#ray route after ending

[yoosung-ah]

this you?

[natasha-in-space]

All Good Things Must End

Ray/gn!reader;

From the beginning, you trusted Ray with all your heart. He was the embodiment of your fairytale dream come to life. Your respite from all the unappealing troubles of the outside world. But all fairytales have an ending to them. And yours is not as happy as you expected.

CW: brief mention of violence, erratic behavior, depiction of a codependent relationship. This is a Danger Ray fic! Set during V's route. Loosely based on the 7th day outgoing call to V (11:51 AM, after the 'Provoke' chatroom).

Lovely dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

Ray was a good man. A kind man. A fragile man, even. His entire appearance would remind you of a beautiful but delicate flower. So starved for love and warmth, yet so sensitive to every harsh touch of the wind, even the slightest of pushes against its soft petals would make it start to wilt. A flower that needed nothing but some gentle care and love for it to come into bloom. And, of course, you were willing to give him just that. After all, why wouldn't you be? Ray has been nothing but kind and caring towards you, ever since you stepped foot into this strange place, guiding you along the way while holding your hand and not minding any of your clumsy mistakes. He was understanding. Attentive. Curious. Always checking in with you and eager to hear about your day. Never ignoring you or making you feel stupid if you didn't understand a thing or two.

No wonder you found it so easy to open up to him in your short time here. You trusted that he would do no wrong by you. Just as he promised.

At least... that's what you thought. And appearances can be deceiving. Oh, so very deceiving. Now, it felt downright humiliating just how much of a blind fool you really were. How stupidly determined you were to deny and rebuke anyone daring to challenge your views on Ray.

You loyally refused to trust Rika's musings about Ray's 'darkness' during your brief stay with her, dismissing them as nothing but her twisted philosophy that you couldn't even begin to comprehend. You impulsively denied V's numerous warnings not to trust in Ray's sugary words, reassuring yourself over and over again that surely his affections for you must be true and earnest. You turned your back on every nagging suspicion buzzing at the back of your mind during short moments of unrest. You knew in your heart that Ray was a kind, tender boy. He was simply confined to an environment that would exacerbate his worst traits.

And he was only human, right? No one is immune to harmful outside influences being forced down upon them. Anyone could end up in his place one day, even you. It was no reason for you to be hostile and distrustful of him.

Then again, maybe that was just your mind trying desperately to keep you calm in the midst of a horrible storm you found yourself being forcibly thrust into. After all, accepting just how truly bad and out of your control things truly were here... How utterly helpless and vulnerable you were, with no one there to come save you if you needed it... How trapped and isolated you were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but miles and miles of lush mountain forests, with no civilization in sight...

Just the thought of it would make a heavy lump of acidic bile rise up to your throat. The sad truth is... Ray simply provided you with feelings of solace and comfort that some deeper, weaker part of you was so desperate for. Losing that was something you were not ready to face yet. He was there by your side from day one. He had a better understanding of you than anyone else did. Of course you would cling to his familiar presence for this brief feeling of stability you yearned for so gravely.

In retrospect, it was always a losing battle for you to try and win. You could have done better. You really, really could have done so much better. Yet it still hit you harder than a sledgehammer to the back of your skull, when the bitter reality has finally reared its ugly head to you, without any regard for your fragile heart.

You resent yourself for hitting that call button despite your gut screaming at you not to. You were already well aware that you would regret doing that, somewhere on the back of your mind. But, in the moment, your worry for your friend overpowered your lingering anxiety. Maybe out of some sense of duty. V made it all the way here, just to save you. You played a big role in his capture, in a way. If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't be in danger. And not knowing a single thing about his whereabouts or even his state was... daunting.

So, you dialed his phone number.

You anticipated that he wouldn't pick up. Maybe you would receive a very brief phone call with him begging you to keep yourself safe, like he always would. Or even just a quick exchange of words between you two that would maybe give you even the tiniest of clues on his whereabouts. Something you could then relay to Seven. Make yourself useful. Actually do something, instead of just sitting there and driving yourself mad with dozens upon dozens of anxious thoughts clouding your mind.

What you received was worse than you could have ever imagined.

It was one thing to hear pained groans, gasps, and raspy coughing on the other end of the line. You already had an expectation that V would not be okay when you hear his voice. It still left your knees feeling weak and your heart lurching in your chest with a dizzying intensity, but you could handle that, to an extent. What you couldn't handle was also hearing a familiar soft-spoken voice that has become an unstated but undeniable source of comfort for you. A voice that was now sounding so cold and angry, that your brain had a hard time comprehending what was happening, seemingly shutting down completely, as you remained deathly quiet for the whole duration of that cursed call.

Ray just was not supposed to be there.

You have heard him get angry before. You have heard him lose his grip on reality before. You have heard him say things you couldn't truly agree with, despite you still going along with them regardless, to avoid causing him any disturbance. Those were all aspects of him you were not blind to. You just actively chose to overlook them whenever they would come up. Something that you probably shouldn't have done.

-But you never heard him be so downright cruel and vicious before. Seemingly not at all disturbed by the very real sounds of suffering from the other living person there with him. Even getting angrier at them.

Like it was something completely normal. Not at all worth getting upset or worried over.

You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that this was the same man that worried himself sick over you simply scraping a knee. He was so caring, so empathetic to you back then... over a small cut, of all things. And now, that very same man was not at all disturbed by such grave suffering happening right in front of him.

No, by the sounds of it... he was actively causing it.

And that's not something you could live in peace with.

The call lasted for a maximum of two minutes. That's the time that your phone would display to you whenever you mindlessly return to it, anyway. But it felt way longer than that. For those two horrible minutes, your ears were ruthlessly subjected to the merciless reality you were so desperate to avoid facing up until that very moment.

The bitter truth was that Ray is not a fragile flower. Nor is he a prince from a fairytale. For, fairytales are not reality. No matter how much you want them to be. He was a man, a human being, just like you. Just like every other person in this building. And much like any human being, he was more than capable of causing harm by his own two hands if he so chooses. In fact, he would do so purposefully. And a victim of his spiraling wrath was no longer some faceless unlucky believer that you could forget about in a matter of hours, despite you genuinely feeling bad for them. No, it was your friend. A friend who fought so desperately to save you, even at the cost of his own safety. A friend you have come to care for in the short time you have known each other.

A friend, you knew for sure didn't deserve to be suffering in the way that he was. By the hands of your other friend you cared for just as deeply.

Such reality was just too cruel for you to bear.

So, you do the most foolish thing of all.

You confront Ray head-on.

"-Y/N, you must be confused... I've done no wrong. I do admit that I... did loose myself for a moment there, but- but it was his own fault! If he just kept quiet and drank the elixir like my Savior has instructed, I wouldn't get so upset with him. And he kept saying his stupid lies... He wouldn't shut up. My head hurt so bad... You have no idea."

You are left feeling sick to your very core by the soft apologetic smile reflected on Ray's face, once you do have a chance to finally face him again. No matter what you say, how hard you try to show him how wrong and cruel his actions really were, it was all completely pointless. For someone so seemingly skittish and subservient, Ray was frustratingly stubborn in his beliefs. It was like throwing a tennis ball at a wall. The more force you put into your throw to get your point across, the harder it just bounces right back into your face, leaving you with the painful sting of your failure.

You shake your head, an ugly mess of emotions steadily clouding your sense of judgment. At some point, you lose track of your location and position. All caution goes out the window. All that remains is a debilitating feeling of betrayal, clutching at your insides like metal rods slowly puncturing your very heart. "It is still wrong, Ray! How can you not see that!? He was suffering, and you just- just-"

The words don't come out of your mouth, obstructed by the suffocating lump stuck in the middle of your throat. You were going in circles now. You have been trying to get through to him for almost ten minutes straight, and still no results. You have to take a moment to try and regain your breathing. A soft glowed hand rests gently upon your chin, causing you to tilt your head to meet Ray's gaze instead.

You are disgusted by the genuine concern etched onto his delicate features. By the unfeigned emotions of nothing but genuine care and affection swimming in his eyes as he looks at you. By the tender touch warming up your clammy skin. All of it is sincere. You know he is not lying to you. Not right now, at least. And that is a sickening realization to come to.

More than anything, you are disgusted by the simple fact that you cannot perceive him as a monster or an angel. Ray is no perfect prince from a fairytale, no matter how hard he may try and appear to you as such.

He's a human.

Just like you.

And this implies that he is capable of all the atrocities that any human being is capable of. As much as he is kind to you, he can also be cruel to others. As much as his hands soothe and tremble when they brush up against yours, they can also hurt and sully those he harbors hatred for. It's not all black and white, as you would like to delude yourself into thinking.

And his actions were truly appalling to you. You couldn't live in your fantasy world anymore. It was sullied. Destroyed beyond repair. Your Wonderland has been corrupted from the start, and you just denied each and every sign of it, until it was too late.

"My prince/ss... It pains me to see you in such distress. Though, your tender heart is another trait of you that I adore," Ray whispers to you softly, his thumb lightly brushing over your cheekbone. He was touching you so gently, it's almost like you were made out of glass. And yet, just a few hours earlier, these exact hands were causing so much suffering to someone you care so deeply about. The thought prompts you to swallow hard and clutch your hands together as they start to shake. He continues, seemingly undisturbed by your lack of a positive response. "-But believe me when I say that that villain is not deserving of your compassion. He tried to take you away from me... To ruin what you and I have built together. I cannot stand by and watch him do that to us. What if you got hurt because of him? I would never forgive myself, if that were to happen."

You shut your eyes, refusing to accept the reality unfolding before you. Everything was wrong. So very wrong. One part of you wanted to scream and shout at him, to make him see the twisted nature of his words by pure unrelenting force if you have to. But there was another part of you that contemplated just giving up and concluding this interaction altogether. The debilitating feeling of helplessness was just too much for you to handle.

You are not allowed to do either of those things, however. Instead, another hand lightly rests on the small of your back, pulling you in towards the source of your distress. And you don't fight it. You feel your forehead come in contact with Ray's chest, his flowery scent filling your senses, as both of his arms are now circling around you. You hear a happy sigh fall from his lips. It all seemed like a very cruel joke on you. A moment that seemed so sweet and touching, bringing you nothing but more hurt and anguish.

Did he really not see anything amiss with any of this?

"I missed you so much, my flower... You know, when I heard that liar try and talk to me like he knew you better than I do, I felt like I might just strangle him right then and there. Make sure he never utters your lovely name ever again." Ray's voice is slightly gruff from how quiet it is against the side of your head. A low hum vibrates in his throat as he nuzzles into your hair like an affectionate cat would, breathing in your scent with all the longing you could possibly ask for. Though, the only thing that comes from his affections is a sickening feeling of dread for you.

"-But I thought of you. I thought of your lovely smile... Your eyes, your voice. I know I shouldn't think like this, but... You gave me more strength than my Savior's words ever did. What I did... I did for you. For us, Y/N." He continues, taking a step back from the hug to look at you. Your gaze is cast low, as you don't reciprocate the gesture. You can't bring yourself to look at him right now. It's hard to even keep yourself from putting your hands over your ears to avoid hearing it all. He gently tilts your head up, however, making it clear that he wants you to look at him. "Please don't be upset... It breaks my heart to see you sad because of that villain."

That's when the dam inside of you finally shatters, all repressed emotions spilling out in a violent wave of hopelessness you cannot bring yourself to stop. You wrench yourself away from Ray's arms, your own hands now clenched into tight fists as you look him directly in the eyes. There's a fire burning ever hotter inside of your chest, and you make no attempt to put it out. You let it take over you completely, consequences be damned.

"Villain?Villain!? Ray, he did all he could to save me! And you locked him up and tortured him for that!"

Your mind is screaming at you to stop. To stop and fix things before they spiral too out of your control.

You're being too aggressive. Too blunt. Too disobedient. Staying safe requires you to be both calm and smart about this. And you are neither of those things right now.

But you don't care.

Even as you see the emotions in Ray's eyes shift from that suffocating affection to a mix of desperation and frustration you know well. He makes a step towards you. You make two steps back. This makes his brows furrow in what you could only assume was dissatisfaction.

You never backed away from him before.

"Save you...? No. No. Y/N, he tried to steal you from me. Poison you with his lies, like he has done to my Savior. He did it to me, too! I'm the one who saved you. I did what had to be done to protect you!" You can actively hear his voice changing from the shaky disbelief at your denial of him to rough desperation to prove you wrong. It's borderline scary how quick those changes are occurring right in front of your eyes. Almost in a blink of an eye. It's yet another blaring warning for you to stop.

One that you ignore.

Instead, your frustration boils up inside of you, making you sneer at his stubborn refusal to see reason: "By hurting him!? By making him choke and gag in pain? What was the point of-"

Your angry line of thought is instantaneously interrupted by a small yeep that slips past your lips, as Ray closes in on you in just a couple of quick steps, grabbing at your wrists with a tight grip. Tight enough to cause you some discomfort. His eyes are wide, and his breathing is noticeably shaky. Like he's fighting to get enough air into his lungs and failing miserably. He yanks you close, making you stumble into him without much time for you to struggle or push back against him. Mostly due to your state of pure disbelief. You never expected Ray to actually do anything to you. And while he wasn't actively hurting you, this was still shattering your perception of him to bits and pieces. Or, what remained of it.

"That was nothing, Y/N. He deserved all of that. He deserved that and more. You feel sad for him? You wish mercy on him?" You are suddenly pushed back against the wall, and Ray's slim form keeps you trapped in this makeshift cage you created for yourself with your reckless actions. Ray's voice grows shakier, yet also significantly lower. It sounded dangerous. Angry. His nose brushes up against yours, as he's leaning so close to you, you can't focus on anything but him. Your breath hitches as you instinctively press yourself up against the wall, the panicked pounding of your heart echoing in your temples. "You have no idea how badly he hurt me. What pain I went through because of that- that-"

You can't help but wince in pain as his grip on you tightens. An action that seems to immediately shake Ray out of his temporary fit of anger, as he gasps and quickly lets go of you, stumbling backwards with a frightened expression painted over his features. You don't even have to look at him to know that he is probably in a less than stable state of mind. You are left staggered, betrayed and confused, as you stand there, eyes cast low, rubbing at your wrists. They didn't hurt. Not much, at least. It's the psychological aspect of it that left an impact of you.

Ray's voice feels muffled as it reaches your ears through the constant flow of thought in your head.

"I- N-No, Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't want to- Are you hurt?" You can see him taking a step back towards you, hand reaching out for yours, probably to check on your wrists. You can tell he's scared. And upset. Probably guilty. Which makes this even harder for you to grapple with.

Either way, you cut him off, not wanting to hear any more of this. Partially because you understand that staying to listen will only cause you to break further, if it was even possible at this point. Because he sounds so genuine, nervous, and miserable, it makes your heart ache for him despite yourself. Makes you want to look up, smile, and say that you're okay. That you two can figure it out together.

And you don't want to repeat the same mistake twice.

"Just... Leave, Ray." You mutter out quietly, not raising your eyes at him. You sound a bit too soft for your liking, but it'll do. Swallowing, you repeat yourself for good measure. "Please. Leave."

There is a prolonged pause between the two of you. It's almost too lengthy for comfort. Neither of you say anything for a while. But the tension in the air is thick, and it does not fade with time. It only grows. Crawling over you like snakes. There is a fear within you that prevents you from looking at him. A fear of seeing the pain in his eyes. Or, instead, to come face to face with that same anger that felt so alien to you.

Ray finally speaks up. His voice is barely audible.

"...N-No..."

He moves closer to you still. For the second time today, you are finding yourself backing away. But now, you turn your back on him and keep your hands locked where you can see them. You can feel them shaking. With a sigh, you repeat: "Leave."

And, as you soon learn, that was not a very wise choice for you to make.

You're quickly spun around before you can think to act, and Ray's fingers are digging into your shoulders with a disturbing intensity, leaving you little time to react. He's observing you as if you were a wounded animal that was left behind after being hit by a car. Like you're the saddest creature he had ever seen. And, for some reason, that look scares you more than the previous anger he showed you.

"I can't believe this..." He murmurs under his breath, his eyes darting over your figure, almost like he was searching for something physical on you that could be visible to the human eye. But he doesn't find it, and that seems to upset him further. You try to pull away from him, only to get jerked back in again, his hold on you tightening.

Only this time, he does not pay any attention to your visible discomfort. He was too occupied with his own thoughts that you were not aware of. It's like he doesn't even see you. Not fully, anyways.

He holds your chin and tilts your face to examine you more closely. As he does, his shaky breath sneaks over your cheek and causes you to shiver in place.

"He... He poisoned you, didn't he...?"

The hushed murmur sounds so utterly ridiculous that it almost makes you forget about the disturbing nature of this situation for a good moment. Yet, he was completely serious. And he wasn't even talking to you, by the looks of it.

"What? Ray, I-"

"-That's why you are saying all these things to me... That's why you don't trust me anymore." Ray cuts you off as if you were not there, his brows furrowing into a deep scowl, but not one aimed directly at you. One of his hands grips onto your chin, while the other finds your hand and takes it into his own, his fingers sliding between yours. He grasps it tight, in a hold that would feel reassuring, if it wasn't for the circumstances. "My Y/N wouldn't tell me to leave. I should've guessed..."

A shiver of fear runs down your spine. As your outburst of frustration subsides, you slowly start to realize the seriousness of this situation for you, as the fire of anger and betrayal subsides. Now you wish Ray was angry again. At least then he still listened to you. But how can you fix things when he doesn't even acknowledge you?

"-Don't worry," You are brought back to reality by a warm and assuring smile on Ray's face. One that only makes you feel nauseous. He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, making your breath hitch. Staying there, he whispers onto your skin, like a secret promise only for your ears to hear. "I will fix it, my prince/ss. I shouldn't have been away from you for this long in the first place... My Savior is far too busy to give you the care and attention you need. But now, I'm here. And I'm not leaving your side again. I promise. I'll make sure you are smiling again."

He does not let go of you again. While your fairytale might have been broken, his has only begun its story. And his happily ever after is not something he will give up on. Even if you did.

[estherchoiart]

The last month of summer, with this heat, you just want to cool off. (｡•́︿•̀｡)

In my mind I imagined Saeran coming up to me and saying:

Do you want an ice cream my love? ♡

It was so beautiful, I needed to draw it, before I finished this season. ૮꒰ྀིʃƪ´˘`〃꒱ა

Saeran in his new summer cover is being idol, I will support him as the best fan I can be. ୧(⑅˃ᗜ˂⑅)୨

I really liked the details like his mint nails. I'm so grateful to be able to see him again. 🩷

Even if it's in my imagination, he lives in my heart. (❁´◡`❁)

Ｉ Lᵒᵛᵉᵧₒᵤ♡

[k4txlulzz]

[not a ship post.]

mystic messenger 707 after ending secret endings are better than whatever happens with the twins in another story . saeran is allowed to be human and not a perfect little baby boy who is hyper-dependent on mc(the girl who he met a few days ago) . he gets rehabilitated by his twin brother who is the one person who has and will always understand him most(they are a lot more similar and mirror each other more than some ppl think). people say this saeran doesn't have enough agency but truth is he was not in the right state to make decisions and in ray's route and after ending it's just mc doing it instead of saeyoung anyway. again, saeyoung is the person who knows whats best for him, not mc. additionally, seven goes through exact same mental struggles as his brother(example: suicidal tendencies + inferiority and guilt complexes) and its BECAUSE of the fact that he overcame them that he can reassure his brother properly. furthermore, saeran mirrors his twin's way of thinking when he basically asks himself "do i deserve this good ending?"

this route also has the most correct characterization of seven that, unlike another story stuff(ray AE especially lol), does not paint saeyoung as the aggressive bad boy twin . that whole thing with him being feral when it comes to protecting his brother and standing up to the agency + his dad + v is something i do love but it is, again, used to make him "the angry troublemaker one" . he gets tortured for two weeks straight for god's sake and saeran not only isnt allowed to have a proper reaction to it but sae just quickly recovers like nothing AND is "not nice" for not forgiving the dude who just did all that to him, apparently😭to give cheritz the benefit of the doubt, this maybe could be chalked up to seven thinking lowly of himself again but that's debatable

secret ending choi twins>>>>>>>>>

even though i love them being sweet in another story and i still think it is a very happy ending for twins, it isn't the right characterization

[marshmallowprotection]

If an MC did V's route but platonically, do you think (in theory) we would still able to pursue Ray romantically?

I mean..;;; I know I'm not the only one whose heart was utterly SHATTERED at the 'end' of Mint Eye, to put it lightly;; 😭😭😭😭

What would happen once we realised RAY WAS CAUGHT WITHIN IT????

Would we be able to see him again?? How would we reunite?? Would we be able to??

Would he want to be with us again if he learned that he was the one we truly loved, not V? Would he believe it? And actually;;; would he still love us like he did before, despite everything? 😭

I would burst into tears at the sight of his burns. I would want to run to him and hug him and nurse his scars from any stinging or pain that might still flare up every now and again

I'd cry so hard at it all ;; 😭

I want him to feel safe and secure and loved, because I love him, and I want him to know that I'll love him no matter what - and that I never stopped, despite, the uh. V route. IT WAS NEVER WHAT WHAT YOU THOUGHT, RAY.!!!! 😭😭😭

IT WAS ALWAYS YOU 😭😭

I mean, I do think it's possible to play it that way because it's up to you to decide how you imagine your fantasy scenario. You don't have to follow the games canon to make yourself a happy ending. You can make up anything you want once the curtain's closed, and you know, even before that, you can diverge away from it and explore new and exciting possibilities! 

If you want to view V as a friend and aim to love Ray in V's timeline, there is nothing holding you back from doing so!

I think the most important thing to understand is that you are his first love, and his last love. He can't imagine falling in love with anyone ever again, because you are the one who defined what the world could be like if he believed in something stronger than the torture that was forced into him. You helped him see that there could have been more, but when everybody abandoned him, he felt like there was no chance for him to ever see those days.

Now, the way I like to play this situation out if you romance him instead, is to go with the angle of Saeyoung taking you out of Mint Eye despite your protests to save Ray. 

Because, I do think if you tried to tell them that you wanted to find Ray, they wouldn't let you do it at the time. You made a promise to V that you wouldn't say anything about the fact that the hacker is Seven’s brother, too. So, you are constantly at odds with yourself to reveal the truth to save Ray, and trying to hold yourself together for the sake of everyone around you because you need to be strong for your friends.

I think even if you were able to tell Ray that you wanted to come back for him and you never wanted to leave him, he would still fear that he wasn’t good enough. He won't blame or be upset with you for it. He never is, because he always blame himself when he doesn't think he's good enough. 

He thinks that there was always something more he could do to make it better, even if there was nothing he could do with the hand he’d been dealt. Even if you fought tooth and nail to get back to him, you wouldn’t make it in time. But, make no mistake, you will remain in his heart forever, and he will not be able to go a day without thinking of you and the light you inspired in him. 

But, you're right to be wary of what will happen when the day of the reunion comes. It probably would have taken him that long to not only grow accustomed to the fact that he would have to see his brother again, but the fact that he would have to face you after putting you in a situation where you believed him to be dead.

He would feel so much guilt and shame overdoing that to you. He made you listen to what he assumed might be his last moments, and even if you promised to be there for him because you cared about him, it doesn't change the fact his doing so put you in a precarious situation of pain.

There's a lot you would need to talk about during that reunion, but his biggest fear would be that you would turn him away, not just because of the scars, but because he hurt you in an unimaginable way. 

He would be beside himself if he thought you were dead for that long only to realize that you were safe and sound. He knows he's not entitled to have an opportunity to come back into your life, but if you throw your arms around him the minute you see him that day, he will cry like a baby, and think whatever God that is out there for giving him the opportunity to feel your arms around him once more. 

[spagh3ttii]

SAERAN AAAAAAAHHHHH💕💕💕💕💕💕💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[httyddragonfox]

Ray/Saeran's regard towards MC

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Now we should look at Ray's route, this also goes into the after ending a little bit, but it's mainly repeating what we've seen before, so I won't go into it that much.

The first real difference is during the branch, Ray remembers how unpleasant the elixir was to take and realizes that he doesn't want you to endure that. Why does this happen? Ray loves you in the other route as well. In this route, you've shown more signs of wanting to stay with him despite the lack of elixir, this wasn't as present in V's route which is why he took drastic measures. Ray realizes he doesn't need to brainwash you if you're going to be with him anyway, in the V route he probably knew deep down that you wanted to leave. So Ray tells you himself that he was lying to you over the past few days and that the RFA are in fact real. You're not as upset with him in this version, probably because he's choosing to be honest with you now and no real damage was done. Of course V shows up, and Ray freaks out, thinking he's a threat to us. V changes his tune and decides to try to save Saeran in this route, mainly because we're in no immediate danger. The real turning point is that Ray decided not to drug us.

Instead of the savior supporting Ray's efforts against V, like in the last route, instead she berates him for letting this happen. Probably because in the last route he took more affirmative action against V when he showed up, and here he just froze. She gives him much more elixir than before, and he continues to berate himself, thinking he's not good enough. That's including us; the savior officially welcomed us, giving us a card to access the facilities and walk freely. She also seems to be thinking about giving us a more important position once we're done with the party. Ray actually sees us less, only really coming to see us to give us some fake elixir in case we're forced to drink it. The thing is, he thinks because he let V interact with us, he put us in danger; because he didn't do more to stop him, he's not good enough for us.

In the bad relationship ending, we're drugged, and we have trouble recognizing people (I believe is part of the brainwashing process, as it happened to V and Zen as well). Ray is just kicking himself, for being unable to protect us. In the 1st bad ending, we have constantly convinced Ray is best and can be better from working, and so he's self-sacrificial towards us, calling us his goddess. Ray wanted to be better for us, and we convinced him this was it.

Of course, in order to convince him we love him, and that he's not short-coming in any way, we kiss him. He's quite moved by this, and a little shocked: "Our lips touched." He seems very innocent, but he says we are free to do it again as much as we want, so he enjoyed it. Of course the "savior" says the best thing for him would be to put him under, so he could be more effective. Saeran then comes out, and the first thing he does after a wardrobe change is to visit us. He wants to see what we're about. You are queued in that he is different, especially when he says he won't devote himself to you. He explains that he is another side of Ray, in fact he's more of the real one, and we're never going to see Ray again. He calls us an airhead, and mocks the idea that we think we're a princess. He then pins us to the wall, and tells us he hates the way we smell (Then why are you getting up close, dummy!). He tells us that everything about us gets on his nerves, he hates our eyes especially, maybe he should blindfold us. He then blames us for trying to get rid of him by being nice to Ray. He claims we were using him as our puppet, and that we're an idiot for trying. He demands that we entertain him, show him an interesting face, such as sadness or anger. When we tell him to let us go, he laughs at us, and claims we're disastrous and from a world of fairy tales. He claims we're stupid and good for nothing. He tells us if we know our place, we'll be silent like the grave, and not even let him notice us breathing. We get on his nerves by trembling, so he threatens to bite our head off, and so he bites us on the neck. Was it blood drawing bite or a hickie? Who knows? We try to push him away, but he's just amused that he scared us. Similar with Jaehee's bad ending, he says we shouldn't freak out because he's barely begun. He decides to check the next day to see if the marks last, so it's not that deep. He tells us we have to be interesting and fun if he's going to spend time with us. This is where we start crying, and he just wants to see us get angry. He wants us to provoke him so that he could play with us. Of course he gets bored, so he lets us go. He claims to have more "fun" with us if we make trouble, like begging for help from the RFA. If we do so, we'll be cleansed, and he knows how to make it really painful. He debates actually telling the savior we're bad so he could do it, but since we're quiet he gives up on playing with us. He leaves, telling us he'll be back when he's bored. He then tells the nearby believers that nothing is to go inside our room, and that we are forbidden to leave. We have become a prisoner.

Why is he so mean to us here? The other routes he's still a danger to us, but he's not mean. The evidence is right above here, he thinks we're a threat to his survival. He's been brainwashed to believe that part of him is essential, but we've been telling him he's fine the way he is. So he's lashing out at us. In the other routes there's no threat of us changing him "for the worst," so he's not as mean. If anything, in the other routes he's more capable of changing us for the worst.

He spends the next couple of days heavily abusing us, [Examples listed here], the savior comes in and tells us, "So sad for you, enjoy being tormented." Why is she choosing to let this happen? Well most believers have to go through training anyway, this might as well be ours. She's not as interested in us in this route, because V isn't as interested in us. When V was interested in us, she thought we were similar enough that we could understand her. In her words here, she says that we need to be the weak one in order for Saeran to be strong, it's all for his sake. You question why more believers don't have this dynamic, but you see Saeran has a lot of authority at Mint Eye, he has certain privileges, also again, this is training for us.

Saeran tells us not to tell the RFA, because obviously this isn't good; deep down he knows that. He's acting this way because he believes it's right. He also spends a lot of time pretending to be Ray, either to make Ray seem more pathetic, make us seem pathetic for liking him, or to get certain "favors" from us. He comes to our room disappointed we're not putting up more of a fuss, guessing it's because we were starved. Then he takes the time after insulting us to vent towards us about the RFA situation. We can either try to reassure him, or tell him he's over reacting, either way he snaps at us for either not doing enough or for talking back. We try to put some distance between us and him and he then tackles us to the ground, pinning us there. He calls us his prey who he has now trapped. We try either appeasing him or calling out for help, because we are terrified. He tells us that the only thing we should say to him is "Yes," we can either appease him or say nothing. Appeasing him has him tell us he's doing a good thing reminding us of our place, but saying nothing makes him aggravated. When he tells us our only purpose is to entertain him, we can either appease him or defy him by calling out for Ray. Defying him makes him consider gagging us because he doesn't like our voice, but appeasing him has him say we should use a certain honorific with his name, which I think is nim which basically means master (equivalent to Japanese sama or dono). He wants you to see him as above you, and wants you to devote yourself to him. He goes on to say we need to do a better job cleaning ourselves because we still smell the same. We get interrupted, which he says is lucky for us, then backtracks and says he'll just make the next encounter worse.

The party gets suspended, so we get taken off the task. We are no longer allowed to talk to the RFA, only Saeran and Rika. Saeran has full custody of us, allowed to get rid of us should he see fit, allowed to do with us as he pleases. He has a camera installed in our room to see us at all times, taking away our privacy. Rika asks him why he doesn't just get rid of us, and he says he can still find fun things for us to do, he likes seeing us suffer. He says the RFA is moving forward without us, not even needing us. Of course we know it's a lie. We eventually get to talk to Rika and figure out that she is the mastermind behind all of this. She says we brought this suffering upon ourselves, because we refuse to be strong like they are; that includes hurting others before we ourselves get hurt. Saeran claims that once they bring over the RFA they will also learn how pathetic we are. We can point out that the RFA won't be defeated, he nonchalantly points out that they'll just be cleansed if they refuse. Rooting for RFA over Mint Eye makes him see you as a traitor, but he says that doesn't change anything. You'll still be his toy no matter what you do. He tries to taunt you over your hunger by sharing a picture of his food, if you don't enter the chat room he tries to bribe you with it (of course, knowing him it would probably be a lie). He then decides to make you uncomfortable by making you kiss him.

He comes into your room, mocking your love for Ray. He says since you didn't get up immediately to see "the face you love so much" you must not actually love him. You could either say he isn't Ray, or tell him not to mock you. He says he may not be Ray, but at least he shares his body, so that should be enough. If you snap back to him, he gives you a kudos for your love staying strong. He then gets into your personal space (why else would the CG be that close up) and says you probably want to kiss it, he's pretending to be Ray so you can go ahead. If you don't he'll just have some fun with you in the basement and then get rid of you, whatever that means. Will he torture us, r*** us, both? Doesn't seem good either way. Now you can kiss him, or you can push him away, it doesn't really matter because he starts snapping back when you do either. When Ray snaps back, he notices how thin we are and realizes that Saeran must've been hurting us. He apologizes profusely, saying he deserves to be thrown away for such actions. When we tell him that it was Saeran, not him, he explains to us that Saeran is his birth name. Ray was created from the weakest parts of himself balled up to excised and shouldn't even exist. This anger and hatred, it is a very real part of himself, but he is also scared, Saeran is also scared, with us around he wasn't... he cuts himself off, telling us to leave before Saeran comes back and hurts us again. He then runs off.

Funny enough, in V's route Rika acts like it was a good thing to keep Saeran under, but then again she was talking to Ray at the time. In this route she acts like either one of them is good in their own ways; Ray is dutiful, while Saeran is strong.

Saeran comes into the next chat-room freaking out, wondering what we did to bring Ray back. He gets so fed up with us, he decides at the end of the chat that he's going to get rid of us. We then have a talk with Rika who says that Ray only came back because Saeran had a moment of weakness with us. Was it because he liked kissing us? Was it because we took him by surprise with us pushing him away? Maybe with the push Ray realized we were in trouble? To that degree, she decides to make our death a big ceremony, and use the special elixir on us. Yay? Everyone is going to celebrate our overdose. Saeran keeps talking about how painful it will be for us, and how once we're gone he'll get a better assistant, trying to make us suffer with prospects of the future. He is frustrated his savior won't let him take part, and we tell him what she said. He denies it and says he's going to see us before our final moments, as much as he wants and no one can stop him. Of course, he's denied entry. Rika soothes him and stops him from hurting believer on guard by telling him he's the strongest believer she has. This makes him forget his rage for a moment. He contacts us later and says what his savior told him and we should take pride we belong to him. We try to warn him he's being used, but he won't listen. He seems to be debating with himself if he actually wants us gone or not.

The 2nd Bad Ending comes up because we let Saeran get away with his abuse towards us, and reassured him on his beliefs. He takes away our phone after a cruelly tricking us into thinking Ray had returned. He's actually happy that we don't like Saeran. The point of all of this is that we're miserable. We suddenly break and just don't have any hope anymore. Later he's seen to give us gifts, only to cruelly take them away from us, calling us undeserving. We're starved to a certain extent, and he keeps telling us about a new "girlfriend" he'll have, who'll be better than us in every way. Of course, there's hope for us if we can satisfy him. Of course, what we do is never enough. He then leaves us alone for a long time, implying it's not the first time he's done it.

So, what do we know of Saeran so far? He wants to believe he's strong, and much better than Ray is. He resents that part of himself, so he's not happy with you for liking it. He's trying to prove to you he's the strong one. He does this by being forceful around you, depriving you of everything so you have no choice but to rely on him and accept him as he is. Of course he's also envious of Ray, as why else would he use him to force a kiss from us. It could be a way of showing that he owns us, but there's a point I need to make later. Why do we have to be miserable in the 2nd bad ending though? In other routes it wasn't necessary that we were miserable. I believe this all has to do with Ray, which is a point I'll make later.

Eventually he gets frustrated with how things are. He makes his way to our room and forces his way in. He snaps at us saying we better show ourselves to him, if we try to calm him down, he snaps at us for caring about him and talking back; if we ask if he wanted to see us, he just says he had to make sure we were okay for our death. He is rather frustrated though, because we're his toy so why does he get to sit out with what happens to us. Our best use would be for him to finish "playing" with us and then throwing us out himself. We try to contribute, but he barks at us to be quiet and just nod to what he says. He then starts flashing back to his mother, reminded of the abuse she inflicted on him. Despite us not saying anything, he snaps at us saying he's not like her. He keeps flashing back to his mother's abuse, and even to his own savior's abuse. He then snaps and attacks us, grabbing us tightly by the arms. He claims he's going to kill us then and there, because he's the strong one, and demands we cry out in pain. If we say nothing, he continues demanding it. If we say it's painful, then he's a bit ecstatic, happy at the pain he's causing us. If we call we strong it's the same result. He says he has to cause us pain, because whenever he does he feels a little better about his own life, and if we disappear then that cold grayness in his life will persist. We can either beg him leave with us, or tell him that even if he kills us he won't be saved. Either way he snaps at us, telling us that we don't know anything, or we'll probably just leave him if he leaves with us.

So why are we so miserable in the 2nd bad ending? It's because Saeran realizes deep down his life is not great, unlike in the other routes where we didn't make him feel like he could have a life outside with us. In other routes, he's trying to convince us he's not all bad, and life in Mint Eye is good. In this route we have to be miserable because it will prove we were wrong. Ray is weak, and therefore we're weak too.

Rika is shocked over what happened. She decides that we're better left alive for the time being, and postpones our ceremony until Saeran can be found. She also tries to keep an eye on our room in case Saeran returns there, but discovers he put a lock on the camera monitor so only he can use it. She then offers us a high position if we were to turn over Saeran should we see him again. Saeran is hiding in the garden, and plans to be agressive with whomever comes for him. V then defends him, and begs him to leave Mint Eye with him and the us, as we're also worried about him (He met us earlier to give us food and update us on the RFA). Saeran thinks of maybe turning V in or killing him, but when he thinks about what would happen to us if we left, he realizes we'd be much happier. This is where he realizes that Mint Eye isn't a paradise, and how cruel he has been to us. He tells V that he should take us and leave. Saeran then spends the next chat room talking about how he's questioning everything he believes and he's now vomited out all the elixir he's drank (hyperbole, as he literally can't). He then comes to visit us as we're sleeping, and promises us he won't hurt us ever again. He explains that all the insults he threw at us were things he thought about himself: stupid, useless, an airhead. All those times he insulted our smell, our eyes, anything about us, he never meant it. He explains that he wanted to get closer to us, but at the same time he was afraid and he wanted to put distance between us. He actually admires us, because we refused to be pushed around by him, yet we were never cruel to him, to him we're actually very strong. He just didn't want to believe it. He tried to hurt us, but in the end he was the only one getting hurt. He actually admits Ray would be a better person for us, because although he's timid ('a chicken' in his words), he would never think of harming us. In a phone call, he asks us who we would leave with, and no matter what we say, he says we should pick Ray. He promises to leave and Ray will come back instead.

Rika is shocked that Saeran would admit such things, but now that he's back and that Ray is going to be back, she'll have a better time controlling him. Overall, she's decided she's not going to kill us, instead she's just going to cleanse us. It's easier to control Saeran and Ray that way. Saeran has a flashback, where he made a promise to his brother to always be himself and never change for anyone. When he wakes up, Rika starts drilling him with plans to induct the RFA, but he realizes he doesn't want to be there anymore. He confronts her by saying that Mint Eye isn't a paradise, it's a machine she runs so she has the excuse of feeling good about herself whilst treating people like how her parents treated her. True paradise is being with the one who makes him happy. She snaps at him, saying she'll cleanse him, she'll banish him, and then realizes what she's saying and then apologizes, begging him not to leave. She also realizes he's not Ray, but he's not exactly Saeran either. Saeran then leaves.

There is a bad ending where you join Mint Eye as Rika's #2, using Saeran as a puppet king. He's willing to do so as long as you're happy.

In the Bad relationship ending, your ceremony happens. You have trouble recognizing people and Saeran has trouble recognizing himself. He feels terrible that he couldn't save you and decides to put you somewhere safe, that being the apartment.

In the game proper, he actually saves you before they come to get you for your ceremony. He comes in through the window (classic Saeran), and you land in the garden. He tells you that he is both Saeran and Ray now. It took him a while to realize what he actually wanted out of life and that Mint Eye was not a great place for him, but he has you to thank for helping him come to terms with himself. After sharing a tender moment with him, where he promises to treasure you for the rest of his life, he leaves with you to the safe house. When you're safe, you tell Saeran that his brother is missing. Saeran still has some lingering resentment for him, but he realizes most of it is misplaced and he's hoping to have a relationship with him again. The RFA is informed about Saeran's situation, and they ask him to help in the effort to find his brother. Even though he doesn't want to pursue a life in hacking, he does want to save his brother, so he agrees to do it.

In the Good ending, they have Zen reveal all of the prime minister's misdeeds and that his sons are in trouble, also detailing the life they lived. Later they visit their old home to find evidence about Saeyoung, as he was held there for a few days. Saeran has a bit of an anxiety attack upon entry, so you leave with him so he can cool his head. This is where you give him back the bookmark he had as a child (symbolizing his bond with Saeyoung). He again thanks you for everything, as he never would have even considered this path (leaving Mint Eye, trying to reconnect with his brother) without you.

In the Normal Ending, the broadcast doesn't happen, so in order to protect Saeran, Jumin decides to relocate him and us onto a private island, the only condition to be to catalog the plants there. So Saeran and us end up living on that island for a whole year, Saeran talks about each season he spent with us, as well as the fact that Mint Eye and Seven's organization have disappeared. He even mentions how he made us angry on purpose one time just to see how we'd react. He's willing to spend as many seasons with us, no matter where we live, no matter where we go.

So, final thoughts... his final form considers you an angel, his form of paradise. He treasures you and is curious about you, he sees as you as the light that lit up his dark world. He sees you as an honest being, being true to yourself but also letting him realize the truths about himself.

Ray wants to devote himself to you and make you happy to be with him. Suijin Kang diagnosed him with Borderline Personality Disorder, so therefore that would mean he's heavily attached to you, idolizes you, and wants to do right by you. The problem is he sees himself as less.

Saeran is complicated. He likes you, but he doesn't want to show it. He feels threatened by your interest in him, so he decides to approach you while also keeping himself away; he chooses to do this by abusing you. He wishes to prove again and again that your views are wrong about who he should be, that way you can't threaten him anymore.

Next we get into the After ending, this gives us some more insight on how his final personality regards you. There are so many different bad ends here, I might not go through all of them.

It starts with a meeting within the RFA to discuss plans to find and save Saeyoung from the Prime Minister. Of course V comes in, and Saeran's suspicious of him, warning you not to take in his "perfume." V knocks out everyone in the group including us, but not Saeran. The hypothesis here is that he's resistant to the drug from Mint Eye which is what the gas was made of. Saeran is at a loss of what to do when we're asleep, just wanting us to be okay. When we wake up, he professes his love for us, and says that now that we're okay he can think clearly about what to do. We obviously take top priority to him.

We decide to go to the address V gave him, and it turns out to be the apartment. Saeran scouts it out, and we decide to head in the next morning. Meanwhile, Rika and V get a hold of the chat room, claiming that everything they're doing is to protect Saeran and Saeyoung. So, Saeran makes a separate chat-room for us and Saeyoung to access, realizing Seven's agency is attacking the messenger and also getting a hold of Vanderwood, asking for his help in saving Saeyoung.

Saeran admits that everything and everyone is changing around us, but we are the heart of these changes. We allow Saeran to maintain the control he has over his strong and weak selves. The angry him had a strong heart and obsession, while the gentle him showed him he had understanding and talent. We however awakened his desire for freedom. He loves us, even the parts he cannot see. He'd have lost his way if not for us. We are his faith. Like his brother, he'd sacrifice his life for us.

Later that night he talks to us while we're asleep, admitting that he's afraid going back to his old tactic of hurting others before he himself got hurt, but he has learned how good love is so he doesn't wish to fall back into hatred. When he feels himself getting lost again, he will think of our love. The fact he loves us will always remain true, even when everything else is a misunderstanding. Faith gives him power, and power brings miracles, like us.

Over the other chat-rooms, we learn about V's mom, and Rika wanting a family relationship with the twins again. We even have a discussion on starting a family of our own, Saeran admitting that all he knows is he'll really love us during that time. So we are unable to save Saeyoung, but the two brothers at least meet, Saeyoung is okay with sacrificing himself so Saeran can be free. Saeyoung is then sent to stay with Rika and V. Vanderwood then brings us to them as well, where he was actually supposed to bring Saeran to them. Saeyoung then develops a counter plan to set us both free so Saeran would not have to give up his freedom, however he's caught. Saeran ends up developing a counter plan even before coming to us. Of course once he comes to where we are, Rika has him chained up like when he was young to keep him from going anywhere. Despite his capture, he reassures us he loves us and he's willing to do anything for us. Despite everything he's going through, he'll be alright as long as we're with him. We decide to spend as much time as possible before the MC has to be sent away. Of course, Rika gets furious with him that he isn't how he used to be. How Saeran is trying to be understanding and forgiving of her, she wants him to get angry and lash out at her. Saeran admits the last time he allowed himself to be like that he hurt someone he cared about. He'll never forgive himself for what he did to us. Now he's trying his best to understand and show compassion, instead of hurting before he gets hurt, because he realized it's not the way to go. Rika apologizes for her behavior and agrees to get him ice cream.

When she returns, they decide to let him go, and V tells him the truth about what happened to his mother. Saeran meets us in private, and tells us he has an escape plan prepared for us to escape with Saeyoung, but we realize he's planning on sacrificing himself. We beg him not to leave us, but instead he just tells us that he'll love us even as he dies, and even after he dies. He'll always be watching over us. He meets with V and Rika, where Rika apologizes for what she did to his mother. Saeran admits that his mother was uncontrollable, but he still loved her, and he also admits that he was just a diversion so we could escape with Saeyoung.

Once Saeyoung is free, he works tirelessly to set about saving his brother from his father. We agree to go save Saeran, and take Jumin's driver with us. We meet up with Rika and she apologizes for her behavior towards us as well as Saeran, she only did those horrible things to other people as a means to protect herself. She was actually was jealous of our innocence, and thanks us for not giving up on her, she then begs us for forgiveness. Then we go with her and V to go save Saeran, who is being confronted by his father, all while recalling his love for us. We could save him, or not. If we don't save him we get the normal ending, if we do save him we get the Golden ending.

There's also a couple bad endings, one where you abandon everything to live free with Saeran, leaving Saeyoung to his fate. That one he says all that matters now is that he loves you. There's also one where you have him become a spokesperson for his father, that one he says he's not sure if he's happy, but he does love you. The bad relationship ending has Rika twist things so that it seems we left him to die, and that she will love and protect him from now on. She demands that he no longer speak of us, and he says his heart is no longer with him.

In the normal ending, Rika and V are the ones to save Saeran (as well as Driver Kim). Everything goes back to normal, with the exception that Rika, V and the Prime Minister are in prison. Saeran has decided to pursue a path in life that allows him grow flowers. He once again expresses his love for us and thanks us for allowing him to live a normal life with us. He expresses a desire to create a happy family with us and dedicate his life towards us. He then proposes to us, promising to make us happy everyday.

In the Golden Ending, we're the ones who end up saving Saeran. Saeran expresses his desire to be happy with us, wishing to see us one last time, once that wish is fulfilled, all that will be is pure love for us. When we find Saeran, Rika lets us go save him. We cling onto Saeran and demand he doesn't leave us. "Oh, my stupid reckless love, now I can't die," is his response. The prime minister plans to pin the blame entirely on us if Saeran dies, however we confront him saying he will not get away with what he's doing. We also tell him the only reason he can feel okay with hurting others is because he doesn't feel loved and is all alone. He must've had a really hard past. He then tells us that in order to get what one wants they have to be cruel. Saeran before total blackout embraces his father and expresses pity for him. We rush Saeran to the hostpital, and RFA escapes the hot water they were in, Saeyoung will never forgive his father even if Saeran had. Once he wakes up, he's willing to be a real brother to him. The prime minister then visits us, and thanks us for getting through to him, agreeing to leave us alone so we can live our lives. Everyone then gets their happy ending and then some, Jumin is in Politics, Jaehee is his assistant, Zen is becoming a big time stage actor, Vanderwood returned home, Rika and V are serving time, and Yoosung learning to become a Chef in france. We are with both the Choi twins who thank us for finding them, and now we can live happily together whilst being free.

So, more final thoughts... Saeran in his true form, loves us and idolizes us to an extreme level. Borderline personality disorder is coming into view here. He's placing us up on this pedestal, however unlike the disorder, he's not going to hate us at a moment's notice. He's choosing not to pursue that path.

[Conclusion]

[larkwinged]

i redownloaded ikesengoku at the start of the week and only opened it once so im deleting it again and instead redownloading ikerev bc i miss the whimsicality of that game AND i still haven’t finished fenrir’s route 😔

[dollyichi]

BETTER THAN A BLANKET!

katsuki bakugou x f ! reader ᯓ★ 1.04k words. fluff / established relationship / not proofread / maybe ooc but you know… it’s a sleepy bakugou

katsuki has this habit of moving you on top of him. it’s a very pure, almost natural, but mindless action that just happens when you’re together.

it happens more frequently on a lazy, late afternoon during his off days. when the sun’s about to set and the both of you are enjoying each other’s company. laying down side by side, comfortable in each other’s silence.

the errands for the day were done and instead of going on a date outside, you opted to just get back home quickly—he definitely had no complaints at all, in fact, he was happy to stay at home with you, especially since he was barely even at home because of the several missions and emergencies he was dispatched to. to him, a big flaw of being a hero is being away from their lover for long periods of time—but it’s always more important that the world you helped widen for him is safer for you.

when you got home, you watched a few movies with him. laughing about the cheesy romcoms that’s number one on the streaming site. throwing popcorn when he mocks a cringy line. “well shit, he was really fucking stupid for that. can’t be me.” was your favorite comment from him, making a mental note in your head that he really hates slow-burn romance. definitely hates cheating routes too, thinking the whole film is a waste of time.

sooner or later, the two of you end up getting a little drowsy, wanting to take that power nap that the two of you deserved after the hell you guys went through this week. both of you are just waiting for sleep to hit and drift off in each other’s arms.

this moment you have with him is always special, never failing to tug on your heartstrings, especially since the golden shine of the sun passes through the thin curtains of your lovely home, landing perfectly on his pretty face that’s trying to blink and stay awake all because he always preferred you falling asleep first. half lidded eyes that still shined prettily accompanied by the warm rays.

when katsuki gets extra groggy and sluggish, he pulls you over on top him all too suddenly. tugging at your arm, looking at you like a puppy wanting treats. his mouth’s in a straight line yet his eyes already is saying a lot, it is one of the most expressive parts of him if he chooses not to speak.

and you let him, moving on top of him while he maneuvered you to however he liked, landing on him with a soft thud. you scoot a little bit to be more comfortable. nuzzling your face against his neck when you’re already put in place, “he smells so nice,” you think. he wraps his arms around you in such a tender embrace—you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. also spreading his legs apart so yours could stay on the mattress in case your legs get numb later on, he’s so considerate.

your arms under his while you softly cling to the sleeves of his shirt. you’re both chest to chest, almost feeling each other’s heartbeats. he loved doing this so much because you being his very own personal blanket would always bring him comfort. you’re always just so full of warmth and he always wants to feel it from head to toe—this is just the best position to have it possible.

you’ll talk for a bit, saying how you missed him all week and he grins at you. “yeah? your boyfriend left you all alone huh? what a dumbass.” and then you’ll tell him some stories about what you did at work, chatting about how the coffee machine keeps breaking cause an intern hasn’t learned to use it properly. he’d give you replies in small phrases, happily listening to your voice while fighting the drowsiness that’s kicking in. chuckles whenever your pitch gets higher from your rants. then you’d go back to telling him how you saw him at the news the other day, how you always worried a lot, which always made him a little sad but it couldn’t be helped.

but you’re pouting at him so cutely he ends up smiling. “i’m here now aren’t i?” he asks in a way that reassures you. “mhm, safe and sound.” you say, nudging your cheek against his.

you really wished time could slow down, even for just a bit, just to have katsuki all to yourself for a little while longer.

eventually your chat with him turns to a slower pace, your voice gradually getting softer and softer, and words more disconnected as your mind gets hazy with sleep.

he mumbles a small, “sleepy?” and you snuggle deeper onto him, which immediately translates to his head as a ‘yes.’ he doesn’t ‘bother’ you anymore with any other words or further conversation. instead, he kisses the top of your head while he waits for you to drift off before him. and he repeatedly tells you how much he loved you, at least in his head he did.

you’re closing your eyes while he rubs your back, soothing you into that dreamscape while you hope to see him right there next to you just like you are now.

when you wake up you’re in the same place you were in, except the extra warmth on your back with your puffy comforter that katsuki somehow placed on without waking you.

you figured it’s time to start preparing dinner from how dark the room is. yet, with the way he looked so cute sleeping so soundly under the cool hue of the moonlight you think it’s probably fine to sleep for a few more minutes.

and you kiss him just for a little while before you lay back down. not knowing he was awake a few minutes after you did and hoped you wouldn’t notice the blush that’s creeping up his cheeks. “that was dangerous,” he thought to himself. maybe it was cause he was still high off from his dream but whenever you make his heart skip a beat this much it makes him want to ask you to be his girlfriend again (i think this definitely calls for a ring katsuki!)

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

[nosferatufaggot]

I'm downloading Mystic Messenger..........

[hotchnerwrites]

“Enemies to lovers, but only one of them thinks they're enemies. The other has been entirely obsessed since the beginning.” Saw this concept on here and got me thinking—reader works at the bau and thinks hotch hates her, but in reality it’s the opposite and she’s misreading his signals?

Mixed Signals

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SFW, idiots in love, good ending, swear words

A/N: Hi hi hi hi!!! sorry for the long wait!!! finally have some time on hand from exams and im getting all reqs done!!! chose to go down a dry humour/funny route for this. honestly reminded me of my olive branch fic, except it's reversed ahahah. anyway, thank you so much for your patience. i hope you enjoy this!!!! so much love, mwah mwah mwah <3

My requests are open. Send me stuff! Please read the rules before asking, and be advised there is a slight wait time right now. But I will post for sure. :)

ps- i kind of maybe forgot to proofread so let's pretend any errors don't exist 😬 

At the end of the day, it was just work.

You all were colleagues— professionals selected for their skills, all crammed together into one bullpen and expected to play nice. That didn’t mean you had to be friends. People were allowed to dislike each other if they wanted. It happened. Tensions flared, personalities clashed, and someone always ate the last yoghurt tub.

And if Aaron Hotchner happened to hate you in particular, well, that was his right. It was just part of the job. And you were aware of it. Oh, so aware. Acute, constantly and embarrassingly aware.

There was no question about it: he hated you. Not disliked. Not tolerated with professional indifference. No— this was loathing. Cold, calculated, deep-in-his-bones hatred. 

You felt it in your blood every time Hotch walked into the bullpen and skipped over you when saying good morning. It radiated from his office like a laser death ray whenever you laughed a bit too loud. 

It wasn’t paranoia. You’d done the math.

Morgan? A nod of approval. Prentiss? Professional respect. Reid? Indulgent patience. Rossi? Best friends. You? Fuck all.

You were sick of the stone-faced silence. And that look he did. That little glance from the corner of his eye, paired with a crease between his brows. Like your presence caused him physical pain. You’d once made a joke in the SUV, and he sighed. Not laughed. Sighed. It was actually quite impressive, how consistent he was about it. 

You’d retaliated by calling Hotch all kinds of names. Mentally, of course. It was childish and dramatic, you know. But no more dramatic than the way he had once corrected your paperwork with a red pen, and hadn’t even told you— just left it on your desk like a cursed object. 

You tried not to take it personally. For a while, it worked. But then he started doing this thing— this new thing— where he’d enter a room, and leave as soon as you walked in. It had only happened twice, but it had been the same excuse both times: that superiors called him away. Suspicious.

So you did what any well-adjusted and emotionally mature adult would do. You went straight to Garcia’s office and told her that your boss hated you and you were going to get fired because he could smell your weakness. She’d gasped, handed you a bejewelled stress ball, and offered to hack into some database on your behalf (you declined, but it was nice to feel loved for a change).

Still, you couldn’t shake it. It seemed like he couldn’t be in your orbit for more than three and a half minutes without the need to file an HR report.

So when the moment came, you weren’t prepared.

●・○・●・○・●・

You were in the briefing room, finishing up your notes after everyone else had gone. The case had closed. People were smiling. Even Hotch had smiled at someone. (Not you. Obviously. But still.)

You were alone now, sorting through crime scene photos, muttering under your breath about timelines, when his voice startled you.

“You missed lunch.”

You jumped. Clutched a photo like a weapon. “Hotch—you can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

He looked vaguely alarmed. “I knocked.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” he insisted, like someone trying to explain doorbells to a raccoon.

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you want?”

He paused. Then, slowly, he stepped forward and—without ceremony—placed a sandwich in front of you. Neatly wrapped. Labelled with your name. From your favourite place.

You blinked. “…What is this?”

“You didn’t eat.” A beat. “It’s been a while since the brief ended.”

“I— I was going to—”

“I’ve noticed.”

You stare at the sandwich like it’s a bomb. Then at him.

“You got me food?”

“Yes.”

“Because you hate me and you’re trying to poison me?”

He blinked. “What?”

“It’s fine,” you said, hands raised in mock surrender. “I respect it. A clean kill. No one would suspect a thing.”

“…Why would I hate you?”

You let out a single, disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding? You avoid me like I’m radioactive. You only talk to me when absolutely necessary, and even then, you struggle. You sigh when I speak.”

Hotch looked absolutely, entirely baffled.

“I sigh at everyone.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. It’s a thinking thing.”

You scoffed. “Well, you don’t think around Morgan that much, apparently.”

He exhaled. Then, before you could launch into Exhibit D (the Unspoken Broom Closet Incident), he said:

“I’ve always valued your insight.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Your reports are consistently the most thorough. Your geographic profiling is precise. You’re one of the most detail-oriented agents I’ve worked with.”

You stared at him. “…So you don’t hate me?”

“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “Quite the opposite.”

Silence.

You opened your mouth, about to ask what the opposite of hate even meant in Hotch-speak, but he was already turning away, clearing his throat.

“Anyway,” he said, suddenly very interested in the wallpaper, “I thought you might want lunch. That’s all.”

And then he was gone. Just—left. Like he hadn’t just lobbed that cryptic grenade over his shoulder and walked away.

●・○・●・○・●・

You don’t eat it right away. Not because you’re still suspicious—it’s from your favourite deli and has your name written on the brown paper in what can only be described as Hotch's weird, neat serial killer handwriting—but because you're too busy mentally disassociating.

Quite the opposite.

What on earth did he mean?

The rest of the day passes in a weird, slow-motion haze. JJ gives you a weird look when you accidentally sit in her chair. Reid asks if you’ve seen his recent paper, and you blink at him like you’ve just returned from war.

Because you’re thinking. Hard.

Like:

That time Hotch asked if you were staying late and then looked weirdly panicked when you said you were walking home.

The morning you came in limping from breaking your ankle, and he said, “You shouldn’t be here,” in the flattest tone imaginable.

How he called you by your first name once, and you almost fell out of your chair because he never uses anyone’s first names. You chalked it up to a lapse. 

And then. Then, the worst one.

Last month. You’d been coughing like a maniac during a briefing. He had placed a bottle of water in front of you with a dull thunk. At the time, you had taken it to be his passive-aggressive way of saying please shut the fuck up right now. Only to find out later from JJ that he’d actually gotten up and left mid-meeting to get that water for you.

Now you're sitting at your desk rewatching it all in your head like the twist ending of a psychological thriller.

●・○・●・○・●・

You don’t see Hotch again until nearly 6 p.m., and when you do, he’s at his office door, jacket folded over one arm, clearly intending to head out.

You’re not even thinking when you get up and intercept him halfway down the hall.

He stops mid-step when he sees you. “Everything alright?”

“I… need you to clarify what’s going on.”

He exhales like someone who just got caught by airport security. “About what?”

You try to keep your expression neutral, but your heart is pounding like you’re about to ask your boss if he’s mad at you—because that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“You’ve been… weird,” you say finally. “With me. For months.”

Hotch tilts his head. “Weird.”

“You barely speak to me unless it’s about a case. You avoid sitting near me on the jet. I brought cookies in last week, and you took one, then put it back. Who does that?”

He has the audacity to look mildly horrified. “I didn’t mean to put it back.”

“That’s not the point.”

You’re spiralling and he knows it. You can tell by the way his jaw tightens like he’s trying not to laugh. You, on the other hand, are mortified.

“I just need to know,” you continue, quieter now. “If I did something wrong. If I’ve annoyed you somehow, or if you genuinely just… can’t stand me.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough to make you want to crawl into the floor tiles.

Hotch runs a hand down his face. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I—” He pauses, and then, with all the charisma of a man giving a congressional hearing, says, “You make me nervous.”

You blink. “Sorry?”

“You… distract me,” he mutters, like he’s admitting to tax fraud. “I didn’t mean to be distant. I thought it would help.”

“Oh.” It comes out stupidly small, because your brain is too busy cataloguing every single interaction the two of you have ever had and realising, oh no, he was just emotionally repressed and completely, tragically bad at this.

You swallow. “So… you don’t think I’m annoying?”

“No,” he says, almost immediately, and then after a pause, “Not even a little. Not even when you talk over me in briefings.”

You almost laugh. “That’s because you talk like we’re in court.”

“And you talk like you’re arguing with your GPS.”

Now you do laugh, and something about the way his shoulders ease tells you this is maybe the most honest conversation you’ve ever had with him.

You look at him for a second longer, searching his face. “You’re really bad at this.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve just said you liked me.”

“I’m saying it now,” he says, softer.

And okay—maybe Hotch didn’t confess it with a rose in his teeth and violins playing in the background. Maybe it came out like a man filing paperwork for a broken heart. But it’s still something.

“You want to get coffee or something?” you ask.

He nods once. “Yeah. I do.”

You don’t know what this is yet. But it doesn’t feel like work. And this time, he didn’t glare— so, by your standards, that was basically a proposal.

Thanks for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[estherchoiart]

:¨·.·¨:

`·. I couldn't get this up earlier but..

Happy Super Belated Birthday My Love!~♡

;“’;,,.,,;”’;

: ˵• ᵜ •˵ ;

; つ♡⊂;

’ :__::__:

And of course Saeyoung too.

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Even though it's late Saeran is not only special to me on his birthday, he is special to me every day of the year. (❁´◡`❁)

I keep loving you every season, every year I renew our promise.✨️

I hope I can stay by your side for the rest of my life. ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

I love you Saeran Choi, with all my heart. 💐🩷

∩ ∩

⠀ପ( ๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ

⠀⠀(⌒ づ♡ Ｉ Lᵒᵛᵉᵧₒᵤ♡

[seospicybin]

NEPTUNE.

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)

Synopsis: In a distant future where an app can predict your death, a retired dancer and an ambitious swimmer cross path by chance. With their final day looming, they choose to share it together, finding unexpected connection in the fleeting hours they have left. (19,6k words)

Author's note: With this fic, I hope that you get to realize that no matter how small your achievement is, it matters. You are matter. Happy new year, everyone! ❣

In the distant future, death isn’t a mystery. It’s an appointment.

It started with a breakthrough—an algorithm said to be so precise it could predict the exact day someone would die. Governments called it progress, a tool to manage the chaos of an overburdened planet. They named it Mortem. What they didn’t expect was how quickly the app would seep into the fabric of life.

People stopped planning for the long term. Relationships became fleeting, careers lost their permanence, and calendars filled with expiration dates. Death notifications became part of the noise—just another alert blinking alongside weather updates and dinner reservations.

But Mortem wasn’t perfect. It couldn’t tell you the when—only the day. That meant hours, minutes, or fleeting seconds could separate you from the end. For some, it was a mercy. For others, a torment.

Tonight, the city pulses with quiet tension, as it always does. Neon lights flicker against a backdrop of endless skyscrapers, their glass walls reflecting a future built on progress and control. Somewhere, phones buzz softly, notifying their owners of an unchangeable truth: Tomorrow is your last day.

For those who receive the message, there are choices to make. Will they cling to the comforts of routine, pretending the day ahead is like any other? Or will they seek something different—a chance to hold onto life for just a little longer?

Two strangers will soon find themselves asking that same question. Their lives have never crossed before, but by the time tomorrow ends, they will have shared something no one else can understand.

-

5:00 a.m.

The alarm pierces the early morning silence, jolting Hwang Hyunjin awake. With practiced ease, he silences it, sitting on the edge of his bed as he stretches his long arms. His back arches slightly, muscles awakening as he bends forward to gather his thoughts.

The world outside is still cloaked in darkness, but Hyunjin is already lacing up his running shoes. A quick double knot secures them before he presses play on his playlist, music flooding his ears and sharpening his focus.

The crisp, cool morning air greets him as he steps outside. It stings against his skin, but he welcomes it, inhaling deeply as he begins to run. His strides are steady, powerful, each one cutting against the wind. His long, dark hair bounces with the rhythm of his movement, dampened slightly by the early morning mist.

After completing his route, Hyunjin stops by his favorite bakery, where the warm aroma of freshly baked bread envelops him. He orders his usual: a selection of warm pastries and a steaming cup of coffee to go. Back at his apartment, he settles by the window, the city stirring to life beyond the glass. He takes slow bites of his breakfast, sipping his coffee as the first golden rays of sunlight paint the skyline.

It’s moments like this, quiet and unassuming, that he treasures most. They remind him of the beauty in simplicity, grounding him before the demands of the day.

By ten o’clock, Hyunjin arrives at the training center, his focus razor-sharp. He begins with a grueling gym session, pushing his limits to strengthen his arms and back. The burn in his muscles is a familiar companion, one he embraces with resolve. Sweat drips down his chin as he finishes his final set, his determination unwavering.

But this is only the beginning.

Hyunjin steps into the aquatic center, the sharp scent of chlorine filling his lungs. In the locker room, he changes into a sleek pair of swimming briefs.

"How are you feeling, my man?" A friendly pat on his back pulls him from his thoughts.

"Excellent," he replies confidently, catching his reflection in the mirror as he adjusts his swim cap. His friend's grin widens, sensing the energy radiating off him.

"What's your current record?"

"For the 100 or the 200 medley?" Hyunjin asks, slipping the last strands of his hair beneath the cap."You know which one I'm asking."

"47.12." A proud smile curves his lips.

"Bet you can take it to 46 today," his friend challenges, tossing his shoes into his locker.

The words hang in the air, lighting a spark in Hyunjin. He doesn’t need the push—he’s already determined—but the encouragement fuels his fire.

Hyunjin steps onto the pool deck, his reflection shimmering on the surface of the water. Memories of his younger self flicker in his mind, the boy who first discovered the joy of being in the water. Back then, it felt like another world—quiet, weightless, serene.

That love hasn’t faded.

He dips a hand into the pool, splashing the cold water onto the back of his neck. It’s a small ritual, an anchor before the dive. His goggles are snug against his face, a protective barrier between him and the world above.

Hyunjin climbs onto the starting block, his heart steady, his goal clear. He holds the current record in the 100-meter freestyle, but today isn’t about records or accolades. It’s about pushing himself to the edge, chasing a version of himself he’s yet to meet.

The whistle shrieks, and Hyunjin dives.

The water welcomes him, enveloping him in its familiar embrace. Each stroke propels him forward, every kick slicing through the resistance. His body moves in perfect harmony, years of training reducing the act to instinct.

To Hyunjin, the sky isn’t the limit—it’s just the beginning. And soon, he knows, he won’t just swim among the clouds. He’ll soar beyond them.

-

8:02 a.m.

The studio is quiet, save for the soft creak of polished wood beneath your bare feet. Sunlight streams through the high windows, casting long beams across the mirrored walls. You breathe in the familiar scent of resin and faintly worn leather, grounding yourself in this sacred space.

This is how you always start your mornings: alone, warming up in the quiet before the day begins. It’s a small luxury, one you’ve come to cherish in a world that feels anything but certain.

You stand in the center of the room, your reflection poised and still. Slowly, you move through the routine, arms lifting, legs extending, muscles lengthening with every step. The rhythm flows from memory—an old habit, a comfort that never falters.

Then, it happens.

A sharp ping breaks through the silence, echoing off the walls.

You freeze mid-pirouette, your balance wavering. Across the room, your phone sits on the bench, its screen lit up with a single notification. For a moment, you don’t move. It’s not unusual for your phone to chime—messages from parents, reminders for classes—but something about the sound feels heavier this time.

You exhale, lowering your arms. Whatever it is can wait. You’ve always finished what you started, and today will be no different.

You push forward, completing the warm-up with careful precision. The movements are second nature, your body carrying you through muscle memory. But there’s a weight in the air now, and with each step, your focus frays a little more.

Finally, you stop.

The studio falls silent again as you walk toward the bench. Your pulse quickens when you see the notification’s source: Mortem.

You stare at it, your breath catching in your chest. The app sits there, waiting, the message unread. Tomorrow is your last day. Is that what it will say? Or will it be another date, far off in the future?

For a moment, you consider turning away. Dancing has always been your escape, your solace. Maybe one more routine will help you clear your mind.

You step back toward the center of the studio, muscles coiled and ready to begin again. But something stops you. A voice, faint but insistent, whispers at the edge of your thoughts: Face it.

Your hands tremble as you pick up the phone. You swipe the screen, heart pounding in your ears, and open the notification.

Your eyes lock onto the date, and for a moment, everything freezes. Confusion flickers in your chest, followed by the sharp pang of disbelief. You’d told yourself you were ready for this, that the day would come eventually, but seeing it spelled out so plainly shakes you.

And then, as quickly as it came, the chaos fades. You take a deep breath, grounding yourself as you’ve done countless times before. The truth is undeniable, and no amount of fear will change it.

You’ve made your peace with death. You always knew it would come soon. And now, soon is here.

-

3:22 p.m.

Dahlias.

Your mother’s favorite flowers. They stand out vividly against the muted tones of the hospital’s inpatient ward, clutched close to your chest as you make your way to her room.

It started with an ache—sharp and unrelenting—but she didn’t see a doctor until the nausea and loss of appetite became impossible to ignore. Six months ago, the diagnosis came: stage 3 pancreatic cancer. The doctor gave her six months to a year to live, and with every agonizing moment, you’ve come to understand why she wishes the end would hurry along.

But the notification she hopes for never arrives.

“Honey, I haven’t gotten my notification yet,” she mutters the moment you step into her room. Her voice is flat, a mix of irritation and resignation, as her eyes glance at the flowers in your hands.

She’s always irritable after chemo, so you don’t let her tone sting. Instead, you walk to the sink, filling a vase with water.

After the nurse checks her IV and blood pressure, you’re left alone with her. The silence isn’t new, but it feels heavier today.

“They said six months. Why am I still here?” she groans, struggling to adjust her pillow.

You hurry to help, carefully setting the vase of dahlias on the bedside table. They brighten the room immediately.

“They’re beautiful,” she finally says, softening just a little.

“I’m glad you like them,” you reply with a faint smile.

Your mother has always lived with vivacity. She wasn’t one for small dreams; she lived a thousand of them. In her teens, she wanted to be a singer. By her twenties, fashion called her, leading to an internship at a fabric shop. There, she befriended a chef who inspired her to pursue culinary arts. It was during that chapter of her life that she met a classical musician—your father.

And you.

Her dreams shifted then, morphing into family and love, and for years, she poured herself into creating a home filled with warmth. When your father passed, she found a new dream: becoming a florist. She turned it into a thriving business.

Until six months ago.

“Are you eating well?” she asks suddenly, her concern for you breaking through her fatigue.

You nod. “Yes.”

“What did you eat this morning?”

It’s a routine question, part of her new reality where food tastes like nothing. Asking you lets her imagine the flavors she misses.

“I had cranberry ciabatta from the bakery across the street,” you lie gently.

She hums contentedly, closing her eyes. “They make the perfect ciabatta.”

“Mom,” you say softly, taking her frail hand in yours.

“Yes, my darling?”

“What would you cook for your last dinner?” You smile to hold back the lump in your throat.

Her face lights up, pleased by the question. She’s always loved sharing her stories, and now they’re all she has left to give.

“For an appetizer, I’d make eggplant croquettes,” she says with a teasing grin.

“Mom, not the eggplant,” you protest, wrinkling your nose.

Her laugh is weak but genuine. “Okay, okay. How about scampi bruschetta?”

“Now that’s more like it,” you say with exaggerated approval.

She closes her eyes, envisioning her creation. “With thyme and lemon. I’d toast the ciabatta for five minutes—just enough for a crunch—and sear the shrimp with olive oil and a pinch of salt. Then sauté spring onions with thyme, lemon zest, and honey. Acacia honey.”

As she speaks, her voice gains strength, her enthusiasm igniting memories of her former self. Between recipes, she slips in anecdotes, turning her imagined last meal into a tapestry of her life.

You hang on every word because you know these stories matter. They are her, distilled into moments you’ll carry forever.

And yet, the cruel irony doesn’t escape you.

You were supposed to be the one holding her hand at the end, not the other way around. The thought pierces through your heart as you sit there, smiling at her stories. She has spent six months longing for death, only for it to come for you first.

She deserves to rest, to find peace after everything she’s endured. You would have done anything to give her that. But the universe is merciless. It has flipped the natural order, leaving her with the unbearable task of outliving her child.

The injustice of it sits heavy in your chest, threatening to choke you. How is it fair that the one who wants to die must keep fighting, while you—her child—are robbed of the chance to live?

By the time she moves to selecting drinks, her eyelids grow heavy.

“You’re sleepy, Mom,” you whisper, smoothing the duvet around her.

She nods, offering a tired smile. “I’m just a little tired these days.”

You watch her closely, memorizing every line of her face, every glimmer in her weary eyes. “You look beautiful today.”

Her smile deepens, faint but radiant. “I know.”

“You’ve always been beautiful,” you add, unable to stop yourself.

She chuckles weakly. “I look good with cancer, huh?”

You laugh softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face, committing her image to memory.

As you stand to leave, her hand clasps yours, pulling it to her chest. For a moment, it rests there, and just when you think she’s asleep, she lifts her other hand to pat your head.

“You’re a superstar,” she whispers. “I adore you so much.”

Those were her bedtime words to you as a child, and now they hit deeper, wrapping around your heart with bittersweet comfort.

In her eyes, you will always be her child, no matter how much of the world you’ve seen or what you’ve become.

As she drifts to sleep, you kiss the back of her hand, releasing it gently. You take one last look at her before leaving the room.

This isn’t goodbye. It’s not the last mother-daughter moment, either, because in life and in death, she will always be your mother.

For you, death isn’t the opposite of life. It’s simply a part of it.

-

6:16 p.m.

“46.92!”

The words ring out in the humid air of the locker room as Hyunjin’s friend pats his back enthusiastically. They’re both standing under the shower, letting the day’s fatigue wash away.

“I see a gold medal in your near future,” his friend adds, grinning.

Hyunjin can’t stop the smile that creeps onto his face. The thought of victory is intoxicating, the image of standing atop the podium almost tangible. He can taste it—sweet, like honey.

“Beers? What do you think?” another teammate calls out as Hyunjin turns off his shower head.

For a moment, he’s tempted. He deserves it, doesn’t he? Breaking his personal record, getting closer to his dream—surely, a small celebration wouldn’t hurt.

But discipline pulls him back. His body is his temple, and the bread he allowed himself this morning was already a rare indulgence.

“Not tonight,” Hyunjin says, his tone polite but firm.

“Next time, then,” his friend replies easily, shrugging it off as he heads for the lockers.

The others filter out, their laughter and chatter fading down the hallway until silence envelops the space. Hyunjin is alone now, drying his damp hair with a towel. He moves methodically, packing his bag, folding his towel, tucking everything neatly into place.

When he pulls out his phone, a cluster of notifications greets him. Most are messages from his teammates—congratulations, plans for the weekend, harmless banter. He skims through them absentmindedly until one notification stops him cold.

It stands out like a blot of ink on an otherwise pristine page.

Mortem: Tomorrow is your last day.

For a moment, Hyunjin forgets to breathe. The locker room feels impossibly quiet, the white noise of the air conditioning fading into nothingness.

He reads the notification again, hoping—no, praying—that he’s misunderstood. But the words remain the same.

Hyunjin’s legs feel unsteady as he forces himself to move, his bag slipping from his shoulder as he stumbles toward the pool. He steps onto the edge, the scent of chlorine sharp in the air. The water is eerily still, reflecting the overhead lights in perfect symmetry.

He looks down at his reflection, and what he sees isn’t the confident, ambitious swimmer who broke his record earlier today.

It’s someone hollow. A boy with dreams just out of reach, crushed under the weight of a cruel truth.

His fists clench at his sides as anger rises in his chest, hot and unrelenting.

“FUCK YOU!” he screams, his voice tearing through the silence, reverberating across the chamber.

The sound ricochets off the walls, rippling across the surface of the water. His reflection distorts, breaking apart into fragments before settling again, unfamiliar and unkind.

They say death comes at the right time. A gentle visitor, arriving only when it’s supposed to.

But that’s a lie.

It doesn’t care about dreams or sacrifices. It doesn’t care that Hyunjin has spent years of his life in pursuit of one thing, pushing his body and mind to their limits.

It doesn’t care that he’s so close.

And now, when victory is within his grasp, it will take everything away.

He closes his eyes, chest heaving as he fights to steady his breathing. The rage doesn’t subside—it sits in his chest, a molten core of grief and frustration.

Hyunjin knows there’s nothing he can do to stop what’s coming. But for tonight, he lets himself curse the unfairness of it all, his voice echoing into the void until there’s nothing left but silence.

For Hyunjin, death is a thief.

-

7:22 p.m.

Alcohol is never your first choice. You’re not a fan of the bitter aftertaste or the burn as it slides down your throat. But tonight, you need something to dull the ache.

Your phone lies face-up on the bar, the notification glaring at you like a cruel joke. It’s accompanied by offers—a funeral service arrangement, a hotline for counseling.

You stare at the screen, unsure how to even begin processing it all. Sadness feels too small a word for the heap of emotions weighing you down. Beneath the sorrow lies a sliver of joy at the thought of not having to endure another day. And beneath that, a fragile sense of relief that it will soon be over.

How do you explain that to anyone? How do you untangle that mess of feelings, let alone share them with a therapist?

The bartender doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. Your sadness is written all over your face.

An hour passes, your drink long since gone, and you finally decide to leave. The bartender approaches, not with the check but with a bottle in hand.

“Here,” he says, taking your empty glass away.

You blink at him, confused. “I’m ready to pay—”

“I’m not taking your money,” he interrupts, pouring liquid from three different bottles into a pair of shot glasses with precise movements.

It clicks belatedly in your mind—some unspoken gesture, one you wouldn’t have recognized if you didn’t spend most of your nights at home.

“May I ask what this is?” you say, eyeing the amber liquid as he slides the shot glass toward you.

“The Three Wise Men,” he says with a faint smile.

“And who are they?”

“Johnnie Walker, Jim Beam, and Jack Daniels,” he explains, gesturing to the bottles on the counter.

“Ah...” A small laugh escapes you. “Very wise indeed.”

He lifts his shot glass, holding it up in a silent toast. “Ready?”

You hesitate, your hand wrapping around the glass. “Any tips for this?”

“Don’t think. Just swallow.”

You nod, mirroring his stance.

“To the three wise men,” he says.

“To the three wise men,” you repeat, exhaling before tipping the shot back. The liquid burns all the way down, leaving a warmth in its wake.

“Whoo...” the bartender exhales, slamming his glass upside down on the counter.

You mimic him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “That was…” You pause, laughing nervously. “…something.”

He chuckles, leaning on the counter as his gaze sweeps the bar. “They say you’re either living to die or dying to live.���

The room feels quieter for a moment as his words settle.

He sighs, his voice softening. “But you know what? I only pity the living.”

The statement strikes you in a way you can’t quite articulate. You don’t want to die, not really. But the thought of living, with all its weight, feels far worse.

“Another round?” he offers, holding up one of the bottles.

You shake your head. “No, thank you. I haven’t eaten dinner, so I don’t think that’s… wise.”

“See? You learned from these men,” he teases, capping the bottle with a grin.

You pull out your wallet, sliding a card toward him. “At least let me pay—”

He steps back, hands raised in mock surrender. “Use the money to buy yourself a nice dinner, okay?”

There’s no arguing with him, so you reluctantly tuck your card away. “Thank you,” you say softly, your voice heavier with gratitude than the words can carry.

He nods, his smile kind. “Hey, I needed that shot too.”

You rise from the stool, glancing back as you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Have a great night.”

The bartender is busy with another order, but a few steps later, his voice calls out to you.

“See you on the other side,” he says, raising a hand in farewell.

For a moment, you pause, then nod, offering a faint wave before stepping out into the night.

-

7:45 p.m.

There's nowhere to go.

You’ve been walking aimlessly since leaving the bar, letting your feet lead the way. Your hands are stuffed into your jacket pockets as you stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn green. The thought of returning to your apartment, where silence lingers like an unwelcome guest, feels unbearable.

You could visit your mother again, but the idea of seeing her only to leave her forever—it's too much to handle.

There are so many things you want to do, yet none of them feel right.

The light finally turns green, and you step off the curb. But before you can take another step, something grabs your shoulders and pulls you back. A motorcycle speeds past, narrowly missing you.

Your mind goes blank. Instead of your life flashing before your eyes, everything shuts down for a moment.

"Come on!" a voice urges. A hand takes yours, pulling you across the street just as the light turns red again.

You don’t realize what just happened until you’re safely on the other side. Someone has just saved you. If they hadn’t stopped you, that motorcycle might have dragged your body halfway down the street.

You turn to look at your savior and freeze. He’s beautiful—stunning, even—and for a moment, you’re speechless.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice gentle but tinged with concern.

His words snap you out of your daze, and you hurriedly compose yourself. "Yeah, I’m sorry, I was—"

"No, no, it’s not your fault. That motorcycle ran the light," he interrupts, shaking his head.

Why are you apologizing? You should be thanking him. But when you look at him, the words catch in your throat, so you glance away. "Thank you… for, uh, earlier," you manage to say.

He smiles, and his eyes curve along with it, warm and genuine. But then his next words take you by surprise.

"Your death isn’t today, right? I’m pretty sure it said tomorrow."

You freeze again, alarm bells ringing in your head. How does he know that? You take a step back, suddenly wary.

Realizing he’s scared you, he raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I’m sorry—I should’ve explained first."

He lowers his hands and exhales before continuing, "I was in the bar earlier. I accidentally saw the notification on your phone when I was getting my drink. And then I followed you..." He grimaces. "Wait, that makes me sound like a creep."

He stops rambling and pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, tapping the screen until it lights up. He turns it toward you, revealing a notification identical to yours.

His death is tomorrow, too.

"I guess we’re doomed, huh?" he says with a shrug, his tone oddly lighthearted.

You’re at a loss for words, staring at the screen and then at him. How is it possible that someone like him—this beautiful, radiant man—is doomed?

He puts his phone away and looks at you earnestly. "I know this is sudden, and random, and... probably really weird. But do you want to have dinner with me?"

It is sudden, random, and undeniably strange. But as you look at him—this stranger who saved your life—one thought crosses your mind: What’s the worst that could happen?

You’re going to be dead in a matter of hours anyway.

"Okay," you say.

-

08:10 p.m.

The two of you decide to walk to dinner, hands tucked into your jacket pockets, his adjusting his beanie every few steps. He finally breaks the silence as you pass the second block from where you met.

"I'm Hyunjin, by the way," he says.

You glance at him and give your name in return. When you expect the exchange to end, he extends his hand, and you shake it, feeling the chill of his skin against yours. His long fingers, adorned with rings, seem oddly delicate.

"Nice to meet you," he says with a small smile, pulling his hand back to adjust his beanie again.

“So... when did you get your notification?” he asks after a beat.

“This morning,” you reply, freeing your hands from your pockets now that the silence has been broken. “You?”

He tilts his head back slightly, lips pressing into a thin line. “Two hours ago.”

A strange feeling of unease stirs inside you, but he doesn’t let the conversation falter. “How do you feel about all this?”

“All this?” you echo.

He nods, waiting for your response. You search for the words, trying to name the whirlwind of emotions you’ve carried since the moment you opened that notification.

“I feel... alright, I guess.”

Hyunjin stops mid-step, turning to look at you with incredulity. “Alright?”

You shrug, unsure how to elaborate.

“You’re not angry? At all?” His tone sharpens, his brow furrowing in disbelief.

Angry? That hadn’t crossed your mind. There’s an odd peace in accepting what you can’t control, a clarity you never expected. You shake your head. “No.”

His eyes darken, and he mutters, “Well, I am.” He starts walking again, this time faster, his strides growing wide and purposeful.

“I’m livid,” he says through gritted teeth. “If death had a face, I’d punch it.”

You pick up your pace to match his, almost jogging, until he notices and abruptly halts.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his frustration dissolving into concern.

You nod, panting slightly.

He chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. “Sorry, I tend to walk fast when I’m angry.”

The two of you fall into a slower, more deliberate pace, hands swinging at your sides. You want to ask what exactly makes him so angry, but before you can, he stops again.

“We’re here,” he announces, holding the door open for you.

You step inside and immediately feel out of place. The restaurant is elegant, full of people dressed to the nines. Self-consciousness creeps up your spine, and you spin around to look at him—only to bump into his chest.

“Sorry,” you mumble, looking down.

Hyunjin steadies you with a firm grip on your shoulders. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly, stepping back to stand behind him.

“Table for two, please,” he tells the hostess.

She leads you to a table by a large window overlooking the city, the full moon casting a gentle glow over the skyline. As she places menus in front of you, Hyunjin mutters a polite thank-you, his attention already elsewhere.

You glance at him as he removes his jacket, folding it neatly over the back of his chair. He seems unbothered by the setting, completely at ease. He flips open the menu, his eyes scanning the options.

“Any ideas on what to have?” he asks, glancing up at you.

You fumble to open your menu, pretending to read it while avoiding his gaze. Finally, you lean forward and whisper, “Don’t you think we’re underdressed?”

He gasps dramatically, as if your words remind him of something crucial. Tugging off his beanie, his dark hair tumbles down, slightly damp and shiny, framing his small face. He ruffles it quickly, then shrugs.

“Steak? Pizza? Pasta?” he suggests, ignoring your question entirely.

You hesitate. When he offered to take you to dinner, you’d imagined a casual spot, maybe a pizza joint or noodle bar. Not this. And while you’re trying not to think about money, the menu’s prices make your stomach turn.

“I think we should go somewhere else,” you say quietly, your eyes darting over the options.

“Why?”

“It’s... too expensive.”

Hyunjin laughs, low and amused. “Do you think I can’t afford it?”

You shake your head frantically. “No, no, that’s not what I meant—”

“I’m kidding,” he interrupts with a grin. Leaning forward, he drops his voice to a whisper. “Honestly? I can probably only afford a plate of pasta and garlic bread.”

Your eyes widen, but his sly smile makes it clear he’s joking again.

“Good thing we’ve got the pity card,” he says, leaning back with a nonchalant shrug.

You freeze, reminded of the pity card. It’s a small perk that comes with the notification—a free pass to almost anything, covered by taxes. A gesture from the system to say, “Sorry you’re dying soon—here’s a little something.”

But the thought of using it makes your skin crawl.

“No,” you say, shaking your head firmly. “Not the pity card.”

“Why not?”

You struggle to explain. “It just... feels wrong. I don’t want their pity.”

Hyunjin raises a brow. “Who cares? We’ll be dead in a few hours.”

Before you can respond, a waiter approaches to pour water and set down a plate of bread. Hyunjin thanks them softly, then turns back to you.

“It’s not like we’re taking their pity with us to the grave,” he says, lifting his glass. “So, what do you say?”

You glance at the clock on the wall. Four hours left. Soon, none of this—money, pity, pride—will matter.

“We only die once, right?” you say, lifting your glass awkwardly.

Hyunjin laughs, his grin lighting up his face. “We only die once,” he echoes, clinking his glass against yours.

-

8:20 p.m.

You're not much of a conversationalist, so Hyunjin takes it upon himself to break the silence, his curiosity about you driving him forward. He has a myriad of questions on his mind but decides to start simple.

"May I ask what you do?"

His question makes you look up at him, and after a moment's hesitation, you place your hands under the table and answer with a sheepish smile, "I'm a ballet instructor."

The pieces click into place for him—the flowy skirt, black tights, and your hair tied neatly into a bun.

"So, you're a ballerina," Hyunjin remarks, nodding thoughtfully.

"I was," you correct him softly.

He tilts his head, his brows furrowing slightly. "Was?"

"I'm retired," you say briefly, offering another shy smile.

Hyunjin blinks in confusion. Retired? You seem far too young for that. "May I ask why?"

You adjust the cutlery in front of you, your hand steady despite the weight of your words. "I got into an accident a couple of years ago. I badly injured my leg, and the doctor insisted I stop dancing if I wanted to keep walking..." Your voice trails off, and your lips curve into a sad smile as you avert your gaze.

The weight of your story hits him. He can empathize with the sense of loss; after all, his situation is eerily similar. You had to give up your passion because of an accident, while he faces an abrupt end because of the ticking clock. Both of you are here, grappling with the unfairness of it all on what could be your final hours.

"It's like that saying," you continue, "‘Those who can, do. Those who can't, teach.’ So that’s what I’m doing now." You tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and flash him a reassuring smile, but Hyunjin isn’t convinced. He recognizes the facade; he’s worn it himself.

"And you're not mad about it?" he asks, fully aware he might be treading into private territory.

"I was, for a long time. But eventually, I realized there’s no point in drowning myself in anger."

This time, your smile is different—genuine, even serene. It’s as if you’ve made peace with the cruelty of life, embracing it with quiet strength. Hyunjin admires it, though he knows how hard it must’ve been for you to reach that place.

He takes a breath and shifts the conversation, sensing the need to lighten the mood. "So, you’re teaching at a dance company?"

"A dance academy," you correct him with a nod. "I teach girls between the ages of seven and sixteen."

He can picture it easily—you, guiding a room full of eager young dancers, patient and warm. You probably make their favorite teacher list without even trying.

"And what about you?" you ask, lifting your glass of water for a sip.

"I'm an athlete," he replies.

"Ah..." you murmur, intrigued. "What sport?"

"Take a guess," he says with a playful grin, leaning back in his seat.

Your laughter fills the air, and you give him a once-over, your eyes narrowing as you search for clues. After a moment of deliberation, you venture, "You’re tall and lean so... basketball?."

Hyunjin chuckles, pleased with the compliment but shakes his head. "Nope."

You purse your lips in thought. "Soccer?"

"I like soccer," he admits, leaning forward, "but that’s not it."

You groan in mock defeat, covering your face with your hands. "I’m terrible at this!"

Hyunjin laughs, finding your reaction endearing. "I’m a swimmer," he reveals.

Your eyes widen in surprise. "That’s amazing!"

"I was scouted for the national team," he says, a hint of pride in his voice. "I was supposed to compete this summer."

The realization of his words hits him mid-sentence, and the excitement drains from his face. Summer is two months away—a future he knows he won’t see.

"That’s incredible," you say gently, your empathetic smile offering comfort.

Just then, the waiter arrives with the menus, saving the atmosphere from slipping into melancholy.

"Would you like to order some wine?" the waiter asks, presenting a list.

You scan the menu and suggest, "I think I’ll have white wine."

Hyunjin glances over the options, muttering to himself, "Vanilla and peach... sounds nice."

"Viognier, sir?" the waiter recommends.

Hyunjin looks to you for approval, and your small nod seals the deal. "We’ll have that," he says.

The wine arrives alongside your meals, and the two of you fall into a rhythm of eating, sipping, and conversing between bites.

"How long have you been swimming?" you ask.

"Since I was eight," he replies, pausing to take a sip of wine.

"Wow. I didn’t even realize I wanted to be a ballerina until I was twelve," you admit.

He’s struck by how much more at ease you seem now, whether it’s the wine or simply warming up to him. "What did you want to be before that?"

"A lot of things. An astronaut, a doctor, a ventriloquist..." You pause, your cheeks flushing with a laugh. "A vampire slayer."

Hyunjin bursts into laughter, shaking his head in disbelief. "You really wanted to be everything."

"My mom broke my heart when she said I couldn’t be a vampire slayer," you say, your expression deadly serious.

"Honestly? I’d be sad too," he jokes, grinning.

You lean in, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. "Then she told me this: ‘It’s okay if you can’t achieve your dream. You can always go back to sleep and live a new dream.’"

Your laughter carries across the table, and Hyunjin smiles faintly, though the sentiment hits too close to home. Finding a new dream is one thing—but having the time to chase it is another entirely.

You finish your meal and dab your lips with a napkin. "The academy I teach at isn’t far from here, just a few blocks away. I actually have to stop by to grab a few things."

You glance at him, your expression soft. "Do you want to come with me?"

The invitation catches him off guard, but the warmth behind it makes it impossible to refuse.

"I’d love to," Hyunjin answers, smiling. For a fleeting moment, he feels less alone in facing the inevitable—because now, at least, he has a friend.

-

09:15 p.m.

"We'd like to pay with this," Hyunjin slides his phone across the table to the waiter.

The waiter studies the screen for a moment. You can see the subtle shift in his expression as realization dawns—Hyunjin's pity card, stark proof of his limited time, is what he offers as payment. The waiter looks back at both of you, his eyes softening, probably assuming this is some kind of farewell dinner.

He forces a smile and says, "We'll process it right away."

Hyunjin raises his eyebrows at you, a small grin tugging at his lips as if to say, Here it comes.

Sure enough, the waiter, taking a step away, turns back around and says solemnly, "We're very sorry."

Both of you burst into quiet laughter, your shared amusement breaking the gravity of the moment.

"That's one!" you tease, raising your coffee cup as if to toast.

When the waiter returns with Hyunjin's phone and the bill, his demeanor is still tinged with melancholy. As Hyunjin signs, the waiter fidgets slightly, clearly wrestling with unspoken words. In the end, all he offers is another subdued, "I'm very sorry."

You glance at Hyunjin with a smirk. "Two," you whisper under your breath.

The waiter departs, but not before the lady at the till calls after you as you're leaving. "Thank you, and we're very sorry."

The moment the door closes behind you, you and Hyunjin burst into unrestrained laughter.

"A hat trick!" he says, shaking his head, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets.

As you stroll to the academy, you find yourselves critiquing the meal like professional food critics, though the details blur in your slightly tipsy haze. The wine stands out—delicious enough that you’d kept asking for refills. Thankfully, the cool evening air helps clear your head by the time you reach the academy.

You unlock the studio door, the faint scent of wood polish and faint traces of rosin welcoming you. The dim overhead lights flicker on, casting a warm glow over the polished floor and mirrored walls. Hyunjin steps inside, his eyes widening as he takes in the space.

"This is where you work?" he asks, his voice tinged with awe.

You nod. "My second home."

Hyunjin walks around the room, his footsteps echoing softly against the floor. He pauses by the ballet barre, running his fingers lightly over the smooth wood. "This place is beautiful," he murmurs.

You smile, setting your bag down. "It has its charm, doesn't it?"

His gaze falls on the wall of framed photos—groups of smiling children in costumes, candid shots of performances. "Are these your students?"

"Yes," you say, walking up beside him. "They’re the reason I still love what I do."

Hyunjin glances at you, his expression soft. "I can see why they'd love you as a teacher."

The compliment catches you off guard, and your cheeks warm. Quickly, you motion to the barre. "Want to try something?"

He raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "Are you offering to teach me ballet?"

"Why not?" you say, grinning. "You’re an athlete. It’ll be fun."

-

10:25 p.m.

You stand in front of him, arms crossed, as Hyunjin tentatively grips the barre. His tall frame looks comically out of place in the elegant studio.

"Okay," you begin, stepping closer. "We’ll start with something simple—a plié."

Hyunjin looks at you skeptically. "A what?"

You laugh softly. "It’s just bending your knees. Easy."

Demonstrating, you lower yourself gracefully, your knees bending outward as your back stays straight. Hyunjin watches, nodding, and attempts to mimic you.

His execution is… not as graceful.

"No, no," you say, laughing, stepping behind him to adjust his posture. "Straighten your back. And don’t forget to keep your heels on the ground."

You place your hands lightly on his shoulders to guide him. The moment your hands touch him, he stiffens, looking up at your reflection in the mirror.

"Relax," you say softly, your gaze meeting his.

He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and finally eases into the position. You step around to face him, studying his form critically.

"Not bad," you tease. "But your turnout needs work."

"What’s that?" he asks, genuinely curious.

You tap his knee gently. "It’s the angle of your legs. Let me show you."

You crouch slightly, your hands brushing his calf as you adjust his stance. He watches you intently, his dark eyes following your every move. When you glance up, you find him staring.

"Something wrong?" you ask, standing upright.

He blinks and shakes his head. "No, it’s just… you’re really good at this."

You chuckle, stepping back. "It’s my job."

Encouraged by your patient coaching, Hyunjin tries another plié. It’s still a little stiff, but he manages to get through it without wobbling.

"See? You’re getting the hang of it," you say, clapping lightly.

"Don’t lie," he says, laughing.

"Okay, you’re still stiff," you admit with a grin, "but that’s expected. Ballet is all about control and precision."

Hyunjin straightens up, rolling his shoulders. "It’s harder than it looks."

"Now you understand why ballerinas are tough," you say, playfully nudging him.

He laughs, the sound light and carefree. "Okay, what’s next?"

You hesitate, considering. "Maybe a pirouette?"

"A what?"

You demonstrate the spin, moving with effortless grace. Hyunjin stares, wide-eyed.

"Yeah, no," he says, laughing nervously. "I’ll break something."

You step closer, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "I’ll guide you. Trust me."

As you position him for the spin, your hand lingers on his waist. The closeness brings an unexpected tension between you, and for a moment, neither of you moves.

"You ready?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin nods, his eyes locked on yours.

"Okay. One… two… three."

He spins—clumsily, of course—but the two of you dissolve into laughter as he nearly stumbles into you. You catch his arm to steady him, the laughter fading as you find yourselves standing mere inches apart.

"Not bad for your first time," you say softly, your hand still on his arm.

Hyunjin smiles, his gaze lingering on you. "Only because I had a good teacher."

-

10:55 p.m.

The quiet of the studio wraps around you like a soft blanket, interrupted only by the faint hum of the overhead lights. Hyunjin leans against the barre, watching you adjust your pointe shoes with practiced precision. The thought has been circling his mind since you both left the restaurant, but now, in this space that seems so deeply a part of you, he can’t hold back his curiosity.

“So…” he begins cautiously, his voice light but uncertain, “how did it happen?”

You pause, looking up at him with a flicker of confusion.

“I mean, your accident,” he clarifies quickly, his expression apologetic, as though he’s afraid he’s overstepped. “If it’s okay to ask.”

A faint smile touches your lips, and you straighten, leaning against the mirror. “Two years ago,” you say softly, the words feeling fragile yet certain, as if the memory lives just on the edge of your voice.

Hyunjin stays quiet, giving you space to continue.

“I was preparing for an audition—Swan Lake,” you say, your eyes shimmering with a mix of pride and pain. “I’d been working on my fouettés for weeks, trying to perfect all thirty-two of them. It was… everything to me.”

He can see it in your expression, the longing for something lost yet deeply cherished.

“The morning of the audition, I was rushing to catch the bus,” you continue, your hand gesturing lightly as though retracing steps from that day. “I was almost out the door when I realized I’d forgotten my shoes—the ones I believed would bring me luck. So, I ran back to get them.”

Your voice falters, and Hyunjin feels a pang of dread, already sensing what comes next.

“When I stepped out of my apartment building, a car came out of nowhere.”

You take a deep breath, your fingers brushing over the edge of the barre. “It wasn’t even going that fast, but the way I fell… My leg took the worst of it. Surgery, physical therapy… the usual.”

Hyunjin swallows hard, unsure what to say. “Do you… regret going back for the shoes?”

A soft, almost bitter laugh escapes you. “Every day.”

The silence that follows feels heavy and fragile, a moment suspended between reflection and grief.

“Can you dance at all now?” Hyunjin asks gently, his voice barely above a whisper, unsure if he wants to hear your answer.

You surprise him by smiling. “Why don’t I show you?”

Standing in the center of the studio, a quiet determination settles over you. The space transforms as you raise your arms, your posture suddenly regal, every movement deliberate and graceful.

“This is the introduction to Black Swan, Act III,” you say, your voice steady. “It’s what I’d prepared for the audition.”

Hyunjin nods, unable to take his eyes off you as you begin to move. You are mesmerizing, every gesture steeped in a passion he can feel even in the silence of the room. But as you transition into the fouettés, he notices the strain in your expression. Your balance falters, your leg wobbles, and before he can call out, you tumble to the floor.

“Are you okay?” Hyunjin rushes to your side, dropping to his knees as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

Instead of answering, you let out a loud, breathless laugh that echoes through the studio. You collapse back onto the polished floor, holding your stomach as the laughter spills out, unstoppable.

Hyunjin blinks, confused at first, but the sound of your laughter pulls him in. A small smile tugs at his lips. “You’re unbelievable,” he mutters, lying down beside you.

The quiet returns, the two of you staring up at the ceiling.

After a moment, you speak, your voice softer now, almost wistful. “Sometimes, I like to think there’s another me out there, one who made it to the audition, who got to live that dream.”

Hyunjin turns his head to look at you. Your expression is calm, tinged with longing but also a quiet acceptance.

“And you know what?” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m happy for her and that’s enough for me.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say, so he simply stays beside you, sharing the silence. There’s something achingly beautiful about your acceptance, the way you’ve found peace in the life you have now.

In that moment, he realizes how much strength it takes to smile at what could have been and quietly say, That’s enough.

-

11:13 p.m.

The studio falls into a comfortable silence, the kind that feels like a warm embrace. After a while, you sit up, brushing your hands over the smooth wood of the floor, and glance at Hyunjin lying beside you. He looks peaceful, almost lost in thought, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips as an idea forms.

“I showed you my dancing,” you say, breaking the quiet. “Now I want to see you swim.”

Hyunjin’s head turns toward you, his brows lifting slightly in surprise. “You want to see me swim?” he asks, his voice soft yet curious.

You nod, leaning back on your palms. “It’s only fair. I want to see you doing what you do best.”

For a moment, he studies you, as if trying to gauge whether you’re serious. Then, a small chuckle escapes him, and he pushes himself up to sit beside you. “Alright,” he says, a playful smile spreading across his face. “If you really want to.”

He rises to his feet effortlessly and extends a hand to you, his fingers warm and steady as they wrap around yours. With a strong tug, he pulls you up, but the motion catches you off guard, and your body stumbles forward, colliding with his.

Your breath hitches as you find yourself pressed against him, your hands instinctively landing on his chest for balance. Hyunjin’s hands settle on your waist, steadying you, and for a moment, the world feels still again—but this time, it’s charged with something unspoken.

You glance up at him, and your heart skips a beat when you notice his gaze lingering on your lips. The air feels heavier, your pulse quickening under his touch. His expression is unreadable, his eyes soft yet intense, as if caught in a moment of indecision.

Flustered, you look away quickly, stepping back to put some distance between you. “I should, um, clean out my locker first,” you say, your voice slightly rushed. “Then we can go.”

Hyunjin blinks, the spell broken, and his lips curve into a small, understanding smile. “Alright,” he replies simply, his tone easy and light, as though nothing happened.

You turn toward the studio door, your cheeks warm as you try to steady your racing thoughts. Behind you, Hyunjin’s footsteps follow quietly, his presence a steady comfort in the stillness of the room.

-

11:49 p.m.

As the taxi pulls up in front of the aquatic center, Hyunjin is the first to step out. The cool night air brushes against his skin as he circles around to your side, offering his hand to help you out of the back seat. You take it with a quiet "thank you," and he smiles softly in response, his fingers lingering for a moment before he lets go.

Inside, the center is quiet, the fluorescent lights casting a pale glow over the sleek, tiled interior. Hyunjin leads the way, his footsteps echoing lightly in the stillness, but after a few steps, he notices you’re no longer beside him.

He turns around, his brows knitting together in concern. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

You hold up your phone, its screen glowing in the dim light, and his eyes fall to the numbers displayed there. It’s past midnight. The date has turned, and the realization hits him like a weight in his chest—this is it. The day has come.

“It’s today,” you say quietly, your voice steady but tinged with sadness.

Hyunjin studies your face, searching for any sign of fear. “Are you scared?” he asks softly.

You don’t answer right away, your lips curving into a sad smile instead. Then, with a steadying breath, you meet his gaze and say, “Promise me something.”

His heart tightens at your tone. “What is it?”

“If my time comes first,” you begin, your voice cracking slightly, “I want you to move on. Keep going. Finish your day, okay?”

Hyunjin’s chest tightens, his head shaking before you can even finish the thought. “No,” he says firmly, stepping closer to you. “I can’t do that. Not unless you promise me the same thing.”

You hesitate, your eyes glistening under the soft glow of the lights. After a moment, you nod, your voice a whisper. “Okay. We’ll both keep going.”

He takes your hand in his, his grip firm but comforting. “We’ll do it together,” he says, his voice steady and resolute.

You smile at him then, soft and bittersweet, and he feels his heart ache at how brave you are in this moment.

Hyunjin squeezes your hand gently and tilts his head. “So,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips, “do you still want to see me swim, or is there something else you’d rather do?”

You shake your head, a quiet laugh escaping you. “I still want to see you swim,” you insist, your determination making his heart feel lighter.

He chuckles softly, releasing your hand and motioning toward the pool. “Alright then,” he says. “Let’s make this count.”

With that, he turns and walks with you into the aquatic center, the weight of the clock pressing on both of you, but your shared promise holding it at bay for just a little longer.

-

12:07 a.m.

The sharp, unmistakable scent of chlorine stings your nose as you step inside the aquatic center. The lights overhead cast shimmering reflections across the vast, still water, and you pause, taking it all in. The pool is immense, almost intimidating in its size, with the kind of quiet that feels both peaceful and eerie.

You walk to the edge, peering over cautiously. The water glimmers below, deceptively inviting, but as your gaze shifts downward, the sheer depth of the pool sends a chill through you.

“Can you swim?” Hyunjin’s voice cuts through the stillness, pulling your focus to him.

You shake your head, your lips pressing into a tight line. “No,” you admit softly. “I almost drowned once when I was ten. I’ve been afraid of swimming ever since.”

Hyunjin studies you for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, with a small smile, he says, “It’s not too late to learn, you know.”

You hesitate, your arms wrapping around yourself. The idea alone sends your pulse racing, the memory of water filling your lungs still too vivid in your mind. “It’s… not that easy,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

Hyunjin steps closer, holding out his hand to you. His voice is gentle but insistent. “Come with me. I can teach you how to swim… without the water.”

You glance at his outstretched hand, uncertainty swirling inside you. But the way he looks at you, so patient and reassuring, nudges you forward. Slowly, you nod.

“Alright,” you say, placing your hand in his.

He leads you to a smaller pool, its drained interior revealing its tiled floor. Hyunjin climbs down the ladder first, but the rungs don’t reach all the way to the bottom, and you watch as he drops the last few feet with an easy, practiced grace.

“It’s not so bad,” he calls up to you, extending his arms. “Come on. I’ll guide you down.”

You grip the ladder, your knuckles whitening as you lower yourself carefully. Hyunjin watches you closely, his gaze steady and encouraging. But as you near the bottom, your foot slips on the slick metal.

Your heart lurches as you lose your grip, your body tilting backward into the empty pool.

“Hyunjin!” you cry out, the name leaving your lips instinctively as panic seizes you.

For a split second, the world tilts and blurs, your breath catching in your throat. The feeling of falling stretches out endlessly, your chest tightening with dread. Is this it? Is this the moment everything ends?

The silence in the pool amplifies the rush of your heartbeat, drowning out everything else.

-

12:15 a.m.

It all happens so fast that Hyunjin doesn’t fully register the moment until you’re lying at the bottom of the drained pool, unmoving. A jolt of fear grips him as he rushes to your side, kneeling beside you.

“Hey,” he calls softly, his voice trembling. His hand hovers over your shoulder, unsure whether to shake you or give you space. Your eyes remain closed, and there’s no reaction. For a second, his breath hitches.

Then, just as his chest tightens with panic, you let out a low whine, your hand reaching for the back of your head. Relief crashes over him so strongly that he nearly laughs out loud.

“You scared me!” he exclaims, leaning closer as he gently brushes his fingers against the back of your head to check for any injury. “Does it hurt here?”

You wince but then immediately chuckle, brushing him off. “That would’ve been such an anticlimactic death,” you joke, trying to sit up.

Hyunjin lets out a shaky laugh, torn between exasperation and amusement. “I don’t think I’d recover from that,” he mutters, helping you up. To make sure you’re okay, he holds up three fingers with a mock-serious expression. “Alright, genius. How many fingers am I holding up?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his hand away, a grin tugging at your lips. “I’m fine, Hyunjin.”

“You sure?” He narrows his eyes, clearly still worried.

“Yes, I’m sure,” you reply, waving him off. “Now, are you going to teach me how to swim or not?”

He laughs and takes a step back, gesturing for you to follow him to the center of the empty pool. “Alright, since you’re so eager. Do you have a swimming style in mind?”

“Uh… backstroke?”

“Backstroke, huh? Fancy choice.” He teases, listing a few others—freestyle, breaststroke, butterfly—all with a playful grin. Shrugging off his hoodie and tossing it to the side, he positions himself in front of you, standing tall and confident.

“Okay,” he says, holding his arms out in front of him. “Rest your back on my arms. I’ll guide you.”

You hesitate, your brows knitting together. “I don’t know, I might be too heavy—”

“Seriously?” He rolls his eyes and interrupts you. “I’m an athlete. I’m strong enough to hold you. Just trust me.”

Still unsure, you eventually take a deep breath and lean back, letting your weight settle onto his arms. His grip is steady, firm, and reassuring.

“See? No problem,” he says, his voice soft now, coaxing you to relax. “Alright, keep your body straight, like you’re floating on water. Flap your arms back and kick your feet forward, just like this.”

You follow his guidance, mimicking the movements, and he begins to move backward, gently carrying you along. It feels so real that for a moment, you let yourself believe you’re actually swimming.

But then your focus drifts as you glance at him—his sharp features illuminated under the pool’s dim lights, the concentration in his expression, the way he looks at you like you’re the only person in the world.

He catches your gaze and quirks a brow. “What?”

Flustered, you quickly look away, and your hand smacks against the tiled wall at the end of the pool. Startled, you sit up.

“Whoa, swimmer!” Hyunjin teases, his laughter echoing in the empty pool. “If this was real, your head would’ve hit the wall instead of your hand.”

You can’t help but laugh with him, the moment so lighthearted and surreal that it temporarily pushes the looming reality of the day out of your mind.

Hyunjin chuckles as your laughter fades, his hand brushing back his damp hair. The glimmer in his eyes is playful, but there’s an undercurrent of something softer, almost protective, as he watches you sit up fully, still smiling from his teasing.

"Alright," he says, crossing his arms. "You’re not bad for someone who’s never been in the water."

You roll your eyes but can’t help grinning. “Thanks to my amazing teacher, right?”

He bows theatrically. “Obviously. Natural talent helps too, but I’ll let you take some credit.”

You shake your head, standing up as you stretch your arms. “Well,” you say with mock seriousness, “now that I’ve impressed you with my not-so-real swimming skills, it’s your turn to show me what you’ve got.”

Hyunjin straightens, his grin widening. “Oh, you want to see me swim for real?”

“Of course,” you reply, stepping aside and gesturing toward the other end of the pool. “How else am I supposed to judge if you’re actually any good?”

He smirks at your challenge, the competitive spark in his eyes lighting up. “Alright, I’ll show you,” he says confidently, already pulling his hoodie back on. “But don’t blink—you might miss how fast I am.”

You laugh, following him as he leads the way out of the drained pool, anticipation bubbling in the air between you.

-

12:55 a.m.

The aquatic center feels almost otherworldly in its stillness, the faint scent of chlorine hanging in the air. When Hyunjin finally reappears, dressed in nothing but his swimming trunks, towel, and goggles in hand, it takes you by surprise. His tall, lean frame seems even more striking now, the hoodie he'd worn earlier having hidden the breadth of his shoulders and the defined lines of his physique.

You catch yourself staring, and before you can stop it, an awkward giggle slips out. Hyunjin tilts his head, confused but amused. "What?" he asks.

Shyly, you admit, "Nothing, I just— I was starting to get creeped out being here all alone when you went to change."

He chuckles softly, walking to the edge of the pool. He crouches to scoop water into his hand, splashing it onto the back of his neck before straightening up.

"I need to warm up first," he says casually. You nod, stepping back to give him space.

Hyunjin drops to the ground and starts doing push-ups, his muscles flexing with each movement. You’re mesmerized despite yourself, your gaze tracing the way his body moves with fluid strength. Feeling the heat creep up your face, you force yourself to look away just as he finishes, bouncing lightly on his feet to shake out his wrists and arms.

"Don’t blink," he says, smirking as he heads toward the pool. "I swim so fast, you might miss it."

Rolling your eyes playfully, you respond with a teasing, "I’ll try to keep up."

Hyunjin dives in, his body cutting through the water with ease. The rhythmic splashing fills the air, and you can’t help but admire him. Watching him move with such precision and grace, he looks almost otherworldly—like a god emerging from the sea as he surfaces and climbs out of the pool.

The sight of water beading on his skin makes you avert your gaze, your heart racing. Grabbing the towel he'd left behind, you hand it to him without meeting his eyes.

"What did you think?" he asks, running the towel over his hair.

"Eh, it was alright," you tease with a grin.

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow at your playful jab but chuckles, grabbing a stopwatch from his things. "Alright, critic. Let’s make it official. Time me this time."

"I don’t know if I’ll get it right," you protest, but he waves your concerns off.

"It doesn’t have to be perfect," he reassures you, securing his swimming cap and goggles. Once he’s ready, he asks, "You ready?"

You move closer to the pool’s edge, holding up the stopwatch. "Ready when you are."

Hyunjin steps onto the starting block, his form taut and focused. You start the countdown, your voice echoing slightly in the vast space. "Three... two... one!"

At the sound of "one," he dives in, and the water comes alive with his movement. Squatting down, you watch intently as he powers through the length of the pool and then back again, his speed almost unbelievable. The closer he gets to the edge, the tighter your grip on the stopwatch becomes.

When his hand finally slaps the wall, you hit the button, exhaling in relief.

Hyunjin surfaces, wiping his face. "What’s the time?"

You glance at the stopwatch, still catching your breath. "Forty-six point six-five," you announce, your voice tinged with excitement.

For a moment, Hyunjin looks puzzled, then his expression lights up. Dropping his towel, he strides over and lifts you effortlessly by the waist, spinning you around.

"Wait—did you break your record?" you ask, half-laughing and half-stunned.

He nods, grinning, but the elation fades quickly. As he sets you back down, his smile dims, his joy giving way to something more subdued.

"Hyunjin, what’s wrong?" you ask, concerned.

He shakes his head, forcing a small smile. "It’s nothing," he murmurs. Without another word, he excuses himself to wash up, leaving you alone with the faint ripples in the pool and a lingering sense that something deeper is on his mind.

-

01:08 a.m.

The hot shower does little to clear Hyunjin’s mind, the cloud of thoughts stubbornly lingering as he dries off and dresses. He sighs, running a towel halfheartedly through his damp hair before giving up and heading out.

The sound of his footsteps echoes softly as he exits the changing room, and he sees you standing by the bulletin board, seemingly engrossed in its contents. At the sound of his approach, you turn, your face lighting up with a soft smile. Hyunjin feels something warm unfurl in his chest—a comfort he hadn’t expected.

“You didn’t dry your hair properly,” you tease gently, pointing to the still-dripping strands clinging to his neck.

He rubs the back of his head sheepishly, and you tilt yours thoughtfully. “How about some hot drinks after this?”

Hyunjin arches a brow, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “Hot drinks, huh? I’ve got just the thing.”

The short walk to his apartment is quiet but companionable, and when Hyunjin opens the door, he apologizes for the small, bare setup. His apartment is modest and practical—one room with everything visible at a glance—but he doesn’t seem embarrassed, just matter-of-fact.

He heads straight for the kitchen, pulling out a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. “This is what I mean by hot drinks,” he says, smirking as he pours two glasses.

You both take a sip, and the burn of the alcohol draws simultaneous gasps. Laughing, Hyunjin suggests snacks to enjoy the drinks with and disappears back into the kitchen.

While he’s gone, your attention is drawn to a shelf lined with photos, medals, and trophies. You step closer, taking in the collection of memories. There’s Hyunjin on a podium, his face glowing with pride as he holds up a medal; Hyunjin mid-dive, captured in perfect form; Hyunjin smiling so brightly that the photo seems to radiate his joy.

When he returns, balancing a plate of snacks, he pauses beside you, his gaze falling on the same shelf. For a moment, there’s silence, just the two of you standing there, and then Hyunjin lets out a soft sigh.

Hyunjin sets everything down on the small table, but his eyes linger on the shelf filled with memorabilia. The once-vivid memories of his accomplishments now feel distant, like faded photographs of a life that no longer feels like his own.

He steps closer, his gaze tracing over the medals hanging neatly on hooks, the trophies gleaming faintly under the dim light, and the framed photos of him on various winner's podiums. He can almost hear the echo of applause, the feel of a medal being draped around his neck, the weight of victory sitting proud on his shoulders.

But the applause has long since faded, and what hangs over him now is a heavier truth: it will all become nothing.

Hyunjin swallows hard, the realization pressing against his chest like a stone. Every record he broke, every trophy he held high—soon, none of it will matter. No one will remember him or the things he did. The glory, the pride, the recognition—it will all vanish as if it never existed.

He lets out a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “All of this... it’s meaningless now. Everything I’ve done—it’s nothing. Soon, it’ll all be forgotten.”

The weight of his words fills the room, thick and suffocating. His shoulders slump as he drops his gaze, unable to meet your eyes. For a moment, he feels like the water he’s so accustomed to—a surface rippling with movement, but underneath, a deep void pulling him down.

You stand beside him, quietly taking in his anguish. Finally, you turn to him, your voice steady, a soft but unyielding anchor against the tide of his despair. “I disagree with you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin looks at you, surprised by your tone.

“This is... your whole life and it shows that you achieved a lot of great, wonderful things. You can see how far you've become, your triumphs and failures, everything that makes you who you are now,” you say, your eyes locking with his. “And just because the whole world doesn't know how great you are this doesn't mean it's nothing. This is not nothing, this is everything.”

He watches you intently, your words weaving through the storm of his thoughts like threads of light. For a moment, he feels the weight on his chest lift, just enough for him to draw a deeper breath.

It's true that his dream is to make a mark in the world, he wants to be remembered by the world but as he looks at you, Hyunjin realizes that it only takes one person to know what he capable of. He doesn't need the whole world to know that he's great, he only needs one that fully acknowledges him as one.

-

01:22 a.m.

Hyunjin's words linger in the air, heavy with vulnerability, and for the first time since meeting him, you realize just how deeply he craves to make a mark on this world. It isn’t just about the trophies on his shelf or the accolades he’s earned—it’s about the story he wants to leave behind, the proof that he existed, that he mattered.

You see it in the way his fingers hover over the medals, in the wistful look in his eyes as they trace the photos on the shelf. For all his confidence and charisma, there’s a quiet fear beneath it all—a fear of being forgotten, of fading into obscurity when his time is up.

“Hyunjin…” you say softly, stepping closer to him. He doesn’t look at you right away, his gaze fixed on a photo of him on a podium, his smile bright but distant, like a memory that no longer feels real.

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of what to say. But then, the words spill out. “You are something and you're a fool for thinking otherwise.”

That catches his attention. He turns to look at you, his expression unreadable, and for a second, you worry you’ve said too much. But then his lips part, as if he’s about to say something, and he stops himself.

Instead, he just looks at you. Really looks at you. And in his eyes, you see something shift—a softening, a quiet acknowledgment of your words sinking in.

You feel your pulse quicken, the air between you charged with something unspoken. “And I know that we'll go into oblivion soon,” you continue, your voice steady but quiet, “but I'm still here and I know, I know how remarkable you are.”

Hyunjin’s gaze doesn’t waver, and for the first time, you see him without the walls he’s so carefully built around himself. He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out as if to steady himself—or maybe you.

“I don’t know if I can believe that yet,” he murmurs, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. “But… thank you.”

The way he’s looking at you now feels different—like he’s searching for something, something only you can give him. And as the silence stretches between you, you feel the weight of it shift into something warmer, something that pulls you closer to him without either of you realizing it.

When Hyunjin leans in, it isn’t sudden. It’s slow, deliberate, as if he’s giving you every chance to step back. But you don’t. You hold your ground, your breath catching as his face inches closer to yours.

And when his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft, almost hesitant, like he’s asking a question he’s too afraid to voice aloud. But as you kiss him back, the answer becomes clear. For this moment, at least, he isn’t alone.

Hyunjin pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm and uneven against your skin. His eyes flutter open, and for a moment, you both stay there, caught in the stillness of the moment. His gaze searches yours, hesitant but vulnerable, like he’s waiting for something—validation, reassurance, or maybe just the courage to believe in himself.

Before he can say anything, you lean in again, capturing his lips with yours. This kiss is different, deeper, more intentional. You pour everything you want him to know into it—all the words he needs to hear, the things you can’t quite say aloud.

You are something. You are remarkable. You are a wonder, both in the water and outside of it.

Hyunjin responds immediately, his hands sliding to your waist, holding you like you’re the anchor he didn’t realize he needed. You can feel the way his lips tremble slightly against yours, the way his touch tightens just enough to keep you close but not trap you.

Through the kisses, you try to tell him everything you feel. That his achievements aren’t meaningless. That his existence isn’t something that will fade into nothingness. That even in the face of the inevitable, he has already left a mark—on you, on the world, on everyone lucky enough to know him.

His hands move to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as if grounding himself in this moment, in you. His lips press harder against yours, the kiss turning fervent, desperate, as though he’s trying to absorb every ounce of comfort and affirmation you’re giving him.

You can feel the tension in his body begin to melt away, replaced by something softer, something more vulnerable. The world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in this small, quiet space.

When you finally pull back, it’s not far—just enough to catch your breath. Hyunjin’s eyes remain closed for a moment, his expression unreadable, but when they open, they’re shining with something you can’t quite name. Gratitude, maybe. Hope.

“You’re…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper. But he doesn’t finish. Instead, he leans in again, his lips finding yours once more, and this time, it feels like a promise.

The two of you melt into each other, the kisses growing slower but no less intense. You lose track of time, caught in the warmth and closeness, as if the weight of the world has lifted, if only for a little while. For this moment, at least, you’re both enough—just as you are.

-

01:52 a.m.

Hyunjin's forehead still resting against yours, his breath warm against your lips. His fingers trail softly down your arms, and his gaze locks onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. There’s no hesitation now, no doubt in the way he looks at you, like he’s trying to memorize every detail, every curve, every moment.

Without a word, he cups your face, his touch both gentle and steady, as if grounding himself in you. His thumbs trace slow circles over your cheeks, and you feel your breath hitch as his lips find yours again, softer this time, yet filled with a quiet yearning.

The world around you feels muted, distant, as he leads you toward the bed. The dim light casts soft shadows, and the room seems to shrink until it holds only the two of you.

“You're breathtaking,” Hyunjin murmurs with a low, sultry voice.

"Wait, wait. I'm..." you protest in breathless sighs, your hips arching, lifting off the bed.

He rushes a kiss on your open mouth, his lips graze yours as he says, "Let go. I've got you."

Your abdomen flexes under his arm as you clench around his fingers so hard it nearly pushes him out of you. His cock has never been so jealous than when you begin to come. Your eyes grow big, and your mouth drops open on a silent scream, and your wall clutches around his long, dainty fingers harder with each pulse.

Unreal. Hyunjin says in his head as he looks at you with a pair of big, lustful eyes.

"Look how gorgeous you are, coming on my fingers." He coos, his eyes traveling down your naked body that feels small in his arms. You moan louder in response and he knows he hits his mark.

Eventually, looking is not enough for him so he uses his free hand to touch you. "Look at your eyes, your mouth, your breasts. This soft, soft skin..."

Hyunjin softly smiles at your beauty as you fall apart around him. "So beautiful..."

You're still climaxing and you need this more than he realized. Which means you haven't had it in a while, at least not this good.

"Hyunjin!" You shriek, almost in a panic.

He presses his plush lips to your ear, his breath hot and tickling. "You look perfect like this."

Low moans are spilling out of you, still coming and struggling to breathe through it. Hyunjin curls his fingers and taps you right in the spot in a quick rhythm, and your eyes roll back a little.

"Good girl, keep coming for me. You're doing so well. That's it, be my greedy girl."

When you collapse onto the bed, he ushers you onto his lap, then cradles your spent body in his arms. As soon as he pulls his fingers out, your thighs press together.

"Don't close your legs." Hyunjin rests a hand on your inner thigh, wanting to see every spasm as he tastes your lips. "You're done hiding from me."

You lie side by side, and Hyunjin hesitates for a moment, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. His gaze searches yours, as if silently asking for permission, for reassurance. You respond with a small nod, your fingers reaching to trace the curve of his jaw.

When he leans in again, it’s slow, deliberate. His lips move with yours in a rhythm that feels like a conversation, one that needs no words. His hand finds yours, fingers interlacing as he presses you closer, as if trying to erase the space between you.

“At least, we don't have to worry about condoms,” Hyunjin makes a funny remark as he settles himself between you.

A chuckle escapes your mouth in response, your head falls back onto the pillow. “That’s one way to see it!”

Hyunjin lowers his mouth on you, his trail of kisses begin from your ribcage, he goes lower and sideways, placing kisses on your abdomen that tenses as his lips get closer to where you want him the most. He flashes you a sly smile before placing the gentlest of kiss on your clit. As if that isn't enough to make you wet, he lands a few licks between your folds and drags his tongue upward only to swirls it around your clit and finishes it with another kiss on your clit, briefly sucking at it before letting go.

“I'm going in, yeah?”

You nod in consent, opening your legs wider for him and trying not to stare too much as Hyunjin will only stare back at you, and you'll likely crumble under his intense gaze.

“Oh...” you bite back a gasp the second you feel him entering you, just the tip but you can already feel that his size is above average.

Hyunjin props his hands on each side of you, deciding to hover above you as he pushes the rest of his length by motioning his hips. In this proximity, you can see the way his pupils gradually dilated and his eyelids fluttering the more of him being inside you. Overwhelmed, Hyunjin throws his head back and pushes the rest of his cock until he's fully sheathed in your warm, velvety walls.

“Argh...” his moan raw and broken as if something wounded him.

The world feels suspended, reduced to just the two of you and the quiet rhythm of your breaths. His bare skin glows in the dim of the light, the contours of his body sculpted with an almost otherworldly beauty.

As he thrusts into you at a slow, steady pace, you reach up, your fingers tracing the elegant lines of his collarbone, the smooth expanse of his chest. Every touch feels like discovering him for the first time, each detail making your heart ache with something too profound to name.

“You’re staring,” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice soft, almost teasing, though a faint blush colors his cheeks.

“Can you blame me?” you whisper, your voice filled with awe as your fingers trail over the curve of his shoulder. “You’re so beautiful, Hyunjin.”

His lips twitch into a small, shy smile, but his eyes stay locked on yours, filled with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You make me feel like I’m more than I am,” he says quietly, the vulnerability in his voice wrapping around you.

You shake your head, your hand sliding to the slope of his waist, marveling at how perfectly he fits into the moment, into you. “No,” you whisper. “You’re exactly as you are. And that’s perfect.”

He lowers himself slightly, his long hair brushing against your skin as his lips hover near yours. Your hands continue their exploration, tracing the ridges of his ribs, the softness of his hips, and the strength of his arms as they're now propped in each side of your head.

“You’re not real,” you murmur, your fingertips brushing along his jaw, marveling at how soft yet strong he feels. “You can’t be.”

Hyunjin laughs softly, the sound vibrating through both of you. “I’m real,” he assures you, lowering his lips to brush against yours in a kiss that feels as light as air. “But if I’m not,” he whispers against your mouth, “then I’m glad I get to exist in this moment with you.”

Your hand finds his face, cupping his cheek as you pull him down into a deeper kiss, your body pressing against his as if to anchor him to the earth, to you. And in this moment, as you touch and hold and feel him, you believe in the magic of him, in the impossibility made real, and in the fleeting beauty of this shared, perfect moment.

The rest of the night unfolds in whispers and warmth, every touch and movement filled with quiet intimacy. There’s no rush, no urgency, just the two of you discovering and rediscovering each other, as if this fleeting moment is all that matters.

Eventually, the room falls into a soft silence, broken only by the sound of your breathing. Hyunjin’s arm wraps around you, pulling you into the curve of his body. His hand rests lightly against your waist, his thumb drawing lazy patterns on your skin.

In the stillness, he presses a lingering kiss to the crown of your head. “You’re remarkable too,” he murmurs, his voice low and laced with sincerity.

A small smile tugs at your lips, and you nestle closer to him, your fingers brushing against his. For the first time, the weight of the day seems to lift, leaving only this shared moment, this connection, that feels infinite despite the inevitable.

-

02:59 a.m.

The early dawn filters softly through the curtains, casting a bluish glow over the room as you lay next to Hyunjin, your head resting on his arm while his other hand lazily traces small patterns along your back. His warmth surrounds you, and for a moment, the world feels still and quiet.

With a curious smile, you tilt your head to look up at him. “Hyunjin?” you call softly, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Hyunjin turns his head to the side and softly gazes into your eyes. “Yeah?”

“What would your perfect day look like?”

Hyunjin grins, a playful gleam in his eyes. “This,” he says, gesturing to the two of you tangled together under the covers. “Right here, right now. Best way to be found dead.”

You laugh and gently swat at his chest, shaking your head. “Stop saying things like that,” you scold, though the smile on your face betrays your amusement. “I want a serious answer.”

Hyunjin hums thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling as he considers. “Okay,” he finally says. “I’d start the day early, maybe before sunrise. I’d drive to this lake I used to visit when I was younger. It’s peaceful, surrounded by trees, and the water’s always so calm in the morning.” His voice softens as he speaks, a hint of nostalgia coloring his words. “It must be beautiful this time of year.”

You shift slightly, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at him. “Is it far?”

“Not too far,” Hyunjin replies, turning his head to meet your gaze. “About two hours by car.”

A spark of determination lights up in your eyes, and you sit up, pulling the blanket with you. “Then let’s go,” you declare, your voice filled with excitement. “Let’s create a perfect day. It’s the last chance we have, so why not make it count?”

Hyunjin looks up at you, his expression softening as his lips curve into a tender smile. For a moment, he says nothing, just gazes at you like you’ve just handed him the world.

“No, let’s just stay here. It's perfect like this,” Hyunjin says with a sly grin.

You gently slap his chest and whine, hoping to put some senses into him.

Slowly, he sits up, leaning closer until his lips brush against yours in a kiss so gentle it feels like a promise. When he pulls back, his face lingers close to yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Okay. Let’s do it,” he murmurs, his voice low but steady. “Let’s go.”

-

03:25 a.m.

Hyunjin is scribbling something on a piece of paper when you return, holding two bags of snacks and drinks from the convenience store. The way his brow furrows slightly in concentration catches your attention, and you pause for a moment, noticing he's using your red hairtie to tie his hair into a low ponytail and engrossed on writing something on a piece of paper.

You step closer and knock on the windshield, grinning as his head snaps up, startled. His wide eyes make you laugh, the sound light and teasing as you shake your head. He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance but leans over to push the car door open for you.

“Need help with those?” he asks, already reaching for the bags in your hands.

“Thanks,” you say, handing them over as he places them neatly in the backseat.

“Did you get everything?” he asks, glancing at the bags.

You nod. “Yep, all set.” Then, reaching into your pocket, you pull out something small and hold it up. “Oh, and this,” you add with a smile.

Hyunjin tilts his head, curious. “What’s that?”

“For you,” you say, showing him the little star-shaped pin in your hand. “Your reward for breaking your time record today.”

His expression shifts, his gaze softening as he looks at the pin. A smile spreads slowly across his face, and for a moment, he doesn’t say anything.

Without waiting, you lean in and carefully attach the pin to the lapel of his jacket. “There,” you say, stepping back slightly to admire your work. “Congratulations, Hyunjin.”

He looks down at the pin, his smile widening, and when his gaze lifts to meet yours, there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “You're not going to kiss me?” he asks, his voice teasing yet warm.

You let out a soft laugh and lean in, brushing a quick kiss against his lips. But before you can fully pull away, Hyunjin’s hand comes up to the back of your neck, and he pulls you in for another kiss—deeper, slower.

You giggle against his lips, your laughter muffled between you, and he smiles into the kiss before finally pulling back. The warmth in his gaze lingers, leaving you breathless and smiling.

“Alright,” he says, settling back into his seat and starting the car. “Shall we?”

You buckle your seatbelt, excitement bubbling up as you nod. “Ready when you are.”

Hyunjin glances at you, his own excitement mirrored in his expression. “Alright, here we go,” he says, pulling out of the parking lot, the perfect day waiting just ahead.

-

04:11 a.m.

The hum of the car fills the air as you and Hyunjin drive down the winding road, the sun rising higher with each passing mile. You’re both relaxed, trading stories and laughing as a small mountain of snack wrappers begins to pile up between you. Hyunjin occasionally glances your way, his smile soft but constant, as if the moment itself feels too perfect to break.

Reaching into the bag beside you, you pull out a can of soda and hand it to him. “Here,” you say, passing it over without thinking.

Hyunjin takes it with one hand, his other still loosely gripping the steering wheel. As he shifts his attention to crack the tab open, the can slips from his fingers. The drink spills across the front of his t-shirt in an instant, cold liquid spreading like a stain across the fabric.

“Ah, shit!” Hyunjin exclaims, pulling the car slightly to the side as you grab a handful of tissues.

“Hold still,” you say, leaning over to help dab at the spill.

Hyunjin laughs, the sound tinged with embarrassment as he attempts to help, both of your hands awkwardly brushing against each other. “You’re worse at this than me,” he teases.

“Hey, it’s your fault for spilling in the first place!” you counter, trying to keep your tone light as you both focus on cleaning up the mess.

But then it happens—Hyunjin’s attention strays too long from the road, and neither of you notice the dog suddenly darting into the street.

“Hyunjin!” you scream, your voice sharp with panic as your hand instinctively shoots out to grab his arm.

His eyes snap forward, and his body reacts instantly. The tires screech against the asphalt as he slams on the brakes, the force jerking both of you against your seatbelts. The world feels as though it’s spinning for a second, the weight of the abrupt stop pressing hard against your chest.

The car comes to a halt just inches away from the small, trembling dog, its wide eyes staring at you through the windshield.

Your heart is racing, your breaths shallow and shaky as you sit frozen, staring out at the still figure on the road. Hyunjin grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white as he exhales a shaky breath.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and thick with concern.

You nod numbly, your voice catching in your throat as you try to answer. “Y-yeah. Are you?”

He glances at you, his expression softening when he sees your trembling hands. “I’m fine,” he assures you, though his voice is quieter now, more careful.

The two of you sit in silence for a long moment, the sound of your racing hearts almost audible in the stillness. Then, Hyunjin glances at the dog, who scampers away unscathed, disappearing into the brush.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice cracking slightly as he turns to face you fully.

You shake your head quickly, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault,” you say, though the adrenaline coursing through your veins makes your words waver.

Hyunjin’s hand hesitates for a moment before it finds yours, his fingers squeezing gently. “We’re okay,” he whispers, almost as if convincing himself.

You nod again, letting out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, we are.”

As the car slowly starts moving again, the tension lingers, but there’s a quiet understanding between you—a shared moment that feels heavier than words, as if both of you silently acknowledge how fragile this perfect day could have been.

-

05:22 a.m.

The car ride is quiet now, the earlier tension still lingering in the air. Neither of you speak for a while, each lost in your thoughts as the road stretches ahead. The sun begins to crest over the horizon, its warm light spilling across the landscape, painting the morning in hues of gold and soft pink.

You reach for the window switch and roll it down, letting the cool morning breeze rush into the car. It sweeps through your hair, refreshing and light, and you close your eyes for a moment, letting the sensation calm your nerves.

When you glance over at Hyunjin, he’s already looking at you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You can’t help but smile back, warmth blooming in your chest despite the chill of the breeze.

“Look at the sky,” you say softly, nodding toward the view. “It’s beautiful.”

Hyunjin tears his gaze from you, his eyes following your gesture. The sky is breathtaking, streaked with the first slivers of sunlight that break through the faint morning mist.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice low and reflective. “It is.”

His hand leaves the steering wheel, searching for yours. When he finds it, he laces his fingers with yours and rests them gently on his lap. His touch is warm and grounding, a silent reassurance that everything is okay now.

Hyunjin keeps his eyes on the horizon, the soft glow of the sun reflecting in his gaze. “It’s beautiful,” he repeats, but this time, his voice is heavier, almost wistful, as if he’s savoring the moment in a way he never has before.

You tighten your hold on his hand, the simple gesture conveying what words can’t. Together, you sit in the quiet, watching the morning unfold, the world outside feeling peaceful and endless as the car moves forward.

-

05:40 a.m.

The car comes to a halt, and you step out into the crisp morning air. Hyunjin joins you, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh. You glance around, the scent of pine and damp earth filling your lungs as you take in the scenery.

After a short walk, the lake comes into view, and you gasp, unable to contain your amazement. The water is perfectly still, a mirror reflecting the sky and the towering trees surrounding it. The faint golden light of the morning casts everything in a dreamy glow. The trees, just beginning to turn with the season, stand like silent sentinels guarding this little piece of paradise.

“Wow,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the soft rustling of leaves.

Hyunjin looks at you, his smile growing at your reaction. He reaches for your hand and takes it, his fingers warm and steady against yours. “Come on,” he says, leading you toward the water’s edge.

The two of you stop just where the land kisses the lake. You peer down at the water, its surface so calm it feels like stepping into a painting.

“It must be freezing,” you say, giving Hyunjin a wary glance.

He narrows his eyes playfully. “That’s what makes it perfect for a morning swim.”

You shake your head firmly, taking a step back. “No way.”

Hyunjin laughs, undeterred. “Trust me. Once you’re in, it’s not that bad.”

You laugh nervously, shaking your head again. “Hyunjin, I still can’t swim, remember?”

His expression softens, and he takes both of your hands in his. “And I told you— No worries, I’ll hold you.” His tone is earnest, his dark eyes unwavering.

Despite your protests, he’s relentless, coaxing you closer to the edge until you’re standing there, shivering slightly in your underwear. You grip his hand tightly, trying one last time to dissuade him.

“Hyunjin, I’m serious—”

Before you can finish, he sweeps you off your feet, his arms locking around your waist. You let out a startled squeal, clinging to him instinctively.

“Hyunjin, don’t you dare—”

But it’s too late. He steps into the water, pulling you with him. The cold shocks your body the second you make contact, and you scream, the sound piercing through the stillness of the lake.

Hyunjin doesn’t stop until the two of you are submerged waist-deep. You’re clinging to him for dear life, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, your legs curling up to avoid the icy water.

“See? It’s not as bad as you think,” he says, his voice light with amusement as he looks down at you.

Your teeth are chattering, and you tighten your hold on him. “You’re right,” you say through gritted teeth. “It’s worse than I thought it would be.”

Hyunjin throws his head back and laughs, his warm breath misting in the cool air. The sound is infectious, and soon you’re laughing too, your voices echoing across the serene lake.

He then adjusts your arms around his shoulders and gives you an encouraging look. “Hold on tight,” he says, his voice warm with reassurance. You do as he says, gripping him as he begins to move through the water with ease.

The cold from earlier feels less harsh now, your body gradually adapting to the temperature. As Hyunjin swims farther from the shore, you cling to him, feeling the strength in his movements as he effortlessly cuts through the water.

“Not so bad now, huh?” he teases, glancing over his shoulder.

You roll your eyes but can’t help a small smile. “I’m still debating.”

When he slows down, you notice just how far you’ve come from the shore. The lake stretches around you, a perfect circle of serenity framed by towering trees. Hyunjin turns to face you, still holding you securely as you float together.

“Relax,” he says, his voice softer now. His hands guide you gently, helping you stay afloat. You take a deep breath and allow yourself to loosen your grip, trusting him.

The stillness of the moment washes over you as you look around. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the calm water under the open sky. The reflection of the trees and clouds ripples gently with every movement.

“Still as bad as you think?” Hyunjin asks, a playful glint in his eyes.

You shrug, pretending to be unimpressed. “It’s... alright, I guess.”

Hyunjin bursts out laughing, his joy infectious as it echoes across the lake. He leans in slightly, his arms finding their way around your waist. Before you can react, he pulls you down with him, both of you plunging beneath the surface.

The cold water shocks you as it rushes over your head, and you instinctively hold your breath. A moment later, you break the surface, gasping for air.

“Hyunjin!” you sputter, wiping water from your face. “What was that for?”

He’s already laughing, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. “You should’ve seen your face!”

You glare at him, about to launch into a scolding, but he interrupts by cupping your face in his hands and pulling you into a kiss.

Your protest dies on your lips, muffled by his. You try to hold on to your indignation, muttering complaints against his mouth, but his kiss is too warm, too insistent. Eventually, you give in, melting against him as his laughter hums through the connection.

When you finally pull away, Hyunjin grins at you, water dripping from his face. “Still want to complain?”

You shake your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “You’re lucky I can’t swim away from you right now.”

“Exactly,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours. “That’s why I had to bring you out here.”

The water is cold, but in this moment, surrounded by the beauty of the lake and the warmth of Hyunjin’s arms, you’ve never felt more alive.

-

06:21 a.m.

The sun climbs higher into the sky, warming your skin as you sit on the smooth rocks by the shore, your clothes drying slowly in the gentle breeze. Hyunjin’s jacket is draped over your shoulders, a welcome layer against the cool air still lingering from your swim. You glance at him and murmur your thanks, to which he responds with a small, warm smile.

Opening a can of soda, you take a sip, the drink now lukewarm but refreshing nonetheless. You tilt your head toward Hyunjin. “So, what’s next on your perfect day itinerary?”

Hyunjin sets his can down and grins, his eyes lighting up with boyish excitement. “There’s this diner I used to go to. It’s not too far from here. They make the best waffles.”

“Waffles, huh?” you ask, raising a brow, though his enthusiasm already has you smiling.

“They’re amazing,” he insists, his hands gesturing animatedly. “Crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside, with this maple syrup that’s just—” He sighs in exaggerated bliss, making you laugh.

“Alright, alright,” you say, holding up your hands. “I’m sold. Waffles it is.”

Hyunjin chuckles and shifts closer, his hand reaching up to brush a damp strand of hair from your face. His touch is gentle, his fingers lingering for a moment before he tucks the strand behind your ear. Without a word, he leans in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that’s soft and slow, like the morning sun warming your skin.

When he pulls back, his smile is tender, and it makes your heart ache. “I'm glad I met you.”

“Me too,” you say back while placing your hand on his and hold it tightly.

The sunlight hits right on Hyunjin’s eyes, making them shine as he stares at you. You know you've only known him for barely a day but Hyunjin knows things most people doesn't know about you. He knows your prefers your flowers to be red than blue, he knows your dreams you never say out loud but you secretly wish to come true and that makes you feel significant to him as he is significant to you. You believe that is how Hyunjin going to make a mark on you.

“I’m going to take one more lap around the lake before we go,” he says, his voice quiet yet certain.

You nod, but before he can move, you catch his wrist, pulling him back toward you. This time, it’s you who closes the distance, pressing a kiss to his lips. It lingers, a silent plea that feels like it’s carrying the weight of everything you can’t say aloud. You wish for more time—just one more day, one more perfect morning.

Hyunjin seems to sense it, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek as he gazes at you, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. He leans in to press a featherlight kiss to your lips before pulling away completely.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a wink, his voice lighter now. “I won’t take too long.”

As you watch him dive back into the water, the sunlight catching on the ripples he leaves behind, you feel a fleeting, impossible sense of forever. For this moment, at least, Hyunjin makes you believe that forever is within grasp.

-

06:51 a.m.

The warmth of the morning sun wraps around you, its gentle rays brushing against your damp skin. The sky is alive with soft hues of gold and blue, a masterpiece unfolding before your eyes. Overhead, a flock of birds glides effortlessly, their formation cutting gracefully through the stillness. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to marvel at it all—the simplicity, the beauty, the life you’ve taken for granted.

But the moment fractures.

You glance toward the lake, expecting to find Hyunjin slicing through the water, to hear the rhythmic splashes that have become so familiar. Instead, there is only silence. The lake mirrors the sky, undisturbed, serene, and empty.

A flicker of unease takes root in your chest. You scan the shoreline, your gaze darting to every shadow, every ripple. The stillness feels wrong now.

“Hyunjin?” you call out, your voice tentative, breaking the quiet.

No answer.

You step closer to the edge, the cool rocks pressing into your bare feet, your heart beginning to pound against your ribcage. “Hyunjin,” you try again, louder this time, but the name hangs in the air unanswered.

The warmth of the morning sun seems to mock you now, its gentle rays brushing against your damp skin as the sky stretches overhead, a canvas of soft gold and endless blue. The flock of birds that once felt like a sign of life now drifts aimlessly, their formation a cruel reminder of how fragile everything truly is.

You glance toward the lake, expecting to find him slicing through the water, his laughter echoing in the stillness. Instead, there is only silence. The lake reflects the sky perfectly, undisturbed, as if it had swallowed him whole and left no trace.

Your chest tightens. “Hyunjin?” you call out, your voice soft at first, hesitant to break the quiet.

No answer.

You step closer to the edge, the rocks digging into your bare feet as your pulse quickens. “Hyunjin,” you try again, louder this time, your voice trembling. But the name dissipates into the air, unanswered.

A flicker of unease blooms into full-blown panic. You scan the water frantically, your eyes darting across every ripple, every shadow. “This isn’t funny!” you yell, your voice rising with desperation. “If you’re hiding, just stop it and come out!”

Still nothing.

Fear grips you like a vice, and before you can stop yourself, you wade into the water. The cold seeps through your skin, biting and relentless, but you don’t care. You splash forward, the ripples spreading around you, as though trying to reach him through sheer force of will.

“Hyunjin!” you scream, your voice cracking under the weight of your fear. “Answer me!”

The water clings to you, dragging you down as if conspiring with your helplessness. You tread forward a little more, but you can’t go far. Your feet leave the ground, and you freeze, paralyzed by the sudden depth. You try to push forward, but your body resists—muscles locking up with the knowledge that you can’t swim.

Frustration and panic mix into a volatile cocktail in your chest. You slap the water with your hands, gasping for breath, tears streaming as you scream his name again.

“I can’t do this! Hyunjin!” you cry out, the words breaking apart into sobs. The lake offers no comfort, its silence an unbearable void. You flail for a moment, trying to search the surface, but every movement feels futile.

You cling to the thought of him, to his smile, his laughter, the warmth he carried with him like a shield against the world. But now, that warmth feels so far away, unreachable in the depths of the water.

“Hyunjin!” you cry again, weaker this time, the weight of your helplessness pressing down on you. You force yourself back toward the shore, stumbling onto the rocks as you collapse to your knees, breathless and shaking. “Please, don't— don't leave me...”

The water stills behind you, its surface reflecting the endless morning sky. You look out at it, broken and trembling, your heart refusing to accept what your mind is beginning to believe. It can’t be over. Not like this.

“Hyunjin...”

-

08:01 a.m.

The rocks beneath you feel sharp, unforgiving, but you barely notice. You sit there, knees pulled tight to your chest, your damp clothes clinging to your skin as you watch the rescue team comb through the lake. Every moment stretches painfully, the weight of silence crushing you with each passing second.

Your fingers dig into your arms as if grounding yourself can keep you from unraveling completely. Then, a shout echoes from the water. You see them—a group of rescuers—working together to pull a body from the depths.

Your breath catches in your throat.

They move with careful precision, carrying the body to shore in a black bag. You feel your body trembling uncontrollably as they approach. One of them steps forward, their expression solemn, as they lower the bag in front of you.

"Is this him?" they ask, their voice heavy with the weight of what they know must be unbearable.

You freeze, staring at the zipper of the bag, your entire being screaming to look and yet refusing at the same time. You can’t do it. You can’t see him like that.

But then your eyes catch something—a flash of red against the black. It’s your hair tie, wrapped around his wrist. You had given it to him, smiling at how absurdly adorable he’d looked wearing it. And now, it’s the confirmation you never wanted.

Your breath hitches as tears flood your vision. "It’s him," you whisper, the words breaking apart as they leave your lips.

Slowly, you reach out, your trembling hand finding his through the body bag.

With shaking fingers, you reach at the lapel of his jacket you're wearing and take off the star-shaped pin, the one you had given him just hours ago. It glints faintly in the sunlight, a small reminder of the joy he carried with him. Carefully, you place it in his palm and fold his fingers around it.

"Keep it," you say softly, tears dripping onto the bag. "It’s yours."

It’s cold—his hand is so cold it sends a shiver through you. But you hold it tight, pressing his lifeless hand to your lips. "Wait for me," you murmur, your voice cracking as the tears spill over. "I’ll see you soon, Hyunjin."

You step back as they zip the bag closed, sealing him away from you forever. The sound cuts through the air like a blade, leaving you raw and hollow.

The ambulance arrives, and they load his body inside. You stand there, watching, your hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. As the vehicle pulls away, your fingers brush against something—a folded piece of paper.

Curious and aching, you pull it out and unfold it with trembling hands. It’s his handwriting, messy but unmistakably his. A list of things he wanted to do today.

Swim in the lake.

Watch the sunrise.

Have waffles for breakfast.

Visit the art gallery.

Hot cocoa at the park.

The last line reads, Buy roses for...

Your lips tremble as you remember the promise you’d made to each other—the promise to keep moving forward, no matter who went first. The memory feels like a cruel joke now, but as you stare at his words, something inside you hardens.

You swallow the lump in your throat, your voice barely above a whisper as you say to the empty air, "I’m keeping my promise, Hyunjin."

The ambulance disappears down the road, and you stand there, the morning sun casting long shadows around you. Still, you refuse to believe that Hyunjin’s gone. He is not, he just goes to sleep to live a new dream.

-

09:14 a.m.

You sit in the corner booth of the diner, the same one Hyunjin had gushed about just hours ago. The waffles arrive, golden and drenched in syrup, the butter melting into small pools on the plate. You take a bite, the sweetness coating your tongue, but it tastes hollow. Your chest tightens as you remember how Hyunjin’s eyes had sparkled when he described them to you, as though they were a treasure worth crossing the world for.

Now, it feels like swallowing shards of glass.

The drive back to the city is quiet, the hum of the engine filling the void Hyunjin once occupied. His note sits folded on the passenger seat, a reminder of the day you’re piecing together without him. You glance at it at every stoplight, as if his handwriting might come alive and guide you forward.

Your next stop is the art gallery. You find his favorite painting almost instinctively, a swirling masterpiece of color and emotion. Sitting on the bench before it, you let your mind wander. You picture Hyunjin here, standing with his hands clasped behind his back, his head tilted slightly as he studied the strokes.

"Do you see how the colors bleed into each other?" he would say. "It’s chaotic but still… perfect."

The memory slices through you, and you blink away the tears that threaten to spill.

From the gallery, you walk to a nearby café, the warmth of the cup of hot cocoa in your hands doing little to soothe the chill in your heart. You sit on a bench overlooking the river, the city split in two by its calm flow. The world moves on around you—people walking their dogs, children laughing in the distance—but you’re trapped in stillness.

You think of Hyunjin, of how he was alive and laughing mere hours ago. You think of his voice, his touch, the way he could make the ordinary feel extraordinary.

And now he’s gone.

For the first time, anger stirs beneath your grief. It rises like a storm, raw and uncontrollable. You clench the cup tightly, your knuckles whitening. How could death be so cruel? How could it take someone so vibrant and leave you tethered to feelings that have nowhere to go?

Death is so unfair. It takes the person, but not the love.

-

04:02 p.m.

The world has grown quiet around you, the buzz of the city dimmed to a distant hum as you sit alone on a park bench overlooking the river. The sun dips low in the sky, painting the water with hues of gold and amber. You clutch Hyunjin's jacket tighter around your shoulders, the scent of him still lingering faintly, a bittersweet reminder of everything you've lost—and everything you're about to gain.

The list he left behind is tucked into your pocket, crumpled and worn from your grip throughout the day. You pull it out, scanning the list. There’s only one thing left, unfinished: “Buys roses for…”

He hadn’t finished the sentence. You remember startling him as he jotted it down, and now the incomplete thought feels like a cruel echo. But you know what to do.

You find the nearest florist and step inside, the smell of flowers overwhelming you. "Roses," you tell the florist, your voice quiet but firm. "A bouquet of red roses."

They hand you the bouquet, the petals deep and vibrant, reminiscent of Hyunjin’s flushed cheeks and his soft lips. You trace a fingertip over the delicate blooms before asking for a card.

Sitting at a small table in the corner of the shop, you stare at the blank card. The weight of all you want to say crushes you, an endless stream of emotions that can’t possibly fit onto a single piece of paper.

Still, you write:

For what it’s worth, you showed me that there is such a thing as a perfect day. You made a mark on me, Hyunjin.

Your hand shakes as you finish the words. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to steady yourself, willing the tears to stay at bay. When you’re ready, you fold the card and slip it into the bouquet.

You stand at the corner of the street, clutching the bouquet of roses close to your chest as you wait for the light to turn. The city hums around you, alive and indifferent, the world moving on as it always does. But your mind drifts elsewhere, carried away by memories.

This was the place you met Hyunjin for the first time. You can almost see him standing there, smiling like the world belonged to him. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet so vivid it could have been yesterday. You replay the moment in your mind, the way he held himself with an effortless grace, the way his eyes met yours and lingered, as if he'd been waiting for you his entire life.

The light changes, and the crowd around you begins to move. Lost in your thoughts, you follow them, stepping onto the street.

A distant sound reaches your ears—a horn blaring, tires screeching—but it feels far away, as if it belongs to another world. By the time you register the rushing car, it’s too late. There’s no time to scream, no time to run.

This is it.

-

06:11 p.m.

The world comes back to you in fragments: the cool roughness of asphalt beneath your body, the distant murmur of voices, the sharp tang of blood in the air. Your vision swims, but when it clears, the twilight sky is the first thing you see.

It’s beautiful, painted in hues of lavender and gold, with the faintest blush of pink at the edges. The sight feels distant yet oddly comforting, like a gentle reminder of where you are—and where you’re going.

Your body is heavy, the pain a dull throb that seems to ebb and flow, fading as the seconds stretch on. You’re dimly aware of the rose petals scattered around you, spinning lazily in the air with every gust of wind. They look like they’re floating, as if gravity itself has softened its grip.

You close your eyes briefly and feel something shift inside you—a strange sense of clarity. This is it. You know it, feel it in your very bones. This is your ending.

But there’s no fear. Instead, a deep, resounding calm washes over you, carrying with it the promise of reunion. Hyunjin’s face fills your mind, vivid and bright, his laughter echoing in your ears, his touch still lingering on your skin.

You force your eyes open again, taking in the petals that now rest lightly against your arm, the faint scent of roses mingling with the cool evening air. A soft smile tugs at your lips, even as your breaths come slower, shallower.

Death is not an end, you think. It’s a reunion. It’s a promise kept. It’s my happy ending.

Somewhere in the distance, you hear sirens, but they feel like they belong to another world entirely. You’re beyond that now. Your heart slows, the pain dulls, and in its place is an overwhelming sense of peace.

The light in the sky begins to blur, stars flickering faintly above as if welcoming you home. You can almost feel him, his hand in yours, his voice calling your name like a melody you’ve always known.

Tears slip down your cheeks, but they’re not from sorrow. They’re from relief, from the quiet joy of knowing you’ll see him again, touch him again, love him again.

As the world fades, you exhale one last time, your voice barely a whisper in the wind. “I’m coming, Hyunjin.”

And then there’s nothing but light.

-

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[seulgisqt]

𝐏𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 — alexia putellas

alexia putellas x golfer!fem!reader

(a/n: had this in the drafts for months whilst uni was taking me out, inspired by literally watching one tournament and I thought of football?? well yes!)

word count: 1559

genre: fluff

summary: their meet-cute begins with a missed golf rule and ends with exchanged numbers and quiet smiles

Alexia wasn’t entirely sure why she said yes.

Well, she knew why. It was for charity. Something about raising awareness for girls’ sports and increasing visibility for women athletes. She was all for it. But as she stood on the edge of the green in all-black casuals, looking vaguely lost with a cold water bottle clutched between both hands, she couldn’t help but think: This isn’t my turf.

She didn’t even like golf.

The silence was unnerving. No roaring crowds. No studs on the grass. Just polite claps, murmurs, and the distant mechanical hum of cameras and golf carts.

Here, your concentration was unwavering.

The sun blazed high in the azure sky above the Marbella golf course, its golden rays bathing the immaculately trimmed fairways in a warm, inviting glow. Despite the heat radiating from the ground, you felt a cool, calmness enveloping you. Your gaze was locked on the bright white dimpled ball nestled in the emerald grass, and your feet planted firmly on the lush turf, a sense of stability grounding you. With each measured breath, you felt the rhythm of the game pulsing through you.

Then came the moment: you executed a flawless swing. The club connected with the ball with a resounding crack, a sound that echoed in the stillness of the course. The ball rocketed off the tee, soaring high into the sky before gliding straight down the fairway, drawing appreciative applause from the onlookers who had gathered to witness your skill.

It was your third tournament win this season. You were on top of your game, and nothing distracted you—not the pressure, not the cameras, not even the occasional celebrity faces appearing along the ropes to watch. 

But today…there was a distraction. Or rather, someone unexpected.

You spotted her near the 12th green. She was impossible to miss, not because she was a household name—though she certainly was—but rather because of the air of uncertainty about her. Clad in a stylish outfit that seemed almost too casual for the prestigious surroundings, she wore oversized sunglasses that suggested she preferred to blend into the crowd. Yet, no amount of disguise could mask her presence. 

It was the way she carried herself that caught your attention. She appeared somewhat lost, her posture a bit too rigid, like a traveller navigating an unfamiliar landscape, searching for a place to belong. 

Alexia Putellas. 

The captain of FC Barcelona Femení. A revered icon of the national team. She was nothing short of football royalty, yet here she was, mingling among the spectators as just another guest of one of the tournament’s sponsors.

As you glanced in her direction, your eyes met for a fleeting moment—a mere accident—and in that instant, she quickly diverted her gaze, a hint of embarrassment flickering across her face, as if she had been caught in a private moment she wasn't meant to share.

That small interaction brought a smile to your lips.

After the exhilarating round of play, with the excitement of interviews and the celebratory flash of trophy photos still fresh in your mind, you strolled back towards the players’ lounge. The atmosphere was alive with chatter and laughter, yet you weren’t expecting to cross paths with her again. As you rounded the corner near the refreshments table—the scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air—there she was. 

She stood there, seemingly lost in her own world, a tiny paper cup of steaming espresso cradled delicately in her hands. The rich aroma of the coffee curled around her, but her focus was solely on the glowing screen of her phone, her brow slightly furrowed as if seeking an escape route from the thrumming energy of the crowd. The soft glow illuminated her features, highlighting her intensity and the cascade of hair that framed her face. In that charged moment, the bustling lounge faded away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of possibility, igniting a surge of anticipation within you.

“You look like someone who just googled ‘golf rules for beginners,’” you remarked, noticing her slightly bewildered expression as she studied the course.

Alexia was taken aback for a moment but then a slow smile crept across her face, illuminating her features. “Guilty as charged. I didn’t realise it would be this tranquil out here.”

“There’s not much in the way of crowd noise where we play,” you replied, leaning casually against the edge of a wooden table, which looked like it had seen many rounds of golf discussions. “We’re more about suffering in silence.”

She chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You were amazing, by the way. That last putt you made, was absolutely ice cold.”

You smiled, a little proud of the compliment. “Thanks. You’re not too shabby either, judging from what I’ve seen on the field.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow and smirked playfully. “So, you’ve been watching me play, huh?”

“More than once,” you admitted with a wink. “I’m a fan of Barça.”

As the realisation hit her, a faint blush crept onto her cheeks, contrasting beautifully with her sun-kissed skin. “Oh, I’m sorry! I should’ve introduced myself properly. I’m Alexia.”

“I know, I’m—” you replied, a smile growing on your lips.

“I know who you are. It’s just…” Her grin turned a touch sheepish, and she bit her lip in a lighthearted way. “I might’ve caught a few highlights last night, trying to wrap my head around what I was getting into today.”

Her admission caught you off guard, prompting a genuine laugh. “And? Did that help at all?”

“Not really. I still can’t wrap my head around why there are five distinct types of clubs,” she said, a hint of confusion in her voice.

“Well, I could certainly break it down for you,” you replied, a playful glint in your eye. “But I can't promise that my explanation will be the most thrilling of narratives.”

“Lay it on me,” she challenged, her curiosity piqued.

You found yourself comfortably settled on a rustic wooden bench, positioned on the sun-drenched patio just outside the lounge. The gentle warmth of the breeze playfully caressed your hair, momentarily distracting you as you endeavoured to articulate the nuances of golf's various clubs—hybrids, irons, woods, wedges, and putters—with the precision of an athlete and just the right sprinkling of metaphors to elicit laughter from her. She leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, hanging on your every word. Occasionally, she would interject with thought-provoking questions that compelled you to reconsider the familiar concepts you had long taken for granted.

It was oddly refreshing.

Eventually, your conversation meandered, slipping away from golf and into everything else. Favourite training meals. Worst weather you’ve ever played in. Alexia’s obsession with peanut butter and oat bowls. Your childhood fear of putting in front of strangers. Her tendency to watch motivational videos at 3am before matches. Your inability to sleep before big tournaments.

Then, in a moment of playful teasing, she nudged you gently with her shoulder and asked, “Does this happen every time you win? You charm footballers with golf analogies?”

You raised an inquisitive eyebrow, a grin creeping onto your face. “Only the ones who seem ready to bolt after we reach the fifth hole.” 

“Well, lucky for me, I hung around,” she smiled, brimming with warmth. Before you realised it, the words tumbled out unguarded: “Me too.”

There was a quiet beat between you then. Comfortable. Curious.

Alexia tilted her head. “Hey, can I ask something kind of weird?”

“Sure.”

“What do golfers do when they’re not competing? I mean, are you always training?”

You thought about it. “Not always. Sometimes we try not to be golfers at all. Go for walks. Cook. Watch sports we don’t understand.”

“Football?” she teased.

“Exactly.”

Her grin widened, revealing a hint of excitement. “Well, if you ever want an insider's tour of Camp Nou, count me in. I promise to provide excellent commentary.” 

“Is that so?” you asked, feigning seriousness.

“Oh yes,” the Spaniard asserted with a mock gravitas. “You’ll get the full experience—very professional. Expect plenty of jokes and absolutely zero accuracy in what I say!”

“I’d like that,” you replied, a chuckle escaping your lips.

“Good,” she said, her voice dropping to a soft, inviting tone that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. “Because I’d love to see you again. Away from the golf course. Somewhere with a bit more energy, maybe.”

You feigned deep contemplation, smiling mischievously. “Hmm, but what if my only skill is being effortlessly cool and graceful out on the green?”

“Oh, you can manage to be awkward too,” she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I promise, I’ll still like you all the same.”

The following morning brought a delightful surprise—a text from her featuring a whimsical picture of a shiny golf ball perched inside a steaming cup of coffee, with the caption: I think I’ve finally figured out what a hole-in-one means.

A broad smile spread across your face as you gazed at the screen, your fingers quickly flying over the keyboard to reply: Keep that up, and I might just consider letting you caddy for me on my next game.

And in that lighthearted exchange, something quietly significant flickered to life between you—perhaps it was unexpected, but it felt precisely right, as if it had fallen into place just when it was meant to.

[httyddragonfox]

Saeran Personas: all their regards towards you.

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]

Unknown: He thinks we're cute, and wants to help us as well as have us be useful to him. He sees us as his responsibility as well as the fact since he saw us first, he gets dibs. He sees us as his ally or tool, and he would like to have us as a companion, especially if we're like him and have a dark broken side. Of course we can't come in between him and his revenge.

Ray: You can say that Ray appreciates us as someone helpful and trusting, someone who won't betray him. He obsessed of the idea of us, but as he got to know us more he became more possessive over who we really were. We were a new friend for him, someone who would help him and listen to him and care for him. He wants to be a better man for us, but he he also wants to "protect" us from what he perceives as threats. When he doesn't do enough or thinks we hate him, he hates himself too.

Unknown (V route): I believe Unknown here regards us similarly to how Saeran regards us in the Ray route, as someone to "play" with. He could vent to us all he wishes, mess around with us, even hurt or scare us if he's frustrated. I think he wants a "companion," someone to sit in the room with him, maybe help him should he require it.

Saeran (Ray Route): He likes you, but he doesn't want to show it. He feels threatened by your interest in him, so he decides to approach you while also keeping himself away; he chooses to do this by abusing you. He wishes to prove again and again that your views are wrong about who he should be, that way you can't threaten him anymore.

Saeran: his final form considers you an angel, his form of paradise. He treasures you and is curious about you, he sees as you as the light that lit up his dark world. He sees you as an honest being, being true to yourself but also letting him realize the truths about himself. Saeran in his true form, loves us and idolizes us to an extreme level. Borderline personality disorder is coming into view here. He's placing us up on this pedestal, however unlike the disorder, he's not going to hate us at a moment's notice. He's choosing not to pursue that path.

[uvobreakmylegs]

The Long Route

Shalnark x female!reader

Warnings: stalking, creepy behavior, voyeurism, mentions of potential kidnapping, Shalnark abusing his ability

Word Count: 5.3k

At seven in the morning on a Wednesday, most people were still waking up, some trying to ignore the rays of the sun that peeked through the windows while others would be getting up reluctantly. As such, most people weren't out yet, leaving the streets free of the traffic for a short while. Even being at the height of summer, the early hour had the temperature outside being a moderate one, best described as tolerable bordering on being just okay, though that would change for the worse once the sun rose higher in the sky, causing most to head indoors to find relief in the AC units that worked overtime.

But for now, the temperature was fine and the mood was quiet.

Fifteen minutes after seven o'clock, Shalnark walked through a largely empty parking lot before he entered through the double glass doors of the local gym. Going through a second set of doors brought him to the inside of the building, which was just as empty as it had been outside. Few people wanted to be up this early, and fewer still felt inclined to go work out if they did happen to be awake. The people who would go out at this hour were mostly the ones who couldn't make a gym visit fit into their schedule in any other way or they wanted to have less company with them while they worked out.

Shalnark didn't consider himself to be part of either group. In all honesty, he would have much preferred sleeping in. Already, he could feel a yawn coming on as a result of another night where he'd gone to bed far too late to be up and about this early, but he kept himself from letting it out. As much as he wished he was back in bed, he wasn't here for his own sake.

The manipulator smiled as he greeted the lone employee who sat at the desk not far from the entrance. The employee in question remained stone faced as he walked past, not bothering to give a greeting in return or even fake being friendly at the sight of the blonde man. Shalnark didn't comment on it and the smile stayed on his face as he headed off towards the men's locker room.

He was pretty used to that particular employee's lukewarm reception to him, and since he had never cared about the way other people viewed him, he wasn't about to start that now for someone who was ultimately insignificant to him.

After leaving his things in the locker room and heading up the stairs to the jogging track that overlooked the work out area below, Shalnark took the time to stretch out as he looked at who else had arrived by now.

Four people were working out on the machines. More than normal, he noted, as the number usually tended to be two or less.

At least no one else was on the jogging track. Despite not coming this early to have the place to himself, it was nice to not need to worry about anyone else being in his general vicinity.

And while it was unlikely that anyone would notice or even care, it was just as nice to not take the risk that anyone might see the glances Shalnark would take out the long window that overlooked the indoor pool. The people below him never paid enough attention to see what he was doing, but anyone closer might take note of the way he watched the pool. Or rather, the person who was almost always in the pool at this time of morning.

Speaking of….

He'd already begun his jog, keeping his pace moderate and doing his best to keep himself from rushing to the window. Act normal and keep your head facing forward. He was used to it. As he rounded the corner and came to the window, he eagerly glanced to the side and smiled to himself.

You were there, as expected, swimming at the center of the pool. And once again the early hour resulted in you having the entire stretch of light blue water to yourself as you made your way toward one end of the pool. Once you reached it, you would turn and swim to the opposite and repeat the process once you reached that wall.

By no means were you a professional swimmer, nor were you trying to be one. You swam at your leisure through the water, not at all interested in even trying to swim the length of the pool the way the professional athletes would. You swam because you liked it, and you were often lost in your own thoughts as you went back and forth as you enjoyed the feel of the water.

He reached the end of the window just as you reached the end of the pool, and he was able to catch a glimpse of you turning around in the water before you were out of his sight completely. As usual, the time he had to look at you ended far too quick for his liking, and he returned his attention to what was in front of him as he continued his pace while he made his way around the track, eager to get another look at you once he reached the window a second time.

As much as he disliked how sudden his viewing of you would end, the anticipation of seeing you again spurred him as he went around the track. Though he made sure to keep his pace the same. As unlikely as it was, if there did happen to be anyone watching him, it would look weird if he always slowed down at the window and then sped up after.

You were closer to the opposite end of the pool when he saw you again, still going at that same leisurely pace. Your hair was wet, he noted. At some point you had dunked yourself under the water completely as he knew you were compelled to since you felt it would be strange if you entered the water and didn't go under at least once. It was an odd quirk of yours and you didn't even know why you felt the need to do so.

One could say that your need to come out at this time of day to swim was another quirk of yours. But unlike the first one, you and Shalnark were both aware why you came out so early.

It came down to an aversion to other people in public pools, many of them not having a sense of personal space, as well as you not trusting others to have clean habits while sharing the water with you. Your concern was largely children who didn't know any better, though there had been a few adults who had annoyed you enough that you never wanted to be in the water with them again. But the lack of other people and the fact that the pools were cleaned every night had the early hour of seven being the perfect time for you to go.

Maybe it was because of his own upbringing and the fact that he'd seen plenty of unpleasant things both in his youth and as an adult, but Shalnark felt that was a silly reason to go so far to avoid others. It made you seem a rather picky.

A little bit of pickiness was no big deal, though.

You were swimming towards the middle of the pool again before you were out of sight, and Shalnark again brought his gaze back in front of him. Another lap around the track before he would see you again.

And when he did see you again, you were no longer going back and forth in the pool, now hanging about in the middle as you floated on your back, your face and a majority of your chest sticking out of the water as you stared above you.

It was during times like these that he wished he could sneakily take a photo of you. But even if he were to be quick about it, that was likely to draw too much attention. The manipulator just needed to appreciate the image of you that was burning itself into his mind.

That was a new swimsuit, he noted. A light green one piece suit decorated with pink stripes, and from what he had been able to see when you were swimming earlier, the suit dipped down low in the back.

The colors were nice on you, he felt. And you looked cute in it. Though Shalnark would be hard pressed to criticize you in any of the suits he had seen you in previously. Any piece of clothing that had the fabric hugging so tightly around your body was one he was happy to see you in, but he did have to say that it was a shame you no longer wore two piece suits.

Although, it was his fault that you didn't wear them anymore.

His mind went back to that incident as he came to the end of the window, and with you out of sight, he thought of how he had almost managed to ruin this experience of yours completely.

When he first started following you and learned of the outings you took every Wednesday morning, Shalnark hadn't bothered with taking advantage of the jogging track to watch you at first. It had seemed smarter and less of a hassle to take control of one of the lifeguards while he watched you in private. You wouldn't question why one of them would be watching you, after all. That was literally their job.

Only he hadn't realized what would happen after he used Black Voice to take over that lifeguard; that having them watch over you, the object of his affections, would cause them to smile at you while Shalnark watched through their eyes.

It was an oddity of nen, no doubt. Something he hadn't been aware of because he'd never had such feelings for anyone until he saw you. How could he have known that would happen when he'd never encountered that issue before?

So for three different mornings, Shalnark was puzzled at the way you kept giving the lifeguard nervous glances while you tried to enjoy your swim, while all you could see was that lifeguard leering at you. On that third day you had clearly had enough as you got out of the pool much earlier than usual to complain to the management, and the lifeguard in question had been fired shortly after.

That had been an interesting thing to learn about his own ability, and Shalnark would have been more fascinated by it initially if he hadn't been so worried that you were going to stop this bit of your routine. The week after that incident you didn't come in, and he wondered if you wouldn't be back at all.

It was a nice surprise when, a few weeks after, he saw you head out for the gym before seven, your typical swim gear in hand.

But from then on it was one piece suits only.

That was too bad, but maybe in the future he convince you to wear them again. Maybe for him.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

He came around to the window again and his eyes once more darted to the side. You were still floating in the middle of the pool, still staring up at the ceiling.

What were you thinking about?

He wished he could ask. It would've been nice to go down and talk to you. Unfortunately his spider tattoo meant that wasn't a good idea as he would be bringing some risk to himself if he were to go out there shirtless. And even if he didn't have that problem, he was aware you might not appreciate someone trying to chat you up while you were in a space where you wanted as little company as possible. While you wouldn't complain about one or two others who might happen to be in the pool with you, you didn't want conversation.

Was it really that fun to swim around like that with no one else to interact with?

Evidently you thought so.

As the window ended and he lost sight of you again, Shalnark still felt that the effort you made to be alone in a public place made you picky. But still, no one was perfect. And after so much time watching you, Shalnark had grown fond of your quirks.

If anything, he found that they made you cuter.

Over the next hour, Shalnark watched you as you swam about, sometimes going back from swimming from one end of the pool to the next, sometimes dipping back beneath the water completely, staying under for a few moments before you rose back up and keeping your eyes shut as you brushed the hair out of your face.

And other times you were just floating. Even with the distance between you two Shalnark could see that your gaze was unfocused as you were more concerned with your own thoughts, and once more he wished he could know what was going through that head of yours.

Maybe at some point, you would tell him.

Not now, or anytime soon, but at some point in the future, when you would know him long enough to trust him.

That would be nice.

It was a little bit after the hour mark had passed that there were others coming into the indoor pool as well, setting up their towels on the long white chairs as they chatted with one another. Not too many, but a sign of what was to come. And as was usual during this time, you began to make your way out of the pool, swimming over to the shallow end before you were able to walk out, the water dripping off of you as you headed for the chair where you had left your towel.

Shalnark took that as his cue to leave as well, going around the track one last time and then making his way back to the door that led out into the halls.

But before he did that….

He glanced down at the people who were working out. Two of them had left since he had started, and the other two looking as though they were beginning to wind down. Though neither of the two who remained were women.

Shalnark frowned, feeling slightly disappointed. Ah well. He couldn't get lucky with that every day.

He was just about to leave the room when he heard the door beneath him open, and he paused for a moment, waiting to see who had entered.

It was a woman.

Within an instant he had one of his needles in hand, and with a flick of his wrist it was embedded into the woman's neck.

The woman stiffened for only a moment before Shalnark took over, his phone already pulled up to his face as he began to input his instructions. Just like that, the woman was continuing like nothing had happened, turning around and leaving the room she had just entered. With a click of a button he had her remove the tie she had put her hair in, letting it flow freely and hiding the needle in her neck.

In the time it took her to reach the women's locker room at the other end of the hall, Shalnark had descended the stairs and entered the men's, his eyes glued to the screen. You would probably have just entered the showers, cleaning off the smell of the pool chemicals. It was unlikely that you would've been done that fast.

It was also too bad that he couldn't record any images of you while you were in the shower. But with the way anyone under his control would smile at you, he needed to be careful whenever he used his ability to spy on you. Another incident like the one with the lifeguard and you'd leave this gym for good.

That would be a shame, as he'd truly grown to enjoy this routine. Both yours and his own.

He and his puppet waited as he heard the sound of water running at the other end of the locker room. The woman he was controlling was standing at the end of one aisle of lockers, opposite of the one that you typically used, staring blankly at the gray metal in front of her while he listened for a sign that you were returning.

When he heard the water switch off, Shalnark quickly set it so his phone would record the images seen from the eyes of his puppet, anticipating the state you would be in when you walked around that corner. He followed up by having the woman open the locker door in front of her and use it to hide her face while he made it appear as though his puppet was looking for something.

A few moments later, you were there.

Through the corner of the woman's eye, he immediately caught sight of you clad in only a towel. You glanced over at the woman once, to which Shalnark made sure she averted her eyes, and then you paid no more mind to her as you put in the combination on your lock. Once the door to your own locker was opened, you removed the towel that hid the sight of your body from him.

His mouth went dry as he saw your bare skin and the goosebumps appeared all over as those parts that had been covered up were met with the chilly air in the locker room. He saw the way your nipples had hardened as a result of that, and he double checked to make sure the phone was recording you. He saw the way the water continued to drip from your hair that was still damp despite your efforts to dry it, and the way the water dripped from one strand that fell onto your chest and rolled down your skin, traveling down past your breasts and stomach until it reached-

Shalnark took in a deep breath as he looked away from the screen, tapping his foot while he made an effort to control himself. As much as he wanted to keep his eyes on you as much as possible, trying to leave the building while hiding a tent would be awkward, even for him. This was what the recording was for; so he could view the video when he didn't need to worry about that.

From that point, he spared only brief glances towards the phone's screen, doing so just to make sure you didn't catch the way his puppet stared at you.

What he caught sight of were little snippets of you: a quick look at the way you pulled your underwear up your legs. How you looked from behind as you put your bra into place. Those few droplets of water that were still present on your exposed skin. The way that skin was then quickly covered up as you pulled your shirt over your head, followed by how you zipped up the front of your pants.

It was a constant back and forth from the view of his puppet, and Shalnark twirled his second needle in his hand as he kept himself from getting too excited.

He knew that the video he would have later wouldn't be very good. None of them ever were, as all he could enjoy were those snippets of your vulnerability sandwiched between the anticipation of being caught.

But there was a charm to them, something about them that he loved as he would capture these moments of yours. Maybe that was a quirk of his own, as he was truly enjoying the ways he tiptoed around you, watching your every move while you remained unaware of the fact that you were actively being stalked.

Besides, if he wanted a nicer quality video of you, he'd just look through the footage from the cameras he'd placed in your apartment.

Ah, but he was getting distracted.

Right now, he should be focusing on what you were doing.

And since you were nearly finished with tying your shoes, Shalnark gathered up the bag he had brought with him before exiting the locker room, his eyes glued to his phone as he saw you gather up all of your things before you turned to leave.

Once he saw that, he released the woman he'd been controlling and the screen went dark.

As he placed the phone and remaining needle into his pockets, he thought that today, it'd be nice if he could interact with you in some small way. Maybe to set the gears in motion for the relationship on your end.

Probably not that, but he at least wanted you to know that he existed.

You were several steps behind him when he began ascending the stairs that led up to the front desk area. Among the other noises that were within the building, he focused in on the way you walked and the sounds of your shoes upon the tiled floor that changed once you reached the stairs yourself. He sensed how far you were behind him, which wasn't far at all.

But he kept himself from looking back.

After climbing the last step and heading towards the doors at the front, Shalnark gave a brief wave to the employee at the front desk who was still present at their post. That time they made a sour face when they caught sight of him, and he saw the way they mouthed the word “prick” as they looked away angrily.

Shalnark personally didn't understand why that particular employee was still so mad about the fact that he wasn't paying any membership fees. After all, it wasn't his fault that a loophole in their guidelines allowed anyone with a Hunter's license free access to the gym and all its amenities. And really, why would anyone even bother still being mad about something so petty?

Ah well. It didn't matter. That employee couldn't do anything and the rage they radiated at him was amusing to him. For now, at least.

Then his attention shifted, away from the employee and back to you as he sensed that you also had reached the top of the stairs and were now heading for the doors as well.

As he had reached the exit before you did, he pushed one of the doors open and then looked back, pretending as though he had just noticed that you approaching. With a smile, he pushed the door open wider to step through and then kept it open, waiting to the side as he held the door for you.

On realizing that he was waiting for you, you smiled at him as you offered a “thank you” as you walked through the open doorway. He smiled and nodded in response. Quickly reaching the second set of doors in the entryway, you opened one and copied the action he had made previously, holding the door open for him. Just as you had, he thanked you in turn, to which you smiled again as you answered “no problem.”

Now out of the building, you began to walk over to where you had parked your car, only to notice immediately that he was walking in the same direction as you as the car that Shalnark was currently using not too far from where you had parked your own. Evidently you felt awkward saying nothing as the two of you walked side by side, especially with the previous interaction, and you made yourself speak up.

“The heat has been pretty brutal lately,” you commented as you looked up to the sky. The sun was higher now and there wasn't a single cloud present.

“Yeah. It's always the worst when you take one step outside and you feel like you could immediately keel over from heatstroke,” Shalnark replied.

You nodded along as you agreed with him, then added “I think we're supposed to get some thunderstorms this weekend, though, so that might keep things cool for a bit.”

“We can always hope,” he answered.

The meaningless conversation ended as quickly as it started as you came to where you had parked your car. You fished around your bag for your keys as you wished him to have a good rest of his day, to which he wished you the same.

That was it for today. Any further attempt at conversation wouldn't be received well, especially when it was clear that you needed to be somewhere. Right now the view you had of him would be one of neutrality – he'd been nice to you, you'd been nice back, and you had a conversation that was so boring that you'd likely forget about it within the next few hours, though hopefully his image might stay in your mind and you would recognize him the next time your paths crossed.

You probably hadn't noticed him on the jogging track, not today or any other. When it came to things like your surroundings, you could be incredibly oblivious at times, especially when you were too deep in thought.

He reached into his pocket as he went to pull out his own car keys, and his hand bumped against his phone.

…. He still had a needle he had yet to use, didn't he?

……

No one else was around and the opportunity was too good to pass up.

Before you could enter your car, he turned and threw his remaining bat needle at you, which promptly struck you on your shoulder. You were instantly frozen in place as you were put under his control, a puppet waiting for orders.

Shalnark didn't need to bother looking at his phone as he typed out your commands, and as he approached you, you turned to him, smiling as you waited patiently. He felt that the smile you were giving him now wasn't as pretty as it had been when you'd been speaking to him earlier, but it would do for now.

As would this.

Shalnark pulled you into his embrace when he reached you, tilting your head up with one hand as he leaned in for a kiss while his other hand continued to type in commands. You did as Black Voice ordered you, leaning in as well and reciprocating his kiss while your soft hands went to rest on his chest ever so gently, the way he imagined you would touch him if you were to do so of your own free will.

He got to experience just a little bit of you: the taste of your lips, the smell of your now slightly damp hair, the softness of your skin, the feel of your body being so close to his and the slight scent of pool chemicals that still clung to you despite the shower you had taken.

It wasn't perfect. There was a robotic feel to your touch that was caused by the use of his ability, and he knew that right now, all you were was just a shell of yourself.

But it was far to early to expect to get anything like kisses from you, and while he was determined to maintain the course to have the relationship progress as naturally as possible, he couldn't help but cheat in little moments like this.

Eventually, you'd be kissing him of your own free will, so what was the harm in making you do that a bit early? After all, if you didn't know about it, how could it ever hurt you?

So he kept his lips on yours as he held you.

Letting you go felt bittersweet; he wanted to have your touch on him longer, but he was already pushing it with how long he was keeping you there. He knew you had somewhere to be within the next hour and it wasn't time yet for him to deconstruct your social life. Things needed to be normal for now. So with some effort, he pulled himself off of you, and as soon as the needle in your shoulder registered the commands you pulled away, turning back to your car in the same position you had been when he took you over. It was once Shalnark had entered his own car that he deactivated Black Voice, and within an instant, the needle disappeared.

He watched through the rear view mirror as you came back to your senses, seeing a brief bit of confusion hit you, and you were confused as you looked about your surroundings. Clearly you sensed that something was off, but when you looked about further and saw nothing out of place, you stalled for a moment, keeping your hand on the open driver's side door while your head tilted down. You were thinking it over, no doubt, racking your brain as you tried to figure out why you felt like something felt strange. But with no evidence of anything actually happening and no sign of anyone near you that could be giving off such a sensation, you would be forced to concede that nothing had happened. And after a few further moments of stalling, you entered your car and shut the door, driving off not long after.

There was still a puzzled look on your face as you drove away, but by the end of the day, you would be over it.

As for Shalnark, his focus would be on getting home so he could jack off to the latest video of you before he saved it to his computer alongside dozens of similar videos and images that all featured you.

And maybe next Wednesday, he might find the opportunity to talk with you a little bit more.

As he began to head back to his apartment, he knew that he didn't need to go through all of this. All of the stalking and the filming and the ways he planned to insert himself into your life. Shalnark could easily take you away by force; he had proved that moments ago when he took control. You were powerless to stop him, and you wouldn't be able to protest until he had taken you to someplace of his liking, and even then there would be little you would be able to do. This charade he was playing wasn't necessary, and Shalnark was well aware that he was only making extra work for himself by playing with you in the way he did.

But that was what he liked about it.

Watching you from afar to find out your habits, seeing the different things you both liked and disliked, witnessing the good and the bad moments you would have on any given day, storing all of those moments on the hard drive of his computer so he could look them over in detail whenever he pleased. Seeing the way you had put your life together, just so he could come in and change everything and make himself the center of your world.

Others probably wouldn't have wanted to bother with a plan that took such a long time. And that was fair, to an extent. It really would be easier and faster to take you away. But he didn't think going about it the fast way would matter much.

Because no matter how it happened, the end result was that you would be with him. He would love you and you would reciprocate, and the two of you would live happily together. That was what Shalnark had decided, and therefore, that was the only way this could turn out.

And it was said that the journey was just as important as the destination, wasn't it?

Shalnark smiled to himself once again, his fingers eagerly tapping on the steering wheel.

Doing it this way was just more fun.