the moans and whimpers that left your mouth, the pleasure he brought you.

Ben slid his hands around your waist before moving them up to cup your breasts, his lips finding your neck again.

You bucked into Gwilym, reaching down to tug at his hair. Thankfully, he took the hint and sucked harder. He alternated between flattening his tongue against your clit and taking it into his mouth.

“You´re so wet for us, darling”, Gwilym cooed. His lips left your clit to drag his tongue through your folds, collecting your excitement. His tongue nudging the sensitive bud with each lick. The sensation mixed with his beard constantly rubbing your skin raw and Ben´s skilled finger on your nipples, was almost enough to bring you to an orgasm. But you needed more.

“I need your fingers, Gwil”, you whined, tugging harder at his hair. Gwilym looked up at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Need? That´s a bit of a harsh word, Y/N”, he teased. He licked your clit with the very tip of his tongue, sending bolt after bolt of electricity throughout your body. You groaned in frustration.

“Fucking hell, Gwil. Can you please just finger me?”, you asked.

“Hmm, since you asked so nicely, darling”

Gwilym moved on of his hands from your thighs to run two fingers through your folds. He made sure they were completely covered in your wetness before he pressed them against your entrance. His blue eyes met yousr again as he looked up at you, seeking consent. You eagerly nodded your head, feeling his fingers already stretching you. It was nothing compared to when he actually slid them inside though. His fingers were so long, so thick, it almost made you see stars.

He curled them expertly against your g-spot and started rubbing it. God that man knew what he was doing. You arched into his touch, the top of your back digging into Ben´s chest while his fingers played with your nipples.

It was too much, the pleasure in the pit of your stomach building at a rapid pace. You could feel the familiar tightening, the tingle threatening to boil over. Exactly what you had craved all day.

What really pushed you up to the edge however, was when Gwilym leant down again and wrapped his lips around your clit. His tongue pressed against the bundle of nerves, his fingers nudging your g-spot.

“Are you going to cum, love?”, Ben asked against your neck. He had probably made several hickeys on your skin by this point but you couldn´t care less. You were far too focused on your incoming high.

“Y-yes”, you whined, “Fuck I´m gon-I´m gonna-“

You didn´t even get to finish your sentence before absolute euphoria took over your body. Wave after wave crashed over you, the tight tingles caressing every inch, every nerve of your being.

Gwilym guided you through it while Ben held you still, trying to stop your shaking thighs.

“That´s so much better than what I´ve imagined”, Gwilym said after you had come down. He retracted his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to clean them off. You watched him with dopey eyes, trying to regain your breath from the intense orgasm.

“Y-You´ve imagined it?”, you asked.

“Of course, darling. What do you think I did after we took that photo in France?”, he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Got me so hard”

“Me too”, Ben chimed in, giggling against your neck. You suddenly felt way too hot all over. You pushed off of Ben´s chest and sat between the two men.

“You guys actually jerked off after that?”, you asked. They both looked at each other before nodding. “Then why the hell did we wait until now to do this? I was so horny”

“Oh I know you were”, Gwilym said with a wink. Right, he had gotten your wetness all over his chin when he kissed your inner-thigh. You squirmed at the thought.

“To be honest, I didn´t believe Gwil when he told me you had gotten wet from us. But when you were on your knees in front of me I couldn´t think of anything else”, Ben said.

“So that´s why you got hard?”, you asked.

“Yeah”, Ben half-laughed, running his hand through his hair. “Couldn´t help it, you looked so hot”

“Want to see me actually giving you head?”, you asked, taking your chance.

Ben´s eyes went wide at your abrupt question. You could see blood rush to his cheeks as he stuttered for a reply.

“G-God yes”, he said. Ben reached for his trousers, immediately undoing them and pulling them his legs. You were once again met with the view of his boxers, but this time they were significantly more tented.

“Someone´s eager”, Gwilym chuckled, from behind you. He went to sit down on the bed, watching you lean over in front of Ben.

You let your fingers graze over his bulge while you pressed kisses to his lower stomach. Ben´s breathing had already increased, his hops bucking into your touch. Man was he impatient.

“Relax, Ben”, you said, moving your lips to the waistband of his boxers. You pulled them down slightly, just like you had in the picture. The base of his cock was even thicker now, his cock stretching the fabric of his boxers. Your mouth watered.

You pressed a kiss to the very base of his cock, letting your tongue dart out and wet the area. The whimper that left Ben´s mouth was all the encouragement you needed to pull his boxers down his legs. His cock sprang out and stood at full attention in front of you. There were a few thick veins going from the base all the way to his head. A steady stream of small pre-cum drops oozing from the slit. You smiled and licked your lips.

You looked up at Ben to gauge his reaction as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock. You could feel the blood pump through it. The skin soft despite him being rock hard.

Ben´s eyes were trained on your every move, his bottom lip between his teeth. His cheeks all blotchy with arousal. Just beside him was Gwilym, sitting and watching you hover over Ben´s cock. You sent him a wink before turning your attention back to the blonde in front of you.

You leant down to swipe your tongue over the slit, feeling the salty taste of his clear pre-cum coat your mouth. You could tell Ben was getting impatient, but you wanted to take your time. This was something you had imagined doing for so long.

“Please, Y/N. Do something”, Ben whined, reaching down to grab your head.

You hummed in amusement, slowly letting your tongue swirl around his sensitive head. You coated it in your spit, gently pressing kisses here and there. Ben yelped when you kissed the string just below your head, making you grin. You had him completely at your mercy.

Deciding you had teased him enough, you wrapped your lips around the head and slowly started bobbing. Your lips created a delicious friction against the tip, your hand slowly starting to work his shaft. Ben kept trying to push you further down, but you shot him a warning look.

You sped up your movement slightly, your hand working in tandem with your mouth. Your tongue was resting against the bottom of his cock, dragging against the string with every bob of your head.

You could tell Ben was getting close by the way his hips thrusted up into your mouth slightly, the moans and whimpers leaving his mouth at a higher frequency.

“Are you going to cum, Ben?”, you asked, pulling off of his head with a bop. He let out a long whine at the loss of contact, left with only your hand working his shaft at a slow speed.

“I was so c-close”, he whined, “Please, love. Just let me cum”

“Not yet”, you said. You let his cock fall against his stomach as you sat back on your knees.

“Can I fuck you then?”, he asked.

“I think you need a few minutes to calm down, mate. Don´t want to bust in a few seconds, do you?”, Gwilym asked. He stood from the bed and started to unbutton his pants. His fingers were quick to get them open, and you watched in awe as he pulled them down his long legs along with his boxers. His cock was a little bit bigger than Ben´s. The head red and angry from being neglected.

“Sit and watch me fuck her. You´ll get your turn”, Gwilym said, kneeling on the bed. He waved you over with his fingers, and your body moved on pure instinct. Driven by lust. Your eyes trained on his cock. Your mind racing with what you were about to do, another wave of wetness pooling at your entrance.

“I´m going to take you from behind, darling. Let me know if it´s too much or if you want me to stop, ok?”, Gwilym asked. His eyes were dark and laced with lust.

“Y-yes”, you said, turning around so your ass was right in front of him. Gwilym groaned at the sight as you leant your weight onto your elbows, wiggling your ass in front of him. His hands found your cheeks, his fingers digging into the flesh. Just like he did earlier, only this time he held you even harder.

One of his hands left your cheek before a sharp sting from a slap shot up your body. You yelped in surprise.

“Is this ok?”, Gwilym asked, massaging the spot where he just slapped you.

“Fuck yes”, you moaned. The slight sting went straight to your heat, making you clench around thin air. You needed him, and you needed him now. “Gwil can you please ju- Oh my god”

Gwilym had grabbed his cock and slowly pressed it into your heat. You could feel every ridge and vein of his cock drag against your walls as he came to a halt inside. Your wetness made an excellent lube, making you feel nothing but absolute bliss of being full. He stretched you just right, your walls clamping down on his cock. A grunt leaving Gwilym´s lips with every squeeze.

“Fucking hell your cunt is so perfect, darling. I feel you hugging me just right. Is it alright if I move?”, he asked.

“God yes”, you whined, already feeling the knot in your stomach start to tighten.

Gwilym pulled back slowly before slamming back in, almost making you lose your balance. His balls slapped against your clit with every trust, creating the little friction needed. He somehow had gotten the perfect angle, the tip of his cock nudging your g-spot with his every move. Bringing you closer and closer.

“I can see my cock slide into your wet cunt”, Gwilym mumbled, mostly to himself as his eyes were trained on the spot where you were connected.

You looked up to see Ben had grabbed his phone, apparently getting a few close-up shots of you being fucked. His hand slowly working his cock. You tried to make a sultry look at the camera, but it turned into a grimace of pleasure as Gwilym´s hand came down on your ass. Hard. You were sure there was going to be bruises there the next day, but it felt so good you didn’t care. You clenched around Gwilym, feeling your orgasm approaching.

“Are you going to cum again, darling? I feel you squeezing my cock. Fuck it feels so fucking good”, Gwilym growled, picking up his speed. His hips stuttering slightly as he felt his own high build.

You responded with a whine, burying your head into the mattress. A hard slap across your ass-cheek made you scream.

“Use your fucking words, Y/N”, Gwilym commanded, giving your ass another slap.

“Shit I´m sorry. Y-yes, I´m so fu-fucking close, Gwil”, you moaned. “Ca-can you, fuck, I need your fingers too”

Gwilym hummed, perching himself on his feet to drive into your harder. He almost pushed you into the mattress with how hard he was fucking you. The knot in your stomach started unraveling the second his fingers pressed against your clit. He didn´t even have to rub, the pressure enough to push you over the edge.

You screamed his name in pleasure as you orgasm hit you like a freight train. Bolts after bolts of absolute euphoria took over your entire body, your legs shaking and your mouth falling open as you rode out your high. Your walls clamping down on Gwilym´s cock.

“Bloody hell, darling, I´m so close. Can I cum inside you?”, Gwilym asked once you came down, his voice strained from holding back his own orgasm.

“Please”, was all you managed to get out, your whole body spent and ready for him. You squeezed your walls around Gwilym´s cock one final time before you felt the familiar warm feeling of cum coating your insides. Spurt after spurt shot out of his cock as Gwilym buried himself balls deep. His hands were gripping your hips so hard you were sure there were going to be prints permanently embedded into your skin.

“That’s so fucking hot”, Ben mumbled, eyes wide as he watched Gwilym empty himself inside you. His own cock twitching in his hand.

“Fuck that was amazing”, Gwilym groaned as he pulled out, watching his cum pool at your entrance. He leant down to press a kiss to the raw mark on your cheek, soothing the burn just a little bit. “You did so good for me, darling”

“Do you think you can take another one, love?”, Ben asked, handing his phone off to Gwilym. “We don´t have to”

There was a concerned look on Ben´s face as he took in your exhausted form. You had faceplanted onto the mattress, desperately trying to catch your breath. You tilted your head to look at him. His cock was positively aching in front of you, the head leaking. The sight made your clit twitch. Your eyes travelled up his body, over his muscular stomach and up to his bright eyes.

“I want to, Ben”, you said with a smile. And it wasn´t a lie. You were craving another orgasm. Especially when you saw the way his face lit up. You rolled over and spread your legs, shuddering slightly as the cold air hit your wet pussy. “But you´re going to have to put in the work”

“That I can do, love”, he said with a grin, quickly moving over to position himself between your thighs. You could hear Gwilym move to sit at the headboard, but all your attention was on the blonde man in front of you.

Ben grabbed his cock and dragged it through your folds, apologizing when the head grazed your clit and you yelped from over-sensitivity. His entire upper body was red and blotchy, a vein in his forehead popping out as he positioned himself at your entrance. Ben placed his hands on either side of your body, drew in a harsh breath and slowly pushed in. You gasped at the sensation of being filled again, being stretched.

You grabbed onto Ben´s forearms as he pushed all the way in, digging your nails into his skin. Sure to leave small pink marks. God you wanted this so bad.

“J-just fuck me, Ben. Please”, you whined, hooking your legs around his waist. Ben chuckled and started moving his hips, pulling out before thrusting back in. His cock dragged against your walls, making you whimper and cling onto him for dear life.

Ben leant over and pressed his lips to your neck, putting his entire body weight into his thrusts, pinning you underneath him as he drove into you.

The knot in your lower stomach had already started to tighten, the sensitivity from your other orgasms bringing you close in a matter of minutes. By the way Ben was breathing heavily through his nose as he nibbled at your neck you were sure he was close to.

You looked down to see his cock slide into your heat, making you groan in pleasure. The sounds of wet skin against skin filling the air.

“Please tell me you´re close, love. I don´t think I´m going to last”, Ben whined, pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes. A wave of tingles shot up your back, making you clench around his cock. Ben groaned in pleasure from the tightness. God, he looked so pretty like this, his pink lip between his teeth. You reached out to pull it out before pulling his face to yours, pressing your lips against his.

Ben moaned into the kiss, speeding up his movements as he felt his balls draw up. It was all too much. Ben´s lips against yours, his cock nudging your g-spot, his heavy weight on top of you. How hot he was.

“I-I´m going to, shit I´m going to cum, Ben”, you whined against his lips. You moved one hand up to his hair to tug at his curls, completely burying your fingers in his golden locks.

You came. Hard. Your mouth fell open against his as pleasure shot up your spine and out to your fingertips. The delicious tight tingle spread across your stomach, your pussy clamping down on Ben´s cock. Milking him for all he was worth.

It took all Ben´s strength to hold out until you were done, but the second you came down he pulled out and wrapped his hand around his cock. He jerked himself off, moaning when the first spurt of hot cum shot out to coat your chest. The white liquid painted your breasts, making a right mess. Not that you cared, Ben looked ridiculously hot with his hand wrapped around himself, his face scrunched up in pleasure.

“You better clean up this mess, Jonesy”, you teased once he came down.

Ben let out an exhausted chuckle, falling back on his knees.

“Just give me two seconds, love”, he said, trying to steady his breath.

“One, two”, you said, giggling. You felt almost high from the post orgasm bliss.

“Fuck off”, Ben mumbled.

You could hear the tell-tale sound of a video ending, causing you to look over to Gwilym. He fiddled with Ben´s phone for a few seconds before meeting your eyes.

“The video is currently on its way to Joe´s phone. Pretty sure he´ll believe us this time”, he said, tossing the phone to the side. He grabbed a tissue from his bedside table and handed it over to you with a kind smile. A harsh contrast to the way he was slapping and pounding into you earlier. You could definitely said slaps on your bottom as you wiped Ben´s cum off your chest, your ass stinging as you moved.

Deciding the tissue wasn´t doing much for the sticky mess, you stood up and walked on shaky legs over to the bathroom. You got out a washcloth and wet it before running it over your skin. You wiped away Gwilym´s and yours cum from your heat too, hissing when your fingers brushed your sensitive clit.

After using the toilet and washing your hands, you walked back into Gwilym´s bedroom to find both boys fast asleep on the bed. Completely naked. You couldn´t help the smile that crept onto your face. They sure were cute. And amazing in bed too.

You were just about to slide into bed yourself when you saw your phone light up with a notification. Turning it on, you saw a single text from Joe. Your heart raced as you unlocked it, your mouth falling open as you read the four words. You´re mine. Just mine, it said.

Masterlist

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miracle-sham · 5 years ago

Text

Our Faces are Hidden Behind Masks of Glass.

| {Maribat 2k20 – Day 1: Late Night Discussions} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] |

| Sometimes, when secret identities are revealed, you just need a cuppa tea and some reaffirmation—and maybe some cuddles too. |

| Word count: 1534. |

==–==

| A/N: So I really thought SCAB would be my first piece of writing posted on here/for Maribat but then I got mugged in a dark dank alleyway by the Maribat2k20 MariTim prompt calendar and stabbed by the knife of inspiration. So uh yeah enjoy. |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics, or a specific Au, then send me a DM or an ask! |

| Also side note, Don't Like? Don't Read. Also please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

==–==

Heck-heck-heckity-heckles, Marinette chants in her head, desperately needing to find an empty alleyway that she can detransform in. She flicks her yo-yo towards a random skyscraper, and swings her way across the Gotham night skyline, scanning the streets below for somewhere that met her criteria.

Just as her earrings bleep thrice to signal that she was down to two dots, she spots it, an empty alleyway not in plain view of any roads, or windows. There! She cheers internally, dropping down into the alleyway and whispering a “Tikki, spots off!”

However, her relief at finding a place to detransform is short-lived, for as soon as the bright pink glow fades away, she's faced with the sight of Red Robin half changed into civvies, domino in one hand. Marinette stares at him in shock, and he stares back. Blinking blankly, she tries to wrap her mind around the fact that one of her "civilian" friends is actually a hero. A hero she's allies with, friends even.

The two stand there for a solid minute as their brains reboot. Tim cocks his head to one side, gaze flickering between looking her up and down, and staring at her earrings. Marinette also cocking her head to one side but her gaze switches between his bare face and the domino in his hand.

Once their brains finish rebooting, immediately the two blurt out the first thoughts to come to mind.

“Tim... You're Red Robin?”–

–“Wait, Marinette, you've been Ladybug this entire time?”

Marinette swallowed, blinking back tears, suddenly very aware of how vulnerable she was in the open with her secret exposed and—oh god, Tim's the first person to know my identity bar Master Fu… This is the first time I've ever had my identity revealed and I didn't even get a choice—She manages to choke down a sob before spitting out, “I think we should take this somewhere more private.” The words burning her tongue with the acrid taste of fear.

He nods sharply—almost more of a jerk than an actual nod. “I agree.”

Neither makes an attempt to move, both still staring.

“My place or yours?” She asks, hesitantly, half frowning.

He nods again, more softly this time, “Mine, but lemme just um…” Gesturing towards the amalgamation that was half his Red Robin suit and half civvies as he speaks.

Marinette's eyes widen in realisation, practically squeaking, she stutters. “Oh. Uh yeah, sorry!” She stiffly turns her back to him in an act of respect of privacy and cradles her face in her hands as her cheeks flush bright red from embarrassment. God, I'm never going to live this down, am I?

After about a minute of stewing in her embarrassment, she hears Tim clears his throat from the other side of the Alleyway. “Okay, done.”

She turns around to face him again, the blush has faded somewhat in the time passed but it's still very clearly noticeable. She can't help but glance at his civilian outfit. “Oh, er, nice?”

He sort of just blinks at her, rather bemused. “Uh, thanks… I guess?”

An awkward silence hangs over them as they shuffle and dance around each other on their way out of the alleyway. The walk to his theatre house is just as silent and awkward despite the hundreds of questions on each of their lips. A good thing then—Marinette supposes—that we didn't go to my place, I'm not sure I'd be able to handle an even longer awkward silence.

==–==

They take the civilian route inside—also known as using the door like a sane person—because apparently, vigilantes will only use windows as entrances provided there are windows to enter and that the vigilantes in question are suited up. Tim spends a good thirty seconds opening his front door, deactivating a bunch of different security protocols most likely. The hallway and lounge lights were already on probably to try and deter potential robbers—the house is in Crime Alley after all—but once they enter said hallway, all the ceiling lights on the first floor switch on.

Tim guides her to the sofa, which she perches on the edge of, facing the massive fish tank before disappearing into the kitchen. The sound of shuffling feet, cupboards and drawers opening, and the click of a kettle—or perhaps a coffee machine? She can't quite tell from this distance—are the only things to give away what he's doing in there. Marinette has no doubts that he's making the noise on purpose, he's a bat. But she's not quite sure if the noise is because he's comfortable here, or if it's because he's trying to make her feel more welcome?

A minute later, Tim re-emerges with two teacups in hand. He gently lays both on a coffee table between the sofa and aquarium, one of the cups pushed towards her general direction. He plops himself down on the sofa as well, albeit leaving enough space between the two of them that a third person could sit there.

She picks up the drink and peers at it, perplexed, for a second, question falling from her mouth before she can stop herself, “Earl Grey? With lemon?” I thought he was a coffee person?

“Alfred.” Is his clipped response.

She nods and 'oh's under her breath. That explains it. Marinette takes a sip and her eyes light up. “Oh wow! This is delicious!”

Tim raises his eyebrows in amusement and snorts but doesn't comment. The conversation lulls again. They sip their tea in silence.

When Marinette finishes her tea, she carefully puts the mug back down, with an audible clink, on the coffee table. She hesitates and the words Kagami once told her come unbidden to her mind. She grimaces, glances to Tim.

He's watching her with that calculating gaze of his, however, it seems far more tumultuous in nature this evening. He's hiding his mouth behind his mug like another mask.

Marinette leans back against the sofa and stares at his ceiling before idiomatically biting the bullet and physical biting her lips. “How long are we going to do this?”

He freezes. “Do what?”

She gestures vaguely in the air between the two of them. “This, tiptoe around the elephant in the room or I suppose in our case, the vigilantes in the room.”

Her phrasing manages to bring a small smile to his face but not a second later it fades and he purses his lips.

Solemnly, he gives her a once over. “So you're Ladybug then?”

Marinette huffs. “And you're Red Robin.”

“Does anyone else know that you're her then?”

She turns her head away from him, “No, you're…” Her throat closes up and she's forced to blink back tears again. Barely holding back the sniffles, she chokes out the last few words. “You're the only other person to know.”—Not technically a lie, it's not like Master Fu remembers anything about the miraculous, let alone my identity.

Tim deflates slightly, curling his shoulders inwards. “I wish you had told us before, we could have supported you. You shouldn't have had to deal with all that without help”

“What? Like Batman didn't start off alone?” Marinette snaps back automatically, no real heat behind her words.

“Batman's not exactly a pillar of good life decisions or emotional stability.” He retorts with a raised eyebrow.

Sighing, she shakes her head and whines, “Tim…”

“Marinette.” His lips twitch upwards like he's in on some joke she doesn't get, “On the bright side, now we know each other's identities, we can help each other on cases and patrols, or cover for the other in or out the masks.” He offers, sounding so calm and nonchalant.

Marinette shuffles closer to him on the sofa. “That would be useful. I just. I.” She stutters, brain moving faster than her mouth.

Tim grins ruefully. “You're worried I'm gonna tell the rest of the bats who you are, right?”

She curls up instinctively. “Yeah…”

“Don't worry, they're also detectives. If they can't work out your identity then why should I give them the answer?” He tries to joke but it falls flat.

“The magic of the Miraculous stops people from making the connection between my two identities.” Marinette responds.

“Ok, but what I'm trying to say is that I'm not going to give you away even if they ask.” He also shuffles closer to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him.

“Thank you, Tim.”

“No problem, Mari.”

Marinette pauses. “So this won't affect our relationship in or out the mask, right? We're still friends?”

“Of course! This doesn't change a thing.” Tim, emulating Dick, pulls her in for a hug, and if Marinette melts into his arms—well he's not going to say no to that, not when he's so touch starved.

==–==

When Dick breaks into the house the next morning to check on Tim, seeing as he never checked out for the night nor did he return to the cave, he finds the two cuddled up together—fast asleep on the sofa. He nabs a spare blanket and pulls it over the two of them, snaps a pic to serve as evidence to Tim being okay, and then skedaddles before either can wake.

==–==

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little oneshot! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

@maribat-2k20

#Miraculous Ladybug #ML x DC #DC x MLB #Maribat #Timinette #MariTim #Timari #Tim X Marinette #Marinette x Tim #Maribat2k20 #Maribat2k20 Tim x Marinette #Maribat2k20 Day 1 #Maribat 2k20 Late Night Discussions #Our Faces are Hidden Behind Masks of Glass #OFaHBMoG #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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ladyofwisteria · 4 years ago

Text

Prologue pt1: Welcome to the Villains' world

Darkness all I see is darkness I can not tell if my eyes are open or not, nor if it was a just dream wait, did I even fall asleep It's dark and it feels like I'm floating so maybe this is a dream, and as to confirm what I was thinking I then hear a voice speak up.

"Ah...My lovely lord. My glorious, beautiful flower of evil.

You are the fairest in all the land.

Mirror, Mirror, pray tell. Who is the most..."

I then begin to hear the sound of a horse galloping and finally, I see something light up in front of me revealing a decorative framed mirror with a hand reaching out to me.

"You, who has been summoned by the Mirror of Darkness.

Listen to your heart's desire and take the hand of the one reflected in the mirror.

Feeling my body move on my own I reached out towards the mirror once I touched it the rippled and I get a flashing pain in my head and I received a vision of a battle between a giant feline beast covered in blue flames and Seven figures, and by the look of things the beast is winning and ready to unleased it's final attack. And just as quickly the vision appeared it vanished and I was back in darkness.

"Flames that can turn the moon to ashes,

Ice that can freeze time,

Earth that can swallow the sky,

Show no fear to the power of Darkness"

A new bright light appears blinding you till you noticed an unknown hand reach out towards you becoming you to take it.

"Come now, show me your power. We only have a little bit of time left.

At all cost, do not let go of that hand."

And thus, you take the hand and once more everything falls to black

~ Å ~

Prologue: Welcome to the Villains' world

Part 1: Welcome to Night Raven

'Where am I' I open my eyes once again to darkness but I felt like I was trapped inside a cramped box I desperately tried to find some way to open the box but to no avail but after a while, I've begun to hear something

"What's that noise"

I moved as close as I could and put my ear to the surface to listen better.

"I need to find a cloak and quickly," said a childish like voice I was about to call out for help until I heard what sounded like someone trying to push off the lid of my container.

"Grrr! The lid is heavy. Time for my... secret move! Guwaahuhh!

I didn't know what the person outside at first until I started to feel hot and not just me but the box as well, I started panicking until I heard the sound of wood snapping in front of me which is when I realize I now have an opportunity to escape so with a few hard pushes I finally got them off an threw myself forward.

"Gyaaaaa!?!?"

Not realizing that where I was held was elevated and fell face-first onto the floor. It took a few seconds for me to recover and picking myself up from the floor to have a look at my surroundings and my jaw drop.

The room was around gothic with floating coffins and in the middle of the room over a fountain of bright green water was the same mirror I saw in my dream or probably still am, what made me convinced about even more was when I turned around and saw who it was that got me off the coffin

"Ok, Gotta get..." The floating cat? looked inside the coffin only to find it empty but turns around to find me. "Whaaaaaaaaa! Why are you up!?"

"Ok, this has to be a dream, I'm in a room full of floating coffins and a talking Raccoon" I exasperated

"Just who are you calling a raccoon, I'm the great Grimm!" he yelled angrily "Anyway hurry up and give me those clothes!"

"What no way" I grab the sleeves of my outfit now taking a look at it realizes that it was not my pajamas but a black cloak with gold trims and purple inner layer.

"Give me those clothes or I'll roast ya!"

The floating raccoon let out a breath of blue fire, panicked I noticed a slightly open door and ran towards it.

"Forget it, I'm not going to have a dream about getting roasted by a freakin raccoon."

"I said I'm not a freakin raccoon!"

"Somebody help me" I yelled as I ran as fast as could through a long dark hallway and garden until I ran out of breath in what looked like a Library I took a quick look around to see if the flying raccoon was still flowing me.... they're gone I dropped to the floor to catch my breath.

"Please let this just be a bad dream, I just really want to wake up."

"Did you really think you'd get away from my nose? Dumb human!"

'Shit' I quickly turned to see the floating raccoon dog had caught up to me and blocking the only exit and I'm still trying to recover my breath 'I'm fucked'.

"If you don't wanna get roasted, better hand over-" before he could finish a cord came out of nowhere and bided the creature.

"Buwah? What's with this cord?

"This is no mere cord. This is the lash of love!"

Out from behind the creature was a tall sharply dressed man with a half raven themed mask, a black and white suit, over that is a black overcoat and top hat decorated black feathers, and mirror-like accessories on his hat and hip but what stood out the most was his glowing gold eyes.

'What the hell kind of dream is this?'

"Ah, found you at last. Are you one of the new students?"

'Wait, what'

"You shouldn't do things like that. Leaving the Gate on your own! Not only that, but you also have yet to tame your familiar which has broken a number of school rules."

"Um, sir he's not-."

"Let me go! I'm not their freakin' familiar!"

"Sure, sure. The rebellious ones always say things like that." He then summons more cord a tie it around Grim's moth. "Just quiet down for a moment"

"Mmmmmmghmmm!" Grim struggled to get out but with his arms a mouth cover it was made impossible.

"Um sir"

"My goodness. It's unprecedented for a new student to leave the Gate on their own. Ugh......How impatient can you be? The entrance ceremony is already well underway. Let's head to the Hall of Mirrors."

"Wait, what do you mean New Student? And what Gate?"

"It's the room you woke up in with all of the doors. All students who wish to attend this academy must pass through one of those doors to arrive here. Normally, students wake up only after the door is opened with a special key but"

"Well, his fire kind of blow the lid off" I point to Grim.

"So, in the end, the culprit appears to be this familiar. If you're going to bring it with you have the responsibility and properly take care of it."

"But sir he's not! "

"Oh my! Now isn't the time to be long-winded. The entrance ceremony will soon come to a close. Let's get a move on."

"Wait! " I yelled causing the man in front of me to halt. "Just who are you, and where exactly am I?"

The man looked at me confused

"What's this? Are you still dazed? It appears the teleportation magic has left you disoriented... Well, it's fine. It happens often enough. I shall give you an explanation as we make our way there. Since I am gracious."

After a few minutes, we began walking again I silent until we reached the courtyard since I was not distracted I was able to get a clear view of where I was.

"Wow this looks like a magic castle"

"That's because it is. This is 'Night Raven Collage'. Those magicians blessed with a unique aptitude for magic gather from all over the world, here at the most prestigious magical academy in Twisted Wonderland.

'Twisted Wonderland?' I sware the more crazy stuff that comes out of this guy's mouth the more convinced I am that this is just one weird dream.

"And I'm the principal, appointed to take care of this academy by the board chairman Dire Crowley."

"Wait, magicians?"

"Only those magicians seen as worthy by the Dark Mirror can attend this school. Chosen ones use the Gate and are summoned here from around the world. An Ebony carriage carrying a Gate should have gone to meet you as well"

Think back I then remembered something from my earlier dream.

"I think I remember hearing a horse and carriage"

"The Ebony Carriage goes to welcome new students chosen by the Dark Mirror. They are special carriages that carry the doors. The market decided long ago that carriages are used to welcome people on special days."

"So, you're saying that the carriage just brought me here on its own!?"

He continued explaining a bit more about the academy all the while Grim was trying to get our, before long we were back to set of doors which lead to a room that I ran out of earlier.

"Come. Let's go to the entrance ceremony."

#twisted wonderland #fanfic #OC is Main Character

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starblazerm31 · 5 years ago

Text

Diamonds

Well, it only took me forever, but I finally finished the oneshot I wrote to accompany this absolutely amazing pic I commissioned from @cherrygirl666 a while back.

1009 words

Rated M for language and strong citrus.

Lucio stormed through the palace. Both fists were clenched, and his brow dipped so low it almost touched the bridge of his nose. The nerve! The audacity! The GALL! That absolute rat fucking bastard! How dare he speak that way of the Count's intended?! Did he even KNOW who he was dealing with?!

Earlier, a meeting with a wealthy merchant prince went sour. As Lucio was showing him through the palace, the prince had gotten a glimpse of Azalea as they had passed by the room where she had been working with Portia. He had leered at her for a moment, before commenting about how he'd like to see if she screws as well as she cleans. This made Lucio's blood boil. That was HIS lover he was speaking of, not some mere servant. That woman had power over the most powerful man in the city. She was not to be disrespected. BUT! This trade agreement was months in the making, and Vesuvia needed this connection to further trade routes and international influence. Even though he oh-so-desperately wanted to have the impudent wretch's tongue cut out and fed to his moat eels...he had to let this one go. For now.

On the other hand, this was a fantastic example of why Lucio felt he was right. Azalea needed to start wearing the clothes he bought for her. She dressed far too plain to be viewed as the angel he saw her as, and the Court Magician. He rounded the corner and came upon the room where he last saw her. Surely enough, she was still in there but this time alone. Perfect. He entered and dramatically shut the doors behind him. Azalea looked up at him and a huge smile spread across her face. In an instant she was in Lucio's arms, covering his face with kisses. His foul mood lightened considerably.

"How did the meeting go, darling?" Azalea asked after she released him.

Lucio huffed. "Guy's an asshole. If this shit weren't so important to the city, I'd have his fat ass booted back to his own shithole." His face took on an angry pout. "And he disrespected you."

Azalea's eyes lit up and she gave a wicked grin. "Oh really? What did he say?"

Lucio looked at her incredulously. "It pissed me off pretty bad, okay? I wanted to kill that guy. Seriously."

Azalea's brow furrowed and she put a hand on Lucio's shoulder. "Oh, I see. Well, I'm glad you decided to ignore it."

"And that's the problem, ignorance," Lucio said. He walked over to the wall and leaned on it. "Baby, I appreciate your need to be independent and all, but on days like this...I wish you'd wear the outfits I bought for you. Asshole said he wondered if you screwed as well as you cleaned."

Azalea winced. "...Wow. That was harsh."

Lucio gave her a self-righteous look. "Wouldn'ta said that if you'd been wearing diamonds."

Azalea glared at him. "Lucio, I hate diamonds. I've told you this."

Lucio locked eyes with her and he took in the full force of her glare. It was absolutely adorable, but did hold a degree of intimidation that kept Lucio on his toes. But his eyes soon wandered down her face and neck to her collarbone, and the slope of her décolleté. All of that exposed skin gave him an idea. "If you don't like diamonds..." He reached out and took hold of her wrist with his gauntlet. He pulled her to him and pressed her back against the wall, using his right arm to cushion her head. "...Then I suppose I can give you other....accessories to flaunt." His mouth connected with the skin beneath her collarbone, and Azalea let out a small gasp at the sharp sting. He pulled away, looking over the small bruise left there. "Ah, a solitaire...but I think they look better in clusters." His mouth was on her again, sucking more small bruises into her skin. Azalea's back arched and a moan escaped her throat that brought a perverse smile to the count's lips.

His mouth moved to hers. The kiss was slow and sensual with their tongues dancing in a rhythm only they knew. Lucio felt the familiar fire course through his body and the kiss became more intense. Sweet whimpers came from Azalea as Lucio bit her bottom lip. He drew back slightly, pulling on her lip with his teeth until it slid free, glistening with his saliva and red from the pressure. He lunged forward and latched onto her neck with his teeth, drawing a sharp “Ah~!” out of Azalea. She clutched at his back, her nails digging into the fine white fabric as his teeth ground into her flesh.

“Oh, Lucio~...” she moaned.

The gilded count pulled away from his lover to stare into her love drunk eyes. “You like that, baby?” he purred.

All she could do was nod numbly.

He chuckled. “Good. ‘Cause I got one more for ya.”

His teeth sank into the skin amongst the other love bites he’d given her only moments before. Azalea cried out in bliss as his teeth and tongue ministered the most delicious magic on her body. Electric currents of pleasure coursed through her entire being and she pressed herself against him, her desire shamefully on display as she ground her hips against his leg. Lucio didn’t hold back, his saliva seeping from his greedy lips and down the slope of Azalea’s chest. Beads of perspiration formed on Azalea’s forehead and she tried as best as she could to hang on to him. With a loud and dirty slurp, Lucio released her skin and withdrew to gaze upon his handiwork. Red, angry tooth marks now decorated her décolleté, shamelessly vivid and unable to be hidden. Azalea gazed up at him, her expression dazed.

“Oooh...those will look amazing with that dress I got you,” Lucio growled. “Let’s see the look on that little shit’s face when you sit next to me at dinner tonight.” His smile was huge and devious. “And I’m gonna be extra handsy.”

Ko-Fi ☕

#starblazerm31 fic #the arcana fanfic #the arcana lucio #azalea nevra #the arcana apprentice #fan apprentice #azalea x lucio #cherrygirl666 art #lucio x apprentice

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of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog · 5 years ago

Text

Summer Day

Commissioned by the awesome @wombatking! I really hope I did your prompt justice! Commission info is here!

There were always going to be bitter days, but time with Samantha was usually less so.

Cassie woke at exactly 6AM without needing an alarm, and knew that this morning was going to bitter. The afternoon was her date with Sammy, so that would probably be alright; but she woke angry, and when Jenny, the carer her mom had hired, came in to help her get ready for the day, she couldn’t help scowling.

“Bad morning?” Jenny asked sympathetically, pulling back the blankets and checking the bed bag.

“Yeah,” Cassie muttered. She couldn’t take her anger out on Jenny, because she was nice, and knew her job, and never made Cassie feel bad about her lot in life. “Do I have any sores?”

Jenny checked her arms and legs quickly and thoroughly before starting the stretches. “Nope, and none beginning. We’ll check your back in the shower.”

Since today was going to be special, Cassie wished desperately to fuss, like she had before the jump. But Jenny didn’t fuss, and when Cassie got snappish, Jenny raised her eyebrow and said dryly, “Wow, I didn’t know it was your wedding today.”

Cassie stopped snapping, blushing. Who would want to be long-term with a quadriplegic person? she had once asked Jenny angrily. Who would want to tie themselves down to this?

Jenny had just shaken her head and replied, You never know.

That was before Samantha had told Cassie very firmly that unless something truly divisive came up, she was going to stick by her.

Cassie’s mood improved when Jenny and her mom helped her get dressed. Mom was still weird about this stuff, and cried over small things like Cassie never winning dance awards anymore, but she was mostly over herself. Cassie was forcing herself to be, if not cheerful, then at least calm, and that had seemed the help the whole house.

Today, she wanted to wear pink. So Jenny brought out her pink clothes and when Cassie had decided on an outfit, Jenny and mom helped her dress, like a life-size doll. It was embarrassing, but it got less so as the weeks passed. Almost a year, now.

Cassie really couldn’t believe it, but here it was. Almost a full year.

“Do you want help with your hair, baby?” Mom asked, looking worried.

“Nah, it’s fine. Sammy’s gonna help me.” Cassie couldn’t decide if it was humiliating or fun, that Samantha was so good at doing her hair. On the one hand, it felt nice, because Samantha was so gentle. On the other… well. Cassie looked down at her arms and willed with all her might for the left one to move. It didn’t. As usual.

At least Dad had sprung for a nice chair. A motorized one; the physical therapist had called it a “sip-and-puff” which Cassie would have found hilarious if she weren’t bound to it completely. But she was getting really good at driving it without having to think too hard about how to turn a corner or how to go up the little lip at the bottom of the front door. Mom still hovered, but Jenny, an experienced nurse, didn’t bother.

Meals were always soured by the fact that she needed help. Before, she could shovel a bowl of cereal in her mouth in a few minutes and be out the door; now she had to eat at the pace Jenny set, and couldn’t even feel if she was hungry or full. Well, it was nice to never feel hungry; but at the cost of not feeling anything else? Not worth it.

Still. She ate, and managed to get Mom to talk about things other than doctors. Then she went and practiced with that new software, Dragon, since she would still be expected to turn in essays in school. She refused to be home-schooled. She had nothing against home-schooling; but the thought of being stuck in this house, only allowed out with Jenny or mom like a dog on a leash, made her angry. She was going to do as much as she could to cling to normalcy.

Noon hit and her phone buzzed a text alert.

Jenny picked up her phone and gave her the mouth-stick that she still wasn’t that familiar with, and Cassie eagerly unlocked the phone and opened messages.

Sammy: I’ll be over soon! Shoes are on!

Cassie hit the heart emoji three times and then send. Jenny smiled as she took the stick back. “Soon?” she asked.

Cassie nodded, grinning. “Can you help me get my shoes on?”

Samantha was getting used to the giant van instead of Cassie’s mom’s dinky sedan, but it still made her stomach twist.

Oh well. She smiled as she parked and got out. She had brought those butterfly hair clips that Cassie had been eyeing at the mall on their last date, and a new pinky-peach lipstick. It would match her favorite heels.

Samantha knocked smartly on the front door. Cassie’s mom answered, plastering on a fake smile. She still didn’t approve of Samantha, but honestly, that was her own problem. Samantha just smiled and said, “Hello, Mrs. Shapiro. Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course.”

All awkward conversation was stalled by Cassie zooming out of the living room and halting sharply just a few feet away. Samantha closed the rest of the distance and hugged her, delighting in the soft scent of eucalyptus from Cassie’s hair and ignoring the stiff plastic smell of the chair. “Got you a present,” Samantha said as she let go, and took the packet with the lipstick and clips out of her packet. The look of delight on Cassie’s face made Samantha’s tummy flutter.

“Oh gosh, they’re so cute!” Cassie gushed. “Aren’t those the ones we saw at the mall?”

“Yep. I doubled back when I brought you home.”

Cassie laughed and Samantha smiled wider.

Cassie was one of those people who had a vanity in her room with all her makeup and hair stuff there. Samantha was glad of it these days; more room to maneuver. She was still so excited that Cassie trusted her to do her hair, and Samantha took care to make sure she never regretted it. It helped that Cassie’s hair was absolutely gorgeous, thick and strong, gold like wheat in the sun or watered honey or—

“Are you going to braid it or keep brushing it until the beach closes?” Cassie asked, bringing Samantha back to the present.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”

Cassie smiled at her in the mirror, and Samantha smiled back, shyly.

A few gentle curls at the side of Cassie’s face, the rest braided and gathered into a flat bun, and the butterfly clips in a vague ring around Cassie’s head, like a crown. Samantha had often thought of Cassie as a kind of royalty, and the accident hadn’t changed that thought. Makeup next. Samantha had been a disaster with it before Cassie first helped her with highlight and glittery eye shadow; now she knew exactly how to do Cassie’s makeup, and there was definitely a tenderness and level of trust in applying lipstick that made Samantha blush.

“You’re so cute,” Cassie murmured affectionately when Samantha lifted the applicator.

“And you’re the most beautiful,” Samantha retorted quietly, blushing harder.

Cassie laughed. “How long until this dries?” she asked. “I need to kiss you thank-you.”

Samantha shrugged. “Not long, I think.” She licked her thumb and gently corrected some eyebrow pencil. “There. Good. Gosh, you’re beautiful.”

“You said that already,” Cassie replied, grinning and blushing.

“Well, you are, so there.”

They were going to visit the beach. Not the sand, the chair wouldn’t work on sand; but the dock, definitely. They would get ice cream and judge old men on their dress-sense and maybe meet up with that nice older lady who wrote Harlequin novels and was so absolutely filthy that she put Samantha and Cassie’s classmates to shame. She was fun, though. And Samantha would get to see Cassie smiling at the sunset.

Cassie’s mom asked worriedly if they were sure they didn’t want her or Jenny to come to. Cassie frowned and said “No, we’ll be fine.”

“Call if you need anything,” Cassie’s mom insisted, then got out of the way.

Samantha helped with the ramp and securing the chair in the van, then leaned up and kissed Cassie quickly before getting into the driver’s seat. Cassie giggled and Samantha blushed.

The whole drive, they talked about Samantha’s latest research hole, butterflies and moths. Cassie laughed more than she did in public. That made Samantha happy.

There was a handicap spot open at the beach parking lot. Samantha swooped in quickly, and when a little old lady slammed her horn at Samantha, she ignored it and just got to work helping Cassie out. The horn-blaring stopped when Cassie came into view.

“Mean old tart,” Cassie muttered.

“She just didn’t know,” Samantha replied, and slid Cassie’s sunglasses on her face. “Better?”

“Yeah. Let’s go!”

Cassie enjoyed the fresh air and smiled at the happy children, and ignored the stares. Samantha walked close, less out of obnoxious hovering and more out of shyness. She was getting more outgoing, but sometimes she just wasn’t really very extroverted. That was fine, though Cassie desperately wanted to hold her hand.

“Ice cream first?” Cassie asked brightly, smiling up at Samantha. The other girl smiled back, blushing. She’d only braided back the front locks of her hair, leaving the rest fiery and wild, and it showed off her adorable freckles.

“Yeah, that works,” Samantha said. “And then we can check if there’s anything new at Gigi’s giftshop.”

“Oh, yes, perfect!”

They strolled down the boardwalk, talking. Samantha had started researching all kinds of bugs, but was also researching plants, and Cassie loved to watch Samantha’s face light up as she talked about specialized relationships between insects and plants. They reached the ice cream shop without incident, and Samantha bought two bowls of vanilla ice cream, one smothered in chocolate and the other smothered in caramel. They claimed one of the few tables and Samantha fed Cassie her ice cream slowly, both of them giggling. With helpers at meals, Cassie felt a deep resentment; when it was fun with Samantha, who legitimately only saw her as a girlfriend, not someone to take care of, it was a lovely time.

Little kids were staring. Cassie ignored them, and focused on telling Samantha about all the advancements Jenny had told her about. How her uncle had bought her speech-to-text software, and she was getting better at it, and how eventually her mom was going to replace the creaky shoddy temporary ramp with a nice solid one with proper tread. Samantha was encouraging, and never got uncomfortable or tried to turn the subject. This was Cassie’s life, now. There was no point pretending it wasn’t.

They were just starting to talk about the coming school year (gosh it was so cute when Samantha put her chin in her hand like that and just looked at Cassie) when an older woman walking by asked, in truly confused tone, “You’re going to school? Like that?”

Samantha tensed, her fingers curling and her face going hard. Cassie smiled at the lady sweetly, putting as much anger into her eyes as she could.

“Yes, I am,” she said. “I don’t see why I shouldn’t.”

“Well, you—I—” The woman realized she had well and truly fucked up, and flushed, looking guilty. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, and hurried away.

“Bitch,” Samantha muttered at the woman’s retreating back.

Cassie didn’t reply.

Gigi’s giftshop wasn’t as crowded as usual. There were new gewgaws on display, though; pottery, mostly, probably made by Gigi’s siblings’ children. There were some very nice stone-chip bracelets, and Cassie insisted on purchasing two matching ones. Samantha blushed and was very tender, fastening the bracelet around Cassie’s unresponsive wrist.

They went to grab snacks as they slowly went down the boardwalk, looking out at the ocean and the beach. It was getting cold; people were packing up and leaving. They paused by the rail, to watch the sunset. Cassie’s breath caught in her throat at the fiery sky touching the dark ocean with brightness. The raw glory of another day by the ocean seized her throat, reminding her that there was more to this world than one small human body, one small human life. The reds and oranges looked like Samantha’s hair. The blue waves looked like her favorite necklace, the once Cassie had made for her three days before the accident. Cassie looked up at Samantha, and caught her staring at Cassie with the tenderest expression. A bit excited, a bit reverent, a bit hopeful, a bit sad—and so loving that Cassie felt like crying.

The sunset played golden on Samantha’s cheek and woke the amber highlights in her hair.

“You’re really beautiful,” Samantha said softly.

“Not as beautiful as you,” Cassie replied, just as softly.

Samantha didn’t want to go home. She wanted to stay over at Cassie’s and cuddle and watch dumb Netflix shows. But her own parents were expecting her for dinner, and Cassie admitted that her mom was going through a weird phase of keeping mealtimes strict, and she wouldn’t have planned for a fifth person at dinner.

So they drove back to Cassie’s, talking softly and sparingly. Samantha greatly enjoyed the quiet times, just being near Cassie with nothing to do or say. She wasn’t sure if Cassie liked those times, but she snatched them when she could.

It was very selfish of her. But she told herself it wasn’t as selfish as forcing her company and talking on Cassie when she was quiet of her own volition.

“I want you to stay the night,” Cassie said very softly, when Samantha had parked the van.

“Our parents will be annoyed,” Samantha pointed out reluctantly, turning in her seat to look up at Cassie. Her curls had straightened from the dampness of the sea air, but they still looked adorable on her, as did the mulish look. “And I didn’t bring any pajamas.”

“You can borrow mine,” Cassie replied. “And mom and dad can get over it.”

Samantha thought for a moment, looking into Cassie’s face. And she realized that Cassie was more important than the scolding she’d get from her own parents.

“Okay,” she said. “But I’m not explaining to your mom why I’m still here. She’s scary.”

Cassie laughed. Samantha couldn’t stop a grin. “Fair enough! Let’s get inside. What do you want to watch after dinner?”

#writing #commission #there was so much to the prompt that I couldn't fit in I'm mad it was all so AWESOME #romance

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 6 years ago

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Festival of Love AU Part 1

Chapter 1 - Thursday morning

Lucas was desperate. It would be a long weekend and it was hot outside. He didn’t want to pack too much. The bag should be as light as possible, at least they had to get everything by walking to their campsite.

He stood in front of his open wardrobe and stared at his clothes for almost 15 minutes. Why did he have so many clothes? He had already put his trousers out. Three shorts that he had already changed once. It was hard. He knew he wouldn’t come to shower much, but also that his clothes were probably dirty by the end of the weekend, depending on how much they escalated.

Arthur had come up with the idea that they could all go to a festival together. The guys had been thrilled and through Basile the girls had also heard about the plan and were immediately thrilled. And now they went with almost twenty people to a music festival. They were already shopping. Many many beer cans had landed in the car, two pavilions were bought, tents, canned food and actually hardly anything healthy. Let’s see what the girls would bring. The smoker’s heart was also taken care of. And everything else they could buy on the spot in a small shop in the area.

But what the hell was Lucas supposed to take with him in clothes? Was it really important to him what he was wearing? He just wanted to spend a nice weekend with his friends. He didn’t know half the people. A few older boys came along, friends of Emma’s boyfriend and a few mates of Arthur, but they didn’t really have much to do with them.

Annoyed, he threw the trousers back into the cupboard and grabbed two older ones, which were allowed to get dirty easily. He did the same with the T-shirts, simply reaching into the bottom of the stack and pulling out the first three shirts. He was planning to buy a T-shirt st the festival anyway. And of course the swimming shorts had to be there. Arthur had enthusiastically reported that there would be a lake where you could swim and the weather would be really bombastic.

He stuffed everything in his bag with the rest of his stuff and sat next to it. He was to be picked up in half an hour. With the car it was not three hours to the campground. They had been distributed to the cars, because not all of them had a driver’s license yet. They had divided by districts and Lucas was supposed to ride with Alex, at least someone he knew.

The groceries had already been split between the cars and cool bags. Everyone had to carry his package.

He grabbed his sunglasses and stepped out of his room, ready to start the weekend.

“Ahhh, let me look at you,” Mika shouted from the kitchen as he heard Luca’s room door and hurried into the hall. He stopped in amazement. “Lucas! You’re going to a festival! You really want to wear that,” he asked with his eyebrow raised.

Lucas looked down at himself. He was wearing short jeans and a dark blue T-shirt. “What’s wrong with my outfit” he asked hesitantly.

“Nothing” was Mika’s simple answer. “It simply is not right. Where are the colours? The lust for life and music? Why is my dear friend so sad?” and without waiting for another word, Mika reached for Luca’s bag, fished out his clothes and disappeared into his room. Lucas stayed bewildered. What had just happened? Why couldn’t he dress the way he was comfortable? Why did one have to show off? Rolling his eyes, he went after Mika and when he entered the room, a yellow tank top flew towards him, “Try this on, it should actually fit, but trying goes over studying”.

Lucas looked at the shirt in horror. “I’m not putting that on!”

“Now don’t act like that or should I help you undress? No problem,” he turned to him and Lucas gave in. “All right, but just because I try this on, I won’t take it with me.” “That’s only fair. I just want to see how it looks on you.”

“Happy?” Lucas wasn’t feeling great. At most he wore such tops for sports, but Mika shone at him. “Oh my God! You look… well really Lucas, you look hot! I didn’t even know you had muscles in your upper arms” he shouted laughing and pinched Lucas in his biceps. “And the shirt fits so well to your pants. Please do us both the favor and take it with you and put it on!” Beaten Lucas let his head hang. “All right, I’ll take it with me, but I can’t promise I’ll wear it.” A ray spread over Mica’s face. “Perfect. And you take this with you, too,” and he handed Lucas a dark blue shirt with a rainbow flag on it. “Really Mika? Are you serious?” “Hey, the flag stands for so much! Joy of life, tolerance, peace and of course it serves as a good identification mark,” and he winked at Lucas. “Apropos,” he went to his bedside table and rummaged through it. With an even bigger grin he came back and stuffed a handful of condoms in Lucas’ bag, “just in case.” he sad with a huge grin on his face. “Mika, I’m not planning on doing anything on the weekend and when should I use all these condoms at all? We are only there until Monday morning!” He inevitably had to laugh.

“You never know what’s waiting for you or who’s expecting you there.” Was Mika’s simple reply.

Lucas took the T-shirt from his hand and stuffed it into his bag with the yellow shirt he tried on. He put on his own shirt again and was happy to feel the safe, comfortable fabric and colour on his body. “And now it’s enough! I don’t want to attract too much attention!

"Just one more! Please, please, please” Mika begged with dog eyes. “What is it?” Lucas wanted to sound more annoyed than he actually did. Seeing Mika in such a good mood was just too contagious. Mika stood in front of his chest of drawers and with a “Tadaaaaaaa!” he turned around and held up mirrored sunglasses in the shape of a heart. “Wow,” Lucas was missing the words. “Take it and wear it with pride!”, Mika solemnly handed him the glasses and Lucas had to confess, the glasses looked very cool after all.

“Okay, this one is great,” Lucas admitted and Mika’s smile didn’t fit into his face anymore.

Lucas hadn’t paid any attention to the time anymore and got a little jumpy when the door opened and Manon came in and revealed that Alex was there to pick them up.

“Ohhh, you two, I wish you a lot of fun! Manon, watch out for my little butterfly and Lucas, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” and with a wink he pushed them out the door, “We’ll see you guys on Monday!”

Laughing and a little excited, they went down the stairs. Emma and Alex stood outside and waited. Kisses here, kisses there and Alex took the bags off and stowed them expertly in the trunk.

“Manon, Lucas, you have to squeeze a little in the back seat, decide who wants to sit in the middle,” Emma sat relaxed in the passenger seat and started playing the music until she found a song she liked.

Both Lucas and Manon looked into the car. On the back seat sat a tall young man, his hair tousled and yet stylish. He had his head leaned against the window and his eyes closed. How could he sleep with the music?

“May I introduce Eliott. He fell asleep as soon as we started. I’d like to have such peace and quiet,” they heard Alex say from the trunk.

Manon looked at Lucas. “I’m sitting in the middle, you probably want to get some sleep or have a look at the landscape,” she grinned at him.

Sure. He had shouldered his neck pillow, let her slide into the middle and then made himself comfortable next to her. It was tight and warm on the back seat, and he looked enviously forward, where Emma was stretching on the front seat.

The ride dragged on like rubber. Emma had considered to play the music of the less or not at all known artists, which were going to perform at the festival, during the drive so that one wouldn’t miss any jewel. And damn, there were weird sounds. A couple of bands sounded pretty good and for others Lucas didn’t understand that someone actually paid money to see or hear them.

The country roared past them. Lucas enjoyed the view. Like the calm before the storm he absorbed the environment, lost himself in the green of the meadows and trees, in the blue of the lakes and rivers they passed and let the light of the sun shine on his face. He closed his eyes and in front of his inner eye the sunspots danced up and down and he had to smile. He was about to lean back and make himself comfortable with his neck pillow, when a quiet strange sound interrupted the silence of the car, which had settled over everyone after about half the distance, only the music could still be heard.

“Alex, can you turn the music up a little bit? I love this band!” Eliott had apparently recovered.

Alex grinned in the rear view mirror and turned up the music. Next to Lucas he felt Manon moving and suddenly he heard it. Eliott really had to be a fan of this band. Curious, Lucas turned his head to the side to convince himself that he had not misheard. Watching Eliott sitting happily in his seat, slightly bent forward, his head rocking to the music and gesticulating with his hands, singing along, Lucas had to grin. It came as a surprise and the whole car was suddenly charged with energy. Manon and Emma also started bobbing slightly in time and joined in the refrain and soon the car was filled with crooked sounds and cheerfulness.

And Lucas? Lucas bounced his foot slightly, he was unable to do more. He couldn’t take his eyes off Eliott as he sat there beaming, his eyes closed and living the music he apparently really loved. Fascinated, he stared at him, watching his hair swaying with every movement, his hands painting imaginary images in the air as he moved them to the music. But Lucas kept looking back at that face. Eliott looked so peaceful, so absolutely alive in that moment, and every time the sun grazed his face, it was as if he was shining, but perhaps it was his general smile that made him shine.

After the song was over, Eliott came to rest again, still smiling, he opened his eyes and looked around, and his gaze remained with Lucas, who was still staring at him, and even though that was hardly possible, Eliott began to smile even more than before and grey eyes met blue eyes and Lucas knew he was lost.

Suddenly it darkened around Lucas. Manon leaned slightly forward and stretched out her hand to Eliott. “Hello. I’m Manon. It’s nice that you’re with us now, the ride seems to be getting pretty lively after all.”

Eliott laughed briefly, then took her hand and while he greeted Manon and introduced himself, he leaned a little forward to catch Luca’s gaze: “Nice to meet you. I’m Eliott.” And there it was again. That radiant smile that made the sun look dark in comparison and that made Lucas feel slightly dizzy.

With a light smile on his lips, Lucas nodded to Eliott and turned his face back to the window. He wasn’t able to withstand that look any longer. It was as if Eliott were looking directly into his soul and recognized his deepest desires, hopes and fears.

Manon was already chattering happily and Eliott was distracted and devoted his attention to Manon, but he let his gaze wander to Lucas from time to time. Lucas stared out of the window, but hardly noticed the landscape. He was too busy not looking at Eliott all the time. He felt the other person’s gaze on him. Curious eyes that briefly watched him before concentrating on Manon again. Lucas took advantage of these moments and watched from the corner of his eye as Eliott sat gesticulating and told Manon about some band.

He was so full of energy and enthusiasm and Lucas had to smile automatically.

Yes, he was definitely lost.

#skam france #skam france fic #elu #elu fic #skamfr fic #eliott x lucas #myfic #prompt wish #your wish is my command #AU #festival of love

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godyouredull · 6 years ago

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Oh, I’m In Trouble | All You Have To Do Is Fall In Love AU

Author: Sarah - @godyouredull Pairing: Ben Hardy / OFC Rating: T Word Count: 6.2k POV: Sarah Warnings: series warnings, aggressive frat guys Summary: Sarah makes a risky decision at a frat party and is overwhelmingly pleased with the outcome.

Masterlist found here! Series Summary: Best friends and college roommates Ben, Joe, and Gwil, find themselves tangled up with a group of girls who bring out the best (and worst) in them. Series Warnings: drinking, swearing Authors’ Note: Stories can stand alone, but it’s much better when read all together! Not everything is always in the same tense, or same point of view/perspective.

How do I always get talked into going to these things? Within 15 minutes of arriving to a frat house, whose name I never remember for more than 5 seconds, I immediately regret it. Truly the best part of going out like this is getting ready with the girls so we can come up with a game plan while blaring the same obnoxious pop music. But, inevitably, every time I step out the door I immediately contemplate walking back inside. Oh well, no use wasting a cute as fuck outfit I suppose. And hey there’s free alcohol, right? Right.

“Hey!” Ella snaps me out of my thoughts, “You’re not gonna leave early tonight, are you? I hate when you do that.”

“No,” I sigh dejectedly, “I’ll stay long enough to get drunk but seriously Ella, as soon as you have a target in sight, you tell me, okay?”

“I know, I know. I won’t abandon you without warning.” She says as she links her arm in mine. “NOW, let’s get drinks.”

We walk arm in arm out to the back deck, where the ever flowing amount of alcohol seems to always be, accompanied by the obnoxious shouts and whoops of the household residents. It’s the usual scene: beer pong table, keg, random lawn chairs and a good amount of handles on the dirtiest table you’ll see in your life.

“Alright well, what’ll it be? Lukewarm beer or liquor without a mixer?’ I ask in the most enthusiastic voice I can muster.

“Complain all you want. You’re not paying for it, are you?” She’s got a point. I’m still trying to decide if it’s worth it though. “Stop complaining and tap the keg.”

“I love it when you get demanding.”

“You have no idea.” She says half laughing.

“Alright, pipe down. There’s options out here.” She begins to scout the talent while I look around for the tap. How has this keg not been tapped yet?

“Whoa. They’re kind of cute.” She points to a team of guys playing beer pong. They are cute. The one with darker hair is definitely the more outgoing of the two, getting way too excited when he makes the next shot with ease. His partner though, has blonde hair and seems to just be along for the ride, maybe even sober.

“They’re alright.” I say, trying to play it off. At the same moment, the blonde looks around the yard, clearly getting bored with the beer pong game. When his eyes land on me, though, he doesn’t look away but… neither do I.

“He’s staring at you.” I hear Ella whisper. Of course, I’m aware of this as I’m blatantly staring right back. Damn, he’s good looking. “Go talk to him.”

“No, no. He’s a frat dude, Ella. You know that’s not my thing.” I finally tear my eyes away from cute blonde boy to focus on the task at hand: keg tapping. As I line the notches of the tap with the hole of the keg, a voice stops me.

“Need some help with that?” Some part of me hopes it’s cute blonde boy, but when I look up, that hope disappears. It’s not cute blonde boy, just another generic frat guy.

“Uh, no thank you. I can handle it.” Now go away.

“You sure? No offense but these things have a tendency to explode whenever a girl tries to tap it.” Jesus. Where the hell is Ella?

I scoff and contemplate punching him. Instead, I screw the tap into place and push down, sliding it into place. Grabbing a solo cup, I pour myself a pint and stare at this douchebag straight in the eye until the cup is completely full.

“Nope, I think I got it.”

“Wow, impressive.”

“Okay, I’m walking away now.” I manage to take about two steps before I feel his grip around my elbow.

“Whoa, whoa. Hang on a second.” He spins me around so I’m facing him again. Maybe I am going to punch someone tonight. This is truly the last time I come to a frat party.

“I have to go find my friend actually. She was right next to me a second ago.” My eyes scan the room, searching desperately for Ella who I may or may not need to come rescue me from this asshole.

“What’s your name?” He asks, ignoring my previous statement.

“Could you not grip my arm when you’re talking to me?” I try to twist my arm out of his grip but he’s unfortunately much stronger than I am.

“Someone ought to teach you some manners, sweetheart.” His lips are inches from my ear and I immediately push him off.

“You’re one to talk you fucking assho— “

“HEY,” Another voice chimes in, “Pretty sure she doesn’t want to talk to you, mate.” Holy shit. It’s cute blonde boy. He’s stepped in between me and the jackass, arm held out in front of me as if to create some kind of protective barrier. A couple bystanders have begun to notice the situation and watch to see if these guys start throwing fists.

“Alright, whatever, she’s all yours.” The jackass walks away with his hands up in surrender. Thank God. If there had really been a fight I’m not sure what I would’ve done.

Once he’s gone, cute blonde boy turns around to face me.

“Hey, hear that? How kind of him to hand me over like that. We were really hitting it off too.” I say sarcastically. He laughs.

“You okay?” Whoa. He’s got a deep, British accent.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Thank you for that. I wish I could say that’s the first or last time that’s bound to happen.”

“It’s not something you should have to get used to.” He sounds genuine. Interesting. “I’m not sure why I keep coming to these parties. All these guys are the worst.”

“You’re not one of them?” The plot thickens. He looks slightly offended at the question.

“Do I come off as one?”

“Well, it’s hard to say.” I can’t help it; I smile. “We just met.” He smiles back.

“Right, yeah. That’s fair.” He looks down and brings his fingers up to his bottom lip and pinches it between his thumb and pointer finger. Damn he’s cute.

“And you do have that classic frat look, you know? Kinda hot, kinda douchey.” He looks up again. Shit.

“So you think I’m hot?” Damn.

“And douchey, lest we forget that part.” I say as I accusingly point at him. He doesn’t respond, just laughs. His eyes are so green. I’m staring again. Okay, take a sip of your beer, Sarah.

“Eugh. That’s a little too lukewarm for my taste.” I say as I set the cup down on a nearby table. Which is partially true but mostly I’m just trying to keep the conversation going.

“Well, we could always go somewhere else.” He suggests.

“Uh, well I think this is pretty much the extent of the drink choices.” I say, gesturing to the disgusting table with various handles. Maybe I will just switch to liquor if I’m gonna spend any more time with cute blonde boy.

“Oh, no I mean we could get out of here. Leave the party.” He says casually.

“Whoa whoa, easy. I don’t even know your name.” He’s already asking me back to his place?

“NO n—I didn’t mean... like we can find a bar or take a walk or something.” He stutters through the suggestion, his cheeks turning a bit pink. I stay silent and smile at his slight embarrassment. “I’m Ben, by the way.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ben. And I actually would love to leave this place.” Where the HELL is Ella? “Have you seen my friend though? She was standing with me earlier.”

“Earlier? Like when you were shamelessly staring at me playing beer pong?” His tongue sticks out of his mouth ever so slightly as he smiles and it’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. My jaw drops.

“Excuse me! I’m pretty sure it was you staring at me.”

“Sure, sure.” He mumbles.

“Plus you were barely even playing. Your friend seemed to be carrying most of the weight there.” I accuse him.

“Yeah, well I get bored at these things easily, hence my wanting to go somewhere else.”

“These parties do get old quick, I’ll give you that.” I pause, looking at him intently while wondering if I’m really gonna leave with a man I just met. He did just save me from a frat douchebag and for some reason I find myself trusting him.

“So, are you really up for ditching it?”

“I really am. Let me just find my friend first and let her know.”

We both do a quick scan of the room before finding her engrossed in a game of pong. She’s in her element. A couple of guys are watching her as she downs a beer like it’s no problem.

“Ella!” I walk towards her, Ben following behind me.

“Sarah! Be my partner! We could destroy these assholes.”

“You’re not wrong but I actually came to check on you. I think I’m gonna head out.”

“What?! You’re leaving?”

“Well,” I look behind me to make sure Ben isn’t too close. “Remember that blonde guy who was staring at me earlier? I’m leaving with him.” Her eyes widen. She steals a glance at him, standing a good length away talking to another one of his friends.

“Well, damn girl.” She looks at him again.

“Ella, stop! Don’t be obvious.”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.” She’s still looking in their direction. “Who’s his friend? I think he’s in my philosophy class.” I follow her gaze to see Ben talking somewhat intensely to another tall, dark haired guy who looks way too sophisticated to be at a frat house.

“I don’t know. He’s cute though.” I admit. She continues to stare at the friend, eyebrows slightly raised.

“I’ll say.”

“Alright, down girl.” We laugh. “Are you good? Will you be okay without me?”

“Yeah! Go be with surfer boy.” She clears her throat. “He’s coming. Be cool.” We both adjust our stance so we’re standing up a little straighter.

“You ready?” Ben is suddenly right behind me, hand on the small of my back.

“Yeah let’s go.” I turn back to Ella. “Hey! Call me if you need me.” She nods and makes obscene gestures as I walk out with Ben.

“Her name’s Ella?” He asks.

“Yeah, why?”

“My mate was just asking me about her. Thinks she’s cute or something.” I laugh knowingly. Looks like Ella’s in for a good time tonight too.

“Wait, before we leave…” I stop him from walking any further.

“What?”

“Wait here. I’m gonna steal a handle.”

“You’re gonna—what?” His accent is so strong. Even the way he says ‘what’ is hot.

“Wait here!” I exclaim as I walk back onto the back deck. Tonight wasn’t the night to wear a velvet crop top. Looks like I’m gonna improvise. Doing another quick scan of the options, I spot a larger handle of Fireball on a small table in the corner. That’ll work, but how will I hide it? Can’t hide it. Alright, Plan B then.

Grabbing the handle as quickly as possible, I tuck it under my arm and speed walk to where I left Ben.. Grabbing his hand with my free one, I urge him.

“C’mon let’s go!”

“Wait wha—I—okay.” He stutters but follows my motions as we briskly walk out of the house as fast as we can without looking too suspicious. Luckily, it’s a mess inside the house so if anyone notices, they don’t stop us. We make it out the front door and he’s laughing in a confused manner, our hands still linked.

“Mission accomplished.” I say, holding up the Fireball as we walk down the street.

“Fireball? You smuggled Fireball.”

“The classics never go out of style, Benjamin.” I defend my liquor of the choice.

“It’s just Ben.”

“It’s not.”

“What do you mean it’s not?” His voice raises an octave but he chuckles.

“If we’re going to be friends you’re gonna have to get used to me calling you by your full name. It’s my thing.”

“You’re really gonna call me that?” He says in mild disbelief.

“Only in certain situations.” Now I’m laughing. This whole situation is weird. I’m walking down a random street, holding hands with a guy I just met, with a handle of Fireball tucked under my arm.

“You know I still don’t know your name” He points out.

“Uh... They call me Trixie on the weekends.” I joke, not sure if I should really give him my real name.

“Wait wh— “

“Yeah it’s a tough line of work but the money’s good.” I say as deadpan as I possibly can. He stops walking.

“Are you joking?” His eyes squint a bit as he asks. I take this opportunity to drop his hand and open the Fireball, taking a swig as I start laughing.

“Yes,” He shakes his head, “But you almost believed me, didn’t you? I like that. I’m Sarah.”

“I think I’m still gonna call you Trixie.” He’s still shaking his head but he starts walking again. “Pass that over.”

“I think I’m more of a Trixie, honestly.” I say as I hand him the bottle. I want to hold his hand again but that’s weird, right? Probably not a good idea. If I’m being honest what I really want to do is jump him right here in the street but that’s definitely weird. Don’t wanna come off too strong.

“I’m gonna hold your hand again, okay?” He declares, catching me completely off guard.

“Works for me.” I exhale as he links our fingers again. Thank God it’s so dark outside because I am absolutely positive I’m blushing.

“So, Trixie,” He drags out the name. I’m already regretting that bit. “Where to now?”

“Well I think we’re set on drinks,” I say motioning to the full handle, “So, let’s just keep walking? See what we find.”

“Works for me.” He almost whispers. How is one person’s voice so deep?

“Much better than a frat party, right?”

“Well, I don’t know. One good thing came from that party.” He smirks.

We’ve been walking down this random street for a while now and I’m extremely glad I decided to take an Uber to that damn party instead of drive. I’m also glad I wore converse instead of the uncomfortable flats Michaela suggested. It’s been about an hour and Ben’s managed to cover a fairly wide range of topics. He’s not in a fraternity, though one of his roommates, Joe, is, hence his attendance at tonight’s party and quite a few others. He’s studying acting and drama in school and he moved to the U.S. because he thought it would give him a better chance at being successful in the business, but he misses home a lot and travels back as much as he can. Despite being incredibly attractive, he doesn’t seem to use it to his advantage which means my first impression was wrong. He hasn’t let go of my hand nor has he made any attempt to take things much further. Refreshing and I guess kind of infuriating because the more he talks, the further I do want to take it. Damn the brits and their tendencies to be perfect gentlemen.

“Are you hungry at all?” He asks.

“I could eat, yeah.” Oh right, forgot to mention that I haven’t eaten since before the party and I’ve now drank a significant amount of Fireball. I’m playing it off though. I think.

“I only ask because you’re stumbling a little.” Okay, maybe not.

“Right, well this sidewalk isn’t paved very well.”

“I’ve heard Fireball can do that. Put cracks and bumps into pavement and whatnot.” He says sarcastically.

“Benjamin. Was that a joke? You’re making jokes at my expense now.” I accuse as I put my hand on my chest like a 19th century Southern woman. He shrugs.

“I’m just trying to keep up with you. Which is becoming easier because you’re, you know, stumbling.”

This is good, us bantering like this. Everything feels light and a bit less real so there’s no pressure. I find myself hoping we continue this for the rest of tonight. Maybe even tomorrow morning. Damn he’s already got me breaking my rules? Not good. Or maybe good? Ugh.

“Well if you would drink your share of the Fireball, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

“Sarah, it’s Fireball.”

“Oh god, sorry there were no mojitos for me to swipe.” His drink of choice, as I had learned. “I’ll make a mental note for next time.”

“Next time? You plan on stealing alcohol from a frat party again?”

“I think you could talk me into almost anything, Benjamin.” He blushes at this and stutters a little bit, like he’s thinking about what exactly he wants to talk me into. Good.

“Except I didn’t talk you into this! You did that all on your own.”

“Uh huh. Good luck finding someone to believe that. From what I’ve seen, you’re quite the troublemaker.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He shakes his head while smiling. Have I mentioned how much I wanna jump him? Damn I’m tipsy.

“You mentioned food. You have something in mind? Because I don’t even know where we are.” I admit. We’re definitely still in the same neighborhood as the frat house because all we’ve passed are houses but I’m hoping, since he apparently frequents that frat house, he has an idea of what else is around us.

“I know a place. Come on, drunky.” He pulls my hand in the other direction and I briefly lose my balance, using his shoulder to steady myself. We’re inches away from each other, his green eyes directly in front of my face. “Sidewalk trip you up again? Someone should really repave this.” Before I can even respond, he turns away and starts walking again.

I exhale shakily and follow him, weak in the knees for a brand new reason.

“A taco truck?”

It was another fifteen minute walk to get to our destination: a food truck that Ben apparently frequents after he’s been out all night. It’s parked in the middle of a nearby town center that I know I’ve been to before but never found a reason to go back.

“It’s really good, I promise.”

As we walk up to the counter, he lets go of my hand and puts it on the small of my back, leading me to look at the menu. To be honest, I’m not really that hungry but I know I should eat because I don’t want to stop drinking but I also don’t want to keep making a fool of myself.

“I’ll just have whatever you’re having.” I say looking at the menu. He’s looking at me though, rubbing my back with his thumb. I can’t honestly be expected to be focused on food when he’s touching me like this. The fucker.

“You trust me then?” He asks innocently.

“Well you did save me earlier tonight so that means you’ve earned my trust.”

“I won’t let you down.” He winks. I go to grab the Fireball that’s in his other hand but he holds it away from me, just out of reach. “Oh, no. You’re eating first.” We’re standing face to face now.

“Stop teasing me then.” I whisper.

“Can’t handle it?” He whispers back. That’s it. I lift my face, about to kiss him.

“What can I get you guys?” The truck owner comes out of nowhere. We both jump back from each other. Dammit.

“Uhm.” Good. He’s flustered too. “Four chicken tacos and two waters, please.”

“Both of those waters are for him. He’s been drinking all night. Needs to sober up.” I say to the truck owner. Ben looks at me accusingly.

“I have not been--”

“C’mon Ben you’ve been gripping that Fireball for hours. You’re not fooling anyone.”

The truck owner laughs, glancing down at the half empty handle in Ben’s hand. I can see how bad he wants to deny it but he doesn’t. Just stares at me in disbelief as I remain completely stagnant. Keep teasing, baby. Two can play.

“Four chicken tacos, coming up.” The man says, still smiling as he walks back to the kitchen.

“Cheap move. You’re not getting away with that.” Ben says once he’s gone.

“I certainly hope not.” I say, stepping a bit closer to him, looking up at him through my lashes. I link my finger through his belt loop and pull him closer to me. “Do something about it.”

“Christ.” He curses, looking away. “We’re in public.”

“Aw. Can’t handle it?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he scoffs and bites his lip. He lifts his hand and cups my face, stroking his thumb against my cheek. His eyes flit to my lips and I swear he’s about to kiss me but again, he doesn’t.

“I can handle it.” He whispers. I swallow, trying to control my breathing.

My heart is slamming against my chest and I have to clench my thighs together. His effect on me is unbelievable but I know he feels it too. We’re inches away but I can’t bring myself to react. I just stare into his bright green eyes, quickly down to his lips and then back up to his eyes. His thumb is still rubbing my cheek and I contemplate bringing it to my mouth.

“Here you are. Four chicken tacos and two waters.” I blink repeatedly and step away from Ben, shaking my head trying to clear my impure thoughts.

“Thanks, mate. Sarah, will you grab them?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry.” I stutter. Ben smirks, knowing my inability to focus is because of what just happened. He pays the truck owner, telling him to keep the change.

“C’mon, let’s go.” I expect him to hold his hand out for me to take, but his are full and so are mine. Damn. Now how am I supposed to walk straight?

“Let’s sit here.”

After continuing to walk around for a while, Ben has led us to a local park in the neighborhood we were in earlier. We’ve managed to revert back into normal conversation and bantering, not acknowledging the turn of events at the food truck. We haven’t eaten yet but I can feel myself sobering up a bit, as I have to keep forcing myself to focus on the words Ben is saying and not thinking about what he’d look like between my thighs.

“You know this area pretty well. You bring a lot of girls around?” I joke.

“Ha, yeah. Deserted parks in the middle of the night are my go-to date spot.”

“It does have a certain ambiance, I suppose. If you’re, you know… a serial killer.” He sits on the bench and laughs pretty loud. The sound gives me that same feeling in my chest from earlier and I wonder if I’ll ever get tired of hearing it.

“I honestly don’t have a response to that.” He’s still chuckling. “But I’m definitely not a serial killer.”

“Good to know.” I say as I sit down next to him.

We sit in silence for a bit, both of us just eating our tacos and drinking the water. It’s not an uncomfortable silence though. It’s serene, like we’ve known each other for years and are simply enjoying being near each other for the first time in a while. He looks out at the park ahead of us and I find myself staring at him again. My eyes wander from his sharp jawline to his full, pink lips to his messy blonde hair. He’s so goddamn beautiful and I’d bet anything he doesn’t even have to try.

“You’re staring again.” He finally speaks.

“Yeah I am.” I don’t even deny it. He’s gonna have to get used to it.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, still looking away from me. Hm, to be honest or no? I could tell him exactly what I’m thinking right here and now. But no, it’s too easy.

“I’m wondering why you haven’t given me back the Fireball yet.” He laughs, again. Nope, I’ll never get tired of hearing it. He reaches down to pick up the fireball and hands the bottle to me. I unscrew the cap and take a fairly sizable swig.

“Alright take it easy, Trixie.”

“Well, you drink some!” I say as I offer the bottle back to him.

“I’m okay, babe, really.” My breath hitches at the nickname. “I do have a confession to make though.”

“Oh?” Is this it? I don’t know how I feel about fucking in the middle of a public park but hey I guess there’s a first time for everything.

“I smoke cigarettes and I’m feeling the urge to light one right now but I don’t want to if it’ll make you sick or uncomfortable. Do you mind?”

“Usually, yes but I’ll make an exception for now.” I really thought he was going to ask to fuck in a public park? Jesus. What’s wrong with me?

“Because I’m hot?”

“AND douchey. Will you let that go?”

“Never.”

He removes a carton of cigarettes from inside his jacket pocket and takes out two, putting one between his teeth and the other behind his ear. It’s hot, but not as hot as his fingers expertly flicking the lighter and then him taking a long drag, blowing out the smoke as he exhales.

We sit in silence for a bit again. Him continuing to smoke his cigarette and me taking swigs from the handle. I’m torn between wanting to hear his voice again and wanting to sit in the comfortable silence. It’s impossible to look away as he continues to take drags from his cigarette. I know how bad it is but fuck if he doesn’t look irresistible doing it. If he notices, he doesn’t mind but the more I drink, the more antsy I get.

“How long have you been smoking?” I ask, deciding I want to hear his voice again.

“Too long.”

“Have you ever tried to quit?”

“Yeah, it’s not as easy as they say.”

“Well, here I’ll help you.” I take the cigarette out of his hand and take a drag from it. He watches in shock. I know he’s expecting me to cough but I don’t.

“You smoke?”

“Sometimes.” I admit, taking another drag.

“Holy shit.” He says under his breath. I then throw the cigarette on the ground and step on it, effectively putting it out. “Hey! That wasn’t quite done yet.”

“I know. I said I’d help you quit, remember?” He stares at me in disbelief.

“You’re…” He starts, not able to find the words.

“I’m… what?”

“Something.” He says finally.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Benjamin.”

“I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

“Never.” I repeat his statement from earlier.

Hours have passed and we’re still sitting on this damn park bench, talking about anything and everything. The craziest part is that I don’t think either of us ever made a solid effort to go home or get the other back to their place. No, the subjects have been limited to favorite movies, books, our families, an explanation of our tattoos, and even a brief discussion of male celebrity crushes. He’s put his hand on my knee a few times and I’ve found excuses to occasionally put mine on his chest and shoulders but still, we keep our hands to ourselves.

“What time is it?” I ask, finally coming to the realization that it’s starting to get light outside. He takes his phone out for the first time that night, which reminds me that I haven’t checked in with Ella or Michaela. Shit.

“Whoa. It’s 6:30. I have class in two hours.”

“Oh my god.” I don’t mean to say it outloud but I can’t help it. “We’ve been out all night?”

“Disappointed?”

“No,” I smile, “definitely worth it.”

“Let’s get you back then.” He stands and offers his hand.

He’s kind enough to order an Uber back to my place, having me dropped off before he goes to class. We’re riding in silence in the back of the car, his hand on my thigh the whole way back. I really might combust but it’s probably too soon to ask him to finger me in the back of an Uber.

“Ben?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for this. Seriously, between saving me from that jackass and feeding me when I’m drunk I had a really, really good time.”

“Me too.” He smiles, and squeezes my thigh. Seriously, is it too soon? I could move his hand a little further north and we’d be good to go.

“Here you are!” The driver announces. Ben gets out first, walking around to my side and opening the door for me. Such a gentleman. I can definitely work with that.

“One second.” Ben tells the driver, signaling him to wait and then walking me up to my door. “So...” he starts.

“So...” I respond.

“We should do this again.”

“This exactly?”

“Well, no.” He laughs. There’s a lull.

“I’d invite you up but--”

“I’d accept.”

“Skip class.” The words are out before I can stop them.

“Wow. You’re a bad influence.”

“Sorry.” I laugh. “I thought that had been established.”

“I wish I could but I can’t today. We’re doing monologues.”

“Another time then?” I know how needy I sound but I really can’t help it.

“Of course.” He brings his hand up and cups my face again. I decide that this time I’m not taking a chance, if he’s not going to do it then I will. I fist his t-shirt in my hand and bring him to me, crashing his lips onto mine. He’s still for a second, obviously surprised, but his lips slowly begin to work against mine until they’re moving in perfect synchronization. He moves his hands down to my waist as mine work their way into his hair, lightly fisting his blonde curls. And it’s perfect. All of it. His lips are so soft and his quiet moans are fueling my every movement, desperately trying to be as close to him as I possibly can. It’s so perfect that when he pulls away I actually, verbally whine.

“God, I wanna stay.” He whispers, still inches away from me.

“But you can’t.” He brings his hands back up to cup my face and kisses me quickly one more time.

“I want to.” He insists.

“I believe you.” I laugh. “Here, give me your phone.”

He takes his phone out of his back pocket and hands it to me. I put my number in under ‘Trixie’ and hand it back to him.

“Trixie.” He smiles at the name.

“Text me, okay?” I say as I start to walk into the doorway.

“Wait.” He stops me by grabbing my hand and kisses me again. He tries to make it quick but I put my hand on the back of his head, holding him in place and deepening the kiss. He moans against my mouth and it might be the one sound I love more than his laugh. His hands are around my waist again for one second until he pulls away. “Oh, I’m in trouble.” He sighs, his forehead resting against mine.

“Go to class.” I say lightly pushing his chest away from me.

“See you later, babe.” He winks as he walks away and gets into the Uber.

I close the door behind me and lean against it for a second, fisting my hair in my hands and shutting my eyes closed tight.

“FUCK.” I yell to no one in particular.

“Sarah?” I recognize Ella’s voice before I see her come out of her room. “Did you just get back?

“Yep.” I admit, my hands still in my hair as I exhale obnoxiously and smile.

“Damn, that good?” She asks.

“We didn’t fuck.”

“Oh... then... What’s up with you?”

I start from the beginning, telling her the whole story and leaving absolutely no details out. Of course, as soon as I’m finished, Michaela walks out of her room. She takes in the scene; me completely flustered and Ella literally on the edge of her seat.

“Um… What’s going on?”

“You are never skipping another party.” Ella responds.

“And he’s BRITISH? Like he’s actually British?”

“Yes, Mic for the 800th time he’s really, actually British. Or he’s an expert at faking accents.”

The three of us had moved to our dining room where I proceeded to tell Michaela the entire story. Ella gets just as excited as she did the first time, sometimes even stopping me at certain parts.

“THIS is the best part oh my god, yeah.”

“UGH I love this.”

“I still CANNOT believe he really did that, wow.”

So, yeah. It’s been an eventful morning of excited storytelling and obsessing over Ben’s teasing and British-ness. At some point, Michaela asked me for his last name which I realize I never got, but that doesn’t stop Ella from pulling out her laptop and trying to find him on social media anyway. Since she’s an expert who should probably work for the FBI, it doesn’t take her long.

“FOUND HIM.” She squints at her laptop screen. “Ben Hardy.”

“Hardy? That’s fitting, I guess.” I say as I pull my chair up next to hers. Mic brings hers to the other side, so we’re all collectively stalking his facebook page.

“Oh my GOD.” Mic exclaims. “THAT’S him?!”

Ella has his profile picture pulled up and yes, it’s a very good photo of him. I get that feeling in my chest again just looking at his picture. Damn him.

“Yes,” I laugh a bit. “That’s him.”

“Sarah, you are absolutely fucking with me.”

“I am NOT fucking with you! That’s really him!”

“He’s so HOT.” She emphasizes the last word. I put my head into my hands, hysterically laughing.

“I TOLD you.” Ella chimes in as she continues scrolling through his tagged photos. “Hey, that’s his cute friend I saw… and that’s his beer pong partner.” She points to a photo of four boys sitting very close in what looks like a dorm room, Ben on the bottom right.

“Did you end up talking to him?” I ask.

“No, I never got a chance to.”

“Oh, bummer. Ben said he thought you were cute.” I share. She stares at me accusingly.

“He what?! And you’re just now telling me this?”

“Well... I...”

“Who’s his beer pong partner?” Mic ignores us, pointing to the auburn haired boy in the photo. Ella clicks on the picture so the tags show all of their names.

“Oh, Joe. That’s his roommate who’s in the fraternity.” I repeat Ben’s words.

“He’s…” Mic starts but trails off. Ella and I look at her, wide eyed, waiting for her to finish.

“Cute? You can say it, M.”

“He’s… yeah. He’s cute, fine.” She admits, crossing her arms and huffing. Ella and I smirk knowingly at each other. “Oh, fuck off.” She curses at us.

“Gwilym.” Ella says out of nowhere.

“What?”

“That’s his cute friend’s name.”

“Who also thinks you’re cute.” I tease her.

“I’ll have to decide what I’m gonna do about that.” She flips her hair and smirks. Ella’s a master at her craft and I smile, excited to watch her work on this Gwilym. As for Joe, well I’m definitely hatching a plan to get him and Mic in a room together.

At that moment, my phone buzzes, breaking me out of my mental plan making. A text from a number I don’t have saved shows.

“I know she only works on Saturdays but is there any chance Trixie is available tonight?”

It’s Ben.

“Guys.” I get my friends’ attention and show them the text.

“TRIXIE, oh my GOD. I’m going to cry.” Michaela exclaims, causing me to burst into laughter once again. I’m so giggly at everything he says. How fuckin’ lame.

“Are you gonna see him again?” Ella asks.

“I think so.” I admit, trying to think of something to respond. I save his name in my phone as ‘Benjamin’ and type out:

“I suppose she can make an exception for this very special case. It just so happens I have mojito ingredients at my place.”

Since both of my friends are looking over my shoulder as I type, Ella chimes in.

“You’re gonna bring him here?”

“Should I not?”

“Well… you’re definitely getting laid tonight.” She accuses, sticking her tongue out. I look at Mic for confirmation and she shrugs.

“Not necessarily.” I try to deny it but I definitely knew what I was doing. “Is this bad? I’m a slut.” They both laugh.

“We been knew.” Ella says.

“I won’t make it too easy.” I defend.

“You better not be referring to my mojito ingredients.” Mic chimes in. I don’t respond because I definitely was but I’ll run out and get my own. Maybe. My phone buzzes again. He responds quick, I like it.

“Well, it’s hard to say no to that. I’ll come by around 7?”

I type out a quick confirmation and send him our address, just in case he didn’t save it from this morning.

“It’s a date. See you then, gorgeous. Xx”

I read his response and smile like a goddamn idiot. My friends ask what he said so I show them. Their faces light up the same way as mine.

“Use protection.” Ella warns.

“Or, you know… don’t.” Mic suggests.

“MIC!”

Ella slaps her shoulder at the same time I burst into laughter again. Her breeding kink is bound to get one of us in trouble eventually.

47 notes · View notes

mama-m1na · 5 years ago

Text

Welcome to the Game: Chapter 1

~~~I~~~

The ravenette sighed as she rolled out of bed to turn off her alarm.

It was hard for her to breath as her nose was stuffed, her body was hurting all over, and it hurt to move her mouth because her lips her so dry.

Throwing her blankets to the side, the seventeen-year-old stood up with difficulty as pain rang out in her knee.

Limping over to her closet, the female picked out an outfit for the day before going into her bathroom.

After washing her face, brushing her teeth, getting dressed, and taking care of the raven locks that fell to her butt, the teen walked downstairs to grab an already prepared breakfast made by her grandmother as she headed to the table by her kitchen window.

She spent fifteen minutes eating while watching Youtube videos as the local news played in the living room.

“Now, as of last night it appears that someone has broken out of a prison located in San Diego and police are saying they have no clue who it was. Their records have been completely wiped from the system; however, the guards there all remember his face,” the news anchor spoke causing the breath of the ravenette to hitch as her eyes widened and slowly panned up to the television, “Police are saying that the inmate was not that dangerous but to please keep an eye out for a male who is about six feet tall, with a lean build, with pale skin, shoulder length brown hair, looking to be about in his early twenties.”

Just as the story changed an older Filipino woman walked into the living room to take a seat while the ravenette placed her plate by the sink before rushing back up to the safety of her room.

‘There’s no way it could be him,’ she thought, scratching at her neck while looking outside her window before closing the blinds, ‘Even if it was him, there’s no way I’d ever see him again. I made sure of that.’

Ting!

The text tone cause the girl to jump as she shakily reached out for her phone, scared to find something linking back to the incident she’d so desperately tried to forget only to sigh in relief when she saw a text from her friend, Lyle.

“I woke up late,” it read, as her still shaky hands gripped onto her phone, “So I’m going to get there a bit late.”

“No problem, Hun,” she replied with a smile on her face, “See you when you get here and don’t do anything illegal.”

“Who do you take me for? Kerstin?” came the immediate reply causing the ravenette to snort as she curled into herself, almost forgetting the troubling news she had seen mere minutes ago.

About twenty minutes later another text alert told the ravenette that her friend had arrived at her house to take her to school.

“Sorry for having you do this everyday, Lyle,” the teen sighed as she slipped into the passenger seat of her friend’s car, keeping her stuff on the floor, “I’m getting the Kia when my mom goes to Washington, but until then my license is basically useless unless I’m driving my grandma somewhere with her car to keep my skills there.”

“I honestly don’t care,” the male snapped as he brushed his hair out of his face before glaring at the ravenette, “Where the fuck is your jacket? It’s freezing.”

“It’s only…” the teen pulled out her phone to check the weather before continuing, “66 degrees. I’ll be fine.”

The male only glared before opening his door and stepping outside.

“What are y-” “Stay the fuck there,” he barked, as he went to the trunk and came back with his letterman jacket, throwing it at the female’s face before getting back in the car.

“The fuck?”

“Put it on, you can’t afford to get sick this week if you have a competition,” he replied, finally beginning the drive to school.

“I think they’ll be fine, I won’t be missed- ow!” the ravenette’s head was thrown forward as the male smacked her.

“Rhamina,” he hissed, keeping his eyes on the road, “Do I have to take you to a therapist?”

“You know, I’m going to miss borrowing this,” the female chirped as she slipped on the jacket stereotypically bestowed upon jocks, “but at the same time I can’t wait till mine is done!”

“Why would you miss borrowing it?” Lyle replied, “To make me suffer in the cold without it?”

“You have extra jackets, eat my ass,” Rhamina huffed before buttoning the snaps on the slightly larger jacket, “No, it just feels like you’re always there giving me a hug… It’s comforting.”

“Wow, I really do have to take you to a therapist, don’t I?” the male asked earning a smack on the shoulder.

“Lyle!” the female whined with a pout, “You always do this when I try to be genuine. You know emotions are weird for me.”

“I can always kill him you know.”

“You say that but I actually know people that will,” the ravenette muttered under her breath as she turtled into the wool and leather jacket.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” the female sang with a giggle before scrolling through tumblr on her phone.

The rest of the drive was filled with small banter between the two before they eventually pulled into the male’s parking spot.

“I don’t know why the janitors don’t ever open these gates,” huffed the male as the pair stood locked out of the gates of the performing arts hallway.

Rhamina placed her hands on the gate’s handle just as a gust of wind blew by while the golden flecks in her brown irises made themselves prominent, just for a split second, and when she pulled back the gate opened, no longer locked.

“What the fuck? How the hell do you always do this?” Lyle asked, standing still in shock, “I know it was actually locked this time.”

“And like every time I’ve told you before it was magic, Lyle,” the ravenette said with a small smile, “When are you going to believe me?”

“I am a legitimate witch afterall,” she continued after placing a trash can to make sure the gate stayed open.

The two then walked in before taking a seat at the random lunch table left in front of the bandroom, talking or in Lyle’s case, finishing homework.

“Dude, I for sure failed my AP Gov exam!” whined Rhamina as she leaned on the male’s shoulder, “There goes my 4.28.”

“Shut up, I’m sure you did fine,” the brunet said before lifting up one of his papers, “now help me with this.”

The brown irises of the female scanned the piece of math homework, similar to the paper she had finished in class the previous day.

“Ah, you did the same thing I did,” she said noticing the mistake in his work, “When you factor out the rad. 5, this part becomes a 1, so that leaves 6+1 in the parentheses and 10 on the outside. When you multiply that, it becomes 70.”

“Thanks,” the male nodded, understanding his mistake and fixing his work.

“You know, it makes me really happy to see you caring about your future and grades,” Rhamina spoke with a smile, “It really is a turn around from freshman year. I’m proud.”

“Same goes for you. You actually give a shit about your life now and you act proud of yourself.”

“Lyle, you’re going to make me cry,” the ravenette squeaked with a hand over her heart, “That is one of the nicest things you’ve ever said to me!”

“I remember when I first started trying to talk to you, you would threaten to deck me in the face,” she continued, reminiscing about their first year of high school.

“And you would annoyingly keep coming back no matter what threat I threw at you,” he huffed with a smirk.

“Yeah… I am annoying aren’t I?” she chuckled as a silhouette came into view, “When and why did you start tolerating me exactly?”

“I don’t know, why did you start talking to me?” he asked, stopping his work to look down at the girl with curiosity.

“Because you had just moved here and everyone already made assumptions about you,” she explained with a frown, “They said you had frequently gotten into fights and that you weren’t safe to be around.”

“So you started talking to me for the thrill?” the brunet asked with a raised brow.

“I started talking to you because those rumors pissed me off,” the ravenette huffed, “These trash people were judging you based on rumors without getting to know you… they were judging you for just… Existing.”

The male just sat in awe at his friend’s explanation, never knowing why the extremely quirky and anxious female had started coming up to him, the delinquent from another state, in the first place.

“Plus, I know you don’t believe in this stuff but, I heard you.”

“What?”

“That first time I walked passed you and stopped for a few moments, the first time you told me to ‘screw off’ or you’d ‘make me regret it’. I heard your soul saying that you didn’t want the image you had, you didn’t want the cards you were dealt, and to be honest I was just starting my downward spiral so I didn’t fully understand, I still don’t because I’m not you, but I couldn’t help but empathize,” Rhamina spoke, fumbling in a few places as she tried to find the right words, “I didn’t want anyone to suffer in anyway similar to what I was going through, not feeling worth it, not feeling as if they had anyone to just… listen, at least. I didn’t, and I still don’t, wish true loneliness upon anyone.”

“I’m sorry, you probably think that’s weird right?” Rhamina chuckled, after realizing she was going off on a tangent again, “I just wanted to be your friend is all. I just collect weirdos, I guess.”

“You really do, it’s called being in band,” a male spoke before sitting on the opposite side of the table.

“Good morning, Son,” Rhamina spoke before stretching out her back, releasing a few squeaks in the process.

“Good morning, Mother,” the boy spoke as a blonde sophomore arrived as well, “So did you see the news this morning?”

“About what?” the ravenette asked, silently praying that it wasn’t about what she thought it was.

“The prisoner escaping from prison in San Diego,” the sophomore explained, “apparently they were one of the higher security prisoners but police can’t find any of their records.”

“Oh, yeah,” the female chuckled nervously as she leaned forward on her left elbow, her nails just brushing the side of her neck, “You better not be walking home by yourself, Lee.”

“Wait, the fuck?” Lyle asked as he looked up once again from his paper, “Someone broke out of a San Diego prison? They could be anywhere by now.”

“That’s why it’s so concerning,” Lee replied, “It doesn’t help that San Diego in itself can be really shady.”

“Yeah, have you seen Convoy Street after sundown?” Rhamina chuckled as she began to scratch at her neck once again, “But we should be fine, nothing ever happens in Temecula.”

“Rhamina, for someone with a 4.28 GPA you sure are stupid,” Lyle huffed as he turned to the seventeen-year-old, “Temecula is a quiet, boring, little town only known for making wine. It would be the perfect place to hide, especially since we’re so close to San Diego… You’re taking the bus home today right?”

“Yeah, what does that have to do with anything though?” Rhamina asked as she checked her nails, noting that she’d have to cut them within the next few days.

“How far is your house from the bus stop?”

“Lyle, it’s only two streets away, I’ll be fine,” the ravenette groaned, “Plus you have practice today.”

“You say that, but watch you get kidnapped or some shit,” the male scoffed causing Lee’s eyes to widen as he met glances with the blonde next to him.

“Hey, Lyle, can we talk to you real quick?” the blonde female asked.

“In private?” Lee added, causing the ravenette to stand.

“I was just about to use the bathroom so go for it,” Rhamina shrugged as she made her way down the hall.

Once she was out of sight, Lyle turned to the two sophomores and asked, “What did you want, Jamie?”

“You can’t bring up kidnapping around Mina, like at all,” Jamie said with her arms in an ‘X’ in front of her body.

“Why? She jokes about it all the time?” Lyle asked with a raised brow.

“Has she actually used the word ‘kidnap’ or has she said ‘surprise adoption’?” Lee asked, “There is a huge difference and as to why we can’t say it… I’m not surprised that you don’t know, you just came here four years ago after all.”

“Oh yeah, he doesn’t know!” Jamie realized which took away some of her surprise at the fact that one of the ravenette’s closest friends would say something like that.

“I don’t know what? Can you guys just stop being dodgy?” the brunet scoffed with annoyance written all over his face, though he couldn’t stop his rate rate from accelerating slightly.

“You see when Mina was in sixth grade she went missing,” Jamie explained in a hushed voice, leaning in so the male could hear her easier.

“Yeah, the last place she was known to be at the park near her house, she was supposed to be hanging out with some friends,” Lee added, “A week later the police found her in some guy’s basement in Corona. When police found her, she wasn’t like physically abused or anything but she was really anxious and on edge.”

“They caught the guy that did it as he was coming into the house so, yeah,” Jamie finished.

Lyle was speechless for a few moments but thought back to their previous conversation.

“Do you know which prison the guy is in?” he asked as others started arriving.

“She didn’t tell us that.”

“Guys, why are you talking about this?” a shorter female with dark braids asked as she sat down, looking around for the ravenette, “You know we can’t.”

“We needed to explain to Lyle!” Jamie defended, “He didn’t know and could have accidentally said something to trigger her!”

“No offense, Lyle,” the blond said, quickly realizing what she said could have been taken the wrong way.

“I can understand why she hasn’t told you though,” the Mexican spoke as she took a seat, “I don’t even want to imagine how traumatic that was.”

“What are we talking about?” Rhamina asked as she popped up from around a corner near the table.

“Mina, where the fuck did you come from?!” the darkette exclaimed in surprise.

“The restrooms I normally use are still locked so I used the ones near the gym,” the ravenette explained as she took her seat, “But what were we talking about.”

“Uh, how Eli was being gay in third period yesterday,” Jamie spoke earning a frown from the senior female.

“How about we don’t?” she said as the younger students laughed.

After about five more minutes of conversation, Rhamina turned to Lyle and asked, “Hey, you good?”

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine,” he spoke being jolted out of his thoughts, “What do you want?”

“Robert just did something retarded again and you didn’t yell at him, what’s up?” the ravenette asked while looking up at her friend.

“I said that I’m fine,” the boy huffed earning a small glare from Rhamina as a cold gust of wind blew past.

“Do you want your jacket back?” she asked while wrapping her arms around the brunet’s arm.

“No, you can keep it for now,” Lyle sighed as he patted the female on the head with his free hand.

When the bell rang the pair walked together until Rhamina came to her classroom and they parted with a quick hug.

“So, Rhamina, how’re you and the boyfriend?” asked the teacher sitting at his table in front of the ravenette’s desk.

“Huh? I don’t have a boyfriend,” the female replied as she set down her things.

“Then who’s that boy that drops you off in the morning? The one who’s jacket that you’re wearing?” the Ap Government teacher questioned.

“Lyle?” Rhamina asked glancing down at the oversized jacket, “We’re not dating, just really close friends is all. No one really sees me that way.”

The teacher only gave a single raised brow and a look that read, ‘I don’t believe you,’ before greeting other students as they walked in the classroom.

When the ravenette’s sibling walked into the room just as the bell rang the male teacher looked up and asked, “Kerstin, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Shit, am I in trouble?” the darkette asked as Rhamina and their seat mate deadpanned at their friend’s reply to a teacher.

“No, I just need to ask you something real quick,” Mr. Slow said as he opened the door to the pod, a small room connecting four of the classrooms in a wing.

Once the door closed, the teacher sighed before saying, “I know it’s inappropriate of me to ask this as a teacher, but as a bystander this is getting pretty confusing.”

At this point Kerstin was feeling pretty uncomfortable and getting extremely worried.

‘What did he find out?’ she thought, ‘Was it the vape? Or the weed? Please don’t let it be the weed.’

“Is Rhamina really not dating that boy?” the male asked after taking a deep breath, “Because the staff has been seeing them hang out together since their freshman years but there’s a debate over whether they are a thing or not.”

“Ah, well, they’re not,” Kerstin sighed in relief, “I can see where you get confused though.”

“Are you kidding me?” Mr. Slow replied, “I can’t believe they actually aren’t dating they act like a couple.”

“I know!” the teen exclaimed, “They do couple shit all the time and it’s obvious that they like each other but neither of them say shit. Mina is just too oblivious to see it and Lyle is a tsundere piece of shit.”

“Well, thank you for the clarification, Kerstin,” the teacher sighed, “I’m going to be frustrated about this for a while.”

“I’ve had to deal with them acting like this four four years, Mr. Slow,” Kerstin replied, “You don’t know my pain.”

When the darkette returned to her seat, Rhamina turned around and asked, “What did Mr. Slow want?”

“Nothing, we were just talking about how I need to stop being late,” the Filipino girl shrugged before her eyebrow twitched at seeing the brunet’s jacket on her sister.

When lunch came around, Rhamina emerged from the band room with her lunch to see Lyle waiting at the lunch table.

With a smile she tossed the male’s jacket back to him before sitting next to him.

“Did you cut class to get here this early?” she asked while opening her lunch box.

“Just the last five minutes,” he replied, “and you took forever to get out.”

“Well, I was being productive,” Rhamina huffed rolling her shoulders, “Conducting is hard when you don’t stretch.”

“Mina, scoot,” a shorter Filipino female said as she arrived bearing a hot pocket.

“Chloe, there’s literally a free seat right across from me,” the ravenette replied.

“But G-Lo’s stuff is here.”

“Move your feet you lose your seat.”

“...Okay.”

The day passed painfully slow for the ravenette and when it finally ended she slipped in her right airpod to listen to her usual playlist as she sat in the second row of her bus.

As soon as the vehicle started a text notification appeared on the screen of her phone.

Seeing it was from Lyle, Rhamina tapped on it and read, “Be careful going home today.”

She only scoffed with a small smile and shot a text back, telling the male to focus on practice before the coach made him do extra PT.

She received a middle finger emoji in response which made her chuckle before returning to scrolling on her tumblr.

The bus ride almost lulled the ravenette to sleep; however, she willed herself to stay up due to her massive distrust of all the other students on the same bus route as her.

A few weeks prior, the rowdy, mostly freshmen boys, had caused so much trouble on the bus and almost caused her to get home half an hour late.

In a text chat with her sisters, Rhamina stated that she wished for the bus to catch fire… And she hoped it would be with all of said freshmen in it.

She didn’t hate all of the freshmen class, there were a few that she liked as well as a few she hasn’t met yet, but she knew that for sure the ones on her bus were insufferable.

Unfortunately for the ravenette, she got off at the last stop of the route and the freshmen would not get off until the two stops before hers so she would have to put up with them for almost her entire ride.

When it was finally time to get off the female was the only one left.

‘Looks like Gavin wasn’t here today,’ she thought as she hopped off the bus, giving a wave to the bus driver before she walked down the street.

When she was in front of her house the teen opened her mail box to retrieve the multiple envelopes and parcels inside.

Still humming along with the music that played in her ears the ravenette opened her front door to be greeted with complete and utter silence as her grandparents were at a doctor’s appointment and her mother had taken the dogs to the vet for a check up.

The silence didn’t bother the teen though, in fact she was quite content to get the house to herself after so long of being bombarded by social interaction.

With a smile she left the envelopes and lunch bag on top of the kitchen counter before removing her boots and taking the parcels with her name on them as well as the rest of her things upstairs with a small smile on her face; however, her relief was short lived.

As soon as she opened her bedroom door she saw a young man with pale skin and medium length brown hair laying on her bed.

He wore a pair of blue jeans with a green t-shirt, and a black jacket over it.

Rhamina’s breath was caught in her throat and she as she was met with familiar blood red irises.

“Hello, Little Fox, it seems like you’ve been doing well,” the male spoke with a smooth voice and a smirk on his face as he slipped his phone back into his pocket.

The ravenette could feel her heart beat faster as the male stood up and began walking towards her.

‘Move!’ she thought still standing wide eyed, ‘Fucking do something! Why can’t I-?!’

She was finally brought back to reality when she slapped the male’s reaching hand away before hunching forward slightly to let out a long hiss.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed, keeping her eyes on the male for any movement he made, “How the hell did you get out and why don’t they know that it was you who did?”

The smirk fell from the face of the man before he replied, “How did you avoid getting arrested with me back then? How were you able to give me every piece of information on my targets without leaving your own location?”

Rhamina winced at the realization and her head was telling her to run but she was too stubborn for that.

“So you figured out my tricks… well fuck,” she sighed, backing up slowly still keeping her eyes trained on the older male, “Why are you here? You going to kill me?”

“No,” the male chuckled, “Why would you think that? In fact I came back so we could work together again.”

“No, I fucking refuse,” Rhamina spat, “I stopped playing the game a long time ago.”

The ravenette jumped as the door slammed loudly behind her and before she could even say anything she was pinned between the murderer in front of her and the door that had kept her safe from the horrors of the outside world.

“You don’t just stop playing the game, Kitsami,” the male whispered in her ear as he held her wrist in place, “You don’t stop playing until you die.”

“You know that,” he continued as he backed away slightly to look the teen in the eyes, “You’ve helped me get rid of so many other players after all.”

“I don’t get why you need me now though,” Rhamina spoke trying to avoid any eye contact, “You already know how I did my job and could do it by yourself.”

“Oh, the first part is true but the second part isn’t,” the male spoke with a smile, “Because even if you haven’t been active on the deep web, the truth is you never even stopped playing the game, have you?”

“No, in fact you’ve been honing your skills haven’t you? So even if I just say a name, I’m sure you’d be able to give me anything I needed.”

“You’re really overestimating my abilities, you know that?”

Rhamina let out a yelp as she was forced to face the male who was only inches from her face.

“I know your not stupid Kitsami, plus I heard you were having some money issues right?” he whispered while looking down into the female’s brown irises, speckled with gold flecks, “Well, this time around I’m willing to be giving you a 50/50 cut of the payment since you would be more involved.”

Rhamina was silent with that statement. It was true. Her family had almost no money left and with how the district was treating the band program she feared it wouldn’t last.

“I know you’re careful and that you’re going to have just as much fun as I do,” he continued with a smirk, “So what’s it going to be, Kitsami?”

“Fine. I’ll do it with the 50/50 cut.”

“Wow, so it was the money that swayed you, huh?”

“It shouldn’t surprise you, Koda, I am a fox after all,” shrugged the female as the older male backed away, “We are greedy little things.”

“Here,” the male said as he tossed a box at the ravenette who almost dropped it, “a few gifts for you.”

She opened the box as the male laid back down on the bed to see a cheap thirty dollar, touch screen phone and a black cord choker with a purple gem in the middle.

“I suspected you wouldn’t want to keep any of our work conversations on your computer so I got you an untraceable phone,” Koda explained as he stretched.

“So I see someone was confident that I would agree to working with you,” Rhamina commented with a scoff, “What would you do if I said no?”

“I would kill everyone in that little marching band of yours.”

In a split second the ravenette sat on the male’s stomach with both of her hands wrapped around his throat, not gripping hard enough to really do anything but enough to make herself known.

Her face showed no emotion but Koda could see the rage burning as the gold flecks in her eyes seemed to glow and the temperature in the room dropped.

She began to squeeze down on the male’s throat as she growled, “Even think about saying that again and I will break every single bone in your body.”

The male chuckled as black dots began to appear in his peripheral vision.

“You really did grow up to be so beautiful, you know?” he wheezed causing the ravenette to loosen her grip in shock at the comment, “I see why you chose to be called fox.”

“What are you getting at-?!” she was cut off as the male bucked his hips up to throw her off balance and rolled them over so he was the one pinning her down.

“You look so cute with your ears and tails flicking around like that,” he commented with half lidded eyes as the ravenette was pinned once again, “But you’re still really inexperienced… I can fix that.”

“What the actual- Koda!” Rhamina squealed as the male suddenly dropped his full weight on her, burying his face into her neck, causing her heart to beat faster as she became more uncomfortable.

“I missed you so much, you know?” he whispered, tone changing dramatically, “Prison wasn’t fun and I couldn’t talk to anyone there like I could with you. It was so boring but now I have you again.”

The ravenette knew it was a bad idea.

She knew it was only trouble to get herself involved again but in that moment she saw someone that she could trust.

In that moment Rhamina saw someone she needed to protect in the shell of the bloody murderer laying on top of her, holding her as if he was afraid that she would crumble away.

In that moment she couldn’t help but wonder, ‘What happened to you?’

~~~Fin. Chapter 1~~~

#Welcome to the Game #Chapter 1 #Rhamina Miyu #Kitsami #original story

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vanaera · 6 years ago

Text

Translucent Fireworks

Synopsis | Jungkook yearns for a New Year to come after the warmth he sought in Busan turned lukewarm. Sparks start to alight when spring comes and a girl with a coloring book and weird laundry schedule stepped in his laundromat.

Genre | Fluff, Drama, Slight Angst

Wordcount | 23k+

A/N | Surprise, surprise! @cinserity, you thought me taking up your freaking laundry!au is a joke? AHAHAHHA No. Sorry this is not a crack fic. I prefer to stay in my drama/angst expertise. Enjoy reading!

“Comfort settles on what is familiar; familiarity is made by routines and traditions. As much as anyone would like to have their days vary from each other, a constant is needed to hold one’s life in place.”

These were Jeon Jungkook’s mother’s constant reminders to him whenever he would like to do something stupid in his high school days just to make life “exciting.” In the thawing winter of the last week of February Jungkook reminds himself of this when he fumbles for his keys, his eyes in a never ending fight against the sleep hanging on his eyelids.

His movements are slow as he crouches down, a gloved hand inserts the key to the padlock, twists it, and then he places the key and padlock in the pocket of his green bomber jacket. He grasps the metal gate of the store front before he pushes it up, higher and higher until the gate is no longer obstructing the face of his laundromat.

He steps away to look at his laundromat’s signboard: “Jeon’s Laundromat” printed in the usual blue and green color scheme with a simple washing machine cartoon art that was a trend in the 1970s and still a trend in the 2000s for the vintage look. It’s simple and basic, a perfect match for a simple laundry business in the simple Myeongjang-dong, Dongnae District of Busan. The white paint has faded and grayed with age but the shop still resonates the same warm and homey aura back when he used to play toy cars inside as he keeps his grandmother company. Jungkook tries to curve his lips to form a smile on his tired face. He wishes the same warmth could soothe his exhaustion.

“Wow, you opened early. It’s like five thirty in the morning.”

Jungkook turns to see his high school friend, then-partner in crime, now a florist with his own flower shop across his laundromat giving him a cheeky smile. “Shut up, Jimin,” a hoarse chuckle resonates from his throat as Jungkook leans on the wall of his shop and decides he needs a distraction. He tries to appreciate the ridiculous color combination of his friend’s orange parka, green sweatpants, and a Mickey Mouse beanie sitting atop a taupe brown mop of hair. “You look ridiculous,” Jungkook snickers.

“Hey, excuse my outfit,” Jimin chortles as he looks down at his pink-socked feet in his slippers, stifling a guffaw. “I ran out of food, so I rushed out, just put on anything on my sleepwear to look decent.”

“You look anything but decent.”

“Oh shut up! I’m gonna be in my usual glory when I open my shop later,” Jimin’s eyes crinkles. “I’ll be as beautiful as my flowers later, just you see,” he says as he steps away waving at Jungkook to bid him goodbye and a “See you later, coconut head.”

“Yeah, see you later,” Jungkook waves as he enters his shop, flipping the “Sorry We’re Closed” sign to “Come In, We’re Open!” He stays by the glass door to look at the morning dew of early morning under the mellow yellow patch of the skyline about to overwhelm the parting navy colors of night. Jungkook could make out the pots of white carnations behind the doors of Jimin’s pastel blue flower shop. His eyes then travel to the apartment unit above the flower shop to watch Mrs. Taehee Jung gather the dried clothes she hung up the night before. Old Sangmin’s bakery is still thriving on the far right and Jungkook remembers his elementary days when his mother used to buy him muffins on the way home from school. He makes a note to buy some toasts later to munch on. Home-based convenience stores are opening one by one, and he could already see someone mopping the floors of the red-bricked establishment of Kim’s Italian Restaurant on his far left. His view is disrupted when Mr. Changmin Song, a resident below his apartment unit, waves at him as he walked on the street. Jungkook is compelled by moral norms to return the wave with a smile. Oh and there’s Mrs. Eunhui Lee, a patron of the laundromat, biking past him and Jungkook waves again.

His mornings are always filled with warmth, a stark difference to his life five years ago in the concrete jungle of black and white buildings. He doesn’t miss the pressure of schedules that drove people here and there, the constant feeling of glass screens pressed against stressed flesh while shouting some things that are needed to be done – a life where everyone needs to go somewhere and do something in such a never-ending hurry. Jungkook’s glad he traded a life where people are controlled by time and cold apathy for a life of laidback days, serene nights, and warm sympathy of people. However, he’s been used to the warm life here for too many years that sometimes Jungkook thinks the warmth of being home had already turned lukewarm with unwanted consistency. His laidback days dragged too long, the silence of his serene nights started to deafen him. He feels he missed something – something he skipped over and never bothered to check when he packed his belongings and set his eyes for the rural world. He feels so unsatisfied when he already thinks he’s content with his life.

The sight of the increasing people on the street signals Jungkook it’s time to focus on his own shop now so he rips his stare away from the door and lets it graze the interior of the laundromat. Fifteen cheap but functional silver and white washing machines lined against the cerulean blue walls, the center being occupied by two long wooden benches placed against each other for the customers to sit on. A vending machine and change machine are placed against his right where a corner of the walls leads to a comfort room. A desk to his left serves as his station where he can keep an eye on his shop. Still the same old Jeon’s Laundromat his grandparents started in the 1970s.

“Another day, here we go again,” he sighs, walking towards the washing machines to start another business day.

Nothing much happens in his day for him to describe in detail. He eats three regular meals, sometimes in solitude, sometimes in the company of his florist friend. He sits in his station with people he was all-too familiar now coming in and out. At times, he stands up to walk around the shop and see if he could be of any help for his customers. Sometimes he engages in conversations with the older ladies who were friends with his late mother or father just to know about their day even though he knows he’ll get the same response: “Just okay, there’s nothing much I do in my days anyway”, “My son is still irresponsible”, “Hey, you know you can come over and have dinner with us someday.” His lassitude in the morning was sustained in the evening, and by the time he hits the covers of his bed, another day has slipped through his flimsy fingers.

The days that followed were also like this. He opens the laundromat around five thirty to eight from Monday to Sunday. He collects the coins and cleans the shop before he closes around nine to ten. He would refill the vending machine and change machine every Tuesday and Thursday. On Friday nights, he does accounting works that keeps his business alive. At the end of the week, the cycle will repeat. He wakes up tired and he sleeps the exhaustion away only to wake up again to find that getting up from the bed is always going to be the challenge of the century. He’s always greeted by faces he have seen since he was three and sometimes he thinks he’s a sick bastard for wishing for them to not show up in his day when all they meant was good company. He lives a comfortable life with the same routine, same activities, same setting, and same faces and he can’t deny he is uncomfortable with this. He thinks his days are too identical, only differentiated by the numbers of the months, days, and years. A never-ending cycle only bordered by the thin lines of time, dictating the consciousness of man of what is yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

In his defense, Jungkook knows he tried. He tried to start and end his day a little early or a little late. He also tried playing with the days of the week like how he decided two weeks ago to have Mondays as his day offs. He didn’t realize he grew accustomed to the seven-days-a-week work in the constricting gray walls of Seoul that he unconsciously brought this work attitude in his hometown. He also tried to engage in new activities his younger self have been dying to do years ago. He tried so many ways, more than he can count with his hands, just to make his day a little bit different from the others, even just a flicker of variety in his uneventful life. He’s desperate, he knows, because no matter how many times he tried, they always end up in the same conclusion – it’s pointless.

It’s hopeless. It’s not like his job requires activities that could make his day eventful. It’s not like something will happen if he woke up a little earlier or slept a little later. It’s not like he still enjoyed the activities his younger self liked to indulge. These thoughts boggled his mind throughout Mondays, only making him weary in his own day off so yesterday he decided he doesn’t need day offs and just open the laundromat everyday. He knows he always needed a distraction and his business could be enough as one. “Maybe I’m being too ungrateful,” he thinks. He has a job that could support his lifestyle; he has a home he can come back to – an apartment unit which stood through time since he was an infant who grew to dream of the city and then came home last year to detach himself from the nightmares of the urban life. It makes him nauseous sometimes when he admits he indeed has a life others would dream of. However the comfort of one’s life doesn’t ensure the comfort of one’s physical and mental well-being. He’s always troubled with this feeling of being so dissatisfied for no reason. This emptiness metastasizing in his chest fills up the hollows of his lungs. They block the valleys of his throat, drowning him with the ripples of nothingness. It disables him in some days with such unreasonable lethargy to get up and live another day. He never expected this void could swallow him whole. Many times he decided to just give up, it won’t go away no matter what he does. All adults feel like this anyway. It’s only normal.

But when he lay on his bed, his eyes mapping the lines made by the cracked paint on his ceiling does he remember why he shouldn’t stop trying.

This venom of dissatisfaction – it deemed him incapable to be himself when he lived in the gray city years ago. It haunted him on day’s end driving him sometimes to be so drunk of dread and regrets. That’s why a winter a year ago, he decided it’s time to come home. He’ll fix himself.

He can’t give up now that he’s so near to getting rid of this.

“Here’s your change Mrs. Song,” Jungkook stands by the door as he hands the silver coins to the woman in her late fifties. Mrs. Eunji Song, a friend of his mother and their past neighbour years ago, still has the same curly brown hair and fascination for pink clothes

“Ah, thanks Jungkook,” the lady smiles and gets her change before latching her hand on the door, getting ready to make her way home now. “By the way, do come to our house any day to have some dinner. You know you’re always welcome in our home,” the lady smiles again making Jungkook give her his own smile. She has always been so accommodating to their family even back then when he used to tease and make her daughter cry for fun. He wishes he could feel thankful for the offer like his younger self would be; not this disgusting guilt pressured by instilled culture.

“Will do, Mrs. Song. Have a safe trip home,” He bids her goodbye as he opens the door for her. He gives her one last smile to compensate for the bitterness of his thoughts before she rounds up the corner of Sangmin’s bakery.

Jungkook goes back to his station as he lets his vision linger on the other customers of his shop. He could see Mrs. Jinhee Park, a friend of Mrs. Lee, gathering her dried clothes. Mrs. Eunhui Lee, a mother of two and his apartment neighbor, feeds the coins to the coin slot of the washer before she presses a button to start her laundry. He could make out the familiar back of Park Jihyun, Jimin’s younger brother, sitting on the bench reading some manga he remembered Jimin raving about a week ago. It is three thirty in the afternoon and he’s expecting more familiar faces to turn up when the six o’clock mark comes for people who preferred to do their laundry at night.

Jungkook knows everyone just as how every resident in Myeongjang-dong knows everyone. After all it’s a small town. Newly moved residents in their area were welcomed warmly in the neighborhood with some rice cakes, and then they are introduced to everyone around the town. The tradition is preserved through the years as well as each family’s background, making it easy for everyone to pick apart every event in one’s life like a dissected frog experiment. Labels are permanently marked and gossips spread like wildfire. Jungkook knows Mrs. Song came from a poor family but founded a business which earned her family enough wealth to last their next generation. Mrs. Park’s husband died early and then she married her neighbor who was her first love during her youthful days. Eunhui had her first son at the age of sixteen with a jerk who left her. After two years she had her happy married life with her bestfriend.

Jungkook is pretty sure everyone knows his mother died when he was in college because of tuberculosis and that his father just died a year ago which was actually the reason why he went back to his hometown with his older brother. It was only him who stayed and preferred to run the family business. Unlike him, Junghyun loved the city and has a nice position as a supervisor in a company.

A peaceful and secure life is what Jungkook have always wanted. He doesn’t have dreams as ambitious as his brother’s nor does he feel unsatisfied with the laundromat business. As he looks around the establishment founded by his grandparents, Jungkook is thankful they, along with his parents, provided him a secure future. The prosperity of the business hasn’t changed nor the patrons of Jeon’s Laundromat even after his parents died. It has always been the same; everything hasn’t changed one bit. Neither do I, Jungkook thinks. Comfort is felt on what is familiar but sometimes he wishes it was the other way around – familiarity to be felt on what is comfortable. He always felt too comfortable with his life now that he feels unfamiliar with himself.

His mother had always reminded him that constants are needed to make life solid enough to be manageable, tangible, and most importantly, liveable. Jungkook thinks he already has too many constants in his life that his world seemed to stop moving and no matter what he did he’s still stuck in the same position. A stagnant echo in the gray static of a television left behind by the transmission signals.

Jungkook returns to work when Jihyun came to his station to say goodbye with a message from his brother that his attendance is very much wanted by the florist later at nine o’clock in Uncle Bob’s Bar. Jungkook sends him off with a message for Jimin to stop being so demanding like a clingy girlfriend.

The afternoon hours blend into the evening, and just like he expected, more customers went to the shop to do their laundry at six ‘o clock. At eight forty-five, Jungkook is pulling the metal gate downward, locking it with the huge brass padlock, and tucking the key in his pocket as he steps away to end another day of business.

“You’re only closing now?” An all-too-familiar voice he sometimes finds irksome drives Jungkook to give Jimin a once-over.

“Wow, you sound like my wife,” Jungkook walks towards his friend, who self-proclaims “beautiful as his flowers”, sporting a sky blue and white striped button down and navy jeans.

“Eww, you shouldn’t dream to have me as one when I’m already taken. Dude, I already have Minyoung!” Jimin cackles, starting to make a sprint as Jungkook charges after him to knock off the stupid grin from his face. It was ages ago when Jungkook ran like this; he really needed one that night to take his mind off of these stupid thoughts.

Uncle Bob’s Bar is actually owned by Kim Sangjin, Old Sangmin’s younger brother, and is located a few blocks away from the bakery. The two take their usual seat at the far right corner of the bar. Jimin raises two fingers to Mrs. Kim who has already memorized the friends’ orders that hasn’t changed since their college days.

Jungkook lets his eyes travel around the rustic mahogany interior of the bar complimented by the orange glow of candles placed in lamps overhead that attempted to mimic some form of chandelier. The chestnut cabinet holding liquors older than him was nested near the wooden staircase leading to the second floor where college students seems to be having some game of beer pong which reminded him of his own reckless days, back when life rolled on and on before it advanced too fast when he packed his things for the modern streets of the city. Now here he is, back where he started, hoping his untuned life will be fixed by his stay in his hometown.

“We used to do that back then,” Jungkook’s attention turns to Jimin, realizing he’s staring too long. He’s zoning out more frequently as the days pass by.

“Ah, yeah, then we’ll have bets with Taehyung and Hoseok who can take more shots then end up losing count because we always end up wasted. Can’t believe they’ll only come visit us just to drink here.”

“Seokjin called earlier,” Jimin starts, “said he and the guys gonna prepare some get together in Seoul. Last boyhood days, I say. He’s serious with Hana ever since college and he’s preparing to put a ring on it in July.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen with the news. He thinks it is risky prolonging romances with an indefinite ending that’s why he’s glad Seokjin and Hana were able to see a wedded life together as their future. “Really? Wow, I’m glad for them. It’s been like six years and they managed to keep the romance alive.”

“’Cause Seokjin looks damn good. Same reason why Minyoung will never get tired seeing this handsome face every day.”

“I will punch you for real this time.”

Jimin laughs as he leans on his chair, making himself at home. Well this bar was like their home but that was years ago. “Anyway, Seokjin and his happily ever after is not the reason why I wanted for us to have a drink here. It’s about you.”

“What about me?” Jungkook gives him a pointed look.

“It’s just that,” Jimin runs his hand through the strands of his hair as he finds the right words to say. “You just sound so…listless? Like you’re tired everyday for no reason.”

“I…-“ Jungkook stops, the aggressive “I’m not” he wanted to say dying in the confines of his throat.

“See? You can’t even deny it,” Jimin leans forward, his hands almost reaching out for him. “What’s wrong? Is it because of your life here? I told you you don’t have to force yourself to continue the business if you really felt that inferior to your brother-“

“No. It’s not about him,” Jungkook cuts him off with unnecessary hostility. Sure, sometimes he felt inferior to Junghyun because his position is something to be envious of compared to his laundromat business. Jungkook always felt the need to tell himself every now and then that the city is for Junghyun and this province is for him. Being jealous of something he would never enjoy in the first place is pointless.

Jungkook thinks his friend would not be able to fathom the complexity of his dilemma so he comes up with something he could reach. Jimin’s concern makes him feel sorry for his recalcitrance.

“What’s your favorite holiday, hyung?”

If Jimin was taken aback with the sudden diversion of subject, he did a good job masking it with a smile. “Thanksgiving.”

“Why?”

“Family gets together then we play games and eat lots of food. It has always been my favorite holiday ever since I was a kid.” Jimin‘s smile grows into a grin that makes Jungkook decide to lull himself in this subject longer. “God, this is a cheesy question from slambooks but since you brought it up, what’s yours?”

“New Year,” Jungkook replies instantly. “I like the adrenaline rushing through me whenever I count down the minutes separating two years. I like seeing the sparks of fireworks and the fact that this is the only day it is legal for you to cause some ruckus and make loud noises. It always promises a new start, a change in your life.”

Jungkook remembers his college days when they’ll sit on Seokjin’s car and drive around town blaring rap music beyond reasonable levels of volume, his mom’s eyes crinkling as she greets him “happy new year” with his dad, he and Junghyun buying those sticks that sparkle and cackle like small fireworks when you set them alight. The feeling of exhilaration, the tingles on his spine, the feeling of setting your eyes on only one end – Jungkook misses that. A new start, a change in my life, Jungkook always knew this is what he needed. He’s been too comfortable, too familiar with everyone that he felt foreign to the thought of making life exciting. What he feared most has already happened - Life has gotten boring. It numbed him of his will to live like he wanted to and made his days and nights dreary and aimless. It’s sad when every time he thinks of this he could picture the college student version of him years ago who declared he’ll never be like the adults who stopped living for the sake of existing.

Jimin must have realized what he meant with his reply and so as their drinks arrived, his friend’s words stuck to his mind until midnight as he slumped down on his bed, imagining the worn off lines of his ceilings to be constellations that disappeared after he graduated.

“Don’t worry. You’ll get your New Year soon. I know you can.”

Winter finally melted away when March came, only leaving the cold breeze and chilly dewy mornings for spring as remnants of its wake. Jungkook was never one to give sentimental meanings to seasons unlike his sappy florist friend. Jimin always told him spring is the first season – it’s a perfect time to start anew especially after winter wiped the life away of the usual plants that grew in his shop. He remembers Jimin telling him one afternoon, “The cold has ended and the time to plant new flowers has come. It wasn’t used as a personification for hope for nothing, you know.”

It was only now he thought that Jimin’s metaphors about spring must be true.

It was nine in the morning of a usual Monday when spring entered his shop with a swift swing of the door and a blur of pink sweater and jet black hair

Jungkook knows everyone just as how every resident in Myeongjang-dong knows everyone – except this girl. His eyes follow her as she stops at the sixth washer, dumps her laundry, presses some buttons, inserts some coins, closes the cover, presses start, and finally sits on the bench. It was only then he noticed she carried some sort of paperback with lots of black and white pages – too big for a pocket book, its cover too minimalistic in design to be a magazine.

After living in the town for so many years, he thinks maybe he adapted the prying attentiveness of old country people. It makes him feel better thinking this could be the reason why he suddenly want to decipher the paperback in the girl’s hand, not because he’s too attached to the sentiment of having some kind of change that could alter the repeated cycle of his life. Minutes are not enough for him to recognize the material when he realizes the paperback was no more in view and he’s now staring at her eyes. Jungkook immediately tears his gaze away before he could print the crease of her eyelids or the color of her irises in his memory. He chides himself for being too curious even though he knows no matter what he tries to convince himself with, this inquisitiveness will only creep behind his back and implant itself in his mind.

Most of his customers are patrons, people he have known for so many years as their predecessors have also been patrons since his grandparents started this business. He couldn’t recall anyone’s relative who has a short stature and shoulder-length hair that matches this girl. He also hasn’t heard of any newly moved residents or any tourists traveling around their area. It’s impossible for her to live in a neighboring town and just come to Myeongjang-dong just for the sake of her laundry. He thinks it’s only fair for him to question her origin and motive.

He lets his eyes wander again to the girl’s way, noticing now that Minhee Jung, the photographer down the block, is also staring at the new girl. Mrs. Lee is also here, sitting on the other side of the bench looking agog to know her identity. He wasn’t the only one curious of her then.

Minutes passed with his eyes running through the pages of the 4th volume of Naruto he borrowed from Jimin with the mechanical whirring of the machines that turned to be melodic in time. His reading was interrupted with him bidding Minhee goodbye and helping Mrs. Lee with her laundry, including occasional gazes on the girl who kept flipping through the paperback he was still trying to figure out. The air in the laundromat wasn’t so still like yesterday. Jungkook felt strange when relief engulfed him with the steady hymn of pages turning.

By ten’ o clock, the girl finished her laundry and left with a soft “goodbye” Jungkook almost fails to hear. The minute she steps outside, the man shoots up from his seat and strides to the glass door in big steps to watch her disappearing figure make a turn on the corner of Kim’s Italian Restaurant. It dawns on him it’s also the same route he takes on his way home but he thinks he’s being paranoid. He couldn’t give a substantial answer why his attention was so hooked to the girl and her paperback so he didn’t bother to confuse himself further than he already is. Jungkook just blames it on the unusual black and white paperback so he can sleep that night.

It wasn’t until Wednesday when Jungkook’s interest was piqued again. The girl entered his shop at nine ’o clock, used the same washer, sat on the same spot of the bench and pulled out that damn paperback. Just like what he did on Monday, he read the same manga, though now he was on the 12th volume because he’s determined to finish Naruto to prove Jimin he can catch up to this story about ninjas. However, his usual reading pace is slowed down just so he can look at the girl in patterned successions; his eyes drift to her way when he lands at pages whose numbers are divisible by four. After three, four glances, he thinks she looks attractive in her blue pullover and gray jeans as her attention is captured by the paperback which is driving him mad.

Jungkook prides himself for his rationality. Even in his group of friends, his common sense and wit is regarded functional whenever they end up in sticky situations brought by his group’s occasional sprouts of foolishness. However today, Jungkook can’t really keep up this pride as said rationality is thrown somewhere when he decided to stand up and walk around the shop to finally discern just what this infuriating paperback is.

The pace of his walk is sluggish, almost similar to a fugitive’s gait as he pretends to inspect the washers on the opposite side of the one she’s using. He knows he doesn’t look suspicious as his customers know he does walk around the shop to assist them, “except today,” Jungkook thinks. His walk gradually slows to a stop when he neared the spot behind her, her back coming into full view as now he can finally look at the page. It’s black and white. Black ink swirled around and met other lines to form a mandela, “a flower,” Jungkook prefers. Patterns circled around with detailed geometric shapes and curvy triangular projections that made petals look so abstract than it should be. The other page is also the same – a black and white mandela he is sure would look better with some actual colors than the present monochrome scheme. “It’s a coloring book,” Jungkook mutters under his breath, comprehension now settling as to why this material is an outsider in his shop. He’s used to seeing his customers flipping through printed materials filled with pages to pass the time – mostly books and magazines. It isn’t everyday one would see someone bring a coloring book with them to a laundromat and just stare at it for a whole hour.

The girl picked up on Jungkook’s uncalled prolonged inactivity as she suddenly turned to her back, her eyes catching his guilty stance of peering, of “being prying,” Jungkook thinks. He immediately composes himself, his mouth preparing a buyable excuse his mind has concocted. “Ah- I’m sorry if I bothered you. I was just checking the washers.”

The girl only gives him a tight smile and a polite nod before she quickly returns her attention to her coloring book.

Jungkook reminds himself not to act like a weirdo anymore to save himself from nerve-wracking explanations for his questionable actions he himself is finding hard to understand. He leaves her spot, walks around the washers, never going to her side to avoid another wave of awkwardness. He whips out his manga the second he returned to his station and convinces himself to just stick to reading because he needs to finish this volume by tomorrow. He thinks he’s effort is impressive for trying hard to anchor his attention back to the comic book though he couldn’t proudly say he did enough to avoid the girl’s direction for just thirty minutes. He guiltily admits he can’t keep himself from sneaking a few glances in between reading. He thinks his reason to do so could justify the act this time. It’s just too weird, he thinks. Why buy a coloring book if you’re not going to color it anyway? Why stare at it for an hour? What’s so interesting with a black and white drawing anyway?

The girl bids him goodbye by the same ten o’clock mark and Jungkook finds himself rooted again on the glass door as he watches her silhouette blend with the province landscape and remnants of the morning glow of the sun. Today he blames it on the girl’s unusual pastime that bewildered him up to the day of her return.

By Friday, Jungkook’s certain he’s acting like a damn stalker and he doesn’t know how to explain for himself anymore. The girl arrived at the same time, same jeans and sweater – a dandelion yellow now – ensemble, and did the same routine in front of the sixth washer. However, Jungkook could make out she brought something with her along with her coloring book. He raises himself from his seat a little to just peek – and oh it’s a watercolor set, the cheap set he usually sees in the neglected corners of bookstores. He falls back down on his seat when the girl suddenly stood up and walked towards his station. For a moment Jungkook panicked, he sat up so straight he almost knocked off the air of himself as his hands frantically pat his askew shirt, desperately making himself look presentable. “Shit, maybe she figured out I’m being a creep,” he thinks as he counts the seconds she’ll stand in front of him and demand for him to stop acting so suspicious – but that doesn’t happen. He could see her stand clueless by the door, her head snap left then right, probably thinking what to do, before she decides to wind up to the right end of the shop where the comfort room is situated. Jungkook counts up to ten seconds when her figure reappears, her right hand now occupied by a small see through cup filled halfway with water. Jungkook diverts his attention to the fifth page of the 12th volume of Naruto when the girl nears his station before he returns his gaze on her to see her now opening the watercolor set.

Jungkook thinks it’s unusual to be so amused watching a girl color a page using watercolor. He doesn’t know what he finds so relaxing with her peaceful posture - her coloring book laid open on her lap, the watercolor set placed on her left side as her hand gracefully flicks the brush around. He can’t make excuses for himself anymore why he’s itching to know what she’s coloring, what kind of color she is using now, why watercolor and not colored pencils. Some kind of tranquility blankets the interior of his shop as he flips through his manga again, his excitement dying down to an unperturbed state he never felt until recently. The mechanical song of the machines lulled him to delve in the world of ninjas, recurrent glimpses on the girl brings him back to his world in Myeongjang-dong. By eleven o’clock she bids him goodbye and then Jungkook finds himself staying by the glass door again. Jungkook can’t think of anything to blame now as he ponders over her extended stay just to finish her coloring session.

On Sunday, Jungkook finally decided to approach her. She came by nine ’o clock again wearing a lime green sweater and faded jeans bringing the same watercolor set and coloring book. Jungkook saw her making her way to the sixth washer and already expected her to do her laundry routine, sit on the bench, and start coloring. He didn’t expect he will be met by a missed note in his machines’ automatic symphony caused by anxious tapping of fingers against metal and the desperate squeak of the money return button under unforgiving pressure. The girl’s figure was hunched on the floor, her fingers flicking the coin slot and rapping the surface of the washer in interlaced sequence and this time Jungkook knows this is the reason why he should actually go to her and not because of him being nosy as per previous encounters.

“Umm, excuse me, let me help you,” Jungkook gets on his knees beside her, already insulting himself for sounding so dumb.

“My coins got stuck inside – I”

“No it’s alright. It happens sometimes. Don’t worry.”

Jungkook fishes his pen from his pocket, twists its cap to turn on the small handy flashlight he uses to make out the metal works in the dark crevices for him to determine the problem. He tuts his tongue, realizing the coin jam can’t be solved with simple knocking and tapping of the machine.

“What’s the problem?”

“There’s a coin tipped to the side inside. Don’t worry, it’s easy to fix.” He grabs the toolbox placed at the foot of his chair, right where he places his slippers for comfort, and he pulls it up to rest on his desk. He’s glad he decided to keep a toolbox for incidents like this even when Jimin discouraged him why he needed a toolbox since he’s not a washing machine mechanic. He opens the box and gets his utility knife before closing it again.

Jungkook may not know how to fix washing machines in general but he learned how to fix simple problems like this back when he aided his mother ran the shop. He slid the knife in the slot, pushed the tilted coin with it, and twists it a little. When he felt it slide smoothly, he smiles as it starts the tuned music he has been waiting five minutes ago.

“It’s fixed now,” he gets up from his knees and closes the cover before standing up only to meet the girl’s eyes in such close proximity, her breath so close to his chest he could feel the hairs at the back of his neck standing up . He’s frozen in his spot and he could only stare at her, her image surely making an impression in his mind. Her small warm brown orbs are adorned by creaseless eyelids. She has small cheekbones and he could see blemishes on her cheeks but her make-up did a good job in hiding them he thought twice if they were really there in the first place. Her face is shaped like a strawberry, her thin lips painted cerise that can rival any shade of red. Before Jungkook could stop himself from staring, the girl stepped away and cleared her throat softly muttering an apology, bringing the man back to his senses.

“Umm, yeah, it’s okay now, just press the start button,” He murmurs then immediately turns away, his eyes set for his station before he was delayed by a soft voice he now has a face he could match with.

“Thank you.”

“It’s alright,” Jungkook says without turning back as he sits on his chair, his lips unknowingly curving into a smile.

She leaves by twelve in the afternoon with a goodbye after finishing another page. Jungkook wonders if he’ll have his following weeks filled with her presence like this.

That night he was enveloped in the hospitality of Jimin’s small unit nursing a cold glass of water to amend the sheen of sweat glistening on his neck. His friend’s house is wedged between two other complexes around the street that corners Old Sangmin’s bakery. He felt the need to take the ten minute fast walk right after closing the laundromat just so he can get some answers he is very embarrassed to ask for. After dawdling on the polaroids that hung on his friend’s wall which portrayed Jimin’s family, their group, and his girlfriend, he thinks it’s time to disregard this empty pride and just start speaking.

“Have you heard of any newly-moved residents in town?” He licks his chapped lips before he opts to be clear with his intentions. “A girl around 5’2, long hair, always wears sweaters, jeans, and Converse sneakers?”

The playful glint in Jimin’s eyes did not surface when recognition first kicks in. “Oh her! She’s the new resident in the apartment complex across yours.”

“What?”

“You didn’t know?” The gleam in Jimin’s eyes is of pure unbelief. “She just moved in last week. Saw her carrying a luggage on your street last Sunday afternoon when I was doing bouquet deliveries.”

“How come I didn’t know about this?”

“You open your Laundromat at the ass crack of dawn and go straight to bed past ten. Of course you wouldn’t notice. Actually,” Jimin’s eyes sweep over his sofa before bringing it back to his friend, his stance more rigid. “I heard there’s something with her. No one in the area knows anything about her. No one could even say where she has come from.” He leans closer as if someone will hear him, “She seems secretive too. Suspicious, no?

Jungkook snickered, shaking his head. “Are you sure you’re not just relaying gossips you heard from the housewives here?”

“Maybe,” Jimin rests his case as he leans back, dismissing delirious perceptions influenced by old town idle talk. He then startles Jungkook when he decides to turn the subject to him. “Why did you ask?”

�� Jungkook hoped to evade this question when he made his visit but then he has no choice now as his friend’s teasing smirk signifies he wouldn’t let him drop the subject anytime soon. “Okay fine, I find her weird. She came to the Laundromat on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and this morning at the same time – 9 a.m. And she always bring this coloring book –”

“What the hell.”

“I know, right? It’s weird. She brought this coloring book and stared at it for one hour and then on Friday she decided she wanted to color-“

“No,” Jimin interrupts him, the smirk on his lips erased by the staggered look in his eyes. “What’s really weird is she does laundry four times a week. No person living alone would need to wash their clothes that frequently.”

Jungkook wished that night he didn’t hear Jimin’s remark. He only realized that this girl’s laundry schedule is anomalous enough to disregard her strange affinity with her coloring book. “Four times a week, Jesus Christ,” the man drapes his arm over his eyes but it’s useless when he can see mandelas playing on the cracked lines of his ceiling. His friend’s observation planted itself in his head like lawn weeds. It proliferated in his thoughts and formed a growing sea of green that always taunted him to just dive in. It's annoying; disquietude shouldn't be so charming.

The weight of his thoughts only materialized when the following weeks came. The once plain days of Jeon’s Laundromat is now perplexed by this girl four days in a week – Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. She always comes by at nine ‘o clock in the morning, does her laundry, and stares at her coloring book or colors some pages, “always with watercolor,” Jungkook notes. The sharp swing of the door signals her arrival along with the gust of cool dewy breeze from the outside and after that, Jungkook’s attention is now on her until she leaves. By the second Friday, Jungkook confirms Jimin’s right when he said there’s something with this girl. This woman washes the same clothes she already washed in her previous visit. His eyes became familiar with the sight of the pink and blue striped button down, lavender skirt, and royal blue dress being dumped inside the washing machine. Sometimes it’s the yellow sundress, white pleated skirt, and mint green blouse he thinks she doesn’t wear in the first place. He sees them pristine clean even before she dumps it in and still pristine clean after she washed them. Jungkook doesn't linger on probable reasons behind her activity when he's already drifting in his space, wondering why he’s bothered by the thought of their colors fading anytime soon.

Her presence is tangible in some days and an aftertaste in every night. Jungkook never saw her in the days that were not in the schedule of her laundry nor is he fortunate to have just a glimpse of her room light turned on when he comes home. His ears are already used to the quiet street, soft click of the light switch, and the silent hiss when he draws apart the drapes on his window; the dark rooms across his apartment devoid of any life. The hollowness at nights was filled with dreams of mandelas and watercolors and it is until the day after tomorrow will these dormant curiosity and sense of adventure come full force; a reminder that there is indeed life, just not visible for him at nights.

She’s queer, odd, unfamiliar, and definitely offbeat in the musical of his very ordinary, normal, and uneventful life but her tune is not outlandish to be disturbing. He can’t will himself to admit to Jimin he likes watching her color pages with her cheap watercolor set, wondering to himself how she likes to color, or what her favorite color is because she always come in his shop wearing sweaters in hues that define the vibrant spring. The air around the laundromat is colored with new pigments as the girl brushes around her coloring book while Jungkook reads mangas. The music of the washers accompanies exchanges of shy glances and the timid curve of lips.

This is uncharted area, an unexplored field, and his bare feet is still trying to get used with the rough and itchy weeds but he doesn't deny the buzz in his bloodstream wills him to run across this sea of green and just forget they were in fact parasitic foliage on his lawn. He goes against the cautions of unfamiliarity set on his door since he was a child and decides maybe - just maybe a discrepancy can actually give him comfort.

He starts to anticipate the days of her visit and the undisclosed wishes of her mandelas.

Geometry suddenly became a fascination on Tuesday.

Jungkook postponed business until eight thirty when he realized his refrigerator is practically devoid of anything edible. He used his usual opening time and first two hours in Farmer’s Market and by half past seven he is already waiting by the bus stop, his hands occupied with plastic bags that will satisfy his appetite for the following week.

The road was silent, except for faint chatters of the town people and the brief appearances of trucks and local cars. Farmer’s Market is a subdued repose in weekdays and a loud frenzy in weekends, Jungkook remembers as he sits down on the bench. He settles his purchase by his side, muscles effortlessly releasing the tension he wishes his mind could do a better job at. God, he’s already tired and he hasn’t started work yet.

Rustling of the leaves filled in the noiseless street and the patterned zipping of vehicles cannot make it better, exaggerating the seconds to grow into centuries in his mind. Jungkook knows he needs something to occupy his mind. His eyes look down at his wrist adorned with the watch that was handed down from his father. He always felt comfortable with the warm brown leather straps, still-distinct black of roman numerals arranged on a circular plate of the yellowing white face of the clock. The hands were at seven and nine, two lines connected at the center. And since they look like lines, they also look like they could extend whenever at whatever point - his plane geometry teacher said so. Can it turn into something when the area near seven is connected to one and nine is connected to three? Can expansion of mere periods create a difference from its original form?

Jungkook thinks yes, it can when he recognizes the familiar supplementary lines he used to draw on his notebooks. Extremes can be in unison in the form of acute and obtuse angles. The angles are uneven but they still measure a 180. They can be a clean 90 - 90 but Jungkook prefers them unbalanced because he wanted to feel normalcy in inconsistency. Jungkook then sees the lines on the aged face of his clock transform to lines on the graying white and blue of Jeon's Laundromat. His laundromat their point of intersection with him and the sweater girl as the lines that will coexist in the brief two or three hours if she decides to finish one page. The difference between their angles so noticeable like the drastic split between 120 and 60 because her fleeting hours of stay cannot equal the stagnant years he lived on this establishment. Jungkook thinks his ceiling will now bear the misalignment of these askew lines.

Jungkook detaches himself from his trance when he felt the bench creak. The wooden parallel lines of the bench on his right were unceremoniously interrupted by another person. Blue jeans, cherry red fuzzy sweater, and straight jet black hair makes Jungkook remind himself that emergence of supplementary lines is scheduled on the day after tomorrow, ascertained tomorrow if it’s Sunday or Tuesday like today. Tuesday is not tomorrow. Why is she here? Jungkook sides a glance, ever perplexed with her presence, and he sees her hunched over, hands on knees, puffing out tired breaths, and still unaware of him with plastic bags of the same color as his by her side. With the sunlight gracing her profile, she looks more breath taking than he remembers. He was already taken aback before with her imperfectly beautiful freckles and her thin red lips, but what he never noticed before was the raven black crowning her head, darker than her midnight tresses; an indistinct inconsistency of her natural being.

Appearance of green and blue lines crosses his vision and disrupts his thoughts. The sudden whish of opening doors makes him look down on his watch while standing up to grab his bags. It was only 7:56, such little time never felt so long. As he sets his eyes toward the bus, he now notices the strange sweater girl was no longer by his side and was now struggling on the metal steps of the vehicle.

Should he help her? Helping her won’t make him seem creepy right? Damn it, Jungkook hurries toward her side. He gently taps her shoulder and mutters, “I’ll help you with this.”

She must be quite startled with his sudden interference with her widened eyes and parted lips, but the man can’t seem to be aware of this when he’s mesmerized with her eyes, registering their color is not just brown, it’s hazel. He sure learns more about her this Tuesday which cannot be granted in the confines of his laundromat. He immediately looks down and grabs her plastic bags as the thought of social convention enters his mind which deems it quite inappropriate to stare for too long.

“For one passenger or two?” The rough voice of the driver in his mid forties weirdly sounds outlandish to his ears when he stood up to place his card on the sensor for the vehicle fare.

“Uh…”

“Only one,” the firm tone makes the male whip his head to sweater girl’s way, now nearing him as she got up the steps and flashed her own card before beeping it.

“You don’t have to, I got my own,” she pulls her lips a little into a smile.

Jungkook feels spring coloring his cheeks with embarrassment. This is so uncool. He tears his gaze from her and settles it on the nearest vacant seats behind the elderly woman and a married couple seated in the first two rows. He lets her make her way first before following, his eyes trained on his shoes until he plops himself down on his seat. “Too much for one day, shucks.”

“Thank you for helping me.”

“Huh?” He looks at her face and sees her expectant expression before realization hits him.” Ah- oh here are your bags,” he gives them to her, disregarding how her fingers felt a little calloused when they overlapped his. This shouldn’t even attract him and yet he finds himself magnetized towards her eyes again.

“Pull yourself together, man!,” He averts his eyes toward the opposite direction, hoping for the ride to end faster ‘cause shit he’s acting like a retard now and he can’t even redeem himself by engaging in small talk-

“You’re Jeon Jungkook, right?”

“Wait- huh?” Jungkook whips his face toward her direction with such alarm in his eyes as if he was caught stealing. He thinks she hid her bewilderment of his suspicious behavior behind curious eyes and a friendly smile.

“Jungkook-sshi right? Owner of Jeon’s Laundromat?”

“Why – ah yes,” Jungkook almost forgot that here in Myeongjang-dong, everyone does know everyone. He opens his mouth to speak but found words dying down his throat. He can’t think of how to continue the conversation when his awkward reply simply ended her attempt of small talk. He observed her eyes glancing his way then back to the window, her fingers twiddling with each other as the quietness settle on both of them.

“Maybe she’s also uncomfortable with such quietness,” Jungkook thinks. Small talk probably eases the pressure from the silence between two strangers who surely have acknowledged each other’s presences before. Since she went beyond her way and started a small talk with him, the man thinks it’s only right that this time, he start one. So when the bus halts on the next stop to let the married couple get down, Jungkook is staring at her way and opens his mouth.

“You do market shopping on Tuesdays too?”

It’s her turn to be startled as she looks his way, her mouth gaping before stretching into a pleasant line. It’s fortunate she smiles a lot; she has a beautiful smile. “Y–yes. It’s less chaotic during weekdays.”

Jungkook felt his own lips tugging into a crescent. He finds courage to talk more and bask longer in her presence. Relief seeping in his bones when he notices the shimmer of curiosity in her hazel orbs. It’s been such a long time he noticed those childlike glimmer in the eyes of the people around him apart from his friends.

“I heard from people you just moved in here.”

“Ah, yes around the first week of March. My friend recommended a better work position around here. I’m an accountant by the way,” she supplies with a chuckle. “How about you? Did you start your business on your own?”

“No, my grandfather started the family business and it was passed down to my mother then to me. It also happened that my patrons are successors of my grandfather’s patrons.

“It’s wonderful then that you continued the family legacy.”

“It is,” Jungkook replies with a timid smile.

The next minutes were spent in silence, less awkward now, and when the bus halts on the fourth stop, Jungkook stands up to bid goodbye when the girl beat him to it.

“This is your stop too?”

Oh, right she lives across him. Jungkook rubs his neck. “Uhh… yes.”

They stepped out of the bus, the girl’s plastic bags secured in Jungkook’s grip (he insists to do so), as they walk in peace past the Italian restaurant. During their silent trip, she dropped in casual remarks how the weather was nice today, or her neighbors were so kind to give her homemade kimchi when she moved. Jungkook told her that people here are really warm and Busan style kimchi is one of a kind to which she agrees. As they go up the stairs of Ahjummah Bongcha’s apartment complex, Jungkook can’t help but glance at his own unit just across the street. How many nights has he spent wondering how this girl lives across him when he can’t even sense an inkling of life and now he’s here, feet landing on the front of her unit in the third floor as he gives her her plastic bags. Lines are lingering at the intersection today before they can become supplementary lines now with a smaller difference of fifty-eight degrees.

“By the way where do you live?” She gives him an inquisitive look as she sets her plastic bags down first before she can put them inside.

Jungkook suddenly feels like a thief caught in his act. “Don’t get creeped out, okay? I live across you –”

“And you didn’t make any remarks when we’re climbing up the steps?”

“I only noticed now, I swear!” Jungkook grins. “I was absentminded when we’re going up the steps –”

She suddenly laughs, slapping his shoulders playfully and Jungkook really does swear a tingle of electricity didn’t just sprout from the contact. “I’m just kidding, don’t get too defensive.” She opens her screen door and makes ready to bid goodbye. “Thank you with the plastic bags, again, Jungkook-sshi.”

Jungkook suddenly realizes he missed something important every rational person engaging in small talk should have known in the first place. He holds onto her arm before she can close the door and she looked so shocked with the sudden action. His next words make those hazel eyes soften and her lips extend into a charming smile Jungkook knows he’ll always remember before he goes to sleep.

“What’s your name by the way?”

“Kim, Sarang.”

The strange sweater girl doesn’t seem so strange now.

The following days have been a blur of sparks and new colors but Jungkook manages to remember them all. The peculiar Kim Sarang, the color of her sweaters, the stretches of her smiles, her longer visits, and the pigments she likes on her mandelas.

Monday permitted him to go to her usual seat and ask about her day as per social convention for two acquaintances. He gestured to her ever familiar coloring book filled with colored and black and white mandelas and he spent that day learning that watercolors and coloring books were a big part of her childhood. She has always been fascinated with transluscence and light play, the way the first splash of tints won’t look the same way when the minutes dried them up.

“You have to be very good in predicting how they’ll look after you painted them, so it’s really important to know the amount of water you’ll put in the paint,” she demonstrates with a flick of her wrists and lets him see the mirage of lilacs filling the petals of another Mandela, the same color of her sweater today.

“Then, you must be really good at predictions,” Jungkook chuckles.

“Nah, the outcomes are just easier for me to see because I’m already used to them.” She then looks at him, “You said your medium of preference is colored pencils so you’re already used how the outcomes of the textures will look.”

“Uh, I think not. I just wing it and it happens to look good.” Jungkook’s crinkled eyes matches the grin now painted on her lips as she laughs.

She ends her laundry duty with Jungkook helping her and a smile with a wave “See you next time” as she steps out his laundromat. The man finds himself planted on the doorstep, watching her leave by twelve o’clock, wishing next time would come sooner.

Soon enough, next time, comes two days later in the form of Wednesday and a game of twenty questions.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue. Yours?”

Jungkook grins, “Red.”

It’s Sarang’s turn to start another question.“Favorite holiday?”

“New Year.” Jungkook could already feel warmth spreading on his chest with just the thought of it.

“Oh yours just comes next to mine. Mine’s Christmas.”

“Really? Then you must like all the Christmas lights and the trees”

“God no, I’m just in for the gifts.”

Jungkook’s blank face makes her guffaw. “Okay, I like the lights and trees. It’s sounds so corny when I say it out loud.”

“Then mine’s cornier. I like new beginnings.”

“Wow, you’re sentimental.”

“Yeah, kinda explains why I have that stupid car freshener by my side. Jimin gave it to me when I told him I’m going back in Busan and he thought I have my own car. His face is undescribable when he was so disappointed he saw me coming down from the bus.”

“But he’s happy you kept it.”

“Yeah he was. He’s one sappy fellow-“

He just didn’t expect a third person to join in. “I’m so gonna tell hyung about that.”

“Oh no! Jihyun, Wait!”

Wednesday was quite short when Sarang left by eleven thirty with a grocery errand she has to do and Jungkook says it’s okay, his hand resting on the collar of Jihyun’s shirt. It’s okay, he’ll see her again soon enough.

Friday was not so okay when florist Park Jimin suddenly barged in the laundromat while Jungkook is in mid-sentence about his dog Cloud, Sarang also surprised with the new presence.

“So I heard I was sappy.” Jungkook could tell Jimin was quite offended.

“Uh… you are.”

“You brat –“

“You know you have a business to attend to right?” Jungkook points to his flower shop.

“Shop’s closed because I wanna visit my childhood friend-“

“We see each other everyday.”

“- who happens to just remembers me as a ‘sappy fellow’”

Jimin turns his attention to Jungkook’s company, his eyes lighting up when he recognizes the girl Jungkook was talking about. He offers her a hand, “Sorry for my interruption. I’m Park Jimin, you must be sweater girl-“

Jungkook suddenly chokes on his own spit.

“Umm, Kim Sarang actually.” The girl shakes his offered hand with a polite smile.

“Sorry,” Jungkook apologizes while already pushing Jimin out of the shop, “he makes stupid remarks sometimes but he has good intentions.”

“Hands off me, brat.”

“No, get out. You have your own business to attend to.”

“Hey, you’re only 25, I’m already 27. I was born here first. I ate more rice than you.”

“You-“

Their banter was suddenly interrupted with a set of giggles that came from sweater girl. “You must have a wonderful childhood,” she remarks before she suddenly remembers Jimin might have been set aback “Oh, sorry for laughing, I just-“

“It’s okay,” Jimin reassures, making his way to her side already getting comfortable on the bench, “It’s what makes me charming, got my girlfriend swooning with the Chim Charms.”

Jungkook felt the need to interject. “Yuck.”

“Shut up.”

Sarang’s curiosity wills Jungkook to talk about his childhood. He tells her about how close he was with his grandparents and parents, the treats they spoil him with, and that everyone in town was friends with their family. Jimin also shares in the story-telling when they got to the part how nine year old Jungkook accidentally spilled laundry water on Park Jimin when he was cleaning up. Fortunately, little Jimin agreed to forgive him if he would play with him because other boys in town ignore him since he’s a wimp and with those puppy eyes he won over nine year old troublemaker Jungkook who he later found out was two years younger than him.

“I’m still bitter about it.”

“No one cares hyung.”

Jungkook continues on with his tale. He can’t stop when the girl was looking at him with eyes that will him to talk and talk. It feels strange to tell someone about his whole childhood and adolescence; how he stuck with his friends he met in high school through Jimin, how lightweight he feels telling her all about his good old days, because everyone has, there will always be good days even though life has ever been hopeless and miserable.

Sarang gave him stories of her own happy days in return. He learns that even though she lives far from her parents, they always wait for her daily Skype calls every evening without fail. She also has a childhood friend named Aecha whom she met in daycare when no one wants to play with her because she’s a klutz and kept messing the arranged tables of other girls for tea parties.

“Like Jimin,” Jungkook side comments, earning a playful elbow nudge from the florist to which she laughs.

Sarang tells him she’s got a lot of similarities with Aecha except being good in math to which Jungkook says it happened to be his best subject.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Jimin answers before Jungkook can. “He went to school competitions for math quiz bees and he manages to always, always get the gold medal.”

“Pure luck.”

“I think not,” Jimin insists. “His mother has this display thing in their living room where all his medals are. All gold, I’m telling you. Oh, plus certificates from art events in college.”

“Really? Wow, you must have passed through high school and college with flying colors.” Sarang turns to Jungkook and he’s taken aback when he sees the flicker of interest in her eyes. He doesn’t know what to feel about it.

“Can’t give Math all the credits though,” Jungkook rubs his neck. “Drafting classes gave me the rainbow wings which I used to fly with flying colors.”

“Rainbow wings? That’s new,” She sniggered. “You said you draw sometimes but I never thought you were this good.”

Jungkook lets out an awkward laugh as Jimin starts to sell him out again. “He’s really good. He used to draw cool backgrounds for school events which provided him extra allowance he used to treat his family, sometimes me.” Jungkook feels Jimin getting sappy now, “He’s really gifted, he even helped me paint my flower shop which garnered much compliments from my customers.”

Sarang’s smile got wider now. “If you’re good in numbers and art, I’m guessing you took architecture as your major right?”

“Uhh yes,” Jungkook rubs his nape again, already uncomfortable. Jimin suddenly senses this and tries to change the subject but-

“You must have tried making blueprints for a company before, no?”

The sudden question got Jungkook rigid and stiff. He suddenly diverted his eyes away from her, her words left hanging caused a sudden sweep of cold air in the midst of spring, seemingly freezing their conversation as well in a hideous iceberg, suddenly growing sharp spikes that taunt him. Seasons should be chronological in manner, he can’t remember autumn when he’s trusting spring to cure him. He can’t remember now-

“Your watch, is that your father’s?”

Jungkook returns his gaze on her, her hazel eyes so gentle and her thin lips smiling not as wide as before but it’s still warm enough to soften the edges of the tension. Jungkook appreciates her effort of noticing his discomfort and exhales slowly with “Yes, how did you know?”

“It’s got brown leather straps and the face is already yellowed. It’s quite a trend for men back then.”

Jungkook dismisses any unpleasant thoughts when he pulls a smile for himself. Good old days. “I always liked these straps than stainless silver ones. I’m more comfortable with this.”

Jimin smiles and tries to liven up the mood again, “Yeah, when he got it from his dad he won’t shut up about it.”

Jungkook stares at him to which Jimin nudges away.

Sarang leaves by twelve thirty, laundry in hand, and an apology to what happened earlier. Jungkook can’t bring himself to watch her leave like he always does.

“You know, she doesn’t know, right? Don’t be too upset.” Jimin tears his attention from whatever that will seem to enclose around him again.

“I know hyung, it’s just-“

“I understand. Just… don’t be closed off. I think there’s still something about her,” Jimin scrunches his face as he gestures, “with the four times a week laundry duty or maybe just because she’s a clean freak. But seeing her now,” he looks at the laundromat owner, “she’s kinda alright; just… curious and interested. Like you are about her.”

It wasn’t until he got home by the raven night sky of ten o’clock does he understand Jimin’s point when he finds a plastic food container containing a still hot stew before his doorstep. He picks up the sticky note attached on top of it, a neat handwritten “I’m sorry about earlier - KS” in black ink. No need to feel too hurt. It’s been years, he has to move on. It is already a luxury to have the pure interest of others for the purpose of understanding in this world when nitpicking other’s flaws mattered more than anything else for the ‘necessity’ of leverage on others.

Jungkook straightens up, a smile and wave ready to be sent to the apartment across his only to be greeted by a dark unit with no hint of any life.

Sunday came around too soon for Jungkook’s liking but the thought was quickly diminished when his eyes caught a movement of rose pink while he’s reading the 13th volume of Naruto. He snaps his neck toward the wall clock and right, it’s already nine o’clock. Of course, spring is here.

He stood up from his desk and found Sarang already seated on her usual spot, same coloring book and watercolor set by her side. He walks by her side and before she acknowledges him, he already starts speaking.

“Uhh Sarang, thank you for the kimchi stew two days ago, I just,” he looks down when he feels his throat getting blocked up. “I hope I didn’t scare you that day.”

“Oh no, you didn’t,” she shifted in her seat. “I just felt bad because I thought maybe I offended you in some way-“

“No offense taken, the topic was just… uncomfortable for me.” Sarang gestured for him to take a seat beside her and he does so. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it anytime soon.”

“I know, it’s okay,” she smiles. “People don’t like talking about what unsettles them.”

“Thank you for understanding.”

Sarang’s smile just gets wider. Jungkook isn’t sure if it’s only for him with the way it looks somehow strange but he knows he feels a tad better now.

“You’re a great cook by the way. The stew was amazing. It has this some distinct taste, definitely not from Busan. It must be from your hometown then.”

Jungkook notices her eyes flicker in a way he can’t comprehend but he doesn’t mind it too much when she tells him “I- I don’t think it reflects anything from my hometown. I used to live in Gwangsan-gu, Gwangju, but I never managed to capture the Gwangju taste in my cooking.” She paused for a while before she lets out a chuckle, “But I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Jungkook spends the rest of the minutes by her side in silence, watching her color the pages in uniform motion, union in her strokes evident, and how her favor of blue tints always happen to appear in huge splotches or in tiny linear details.

She leaves early by ten o’clock because of accounting works she needs to be done for the client she’s working with. Jungkook sends her off with a smile, watching her retreating figure. Few words were shared today but Jungkook could see more opportunities in the following days, affirmed so when she turns back for the first time before she rounds the Italian restaurant to give him one last smile.

The following weeks proved it to be true as each day bled to another one. The day seemed like a millisecond, too miniscule for Jungkook when months ago they felt tediously long like centuries. Spring will come by nine o’clock and another conversation and shared laughter will fill the timeframe of Sarang’s visit before they’ll part by twelve with full smiles and shy waves of their hands in their wake. His shop became livelier with animated chatters and giggles, stories of how he found a stray pup with his group of friends by the corner of their college dormitory and decided he’ll keep him as Cloud, how Sarang laughed when she told him she sucked at math and how many times she failed her college entrance exams but she still wants to be accountant so no one’s gonna stop her at that. “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” she snorted as Jungkook cackled. It sounds too hilarious that it surprised the man himself but he doesn’t care. It felt so long ago since he felt like this.

“D’you have anything you’re good at?”

Sarang turns to him with an incredulous look before lifting her book to him “Isn’t it obvious already?”

“No,” Jungkook sniggers as he clears his statement, “I mean aside from watercolor painting.”

“Well, what are you good at besides math and drawing.” She raises her eyebrows and moves them comically, something Jungkook considers weird at the same time awfully cute.

“You won’t believe it but I sing and dance.”

“Okay, you’re just bluffing.”

“No, it’s true!”

“As if. No one can be a whole package, you dork.”

“Just wait ‘til you see this,” the man fumbles for his phone, eyes scanning through numerous files before his thumb presses on the center. It starts to play with seven men on the stage in flashy outfits getting ready with their formation as a thunderous beat starts to boom out from his phone. “Too loud, too loud for the shop,” and Jungkook frantically inserts the jack of his earphones, fits his ear with one bud, and as he turns to his side, he never imagined he’ll get a close up of Sarang’s warm hazel eyes. “She really has pretty eyes- okay I’m violating her personal space.”

Jungkook clears his throat, “Umm, if you don’t mind I-” His fingers were ready to fit the bud in the girl’s ears before his action was intercepted with the girl’s much smaller fingers that sends a jolt to the man’s body.

“It’s okay,” she smiles, fitting the bud in her own ear. “I wanna watch your performance you’re so adamant to show me.”

“Not that adamant - okay fine.” Jungkook presses play again yet he cannot bring his eyes to focus on his first ever show performance for their college event. It was a good show actually, but Jungkook reasons he looks like shit there anyway and the view in front of him is much nicer to look at. Sarang with her eyes trained on the performance, lips painted in cherry gloss parted slightly, her figure leaning closer to him to get a much better view from his small outdated handphone. Jungkook basks in the lack of proximity between them as he watches her locks fall forward on the side of her face and God, he wants to tuck that hair behind her ear but he has to control himself so he puts his other hand on his side of his ear bud to look he’s also focused on the show. He’s never been focused on someone as much as now.

Five minutes have already passed as Sarang leans back in her place, surprising Jungkook as he realizes he’s stared at her profile for so long.

“You- you like it?” Jungkook trains his eyes somewhere to keep the blush creeping on his cheeks

“Yeah, you got some killer moves there, and vocals too, Mr. Justin Seagull”

“Oh my god, that was the dumbest stage name ever that I thought back then was really cool.” If spring has colored his cheeks earlier, well now his ears are already in vibrance too. “Anyway, what about me being a ‘whole package’ you said earlier,” Jungkook raises his eyebrow to attempt a smug look and he himself is surprised where the hell he got this cringey confidence just to mask up his blushing self.

“Oh stop it,” She chuckles, playfully hitting his shoulder. She looks down at her forgotten book as she smacks her lips together before she looks his way again. “To answer your question earlier, there’s something I’m also good at, aside from painting and my work.”

“Really? What is it?”

“I dance.”

“Can you show-“

“Sorry, I don’t have any embarrassing footage to show in exchange.”

“Hey, unfair!”

Jungkook never thought he could grin this much without hurting his jaw. Smiling, laughing – it felt so surprisingly effortless. It felt like he travelled back in time, back to his good old days with this foreign excitement he used to have now embedded on his chest that continues to manifest, overwhelming and unyielding even when he tried to contain them. He decides he wouldn’t stop; he can’t. He’ll continue to run over this uncharted zone, farther past the familiarity of what he has grown up to.

Each day, another page is colored in Sarang’s coloring book.

“What if you only use the colors I’m going to say for the next page.”

“I’m gonna accept that challenge.”

Jungkook grins.“Okay… use purple, pink, and brown.”

Sarang immediately flips the book close. “Forget it, you have a terrible color choice.”

“Just try it!”

“Fine.”

After a few minutes, Jungkook was already gaping at her. “Wow, it looked amazing.”

“Of course, I have to amend the hideous color scheme.”

“It was just for a challenge – okay touche.”

Everyday, another area is marked with memories on the unknown field of unfamiliarity.

“You know, you always walk in my shop in sweaters of various colors.”

“Well, I like colorful stuff.”

“Ohhhhkaayy.” Jungkook immediately leaves her place.

“Where are you going- Wait what is this?”

“Strawberry popsicle,” he hands it to her. “It’s pastel in color plus you’ve been eyeing that in my vending machine since yesterday.”

“Oh okay, thank-“

“That would be 500 won.”

“Nevermind.”

“I’m kidding! Take it, my treat.”

Everyday, another new conversation for Jungkook to run in his head as he slept with thoughts of supplementary lines, their angles not so askew anymore with 100 and 80 degrees angles, a 20 degree difference that makes him smile . Constellations on his ceiling started to burn brighter now, awakening dead stars long forgotten in the dust.

Weeks and weeks followed with Sarang’s longer visits and the ever present color of spring on Jungkook’s cheek that reflected their blooming friendship. A few times, the man finds himself convincing no one but him that he’s already satisfied with their childlike tales and childhood stories, sometimes mature discussions, and then… and then the prolonged stares, lingering touches, shy smiles. It’s foolish, pointless even to deny he wanted that 20 degree difference in their supplementary lines to disappear. In fact, no more supplementary lines; he wanted to feel her presence other than in his laundromat, the only intersection he has with her. How about a line? That could go on and on forever; he can meet her everyday with no hindrances at all. Right, he can opt for a line-

“So… how’s your girlfriend, son?”

“Huh?”

“Your girlfriend? The one with the coloring book.” Mr. Changmin Song tries again. Jungkook was still taken aback with the sudden interference in his thoughts so he lets his eyes focus again to what’s in front of him. Oh right, he was helping Mr. Song in packing his laundry. His mind is wandering towards her way too much again.

He clears his throat as he packs the last bundle in clear plastic. “Uhh, she’s… not my girlfriend.”

“You two always have a nice time here everyday, also not to mention I saw the food container on your doorstep one night when I went up to get my pliers back from Eunhui.” Mr. Song insists.

Right, everyone in Myeongjang-dong knows everyone, what did he expect? “We’re just friends, Mr. Song.” With three packed bundles in tow, Jungkook uses his hip to push his glass door open, stepping out of the shop to proceed to secure the bundles on Mr. Song’s bike.

Mr. Song follows him outside and positions himself next to his bike as he gives the laundromat owner a grateful smile. “Thanks son for helping me with this.”

Jungkook sends him a polite bow in return with “Anytime, sir.”

As the elder man positions himself on the bike, ready to pedal back home, he calls Jungkook’s attention one last time. “You know son, if you wanna get the girl, ask her on a proper date. That’s how I got my wife stuck by my side ever since. Okay I’m gonna go now, good luck with your romantic endeavors.”

“Thank..you, sir.”

Right. It’s foolish to convince himself he’s already satisfied with his friendship with Sarang, when from the start he already wanted more. The interest and attraction was already there, evident in his eyes even. Jimin tells him so one Wednesday night, spaghetti half finished as Jungkook cannot keep himself still in the back room of the florist’s shop.

“You look like a hungry puppy whenever you talk about her. Are you that thirsty?”

Jungkook spits out the water he’s drinking.

“What the hell?! That’s just unnecessary!” Jungkook accepts the napkins the florist handed him. ”How did Minyoung tolerate you with that mouth of yours?“

“It’s the Chim Charms – okay I’m gonna be serious.” Jimin pulls a straight face when Jungkook attempts to splash the water to his face.

“Hyung, I just…,” Jungkook messes up his hair in frustration, maybe in embarrassment also. “I wanna get to know about her other than in my shop. I want to meet her everyday, not just every other day.” He lets a shy smile slip on at the thought.

“…sap.”

“What?”

“Nothing! First off, go text her. Of course you already have her number, right - What do you mean no?”

Jungkook shakes his head, “I don’t know how to… you know I don’t know much in the dating scene. I’m not like you, or Tae-hyung, or Seokjin hyung who’s effortless in picking up girls.”

“Then the next time you see her, during your conversation just slip in casually, ‘hey can I get your number, if it’s okay?’” Jimin sees Jungkook’s eyes widen and he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Just be casual, okay? Keep it cool and manly like what you always fail to seem to be - ouch that hurt!”

A kick on the shin to his friend, and a “Thank you for the meal and happy birthday, more years for you to tolerate my insufferable hyung,” to Minyoung who sends him off with a friendly smile, Jungkook leaves Park’s Flower Shop. It’s already thirty minutes before midnight. He’ll just sleep it off then tomorrow he can see her again. His lips unconsciously pull into a smile.

He whistles the tune of some love song he heard in the radio as he makes the final steps towards the main door of his apartment complex when his eyes catches an unfamiliar movement right across him. Are those arms waving at him?

“Jungkook!”

Great. Now his mind is conjuring an imitation of her voice. He must be going crazy. He shakes his head and continues to walk only to be stilled again.

“Jungkook, hey!”

It sounds too real. He lets his eyes sweep before him, stopping at the movement of a figure and arms as he strain to focus them. Okay, this can’t be real.

“Sarang?”

“Yes! Sorry to bother you so late, but can I ask you a favor?”

Jungkook never thought he’ll get to see her this soon. “Okay, just hold this for me then I’m done,” Jungkook gives her the pliers he was using before returning to the bunch of red and black wires he was fiddling. A few twists here and there and a wrap of electrical tape, Jungkook bends down to plug in the now fixed cord of Sarang’s washing machine.

“I’m so sorry for disturbing you so late, I know you must be on your way home but you’re the only one I know around here-“

“Hey, what’s the rush?” Jeonguk stands up to meet Sarang’s eyes, stilling her from her rambling. “It’s okay,” He assures to which the girl relaxes her rigid shoulders. It really is okay, Jungkook thinks. More than okay, actually, when he gets to see Sarang in a messy bun, glasses perched on the bridge of her button nose, slim frame dressed in a long dress he guessed must belong to her mother.

“Umm, okay,” Sarang’s eyes wanders to the side, probably thinking what to say to fill in the silence. They must be doing it a lot, filling in the silence. The awkwardness drives the man to let his eyes travel around the unit that has always been plunged in darkness, until now. The furniture was decent, minimalist even with her small sofa pushed to the wall and an old television situated across the room. A coffee table in the center holds a couple of fashion and art magazines his mother used to display in the laundromat. Aside from that, nothing much stood out – no picture frames, any memorabilia that may give him a glimpse of her childhood.

“You must have been in the middle of unpacking.” Jungkook turns back to her.

“Huh?”

“Your unit,” he gestures around the room, “it misses picture frames of your family. I remember you told me your mom likes taking photos.”

“Ah yeah,” Sarang bites her lip, “I left some of the boxes back in Gwangju. The moving company will bring them to me by next week.”

Before Jungkook could enjoy more of her company, Sarang’s voice brings him back to his rationality. “Thank you for your help again. I know it must be getting late; I owe you a lot.”

“Ah, no need to worry about that,” Jungkook walks toward her screen door, Sarang close behind him.

“I still feel embarrassed though; If you need any favor in return, feel free to ask.”

“Okay, noted” Jungkook grins. A favor from sweater girl? Wow, he actually hit the jackpot tonight. But what favor can he ask her of? There’s practically nothing he needs assistance of - wait.

Before Sarang could send him off with a smile, Jungkook’s foot wedges itself between her screen door and wall, wind knocked out from himself with the sudden action.

“Actually, I already have a favor in mind,” Jungkook smiles. “Can I have your number?”

Jungkook never thought a day could pass without his heart humming around his ribcage. His days were still as is: open the laundromat at 5:30, collect the coin and clean the shop around nine or ten before he closes; refill vending machine and change machine every Tuesday and Thursday; do accounting works on Friday nights. Sarang still drops by at nine every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday, her stays getting longer and longer that Jungkook started sharing lunch times with her. The only difference might be the constant exchange of messages that fills his mornings and nights with grins and bubbling joy. He still isn’t able to have her presence in Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays; nor does the light in her unit rarely signal her residence in her home, but he got messages all week around to fill him with his hunger he never felt before.

Sometimes they’ll talk about miniature things that have never been interesting until now.

“So I read one day that washing machines have some meaning to them.”

“Yeah?” Sarang stops to look at his profile. “You’re starting to be real poetic about your business now.”

Jungkook chuckles, “I just came across it. Since they turn the clothes around them, it somehow mimics a cycle. You put dirty things in them and they come out clean now, kind of like how you change oneself for the better.”

Other times they’ll send messages about things that they have taken note of each other.

Sarang: Hey, I just passed Mr. Sangmin’s bakery. I bought some muffins. (3:30 PM)

Jungkook: Oh really? I’m gonna buy some later ahahahha (3:31 PM)

Sarang: No need. I already bought enough for us two. Expect me there by 4. (3:31 PM)

Jungkook whips his head to the calendar by his desk. It’s Tuesday, that’s strange-

Sarang: You know, you always text with “ahahahha” like an awkward teenage boy (3:32 PM)

Jungkook: Maybe I am (3:32 PM)

Jungkook: ahhahaahah (3:32 PM)

The man’s attention diverts to the sound of the chimes by the shop’s door.

“Welcome –“

“Hi,” Sarang smiles. “I got some muffins for an awkward “teenage boy”.

But there are also times when they’ll send each other signals that cross whichever boundaries set by social convention. Maybe it’s just him, Jungkook doesn’t really know.

Jungkook: I always have fun when I talk with you (10:30 PM)

Sarang: Me too. I have never experienced talking with someone for hours until now :D (10:31 PM)

Jungkook brings down his phone to look across Sarang’s balcony. Another Wednesday night granted him a soft glow in the room, a smile spreading on his face as warmth envelops his chest.

“Yeah, me too.”

Never has Jungkook been more curious of Sarang’s strange lifestyle when the following Friday night came. It was around nine thirty when the laundromat owner closed the shop and stayed inside to do accounting works when a set of three knocks on his glass door broke his focus on his tax returns.

Jungkook stands up from his desk to walk towards the door, familiarity sinking in along with surprise when he finally makes out the face of his late night visitor.

“Sarang?” the man immediately opens the door to let her in. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

The girl removes her denim jacket, her slim form accentuated in a fit white tee and tight jeans. “Are you not expecting any visitors?” Her amused voice sounds foreign to his ears, already bringing his attention back to her from his dazed state.

“Ah, actually no. My patrons know I close around this time on Fridays. I was just… surprised. Yeah…” and this might be quite an understatement. He never expected to see her at all tonight with her clad in something so flattering to her proportions, too foreign from the comfort of her sweater and jeans ensemble. Maybe he wasn’t just used to it, anyways at least he got to see her again.

“So what brings you here?” Jungkook asks as he sets down a cup of green tea on his desk, smiling at the girl who’s seated across him.

She adjusts her seat on the extra stool the man brought out before saying her thank you. “I- I was just done with my work and I just saw the light is still on in the shop so…”

“It’s alright, I was just curious,” Jungkook dismisses, sitting himself back in his chair surrounded with papers and cash invoices. “Though I’m gonna be busy for a while, gotta do some paperwork.”

“That would be alright,” Sarang smiles.

The following minutes passed with the scratches of ink on paper and soft chuckles. Sarang decided to help him with his purchases “so you can finish faster, plus this is also what I work with so it’s fun.” Jungkook can’t help but sneak few glances at the girl, with her eyes focused on the numbers, fingers swiftly pressing on the calculator, and her lips painted so red he just noticed now. The surprise of her sudden visit still doesn’t wear off when he can’t still believe the girl who spends her nights away from her home is just here right across him now. He could just reach out and grab her hand and ask her if she feels the same way about him as he does about her because he’s confused if the attraction he feels, sees even, is just conjured by his inexperienced mind. He turns back to the computation he’s doing. It’s too soon for that anyway.

“Is it your dream to manage your family business?”

“Huh?” He felt his mind halt as all thought still around him.

Sarang clears her throat as she puts her pen down, account of his purchases already done. “Has it always been your dream to do the laundromat business?”

He clears his throat. He never told anyone about this nor deemed this topic worth talking about because of the uncertainties that plagued however he can’t fathom the unusual feeling his chest - so light as if he was floating. “Actually, no... It was my childhood dream though.” Jungkook leans back, papers already stacked neatly. “When I was in kindergarten, my teacher asked us to draw our dream and I drew the whole shop with our patrons and me sat on the desk. While growing up, I learned I really liked math and drawing so I became an architect. It didn’t occur to me it as my dream though.”

“Then what is it?”

Jungkook halfheartedly smiles, “I’m still not quite sure yet, but I do know I’m content with what I have now.” He feels he’ll turn the atmosphere somber now if he speaks of what happened years ago so he just pulls his smile a little wider for her, however he also can’t decipher what the girl’s tight smile means.

Jungkook doesn’t know what goes on in Sarang’s mind and he wishes to know what causes the unfamiliar look in her eyes, just like now, someday. He hopes to know why she’s never at home on some nights, what she does on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. When he thinks of it, sometimes he feels he knows her, has the little things about her mapped out on his palm for him to always remember, and there are some times, like now, when the people you seem to know can be strangers too in mere minutes. He thinks he may seem like a stranger earlier if he divulged the misery and pain he felt when he went to the city that made him realize dreams are not just labels. They can become strangers they can be familiar with when they’re both ready. Comfort with oneself can wait, he’ll settle with the comfort offered by familiarity so tonight he’ll be someone who’s familiar to her image of him – a 25 year old inexperienced in dating, awkward “teenage” boy who likes to talk about good old days.

“How about you? Have you dreamt of being an accountant since you were a child?

“ No… I don’t know.”

“Hmm?”

“I really don’t know what my dream is. I just know that I like doing this kind of paperworks. But it’s not enough for me to be called as a dream.”

“You’ll find it eventually. Everyone has one.”

Jungkook looks down to his stack of papers, stooping down to put them in the cabinet of his desk. “How about painting?”

“W-what?”

“Painting,” Jungkook says louder as he stands up to meet her hazy gaze. “You really like coloring mandelas and they look really wonderful, too.”

Sarang rubs her shoulder, “It’s just – just a hobby I had when I was in middle school – I don’t think-“

“You should try though. Start coloring your own life; you’ve already colored enough of the black and whites of others.”

Somehow, the following minutes, hours until they closed the shop together around eleven thirty, Jungkook manages to see her warm hazel eyes again.

Their weighty conversation about dreams and warmth became the catalyst for Sarang’s visits on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday nights right before Jungkook closes the shop, as if her laundry visits in the morning were not yet enough. Jungkook could already feel the supplementary lines closing on in 95 and 85 degrees angles, an almost equal split and he’s never felt such excitement run its course down his bones.

On some Sunday night, they talked about Sarang’s high school memories.

“My mom skyped me yesterday by the way, she said she sent me my high school graduation pictures I left when I was packing. I just received them this morning,” she hands him a 2x2 photo.

“Wow, you look the same back then. You’re really pretty-“ Jungkook snaps his head to her, his hand on his mop stilling as he balks.

“Really?” Her grin spreads faster than the heat rising above the man’s cheeks.

“I mean- yes you’re pretty –“

“Thanks for the compliment! I’m gonna give you that photo as a thank you.”

It’s actually too much for a gratitude but anyway, he’ll take what he can get and Jungkook turns and tucks it in his wallet when she was busy wiping the glass door.

One Monday night was quite romantic when they both decided to cook carbonara for their late dinner in the kitchen at the back of the laundromat. She was actually surprised when he mentioned there’s a small kitchen in the shop so he explained his Grandpa extended the back of the shop to accommodate his Grandma’s fondness for cooking while managing the shop.

“You sure like pasta, hmm?” Sarang gives him a teasing smile as she stirs the cream.

“Yeah, but I, for the life of me, cannot cook my own favorite dish,” Jungkook snickered, heart swelling as he watched the girl prance around, pink apron his mother used to wear now neatly tight around her waist.

“It’s okay. I’m gonna cook for you instead.”

True to her word, Jungkook finds a familiar plastic food container on his doorstep the following week with a pink post it note saying “This is tuna carbonara, a specialty from my mom. Hope you like it ;)“

And last Wednesday night was when he realized his New Year actually happened. It was the best night he ever had since years.

“No Sarang, I’m going to ruin what you drew.”

“You know that’s not true; just paint and go; you had rainbow wings, remember?” Sarang smiles as he grabs his hand, and gives him a paintbrush.

It’s been years since Jungkook held anything that is related with art tools, anything that created lines and forms used to make him sick. However, none of that was present now, his chest unusually feeling light at the thought. He looks up towards the girl as she lays out two A4 papers with her hand drawn mandelas, her eyes glimmering with a shine he never saw before they started to talk, even before she was just silently coloring away in her own little world.

He sits himself beside her and grabs the first pigment that catches his eyes – lime green – youth, new beginnings, then cherry red – candy pops, sweet pomegranates he loved to eat in summer, and yellow, bright yellow – sunflower fields, summer, joy. After years of wrapping his heart with regret, disappointment, and hatred, he thought he would never feel happy again. But now – now he was actually happy, unadulterated joy that is so childlike he feels his chest is going to combust. He remembers all that he loves with the colors he chose - his family, friends, the life here in his neighborhood, the warmth he was showered with ever since he was born. It was time to let go, he realizes, now that he started to love again the warmth in this life he chose, now that his new year have already happened.

“I know my dream now,” Jungkook mutters as he stops his strokes and turns to face Sarang. “My dream is to live in a nice neighborhood filled with warmth. Sounds cheesy I know.” He giggles.

“No continue on,” Sarang prods him.

“Back then I thought dreams are supposed to be what you want to be, what job you want to have. We’re kinda systemized to think that our jobs define us anyway. After a series of success, disappointments later, I finally realized that dreams can be where you want to be, what your soul wants to experience, not just some title to add to your identity. When I went back to my hometown, here, it really felt a dream. You can’t be always happy with your dream though since happiness heavily relies on your state of mind but if it’s your dream, you have to feel content with it. Happiness can be found in contentedness anyway.”

Silence follows when Jungkook stops. He searches her eyes as he gulps his nervousness. He never bared this side of him to anyone yet.

“That’s wonderful, Jungkook” Sarang smiles so wide, cherry red lips matching the color he loved on the geometric design she drew, red, bright red- adoration. Time seems to have stilled in the chilly evening as Jungkook keeps his eyes on her, the tingling feeling blooming in his chest, bursting into fireworks, filling his heart with colors and sparks he never seen before, colors he deemed will never come to his life. And he feels the same sparks swimming in her eyes as he leans forward and places his lips against hers, uncertainties fading into nonexistence as he tastes the sweetness of youth and the thrill of new years on her soft lips.

“Wait, what, you kissed her?”

“Uh… yeah,” Jungkook shies away from the florist’s scrutinizing gaze. He trains his eyes instead on the Polaroid of their friends, sipping the tea his friend prepared when he suddenly visited without premise on a Tuesday night.

“Wow,” Jimin leans back in his chair, carding his hands through his hair, “I never thought you were this impulsive.”

“I don’t even know if that’s an actual kiss!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I just placed my lips on hers and that’s that; I didn’t even move ‘cause I’m really nervous but when I pulled away she was smiling at me and I think it’s okay but I-,” Jungkook stops as he slumps forward, “I really don’t know how she feels. I’m sure I like her, really like her, and I really like the kiss and then the next day she just smiled at me and acted like we usually do.”

“So, you just… go back to just being friends?”

“Somehow.”

“You know you’re treading in dangerous waters, now, right? Friends don’t treat each other like that; you’ve been prancing around each other and acting as lovers already. You have to clarify what you feel already or you’re just going to blur the lines further and cause more confusion on both of you.”

“But I don’t wanna scare her, hyung.” Jungkook bites his lips. He keeps thinking what he has now with Sarang is enough but he knows he is fooling himself because he knows he wants more, especially when he felt his feet running on soft grass and experiencing new horizons when he’s with her. “Also, I don’t even know what she does at nights and on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays - she’s rarely at home at all.”

“You still haven’t figured that out?” Jimin’s tone bounds on a wary one and it makes Jungkook more anxious.

“No… she pretty divulged everything from her childhood, school life, and even her work and when I look at her, it seems I know everything about her but at the same time nothing about her.”

“Okay, I know you usually dismiss me when I tell you ‘speculations’ of housewives around here and I think Sarang’s a pretty good girl. But I won’t deny I actually saw her earlier with a man-“

“But maybe it’s just because of her work. You know she does accounting for business people!” Jungkook finds it ridiculous. No one knows Sarang like he does. He’s the only one she’s close with around her, she said so herself.

“Alright, alright,” Jimin pats the younger’s forearms, placating the situation. “I’m just telling you what I saw, no need to be too defensive.”

Jungkook knows Jimin was just looking out for him; he was just somewhat disappointed how the florist can think of Sarang like that when he barely knew her. How can he think of her like that?

Jimin decides to go back to the initial purpose of their conversation. “Okay Kook, if you want to know more about her, go ahead. Ask her directly. Tell your feelings directly. You’ll never go anywhere unless you actually face the path you want to take.” Jimin takes in a breath before continuing. “It may… It may actually help if you tell her what happened to the engineering company you worked in. You already encouraged her to open up good memories with you when you started talking about yours. Maybe… maybe if you talked about more personal, things you want to hide, maybe she can tell you about hers too. Maybe she’s just like you, keeping personal stuff away and safe from anyone’s scrutiny. And if you started talking about yours, you’ll send her the message you’re serious with her and want to get to know her sincerely with hopes she’ll return the same feelings as yours.”

“Thanks, Jimin. Actually,” Jungkook looks at him, “I now got over that problem of mine. I actually felt I already set myself free from the past two years I drowned myself in endless self-pity and hatred. I actually feel happy now.” Jungkook smiles, the curve almost reaching his eyes, and he’s never been more proud of himself until now.

“Re-really? That’s great!” Jimin exclaims, arms grabbing the laundromat owner to hug him. Jungkook almost tears up, he can’t believe he’ll be able to actually say that himself now. “I’m happy, I’m actually happy again, mom, dad, Junghyun hyung.’” He can’t believe this was his new year at all – he thought it was meeting Sarang but he never thought accepting himself will be his new year, his new beginning. His days with Sarang made him relive his days; his memories that made him remember his dream, his happiness. And he felt Jimin now understand fully what Sarang meant to him when he pull away, eyes glassy reflecting his as he says, “I’m really glad, Jungkook, I’m proud of you. I hope things will go well with Sarang.”

Jungkook dwells longer in Jimin’s home, relishing in the positivity that filled the florist’s unit, washing away any tension that occurred earlier. Around eleven thirty, when Jungkook was putting on his shoes by the florist’s doorstep, he decides he’ll tell Sarang what he really feels for her tomorrow. He cannot wait anymore; he’s ready to finally tell her more of himself tomorrow, the things he was proud of and the things he was not. He trusts her enough to give her his heart, as a whole now.

“That’s good. I’ll cheer for you, Kook. Oh by the way,” Jimin stops him in the hallway, “go ask her also to be your date in Seokjin’s wedding. July 21st is already around the corner.”

“I will do that hyung – wait what month is it now?”

“It’s almost halfway of June, kiddo. June 13 to be exact.” Two months have already passed and summer has already started. Jungkook lets out an amused laugh; it always felt it was spring whenever he’s with Sarang.

Jungkook smiles as he waves goodbye, “I almost forgot Seokjin hyung’s wedding is in July.”

When tomorrow came, Jungkook postponed business so he can drop by around eight thirty at Saemi’s Bookstore, a shop owned by Mrs. Jinhee Park’s daughter, just a street away from Jeon’s Laundromat. It was the bookstore where he usually bought his art supplies back in high school, instead today, he’s not gonna buy something for himself. With the bills he saved in a piggy bank he never thought he owned, he purchased two sets of artist grade watercolors, a set of brushes, and one ream of A4 papers because a canvas and easel was not in the inventory of the bookstore. Once he goes to the city, he will promise Sarang he’ll buy her one.

By nine o’clock, he was already going up the stairs of Ahjummah Bongcha’s apartment complex when his arrival was met with a swing of the door and spring entering his line of vision clad in a cerulean sweater, basket of laundry in hands. Except today, spring is not in his shop but in the shell of her home.

“Hi,” Jungkook smiles sheepishly.

“Ju-Jungkook-“ her surprise was still written on her face when Jungkook gently pulls her toward back into the warmth of her home.

When he sets down his huge paper bags on her coffee table, he wipes his clammy hands on his jeans as he looks at her surprised form, confusion still written on her expression.

“Good morning,” Jungkook adds a wave because he doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Don’t you think you should have said that before barging in my room?” Sarang says with a teasing shine in her eyes, but the man could not focus on anything but the way her cheeks are colored in cherry. He hopes it’s because of him.

“So what’s that?”

“I – I actually bought something for you. Since I don’t know what type of flowers you like, I figured I’d bring you something you like instead, so here,” he opens the paper bag and shows her the sets of watercolors he got for her, “They may not be roses but they are also filled with colors and I hope you like them.”

“Jungkook they’re wonderful.” He looks at Sarang’s eyes to find them so glassy and it is until she closes up to him that he open his arms to accept her form hugging him. “Thank you – Thank you so much,” she sniffles. The man immediately pries himself away to look at her eyes, wiping her tears.

“Why-Why are you crying?”

She turns away, “No it-s just-it’s just no one has done something like this for me. A-and-”

Jungkook makes her turn back to him, “and what?”

“No one really acknowledged my dream, e-even my mom. They sa-said it was just a po-pointless hobby and I’ll never earn anything from it. I usually referred to it as just a ho-hobby but then when you said I have to start coloring my own life and then this-” she stops to look at the watercolors and then at the brushes peeking in the other paperbag. She chokes on a sob again. “I-I never even got the opportunity to buy one for myself and then here you come taking with you all the stuff I ever wanted and needed,” she pauses, “metaphorically and literally and I know I’m blabbering too much but thi-this is all too much. I-I cannot say anything other than than-thank you so-so much. Thank you so much Jungkook.”

And as her sobs die down her body, Jungkook hugging her and carding through her hair after finding out it calms her down, he finally learns a lot of things he was dying to know. She mumbles she spends her Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays to go to the city to finish all the accounting jobs she does for businessmen in the surplus.

“I’m so sick of it but I cannot stop doing them because I won’t be able to make as many money I need,” she leans closer to him, her cheek warm with tears pressed against Jungkook’s chest.

It doesn’t take a toll on her though, she adds, she’s already used to the underside of life. She’s been through horrible bosses before, and didn’t wish a repeat of her experiences that’s why she left the city and went to this province.

“All of them are horribe – a-all of them.”

Her painful experience in the working industry was not the entire reason she left home. Eyes red, she doesn’t stop crying. “I left be-because I was afraid my mom will disown me, I told her I will be successful and yet he-here I am - so – someone she could never be proud of. I love her so-so much and I’m afraid she can’t even stomach the sight-sight of me and I-“

“Sarang, you’re a wonderful daughter any mother could be proud of. She doesn’t need you to be successful or what. You’re already enough; you have dreams and you’re a good person. If you think no one could ever be proud of you - you’re wrong,” Jungkook pulls himself from her to look at her eyes reflecting nothing but him. “I’m proud of you and I’m really grateful life gave me the opportunity to meet you.”

And that’s enough for her to relax her rigid form, her arms wounding tighter around him as Jungkook sways them to the lull of his heartbeat to calm her down.

He’ll have to tell her his feelings some other day. Watching Sarang give him a piece of her without him initiating anything is enough for him. He’ll hold onto that piece dearly and when he manages to give her his broken pieces he left in the dead nebulas of his ceiling, he wishes she’ll hold onto them too.

Jungkook goes to the laundromat and flips the sign to “Come in, you’re welcome.” Sarang did not visit at night.

Sunday came along with the following weeks and Sarang’s late night visits stopped as her morning laundry duties dwindled into only an hour in the shop around Mondays and Fridays only. She brings A4 papers decorated in different hand drawn mandelas and the watercolor set Jungkook brought her, however Jungkook feels he’s back to square one. She talks like the usual but her clipped sentences, half hearted giggles, and unfamiliar eyes make him think she’s avoiding him. He doesn’t want to go back to what they were before, not when he finally saw her whole piece, not when he wants to take all his chances to tell her he loves her. But if this is what it makes for her to stay a little longer by his side, he’ll wait until she’s ready to share herself again to him.

Another week passes when he finally sees a chance to be honest with her.

It was three in the afternoon of a humid Wednesday when he heard whimpers and “Jungkook I-I don’t know what-what’s hap-happening” from a call and immediately, the man closed his shop and sped to the unit he spent his nights wondering.

“Sarang?” He walks in and finds her slumped by her laundry, tears mixing with the water that started to flood the small room, the water frosty as it reached his feet. He runs to the side and pushes the toppled washing machine upright again. “Shit, what happened?”

“I – I’m so-sorry! I was just wa-washing my-my clothes then the washing machine suddenly stops and so-something went wrong with the outlet a-and I panicked and sud-suddenly water started overflowing- I’m so-sorry I don’t know what – what to do anymore.”

“Shhh, don’t cry,” he stoops down to her and helps her up, “I’ll help you fix this, don’t cry anymore.”

After an hour into cleaning up the flood, and fixing the outlet with another faulty wire he hasn’t noticed that started the trouble, Jungkook sees Sarang by the lavatory of her bathroom, face devoid of tears and hands frantically washing tons of vibrant clothess Jungkook swears he’s never seen on her before.

“The washing machine is fixed already.”

She whips her head to him, hands stilling, “Oh-oh thank you, I’ll just finish this.“ She wipes her hands on her old jeans, “Sorry for inconveniencing you, I don’t know what got to me – you can go-“

“I’ll help you wash those.” Jungkook goes to her side before she can make another attempt to dismiss him.

Silence ensues but the sound of clothes crumpling and the foamy sound of the soap makes it somehow not quiet. The smudge on the fabric the man is holding won’t come off no matter how hard he tries.

“You do know you’re washing with hard water right?” Jungkook looks at her, hands already still by her side.

“What do you mean?” She turns to him, eyes already resembling tower high wall he knows he cannot break.

“Your clothes won’t come clean- the hard water will make the scum-“

“It’s fine, I didn’t ask for you to stay-“

Jungkook pulls her hands away from the soap, fingers shaky as he tries to keep her from looking away from him. “Why- why don’t you just come to the laundromat and do what you do like always? Why are you avoiding me?”

“I can’t face you.”

“What?”

“I really don’t know- I don’t wanna talk about this anymore-“

“Remember that day you asked me if I make blueprints for a company?”

His question makes her furrow her brows, eyes trying to get to his intentions. “Whe-where are you getting at?” Now they’re on the same page.

“I want to be honest with you, and I’m gonna tell you yes, I made blueprints for a company before.” And then he tells her the tale of a brave naïve boy who’s ambitious and thought the city was for him, an attainable paradise for anyone who wishes for more, more, and more. After graduating with high honors, he got easily accepted in one of the prestigious companies, CAE Systems, an engineering firm with skyrocketing gross income. But it will always be inevitable in every big and small organization to have a virus caused by one’s own greed and power and he learned that in his second year of working at that goddamned company.

“It was astounding what ends people could reach just to get what they want,” her hands still in his, he keeps his stare on her, a stranger in his eyes but felt like home when he felt the squeeze on his hands. He engulfs her in his embrace before he could feel himself shatter in front of her.

He learned what fraud was having dealt with projects guided by questionable demands from his superior; he learned what embezzlement was when he got close enough to the higher ups to know the appalling numbers on the management director’s bank account. Growing up in a home surrounded by warmth guided by straight morals, he thought he needed to straighten up the strings of a city as stone cold as ice bergs with moral compasses only pointed towards money and power. He idly thought he can end it.

“I was the reason the company was put into shambles, and it was both my pride and greatest curse.”

Backed up with an ambitious reporter, he felt like a hero when he handed him every bit of evidence he could get his hands on. The media feasted on CAE Systems, charges were made, and not before long the company was shut down. Jungkook felt he has never done anything in his life as good as this. He only realized he was no hero when he was told no company will ever accept a whistleblower. It was already late for him to learn that no one recognizes good in a place where good is conditional. Resumes were ignored and unpaid bills started to pile up when it finally sunk in he was in a hideous concrete jungle and he was a lion cub who dared to pounce on a cruel hunter.

“It was difficult to experience rejection upon rejection, but what’s worse was when I started to doubt the morals I upheld, when my mind thought it misplaced good for bad – it made me miserable and I thought I was going crazy.” He felt tears slide down his cheeks and he cried harder when Sarang wiped them away. “But that’s o-okay, I learned to not blame myself anymore and I started to become happy again here.”

“I- I don’t know what to-to say Jungkook, I’m really bad at comforting others; I-I don’t even know why you’re telling me this.”

“You’re already comforting me enough,” he pulls away, “I’ve been anticipating a new year would come and you helped me finally see one, feel those sparks I always longed to feel. I’ve seen you let out your fears to me and I want to not hide anything from you anymore - I really don’t know what we are anymore but that kiss really-“

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“What? Sa-Sarang, listen to me. I don’t know if this is lo-love but this is what I-I feel-

“I don’t believe in love, Jungkook.”

“What? N-no-“

“You should go, Jungkook.”

Jungkook heads home with a broken heart and a broken gaze and he opens the Bacardi rum he locked away in his dad’s liquor cabinet one year ago to stop his alcoholic tendencies. Liquor burns down his throat after he downs his first shot; he finds it useless to smother the pain that’s constricting his throat, filling his lungs with bitter thoughts that he never even had a chance to see his love bloom. It’s cruel he thinks, second shot already making its way down the hollows of his body, to feel this way and not be able to stop what he’s feeling. He thought he’ll never feel anything as abominable as the nothingness and frenzy of thoughts that cursed him for two years, but this - this is harder to accept because he became naïve again.

He wished he should have stopped being greedy, wanting things to advance when the girl he adores probably never even wanted to be by his side at all. Adults never give anything unconditional anyway – balance must be observed for the order of an ironically unfair world - maybe children do, that’s why he did what he did. On the side he wished he should have stayed longer and stood his ground when she drove him out of her house, out of her life more directly. Maybe he should have seen her weakening resolve, her eyes probably pleading for him to stay against her fears caused by self-indicted obstacles. But most of all, he wished he should have seen the signs before – Jimin’s speculations, Sarang’s sparsely decorated home, her unusual lifestyle, and the concerning amount of clothes she kept on washing and washing until they fade when he never even saw her wear them at least once.

Twelve shots downed, Jungkook feels maybe his mistake was not knowing enough of her, maybe if he did, he could have stopped himself from falling when she can’t even hold onto his broken pieces he trusted into her. With his room hazy around him, he grabs his phone and dials the number of the police station where a friend worked at.

“Hoseok-hyung,” Jungkook manages to not drawl on the phone, “Are you on duty now?”

“Yeah, Kook, what’s wrong?” Hoseok asks; his tone must have convinced the other he’s completely sober.

“Can you – uh – Can you look up ‘Kim Sarang’ from your records there?”

“Hmm… are you sure she’s from Gwangju? No name like that is listed here.”

“Uh- no- no, nevermind. Sorry for disturbing you.”

The line goes dead along with the leftovers of the New Year he had. It was beautiful when it lasted.

“You don’t look like you’re getting married Jin, at all,” Jung Hoseok starts, mischief in eyes as they walk down to a restaurant Min Yoongi booked. “You look like you’re getting your first lay around here.” Hoseok isn’t completely wrong when they receive a few lingering glances of other people. They can blame it to their model friend for his Adonis-like looks.

“Uhh, you do know that’s the purpose of a bachelor party right?” Kim Namjoon pipes in. “To celebrate the last days of single-ness if you are not informed, officer Hoseok.”

“Hey, I’m not on duty now!”

“But the badge hanging on your belt-loops says otherwise,” groom-to-be Seokjin says before Taehyung hooks him under the elbow and hops away, “We have to walk faster if we wanna go to other places you slowpokes!”

It was the 16th of July, peak temperature of summer at a raging 24 degrees Celsius but Jungkook didn’t mind since he had Jimin to fill in the silence for two hours as they travel from Busan to Seoul for the bachelor party organized by Gwangju officer Jung Hoseok and photographer Min Yoongi for their eldest friend, Kim Seokjin. He shouldn’t have put on his hoodie over his white tee but Jungkook reasons he cannot feel anything that summer inflicts.

Jungkook sips his water as he smiles along the ruckus made by his friends yet he can’t make his smile wider than he wanted to. Not when the first girl he ever adored did not show up in the laundromat for the rest of the weeks; not when he never saw her face around the neighborhood again even though Jimin informs him “I haven’t heard about anyone moving out yet so for sure she’s still here.” He suddenly hears the loud guffaw Hoseok makes when Jimin nudges his elbow.

“You alright, Kook?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook wishes.

Jimin looks around before leaning towards him. “Don’t think about her for now, let’s enjoy ourselves for Seokjin. Let loose, just for now.”

The past two hours whizzes by with laughter and stories of Seokjin’s scarce dating life before Hana, of Yoongi’s proposal to his long term girlfriend signaling another wedding to be anticipated, Hoseok’s recent promotion, Namjoon’s prospering business, and Taehyung’s everyday mishaps as a veterinarian. Jimin talks about Minyoung and the probability of them moving in before he pops the big question of marriage and Jungkook just tells them everyday is still the same in the shop though he finally got over the CAE incident and he sees his friends’ smiles become wider. After their hearty dinner, they pranced to the nearest arcade where Jungkook loses himself in the fun playing basketball and claw machines, especially when he crushed all of his friends in Dance Dance Revolution.

The night was getting deeper when Hoseok leads them to a bar he booked to have some alcohol to tone down the liveliness buzzing in their veins. It’s the last part of the bachelor party they planned so “Seokjin can waste himself for the last time with no regrets,” as the police officer said.

When they entered the bar with neon signs that spelled “St. Jude’s,” does Yoongi take a double take.

“Hoseok, you booked this bar? I told you to book a decent bar, not filled with strippers!”

“Shit, I booked Anne Marie’s wait-“

“Why did you lead us to St. Jude’s for God’s sake where is Anne Marie’s?”

“I did not see the sign sorry! Anne Marie’s-“

Jungkook can barely hear what they are talking about when he felt his eyes adjusting to the strobe lights and the pounding bass of the bar. However all of that stops when a slow song starts to play and a spotlight is centered to a girl on the stage wearing nothing but a pair of scarlet high heels.

Even if she changed her hair color, Jungkook won’t forget her hazel eyes and the soft curve of her thin lips.

“Jungkook, we’re going, what are you-“

Jungkook stands frozen as Sarang sways to the song, her hands gracefully reaching for the pole before she swings herself off the ground, pale naked body gliding on the metal pole before Jungkook quickly averts his gaze to the left side of the bar with the signboard “Final show: Eve!”. The audience on the tables starts to clap and howl like hyenas; he could already see some man go to what he assumes the manager and mouth “one lap dance” before motioning towards Eve. Jungkook feels nauseous. This is too much.

“Hyung I’m not gonna leave”

“Jungkook what-“ Before Taehyung could grab the hem of his hoodie, Jungkook runs up to the stage and grabs Sarang by the wrist. He could already feel Sarang trying to free herself from him but Jungkook only tightens his hold as he maneuvers around the people. Somebody is already shouting behind them and Jungkook fastens his pace as his eyes finally land on the fire exit sign. He pushes the door open into an alleyway and immediately takes off his hoodie, slips it on Sarang’s shivering body and then he’s grabbing her by the wrist again and hails a taxi, pushing Sarang inside before he gets in and tells the driver to get them anywhere away from the bar

Sarang refused to look at him, fixating her gaze on the window of the vehicle watching the city whizz by. Jungkook falls into silence, only watches the reflection of the mascara tears ruin her cheeks as sobs seize her body. He guessed he wasn’t wrong at all with the drastic 120 and 60 split of their supplementary lines. He was just entirely wrong to think her minimal hours in his life was acute when the entirety of her life was an entire obscurity for him. Jungkook looks away, not knowing what to say as the taxi speeds away in the blur of the hideous city.

Sarang remained silent as Jungkook stopped the taxi in front of some hotel until the moment the man let her inside a room he checked with an amount he can afford.

“What do you want, Jungkook?” she seethed, her voice sounding so hard and unfeeling.

“I don’t need you to explain or what I just want you to stay with me-“

“Bullshit, Jungkook! BULLSHIT!” She suddenly fumbles with his hoodie, hands immediately taking the clothing off of her. “I know men like you,” she spits, “All you want is fun, right? Well here it is!” she exclaims, grabbing his hand to place on her shoulders, “Touch me, savor the moment after the scene you caused earlier, you can have all of me right here, right now!”

Jungkook stoops down to pick his hoodie up to give it back to her. “Put this back on.”

Sarang slaps his hand off, dropping the fabric to the floor. “What are you doing?! Now’s your chance, get on with it! Or are you that type who wants me to strip first before you do your thing,” she leans toward him again, her face contorted in a twisted scowl. “Do you want me to bend over too, sir?”

“Is that what you really think of me, Sarang?” He keeps his gaze at her, the tears on his clouding his vision not enough to deter him. “Or should I call you something else since that name is probably forged?”

He knows he finally broke down the crumbling walls she kept holding when Sarang wails as she hugs herself, cries rocking her figure as she kept mumbling “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Her apologies and hoarse cries filled the midnight in a distorted lullaby Jungkook felt long ago but never knew enough as he shifts in the couch, limbs numb. He stares across the girl on the bed, her back facing him, but it doesn’t hinder him from hearing her soft voice breaking the silence.

“Why- Why did you do what you did earlier?”

“I don’t know- I tend to follow my feelings first before thinking about the consequences.”

“I don’t know why you’re doing this-“

“I love you”

“No, you don’t get to say that! It’s so unfair, you don’t-”

“Why?” Jungkook finds himself sitting up. “Why? Tell me why is it unfair because for the past weeks I’ve done nothing but reach out to you, give you my heart only to be shut down so many times and I still don’t know why I’m even trying. So tell me, why is this unfair.”

“You scare me, Jungkook. You scare me with the things you make me feel.” Her voice is barely above a whisper but he still hears it anyway.

In the morning, Jungkook wakes up with a heavy heart and a yellow paper with his name replacing the spot where Sarang laid.

He stands up, stuffs the paper addressed to him in his jeans pocket and sends his apologies to his friends immediately, especially to Seokjin. He leaves the hotel, leaves the city with the letter unread as he takes the earliest train back to Busan.

“July 16, 2012

Jungkook,

I’m sorry for all the things I have done, for all the things I’m about to do. I liked your stories, I do. They remind me of the warm town I was born in. But it also filled me with remorse.

You must have wondered at first why I do laundries abnormally frequent. I always wanted to wash away the dirt I’ve always felt. I grew up in a money hungry city which has never been touched by anything akin to love. I understood why at the age of 16 when I decided to let myself fall for someone as foolish as me. We left town and he led me to the city and introduced me to the land of dreams, of success, of everything men has ever wanted. But then I realized not everything is perfect; beauty blinds up the things we needed to see and he was the perfect example. He was lovely at first, until he started painting the mandelas I do on papers onto my skin. I never thought this same love will bring me my humiliation when he made a business out of me, my utter damnation when I realized there was no other way back.

I always got used to what the outcomes will be, the aftermaths of the things I have done. And then you came and I suddenly felt I was back to my youth again with nothing to worry, nothing to feel ashamed about. I started having dreams again. But I know this side of paradise will only crumble because I knew I have never been welcome to experience heaven as a luxury. So I never came back to your shop again these last weeks. I tried to wash my sweaters, the things I loved wearing whenever I’m with you. No matter how I tried to cut off everything related to you, I know I can never erase your scent from them; I can never erase you from the back of my mind.

I know my explanations are delayed and they may sound like excuses. I’m never fond of confronting you yet because I know I’ll only cry. Even if I’m a whore who probably knows the taste of every man who roamed this city, you’re the only one I kissed with my lips. I don’t know if this is love yet, and the mere thought of it scares me but when I saw you wanted to stay by my side even after all my dirt and grime must have repulsed you, I wanted to be selfish, I want to stay by your side too.

I left a lot of loose ties when I moved to Busan; I can't let these nightmares from here to the town. I need to sort them out first and I need to fix myself, too. I don’t know if you’ll wait for me, but I naively hope so. If you didn’t know yet, I slipped you letters on the pot beside your bicycle rack when I came from my work here. Even if you don’t believe them I hope you’ll read them. They’re the only things I’ve ever been completely honest about.

My real name is Kim Sarang, and meeting you was surely a blessing.”

Jungkook flips to the next letters.

“July 13, 2012

Jungkook,

I don’t think I’m even allowed to say I miss you after shutting you out and suddenly disappearing but your face is what I can only think about these days. I can't even write ‘dear’ to address you not after the things I have done. You make me feel things I don’t even deserve in the first place. I’m sorry, I really am. I thought about moving out because maybe you’ll never want to see me again but I’m sorry I can’t bring myself to actually do it. I can’t.

I’m frequently in Seoul now; I need to pay my debts as soon as I can, he already went to my home and I can't have him anywhere near you. My method might repulse you but I have no other way left. After I’m done, I’m cutting myself from this life for good. I’ll tell you the whole truth when I got back and finally fixed myself.

P.S. I finally understood what doing laundry with hard water does to your clothes. It ruins them and makes the dirt stick on the fabric. I’m washing with soft water now. Hope this lightens up the mood of my horible life.

- Sarang”

“June 14, 2012

Dear Jungkook,

The watercolors are fantastic! They were so so pigmented and I've never seen such brush shapes and sizes! It's summer and I can't believe it felt like it's my first Christmas. The last time I had Christmas was when I was 14.

I think my thank you's are not enough to let you feel my gratitude.

-Sarang"

"June 2, 2012

Dear Jungkook,

I'm not an accountant. I've never even been in college. My mother was an accountant and I used to help her when I was young that's why I know some things. I've made decisions I will always regret that I can't even ask why my life turned out to be like this. I work in St. Jude's every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday and it was horrible, disgusting, and pathetic. I abhor how it's name perfectly suits a filth like me, a very impossible cause. I feel more miserable when I can't even tell you that personally after all your honesty. I don't want to witness the repulsion that will cross your face. But I don't know what to do; I've got no diplomas that can enable me to have a respectable work and I've got huge debts I have to pay just so I can have at least a fraction of a normal life here in Busan. They say the past will always catch up to you and it's fucking true

I actually planned to end everything yesterday night. And then I remembered you and I know I can't just go without having one last moment with you. I never imagined that night would be a miracle. You told me I can find my dream and it was the nicest thing I've ever heard; after years of begging for someone to say 'everything is gonna be alright' even though it's not, I finally heard it. It's enough for me. I'll keep on living and I promise you, someday I'll tell you everything.

-Sarang"

Jungkook unfolds more and more papers, and he finds numerous post it notes and her watercolor drawings. There's a painting of his silhuoette by his desk.

"I always think you have a nice side profile."

He flips to the next and it's the replica of the interior of Jeon's Laundromat all in pastel with two silhouettes sitting in front of washing machine number - him and her.

"I'm sorry I always stay long here. Chatting with you here felt the closest to home."

But what makes him still is the last drawing in his hand. It's a portrait of him smiling, his eyes twinkling, and he looks so happy.

"You told me I had to color my life and I decided I'll do a portrait of someone and the first face that came to my mind was yours."

Summer melted and the crisp chilliness of autumn settled in when September peeked in but the chilliness was not enough to cool down the hyped conversation on the phone.

"Really?! Wow! Congratulations on the news Seokjin hyung!" Jimin turns to Jungkook, "Hana is pregnant!"

The younger grabs the phone. "Hyung, don't stress out Hana too much and I hope she's gonna be a girl so you get to beat the guys that will come close to her." Jungkook laughs, "I wanna see those long limbs put into use."

Jimin gets the phone back and updates Seokjin that Minyoung moved in with him recently, and Jungkook could hear the man's windwiper laugh from the other line.

The call ends with Seokjin telling them Yoongi's wedding will be on December and that he, Jimin, and Namjoon will be the ones in charge of the bachellor party.

When the call ended, Jungkook turns to Jimin while turning the stem of the Daffodil he was holding between his fingers. "Junghyun's gonna visit next week."

"Really? I'm gonna call Taehyung then so we can all hangout. He's on a break anyway for whatever reason he convinced his superiors."

"I'm not even surprised he can do that. Anyway he can finally have the drawing lessons he wants so bad," Jungkook snorts, "He said my skills are already rusty and I'm a bad teacher."

Before Jungkook leaves the shop, Jimin's voice stops him, "Still waiting for her?"

Jungkook's hold on the yellow bloom was firm. "Yes," He says and he exits the flower shop with a smile before he crosses the street and opens his laundromat.

Jungkook looks out from his glass door and watch the waking town in the early morning haze. Mrs. Taehee Jung is folding her laundry above Jimin’s flowershop. Convenient stores have now opened and Old Sangmin’s bakery is already filled with people. Kim’s Italian Restaurant is about to open like the usual. He waves to Mrs. Eunhui and towards Mr. Changmin Park who passes by. Everything is still the same, he sighs as he looks at the daffodils starting to bloom in the small potted garden he made with the help of Jimin and his chest warms at the sight.

He wakes up from his trance when Mrs. Eunji Song pulls the door open. He welcomes her in.

"It’s my first time seeing them," she points out.

Jungkook follows her line of sight and his eyes lands on the watercolor paintings gracing the walls of his once barren pale blue walls.

Jungkook replies, "Ah, I got them framed last week. I only got them today, Mrs. Song"

"It's a painting of your shop, and wait - is that you?"

Jungkook nods with a smile.

"The colors are wonderful, very lively, an exact replica of you these days" she looks back at him, amused and impressed. "See? It looks so the same! Who's the artist?"

Jungkook's smile stretches wider. "Kim Sarang."

The people around this Monday morning was sparse which allowed Jungkook to sketch the outlines of the shops thay line across his laundromat. His disposition was undisturbed until it was nine o'clock and the wind chimes resounded around the rather empty laundromat.

"Welcome-“

"Hi, Jungkook."

In the middle of autumn, it felt like spring again. Even if he has never seen her for so long, he'll recognize her warm hazel eyes and the timid curve of her lips. With cherry red sweater, blue cropped jeans and a her raven hair in a bob cut, Sarang looks at the artworks on the wall, her own paintings displayed with her name printed in small fonts on the paper.

She looks back at him, eyes glazed and her mouth agape.

Jungkook feels his heart thundering against his ribcage. "Yes, I waited for you." And even if she needs a year, he knows he will still wait.

Sarang leaves her sketchpad and her watercolor set he bought for her on the bench as she sped her way to him. Jungkook already stretches his limbs, welcoming her back in his arms, back in her home. Jungkook tightens his hold on her as he felt her tears wet his cardigan, strings of gratitude filling the rhythm of Jungkook's swaying.

"I've done a lot of thinking - and I know I've got better things to tell you, she mutters, "but the first thing I want to tell you is that I finally know what my dream is."

"What is it?"

"My dream," she looks up and Jungkook finds himself reflected in her eyes, "was to know how to love again, to feel new beginnings," and then he tastes them on the softness against his lips, the sweetness of youth and euphoric feeling of happiness. She moves against him with ardor, sparks flying and colors bursting behind closed eyes as Jungkook basks in the thrill and adrenaline of finally having everything back in his life. Sarang looks at him, with eyes reflecting him and him only as she says against his lips, "And I finally got them."

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