#seungkwan imagines

[itsobviouslybelle]

what have you done to me…

˗ˋˏ Briefly Orange ˎˊ˗

SYNOPSIS: Fragmentary source of healing and like an oasis away from the city, for his group of friends, Boo Seungkwan’s family farm is a regular vacation destination away from the city. Yet Seungkwan wishes for anything but a future filled with mountains of oranges, his dream of living in the city still ineffaceable in his head. When he receives a request from a friend he fell out of touch with asking if they could stay on his farm for the summer, Seungkwan finally finds himself in an opportunistic place in which his dream can finally become a reality. Why? Because you’re cursed to have everything you love disappear.

Sweltering heat and an eventful summer, magic touches lives in ways that we can never imagine. But in this transition between seasons, we find ourselves asking: when loss is as transient as the lives we live, what does it mean to love with every fiber of our being?

PAIRING: bsk x reader

GENRE: angst, romance, slice of life, magical realism

TAGS: food/drinks, time jump, friends to lovers, single father!csc, summer fic, slow burn, cooking processes (including descriptions of knives), a character falls off an atv, different povs (yn's chapters are set in the past / seungkwan's chapters are set in the present), soonyoung and jihoon should have their own separate warning

WC: 32k

A/N: if loneliness and loss could be consolidated through prose, maybe this fic was meant for you – nu.

wondernus's masterlist

ONE. PEELED ORANGES

It starts with the peel. Hold the orange in both hands and press your thumbs against the hollow bottom where there’s an open dip between the peel and the fleshy meat of the orange. Press into the peel with the tips of your fingernails, hard, penetrating the peel and creating a perfect opening to peel the fruit. Then, start peeling the bright and smooth outer shell away until you’re left with that orange and fleshy ball of juice. When you halve the fruit between your fingers, it sizzles and cracks crisply as you rip it apart — sometimes the juice escapes the membrane in a transparent drop of liquid, collecting on your finger, and rolling down your hand toward your arm. Sweet or sour, the rest comes after.

YN

Sometimes when we’re not careful, we fall in love.

Waves broke over and over again against wet sand and caused hundreds of tiny ripples to race towards the shore, outlined by a frothy white foam that briefly settled on wet sand before it dissipated. You thought that you knew everything there was to know at that age. Fifteen. It was the oldest you’ve ever been. From your spot on the sand, far away from the water, you knew exactly where the water would run and stop to kiss the sand and say a brief greeting before leaving. You knew how in Autumn, the sun sets in hues of pink and orange that blend so finely that you would often wish that the sky was always pink instead of blue. And you knew that she was happy to be walking barefoot in the sand-turned-sludge area of the shore with her army green capris rolled up to her knees and her scuffed sneakers dangling from their shoelaces in her hands.

There she was in the distance, mouth pulled back into a wide smile as she looked down to watch and feel how the waves quickly run over her feet to wash the sand away and leave her about an inch or two deeper in the sand when the water retreats back into the ocean. From where you were sitting, you could clearly see her looking back at you while her entire upper body shook with glee from her happiness of simply being at the beach. Giant chunks of her unkempt bangs kept hitting her face as the ocean breeze blew, but she didn’t mind. She was so happy that you swore you could hear the remnants of her laughter carried by the breeze that brushed against you. You knew you were happy to be there. With her.

However, at that moment, you felt it grow in you again. It was that same feeling that came and went during the past few days during class, on the way to school, and even at night right when you tried to keep your eyes closed to sleep. Eyes locked on her as she squatted down to inspect something in the sand, you could barely hear the people around you as your vision tunneled while the previously acquainted feeling grew with so much warmth in your chest that you didn’t know whether you should scream in fear or cry from that swell of happiness. The more that feeling grew, the more it weighed your heart down so much that you felt that the weight could send something seesawing out of your mouth and past your lips. There was no escaping the feeling this time. No more suppression. You were in high school then. You had to be braver and smarter than you were in middle school. You could feel the words on the tip of your tongue, drying your mouth to a sandpaper texture and threatening to escape from its prison. Raging seas. Raging emotions. It threatened to come like the waves.  

Water. You wanted to table the feeling and drink something refreshing before fully exploring it. No, you weren’t making an excuse to push it away, you think. Again. Practically forcefully peeling and prying your eyes away from her figure, which was making her way back to where you were sitting, you quickly dug through your beach bag to find the crinkled plastic water bottle you’d forgotten you brought. You felt assured that she would be coming to your side in that empty space between you and her stuff on the blanket you were sitting on. So when you finally uncapped the water bottle and brought the bottle to your lips, you let the lukewarm water fill your mouth, saturating every parched crevice in your mouth before gulping it down all at once. The second gulp of water wasn’t as big, but a few drops managed to escape the passage between your lips and the water bottle’s opening. And they trickled down the corner of your mouth and down to your chin before you wiped it away and stopped it with the sleeve of your new school hoodie. 

You could hear her, her and her sweet voice calling for your name. Voice as affectionate as she was, it always felt like a symphony in your ears with the percussion section located in your heart. The very thought of her made your heart beat and hammer like a timpani during a solo or a piano played by the world’s finest musician. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Ba-bum. Allegro. This time her voice was calling for you to come join her in the shallow part of the water. Wade a little bit with her because it would feel cool against your hot skin. It was a hot day. She didn’t know why you kept your hoodie on the whole time, but she was just happy you were there with her. You haven’t moved from your spot except to toss a stray volleyball back to its owners. Come on, go join her. Please. She wanted you to. The feeling wanted you to. You wanted to.

When you finally looked up, you could see the waves crashing against the shore underneath the setting sky. Peace. Nothing rang in your ears except for the sound of the roaring waves and the joyous shrieks of small children being chased by their parents. Nothing weighed down on you, not even personal worries about the future after high school that your classmates often talked about. Despite how your skin still felt hot and stuffy under your hoodie, you didn’t feel particularly parched. After all, you haven’t moved all day from your spot except to return a stray volleyball back to its owners. Even then, it was a lot better to cover up than to have your skin feel dry yet sticky from the warm and salty ocean breeze and mist flying against you all day.

Hot sand. Stiff crossed knees that were in need of stretching. You never expected anybody to be by your side when you looked up. Nobody to walk around the beach with. That day, you came to the beach alone to sit and people watch as the sun set in front of your eyes. It was nice being there by yourself, with no bag to watch over and no extra tracked sand leading into your house. Nobody to care about. Empty shell of a body like a lonely sandcastle alone on dry sand. There were footprints that led towards where you were sitting. No person who the footsteps belonged to.

Incoming sunset breeze to cool your face. Pulverized stone exfoliate via walking. Footsteps on the shore without a trace.

Inexplicable feelings. Setting sun. Forgotten youth. Home.

TWO. ORANGE JUICE

Roll your orange against the counter while pushing against it. Don’t be afraid to rough it up a little. We’re trying to release the juices. I think I learned something weird from this old television show I used to watch with my mom before bed that was part talk show and part DIY show… Huh? A mom? Let me finish first. So the ladies with their black hair in neat curls and matching outfits with those really fluffy short sleeves were talking to a guest, someone that deals with food maybe. Anyway, I learned that if you toss citrus around in your hands for a while, the tartness of the fruit gets replaced with sweetness. So I spent much of my childhood juggling my tangerines from the sidelines of the soccer field before eating them. Unfortunately, because I spent too long juggling my fruit and ended up eating it last minute, I always ended up with a stomachache that sent me back to being benched. Silver lining is, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten a sour piece of tangerine before. So if you want a sweeter juice, I guess you can juggle the fruit a little before you halve it. Orange juice is easy. I don’t know why I have to teach you. But I guess you’re a good listener. That’s nice.  

SEUNGKWAN

The large rolling suitcase leaves behind two long indents in the dry dirt path as it drags along the road. Each pull and tug towards a new temporary familiar coats the once black and glossy wheels in a matte tan color disrupted by speckled imprints of tiny gravel in every new layer of dirt rolled onto the suitcase wheels. Once in a while, much like the long lines used to omit phrases from a written sentence, the wheels break through a pair of footprints that belong to the person pulling the suitcase. Still, the traces along the dirt path are never straight nor as continuous as one would usually prefer. As an arborist would study the rings of a tree to determine periods of sickness and health, anybody could see how the lines left by the suitcase indicate periods of pause in transit, a person struggling along the road, and moments of pure and undisrupted conversation.

Under the warm morning sunlight, Boo Seungkwan has a new kind of warmth lingering by his side — someone so familiar yet so new, neither déjà vu nor jamais vu but nostalgia in person. He hasn’t seen you in years, yet he can’t find himself saying he expected the person to step out of the taxi to be a person drastically different from what he remembers. But you’ve changed since he last saw you, albeit it’s a more mature version of you who walks alongside him toward his family farm.

Seungkwan knows everything about you. For instance, as long as he asked you about family, close friends, past relationships, or the summary of the last chapter you read, you would always answer him truthfully, albeit bluntly. In the past, he would often find himself wondering whether or not you never tried to ask him any questions about himself because you were simply not interested or if you were afraid of your inevitable. He knows the amount of hair that collects on your drain every time you shampoo your hair. He knows you never order the same drink from a coffee shop twice. He knows the answer to every single question he has ever asked you to the point where even he's afraid that one day he would run out of questions to ask you. So when he received a message from you asking if you could work at his farm for the summer in exchange for room and board, he knew both your lives are about to undergo a new form of change and momentum. Change or no change, he agreed to your request if and only if you would be willing to fulfill his additional term: you must help him get rid of his oranges.

What presents itself as the summer getaway of the century is a 3-acre piece of land that hosts a small orange grove behind the cream-colored family farmhouse and guest house-turned-seasonal café that Seungkwan was left in charge of for the summer while his family vacations in the Maldives. Even sitting in the car with the windows down and turning onto the street the property sits, wafts of honeyed and tangy citrus can energize those on a long journey away from the city. Besides the dirt road that leads towards the farmhouse are large patches of clover in place of grass, and a beautiful array of flowers and bushes are planted between dirt and clover. What is most magnificent, Seungkwan points out while walking up to the farmhouse where you would be staying for the rest of the summer, is not the fact that his grandparents built this place from the ground up or the thousands of oranges they produce each year, but the fact that he drew the long end of the stick for you so you have the first-floor study to yourself instead of having to share a room with the rest of his friends.

When his introductory gist is returned with your silence, Seungkwan finds himself too embarrassed to see whether or not you reacted in response. But if he took the time to look, he would’ve seen you looking around your surroundings in awe, your mind wondering about how much of the landscape could change just by being thirty minutes away from the city.

“Let’s see,” Seungkwan mumbles while he opens the front door and leads you to the interior of the house in an attempt to free himself from his embarrassment. “The study is the first door on the left down the left hallway. It’s a sofa bed, and I already set it up for you. Laundry room is one door down. I’m in my grandparents’ bedroom down the right hallway. There’s also a bathroom and a guest room on our side. Everybody else should be upstairs…if you think it’s awkward to have pictures of my family stare at you while you sleep, I won’t be offended if you turn them around.” He scratches his hair, still trying to figure out whether or not he conjured an air of awkwardness between you and him.

He hovers behind you as you quietly make your way to your room — him studying how you crane your head to look around the foreign farmhouse interior from the living room to the ceiling's supportive wooden beams. It is rather quiet, as if you’ve both run out of topics to discuss after the brief moment you shared while trekking from taxi to house. He doesn’t know why he hesitates when you reach for the door's doorknob as if he were imagining you to be some interior design critic for a magazine. But his breath hitches for a second when you open the door and step into the modest office. Distracting himself from nothing, he looks at anything but you and settles for the tiny streaks of dirt your suitcase wheels brought indoors. And he smears the dirt streaks with his foot, making a mental note to mop when he has time.

Not too long after you enter the office, your voice calls for his attention. "Seungkwan?" You call for him.

Seungkwan steps into the office's open doorframe, careful not to cross the threshold of the room to give you some privacy. He notices you are sitting on the edge of the sofa bed, your suitcase temporarily tucked against the wall and underneath the light switch. Framed pictures of his family sit on the office's bookshelves. Some pictures depict little Seungkwan in a puffer jacket while holding large oranges in his tiny hands, causing Seungkwan to become quite embarrassed. What is more, is how he notices your hand clutching the blanket you sit on loosening with his presence and leaving a mountainous crease in its absence. 

You thank him. 

The response sounds like a squeak, which Seungkwan finds amusing and reassuring. There is the fact that there is an air of awkwardness present, not from his creation but from the years the two of you spent apart, that causes you to squeak. Gratitude is phrased simply, the attempt is more than enough to let him know you are feeling the same way he is feeling.

Truthfully, Seungkwan is still trying to fathom and process the fact that you are here with him. It hits him in this moment that maybe the you who sits in comfortable silence while staring out the window is not exactly the same person he once knew like the back of his hand. Finally taking time to look at his friend closely, Seungkwan still recognizes you in the same way that we recognize ourselves as ourselves even when all of our cells have exchanged themselves for new cells. He recognizes the way your hands clutch into balls with your thumbs placed between your pointer and middle finger when you fidget. He recognizes the backpack you brought as the same one you used in college. But he fails to recognize and understand why or how you have become the person to reach out to him for any reason. Why is it that he was chosen to be one of your protagonists in your journey to find the meaning of your life? How is it that a nobody who dreams of a life unattached to the farm could possibly offer something of such value to someone who constantly lives life in fear of loss?

The truth is, there is always something about being next to you that always makes Boo Seungkwan want to cry. Pity doesn’t even begin to describe the feeling that wells and burns in his chest. Is it rage? Sadness? Regret? Empathetic and sympathetic as he is, he is prone to wearing his emotions before he can even realize what he is feeling. Being next to you causes his chest to concave and collapse in on itself, but he knows better than to feel bad for you. Or maybe he thinks it’s so fucked that you’re in a position in which you’re so desensitized to loss that you can’t even recognize at any moment that you lost what you loved. Always by your side, or at least until a few years ago, Seungkwan was there to reintroduce you to the things and concepts you’ve once loved because he cared and noticed. A savior isn’t who he’s trying to be, nor was that ever his intended role. Maybe a constant without caution is what he strives to be, even if his selfishness causes him to believe that in case you ever allow yourself to fall in love with him he would be able to disappear and thus never take on the responsibilities of a third-generation farm owner.

Yet a curse regarding loss upon a regular human being in love shouldn’t be the wake-up call that shows the world that loss is a daily occurrence. Loss is as banal and unremarkable as its spelling. And Seungkwan knows this. He’s lost torn snack foil wrapper corners from his pockets. He’s lost time during transit. He’s lost those who he once loved dearly. So why is someone else’s loss so much more important to him when he knows that love is involved?

And why is it that Boo Seungkwan chooses to show everybody unconditional love and care even when he knows transactional relationships would statistically yield more return?

Seungkwan isn’t a bad person. There isn’t a single bad bone in his body. He’s known you long enough not to tiptoe around you because, despite your curse, you’re just a regular person. And you would prefer it if other people treated you regularly. But why is it that he feels the way he feels whenever he’s alone with you?

A silver compact car with dusty windows pulls into the driveway, crushing rocks under tires. Seungkwan watches his guests through the study window, how the driver parks his car and pauses his music before pulling up his emergency brake as if his music is more important than the safety of his car. On the bookshelf near the window, Seungkwan’s grandfather’s plastic analog clock continues to tick through the silence and makes itself known.

“I’ll let you unpack on your own.” Seungkwan breaks the silence, only now realizing the time and how he never replied to your thanks. “I have to lead the others to their rooms so call for me when you’re done. I’ll bring you around.”

“Who’s here?” You ask Seungkwan before turning your head to look back at him.

Seungkwan leans against the doorframe and tilts his head toward the ceiling to think. Sticking his fingers out one by one, he lists his upstairs visitors, “Lex, Morg, Noah, Hao…I think you remember Jihoon right? He just arrived with Soonyoung and Terry. Oh, Yunling is also here. Seokmin, Jeonghan, and others are coming later this week.”

“Oh? I didn’t know he was…” He hears you mumble to yourself.

“Oh? Oh. Oh no.” Seungkwan slaps his hand over his mouth in realization. His eyes widen as he stares at you staring back at him, and he feels like he’s about to be presented with the “World’s Worst Host” award. “I’m sorry I didn’t even think about it because I know you haven’t-”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off...a little too eagerly for his liking.

“I’m sorry this didn’t cross my mind at all. I- I can probably keep him far away from yo-”

“It’s okay Seungkwan.” You try to reassure him.

“Are you sure? Won’t it be awkward to spend the summer with him?”

“It’s been years. I think I can manage.” A tight-lipped smile.

“Okay, well I’m here.” Seungkwan isn’t sure whether or not his tone indicated reassurance or his physical proximity to you. He removes himself from the doorframe and turns his body away from the office entrance.

“You are,” you reaffirm, yet your voice can make two syllables sound as monotonous as ever.

“For you if you need anything.” He hopes this fragment can come off as the latter half of his previous statement. Only his head can be seen from inside the office.

“I’ll find you when I’m done.” Your voice is a bit lighter.

“You changed.”

“I’m still trying to change.” Hopefulness. A twinge of a tiny smile.

“You know, I’m glad you’re here. Not just because of the oranges, but I’m just…glad.”

THREE. HONEY CITRON TEA

You know, I hated this when I was a child because I always associated this with sickness. Whenever I coughed, Mom would grab me by the back of my collar and march me to the kitchen, and she would get the large jar of yuja from the innermost corner of the fridge by pushing all the condiments to the side. I remember the yuja jar being so old that I can’t remember the label, but the faded and discolored leftover pieces stuck to the remaining glue whose stickiness never seemed to wash off my hands no matter how much I scrubbed. Wooden dowl into the jar, it emerges with a heaping pile of jammy and golden cheong. Boiling watery concoction with sunken pieces of rind washes down the sore throat and coats it with handmade love. Eat it, she would tell me, it helps with the swelling. This is what you get for not bringing a jacket with you when you go out. 

YN

During the summer, they switched the old sand for dark brown wood chips. A preschool-wide assembly was held a few weeks into the start of the Fall program regarding playground safety. More children were sent to the nurse’s office than the preschool workers have ever seen in such a short amount of time. It hurt a lot when you tripped and fell on your palms and tried to break the fall in the areas where sand once lay. It hurt even more when the taller kids purposely kicked the wood chips upwards, swinging them at the other kids when they hogged the swings. At least with sand, all you had to do was close your eyes and hold your breath when they kicked so the sand wouldn’t get in your eyes and mouth. But the topic of the assembly was “Walk Don’t Run”, as if the adults expected preschoolers to understand and believe that they were the problem and not the cheap excuse for an easier and flexible playground maintenance.

It was fun spending the day with your friends, digging as deeply as you could in the sandbox before the preschool workers called you indoors. After the sand replacement, it hurt to even kneel on the wood chips. So when you were three, you knew when to stop when you got hurt. After the implementation of the wood chips, you decided to stay indoors.

There was one kid who constantly got in trouble. Whether it be him failing to do assignments or him not finishing his food, he was always punished. You saw him squatting in the corner of the room, mumbling to himself while you played with your toy. It was your new obsession. It rattled. It twisted. It was soft. It kept you company. Weeks passed. You, indoors. Toy in your hand. Boy in the corner. Sometimes mumbling. Sometimes he talked to you. Indoors was safe. That, you understood.

An unfortunate incident, the same boy in trouble again walked past you just as an adult walked into the room. Eyes wide, you sat in a daze with your tiny legs stretched in front of you. You looked as if you had forgotten something. With nothing to do on your spot on the rug, you stared at the boy walking to his time-out spot and then at the adult.

The worker kindly called your name. Where is your toy?

What toy, you replied. There were so many toys that you didn’t know which one the worker was referring to. Trying to decipher the ambiguous question overwhelmed your tiny brain and made your head hurt. Which one, you asked again.

Adults were always weird. They asked vaguely phrased questions and changed directions when were asked to reiterate or further explain their intentions. Instead of describing the toy for you, the worker decided to target the boy because he saw him walking past you when he entered the classroom. Illogical as it was, a new suspect had arisen in the worker’s mind. And to the worker, his mind was absolute.

You couldn’t do anything to help the screaming match that ensued. The boy shrieked until his voice became raspy, crying about how he didn’t steal anything. He looked at you with his helpless eyes, puffy eyes, pleading for you to side with him. He didn’t do anything wrong. It wasn’t like you didn’t help. You stated that you did not know of such a toy. Collusion. Turning good kids bad. Overthinking in the name of good standing with the directors of the preschool.

The preschool prided itself in implementing strict and good morals in its students. You don’t remember liking the place very much.

On report cards, there was always a section for the teachers and workers to write extra notes. "Good kid" was what was written in the section on the card sent home in an envelope. "Doesn’t cry."

If love erases, then societal expectations belittle human emotions. But what did you know? You didn't remember anything that came after the incident, just bits and pieces. You were only three.

FOUR. CANDIED ORANGES

She loved eating these, my grandma. It broke her heart when she couldn’t chew through these when she got her dentures. Sometimes she would forget that she couldn’t eat these anymore and would spend an entire day making a batch. Taking her time to text and tell us that she accidentally made some, she urged us to go and pick it up after class. While they were fresh, she said. I'm not sure if it was forgetfulness or the fact that she missed us that she would end up spending hours candying orange slices. I was living hours away for school, and she was too old to send them over by parcel. I wish I made more time for her. 

SEUNGKWAN

“For a person who says that he hates oranges, you sure put a lot of care into them.”

Unable to see the person talking to him from his squatting position in the middle of the orange orchard, Seungkwan takes off his sun hat and lets it drop against his back with its drawcord secured around his neck. Shadow cast by the sun to the side of him, Seungkwan’s eyes follow the shadow towards its person and draw his eyes upon an old man's familiar figure.

“Uncle Hsieh!” Seungkwan exclaims happily upon recognition. He puts his hands on his knees and immediately hoists himself up to greet the elder while eyeing the man’s foldable personal shopping dolly almost filled to the brim with oranges. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Are you picking oranges for your kids?”

The old man immediately crinkles his face and slaps Seungkwan’s shoulder while shaking his head. “You know my kids never have time for me anymore. They took my grandkids on a vacation and wouldn’t let me come with them,” he tsks through his front teeth.

“No.” Seungkwan’s response sounds exasperated. He remembers the Hsiehs to be annual visitors of the farm.

“Right? They said that they’re worried my partner and I are too old to travel. But look at us-” He gestures to his dolly and someone in the distance. “If we’re healthy enough to come to your farm to pick oranges every winter, then why can’t we vacation in a nice hotel?”

Seungkwan quickly waves at another visitor passing by before turning to the man. He doesn’t know what to say in response and only hopes that everything turns out fine for the man because friendly banter would only cause him to bring up the fact that his grandparents are currently vacationing with his family. Not wanting to accidentally offend the nice man, he quickly diverts the conversation with a suggestion. “Chill off in our café before you go, yeah? I don’t want to have you ending up in a hospital because of heatstroke.”

“Maybe that’s the only way that I’ll get my family to visit.” The old man smiles, but Seungkwan can clearly see through the man's humor used as a pretense for his longing and sadness regarding his family. This interaction leaves Seungkwan wondering how his family is doing while he waves the old man goodbye.

This summer, for Seungkwan, is a montage of bliss between new and old moments shared with friends and the constant reminder of how loved his grandparents are by the community. As Seungkwan’s friends slowly move into this farmhouse for the summer, business at the farm proceeds as usual. So he runs the farm and café like how he has been trained to do it his entire life — picking oranges, shipping oranges to local grocers, running the café, making drinks, greeting customers, bookkeeping… He doesn’t complain about the fact that his family left the farm to him for the summer to go on a proper vacation. Bliss to him, then, is encapsulated by moments shared with new and old friends. Moments that make him forget, even just for a minute that the possibility of a predetermined and unwavering future are what make unbearable humidity and sweltering solar heat fundamental parts of a summer away from the bustling city life he’s grown accustomed to.

“Growing accustomed to,” this phrase when taken into another context, however, means something entirely different from Seungkwan. From his pile of oranges, he stacks into a wooden crate to load onto the wagon attachment for his ATV. Seungkwan looks specifically in the direction of the farm entrance where a group of people are working. He spots you sitting with Yunling under the navy blue canopy, chatting away and probably taking a break while persons three and four man the cash register. It’s been a few days since you arrived, but Seungkwan can’t help but want to look out for you as he used to when the two of you were in school together. And he catches himself, as he is doing now, and reminds himself that he doesn’t need to look out for you like how he used to do. That isn’t to say that his friends are bad people, but maybe the only lost puppy he has in his life right now is probably the literal one who is currently on vacation with his family.

Granted, he didn’t expect you to immediately open up to his friends over a couple of hard seltzers by the floor-to-ceiling windows in the sunroom on the first day you arrived. Sitting in the middle of strangers and a few familiar faces, you looked comfortable in your spot on the beige cushions of the rattan sofa.

“I have this condition where everything and everybody I love disappears…” Seungkwan remembers you saying with a soft voice. Your eyes dropped to stare at the open can of hard seltzer you hold in your hands. It was a topic about your life that you often chose to keep hidden, so it felt like a revolutionary turn hearing you address it so openly. “It sounds unbelievable doesn’t it? I had people tell me that it’s a common occurrence to lose what you love, but it’s literally as if that person or object completely vanishes from my life and memory.”

The room was silent after you finished speaking. Nobody raised their drink to their lips, and nobody moved so much an inch. Seungkwan thought that that was it, that everything was bound to fall to ruins. But Soonyoung’s simple yet loud hum of ponderance was enough to break the quietness.

“I think,” Soonyoung slurred, immediately redirecting the group’s attention to him. Minghao, who saw his friend’s tipsy state, reached over to gently pluck the drink from the older friend’s hand to set it on the coffee table in front of them. “I think anything is possible in this world, including magic. I mean look at Alex.” Soonyoung sat up straight and pointed at Alex, who sat across from him, and proceeded to laugh out loud while talking, “Out of everybody around us, he’s the one in a relationship, and you would be lying if you believed he was able to achieve it without witchcraft.”

So, maybe it is in Seungkwan’s nature to worry about those around him. Such nosiness for even the most picayune of problems and people, Seungkwan’s habit of worrying for and about others doesn’t even have an origin story. It just happens because he is who he is.

Dropping the ATV off near the entrance to the orchard, Seungkwan jingles and twirls the keys in his left hand while directing his seasonal workers where the crates should be stored for the night shipment to local grocers. Without noticing how hard he twirls the keys around his pointer finger, the small chain of keys flies off his finger and onto the ground a few feet ahead of him. It lands on a soft patch of dirt, light-colored dust covering surfaces that gleamed with a metallic sheen just a few seconds ago. Someone picks up the pair of keys before Seungkwan has the chance to react in the same way and lightly tosses the keys back to their owner.

Yoon Jeonghan, with his jet-black hair he spent months growing out that finally touches his shoulders, takes long strides towards his friend while reaching into his pant pocket for his phone, a long stream of complaints already trailing out of his mouth.

“I looked everywhere for you,” Jeonghan complains to Seungkwan while Seungkwan finds himself rolling his eyes. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone? We’ve been calling and texting you, but you wouldn’t reply.”

“I left it somewhere. Can’t remember where I put it,” Seungkwan sighs while wiping the dust off his keys with the hem of his shirt. “When did you arrive?”

“Like half an hour ago.” Jeonghan adjusts his light blue baseball cap to better shield his eyes from the sun. He clicks open his lock screen to double-check the text he received from his driver. “Seokmin’s napping in our room. He’ll come out later.”

“Oh no, was the drive bad? When did you guys leave?”

“Nah, the drive wasn’t bad. He’s just hungover,” he replies nonchalantly while shoving his phone back into his pocket. The dark-haired man quickly looks around the familiar farm and rocks on the heels of his feet. “Busy, huh?” He observes.

“Yeah,” Seungkwan agrees. There is a glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes when he cocks his head toward the ATV he parked not so long ago. “But the new investments help.”

“Bro I can’t imagine how cool your grandparents must look while riding the ATVs.”

“5 miles an hour.” Seungkwan gestures to the number five with his hand and drops it after. “Speed demons.”

“Still cool.” Jeonghan nods while looking around his periphery again.

It’s clear to Seungkwan that Jeonghan, who had spent a remarkable amount of time on this farm over the past few years, isn’t looking around to people-watch or check out the farm's new and expensive additions. Jeonghan has been around long enough that even Seungkwan’s grandparents consider him one of their grandsons. No, Seungkwan knows that while Jeonghan is trying to play it off as if he’s only checking out and reminiscing in his surroundings, what he is looking for is not it, but rather, a who.

When Yoon Jeonghan, who is usually not the type of person to be silent or stay still for long periods, freezes in his spot like a deer in headlights, Seungkwan knows better than to follow his friend’s line of vision to see who exactly it was who caught his eye. Instead, Seungkwan looks toward the blue canopy near the entrance and notices two people missing from their posts.

Out of nowhere, Seungkwan feels someone behind him throw their entire weight onto his shoulders. The force of the sudden weight on top of Seungkwan knocks Seungkwan’s sunhat from his head forward and onto the ground and causes him to lose his balance, but he grabs onto Jeonghan's unwavering and sturdy shoulder to steady himself. 

“Seungkwan,” Yunling sings in a sing-song voice. Her bleached blonde hair falls and covers half of Seungkwan’s face as she reaches her arm over his shoulder to wave a familiar object in front of him. “You forgot your phone.”

“Get off me. It’s hot,” Seungkwan groans while bending his knees so she can safely hop off his back. She hands him his phone, which he thanks her for. In the meantime, another person picks the sunhat from the floor and tucks a thick booklet underneath their aim pit to brush the dust off the hat before handing it back to its owner. And Seungkwan finds himself, yet again, thanking another person for handing him an item he dropped.

Seungkwan sees you bring the accounting booklet to the front of your chest while Yunling leans her elbow on your shoulder. It looks like you are about to say something to him, but someone interrupts your question.

“Yn.” Jeonghan manages to push through his state of shock, yet your name rolls off the tip of his tongue as if he spent his entire life dedicated to saying the name he just said.

It feels familiar because it is.

FIVE. ORANGE SALAD

Orange peel sliced away to form a hexagonal-shaped fruit, lean the fruit on its long side against the cutting board to slice thin hexagons. If what you hold in your hand is too dull, then you risk losing more than what there is to the recipe. Dullness slices the fruit just as sharpness does, but you risk bruising the delicate meat and creating soft pockets of mush while the juice escapes and drips onto the cutting board. There are times when it’s better to do things quickly and all at once or you will risk losing the beauty in your creation. Simple orange slices in a refreshing salad, sometimes it’s better to not try too hard. You did your best. And that’s enough for me.

YN

The more you shifted on your plastic desk chair, the more static electricity you created, causing your arm hairs to stand up straight every time your arm brushed against the back of your chair. But you couldn’t help yourself — the singular high school desk chairs always felt confining to sit in, and this situation felt even more like a prison because you were attending your scheduled parent-teacher conference without any guardians present. The empty classroom was quiet with just your homeroom teacher and you present. Only your cell phone, which sat on the teacher's desk in front of you, rang loudly through its speakerphone option as the two of you waited for your guardians to pick up the call.

The space between your legs and the front of the teacher’s desk was minuscule, to say the least, so you could only stretch your legs to relieve some physical tension in your body toward the side of your desk. She readjusted her dark purple tortoiseshell rectangular-framed glasses on the bridge of her nose as she stared at your phone and then back at you as if doing so could create a telepathic communication with your aunt and uncle on the other side of the world. All that did was confirm that she was very disappointed in the current affairs of your home life.

Clearly annoyed, she pressed the red “End Call” button before the phone could go to voicemail and slid your phone toward you. You leaned forward and gingerly took the phone from the desk and set it in front of you, still feeling the lingering warmth of the screen on the tips of your fingers even after your fingers left the phone. It wasn’t like you were in trouble, but the guilty feeling you felt at that moment burned and churned in your stomach and left you feeling nauseous.

The teacher let out a breathy sigh, grabbed your manila folder from the stack of student folders to the side of her, and opened it to the first page. She tapped her chipped manicured finger on your information that you could not see from where you were sitting and looked at you. Her expression softened as she looked at your body language. She wasn’t mad at you. She knew you didn’t do anything wrong.

“There are a few things that we have to understand as things that are out of our grasp. And today is such an instance in which we have to recognize that fact. Your parents…” she trailed, as if unsure if she should bring up the topic of your parents.

“My aunt and uncle,” you promptly corrected her. “They work overseas on ships so it’s hard to contact them when they’re too far out. I live alone most of the time. But I do have someone who comes in and helps around the house so I guess I’m not really alone.”

“Right.” She nodded. “My mistake, but you didn’t need to tell me that much.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no.” She shook her head and breathed out through her teeth, feeling a tiny unsettled by your current situation at home and in the present. “Um, I think you’re a good student. Actually, an outstanding student given your grades and extracurriculars. But you’re a Junior now, and I really think you should start thinking about your future.” She tried to end her sentence with a polite smile, but you knew that there was still an air of uncomfortableness present.

If you were being truthful to yourself, you would admit that you never really took the time to think about your future as the prospect of a future for someone like you, more often than not, seemed like a myth than a reality. And the idea of going to school for something you didn’t love and then finding a job in the workforce for something you didn’t love felt like a torturous future you weren’t willing to partake in.

Sixteen-year-olds your age, you knew for a fact, didn’t have to worry about their future as you did with yours. Theoretically, our futures would be dictated in the direction of the things we saw ourselves loving doing even if it meant changing directions once in a while. Yours would be too, although the direction of change would be dictated through an erasure. What you love will always become what you lost. Maybe there was one thing that you could relate to others your age: it was the feeling of not knowing what your future would be like. And what would become of your future if you somehow fell in love with yourself? Would you lose the idea of yourself or would you simply perish?

“…career workshop next week. Do you have anybody to pick you up?” Your teacher asked while handing you your manilla folder containing your progress report.

 “I’m taking the bus home,” you replied, feeling sheepish that you completely zoned out after she started talking about your future. You hoped you didn’t miss anything important.

“Okay. Well, stay safe.” She nodded while craning her upper body over her desk to see you put your folder in your backpack. “And I know you’re a bit forgetful at times, so I’ve attached the workshop flyer in your folder so you won’t forget about it. I’ll also remind you in class.”

SIX. CITRUS SALMON

I wonder if I am wasting away my life. We wish our elders to live long and grow old, but…I dunno. Citrus salmon baked at a steady heat for a quarter of an hour, I wonder how much of my time I’ve wasted waiting for it to bake to perfection, waiting for something to happen to me. Maybe this is why I nag so much to the point that even I know I’m starting to become such a nuisance to those around me. The pressure to do something worthwhile and not let anything precious go to waste, why must we try so hard all of the time? If I spent all my fifteen minutes lying on the couch while staring at the ceiling, not even thinking about my salmon baking, just simply zoning out until I’m stopped by my timer, am I wasting my time? Whatever I do in those fifteen minutes, I would still end up with flaky citrus salmon, right? Right?

SEUNGKWAN

Boo Seungkwan drags you by your elbow toward the front of the café, dodging patrons sitting on beautiful glossy white barstools with orange wood-stained surfaces and looping around farm product displays.

“There’s nowhere for me to sit.” He hears you complain in his ear. He knows it’s a bit embarrassing for you to be dragged around like a toddler in front of people you don’t know, but he’s on a mission. “I’ll honestly be more comfortable hanging out in the back until my break is over.”

The two of you appear in front of a man sitting alone in the corner of the café who stares through the large windows beside him at nothing in particular. It’s one of the only spots in the café with cushioned seating and low coffee tables positioned with the intent to allow groups of friends to sit and chat together while enjoying the scenery. But it seems as if the man is too occupied with his thoughts to notice incoming groups of customers eyeing his spot. Thick groomed eyebrows that contrast and provide a balance to his softer facial features and with an irresistible boyish charm to him, the man sits with his back against the loveseat to better support the sleeping baby in his arms. Despite his well-kept appearance, small stains on his knit beige tee, dark circles under his eyes, and the fact that his lunch on the table in front of him remains untouched but his coffee gone, is a clear tell that the sleeping child is his daughter.

Leaning towards you, Seungkwan brings a hand to the side of his face to purposely create a wall between the man and him and whispers rather loudly to you, “This is Seungcheol. He’s living in the café.”

“Bro.” The man named Seungcheol looks at his friend with a rather unenthusiastic expression. His voice is raspy as a result of not speaking all day. “You’re making it seem like you’re describing some random weirdo living in your café. And I’m only living in the rooms in the back of the café because the main house is too noisy.” He turns his head toward you as if to defend himself in front of a judge, “I have a house and a well-paying job you know. It’s enough to support two daughters.” His rebuttal is said with an obligatory huff, as if it was part of a spiel he’s said more than a hundred times, yet there is a twinge of sorrow in his tone that is entirely intertwined with his cheekiness. It’s a feeling and a state of being that Seungkwan knows that Seungcheol can never truly escape.

“One of his daughters is a dog,” Seungkwan quickly quips in an attempt to lighten the mood to avoid a sense of awkwardness between the three of you before the two are introduced to each other.

“Still a daughter.” Seungcheol rolls his eyes and nods at the empty space in front of him, jutting his chin slightly upwards in place of his occupied hands. “Sit.”

Seungkwan also nods at you, indicating that it’s fine for you to sit. Dragging you toward a random man and his daughter in the corner of the café has its place in Seungkwan’s grand scheme for you to get rid of his oranges, but he thinks the interaction with Seungcheol could prove worthwhile for all of you — including Seungcheol. So he takes it upon himself to sit next to his older friend, quietly stretching his arms outwards so the father could pass him his sleeping daughter. And if all of the cards are played right, Seungkwan thinks he could be killing two birds with one stone.

Gladly handing his daughter over to his friend, Choi Seungcheol mumbles a quiet note of gratitude before he sits up straight and rolls his shoulder backward to stretch his back. He leans forward in his seat and comfortably rests his elbows on his knees before grabbing the untouched fork next to his salmon salad. Seungkwan watches him dig his metal fork into the roasted salmon and take a hearty bite to enjoy the marinated citrus flavor of the salmon by itself before raking the metal prongs through the meat to shred it to pieces just as Seungkwan’s grandparents had taught Seungcheol to do so before they went on vacation. 

June is when Seungkwan’s friends all arrive at the farm for a summer away from the city; January is when Seungcheol arrived at the farm, two people’s lives packed up in a couple of suitcases and cardboard boxes for time away from the city to heal and escape. The café, originally a guesthouse, returned to serve its original purpose by housing Seungcheol and his daughter for a little over half a year, and Seungkwan knows very well that he doesn’t have the heart to tell his friend that he should’ve moved out months ago. So Seungkwan sits in the once sought-after spot in the café with a sleeping baby in his arms, watching the newly single father scarf down his salad like it’s his last meal. Looking at the infant, her dark-colored eyebrows and the pout that resembles her father’s all too well, stress stores itself in the pit of his stomach, finding company with the sympathetic grief he shared with the heartbroken Seungcheol who once couldn’t so much bring himself to pick up the pen to sign his divorce papers.

Falling in love is easy, but falling out of love and learning how to become whole again is a process that can shatter one’s soul and make one doubt whether or not love in any shape and form is an achievable future feat. For some people, a lifetime is not long enough to contain and overcome love’s defeat. And for those devastated by love, the process of falling in love would never be the same as it once was.

“How long have you had her for?” Seungkwan hears you ask him, your voice clear and without apprehension yet only loud enough for those sitting across from you to hear.

The father hesitates for a second, nodding his head while licking his lips clean of vinaigrette before leaning his fork on the edge of his ceramic plate. He sits up with his arms crossed in front of his chest before dropping his arms and folding his hands in his lap. “That’s weird for me to hear because usually people ask me how old she is, but you seem to measure time differently,” he replies and unfolds his hands yet again, this time stacking one over another neatly on his thighs. “Asking me how long I had her for is what I usually hear when it comes to pets or cars. I also get questions about my age when they see me with her.”

Seungkwan scoffs at his friend’s rather thorough reply to a simple question. “Stop lecturing them. You sound like an English professor.”

“Maybe I was one in another life.” Seungcheol smiles meekly. He separates his hands, clutching them in two fists before letting go as if he is struggling with deciding where he wants to place them. “I just celebrated her first birthday earlier this year. Seungkwan’s grandparents let me mark her height against the wall. Got to prop her up against the wall and everything.”

In the brief moment of awkward newly acquainted silence between the two, Seungkwan’s eyes dart between his two friends, registering in his mind the start of a friendship. He sees your soft smile, lips pulled back to reveal the top row of your teeth. And Seungcheol, although a bit embarrassed to be gushing about his daughter, smiles with his head pointed downwards yet his lips pull back to allow his dimples to finally show after being hidden for so long.

“Oh.” You laugh, clapping your hands together, suddenly remembering a story. “I remember Seungkwan showing me the spot in the hallway. She’s taller than Seungkwan was at this age, right?”

“Literally one of the best moments of my life,” Seungcheol adds without hesitation, slapping both of his palms against his knees to further solidify his statement.

Mouth hanging open, Seungkwan glares at the two, somehow finding himself regretting introducing you to each other. But before he can verbally retaliate, a cream-colored sleeve blocks Seungkwan’s view. Yoon Jeonghan, in his textured button-up shirt, quietly retrieves Seungcheol’s empty cup to place on his small serving cart. And he takes the damp towel hanging from his apron and wipes the empty space on the table in front of you before he slings the towel back on his shoulder after he finishes. The three of you have no choice but to pause your conversation to watch the worker as he slowly turns away again to grab something from the top of his cart, a slice of orange cake nobody ordered, to place it in the empty space that he wiped. Jeonghan doesn’t say anything to the three of you nor does he try to make eye contact, but Seungkwan observes how he places the plate of dessert in front of you as if he is handling something as delicate as his first love.

Shifting his observation focus, Seungkwan sees how you stare at him with a look of bewilderment and something unreadable even as Jeonghan reaches into his apron to protrude a set of utensils for you to use. A chorus of welcomes causes Jeonghan to pause what he is doing, shoot straight up, and join in welcoming the customer. Jeonghan seems to recognize the man who walked in and waves at him, letting him know that he’ll clear a table for him as soon as possible. And he takes the opportunity to set the utensils next to the plate he placed and quickly rolls his cart away, avoiding confrontation.

“Asshole,” Seungcheol mutters while leaning forward to pick up his fork. “He could’ve asked if I wanted a refill. I’m literally one of his closest friends yet he chooses to take my cup away just to spite me.”

Seungkwan looks down at the sleeping baby he is holding to make sure she is still sleeping. When he sees that she’s still asleep, he puts extra caution in covering her ears not because the café is loud, but because her dad has a potty mouth.

“But you know-” Seungcheol attempts to speak while chewing. The action is a little harder than he expected, so he swallows before continuing. “Jeonghan. He’s not the same as he once was. I’m sorry for admitting this, but I know about you only because I found out through Jeonghan back then. And believe me when I say this- Wait, no… actually, Seungkwan can vouch for me. But I was honestly super against what he did. We actually lectured him at that time. But who am I to lecture someone about love? I haven’t even hit my thirties and I’m already divorced.”

He slumps back into his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. He stays like that for a second before letting go of his nose, and he folds his hands in his lap while staring out the window. His right leg shakes, sending little tremors that vibrate beneath his feet, while his lips purse and shut tightly as if not to let the words on the tip of his tongue come out. Gloom casts over Seungcheol as quickly as mist covers car windows on foggy days. His eyes blink fast.

“It’s hard…isn’t it?” Words come out of Seungkwan’s mouth, but it’s not said to console anybody in particular. He has never experienced loss like you and Seungcheol have. “Finding yourself after love.” It becomes more of a personal question rather than a rhetorical one.

“I feel like I am always on the verge of crumbling inside…” His voice cracks and Seungkwan can feel his heart shatter. “…my entire body is tethered by a thin string of hope I hold onto. Sometimes I cry in the restroom with the fan on so I wouldn’t wake the baby. But looking at the bright side of things is easier said than done.”

Silence fills the space between the three of you, expanding and pushing itself against the invisible bubble that protects your conversation from eavesdroppers. Nobody really knows how to respond to Seungcheol, how they should reply, or if they should console him. Wracking his brain for the correct answer, Seungkwan sits silently while staring between the half-eaten lunch on the table and the man next to him. It seems unbelievable that any form of separation between two people could cause an almost never-ending avalanche of hurt even after the person has healed.

When Seungcheol snaps out of his brief melancholic moment, he feels extremely bashful upon seeing how his friend and new friend look at him with such pity. So he does what every other normal human being does: play it off and play it cool. “You guys honestly don’t have to look at me that way. I’ve accepted the fact that I have to move on. And I’m pretty sure I’m okay now. It’s just scary to take the next step, but-”

“She gave up when it was getting too hard is what Seungcheol was trying to say.” Yes, Seungkwan wants Seungcheol to become better and heal over time, but it angers him so personally that anyone feels forced to hide their pain. Who is healed is healed, but it doesn’t mean that healing has to equate to something painless. “And she took everything she owned except for the child.” Seungkwan finds himself, in the moment, extremely heated so much that he jolts in his seat almost as if he is preparing to launch himself at somebody.

“Because I wanted to look after her. Afterall, I’m the one who wanted her.” Seungcheol glares at his friend while reaching over to take back his stirring child. He clutches her against his chest, his right hand placed over her head as if to shield and protect her from damage. “Leave it to Seungkwan to be mad at things and people you’re not even mad at anymore. But, in all honesty, I think it should be okay to give up when it gets too hard.”

Seungkwan doesn’t catch your conversation with Seungcheol because he finds himself staring at Jeonghan on the other side of the café. He stands at the self-serve bar, refilling glass pitchers and organizing the utensils the customers are supposed to grab themselves. Someone calls for Jeonghan, Morgan probably, and Jeonghan waves him goodbye. A customer comes up to Jeonghan, a nice-looking lady whose skin looks severely sunburned. Standing straighter than usual, he looks around the café before locating whatever it was that she needed him to find. He sends her off with a smile that quickly fades after she leaves his vicinity. The worker continues to survey the rest of the café, probably people watching while he grabs the emptied pitchers in his left hand. His eyes land on Seungkwan’s, and he tilts his head to the right as if to ask Seungkwan “what’s up?” Seungkwan thinks about Seungcheol’s comment about his empty cup and quickly cups his left hand, tilting it toward his mouth. Fully expecting Jeonghan to shake his head no, Jeonghan defies all odds and nods at Seungkwan. Albeit, he does motion to his friend that he has to bring the empty pitchers to the kitchen first.

“I don’t know,” you drag while prodding your cake with your fork, eventually taking a small bite. “I feel like it would be awkward, but I am here to find at least some meaning in my life. I’ll do it if you do it.”

“Yeah, and have Soonyoung and Seokmin use my baby as an entry ticket so they could spend hours at the children’s arcade because they would be getting their money’s worth because the games are technically for kids? Do you honestly think I would let them near her just so I could go hiking with you guys?”

“Yes?” you reply with your mouth full. A smidge of cream decorates the corner of your mouth, which you wipe away with the back of your hand. “I mean we haven’t really talked since we both arrived, but Yunling says she’ll shove him off a cliff or something if anything bad happens. Or at least join us for our morning jogs.”

Seungkwan snorts when the image of Yunling shoving Jeonghan off a hiking trail appears in his mind. He looks at Jeonghan cautiously approaching the three of you again, this time with a glass pitcher and three cups in his hand.

“…that people change over time, and they change even more after they’ve been given time to grow on their own.” Seungcheol looks at his friend who carefully pours water into the glasses and smirks at him. “Preferences change so in the future you might fall in love with what you gave up in the past. Isn’t that right, Jeonghan?”

SEVEN. SUZETTE SAUCE

When I talk to my mom, sometimes she would bring up stories about my childhood that even I don’t remember, stories I can’t fathom I once did. It would seem as if she were describing somebody completely different from me, like a different person. Time moves linearly as do our lives, but it’s nice to know that there are others out there who stop to remember who we once were even when we can’t. So what I’m saying is that there are more people who care about you than you think. Even when you’re gone, even when you’ve lost yourself, to many of us, you would never be gone…Speaking of gone. This sauce, add some to your crepes before the others come use it all. I’m too lazy to make another batch.

YN

“So you’re giving me your number so I can text you whenever I have the urge to launch myself at someone? What if I get my phone confiscated? What if I text you and then get the urge again and then end up launching myself at somebody just because you didn’t reply to my text in time? Even I don’t think that’s a very good plan, but I’ll exchange phone numbers with you.” The boy pursed his lips and uncrossed his legs, defeated by his assigned peer leader. It wasn’t like he wanted to be in a “safe” room set aside by the guidance counselors where students could talk through whatever it was that they were going through with their peer leaders. Yet here Boo Seungkwan was, sinking deeper into the giant bean bag seat that he hoped would swallow him whole before his parents found out how he “threatened” to lunge at a kid in another class.

Sighing, you shut your spiral notebook and tucked your pen in between the metal spirals. Seungkwan was right, offering him your phone number as a form of life alert wasn’t the best plan of action. But it wasn’t like you had a lot of practical peer leader practice, to begin with. With no peer leaders available to help another student, the guidance counselors could only turn to you as their last resort — the last pick of the bunch.

“Complicated” was what you would use to describe the student in front of you. You’ve seen him in passing and at the schoolwide activities where he would lead the student body in several activities like it was his calling. He was popular and well-liked, to say the least, always kind yet with a temper unmatched like no other. Perhaps it was Seungkwan’s humor or exaggerated movements which sometimes landed him in trouble. Honestly, he never meant any harm. So maybe this was why the guidance counselors thought you were the perfect peer leader for Seungkwan: because he was complicated but not too much to become a complication.

“Well, enough about me.” Seungkwan struggled to adjust his bean bag between words so he could adjust himself in a way that would allow him to sit up straight. “What about you? I’ve seen you around but I didn’t know you were a peer leader. How much experience do you have?”

“Not a lot,” you found yourself admitting. Whether it be Seungkwan’s friendliness or the “nothing goes outside of this room” rule set by the Peer Leaders Program, you decided that you had nothing to lose in confessing to your lack of experience. “My grade keeps fluctuating in my literature class and I’m pretty sure my literature teacher things I’m a pathological liar so I’m always on the verge of getting kicked out of this program…hence, my not being able to take anybody under my wing until you.” 

“So I’m basically your saving grace.” He nodded while smoothing out his navy khaki pants.

“I guess,” you grumbled. It wasn’t like you were failing tests and lying to your teacher on purpose. And it wasn’t like your truth would ever be accepted as truth. Because to the adults in the high school, you were as truthful as the boy who cried wolf.

“Well.” He shot up from his bean bag and walked over to the wooden square table to sit with you. Crossing his arms on the table he continued, “I think it’s dumb that your grades play a huge factor in determining whether or not you can be a peer leader. There has to be more to it than grades. What about you? Aren’t you in the class above mine? Why is it that your grades determine your worth in this program?”

Only having had your first proper conversation with him today, you felt a twinge of surprise that someone as social and hot-headed as Boo Seungkwan would be mad at you. Like the Vertigo effect was used in films, you felt trapped under the fiery stare of Boo Seungkwan while everything else in the room grew in size. From bean bag to wooden table, Seungkwan turned the tables on you. He may not have been a peer leader, but you felt as if he was mad for you, as if Boo Seungkwan was someone you could confide in without being judged. As paradoxical as it seemed, being trapped under Seungkwan’s gaze felt like a freeing opportunity for you to take.

Moments like these, as you understood for people like you, came once in a lifetime. Still, hesitation made your voice quiver, “Promise me you won’t think I’m lying.”

You watched him sit up straighter than before. He shook his head and crossed his fingers in the air. “I promise.”

Throughout the school, the school bell rang to signal the end of class and the start of lunch. You let your eyes wander a bit before they eventually landed back on Seungkwan, who looked more than eager to listen to your story than to pack up his things and rush to lunch. Scratching the corner of your mouth, you began before your heart could find itself stuck inside of your throat, “Whenever I love something, that thing disappears. In literature class, we were reading a book, but I think I accidentally fell in love with the plot and ended up having its existence erased from my memory. So when we were taking the exam, I bombed it because I couldn’t recall ever reading the book and it disappeared from my possession.” You found yourself getting agitated while recalling your most recent incident, “And the thing is, how do I know if I’ve forgotten something if I don’t know what it is that I forgot? So when my teacher met with me, he thought I was purposely being a smartass for trying to tell him that I’ve never heard of the book before even when we’ve clearly spent like two weeks on it.”

Feeling even more frustrated than before, you wanted to be anywhere but near Seungkwan because a large part of you felt as if he was going to start laughing. It wasn’t like you knew how this curse started. And it wasn’t like you could go see a doctor regarding your condition. Everything felt…frustrating.

“So,” he began warily as if he was struggling to find the correct words to say, “does this mean you can forget simple things and also people?”

It was as if you were blasted by a theatrical breeze from a home fragrance commercial. You could see Boo Seungkwan looking at you earnestly, a gaze you weren’t sure you’d ever seen before.

“I guess. But…I don’t know.” It came out more like a sigh.

“Yn, is there someone around you who will remind you of these things?” Seungkwan asked you. “Because it seems like some of these things could be gone for you, but they wouldn’t really be gone.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. Sure, those you loved disappeared, but it wasn’t like you didn’t have any friends. You had a regular social life in high school, with friends in every class and friends to have lunch with or hang out with during the weekends. But there was always a particular friend that people would ask you about, the one you could only assume you truly loved. “I had a friend toward the beginning of high school, but I think she moved away? I can’t really remember her at all. But I would like to think that she was there to teach and remind me about those things.” You shrugged. You had no choice but to act nonchalantly towards someone you didn't remember at all.

“Then can I be that friend?” Seungkwan’s eyes looked hopeful. “For you, I mean. I want to be your friend.”

“Aren’t you scared of the fact that I could possibly fall in love with you romantically or as a friend and you would disappear? Do you really not think I’m joking?”

“Not really.” He cocked his head toward the ceiling and tapped his finger on his chin. “If anything, you can fall in love with my family farm so I’m not forced to take over it after I graduate from college.” He tried to joke. You weren’t sure if he was serious or not. Yet he smiled brightly at you and stretched his hand toward you. “Let’s be friends Yn. As long as you stay with me and I stay with you, we’re bound to not get kicked out of school.”

You shook his hand. “Okay. Yeah. Thank you for wanting to be my friend.”

“And thank you for agreeing.” He got up from his seat and pointed at the jar of sweets on the shelf by the door. “Can I take a piece of candy? I can’t believe they’re making us miss lunch for this.”

EIGHT. CRANBERRY ORANGE SCONES

Can you help me pick up a box of the cranberry orange ones? Do you remember if it is “scOWNs” or “scAWNs”? No, I’m not going to make them myself. Have you ever tasted a bad store-bought scone? Me neither.

SEUNGKWAN

Morgan meticulously applies globs of light brown hair dye onto Seungkwan’s hair by covering his roots and then moving on to the rest. Blissful as he can be, Seungkwan tries to take advantage of this brief moment of pure relaxation, even if it means sitting on the same kitchen barstool for a few hours while the rest of his friends are having a pool day. He reaches under his plastic cape to grab the TV remote on the island countertop to turn on the subtitles because it feels wrong to not have them on. It’s a recent spy movie, but he can’t remember if it came out one or two summers ago.

Tonight, the inside of the house is so quiet that Seungkwan can hear everything in his vicinity: the sound of the dye brush scratching against his hair, someone turning off the faucet in the upstairs shower, someone closing a door, muffled shouting from the outdoor pool. The farm and café are now closed to the public, and all of Seungkwan's friends have dispersed for the time being. With some people in the pool and some in the city, Seungkwan thinks it is rather nice that Morgan would rather spend time dying his hair than be in the pool with her boyfriend.

“Don’t be afraid to tell me if your scalp burns or hurts,” Morgan hums while maneuvering pieces of his hair with her gloved fingers, looking for dry patches she missed.

Seungkwan likes Morgan. She’s meticulous in her actions, and her natural flair of confidence allows her to stand out from the crowd. So he was just as shocked as the rest of his friends when Alex showed them her dating profile, saying that she was the one who matched with him and proceeded to schedule a date with him in the span of a few exchanged messages.

Pulling off the plastic gloves from her sweaty hands, Morgan crumples them in her palms before tossing them into the trashcan. From her apron, she produces a shower cap and places it over Seungkwan’s hair, making sure to carefully tuck the plastic against his skin so that it doesn’t cover his ears. She bends over to further inspect Seungkwan’s hairline and wipes off stray streaks of dye before they can tint his skin a different color.

The sliding door to the sunroom opens, and Minghao steps into the living room with the novel he is currently reading tucked under his arm. He takes a seat across from Seungkwan, and looks at the shower cap’s design and squints through his circular-rimmed glasses, “Duckies.” He admires the childish print for a bit before turning to Morgan, “Alex texted me to say that your phone is still by the pool. He’s worried that it would overheat in the sun so he moved it to the tables for you.”

“Go take a break.” Seungkwan turns around to nudge her arm. “You’ve been standing for an hour. I’ll watch the clock for you.”

“Thirty minutes and then you go wash your hair.” Morgan shrugs off her apron and folds it before placing it on the island next to the other hair-dying products. “I’ll style it after you’re done washing it, but make sure you scrub your scalp thoroughly so that the dye doesn’t stain your skin.”

She exits through the back door, and the movie breaks into commercial. It’s an ad for a topical cream, and short clips of people smiling while doing everyday activities play while the narrator lists all of the possible side effects.

“Did you happen to see where Jihoon is?” Minghao asks Seungkwan. “Seungcheol said that he wanted to gym with him today, but he can’t reach him.”

Just then, the front door cracks open with a swing, and the entry alert chime rings to let those in the house know that someone has just entered. Seungkwan couldn’t see who it was, but he could hear sneakers getting kicked off and the familiar sound of a duffle bag’s plastic strap buckles clacking against metal zippers to know who it was. Seungkwan looks at Minghao and cocks his head toward the entrance, and Minghao lazily waves a hand in response as if he’s saying it’s not his problem anymore.

“I think someone’s in the downstairs bathroom. You can shower first.” Seungkwan hears you say, but he can’t catch what Jihoon replies. He assumes that he agrees because he sees his figure quickly pass the living room to make its way upstairs.

Seungkwan listens to your footsteps while you make your way down the hall to the office. Instead of entering the office, he watches you walk toward the kitchen where you approach him and look at the mess on the island and the duckies on his shower cap.

“Oh, you dyed your hair,” you observe.

If Seungkwan didn’t feel hot while Morgan was dying his hair, the warmth that courses from his head to his stomach makes him feel like he’s sitting in a sauna. He knows that he shouldn’t be embarrassed to be sitting in the kitchen looking like a plastic cone, but that’s unfortunately what he feels he looks like. Fortunately enough, it doesn’t seem like you needed an answer as you turn around to go to the fridge where you fill up your water bottle before waving goodbye so you can go to your room. Seungkwan sighs and sulks in his seat, his black plastic cape crinkling in response.

“How many minutes has it been?” he asks Minghao who currently messages someone on his phone.

“Hmm, like five? Six minutes?” He replies without looking up.

God, Seungkwan thinks. Five minutes felt like forever.

A door closes at the end of the hallway, and Seungkwan can hear the sound of someone’s plastic slippers slapping the ground as they walk toward the living room of the house. He sees Jeonghan holding the bathroom laundry basket in his arms as he lightens his footsteps when he walks towards the office. He continues to observe his friend who seems hesitant to approach the door of the office, as if knocking would cause him to burn in hell. Jeonghan sucks in his breath, maneuvers the weight of the laundry basket into his left arm, and pops up his knee to support the weight as he slowly brings up his right arm to knock on your door. But he hesitates before his fist can make contact so he drops his arm and turns around only to meet Seungkwan’s eyes.

Seungkwan cocks an eyebrow. Jeonghan shrugs. Seungkwan cocks his eyebrow again. Jeonghan’s eyes widen and eyebrows scrunch towards the middle as he throws up his hand to let it fall to his side.

“Just knock,” Seungkwan urges him, although with a tone of annoyance. But it is enough to get Jeonghan to knock on your door. Twice. Seungkwan hears you tell the person outside your door to come in, and when he sees Jeonghan finally close the door behind him, he feels as if he has just finished a triathlon.

“Why are you guys looking at their door?”

Seungkwan turns around to stare at Soonyoung, who stands at the far end of the kitchen island, drenched from head to toe. Chlorine water droplets rain down the kitchen floor, creating a mini pool around Soonyoung’s feet. Red goggle indents line the perimeter of Soonyoung’s eyes, evident that he had been swimming for a while. However, his goggles are nowhere in sight.

“Where’s your towel?” Seungkwan asks his friend, his judgmental eyes trailing the one drop of water that rolls from Soonyoung’s chin and onto the previously dry floor.

Soonyoung only shrugs and runs his fingers through his hair, causing more water to fling onto the floor. “I’m on mopping duty so I thought I would rush to shower and then mop afterwards. But why were you guys staring at Yn’s door? What happened?”

“Jeonghan’s inside,” Minghao explains.

For some reason, Soonyoung takes that information as an invitation to sit on the last open island barstool. He puts his elbows on the counter and leans in, “They were exes, right?”

“You’re dripping,” Seungkwan comments with judgement in his voice. “But, yeah. How did you find out?”

“I’m mopping,” Soonyoung retaliates but leans in closer. His eyes squint as he looks at the office door and back at his two friends. He whispers loudly, “Word travels fast. But I heard it’s because Jeonghan got scared or something and dumped Yn when he found out that everything Yn loves disappears.”

Of course, Seungkwan was never going to confirm or deny Soonyoung’s gossip even though it is technically true. Given Seungkwan and Soonyoung’s friendship, Seungkwan would never want to grant Soonyoung the satisfaction of knowing that whatever comes out of his mouth could possibly be true. He also doesn’t think it’s his place to tell anybody that Jeonghan’s been trying to find a way to apologize to Yn for what he did in the past. So he stays quiet, pretending to ignore Soonyoung by looking over his shoulder to get a better look at the television.

Soonyoung opens his mouth again because he is unable to read the room, causing Seungkwan’s bottom lip to twitch. “Hey, do you think Jeonghan wants to get back together with Yn?” Once again, he speaks his stream of consciousness without regard to how bad it is in the open. “Because if not, I might make a move.”

The statement is enough to make Minghao look up from his novel, only to give the man sitting next to him the coldest side eye Seungkwan had ever seen. Seungkwan can only sit in his seat, utterly shocked that such an idea would ever form in Soonyoung’s mind. It’s only been a week since the two met, and Seungkwan was sure that they weren’t that close with each other. So “Go shower” is all Seungkwan can say to his friend. He makes sure to point at the several pools of water Soonyoung has created since he came into the house a few minutes ago.

But before Soonyoung leaves for the bathroom, he points at the television in the background, “Oh, that’s the movie where the agents thought the crystals were bombs but the bombs were supposed to be books right? The one where the main character’s dad was some famous dude who owed a bunch of money to bad guys so the bad guys intercepted the dad’s chandelier delivery because they wanted to plant a bomb in it to frame the dad.”

Minghao nods, clearly not paying to whatever Soonyoung is saying.

“Or was it the second one with the backstory with the good agents having to mess up their mission because they found out that their agency only wanted surveillance on the dad but didn’t want them to stop the bad guys from planting the bomb because they wanted to stay in their own lane or something? So two of them went MIA to fix the situation while the tall one volunteered to stay back and act like the mission went wrong. Oh, remember how the main character found out about the spy she was dating, so she broke up with him and her best friend spent the entire time trying to make his move?”

“Dude.” Seungkwan can feel heat gathering and bunching at the top of his head, and it’s not from the dye’s chemical reaction. “Go shower.”

“I swear Soonyoung is like a psychic or something,” you hum while bringing the rim of the brown glass bottle to your lips. “He did come to apologize and ask if I had any clothes I also needed to wash. A little awkward though.”

Seungkwan watches you tilt the bottle towards the night sky, watches the beer flow into your open mouth, and watches how your throat bobs as the liquid makes its way into your system. Jacuzzi jets blast toward the center, creating several bubbles that pop against your legs, exploding on contact and drenching the underside of the fabric of your knee shorts. You don’t seem to mind though, Seungkwan thinks having to talk to an ex is probably more uncomfortable than getting your shorts wet while you dip your feet in the hot jacuzzi.

“Tell me about your day though.” You reach over to hold a strand of his hair between your fingers. “I can’t believe Morgan was able to do this,” you murmur.

The simple admiration of his hair makes him feel like the world’s most special boy. In his spot on the jacuzzi next to you, underneath the scintillant country sky where the crickets chirp loudly, simply, and carefreely, his happiness comes alive to dance and sing with all of the other nocturnal creatures. He glows as brightly as the moon as he tells you about his day, his hair, and the little things that nobody would care about. A little drunk, you still manage to listen and stop to remind him about how much you love his hair. How pretty it is. How much you appreciate him for looking out for you for so long.

He forgets that he has his own drink in his hand, an aluminum can whose contents are probably more flat than they are carbonated. Suddenly he is a boy again in that same room where he first met you. The feeling is inexplicable, but the feeling is there. The past courses through his present, and his constant sits beside him, thanking him out of nowhere for staying by their side.

He wants to say it was a promise that he made, or that it wasn’t even because of the promise. He looked out for them because that’s what friends do. But Boo Seungkwan is in a place where he is starting to realize that he is stuck in a place between two extremes: friendship and romance. And in this math equation, there is the added Z-axis. Jeonghan. So he scoffs and decides to make a joke out of his internal dilemma, “Me being here this whole time literally means you never really loved me. Even as a friend.”

“What do you mee-an,” you wail. “I do love you. And appreciate you. And love you Kwan.”

He waves his free hand in front of your face. “My hand is clearly here. Why am I not gone?”

You take a sip of your beer while squinting at his hand. “I can’t see your hand because you’re waving it too fast.” You laugh while putting your bottle beside you. “That means it disappeared because I do love you.”

Seungkwan rolls his eyes and brings his drink up to his lips. He feels your hands run through his hair, circular soothing motions, and then all at once, purposely ruffling and messing it up. But he lets you. He sees your dopey smile as you continue to play with his colored hair while you remind him, yet again, how much you like it. So he sits and drinks his flat seltzer while his legs prune in the hot tub. And he wonders what it would be like to love you as someone who wants to be more than just friends.

NINE. ORANGE CHICKEN

I had a friend who would eat this every single day in college because it was cheap and because it came with a fortune cookie. Two, if you were lucky. I don’t even know how he was able to eat this every single time we went to the food court. But I remember very clearly how he would hold the fortune cookie in one hand and squeeze until the plastic bag obnoxiously popped. He never cared about how the popping noise would scare the other students in his proximity because all he really cared about was how he could hold both ends of the cookie between his two thumbs and index fingers and break it in half with a clean snap. And he would separate the two ends just enough so that he could read the fortune. He didn’t even eat the cookie. He just wanted to keep the fortune in the back of his phone case. Didn’t care if there were doubles. I remember asking him if it meant anything to him. He said he wouldn’t know until it happens. His bike got stolen on campus, and he ended up throwing away his fortunes.

SEUNGKWAN

Today is quite possibly the second worst day of Seungkwan’s life, the first being the day his parents told him that he was going to inherit the family farm. About fifteen minutes after the clock struck eight at night, Seungkwan's group of friends huddle around the kitchen island. Each person grips a red plastic cup in their hands. Alcohol is the drink of choice tonight, rounds of quick shots before someone is smart enough to phone the cab to come pick them up to take them into the city for a night out. And Seungkwan sits in the middle of the living room couch with his arms crossed over his chest. His navy blue cap hides the top of his head. Tonight, he has no indication of going out. Not when his head is bald.

Shame is what Seungkwan feels. He feels ashamed that his hair disappeared without reaching even two full days since Morgan spent forever dying and styling it. He feels shame because a small part of him is mad at you, but he knows he could never be mad at you because it is not entirely your fault that his hair disappeared. He feels ashamed of himself for allowing himself to feel as if he has been stripped bare and left vulnerable when it is only hair on the top of his hair that he is missing. The only difference between him and you is that you don’t seem to care that your hair has also magically disappeared.

You are sorry. Haircuts, dyes, trends, hair loss, roots, split ends…they all took time to teach you everything there is to know about hair. You have apologized to Seungkwan multiple times since relearning the concept of hair. Although Seungkwan can see you standing with the rest of the group, laughing and pre-gaming for the night out, he sees you make eye contact with him from time to time as if to check up on him. To say you’re sorry. You didn’t mean for it to happen.

What sucks even more, to Seungkwan, is that you’re blessed with a certain kind of confidence that allows you to not care about something as banal as losing your hair. But Seungkwan is the type of person who cares a lot about what other people think of him, and how other people perceive his outward and inward appearance. A soft heart is what he has, one that allows him to feel for others, but also one that can shatter easily. Not having hair feels like a blow to his gut. His ears tinged bright red even in the dimly lit living room, he still doesn’t have the confidence to go out for a night out in town to club with his best friends no matter how much he wanted to do so.

Even Seungcheol is here. Even the man who couldn’t leave the farm for god knows how long is finally willing to go clubbing out of all things. Seungcheol stands near the sink with a giant handle of tequila in his hands, holding it up while a thin silver chain swings from his neck. His daughter is upstairs with Terry, who can’t come out tonight because of cramps. Terry has gotten into trivia lately, so the baby might end up gaining a few more brain cells while the rest of the group loses who knows how much by the end of the night.

Soonyoung stumbles to the couch and crashes into the open space left of Seungkwan. His body hits the cushions with a hard thud, and he lays there for a second before he realizes that his red face is uncomfortably wedged in the crack between the back cushion and the armrest. Seungkwan reluctantly helps him sit upright and offers a shoulder for him to lean on. It looks like there’s another person on the couch who can’t join the rest of the group tonight.

While Soonyoung mumbles incoherencies about getting lit while lying on Seungkwan’s neck, Seungkwan can only look at his lap while wishing he were more like you. And he would be lying if the thought of him also being cursed to forget the things he loved so his baldness wouldn’t affect him as much had also crossed his mind, so he mentally scolds himself for even coming up with that thought. It’s a fucked up thing to cross his mind, and all Seungkwan really needs is someone to validate his emotions and feelings.  

“Seungkwan.” You disrupt him from his thoughts and squat in front of him while another person sits on his other side, Yunling. You look up at him with your round eyes and pout, “Are you really not coming out with us tonight?”

Seungkwan finds it hard to reply. He wants to go. He really wants to. But his sudden lack of confidence since he woke up and discovered that he didn’t have any hair made him want to curl up into a ball and hide in this house until all of his hair grew back. And it sucked seeing all of his friends prepare to go out and have fun while he rots away in his thoughts. “I don’t know” is what he sadly replies.

“Look,” Yunling begins, “None of us made fun of you when we saw you panic when you didn’t have hair, right? We don’t care. Hair grows back. And you look amazing with hair and without hair. Right, Soonyoung?”

“Yeah.” Soonyoung raises his left arm before letting it drop against the armrest. “A baddie and a baldie.”

“So you’re going to come with us to the club. You’re going to flash your ID at the bouncer. And you’re going to walk into the club and have a great time,” Yunling lists while patting the top of Seungkwan’s head.

“If you want, we can all stop by and buy colorful wigs before hitting the club together. I know that some of them did their hair, but I doubt they’ll mind putting a wig over it. Confidence doesn’t come back that easily, but at least we can start by being a little silly.” You tap his knees

before pushing yourself up. “If it’s not club appropriate, then we’ll go bar hopping.”

He tries to look up at you though his baseball cap’s visor blocks the upper half of his vision. Palms up, your outstretched hands wait for him to accept their invitation. Truly feeling the presence of his loved ones around him, Seungkwan accepts that he is one of the luckiest people in the world. You might not be the type of person who verbally tells him how much you love him, but he likes to believe that there’s a loophole in your curse, one that allows him to exist even when you love him platonically. So he allows you to heave him upwards from his place on the couch, wondering if you know that he has fallen for you.

TEN. SHAVED ICE

Discomforting sting on the tips of your fingers, you grate the frozen orange against the zester, letting the miniscule pieces of ice fall into the bowl below like snow. It burns and you ask yourself why you wanted to do this again, why this was the treat you wanted to eat on a hot day. Halfway through shaving the frozen fruit, the surfaces hugged by the pads of your fingers slowly melt and turn into mush. Juicy and mushy and orange and leaking, snow continues to fall into a pile until the sting becomes unbearable. The reward isn’t so much of a reward, but a reminder of you impatiently waiting as you watched them do the same thing every time the house was too hot and the fans weren’t enough, grating and zesting frozen fruit. Were there tears in their eyes? Did they run their frozen fingers under the tap? Refreshing treat in your mouth, you wouldn’t know. The ice is melting in your bowl. You still don’t know.

YN

“Hey.”

The masculine voice dragged you out of the conversation with your friends regarding your plans for the weekend. It caused you to turn your head to the left, only to see a familiar-looking student your age who sported a large wrinkled tee and a prominent mole on his cheek. Choppy and short black hair and those prominent eye bags that matched your own, the student looked too handsome to be the kind to approach you. 

“You’re in my history class with Dr. Edelman, right? 7:45 a.m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays? I’m Jeonghan,” he introduced himself.

It was about halfway through the semester, and you knew you were always barely awake in the class to even notice the other students in the class. It wasn’t a very large class — the only people who were willing to sign up for a 7:45 a.m. class were the people who needed the class to graduate or people who couldn’t sign up for the same class at a different time. You were the latter. To be honest, you didn’t even bother to get to know anybody during the class, nevertheless hung out with them after class, so you didn’t know why Jeonghan would make the effort to introduce himself to you while you were having dinner with friends at a small restaurant in another city.

“What’s your name?” He pushed. Did he push? You didn’t know. This was the first time somebody approached you outside of class like he did. The situation was awkward yet a little bit exciting. You were only nineteen and waiting for the day somebody approached you the same way Jeonghan just did.  

Yunling, whose elbow was sharp as the edge of a table, elbowed you on the side of your ribs. Digging her elbow into your side, she urged you to reply to the guy who approached you.

“Ow- Oh. Hi, I’m Yn,” you replied while you shoved your friend away from your side.

There was an amused smile on his face in reaction to Yunling and you, the kind where his lips were stretched wide into a smile, and his mouth hung open just a little so that his teeth didn't touch. 

A soft chuckle emitted from that awkward smile, but you thought he didn’t necessarily find it awkward or off-putting. It was the kind of reaction that you would give to a stranger or an acquaintance — truly interested and amused but not close enough to emit a real reaction.

Knowing very well that all of your friends had their attention turned to your conversation with Jeonghan, you felt the littlest bit of embarrassment to be in the spotlight. However, this moment is what you wanted for the longest time. To have a stranger approach you in the middle of a conversation, not even a meet-cute, but to be seen by others after being unseen for nineteen years is all that you wanted. So, with the pride that swelled in your chest, you decided to make small talk with the guy standing at the end of your booth in the middle of the restaurant.

“Did you come with anybody?” you asked while holding eye contact with him.

“Yeah.” His response was smooth. He turned his body and quickly pointed at his group of friends crowded around the several menus on their table. “I think I should go back before they order something for me that I don’t want. But it was nice talking to you.” He shoved his thumbs into his jeans pockets and flashed another smile.

“It was nice talking to you too.” You glowed. You felt like you were glowing as bright as a glowstick in a dark room. Was it possible for a person like you to glow? Were you feeling what people were talking about when they looked at another person after a good experience and described it as a glow?

“I have to go. But I’ll save a seat for you. One of the guys at my table is also in my class. He won’t bite. I also won’t…” You noticed that the tips of his ears began to pink in color when he noticed that he was trailing in his speech as if he noticed that he was rambling. “Okay. Bye,” he basically fired out of his mouth before he rushed back to his table.

It was quiet between the four of you, all of you trying to process what just happened. Still, you couldn’t help but squeal with your friends, giggling while your friends dramatically reenacted what happened and then shushing them when it got too loud. You felt like you were on cloud nine. You didn’t know where the expression came from, so you felt as if you passed cloud nine and were simply floating higher and higher. Each time you snuck a glance at him over your friend’s shoulder, you found him looking back at you with a polite smile on his face.

Did he purposely sit in a seat facing you so he could also sneak glances at you? What were his intentions? Was he just being nice? You didn’t know. All you knew was that he waved you goodbye when you left with your friends, and it made you trip on your way out.

ELEVEN. ORANGE CREAMSICLE

Huh? No. I’m not judging you for eating the shell before eating the ice cream part…No, I’m not being sarcastic right now. But aren’t you scared that by the time you’re done with the shell, the inner ice cream portion would start to melt? It just feels like once you deconstructed it by eating it in layers you’re basically eating an orange popsicle and vanilla ice cream instead of eating a creamsicle. Or maybe I’m too traditional of a person that I find myself judging a person for doing something as banal as eating a creamsicle like that. Been taught that rules were always created for a reason. Huh? Okay you got me. Of course I’m judging you. Who eats a creamsicle like that? I don’t care about your teeth. Eat it together. Please, I’m begging you. Or at least turn away so I don’t have to see that atrocity.

SEUNGKWAN

Sunless is the sky today. Hot and stuffy air and the rising humidity make the fabric of a tee stick to sweaty backs. When it’s been unbearably hot these past few days, it’s hard to imagine that there is no sun in the sky today despite the blistering heat. Pedestal clouds in the sky hang so low that they almost hug the farmland underneath them. The blue underneath the clouds cast the sunroom in a hazy cobalt filter. Indoor lights have been switched on since eleven in the morning. It seldom rains in early June. Today is an exception.

The familiar loud ping of Terry’s cell phone trivia game rings for a second before it is shrouded by the rolling thunder. After days of hearing pings and buzzes, the rest of the summer group couldn’t help but find themselves drifting toward Terry whenever they started playing a new round. Cash was at stake, but there were thousands of people to beat.

Like a new divorcee in divorce fiction, Seungkwan stands on his front porch with a warm cup of citron tea in his hands while his robe stays securely wrapped around his frame. Mist from the pouring rain hits his skin and makes him feel even more sticky than usual, but he’s too worried about those who haven’t made it home to worry about himself. 

Chewing through the hard yuja rinds that made it into his mouth after he sipped tea, he watches the collected water on the roof pour down on the gravel below like a constant waterfall. The rate at which the rain pours down in the distance makes each individual droplet invisible to the human eye. The falling rain looks like the grain on old television screens so much that the thundering sky feels more alive than the rain it accompanies. The rind is hard to swallow.

Two muddled blobs in the distance close in on the house and become even more clear to Seungkwan with each passing second. To Seungkwan, there is something very interesting to him about how people tend to cover themselves with anything they have when they’re in the rain even if they’re soaked. Finally, back from your daily run, Yunling and you run with your hands covering your faces despite the two of you fully drenched. And Seungkwan is ready to call the two of you inside the house when he sees the two of you pause in front of the porch. Walking toward the two of you to get a better understanding as to why the two of you suddenly stopped, he feels a sense of relief when he sees the scene in front of him.

Like two characters in a brief montage in a movie, Seungkwan’s two friends laugh as they let their arms fall to their sides as if giving up in their fight against the rain. Instead, they allow the water to fall onto their skin without worry as they live life in slow motion. What a wonder it is to be able to let go without worry. And what a treat it is to be able to play outdoors to appease and amuse the child in us. Seungkwan feels a twinge of jealousy, jealous that he could never allow himself to let go like the two of you, jealous that he’s the one standing in the comfort of the shade.

Yunling is the first to notice him standing on the porch, and she stops to wave at him, beckoning him to join. “Come in the rain,” she yells over the pouring rain. “It feels nice.”

Seungkwan walks over to the porch fence and places his mug on the flat railing, careful not to touch the chipped railing because of its bothersome texture. He’s trying not to mind it so much, but the wet and sticky mist created from the rain splashing against the ground clings onto his skin uncomfortably like a second skin.

“Seungkwan, have you ever played in the rain before?” Yunling yells at him, her hands cupped around her mouth to create a megaphone shape. The rain slicks her long hair so much that it makes her ponytail look flat. Even her sport-wick running top looks glossy when saturated by water. Still, she lets the rain pellet and massage her skin.

He has to think about the answer to her simple question. Yet the circumstances turn it into a rather complex question. When was the last time he played in the rain? Has he ever played in the rain before? The thing is, Seungkwan can’t come up with a solid answer because he can’t find it. “Childhood maybe” is his reply.

“Well, nobody is stopping you now except for yourself” is her reply.

Nobody is stopping him except himself. This is something that he knows in the back of his mind. They say we are our worst enemies, and Seungkwan constantly finds himself in situations in which he is his worst enemy. Today, his enemy tells him that it’s better to stay dry because he doesn’t want to risk catching a cold after being soaked by the rain even if it’s only for a couple of minutes. It’s what he’s always been taught: getting wet by rain means the risk of catching a cold and that catching a cold is bad. Plus, he absolutely despises the feeling of wet clothes stuck against his skin so much that even imagining the struggle of trying to peel off his wet jeans makes him shudder. So he waves his hands and denies Yunling’s open invitation despite wanting so badly to join the two of you in the rain, splashing in small puddles, and big puddles; and laughing while chasing each other. How amazing it would be, even for a minute, to simply let go without any worry.

Too bad he is his own enemy.

“Oh fuck!” You stop in the middle of a puddle, causing Seungkwan to suddenly become very alert. “Our phones,” you wail into the open.

The man who is quite possibly in love with one of his best friends watches you from the porch, how only when you’re running from the rain do your hands magically float upwards to create a sort of shade in front of your face despite you playing in the rain without any care in the world a few minutes ago. He can hear it, running shoes crunching against wet gravel, the wet squishing noise created by the amount of water in your shoes, and your panting as you stand in front of him.

Eyes wide and eyes blinking hard as if to squeeze and wring away the drops of water on your eyelids, you greet the owner of the house. And the owner of the house looks at you from his place on the porch, how he can see drops of water drip from your clothes and create a pool at your feet, how he can still see tiny droplets on your lashes. You’re standing so close to him that he feels like he has to hold his breath as a form of defense.

“Gosh,” you mutter while looking down to inspect your clothes. “My shoes are going to take forever to dry.”

The front door opens with a swing, and the familiar entry alert chime’s ring barely makes its way through the pouring rain. Yoon Jeonghan walks out of the door and onto the porch while wearing his house slippers. In his hand are two large towels, immediately attracting the two drenched runners towards it like moths with an open flame. Only this time, it’s not the moths that are getting hurt, it’s the bystander.

Seungkwan watches you run over to your ex, thanking him as you take the dry towel from him before making your way indoors. Yunling follows in your footsteps shortly after, thanking Jeonghan for the towel before turning to Seungkwan. “Come inside before you catch a cold.” She smirks at him before she steps indoors. Seungkwan finds himself scoffing in response.  

TWELVE. MIMOSAS

I remember when my friend told us to meet at this brunch place she really liked because the mimosas were good the last time she went. But we ended up having a sober brunch because we forgot that we had somebody’s birthday party to attend the night before. The food was good and the vibes were good, but we were all hungover. Sober brunch sounds wrong, but it’s not bad at all. Really. It’s not bad. But we should go sometime. I heard the Mimosas are good.

YN

He dug the eraser into the flimsy page of his notebook and erased the same mistake over and over until his hands crinkled the page and the friction of the eraser against the paper left a noticeable tear in the page. You watched his frustration continue to unfold as he haphazardly swiped the eraser crumbs off his notebook, flinging them to the middle of the circular table where you were sitting.

The third person at the table flicked the singular eraser shaving that landed on his pencil case back at its owner before shoving the plastic mesh pouch into his backpack along with his study notes without a folder. Vernon, with his poorly dyed auburn hair that curled and covered his eyes, took out his metal water bottle from his backpack to make room for his textbooks. He quickly zipped his backpack and flung it over his shoulder before grabbing his water bottle. The water bottle's ice cubes clanged loudly against its interior and caused multiple students in the library to look in his direction. He looked at you before looking at Jeonghan, who looked stressed enough to rip his eraser in half and looked back at you with an apologetic look on his face.

“You want my fortune cookie fortune from today? It has special numbers,” Vernon suggested as he stood up and pushed in his hair.

“No,” Jeonghan mumbled in response.

“Well I wasn’t going to give it to you anyway,” Vernon taunted in return. He looked at the wall clock in the corner of the library and clicked his tongue before waving goodbye to you.

You watched the younger student as he walked over to the elevators and rapidly pushed the elevator button to hitch a ride to the first floor before giving up and choosing to take the stairs. The elevator dinged and made itself known to the entire floor the minute the fire escape door closed behind Vernon. To your left, Jeonghan, whom you found to be good company over the last month, stared at his history notes like he was trying to decipher the writing on an ancient clay tablet.

“I don’t get it,” he whined while he reached for your notes to compare with his.

You scooted your chair closer to him to get a better look at the two spiral notebooks on the table. Handwriting defined by its heaviness, Jeonghan’s scrawled history notes were defined by the broadness and heavy indents in each etch. Despite each heavily scribbled word, there were clear and evenly defined spaces between each word and character. Your handwriting, however, was slanted and connected through loops, and your inability to lift your pencil off the paper between each character you wrote. Its overall messiness made you want to rewrite everything after you compared it to Jeonghan’s handwriting. Still, you looked at the content written between both notebooks and found that there weren’t any differences between the notes. After all, the two of you were taking the same class.

“I gave you my notes and also studied with you these past two weeks. If you still don’t get it you can look it up online or memorize things word for word. It’s just history,” you mused while sliding your notebook closer to him so you could go back to your homework. “What did you even get on the midterm?”

“Full marks…” he replied in an almost embarrassed whisper. “With extra credit.”

The look you shot him was an inexplicable blend of confusion, annoyance, and humor. You thought that if Jeonghan was able to score above full marks on a midterm, there was no reason for him to ask you to study with him after class.

“Shouldn’t you be the one tutoring us instead?” You raised a brow at him while he looked back at you with amusement. “Do you even get the material?”

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, and you wanted to take your pointer finger to pull it back down. Yoon Jeonghan crossed his arms and turned his body toward you, making you lean back just a little in response. You watched as the familiar lazy half-smile reappeared on his face, this time partnered with an unreadable expression.

“I get the material.” Maybe it was the way the sun from the windows across the room hit his face at the exact moment, but you swore you saw his eyes glimmer for a nanosecond. “Maybe it’s you who doesn’t get it.”

When he realized he wasn’t pulling a response out of you, he visibly gave up and looked you in the eye. “Yn,” he stated.

“Yes,” you replied.

“I was trying to hit on you this whole time.”

“Huh?” This was not how you thought the conversation was going to go. The truth came down on you like the warm sunlight in the library, allowing you to finally understand the nuanced ways Jeonghan tried to get closer to you since the first time he introduced himself to you. And it filled your heart the same way it did when the handsome Jeonghan approached you while you were eating with your friends.

“Go on a date with me? Without Vernon next time.”

“Okay.”

THIRTEEN. BAKLAVA

Thin sheets of pre-made phyllo, the lady in the video said to cover them so they wouldn’t dry. With only her voice, she tells us not to worry if we tear the fragile sheets of unleavened dough. As if it were her telling us that it’s okay if we break something that is fragile even if we handled it with the utmost care. As if it’s okay if we mess up. It’s just phyllo. It’s just dessert. It’s just baklava. You’re a first-timer. Cover the sheet with ghee and then add another layer of phyllo. It’s going to be okay. There was something so comforting in her words, as if she were my own baklava guardian. Telling me it’s okay if mistakes are made, she continues phyllo, ghee, phyllo, ghee, phyllo until it’s stacked to a specific length. Then it’s nuts and the numerous layers of phyllo and ghee. Make the baklava, still careful when handling the fragile sheets of phyllo, but forgiving of simple mistakes. Lessons in baklava. Sweetness in sticky orange syrup. Mouthwatering dessert and a soothed heart.

SEUNGKWAN

Squishy orchard soil, not yet dry from the rainfall a few nights ago, is loose enough to track mud splatters against calves. Seungkwan and Terry walk alongside each other. Mud suctioned against the bottoms of their shoes, clipboards in hand, they leave tracks wherever they walk. Broken branches and fallen oranges are accounted for, but soil erosion is what Seungkwan is most concerned about. Terry, however, cheerfully walks alongside their friend while leading their conversation about niche trivia regarding agriculture.

“Also, I learned something from a trivia question I answered wrong yester-”

A scream pierces the conversation from a distance and causes the two to stop in their tracks in the middle of the orchard. Seungkwan’s eyes follow his hearing, turning his head toward where the scream came from. Overturned ATV and a wagonful of oranges behind it, Seungkwan’s heart drops when he realizes the severity of the scene. Seokmin is already on the scene, visibly fearful yet determined to help the person who drove the ATV.

Terry is already running across the field and heading toward the accident. “Noah” they yell, their light flannel flapping behind them as they run. Noah’s name, carried by the breeze, alerts those it passes. It notifies Seungcheol. Alex. You.

As if struggling to drag himself through the mud, Seungkwan tries to run, although lethargic in his strides. Something is holding him back. Is it the way the ATV fell over in a way that even the damp mud would never allow? Or is it the way the wagon of oranges is still magically hooked and attached to the ATV with not one of the oranges in the pyramid leaving its stack? By the time Seungkwan makes his way over, Seokmin already has her upright and leaning against him for support.

“It’s just a light sprain.” Seungkwan hears Noah say through a hiss. “This rock. It came out of nowhere. Believe me Seok. I’ve never seen it before…Seungkwan! This was never here before? Right?”

Seungkwan walks toward where Noah points. To the side of the ATV, in the middle of two rows of orange trees, a rock protruding out of the ground sits proudly. However, the land around the rock is extremely flat. There is no sign of erosion at all. And Seungkwan has walked this orchard long enough to know that there were no bumps to indicate a rock of that size and stature.

“No,” Seungkwan confirms. The existence of this rock wracks Seungkwan's mind. “You’re right. It was never there.”

“See?” It came out as a plea. She looked at Seokmin and pointed at Seungkwan. “I wasn’t going too fast. It was the ro- Ow! Fuck!”

“I’m sorry,” Seokmin apologetically mumbles. “Get on my back. Let me carry you.”

Seungcheol arrives, bent over and panting. He places his hands on his thighs to take a breath. Alex arrives shortly after, panting but also with a fearful look on his face. He tries to speak, but Seungkwan motions for him to slow down and catch his breath before starting. He’s never seen Alex act like this before. Alex, possibly the only person on the farm who could almost match Soonyoung’s entire personality and energy, stutters as he tries to talk while catching his breath. Seungkwan observes how he breathes a little too hard for someone who only ran a couple of meters, to realize that Alex looks like he's seen a ghost. Alex crumples to his knees, landing with his palms against the wet mud. 

“Shit.” Seungkwan immediately rushes over to Alex’s side, placing his hand on his back. Worry erupts in his body, its lava traveling through his veins. “Breathe, Alex.”

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol calls.

“What?” Seungkwan’s tone is a bit unrightfully agitated. Thinking about it, even he agrees that his glare was uncalled for.

“Yn.”

Seungkwan pats Alex’s back twice before he looks over to where he saw you previously run. Seungkwan has trouble trying to locate you as you are nowhere to be seen until he finally sees a lump on the ground between trees a few rows away from where he is standing.

A lump in the mud, hands pushing yourself up from the ground, you rise to your full height. But you can’t because your legs are nowhere to be seen.

FOURTEEN. BUDAPESTBAKELSE

Do you know what it feels like to give into what you thought you hated the most? To give up and give in and end up loving what you once condemned? Beautiful and decadent was this roll on display. Budapestbakelse on the tiny card on a stand. Thought they were mangoes peeking through the whipped cream in the magnificent rolls. Delicate hazelnut meringue cake tickled with the burst of the oranges, I fell in love through my hurt. Where did my hate come from? How could I hate something that gives me so much joy?

YN

Soft kiss on your lips, the feeling lingered on your lips before it faded. Too embarrassed to look him in the eye, you opted to look at his lips. Perky cupid’s bow and the muted dark pink of his lip balm, his lips could only remind you that his hand was still holding your cheek with his thumb resting on the corner of your lips. Delicate was his touch, cupping his love and waiting for an answer to his future. Your future. A future together where you both loved each other if the present permitted it.

Courage built up in your heart, you decided to tell him before it was too late. How everything and everybody you loved disappeared. Not sure if it was a curse or not, but you told him it was a condition that was perpetually fixable if those around you noticed what was missing. Seungkwan’s name left your lips like it was second nature. Then Yunling’s. Then Terry’s. Then Noah's. You listed your helpers with the thought that he could also be one for you as he was the one with whom you were most intimate. Yoon Jeonghan, whom you’ve been in a relationship with for the past month — who pulled you to his side and introduced you to his friends as his, who told you he loved you the moment he felt it within him — you finally told him in that used car of his.

You kissed him again on the cheek before you left his car with your backpack. He was quiet while he took time to process the information. That action of his was what you liked about him. You liked his clinginess towards you and his drive to manifest everything and anything he wanted through hard work. Your friends liked him too and squealed whenever he brought snacks and drinks for all of them while he visited when you were studying. You liked how, despite processing the information, he still managed to smile when you kissed him on the cheek goodbye. And you liked how he always stayed in the car even after you locked the door behind you.

His goodbye text came before he started the car. The notification made your heart race as you pulled out your phone from the front pocket of your backpack.

Goodbye, it read. I don’t think this is going to work out for us, another text. Bye. 

Yoon Jeonghan threw away the relationship before it could reach its next stage.

FIFTEEN. CROSTINI

Cream cheese and orange marmalade spread on store-bought crostini topped with prosciutto, we ate these like we depended on them. When the prosciutto ran out, we ate them with cream cheese and marmalade. When the crostini ran out, we ate the leftover cream cheese with our spoons and swiped the remainder off the foil wrapper with our pointer fingers. It’ll be okay. We don’t know when exactly it will get better, but it’ll get better. Don’t make the same mistakes as we did back then. Clearance section cream cheese and prosciutto? That morning after could not possibly be tamer than what you’re currently going through. You can do it…just like you’ve done before.

SEUNGKWAN

Lowered center of mass, he keeps your body balanced on his shoulders as he increases his stability in his squats. Heels dig into the ground as he keeps his chest up, grunting as he comes up from a squat. Soonyoung watches Jihoon use you as his weight, patiently waiting for his turn to use you as his gym weight while reminding Jihoon to protect his knees by keeping them behind his toes.

The rain from last Tuesday never really left — it only migrated from one area to the next: from the countryside to the city to the mountains. What could have been a nice Sunday afternoon hiking trip for the group was unfortunately obstructed by emergency text notifications regarding

avalanche warnings in the mountains. With all of the cars gone, Jihoon and Soonyoung could only resort to creating their own mini gym in the entryway of the house to work in some exercise before their next shift on the farm. The only person willing to work out with them was the only person who thought it would be funny if they used them as their weights.

Seungkwan watches everything from the kitchen, observing the gym heads at work and how Jeonghan casually walks out of your room while carrying your backpack on his back for you. It seems to Seungkwan that the distance between Jeonghan and you has closed a significant distance. Jeonghan, who even struggled to knock on your door, is now comfortable enough to walk in and out of your room even without you present. But he doesn’t want to be too quick to judge. After all, Jeonghan is his friend. Seeing how your mobility is limited, you would technically need someone to help you do things for you. Jealousy makes Seungkwan wonder why Jeonghan would be the one you go to for help.

So Seungkwan chooses to stay quiet while he continues to scrub his dishes in the sink. He rinses his batter-covered dish sponge under the tap, squeezes some of the water out, and tosses dish soap on the sponge before lathering it again. He pretends to be interested in the suds that slide and glide on his orange kitchen gloves. God, how he hates that even his grandparents’ kitchen gloves are also orange. They’ve only been gone for a little over two weeks, but Seungkwan can’t help but miss them. After stumbling upon a recipe book on the office shelves while hanging out with you, Seungkwan thought that a little baking to pass the time that was supposed to be spent hiking in the mountains could soothe his lonely heart.

Still, his hands are at work, yet his ears stay alert. He hears Jeonghan tell the three that it’s time for their shift on the farm. There’s a brief moment of silence that causes Seungkwan to look up from his dishes. He sees Jeonghan take you from Jihoon’s arms, opting to playfully tuck you under his right arm instead of holding you in both his arms. There is a complaint from you telling him to hold you properly instead of carrying you like a briefcase. The playful banter between the two of you marks your departure from the house with Jihoon following suit. Soonyoung stays behind.

Soonyoung makes his way toward the kitchen, and Seungkwan keeps his head low, turning on the tap and cleaning his sponge before he rinses his dishes. The refrigerator door opens and shuts within a few seconds. Seungkwan is barely able to put his sponge back in its sponge tray

within those seconds.

“Smells good,” Soonyoung comments while digging around the cabinets for something. A blender bottle. He grabs the communal tub of protein powder from the countertop that aligns the wall and brings it to the island where Seungkwan washes his dishes. “Can we eat it later?”

Seungkwan huffs when he hears Soonyoung’s question. Asking if he can eat whatever is in the oven instead of asking what it is. Typical. He starts setting his rinsed dishes on the dry towel to the side of Soonyoung. Soonyoung dumps a few scoops of the powder into his bottle and turns the lid of the protein powder tub shut. He turns around to put the tub back where it came from and then goes back to the clean plates, bringing it upon himself to load them into the dish dryer for his friend.

A question has been bothering Seungkwan for the past few days, a question strong enough to make him whip a meringue cake without an electric whisk. Like a prisoner in his mouth, the question wants to escape into the open. But every single time he sees you interact with Jeonghan, even if it’s just a simple wave, Seungkwan can’t help but feel a little down. The question wracks his brain and eats away at his heart so much that he hates himself for feeling jealousy towards two people. The only person who might be able to answer his question is the one who abandoned his blender bottle to help his friend load the dishes.

“If you have a question, you can ask me,” Soonyoung offers out of nowhere. He grabs the chain of measuring spoons from Seungkwan’s hand and places them in the dryer for him. “Especially if it’s about them.”

There are times when Seungkwan tends to forget that Soonyoung is older than him. The problem does not really lie in his age, but in the way he presents himself. Soonyoung, goofy and energetic, is not really someone Seungkwan turns to when he needs to confide in someone. However, it doesn’t mean that Soonyoung isn’t capable of harboring emotional intelligence. In fact, the way that Soonyoung sees the world is precious. He looks at everything around him in a way that captivates him so much that he becomes a Little Prince in a big circular Earth. He sees the world as it is — simple yet beautiful. Simplicity, in Soonyoung’s mind, is the aesthetics of reasoning and the beauty of living. Seungkwan knows that Soonyoung knows what’s on his mind. It’s simple. So he asks him:

“Is there something going on between them?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung replies. Simple. “Jeonghan’s trying to get back together with Yn.”

“You’re not gonna tell me more?”

Soonyoung grabs something from the fridge and fills his bottle with it. “Nah,” he replies while shutting the fridge, “It’s not my place to tell. But cheer up. It’s just Jeonghan.”

“It’s just Jeonghan” probably sounded a lot better in Soonyoung’s head, but the statement only sends Seungkwan into a further state of anxiousness and jealousy. He knows he shouldn’t feel that way, but it’s hard not to when Soonyoung basically confirms that two people are currently pining over you. 

After Soonyoung heads toward the farm, Seungkwan stands alone in the kitchen, thinking about how dumb he was for believing that Jeonghan only wanted to reconcile the relationship to become friends again. A little part of him finds himself hating the hypothetical you who would be willing to get back with someone who literally tore their heart into pieces. The exact same heart that Seungkwan spent weeks mending.

And the dynamics. Gosh, Seungkwan, a lover of consistency, especially hates change when it comes to group dynamics. He wonders about how the dynamics of the current group would change if the two got back together. He wonders how the dynamics between you and him would change if you really got back together with Jeonghan.

Deep in thought, only the smell of something burning can alarm Seungkwan before he can hear his timer go off. And the air of the room, once sweet and citrusy, is replaced with something acrid and burnt. Stress causes him to freeze, and Seungkwan can only watch as Terry rushes into the kitchen to throw open the oven door.

“Fire alarm,” Terry yells at him. “Fan at the fire alarm while I grab your cake.”

SIXTEEN. ORANGE AND HERB MARINATED FETA

Use orange zest for these. Good cheese too. Marinate it for at least half a day in the fridge. Overnight is best. But nobody is going to judge if you get a little bit ahead of yourself. Why is it so normal to shame one’s excitement? Why do we look down upon people for the trivial things that make them happy? It’s just cheese, you know. I’d be happy if I got to sneak a few pieces before it’s properly marinated.

YN

Warmth was his kindness as he held you in his arms while you let your tears roll onto his crew neck. Heartbreak was on the table, and you were served. Yet Boo Seungkwan, who smelled of dirt and his city garden internship, made sure he was always there to clear away the plates. Chest heavy and your eyes sore and puffy, heartbreak hit you in waves following the day Jeonghan dumped you on the same day he told you he loved you.

You were always interested in how heartbreak felt. The internet never gave you a straightforward answer. Seeing your friends suffer from one heartbreak to another was never enough to show you how it would feel. And you were never sure if you were ever going to experience heartbreak. Not that you wanted to be a masochist, but you couldn’t help but be interested in something you never felt before. You wanted to be prepared in case you were able to experience it someday. Maybe that one day might be the day you felt the most human.

It always felt weird, like an invisible exclusionary line that separated you from the rest of the world. Your curse. Your illness. Your whatever you wanted to call it. Why did it have to be you who lost everything you loved?

With nobody to be mad at, you could only be mad at yourself. How you spent years letting yourself be defined by your curse so much that you lived every day tiptoeing around anything and anyone because you were afraid to fall in love. Because of that, you never really had an absolute understanding of what love was or what love felt like. And it sucked when your friends told you that even they couldn’t tell you a definitive answer as to what love was.

Then came Jeonghan. A shining beam of light in your wandering, you lunged at him both figuratively and literally with the hope that he could be the one who changed you. You thought that maybe if you were able to be in a relationship with him, you could feel more human. This didn’t mean that you faked your way through your relationship with him. No. You weren’t that kind of person. You had a crush on him. You liked him. You liked being his. But you weren’t given a chance to love him.

This time, you weren’t sure if that chance was tarnished because he was afraid of you loving him or you were afraid of loving him.

“Fuck.” You sniffed while wiping your eye with the collar of your shirt. “Is this what heartbreak feels like?”

“Feels like?” Seungkwan’s tone sounded like he was offended for some reason. He pulled away from his embrace to reach toward your desk to grab a few tissues from your tissue box to hand them to you. “You’re going through a heartbreak.”

Defensive is what you felt upon hearing Seungkwan’s reply. This sinking feeling in your heart that came and went whenever it pleased, you had trouble understanding it as heartbreak. So you replied, “But I didn’t even love him.”

Did you love him? Could the strong affection you felt towards him as well as the peace you felt within your heart be signs that you loved him? Did your love find a new way to drive another person away? If anything, all of that led to you admitting to your best friend that you felt a fear creeping and building within you. You were scared of falling for somebody in the future if it meant that this entire ordeal would happen again. Yet the fear of falling in love and knowing the person you loved is going to disappear was something that you continued to let define your present and future.

“An ordeal?” Seungkwan sounded more offended than he should be in the current situation. “You don’t have to lessen heartbreak as a means of trying to overcome the situation by calling it something less than it is. You’re young. I’m young. We’re supposed to date around, break hearts, get heartbroken, and discover ourselves during our twenties. I would never forgive you if you spent your twenties hung up about a man, so please live your life to the fullest whenever you can.”

“But what if…” You were hesitant to finish the thought, but the very fact that you were with the person you trusted with your entire heart allowed you to finish speaking. “…what if I fall in love with myself while I’m discovering myself?”

The thought of disappearing from the world sucked you dry. You felt like your insides were sucked into a cosmic black hole that formed inside of your body, body concaving and making you shrivel. Then came the immense amount of guilt you always carried with you, the guilt of knowing that you made people disappear on multiple occasions. You were scared of making people disappear as you were equally scared of disappearing yourself. It wasn’t the fact that you didn’t know what came next after disappearing. It was the fact that you were scared of disappearing because you thought that you were not important enough to have someone notice that you disappeared. It scared you.

“Why don’t you fall in love with yourself?” His question.

“I’m scared of being forgotten.” Your answer.

“I don’t think I can ever forget someone like you.” His honest answer.

A sad smile. Your vague answer. You knew that you could never put as much effort into your friendship with Seungkwan as he does because you were scared of loving him as a friend. Yet love was so twisted. You struggled to understand how it was that you didn’t love Seungkwan as a friend. You would probably launch yourself in front of a bus if it meant saving him. You would give him your entire bank account if he needed it. You would always rely on him if you were sad. So how was it that it was not love? Why was it that Seungkwan was not gone? And why was it that Seungkwan chose to stick around even when he knew that you were constantly restraining yourself from giving as much as he did?

Boo Seungkwan had quite literally become one of the only constants in your cursed life, and you were doing everything that you could to keep him from disappearing. Because you knew that there was probably nobody else in this world who would understand you as much as Boo Seungkwan.

SEVENTEEN. FREEKEH SALAD

I had this friend who would always buy this at the grocery store for every single potluck. And every single potluck you could see his name under the dishes section with this same salad written next to his name. It wasn’t like anybody complained or anything. He would bring the salad, and we would eat it. One time, I found myself craving this grocery store salad after a workout so I went and bought the same one in the same container I’ve seen so many times. But when I was able to sit down to eat it, I realized that the flavor was off. And it wracked my mind. I had a picture of the container taken on my phone so I knew I bought the correct item. Even the ingredients were the same. I tasted the salad so many times that I knew that there was no way that this salad that I was eating was the same as the salad I ate multiple times at the potluck. So I reached out to him. Turns out, he would add orange slices and drizzle some of that orange juice left over from cutting the oranges into the salad. Who would’ve thought. It was a tiny extra step that he never talked about. Yet comparing the original salad to his salad, it made me wonder just about how much of what I know I do not know.

SEUNGKWAN

Not yet the end of the summer, nine people arrange themselves on the front porch of the house while the afternoon sun shines on them. A tripod is being set up by two people who have yet to join the group. Silver van parked on the cul-de-sac, the remaining two finish loading suitcases into the trunk and slam it shut when they finish their task. The seasons have changed for a while now; now it’s time for someone’s season to progress onto a new one.

Boo Seungkwan watches Seungcheol and Alex as they jog back to the group. Morgan and Soonyoung have finally finished setting up the tripod with the added mini-lesson from Morgan who taught Soonyoung how to take pictures from his phone by using his smartwatch. Sadness is stored in Boo Seungkwan’s chest, already creeping up his throat.

They’ve been wasting away under the burning summer sun when they could’ve been running the farm with the wasted time. One can easily blame Soonyoung for his lack of knowledge regarding technology despite having the best phone on the market, which led to the loss of time. And the father’s inability to pack all of his and his daughter’s things until the very morning could also be a potential subject of blame. Yet nobody complains about wasting time. They could never. Wasted time, in this case, was a gift that kept loved ones from leaving.

Granted, the father-daughter duo are only moving their stuff back to their place in the city while Seungcheol has to attend a few “IRL side quests” (as Terry likes to put it) disguised as in-person meetings for his job. Seungkwan is still making Seungcheol come back for free labor until the end of the season. Nonetheless, the very thought of two beloved people leaving for only a few days is enough to cause forlornness to wash over the group.

Seungkwan sees how Seungcheol’s aura of happiness shines brighter than it has for a while. There is a newfound energy in his friend, and Seungkwan could never be more proud of him. So, taking a group picture to commemorate friendship and new beginnings seems fitting for this day.

“Hey Kwan.” Your voice causes Seungkwan to respond by looking down at your upper body in his arms. He props up his right knee to lift your body higher so he can properly talk to you. “You can put me down whenever you’re tired.”

“I’ll never be tired,” he replies.

Seungkwan isn't trying to make his conversation with you private, nor is he expecting anybody to listen, but he sees Seungcheol in the corner of his eye smiling at him. An actual smile, the kind where the smile is so big that his eyes squint and tiny smiles form on the outer corners of his eyes. He’s not sure if the older guy is smiling because of his conversation with you or the fact that him holding you in his arms visually parallels how Seungcheol is carrying his baby in his arms, but he doesn’t really think anything of it. Although Seungkwan is finding it harder to read his friends nowadays, he’s just happy that Seungcheol is finally in a state where he’s ready to move on with life.

“Come on everybody,” Soonyoung shouts while running back to join the group on the porch. “Let’s take the group photo.”

EIGHTEEN. SCREWDRIVER

If you think about it, a Screwdriver is like a Mimosa’s rebellious sibling. But only if they were from a refined family or not even refined. I don’t even think refined is a good word for it. But it’s like in the movies where it’s set in a prestigious private school or something and there’s this one rebellious student who “wears” the school uniform but in a different way. Yeah. Okay. I’m not good at explaining things am I?

YN

Bodies squished against one another on the worn-down brown couch originally bought as a flea market passed from one graduating friend to another, the bodies tried to scoot closer to each other to accommodate everybody who wanted to join the drinking game at the party. What could better define a graduation rager than a fun little Truth or Dare happening in the living room of some random acquaintance’s apartment?

The strip of LED lights that wrapped around only a quarter of the living room’s edges was enough to illuminate the small university apartment. The music from the speaker was synched to the lights, causing the lights to pulse and switch colors every few seconds. There were enough people packed inside the apartment to cause every firefighter’s arm hair to tingle. A game of beer pong took place on the dining room table. The sound of the ping pong ball hitting the insides of the cup was drowned out by the cheers. Graduation was over, and there were only a few days before the apartment leases ended for everybody. Tonight, every apartment unit was celebrating.

You found yourself on the floor, your legs tucked uncomfortably to the side of your body because your jeans couldn’t allow you to cross your legs. Two red plastic cups were passed to you, the contents being several strips of folded truths and dares for you to choose from. The cups weren’t heavy themselves because the weight of having to choose between truth or dare felt heavier. Center of attention, you didn’t know whether you should be a bit adventurous and go for the dares or play it safe but risk not wanting to spill something and drink from the disgusting concoction that Vernon and Yunling came up with on a whim as a punishment if you picked from the other cup. Plus, you knew and were close to everybody participating in the game, so you knew that they wouldn’t judge you based on the decision you were about to make. So you stuck your hand in one of the cups and pulled out the truth you had to answer openly.

With the slip of paper tucked in your palm, you gingerly placed the cups on the coffee table in front of you by pushing away the mess of opened hard seltzers and cheap beers from the liquor store next to the wholesale store a few blocks down the street. Anticipation caused your fingers to quiver as you opened the slightly damp piece of paper that was in your hand. And you read what was scribbled on there loudly, “Is there anybody in the room that you like?” But your voice faltered as you hit the end of the question.

Suddenly, your corner of the apartment became a couple of decibels quieter than the rest of the apartment. Half of the Screwdriver you drank along with a bunch of other liquids sat uncomfortably in the pit of your stomach. Everybody knew about your curse and about the breakup that happened. It was only a simple little truth to answer, so how could it change the atmosphere of such a lively party so quickly?

Seungkwan, who sat beside you, took it upon to snatch the piece of paper between your thumb and pointer finger to read for himself. He laughed a little too loudly as if it were forced. And he pushed your bicep with his right hand as if to make it seem like he was kidding around with you. “Oh my god” is what you remembered him gasping before you reached over to grab Terry’s unfinished drink on the coffee table.

“Yn, you’re drunk! It clearly says ‘Is there anybody in the room who is most like you?’” Seungkwan waved the piece of paper in the air with the blank back facing the circle of friends as a sort of ethos to support his claim and dropped it in his drunken stupor.

Rim of the can to your lips, you knew what you read. Seungkwan told a white lie for you.

“Whoever wrote that has to take a shot. Couldn’t you have thought of something juicier?” Seungkwan huffed before grabbing your wrist in his hand, pulling the can away from your mouth in the process. You picked up the piece of paper and pocketed it before you allowed him to pull you away. “We’re going to go to the balcony so they can get some air and sober up a bit. You guys keep playing.”

NINETEEN. PORTOKALOPITA

Heaven in a bite melts in your mouth into a pool of orange and vanilla. Heat of an unusually warm Autumn day opts you to pay extra to add a scoop of ice cream on top. Did you ever need a reason to treat yourself to something as small as a scoop of ice cream on top of a slice of Portokalopita? Does it count as cheating to want to indulge in something from time to time? The world shouldn’t feel like it’s going to end if you do something out of the ordinary or if you spend a little extra for something that you may not remember eating a couple months down the road. The truth is, we’re not going to remember exactly how we felt in the present in the future. We may remember being happy, but there will come a time in which you forget what exactly it was that made you happy…what it was that made you sad. It’s just life. It’s just cake. Even if you’re not going to remember in the future, wouldn’t you like to grant yourself that tiny bit of fleeting happiness?

SEUNGKWAN

It’s over, he thinks.

Boo Seungkwan lies awake in the dark on his side of the large shared mattress. Two soft pillows comfortably prop up his head, and the air conditioning in the room brings the room to his preferred sleeping temperature. Nevertheless, Seungkwan is finding it especially hard to sleep. Whenever he closes his eyes, he cannot stop seeing the scene of Jeonghan holding you in his lap the whole time everybody was in the backyard roasting marshmallows. And when he opens his eyes to stare at the ceiling above him, he can’t stop himself from thinking about how comfortable Jeonghan looked when Jeonghan would hunch his back a little to rest his chin on top of your head while he kept his arm wrapped securely around your stomach to keep you from falling off of his legs. It renders Seungkwan jealous.

It's time to give up, he thinks to himself no matter how much that idea hurts him. Give it up for Boo Seungkwan for finally realizing his feelings for you, only to have the guy who usually sleeps next to him be one step ahead of him. Or even several steps ahead of him. But Seungkwan is much too nice of a guy to even think about ruining a blossoming relationship between two exes to get what he wants even if the person he wants is one of the aforementioned friends. He wants to wish the two of his friends well no matter how much thinking about the two of them possibly getting together in the near future hurts him and makes him feel like crumbling. Even lying flat in the dark bedroom makes him want to cry so much that his tears escape his tear ducts through the outer corners of his eyes and fall along his face to wet the tips of his ears and then land on the pillow.

Extremely jealous and desolate on the inside is how he feels. He thinks about what he could have possibly done in the past to allow him to be in the same position as Jeonghan was tonight. Piercing sadness strikes through his gut, and it pins him to his bed. This feeling that makes him immobile is worse than the feeling of waking up in the middle of the night and being unable to move even the tips of his fingers.

Where he excused himself from his group of friends early, claiming that he was feeling more tired than usual, he now finds himself alone with his thoughts while life animates the rest of the house. He hears bits of laughter that escape from the living room and footsteps above his head. Seungkwan’s lie was not a lie at all — he does feel tired, but in a way that dries his eyes and eats at his insides. He’s too tired to socialize. He’s much too tired to think about tomorrow. He’s exhausted thinking about love and friendship.

A rectangular ray of light disrupts the dark ceiling for a brief second before it disappears. Yoon Jeonghan closes the bedroom door behind him while he’s careful to walk lightly and quietly to his side of the bed in the dark. Pretending to be asleep, Seungkwan closes his eyes to avoid confrontation with his friend. It’s a childish move, but what can he do?

Seungkwan’s body slightly dips to the left when Jeonghan climbs into bed. Jeonghan is doing his best to not wake his friend because, for all he knows, Seungkwan has probably been asleep for a while. Jeonghan showered earlier in the evening, but Seungkwan can still smell the scent of the fragrant smoked wood on Jeonghan.

He doesn’t know how long it has been since Jeonghan got into bed. The two of them are silent. The room is uncomfortably silent.

It’s so silent that Seungkwan can hear the tiny crackle Jeonghan’s lips and saliva make when he opens his mouth to speak. “Are you awake?” Seungkwan hears his friend ask him.

“Yeah.” He finds himself automatically replying. He feels so dumb. “Can’t fall asleep. You?” He doesn’t know why he’s being so honest with Jeonghan.

“Nah,” Jeonghan admits. He brings his left hand up to his mouth to clear his throat before awkwardly folding his hands on his stomach as if he is mentally preparing himself to say something confessional. “I uh- I kissed Yn.”

There it is.

At that moment, it felt like the end of the world, is what Seungkwan currently wishes he felt. But he doesn’t. The confession doesn’t pain him either. The feeling he currently feels while trying to absorb the fact that Jeonghan kissed you feels so disgusting. It makes him feel disgusting, yet it also numbs him so much that he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Is it the feeling of his world crashing down? Not really. It’s as if he knew that it was going to happen despite how much he did not want it to happen. Like a harsh reality slap to his entire body. That’s what it is. Somehow, he finds himself mustering up the courage to ask Jeonghan what happened.

“They kissed me back.” Jeonghan answers, but there isn’t any pride in his voice. To Seungkwan, he sounded kind of sad. Dejected.

Jeonghan’s hair ruffles as he turns his head so that his right cheek lays against his pillow. He wants to make proper conversation with Seungkwan by looking at him. Feeling incredibly hurt, Seungkwan can’t bring himself to face him.

“Kwan. Do you know what a pity kiss is?” Jeonghan almost whispers as if he is admitting a fault.

“Why would you ask me about that?” Seungkwan grumbles while pulling the sheets closer to him.

“They kissed me back only because they pitied me.” Jeonghan turns his body so he’s leaning on his right side. He moves his right arm towards his head so he can prop himself up. “I mean, it’s not like they were leading me on this whole time. I was only getting ahead of myself. It was a pity kiss, Seungkwan. They pitied me. I think they’re appreciative that I’ve been trying to repair what I broke, but I know for a fact that Yn never planned to get back with me even if we became friends again.”

Seungkwan feels Jeonghan stroke his hair by running his fingers through his bangs and straightening it out for him. It’s as if Jeonghan is simultaneously trying to mend what could become a broken friendship with Seungkwan before it happens. Seungkwan is hardheaded as to how truly soft-hearted the mature Jeonghan is.

There’s a soft smile on Jeonghan’s lips as he continues to stoke his friend’s hair. He feels pity for himself. “I know you hated me for messing up in the past, and even now I regret letting go of Yn because I was afraid. I don’t know what I was so afraid of. I ended up still liking Yn even if half of them is physically missing.”

Seungkwan turns his body so he’s facing away from Jeonghan. He doesn’t get why Jeonghan is telling him so much. Is Jeonghan trying to rub it in his face that he finally understood what Seungkwan and the rest of the world knew when they were back in college? His eyebrows are furrowed with stress, and it would take more than a hot iron to flatten them out.

Jeonghan lets his left hand drop before taking it upon himself to pull the sheets over Seungkwan’s body. “There’s no use in pursuing them anymore. I let hope get the best of me.”

“Oh” is the only thing that Seungkwan can manage to say. He doesn’t really know how to continue the conversation with the older man or if he should even continue the currently one-sided conversation because he also likes you. Really likes you to the point where it feels almost obsessive given how much he thinks about liking you.

“God,” Jeonghan groans while grabbing Seungkwan’s shoulder to shake him. “Stop being dumb. If you like Yn then make sure you tell them before you live the rest of your life being regretful because you didn’t do something when you had the chance. Stop being so stubborn and confess your feelings. There’s no need for courtesy when it comes to love.”

“Yes there is,” Seungkwan snaps at Jeonghan. He sits up in a fit of madness and tosses his legs over the edge of the bed. “I need water.”

“You need to tell them how you feel.”

The walk from the bedroom, down the hallway, past the living room, and into the kitchen feels like the longest journey of Seungkwan’s life. When he finally gets to the kitchen, he sees a few people walk out of your room. He grabs a cup from the cabinet and fills it up the cup with water while trying to make it seem like he’s not staring at the people exiting your room. He sees them wave and say “goodnight” while shutting the lights and closing the door for you because you can’t do it yourself.

Thoughts cloud Seungkwan’s head. There’s a huge part of him that wants to knock on your door after all of the others have gone to bed, but he doesn’t want to be a bother. So he tells himself that he will eventually confess to you. He just doesn’t know when.

TWENTY. MADRAS COCKTAIL

Get this. If a Screwdriver and a Mimosa are family members, then the Madras is like the cool single aunt. Or even like the coolest older sister who you always wanted to be like when you grew up. It’s just cranberry juice, orange juice, vodka, and some lime juice if you’re feeling a little extra. She’s cool. She’s sweet. She’s sour. She’s everything you’re not. But that doesn’t mean you’re any less than what you think yourself to be. You’ll get there some day.

YN

“You okay?” Seungkwan asked you after shutting the balcony door behind him.

“Yeah,” you meekly replied while you leaned against the black metallic balcony railing. “Thanks for saving me.”

“If I still need to save you from a little game of Truth or Dare, then how are you going to survive without me by your side all the time?” Seungkwan joined you to your right, leaned his forearms against the railing, and looked below towards the apartment parking lot.

Down below, a couple of people were moving out of their apartments and loading boxes filled with an ending chapter of their lives into their cars. There were a couple of inebriated stragglers who stumbled around and sat on curbs. And there were the people on the balconies who stepped out to look beyond their tiny apartments to see the world around them only to be met with the view of a parking lot and a gas station in the distance.

If people were stepping out to do all kinds of things, what did you step out for? You struggled to find meaning in escaping an awkward scenario during a drinking game with your friends and felt even more trapped with the fact that you stepped out onto the balcony where you were hit with the reality of not being with these people you shared days and nights with for years.

“I don’t know” is what you came up with. It was fine to not know. You spent your whole life avoiding not knowing, escaping unthinkable truths. If you spent your whole life dedicated to prevention, then who were you trying to protect? And were who you were trying to protect worth protecting at all? There was so much meaning in everything around you, and it constantly seemed like people were trying to find meaning in their lives, trying to find meaning in anything they could find. You knew that Seungkwan wanted to work in the city gardens to find meaning in his life so that he was not tied down to his family farm. He had tons of friends and people he loved, a future he wanted, and meaning to his life. And he still promised that nothing was going to change between the two of you, that he would stay by your side for his entire life if he could. But did you want that for him? Did you want to keep him by your side just because he was one of the only few people in this world who truly understood you? Or was there some deeper meaning that you have not yet found or considered?

“I’m going to miss you,” you told him.

Even under the dimly lit balcony light, you could see how red his ears were, how deeply red his chest was through the unbuttoned portion of his polo. His tinted sunscreen hid most of his glow, but you thought about how physically uncomfortable he must have felt at that moment, how alcohol doesn’t sit right in his system. Yet he patted your shoulder before tossing his arm around it to tell you just how much he was going to miss you. He reminded you again that he was going to be working at the city garden for their summer program so you could visit him or hit him up whenever you wanted. He was always looking out for you, but you could only hope that he never felt like you were ever taking him for granted.

Because you knew that if you could ever allow yourself to fully love him, you would do so without any restriction to give him the unconditional love that only someone like him could deserve.

“Seungkwan!” The balcony door swung open, sending a quick breeze toward the both of you. A cat-type with pale skin who was wearing a beanie pulled over his head of hair appeared in the doorway. He must have slammed the door open a little too forcibly as he quickly held onto the door to keep it from vibrating and proceeded to bring his opened can of cola to his lips to lick away the contents that spilled onto his hand. “Shots” was all he said before he headed back inside without bothering to close the door.

“I- I think I’ll go inside. I hear them yelling for me, and I don’t want my name to be perceived by the neighbors.” Seungkwan awkwardly gestured to the ongoing party before looking at you again. “Can I get you anything?”

You shook your head to tell him you didn’t need anything. “I’ll head inside after a few minutes. You go ahead,” you told him.

A sheepish smile is what he left you with before he went inside. After you saw him gently close the door behind him, you looked at the piece of paper that you picked up and kept in your clammy hand. Uncrumpling it, you straightened it out against the flat side of the metal railing. You didn’t even need much light to see the words scribbled on the piece of paper: “Is there anybody in the room that you like?”

Yells emitted from inside the apartment, and you looked through the large glass windows to see Seungkwan taking a shot with those around him. He looked happy to be exactly where he wanted to be, but you couldn’t help but think he always looked a different kind of happy whenever he was around you. You read the stupid little strip once over and looked back at your group of friends, especially the one in the center. Smiling to yourself, you folded the little paper and tucked it in the space between the back of your phone and your silicon phone case before opening the balcony door to join the rest of them.

TWENTY-ONE. GLAZED CARROTS

You would think orange-glazed carrots would taste the same as orange carrot juice, but it doesn’t. It’s mostly the same ingredients used in different ways. It’s like how a lot of us live such similar lives, yet we all have different outcomes. A framework is only there to guide you along the way, but the results may vary even if you choose to follow or not follow the framework. I can tell you that I need a couple stalks of carrots, a quarter cup of orange juice, two tablespoons of sugar, and a bunch of other things, but it doesn’t mean that our end result would turn out the same. I may be making some glazed carrots while you end up with carrot cake. Don’t worry about sticking to what was originally written in stone. Focus on what you want to do.

SEUNGKWAN

Sweat drips down his back and colors the back of his shirt a darker hue. The fabric sticks uncomfortably to his skin as he runs around the farm while constantly checking his overheating phone to see if there are any new messages. Today, fear lingers over everybody like a dark cloud in the sky. You are missing, and nobody can find you.

Something unsettling has been going on for a few days. It’s Wednesday now, the last Wednesday of the month. It was only Saturday when Jeonghan confessed that he kissed you, Friday when Seungcheol moved out. As if there is a new shift in the pacing on the farm, nothing feels the same even though everything is the same. Seungkwan doesn’t know if he’s gaslighting himself into thinking there’s something wrong, but ever since the day Terry was finally able to pull Seungkwan to the side to talk to him, he knew that there was something wrong:

“What is so important that you have to talk to me in Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Jihoon’s room? It smells like sweat in here,” Seungkwan complained while standing in the middle of the bedroom and looking at the mess of gym equipment and strewn gym shorts on the floor.

Terry stuck their phone in Seungkwan’s face. On the screen was a picture of a chart that Seungkwan couldn’t quite comprehend was describing. There were a bunch of different colors, and he couldn’t quite make out the words with how Terry’s hand trembled. “Oranges. I was a couple of rounds away from winning that trivia game when a question about oranges popped up. I swore I was going to move on seeing how I’m literally working on an orange farm,” Terry said. “I was so pissed when it said that I lost because I answered incorrectly so I had to look it up. Look at this chart, Seungkwan. It’s summer. We don’t grow grapefruits or lemons here. Most oranges are in season from November to early spring.”

Seungkwan squinted his eyes and grabbed the phone from his friend’s hand to double-check the chart and the website where that page was pulled from. It looked legit, but it didn’t mean that it was impossible to have a late orange harvest. Then again, he couldn’t recall ever working on the farm in the summer because his entire family always went on a summer vacation together. He tried to recall what he learned in university. Was it during a botany course that he learned about fruits? Was it a pomology course? He couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t he remember?

“But that’s impossible,” he bluffed. Why did he bluff? “We’re still getting loads of oranges. They’re plump, juicy, and ripe. It’s always been this way.”

“Yeah, it’s always been this way during winter.” Terry took their phone back from Seungkwan to pull up something before flipping their screen for their friend to see. “Look at the date. December. The reason why we were wearing short-sleeves was because we got sweaty from working on the farm. I always liked building gingerbread houses at your place because your grandma always baked them with orange zest.”

“Then why are we here? Why are they in season?” 

“I don’t know, Kwannie…You think we would have all of the answers we’re looking for. But we don’t. But is it really that big of a difference if there’s no harm at all?”

What makes the current situation at the farm even worse is the fact that you stopped using your phone about a week ago. There was no use in carrying your phone around when people were always by your side, and you were also wary of the possibility of not being able to hold your phone anymore. That means that there is no way that somebody could possibly reach you without having to physically find you first.

He takes the back door through the café kitchen and rounds the corner up the stairs. The air-conditioned interior of the café pricks his skin, but he doesn’t care. There are only a few places left to check, and Seungkwan is determined to be the one to find you. His heart is racing. He doesn’t even stop to catch his breath as he double-checks every single upstairs room.

Surprise. Relief. A long laugh. Long last, he finally finds you asleep with Seungcheol’s daughter in the middle of the bedroom surrounded by the pile of the baby’s plushies. He drops to his knees, clearly out of breath, and lays flat with half his body on the baby’s soft rug and the other half on the cold hardwood floor.

Only your head is what is left of you. Seungkwan thinks it happened sometime today while you watched the baby for Seungcheol. But you’re still you. That’s all that matters.

A couple of footsteps bound up the stairs. Seungkwan calls out to them from his place on the floor. Alex and Morgan appear, both with sweat dripping down their foreheads and making strands of their hair stick to their face. All is well on the farm.

All is well.

“Are you hungry?” Seungkwan asks you as he props your head on his jacket to keep you from rolling off the picnic blanket he set up. A brief bike ride with your head in the bicycle basket brought the two of you to a nearby field a couple of minutes away from the farm.

“You know what? I haven’t been hungry for days, but you’re the only person who still takes time to ask me that question out of habit. Maybe I miss your cooking or your nagging about my food choices, but I think I’m feeling a bit hungry now that you mention it,” you answer him from the comfort of your spot on the blanket. “Thank you for bringing me out here. You must’ve been scared the whole bike ride because I could see you looking at me while you were biking just to make sure I didn’t bounce out of the basket. I’m not a bouncy ball, you know.”

Seungkwan sits by your side before deciding he would be much more comfortable lying down on the blanket. So he lies there with you, under the canopy of a giant tree and the vast blue sky that stretches into an unknkown world.

There are so many things in life that Seungkwan still doesn’t understand. He thinks about Jeonghan and how he quickly became Seungkwan’s biggest hypeman since that day. There’s also his conversation with Terry that lingers in his mind, how magical this summer seems. And he thinks about you, how lucky he is to spend even an hour with you, quiet, and in the area between the bustling city and the quiet countryside.

“Do you think,” Seungkwan begins, “that because you’re hungry that there’s a chance for your body to come back? Is that too much of a question? Is it bad that I’m asking that? I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you laugh. “I think I used to be so scared of anything that had to do with disappearing that I lived life just so that I could prevent it from happening. I think I’m much happier now…Definitely much happier now that I don’t physically have a body. I’m okay if it doesn’t come back.”

“Can I ask why?” At this point, Seungkwan’s head turns towards yours. He sees you. Peaceful. Still. The foil to the inner turmoil that defines his very character.

So you laugh. A big “Ahh haha” that precedes the feeling of embarrassment. And you roll off Seungkwan’s jacket so that you can face him face-to-face, a chance to be physically closer to him. And he’s here to catch you, to steady you by keeping you close to him with his hand supporting the back of your head, never really wanting to let you go.

“Because I know you’ll be by my side.” Big and toothy, you grin at him so widely that it causes his breath to hitch.

“What if I’m not by your side?” Seungkwan tries you even when his intimate proximity to you causes him to feel such an immense child-like glee.

“Then I’ll find a way to you,” you tell him. Soft is the words on your lips, soft is your gaze as he brings you closer to him so that your foreheads meet, and softer is how your very being lands on his heart. “I like you, Seungkwan.”

Soft is the way he kisses you, carefully and gently as if to wade in the waters. A tumultuous first meeting that predetermines the present, Seungkwan’s lips fold between yours as if connecting two puzzle pieces not necessarily missing from each other. They were always meant to be for each other.

So he pulls your head closer to his as he deepens the kiss, wetting lips and sparking a new season of life even if it is only briefly.

Magical summer and the oasis away from the city, how hard is it to tell someone you have loved them for so long that your heart yearns for them even when they are near you? Like the fibers that hold the oranges together, he wants to envelop you with his entire being even when he knows the two of you would eventually part. But what is life like when you live in fear of the future? The present time is brief — but how beautiful it is to live it fully, to not take the present for granted?

“I think,” you tell him when the two of you pull apart, “if I wake up tomorrow without my head, I would be fine with it knowing what it is like now to live without regrets. But would you miss me if I disappeared?”

Seungkwan flipped over to lay on his back and brought your head to his chest so that you could hear his voice rumble in his chest against the backdrop of his beating heart. “I miss you even when you’re near me.”

“Stop being cheesy. Be honest,” you pout.

“I wouldn’t miss you.”

“Why is that?” You asked him.

Seungkwan stops to think for a second and brings an arm up to support the back of his head. “I dunno. I think it’s because I would delude myself to the point where I would believe that you are right beside me. But I would miss you, and I would do everything to not forget you. And I wouldn’t ever blame myself or regret the fact that I have loved you for the longest time. In fact, I’m thinking about that time in college when I got mad because you said that you didn’t love me.”

“Well you asked me why you weren’t gone after being friends with me for so long. Me telling you that I didn’t love you was logical, wasn’t it?” you complain.

“I’m still hurt. Wounded, actually,” Seungkwan pouts while holding your head above his face. He kisses the tip of your nose before putting you back against his chest, hugging you tightly even if it suffocates you.

“Stop handling me like I’m your doll.” He watches as you roll your eyes at him while speaking even though it’s evidently clear to him that you’re just being shy. Even then, he has to admit that his boldness also surprises him. “I don’t think there’s anything logical about anything, really. So I think I can say that I’ve also been loving you for the longest time. So to be able to say it out loud without being afraid, even if I can only do it briefly, I would still be happy about the fact that I could give and receive love from you, Seungkwan. So hold me tight, briefly, even if it’s only for a moment.”

TWENTY-TWO. CHOCOLATE ORANGES

Giant ball of molded chocolate wrapped in orange tinfoil, you thwack it against a flat surface until you feel the chocolate break into their individual slices. What is underneath is a classic milk chocolate treat, several slices too many. Take a slice and bring it to your mouth. Do you let it dissolve into a pool of chocolate and orange or do you break it apart between your teeth? Do you bring your fingers to your lips to lick away the melted bits or do you wipe it away? Is it wrong to do what you want to do? I like licking my fingers even if the person next to me thinks it’s a disgusting habit. I don’t care. I’m just eating chocolate and minding my business. Wrap it in the tinfoil if you’re not finished. There are a lot of pieces, so you don’t have to try to finish it in one sitting. I like trying to keep it in the shape of an orange, but that’s just me. I won’t judge you based on something as small as eating sweets. Several years down the line, you might still remember how anxious you felt or how embarrassed you felt in this moment. You would think about what other people might have thought about you. But in reality, I would be thinking about this moment. About how fun it was to whack the chocolate ball on different surfaces and watch the slices reveal themselves as we unwrapped the foil together.

SEUNGKWAN

Rows upon rows of trees barren and without fruit, the sight of it all was like a miracle at the end of June. The fact that it actually happened shocked Seungkwan so much that he didn’t even react when Seokmin and Soonyoung swiped his wallet from his trekking backpack to pay for the overpriced convenience store sliced oranges and whole oranges for the group during their hiking trip as a joke.

Trail mixes in plastic baggies, filled water bottles in hand, and several forms of oranges thrown in a plastic bag, the group follows each other along the hiking trail they were supposed to visit several weeks ago. Sunlight bright and cool winds passing by, today could not be a more perfect day for a friendly group hiking excursion in the mountains overlooking the city. And Seungkwan keeps your head wrapped tightly in his arms in fear that Jihoon would somehow find a way to use you as some form of weight training. Again.

Not once does he complain about not being able to use his hands to hold onto rails for support while climbing steep staircases or while crossing over stepping stones in the several rivers. He walks in the middle of the group, holding you up to let you inspect nature from different heights, happily chatting with his friends who surround him.

He tells you about oranges: the fruit, the ones on the farm, the way you like them prepared in desserts, the smell, the taste, the history he has with them. And he fills the gaps in your memory one description at a time. He has done it so many times that he knows what questions you are going to ask him. He knows how to describe things in ways even authors struggle to do. He’s patient, careful with his words, and welcoming of different voices in his conversations.

Tennis shoes crunching against the dirt paths, every time Seungkwan hands you over to another friend, he would always somehow find you back in his arms. Beyond the lush and vibrant green leaves is the city Seungkwan so badly wishes to live. But he sees his group of friends — Jihoon and Jeonghan, who try to push Soonyoung into the bushes whenever they can; Seokmin, who blushes while he intertwines his fingers with Noah’s; Morgan, who drags Alex by the straps of his backpack; Minghao, who is about to use your head as a phone stand for pictures before getting yelled at by Terry and Yunling; and Seungcheol, who is happier than ever — and it makes him think about just how much his life has been touched by magic to be able to be so unlonely in such a big world.

There is a scenic spot that overlooks the city. The group decides to stop there to rest before turning back so they can have dinner in the city before going back to the farm to pack up to leave.

Seungkwan sits on one of the stone benches with you in his lap. Yunling sits to the side of him and stretches her legs, bending over to massage her calves. Noah, whose sprain is already gone, comes over to hand her a few of the whole oranges they bought at the store before leaving to pass out the rest.

“God,” Yunling complains while handing Seungkwan an orange, “the peel for these are so thick that I kind of regret clipping my nails last night. And I bet these aren’t as tasty as the ones on your farm.”

“Not my farm,” Seungkwan sighs.

“I know.” Yunling pats him reassuringly on the back. “But some of my most precious memories happened on that farm. And you’re so entirely precious to all of us. How can we not associate you with the farm?”

Seungkwan bites his lip, not sure if he should come up with something witty to counter or continue the conversation with Yunling. In fact, he doesn’t know what he should be doing. He’s a college graduate, but he struggles with finding the balance between filial piety and his dreams. He struggles with trying too hard to try to fit into a world that makes it seem like everybody has their lives in order. He wonders about where everybody would go after they leave the farm. Would they remember this month how he remembers it, or would they return to their daily lives as if nothing has happened? He doubts they would treat their time on the farm as nothing, but he is human. He worries about things that he shouldn’t be worried about even if they cause him to become incredibly stressed. And he worries about you — how you would be able to go back to where you were in your life before you reconnected with him.

Yunling excuses herself to exchange her orange for another snack, leaving Seungkwan alone with you. Seungkwan looks at you with a slight frown on his face.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask him, your facial features soft yet filled with concern.

“Umm,” Seungkwan hums while looking to the side of him where two oranges sit. One for him and one for you. He tells you about how even if the convenience store orange would take him forever to peel, he would separate the tough skin from the delicate fruit as usual until the perfectly round ball of fruit is halved and then quartered and then whatever it takes to separate the fruit piece-by-piece. One after another, transferring fruit from his orange-stained fingertips into your awaiting mouth, he would watch you chew and smile as brightly as the sun in the summer sky. And he would smile too, fruitless in his hands yet fruitful in his love for you. 

Boo Seungkwan knows he’s so lucky even when he didn’t realize the presence of love buried in the rising heat that left his skin sticky to the touch during summer. Tiny people struggling to find their place in this big world, he sits on his spot on the bench wondering what he must have done in his past life to be able to sit there, in that moment, sharing fruit against the backdrop of the world with you. Moments with others, so pure and tender. To Seungkwan, to have met you in this life is a once in a lifetime. 

“Tell me, Seungkwan, what is the best way to peel an orange?” You ask him with such a cheerful smile on your face.

Suddenly, Seungkwan’s lap feels as if something heavy had been lifted off of him. His hand is still hovering where his hand had previously held your head steady. A sense of calmness instead of grief overwhelms him. Happiness even. Because he understands that even when we’ve fallen out of love with others or with ourselves, there is still someone other there who loves you and remembers you for who you were. So he takes one of the oranges to the side of him in his two hands and starts peeling.

He answers your question, wherever you may be, “It starts with the peel. Hold the orange in both hands and press your thumbs against the hollow bottom where there’s an open dip between the peel and the fleshy meat of the orange. Press into the peel with the tips of your fingernails, hard, penetrating the peel and creating a perfect opening to peel the fruit. Then, start peeling the bright and smooth outer shell away until you’re left with that orange and fleshy ball of juice. When you halve the fruit between your fingers, it sizzles and cracks crisply as you rip it apart — sometimes the juice escapes the membrane in a transparent drop of liquid, collecting on your finger, and rolling down your hand toward your arm. Sweet or sour, the rest comes after.”

TWENTY-THREE. THE ORANGE

Tough and protective skin, I’ll still hold you delicately in the palm of my hands. Being tough doesn’t mean you can never get hurt. Tell me about how vulnerable you are on the inside, and I’ll continue to sit beside you and cherish your worth.  

YN

Sometimes we fall in love before we realize we're in love.

TO MY BETA READERS AND HELPERS, to be constantly surrounded by your (INDI @playmetheclassics, ZETA @multi-kpop-fanfics, BEE @idyllic-ghost, PAULA @gyuwoncheol) support, I am incredibly lucky that it isn't only once in a lifetime. and much like how seungkwan feels, to be friends with you is once in a lifetime.

DEDICATED to those who are struggling to find love after loss — it may not be as far as you think.

Copyright © 2023 Wondernus. All rights reserved.

[xinganhao]

xinganhao 🌟 shared a moment with you: "seungkwan x reader"

you find yourself in a strangers to lovers enemies situation with seungkwan after you use his 'boyfriend material' photo for clout.

[talkingsaxy]

PHOTOS YOU'VE TAKEN OF YOUR BOYFRIEND SEUNGKWAN

please don't repost, requests open!

[hannieehaee]

can u write something about seungkwan having a s/o with the same personality/vibe as vernon? like one day he would just show up showing his new partner to introduce to the members and they would be like ? this is another version of vernon lol it would be so funny 😭😭

content: bf!seungkwan, established relationship, jeonghan being annoying, other members are present, fluff, etc.

wc: 617

a/n: lol i think seungkwan would totally date someone similar to vernon. their dynamic would eat

masterlist

"i didn't realize your type was vernon."

"what are you talking about?", seungkwan tilted his head in curiosity, furrowing his eyebrows.

jeonghan pointed over at you and a few of the other members, conversing in the distance, "i'm talking about that," he said as if it were the most obvious thing.

"i'm still not getting it."

"that's literally vernon. their style, their deadpan attitude, their voice. they even have the same elitist taste in music and movies. dude, you're dating vernon," he was needlessly exasperated as he listed off his evidence.

"w-wha- that's not true!", seungkwan instantly entered a defensive mode, "sure, vernon's cute, but they're nothing alike. you're crazy."

"just wait til vernon gets here and you'll see. world's gonna explode when they meet."

~

today was the first day seungkwan had ever introduced you to his members. most were currently in the practice room, so you had quickly been able to meet the present ones and engage in conversation. much to seungkwan's contentment, you fit in with the guys perfectly. from the moment you walked in, you managed to assimilate to them seamlessly, almost as if you were part of the group.

come to think of it, it was slightly unnerving how well you fit. jeonghan's words made more and more sense the more he watched you interact with his members. you were kind of like vernon, especially from afar. your dynamic with each of his members seemed pretty similar to that of vernon's, and even your mannerisms unknowingly replicated his. hell, your style was even pretty much the same!

seungkwan could've spent hours mindlessly analyzing the scene in front of him uninterrupted, but suddenly your twin turned up.

seungkwan was snapped out of his trance by a passing pat on his shoulder, causing him to jump slightly as he looked to his side to notice vernon passing by him with a quiet 'sup' before continuing to walk in the direction where you were conversing with the rest of the members.

quietly, seungkwan followed, with jeonghan trailing behind him with a chuckle.

"oh, hey," vernon nodded towards you in the nonchalant way he usually did, "you must be kwannie's partner," he offered you a light smile.

you responded with a similarly nonchalant greeting, shaking hands with vernon casually.

"hey. you're vernon, right? kwannie talks about you all the time," you gave him a closed-smile that almost mirrored his own.

"yah! that's not true!", whined kwan.

"dude he won't shut up about you," vernon joined in as he chuckled at his friend's dramatics.

suddenly you and vernon started a conversation completely aside from seungkwan. all the poor boy could do was stand there and watch, equal parts amused and surprised at seeing two people so similar.

jeonghan stood next to him as he watched, though he was more entertained than anything, occasionally chuckling at you and vernon jinxing each other by saying eerily similar things, or even reacting to one another in the exact same way.

"do you think the world will combust if they touch?", murmured seokmin who had just joined in on watching the spectacle.

seungkwan simply grumbled, continuing to attempt to join the conversation despite having no idea of what movie you and vernon were currently discussing.

by the end of it, you and vernon had exchanged contacts, with you providing seungkwan with a hug and a kiss before making your way out.

before seungkwan could say anything, vernon came up to him with yet another pat on his shoulder.

"hey, i like your partner. they're a keeper," he said without nothing the snickers leaving his other members, nor seungkwan's agape mouth at what he'd just witnessed.

hell. maybe he did have a type.

[seungcheorry]

it should bother seungkwan, but it doesn't. if anything, the tiny little bit of jealousy he's feeling gets drowned by the heartwarming sensation he gets when he sees his friend leaning into your touch.

seungkwan is vernon's personal face-toucher (he tells himself that's a real thing), everyone knows it. he loves the boy so much, considers him to be the brother he never truly had - all 12 of them, to be honest. but vernon is just his favorite, he never denied that.

so to see you, vernon's new partner, taking his role as you caress your boyfriend's cheek, letting him rest his head on your shoulder... it makes seungkwan scoff.

he wants to tease vernon, to make him blush in your presence - but he doesn't. he doesn't because his brother seems so comfortable right now, so at ease. he deserves that.

maybe you two can gang up on vernon. maybe you and seungkwan can finally fix vernon's bad habits, take care of him. he should befriend you, for sure.

vernon notices how seungkwan is politely trying not to stare, but he can see right through his brother. he smiles, raising his head from your shoulder.

"don't be jealous, seungkwan-ah. my ears are still yours", he teases.

you smile at seungkwan too, promising him that you won't touch vernon's ears. you don't mind sharing your boyfriend; if anything, seungkwan came around first so you respect his relationship with vernon and how much they love and care for each other.

then seungkwan smiles too, brushing it off, but it's clear in his eyes that he definitely thinks his brother is in good hands.

a/n: i have no idea where this came from but do with it what you will. ❤️🍒

[haologram]

unforgiven 🏹 b.sk (m)

🏹 synopsis: Seungkwan may have been represented by his considerably heartwarming traits, but he ruined his own fate with his vengeful and prideful behavior. Despite his flawed outlook, he can still see you in every lover — until it's you, again.

🏹 genre: greek god au ; second chance romance au ; angst, fluff, smut ; sort of former enemies/rivals to lovers.

🏹 pairing: athena!boo seungkwan x reincarnated arachne!fem!reader | side pairing: eros!mingyu x psyche!tzuyu (twice) | side characters: zeus!seungcheol ; hades!jeonghan ; hephaestus!wonwoo ; hermes!vernon ; eris!saerom (fromis_9)

🏹 word count: 40.8k (and what about it?)

🏹 rating: 18+. minors please do not interact.

🏹 warnings: human x god dynamics. swearing, alcohol. mentions of infidelity, mentions of envy-fueled death, lowkey murder. seungkwan is a perfectionist, reincarnated reader is good at everything. seungkwan can be very hot and cold, reader is way too flirty and toes the line entirely too much. smut warnings: virgin!seungkwan...surprise! multiple scenes (3 shitty ones!), oral (m. & f. rec), fingering (f. rec), unprotected sex (in this economy?!), so much heavy petting (and casual intimacy), frottage, some begging, a bit of dirty talk, lots of pet names (baby, angel, threadling, brat,etc.), dacryphilia and breeding kink if you squint (and i mean really, really squint), praise kink, biting, nipple play, riding, body worship (including the feet...mostly f.rec), a little bit of humiliation.

🏹 what to listen to: run away - tzuyu ; highway to hell - ac/dc ; back to me - the rose ; cinnamon girl - lana del rey ; she's my religion - pale waves ; i'm your baby tonight - whitney houston ; take me back to eden - sleep token ; faithfully - journey ; ruby - woozi ; cry for love - baekhyun ; spell - seventeen ; sailor song - gigi perez ; tattoos - reneé rapp.

🏹 author's note: thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write this, and this is for the greek god collab hosted by maren and aeris (link here!) for betas and support: @cheolism, @seokgyuu, and @diamonddaze01! thank you to everyone who forced me to get a fucking grip and just WRITE this. after two months of agonizing over it, writing and rewriting scenes (mostly the smut) and crying over boo seungkwan, it's finally here. seungkwan, my beloved little goblin...the brainrot has been far too real and i hope you get all the love in the world, and that this does you justice for the lack of seungkwan fics on this godforsaken app. xoxo. (star divider by @/enchanthings here on tumblr. link here.)

ONE.

It seemed you and Jeonghan were good friends by the way you speak to each other.

"Back so soon?" He calls, unsurprised. You huff, dusting your knees of rubble before looking up to him sitting cross-legged on his throne, flipping through a newspaper and tapping his pen on his chin. "Tsk, tsk."

"I'm just saying, Seungcheol shouldn't make me the best if he doesn't want me to show it off." You scoff, grimacing at the streaks of ash on your legs.

Jeonghan snorts, "Pride is a sin." Shrugging, you slump over the table before him, ignoring the pain in your diaphragm from the very obvious arrow sticking out of it. He gives you a quirk of his brow, folding the newspaper and folding his hands over his lap. He gives you a pointed look, making you groan. "Hannie, we've been through this so many times. Can't you just send me back?" "You know I can't." He smiles, and you throw a piece of gravel at him. Cerberus growls at you, and you stick your tongue out at the three-headed beast. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, pushing off his seat and tucking his hands into his pockets. "Say you're sorry." "But we know I'd be lying." You try and weasel your way out of begging the god for mercy, but he just gives you a wider grin in response.

"Oh, but you're so pretty when you beg." "You're a fucking freak." You mutter, and he just shrugs.

"You can beg or you can rot. I shouldn't even be giving you a choice, but I just like you so much, darling." He teases, flicking at your forehead. You frown, shoving his hand away before lowering to your knees.

"Come on! I promise I won't be a douche anymore." You exclaim, and Jeonghan just laughs.

"You said that the first time we had to do this. And tell me, Y/N, were you a douche again?" "Saerom deserved it!" You hiss, pointing a menacing finger at the god.

He smirks, a thoughtful look glazing his eyes. "Maybe I should just keep you here. You'd be a nice little pet, I think." He looks around, before you shudder.

"Hell no, you'd probably make me clean the floor with my tongue." You grimace, but sigh in defeat. You feel your cheeks burn in subtle humiliation as you adjust your knees on the gravelly terrain, touching your forehead to the hot pebbles and extending your arms out flat.

You hear Jeonghan clear his throat. "Recite the oath I wrote for you." Groaning inwardly, you feel his boot toe your rib. You scowl up at him, but the glowing maroon of his eyes tell you to get on with it. While this little odd game of Jeonghan's fruitless flirting was entertaining, his process definitely took a lot out of the two of you.

Often why Wonwoo reminds you that you should be grateful Jeonghan keeps letting you get away with it, fighting with Seungcheol constantly over you.

"I apologize." You start, and Jeonghan hums.

"What are you apologizing for?" "I apologize for allowing my pride to overcome my senses and cloud my judgment, allowing me to perform in ways I wouldn't otherwise. I see that my ego has grown further than I can control, and I ask that you allow me to prove that I can be better by returning me to the Overworld and allowing me to perform differently. If I am sent back due to my behavior, I will honor the wishes of those who sent me, and perform under your watchful eye." You're sure Jeonghan can practically hear your eyes rolling, but he sighs nonetheless. "Alright, you goblin. Get up, you're forgiven." You do so excitedly, wiping away any gravel stuck to your skin. Jeonghan smiles at you, a tilt to his head before he speaks in a serious tone, his fingers carefully wrapping around the fletching of the arrow. "This is the last time, Y/N."

You quirk a brow at him as he yanks the arrow out, rolling your eyes. You couldn't really feel anything when you were down here with him, much less did you care about the blood dripping down your front. "Right, same time next week?" He shakes his head, and you feel your brow furrow. "I talked to Seungcheol. We agreed that your presence in the Overworld, while entertaining, is fruitless. You're great at what you do, and the reason Seungcheol allows it is because he's hoping you'll eventually use it for the greater good. In your first life, you decided to challenge Seungkwan of all people. Seungkwan, Y/N." "Listen, just because he–"

"No, Y/N. This is the last time. If you're sent back, you're staying here for good." Jeonghan says sternly, and you think you see a glint of disappointment in his eyes. "You're too smart to keep doing this, stop letting your ego get in the way. You're a mortal, and you will always be a mortal." He turns away from you, and you hear the heavy gates of the Underworld open. Cerberus presents himself next to you, ready to guide you back out. You watch as Jeonghan carefully takes his seat again, and you purse your lips. Your hand rests on the open wound in your torso, feeling a bit of resentment fester in your lower belly.

"How are you sending me back this time?" "I think your original form would be good, no? I know you like the crazy hair colors but we should stick to the blueprint. Maybe then you'll behave." He says, shaking his newspaper off and opening it to the crossword. "Seungkwan regrets hurting you, you know." "Yeah, right." You scoff, feeling a pang in your chest as you recall your first time landing in the Underworld. Jeonghan had nearly sprung out of his seat, his long black hair pinned back by deep purple Gladiolus flowers. You were covered in spider's thread, wrapped tightly in the web and littered with leaves and twigs.

You'd challenged Seungkwan to a weaving contest. Your father had been highly praised amongst mortals for his talent in textiles, leading you to follow his legacy – your weaving had garnered the attention of anyone within a hundred-mile radius. This lead to your chest swelling with pride at the compliments you received, and the business you were able to bring your father. But, like Icarus, you'd flown a bit too close to the Sun. You started boasting that not even the wisest and craftiest of gods could rival your talent – even going as far as saying that Seungkwan, the god of wisdom and craft, would fail at creating something even worth his weight in silk.

Once word reached him in Olympus, he agreed to face you. He presented himself in Lydia, quickly guided to the home you shared with your father by looking for your tapestries. The owl on his shoulder blinked at you, a soft chirp from its beak as you carefully lugged out a loom to your backyard, unaware of his presence.

Seungkwan had watched you carefully from his spot behind a few bushes, something Jeonghan had later told you as he unwrapped you from the web you were bound by. You soaked up the sun in your long dress, before carefully stretching your fingers and threading the yarn through the loom. You seemed at ease with the loom, comfortably and confidently weaving the yarn through your nimble fingers.

What Jeonghan didn't tell you? Seungkwan – though turned off by your ego –  was enthralled by you, his attraction only heightened by your beauty. He would've never assumed that you would blatantly boast god-like talent without an ounce of respect. It seemed now that he was wrong, as he watched the way your pride practically seeped out of your fingers as they did what you knew best. He couldn't help but feel a bit of jealousy tangle in his stomach.

Seungkwan waited three nights to return to your home, taking shelter in the forest around your town. He returned peacefully, with a clear mind as he knocked on your door. He heard soft laughter and a gentle reassurance to your aging father as you gracefully opened the door. Your eyes were hidden behind your plump cheeks, full lips spread into a smile as you greeted him.

"Hello." He didn't respond nor introduced himself, only scanning you quietly. His eyes lingered on your lips, before noting your bandaged fingers folded neatly in front of your apricot-colored skirt.

"Can I help you, sir? Are you here on business?" You'd had no idea who was in your presence. Your warm smile almost made him forget who he was.

"You're Y/N, right?"

"That's me, sir. What can I help you with? Oh, we just got a shipment of beautiful violet yarn. It's dyed–"

"I'm Seungkwan. You said you could out-weave anyone."

Your expression changed at that, your smile turning into a smirk as you looked down at your bandaged fingers.

"A god is threatened by me?" Your voice had been teasing, but it only managed to irritate him.

"On the contrary, I quite enjoy your little act. What am I, if not a just and fair opponent?" With that, your gaze hardened slightly, and you extended your hand. He shook it carefully, watching as you walked to the center of your village, your fingers reaching for the cornucopia carefully held by a stone carving of Dionysus. You brought it to your lips, blowing what seemed to be a memorized tune.

Children flooded out of homes, followed by their parents and even some domesticated animals trailed around. Everyone smiled at your presence in the center of the village as you replaced the cornucopia.

"Everyone, I thank you for coming out. It seems we've got a visitor." You'd gestured towards Seungkwan, earning various gasps and even a scream from a young child in the crowd. Murmuring had quickly started, your bandaged hands calling for their attention as you waved them around.

"Seungkwan, the god of wisdom, craft and strategy…has come to accept my challenge." There hadn't been much speaking after that – the villagers quickly moved to watch as your father and a few other people moved looms out for you and Seungkwan. Your fingers quickly threaded the yarn through yours, watching as Seungkwan took his time unraveling it and threading it through. He noted your impatience through the flare of your nostrils.

The villagers watched in awe as the two of you wove like your lives depended on it – though, your art told different stories. The people had heard tales of Seungkwan's relentless discipline, only confirmed as he weaved those tales into each corner of his tapestry – and it caused a bit of anxiety to fester in their stomachs. His tapestry held symbols of peace, his infamous olive branch weaved into every space he could fit it.

Your tapestry told tales of Seungcheol – the god of the sky and his countless romantic escapades. You shunned him, intricately weaving each and every face of his lovers with yarn and creating a bigger battle to be faced by the god himself. You took the thrill and rush of the callout to continue onto the god of music, weaving Jihoon's lyre into the tapestry with tales of his manipulation of mortals with his song, as well as his scorn. You even went as far as involving who would one day become one of your closest friends – the god of the Underworld, Jeonghan.

You wove mercilessly, spilling truths that were unbeknownst to you. You expressed resentment against Jeonghan with your yarn, spewing hatred of his isolation and cruelty towards the damned. You implemented his manipulation of other gods and mortals, his way with words and the imposement of his feelings upon the damned.

You flew too close to the Sun.

Seungkwan watched as you fell frantic with pride, your fingers working almost overtime as you burned through yarn like there was no tomorrow. He was impressed, but his expression hardened at your disrespect of the gods. What could you, a mortal, ever understand about being a god? What could you, a simple village girl who sold tapestries for a living, understand about pressure and having to guide all those to wander to where they need to be? Who were you to judge a god for having multiple lovers – had you ever had one? Who were you to talk down on a god for being cold and isolated, when you were the very same – boasting about your pride, isolating yourself to perfect a craft that would lead you to your demise? Who were you, to complain about the blessed tune of a god, can you do anything other than weave your loud-mouthed opinions?

The damned. That's who you were, if not who you would become.

"That's enough." He'd stopped you just as you reached the end of your yarn, tearing through the tapestry you'd woven before him. Your mouth fell, watching as the god ripped your work to shreds. You, ever so human…said exactly what passed through your head.

"You gods could never imagine someone to be better than you. You, of all gods, could never accept someone that's more capable than you. Someone faster, someone wiser–"

Seungkwan decided your idea of friendly competition had taken a turn for the worse. He simply held the shreds of your work in his hands, and gave you a stern look. "Pride will get you killed, you know." And, it did. However, you didn't exactly know how, and neither did Jeonghan – just that you were wrapped in the web, with spider-like limbs protruding amongst the rubbish tangled in the spindle and your dark hair framing your tear stained face.

It seemed you couldn't get enough of the thrill, though.

You begged Jeonghan to set you free and send you back – but Jeonghan knew of your insults directed at him through your tapestry. He'd clicked his tongue at you, eyeing your clothing. Your skirt was made of only the finest thread, your fingers bleeding through the taped cloth on them. Your hair was tangled and your skin was dull, and you were truly coming to the realization that that was all you were. A human, a mortal. A plaything, if he so desired.

Nothing in comparison to Jeonghan. Nothing in comparison to Seungcheol, Jihoon and, as much as you hated to admit it, Seungkwan.

He'd made you apologize, and he kept you in the Underworld for three days and three nights. By then, Wonwoo had come to fetch you – called by Jeonghan and Seungcheol. You'd met Wonwoo several times, often trading your finest tapestries for anything he'd give you.

He'd made you and your father a special pair of scissors in exchange for a woven satchel and the cloak you'd made of hemp for him, dyed carefully with safflower petals. He wore them as he sauntered into the Underworld, bearing a gift for Jeonghan – a pomegranate, forged from bronze and riddled with garnets of all shapes and sizes. He offered Jeonghan it as a trade-off for you, and the god accepted – not saying anything about you being free to return to the Overworld. But not without a catch, and not without a punishment.

What was the catch? 

You looked nothing like yourself. You were…different. Different slopes in your nose, different curves of your ears and your legs shorter. Your fingers permanently bruised from your past life of weaving and hubris.

And it happened again, and again, and again – until Jeonghan expected you to crash into the graveled ground like a spider falling from the sky. He'd always give you the same look, the same sigh, and the same flirtatious routine. Though, the more he saw you, the more he grew fond of you. He enjoyed humiliating you, watching you squirm under his gaze – but by your eighth visit, he was tired of the act.

Wonwoo was the only one who knew how much you'd been thrust in and out of the Underworld, offering you his spare room. He and his wife had long separated, so you were simply filling the void of a companion for him.

The punishment for your shenanigans? You lost your father, and didn't get to say goodbye.

Wonwoo took care of him, from a distance, while you were routinely jostled through the experience of living and dying, and physical change. Your father was never allowed any information about you, simply being told that you'd disappeared. No one expected him to live on in peace without his only daughter –  and he fell ill with worry and stress – leaving the god of fire to beg Seungcheol to let you return to him for a final goodbye. Seungcheol refused, and your father died after three nights of hard rainfall. 

Your punishment was not the worst there was. You knew that – but it still aches deep within. You challenged anyone and anything, you didn't really care to find a cure for your pain. You fought against anyone who would allow you to – your latest quest proving that you could entice anyone into a fight far quicker than Saerom, the goddess of discord and strife.

She obviously didn't take too kindly to that, sending you back down to the Underworld with a golden arrow in your chest. Leading you to this very conversation with Jeonghan – potentially your last ever conversation with him where he doesn't banish you to the depths of hell with all those who have wronged him.

You sigh, glancing down at your fingers. The same bloodied cloth from all those years ago reappeared on your hands, your bruised fingertips softly throbbing. Your apricot skirt hung carefully on your hips, the bandage top now carefully wrapped around your torso. You felt the weight of your jewelry return to your ears and neck, the singular ruby ring sitting snugly around your right thumb.

"Are you sure? Won't they remember me?" You ask softly, and for once, Jeonghan can see inner turmoil. He shakes his head. "Everyone has either left or died. And, you're always welcome to move around as well. As far as I know…they need a weaver in Olympus."

You look up to see Jeonghan's maroon eyes glint with mischief, his smile wide as Cerberus grunts next to you. Seeing your lips curl gently, he waves his fingers at you. "I'll see you in a few decades, yeah?"

Nodding, you take a deep breath before turning your back on him, seeing the three-headed beast begin to lead the way out. "I'll see you, Jeonghan."

TWO.

Seungkwan was restless.

He promised his life to this. A life of being just, a life of being fair, a life of being a pure and sound god with nothing but the best of intentions for the mortals he helped guide. A life of losing himself, and his own desires, in order to be there for those who truly needed help, those who were truly in need of guidance and a path to follow.

He was there to answer questions and solve problems. He was there to make decisions for everyone who needed him to.

Who answers his questions? Who solves his problems, who makes decisions for him when he is too overwhelmed to think for himself? Nobody. If he doesn't do it, it simply won't get done.

He'd even attempted to take lovers in, trying to kiss and touch his way out of his own stress only to pull away before things got too heated. He couldn't, in good faith, allow himself to submit to just anyone. The mortals were just excited to be with a god, someone who could easily break them, someone who was deemed an esteemed part of their community – he didn't want them to see him like that, not during an intimate affair. He wasn't just a notch on a bedpost; he too, felt things. He'd see hurt flash through their eyes as he casted them away, shame radiating off his shoulders as they gathered their clothing and left his temple.

He felt like something was missing in all of them. He thought about it tirelessly – he felt attracted to them. He felt lust, he felt desire, but nothing got him to the point where he felt it could be quenched. His yearning for someone deeper, someone real, someone deserving of him ate away at his heart.

He sighed, hearing the echo of his shoes against the marble tile of the temple. He'd had a long day, only to be rang with yet another qualm – a mortal who searched for a job was granted access to his temple, and had been sent by Jeonghan and brought to the sacred home by Vernon, Wonwoo, and Cerberus.

Jeonghan said the mortal was good at almost anything and everything, and was looking for a mentor to take her under as she had no remaining family in all of Olympus. Vernon and Cerberus came into view as Seungkwan reached the open doors of the temple, hearing soft laughter rip through the air as Wonwoo appeared as well, but it wasn't from him.

He sees a bandaged hand resting lightly on Wonwoo's shoulder, a hint of an apricot skirt peeking from behind Vernon's leg.

"I've missed you, Wonwoo."

His ears perk at the tone of voice. It's soft, it's melodic, it's teasing. 

He clears his throat, the three-headed beast flaring its nostrils as Seungkwan takes the steps down to the gathered polycule. Wonwoo smiles at him, something mirrored by Vernon as he quickly spins around. Cerberus carefully lowers to the ground, watching Seungkwan's every move as he clears his throat again.

"Gentlemen?" He questions, and Wonwoo steps aside. He sees the long, dark hair he spun into cobwebs so long ago flowing freely down your back once more. The sliver of your honeyed skin peering through the white bandage top you wore, your taped fingers folded in front of the loose apricot skirt you wore that very day.

"Hello." You speak softly, and Seungkwan doesn't reply as your smile reaches your eyes, the same way it had the first day he'd met you. He looks at Vernon, who shrugs. Wonwoo does the same, before holding up his satchel.

"She won't take up much space, and she can help you with anything you need here. Jeonghan said to talk to Seungcheol if you have any issues." Wonwoo seems to speak as though his word is law, making Seungkwan's jaw tick. They knew how meticulous he was – a place for everything and everything in its place. His home was holy to him, his gardens crafted so not even a single blade of grass was out of place. His windows washed morning and night to let the light in perfectly, his meals like clockwork.

He wasn't sure if there was a place for you here.

Seungkwan can't bring himself to say anything to Wonwoo and Vernon, who seem dead set on leaving you here. You carefully open Wonwoo's satchel, holding out a hemp sash. It was dyed a soft olive green, likely from nettle or dandelion leaves.

"For you. They said you like green." He sucks his teeth, taking it gently from your hands and draping it over his forearm. Wonwoo smiles to himself as you move to stand by Seungkwan's side, who shuffles a bit away from you. Seungkwan was never one to shy away from a mortal, he took his job seriously.

"Well." Vernon gives a smirk, one full of mirth as he pats the scaly beast next to him. "It's best we get going, Wonwoo here has got quite the journey back to Lydia." "So you're just going to leave her here?" Seungkwan asks, a bit of a bite in his tone making Wonwoo grin.

"You'll find a job for her, right? She's good at everything, she can even make you tapestries to help decorate. Your place feels like a prison sometimes." Seungkwan scowls at this, the older man reaching to pinch his cheek gently. "We'll see you around, Boo. We'll come check on you every few weeks, try not to rip each other's heads off." The men turn on their heels and saunter off without so much as a second glance or word to either of you. He can feel you practically vibrating as they walk into the distance. He doesn't know if it's nerves or excitement, but he can't bring himself to ask as he notices your body is covered in quite a thick layer of grime. There is black streaks of dirt all over your shoulder, your arms covered in green, likely from dying the sash.

"You need a bath." He states, missing your scowl as he turns, marching back into the temple quickly. You pull your skirt up to scamper after him, your worn leather sandals clicking against the tile. He silently leads the way to a large bathroom, a clawfoot tub in the center surrounded by beautiful herbal soaps and sprigs of lavender and rosemary.

"Have you any other clothing?" He asks, carefully turning the knobs of the tub and receiving a steady flow of water.

He rings his ringed fingers under it as you shake your head. "No, just…this."

You gesture at your dirty clothing, making him click his tongue as he nods. "I'll find something. Feel free to use anything here, and I'll be back."

He can feel your eyes trail after him as he leaves, before hearing the soft thwip of your clothing being pulled off your body, the jingle of your jewelry being pooled together. He hears the splash of the water as you lower yourself into the tub, and a hum as you test the temperature.

He scurries off to his bedroom, throwing open a few of his drawers to see if he has anything he could offer you. You looked exactly the same as before, but he'd sworn that you'd died. He'd wrapped the cobweb so tight, he was sure you would have kicked the bucket at some point.

But, here you were. As if you didn't remember, as if nothing had happened between the two of you that would make you want to hate him. He had to tell you, right? It was the just thing to do, the honest and right thing to do.

He grimaces to himself, yanking a white chiton out of his drawer. It'd been a gift from a former lover, but it'd be your pajamas for the night. He shuffles around for towels, taking the softer ones out of his closet before trekking back out and hearing you hum a soft melody. One that reminded him of Jihoon, his tunes of love and desperate isolation.

When you come back into view, your entire body is submerged below the soapy water. The bandages on your fingers soaked through as your hand dangles over the edge of the tub, your thumb ring a sparkling contrast. Your legs are crossed, one foot in the air as you examine your toes. It was like it was your first time on Earth.

"Here." He drapes the items over the towel rack a few inches away, and you look up at him. Your face was stained as well, a few odd lines likely from streaming tears paving their way through the dirt on your cheeks. You give him a smile.

"Can I ask you for a favor?" You ask gently, and he sighs, folding his hands in front of him before nodding. You sit up, your bare chest peeking over the soap as he looks away. "I can't…my fingers are really messed up."

You hold your hand up, the bandages threatening to peel off before you close your fingers again. "Can you wash my hair?" This is innocent. Even seeing you in the nude, meant nothing to him. He'd done this for dozens of mortals who had worked under him. He knew he was a tough guy to please, his perfectionism often shown in the pricking of his pupils' fingers and their sore joints. He nods.

"As you wish." He moves around as you adjust, dragging a stool from behind the door to the tub and lingering at a shelf in the wall. "Rosemary? Lavender? Thyme?" He gestures at the jars of infused shampoos, and you shrug your shoulders.

"Whatever you'd like is fine." He plucks the rosemary shampoo off the shelf, opting to roll his sleeves up and sliding his rings off before he sits at the stool. He shoves the rings in his pocket, before running his fingers under the running water once more to ensure its warmth.

"Lean back for me." He murmurs, and you tilt your head back, letting the water stream over your hairline and brows. Your eyes flicker open, watching as his hands gently card through the tangled locks, carefully undoing the knots you'd acquired.

It's not long before his dull nails are working the shampoo into your scalp softly, making your shoulders sag in relief. He assumes you'd been gone for a very long time, probably under the watchful eye of Jeonghan and whatever other damned souls were down there. He scratches behind your ears softly, making you shiver and close your eyes as you lean into the touch.

"How long has it been since you've had a bath?" He asks aloud, and you sigh quietly. 

"In this form, or the others?" 

"The others?" He echoes, and you peel an eye open to look at him.

"I remember you, you know." He tries not to let relief show in his face as he nods with an unimpressed look. "I figured as much, otherwise Jeonghan wouldn't have sent you here. Your second chance is my punishment." "My ninth chance." You murmur as he tilts your head back into the running water, the shampoo running off the sides. You close your eyes again, and Seungkwan says nothing as he rakes his fingers through your hair. He gently rubs the dirt off your cheeks before you move away.

"I don't expect you to like me, nor do I expect you to do me any favors beyond this one. I'm only here because Jeonghan said he wouldn't send me back again, so I have to be on my best behavior." You mutter, sitting up before tugging your bandages off with your teeth and flinging the wet cloth onto the floor by your dirty clothes. Seungkwan grimaces, before watching as you grab a bar of soap and run it under the water.

"I can take care of myself. You can go now." You say, the gentle tone gone as you lather the soap off the bar and gently work it into your face. Your fingers are so bruised he worries they hurt. 

He stands, replacing the stool to its rightful spot and moving towards the door, stopping at the threshold. "Your room is down the corridor to the left. You are the only other person in the temple, so you will have to work with me if you want to stay here. I hope that's understood." He doesn't give you a chance to reply before closing the bathroom door behind him, almost slamming it as he walks away. He walks to his kitchen, dragging a tub of beeswax his previous pupil had collected carefully over the course of her time in his temple. She tended to his gardens, before sending her on her way back to her village with a new skill to use for profit.

He can hear you clamber about, but chooses to focus on his task. He's carefully melting the beeswax in a pot, when he hears you walking around the temple. He doesn't move except to gather his ingredients – peppermint oil, calendula infused oil, olive oil. It would help your fingers, and hopefully you wouldn't be so stuck in your ways this time that you end up hurting yourself trying to be the best.

Something he has yet to learn how to stop doing – but if he admits to imperfection, if he admits to flaws, is he a god? You're pacing around the temple and taking everything in, he can practically hear you murmuring to yourself as you wander into the kitchen, nearly bumping into the dining table.You catch yourself, and he continues to watch you out of the corner of his eye as you pick through the fruit in the bowl. You pull an apple, rubbing the skin against his chiton. 

Your teeth sink into the flesh of the fruit, the crunch satisfying to his ears as you inch closer to him. You're peering over his shoulder, when he finally speaks.

"Do you always just make yourself at home?" He asks, and you're so close to him he can practically feel the shrug of your shoulders. 

"This is home, isn't it? I'm here for a while, maybe the rest of my measly, mortal life. Might as well be a nuisance to you, oh wise one"

You're teasing him, provoking him. He knows he shouldn't buy into it, that's what landed you back here in the first place. "Watch it." He snaps, and you giggle behind him.

"Whatever you say." Your words are drawn out as you prance out of the room, a hum from your throat as you do so. He grumbles to himself as he measures out everything perfectly, heating everything just right so it will help your fingers in the best way possible. He should be freaking out. He should be storming the Underworld right now, demanding Jeonghan take you back to whatever hell you were in before he sent you to him. He should be angry that you're in his presence, your ego so hard to swallow even when now you've only been sent back as a way for Seungkwan to right his wrongs. Or so he thinks.

However, just as you are vain and you are prideful, Seungkwan is selfish and Seungkwan is intolerant of your disrespect. It could very well be a challenge not only sent by Jeonghan but by Seungcheol, to prove his worthiness and show that he can be perfect, too.

Not that any of the gods were perfect by any means.

He sighs, carefully pouring the mixture into a tin, where it'll slightly solidify and you'll be able to use it as a salve for your tired hands. And eventually, your tired feet, because you certainly won't have any downtime.

He carefully walks back towards his bedroom, the hot tin in his hand as he does so. Your head of curls is seen ducking into the room, and he tries to hold back his annoyance as he turns into the room as well.

"What are you doing here?" He announces as you throw open his shutters, the moonlight illuminating the room and your frame as you stare out the window at the rolling hills of his backyard. You don't look back at him as you take another bite of your apple, crossing your arms and leaning on the windowsill before responding around your food.

"I told you, this is my home now, too." He doesn't respond, choosing to slide the hot tin onto his vanity before carefully slipping his shirt over his head, the worn wool tossed into a woven basket by the door. You're not looking at him, but he's hoping you'll get the hint and get out as he disappears into his closet. He removes the rest of his attire, grabbing his robe and tying it around himself before exiting the closet to see you now draped across his reading chair, a lit candle in your hand as you skimmed his open books.

"You have books in your room," he calls, and your eyes twinkle with something he can't place as you blow out the candle. He watches as you replace it gently, and push off his chair. 

"Goodnight, wisest one." You blow him a kiss as you skip out of his room, and he feels like he might be stuck in a constant state of déjà vu. He shakes his head, grabbing a towel before heading towards the bathroom. He sees your clothes still gathered on the floor, struggling not to roll his eyes as he drapes his towel over the rack, carefully picking your clothes up and placing them inside a wooden basket by the door. He turns the water on, and is about to take his robe off when he hears you knock at the door.

"Kwannie? Can I call you Kwannie?" You call, and he tongues his cheek in annoyance as he flings open the door. 

"Yes, Y/N? How can I help you?" You shrug, "I don't like my bed. Can I have yours?" He scoffs out a laugh, before seeing you blink up at him owlishly. "You're not being serious." "But I am, Kwannie! I'm a guest, you wouldn't let your guest sleep on that horrible bed, would you? You're a gracious host." Your hands are holding onto the fabric of his robe, your thumbs circling it before his hands are on your wrists, pulling them off him.

"You take what you're given, threadling." His voice is stern, and he's about to close the door when he sees the pout on your lips, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before sighs. "Fine, take the bed." "Really!?" You squeal, making him shut the door in your face. 

"Don't. Just go to bed."

Seungkwan couldn't stop thinking after that. He quietly slipped into his bedroom after his bath, seeing you sound asleep with his pillow covered in your mess of curls. Your lips were slightly parted, slivers of your teeth illuminated by the moonlight. He took the moment to look closely at your face, a few surface-level scars scattered across your skin. Your eyes were thickly lashed and you had deep bags from lack of rest.

You left the other side of the bed with the covers pulled back, almost inviting him to slide in with you. He eyes it, taking the pillow and tucking it under his arm.

He sat at his desk, watching your even breathing as he slid the pillow against his lower back. He wonders who else you challenged and why they sent you back. He wonders why they gave you so many chances as a mere mortal, and why Seungcheol didn't strike you down the moment your insults gained wind.

"Stop staring at me."

Your voice rang through the room, and Seungkwan just tilted his head.

"No." Your head moves up slightly, and you sigh. "Whatever." You roll onto your side, facing away from the open window. The moonlight now shines on your back and legs, and he notes the way your feet peek out from under the wool blanket. Your toenails are painted in a chipped carmine, and he simply sighs to himself as he crosses his arms over his chest and attempts to get comfortable in the wooden rocking chair.

"You'd be much more comfortable on the bed." You call, and he hums in response. His head rests against the wooden rest, crossing his legs at the ankles as you sit up. "Seungkwan." "Yes, threadling?" His eyes are closed, hands folded in his lap as he responds. He shows no interest in what you could possibly have to say. You're just another chore to him, another mission he must complete to prove himself. He'd be a fool to fall for your charms, or your deceptions. You could flirt all you want, you could challenge him all you want – but he won't give in to you.

Not again.

THREE.

The night had continued without another word from either of you, and you were not in bed when he woke up. He heard the soft running of water and assumed you decided to bathe once more. Seungkwan's back was incredibly sore, but he rose with the sun anyway. He stretched on his patio, before retreating into the kitchen to make breakfast – spotting you tinkering in there already.

You're not wearing what he gave you yesterday – instead, a red, glittering sash from his collection bunched and pinned, tied around your waist like a skirt. It dropped to your mid-thigh, and your chest was covered by a pinned piece of white linen you'd likely found in his closet, something he didn't have use for.

You really knew how to make something out of almost nothing.

You stood in front of his stone oven, holding the wooden peel as a staff and tapping your bare foot against the marble floor. He peers over your shoulder to see a dimpled focaccia with halved cherry tomatoes and coarse salt above the flame. Your eyes are illuminated by the fire baking it, and your shoulders jump when you hear him speak behind you.

"What are you doing?" "Making bread. We should really go to the market, you've run out of fish." You respond, gesturing to the table. He looks over his shoulder, seeing an array of fresh fruit and goat cheese neatly placed on plates from his cupboard. There is a pile of juiced oranges and a few carrot peels in his compost bin, and the juice sits in a pitcher next to the jar of honey.

"I left a salve for you on the vanity. Did you put it on?" He asks, not moving from behind you. You nod, holding up your free hand. Your fingers are freshly bandaged, this time in strips of linen. The salve was carefully spread around your fingertips.

"Why are you being so nice to me? You killed me off eight years ago, what makes now any different?" Your question catches him a bit off guard. His head whips up to look at you, and sees you already staring down at home. The flame in your eyes is just as intense, if not more, than the one in the oven. It's like you resent him.

"I'm not a human. I don't have to admit or explain anything to you, we're not the same." He speaks with confidence, and it only makes your brow furrow deeper.

"You don't have to be human to admit your wrongdoings. You killed me off because I made you look bad, Seungkwan." He scoffs, adjusting his pajama shirt. "I sent you to the Underworld because your ego was absolutely suffocating. I don't understand how anyone within a ten-foot radius wasn't crushed by the sheer weight of your hubris."

"Isn't this my land, too? Isn't this where I can express my feelings and my rights, where I can–" His hand comes up, cutting you off just like he did the day you left.

"You are a human. You can train to be the best, you can try to do whatever you desire in this world. You will never be perfect, therefore you cannot compare where you don't compete." He can tell the words hurt you as your eyes glaze over slowly, but you refuse to back down.

"I may not be perfect, but you're also far from it." You grumble, turning away from him to take the bread out of the oven. "Being a god means nothing. You're just like me, all you've got is something fancy to show for it. Something that proves that there are favorites in this world. Without your so-called wisdom, without your so-called perfect presentation, you'd be just like me." He doesn't speak, feeling a bit of fury pool in his stomach.

You carefully pull the bread out of the oven, sliding it onto the cooling rack you left on the counter. You adjust the wooden peel against the wall, before turning to him with one last slip of your tongue.

"You may be a god. You may be good at what you represent, you may be rich in wealth and you may be handsome. Your fellow gods boast your compassion, but you've shown me none. You are nothing but a frail shadow of a man playing pretend, nothing but someone who lacks what life is truly rich with – love." His eyes scan your face.

"What would you even know about love?" He doesn't like the way you smile at him.

"You'd like to know, wouldn't you? You'd want me to tell you all my secrets, to show you what it's like to be normal and not have to live up to anyone's unrealistic expectations." You're stepping closer, a finger to his chest as you speak. "You'd love to know what the touch of a woman feels like, what it's like to be coddled and kissed and touched until you can't think anymore." You're so close that your lips are brushing the shell of his ear now, and he can feel your lips curl into a smirk as you whisper.

"You want to be forgiven for your sins, but you know if you ever so much as think of telling anyone how much of a screw-up you really are, you'll be seen as less than. Less than your peers, and a disappointment to your elders. You want to be loved, but to be loved is to be known. I don't think you're ready for that."

He feels you brush past him, and his face heats in embarrassment as he hears your feet patter away, and the door of your bedroom shut tightly.

He ignores the tear that slips down his face, letting it drip onto the floor as he scans the array of breakfast once more. He's not hungry. He hates that you've chipped a bit away at his façade, he hates that you're able to read him so easily. It only means he has to try harder to dominate this relationship.

The rest of the day was filled with nothing but silence and tension. 

After your encounter in the kitchen early that morning, it seemed you had no interest in interacting with Seungkwan. He didn't really care, taking the time instead to make the trip to the market. He'd heard you rustling about in your bedroom before he made his leave, and assumed you were trying to make yourself comfortable.

It'd begun raining after he left, making him agitated as he watched vendors put up their tarps in the market. He carefully roamed through the market, picking the best produce amongst the selections. He even stopped by a textile tent and picked out a few fabrics for you, assuming you'd need more clothing. He packed everything and made his way home, parasol over his shoulder as he arrived.

Only to enter the temple and see the oven aflame again, but you are nowhere near it. A loud roll of thunder sounds overhead, and he hears a soft sigh from the gardens. He leaves the items he got on the table, quickly making his way towards the garden doors to see you standing with your hands clasped behind your back, your clothing clinging to your skin as you let the rain drench you.

"You're going to get sick." He calls from the threshold, and you only peer over your shoulder at him. Shrugging, you turn back to look over the flower field he'd carefully curated, and he sees a few sprigs of lavender tucked over your ear. Your hair has been long soaked, sticking to your shoulders and back as he groans inwardly.

"Y/N, come inside."

"No." You turn to face him. "I like the way it feels." "The rain? It's cold and you're wet, your clothes are ruined." He says pointedly, and you shrug once more, looking up at the sky. 

"We were born naked, we will die naked. Who cares?" "You're being existential and it's freaking me out, come inside." He rolls his eyes, and you tilt your head at him. 

"Why don't you come out here? Have you ever danced in the rain?" "I don't dance, Y/N. Now, come on. I won't ask again." You seemingly oblige, slowly strolling back to the limestone and stopping a few feet in front of him. He steps to the side, assuming you'll walk inside. You shake your hand, holding your hand out. "Dance with me." He rubs his temples, a grimace on his face. "Didn't you say Jeonghan told you to be on your best behavior? This doesn't seem like very good behavior." "He said best behavior when you're bossing me around, not when I get to simply exist. It won't kill you to indulge me, aren't you supposed to be warm and welcoming?" You argue, your hand not dropping from where you've extended it.

"I'm supposed to guide you so you don't do something stupid, and you're here so I can ensure that your life can bring you something of fruit. Now, come inside, before I bring you in here myself." He's stern, but he can't help and notice the way your eyes flash as you take a step back.

"You're going to have to catch me, then." You're shrugging dramatically, and Seungkwan groans. 

"Y/N, don't do this." "I like it when you beg." You smirk, taking yet another step back. His jaw ticks and he sees you sprint off the limestone patio and into the flower field. He crosses his arms, letting you get as far as the marigolds before he sighs inwardly, stepping out into the rain and walking towards the field. "Gotta be faster than that, Seungkwan!"

He scowls at your teasing, feeling his stomach churn as he breaks into a jog, watching as you twirl into the zinnias. He doesn't like this, feeling like he's following your lead because you refuse to respect him as a god. He doesn't like the fact that he feels his shoulders less tense at the idea of it, and his mind has only the goal of dragging you inside before you get sick.

"Missed me, missed me!" You call, even making a show of doing a curtsy into the tulips. He's close enough to grab you, but waits. Your back is turned to him when he grabs your arm, pulling you to him. 

"Y/N, this is not a game." He mutters as you let him tug you close, a smile on your lips proving your enjoyment at making him work to catch you.  

"Yet, you played along." You reply coyly, before he rolls his eyes, and you nearly scream as he single-handedly throws you over his shoulder. 

"No more of this. You're going to have a bath and we're going to eat and go to bed. The real work starts tomorrow." You're silent as he walks the two of you back to the temple, feeling your cheeks hot at the placement of his ringed fingers around your thigh. You don't really like Seungkwan, because, well – you resent him for having sent you to the Underworld over friendly competition. But, you're still just a woman, and the feeling of his warm fingers gripping your skin was proof of carnal desire's existence within you.

He sets you down in the threshold, his nimble fingers making quick work of the pins in the makeshift skirt you'd wrapped yourself in earlier that morning. This seemed normal for him, gathering the pins between plump lips as he nearly ripped your top off. You weren't complaining, his knuckles brushing against your skin gently. "Go. Bathe. You'll get sick."

"Seems like an excuse just to see me naked, Seungkwan." "Go." His voice holds a bite before he gathers your hair in his hand, carefully wringing the water out just outside the doorway. A soft push of his damp hand on your shoulder makes you move forward, and you make your way to the hallway, peering over your shoulder to see the god grimacing as he peels his own top off, a low whistle from your lips before you disappear down the hall.

You can hear him groan as he walks around, likely cold from the rain. "Would you like to join me?" You call, and hear a scoff from the kitchen.

He doesn't respond, and you hear the trickle of water into the sink. You assume he's wringing your clothes out, and you shrug as you draw yourself a bath once more. You scour his shampoo jars carefully, this time grabbing the citrus one. The bathroom quickly fills with soft basil and grapefruit notes, and you sink yourself into the warmth of the water.

You don't know how much time has passed when you hear a soft knock at the bathroom door, and Seungkwan clearing his throat before asking if he can come in. You hum in approval, choosing to keep your eyes closed as he opens the door. You wear the soft brush of his robe against the door, and you ignore the disappointment settling in your stomach.

"I got you these at the market. I figured we'd be able to make something of them." He holds up a few pieces of linen, different patterns catching your eyes as you peel them open. You nod excitedly, leaning over the edge of the tub to look closer. "I have pins and sewing needles somewhere around here, we can get some measurements done when you're out." He says pointedly, giving you a quick once over before he holds up a towel and places it on the rack. "Be quick." "Don't you also need a bath?" You ask, leaning your cheek on your palm. 

He gives you a quizzical look. "Did you expect me to take it with you?" "Would that kill you? To be enticed by a human?" Your smile is sly, but he rolls his eyes. 

"Mortals and gods are meant to interact, Y/N." "Have you ever slept with one?" 

His brow furrows, before he scoffs. "Do you always ask such personal questions?" Shrugging, you lean back into the water. "Just wanted to know. I know some humans like sleeping with gods, it makes them feel important or whatever." You roll your eyes, and he just waves you off.

"I've no need to sleep with a mortal. There's a certain insatiability to humans that I simply don't have time for." He states, and you look up at him with squinted eyes. 

"You mean…?"

Sighing, he leans against the doorway of the bathroom. "Once you start messing around with humans like that, you can't stop. It's like…you feed off their mortality. You become addicted to how they feel, how they taste, how…vulnerable, they are." He looks a little disgusted as he says this, but shakes it off as he looks at the linens in his hands. "It would make me an unjust god to involve myself that way. My job isn't to bring you…sexual gratification." "Is that why Seungcheol is the way he is?" You ask, and you don't miss the way Seungkwan's eyes trail the way your legs peek over the soapy water. Shifting, his eyes snap back to yours, "No, Seungcheol is the way he is because he likes attention. He needs it to function." Rolling your eyes, "He's the god of the sky, everyone practically worships him." "Everyone but you, it seems." He says, and you smile at him. 

"Am I supposed to?" "My job is to guide you, but I won't tell you what you should or shouldn't do, you're a mortal. You've got free will." He clicks his tongue, before his fingers toy with the doorknob. "I'll be in my bedroom." "Get pretty while you wait for me." You wink, and he scowls. 

"You're such a brat." The door closes before you can say anything, only a laugh from your chest as you unplug the drain, watching the water slide down. You rinse off with the running water, carefully squeezing your hair of excess as you step out of the tub, gingerly wrapping the towel around yourself and tucking the corner in. 

Opening the door, you carefully walk down the hall to Seungkwan's room, hearing him rustle around before you knock. A muffled come in is heard, and you open the door to see him holding a few pins in his mouth as he drags a step stool to the center of the room. His eyes glance up at you, before he beckons you forward. You walk in, arms crossed over your chest as you watch him get situated.

"What's all this?" You peer at the materials he's laid out, seeing a pair of scissors oddly reminiscent of Wonwoo's style. 

"I can't have you working under me without proper attire. So, we're going to do some measurements, and I'll have this done by morning." "So I'm expected to be nude for the next few hours?" You scoff out a laugh, and he gives you a raised brow. 

"I have a few robes, if that'll make you feel better? It doesn't bother me either way, it's your body." "And you've never been attracted to a mortal?" You tease, causing him to pinch the bridge of his nose before taking a deep breath. 

"You won't let this go, will you?" "You may be a god, but you're also a man. Forgive me for assuming you think with both heads." You say, perching on the edge of the step stool and crossing one leg over the other. The towel bares your thighs, and he shakes his head.

"Not being intimate with mortals doesn't mean I don't feel lust or desire." He rolls his eyes, and you smirk at him. 

"But you won't give into your desires because it shows you're just as human as any of us, right?" He sighs, beckoning you to stand. "On the stool, please. Careful." He holds his hand out for the towel, and you peel it off slowly before handing it to him. He drapes it over the back of his desk chair as you step onto the flat seat of the stool. 

He analyzes you carefully, walking around your nude body with his fingers tapping his lips. "Do you prefer your clothes loose?" "On the bottom, easier access if I want to execute my free will." You use air quotes, and he snorts. 

"All humans are the same, riddled with their own desire." "I'm just a woman, Seungkwan. I have needs, too." You roll your eyes as he holds a piece of linen to your hip, before his other hand trails your back to meet the two corners of fabric together. He pins it carefully, before you speak again.

"So what do you do? When you're overwhelmed with want?" You make a show of your words, jazz hands around him as he drapes fabric in certain ways for a different flow. 

He shakes his head, "Do I have to answer that?" "What are you if not an honest god, Seungkwan?" Your teasing makes his jaw clench, you notice, but you say nothing as he pins the fabric in another spot. He doesn't respond, instead choosing to drape the fabric yet another way for more dimension. A few more folds and pins later, he steps back and looks at his work. "Pretty?" He asks, turning you to face the mirror behind you, his hands on your hips as he watches your reaction change into a timid smile. 

"Yeah, pretty." "Perfect." He nods, unpinning it at the hip so it can stay together as it falls off and he drapes it across the bed carefully. "I'll sew this for you and it can be your outfit for tomorrow! I think you need sleepwear, right?" He taps his chin as he thinks, scanning the remaining fabrics. "I don't mind sleeping like this, actually. I'd rather have more day clothing." You speak as you step off the stool, and he hums in response.

"Are you sure? It can get quite cold in the bedrooms." He says, reaching for a bright yellow piece of linen. He holds it up to your chest, a quizzical look in his eyes as he gazes at you carefully. 

"You can warm me up if I get too cold, can't you?" "What is it with you and these odd little questions, threadling? Are you attracted to me?" He rolls his eyes, not expecting you to shrug your shoulders. 

"I'm human, not blind. I might not like you, but I can appreciate that you're nice to look at." You worry his eyes might get stuck in his head if he keeps rolling them, but he shakes his head as he pins the yellow linen over your shoulder. "Humans, such odd creatures." "Odd is good though." You say into the air, and he smiles as he raises your arm to pin the fabric against your ribs. 

"Odd is good, you're right. It keeps me entertained." "I'm not going to be your jester, if that's what you're alluding to." You warn, and he actually laughs, for the first time since you'd arrived. 

"Nonsense, I'd never put you in that position." "What about others?" His face is closer than it had ever been as he pins the fabric around your neck, and he lets out a hum. "I guess we'll never know, will we?"

You're not satisfied with that answer, but Seungcheol made you good at everything – including luring people into your web of lust and yearning, making them a moth to your flame. Surely, Seungkwan was no different.

"But we could." You murmur, trailing your eyes down the soft curve of his jaw. Sighing, he steps back slightly and you feel his warm breath against your skin as he turns you to face the mirror once more. 

He holds the loose fabric in his fingers, pulling it taut against your torso. "We'd pin this back here. What do you think?" "I think you're avoiding my questions because you're scared of giving in to me." You say pointedly, watching his face in the reflection as he purses his lips. 

"Do you like the draping or not, so we can try something else?" "Yeah, I like it." You roll your eyes, feeling the fabric become loose once more as he lets it go, carefully moving around to unpin you. His fingers linger against your skin, before you're nude in front of the mirror once more. This goes on for a while, different linens being draped across your body in almost an expert manner. Pins are carefully put in and pulled out, and soon his bed is covered in your carefully folded options and set aside to be finished for you. "Here, I'm going to take a quick bath and then we need to eat dinner." He slides a robe over your shoulders, prompting you to slip your arms through the soft silk. 

"So seeing me like this does nothing for you?" You try again, and he just chuckles in disbelief.

"Do you want me to compliment you or something? You realize I've seen plenty of naked bodies in my lifetime, right?" He says, replacing the stool in the corner of the room as you perch on the edge of the bed. 

"Oh, I'm sure this is the norm for you. Just loads of beautiful women throwing themselves at you because they think you have something to offer them." "And yet, they never get anything from me." He nods, not seeing the way your eyes widen. 

"What?" "Exactly what I said. You're not the first human to be in this temple, and you might not be the last. Everyone needs me for one thing or another, and once they've gotten their fill, they think I can offer to fill their carnal desires. I guess they see it as a payment, but it's honestly just a bit insulting." He shrugs, and you hum in response.

"So you've never…slept with a mortal?" You ask, leaning on your hands as he rustles through his closet, conjuring a towel and returning in yet another robe. 

He shakes his head. "I never let it get that far." "But you'll do other things? You'll let them touch you?" You prod, and he shrugs, with a smile. 

"I like the game, not super into the prize. As much of a prize as a mortal can be, I guess. I know they don't really want me for me, so I just play along until they realize I won't be giving them what they want. At least, not fully." "What does that mean, though?" You call as he begins to take his walk down to the bathroom, and he sighs loudly. 

"Why does it matter, angel?"

Your lip twitches at the pet name. You choose not to respond, instead letting the conversation seep into your mind and hopping off the bed, making a beeline for the kitchen. 

Might as well make myself useful, you think.

It doesn't take long to prepare a light dinner. Wine, oiled bread and carefully speared fruit. You're forcing a skewer through lamb chunks when you hear him wander into the kitchen, the top notes of his minty soap slightly overwhelming.

You are just a woman, after all.

"Lamb?" He asks, and you can feel the heat of his body behind you. 

You hold up the skewer, nodding, "I figured it'd be quick and easy. I'd like to get to bed early, you said tomorrow would be my demise." "You're dramatic, that is not what I said." He snorts, moving away from you to get the fire started. The two of you work in unison to get dinner on the flame, opting to sit on the same side of the table and sip your wine as you stare at the fire.

"Do you ever feel lonely?" You ask, resting your wine in the dip of your lap. He shakes his head.

"No. I've heard a lot about that, though. Humans feel like they need someone, or something, to fill a void. I think it's just a feeling of emptiness because they've yet to love themselves and choose to fill the hole with material things, or attempt to patch it with someone else."

He sips his wine as you gawk at him, a scoff from your throat.

"That's not at all what that means, Seungkwan."

His head lolls to the side, a smile on his lips. "Isn't it, though? What do you take it to mean?" Okay, maybe he's right. Maybe.

"It means that you…the human emotion is very complex, you know? It means wanting more, it means being satisfied with yourself but wanting companionship. It means–" "It means humans are greedy." He interrupts, and you almost miss the way he inches a little closer. "It means all you do is take, and take, and take. Humans are slaves to the desires they feel, you don't really need anyone to be happy or fulfilled. It's all a human concept."

Your nose scrunches as you grimace, and he sighs, sliding his cup onto the table. "Humans act like loneliness is…for example, you see the stars." He gestures to the window above the counter, the sky now clear and the moonlight floods into the kitchen.

"Humans want to say that loneliness is the stars in the sky looking wrong. Or, they make up things like speaking to the moon and hoping their lover is somewhere else, looking at that very same moon and doing the same. Humans are experts in yearning, because of that free will you've been granted." He states, and you slide closer to him, your thigh bumping his.

"So you've never yearned for anyone?" You ask, looking slightly down at him as he leans back onto the table. 

He shakes his head, "I've never had anyone be worth enough to pine after. I'm just not the kind of god that needs that fulfillment, like Seungcheol or Wonwoo." "So you don't think any mortal and god love stories could be successful? Or any love stories, in general? Have you got a glacier for a heart?" 

He hums, "I do think it's possible, to love and to be loved. However, let's take Mingyu and Tzuyu, for example. Mingyu fell in love with her after striking himself with one of his own arrows. They've been inseparable since, but that doesn't mean they have a beautiful love story. It started as an honest mistake, and now they've been together for as long as I can remember." "Don't you remember how much Tzuyu fought for him after she betrayed him? How she faced his mother, who wanted her dead, to win him back? You don't think she loves him after all she suffered to earn him, and then Mingyu taking her to Seungcheol to make her into a goddess, moved by her love and dedication for him? You don't think that's far more than just a mistake?" "What, you believe in fate?" He asks lazily, and you scoff. "Yes! I do! I believe they were destined to be together!" You argue, and he smiles. 

"You would believe that, yeah. After all, Tzuyu was a mortal. Maybe you want the same for yourself." Your brows furrow, and you knock his shoulder gently. "I would never want to become a goddess, I'd rather die than fall in love with some god who thinks he's too good for me." "Oh, but isn't that what Mingyu did? Fall in love with a mortal despite being better than her, and bringing her to his world to have her forever?" He raises a brow, and you scowl. 

"Mingyu doesn't think that he's better than Tzuyu, otherwise he would have never asked Seungcheol to turn her into a goddess." Seungkwan sits up, his face now mere inches from yours as he speaks. "She betrayed his trust, after he said he could never see his face. Don't you know why that is?" "Have you ever thought that maybe it was to protect her?!" You tongue your cheek in annoyance, the acknowledgement of knowing maybe you're subtly wrong appearing on your face. He smiles, returning to his original position before sighing.

"You're somewhat right, I guess. But, I get it. I can see why that's a beautiful love story to you, full of forgiveness and dedication for a lover. Even if it did start off wrong, some of the most amazing stories never have very clean beginnings." He nods, before standing to retrieve the now cooked skewers from the fire.

You eat silently, the two of you still staring at the fire as you chew. Seungkwan swipes his napkin across your lip a few times, and you find yourself missing the touch as you clean up. He finishes off his wine, and yours once you offer it, and diligently washes both cups as the cicadas chirp outside the window.

Following behind him as he leads the way, you're hesitant to walk past him to your own bedroom. You'd lied about the bed, it was fine. In fact, you were sure it was better than Seungkwan's. "Something on your mind, angel?" He asks as you stop a few feet from your door, and you can almost hear the smug smirk on his face. You tap your foot, wondering if you should admit to the silly little fear of yours. "Closed mouths don't get fed." He calls again, and you huff, turning on your heel and walking to stand in front of him. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" You mutter, hearing his tongue click and echo around the temple. 

"Why? And it's not that my bed is better than yours, I know that." You scowl, "I don't like sleeping alone. I don't like the dark."

His amused look is hidden by his hand over his mouth, a pout on your own as you cross your arms. "You're such a human." "You're being mean." Mumbling, you push past him and tug the covers off his bed. He watches you silently, your robe sliding off your body and pooling at your feet before you slide into the warm duvet. He bites back a laugh, before stepping into the room and gently closing the door behind him. Walking up to the bed, he picks the robe up and hangs it on the bedpost, before rounding the frame and copying your movements on the opposite side. Your eyes are open, and you watch as he slips in next to you.

"Stay on your side. You can obey that, right?" He says into the air, facing away from you as he pulls the cover over his waist. Your eyes trail his back, shoulders slightly tensed as he gets comfortable. You want to reach out and touch him, but choose to clench your hands under your pillow, before sighing and turning the other way.

"Goodnight, Seungkwan."

"Goodnight, angel."

FOUR.

Somehow, Seungkwan was on the other side of the bed.

You were nestled into his naked torso, your lips pouted against his neck. Your hair was a mess around you, your leg flung over his waist as you slept soundly. He rolls his eyes, wondering how to get out of the position without waking you. It's barely dawn, he likes some time to himself before dealing with the mortals that are honestly the bane of his existence.

He gently wraps his fingers around your knee, moving you off his body with precision. He'd never let any of the other mortals sleep in his bed, much less with him, but he knows it's the guilt from killing you off years ago. Unfortunately, Seungkwan is far too aware of his wrongs. In the past, he'd gotten scolded by several of his peers due to his harsh nature. He and Vernon got drunk over an aged wine a few years after your disappearance and Seungkwan admitted he'd jumped the gun on punishment.

What he didn't know was that Vernon spoke to Seungcheol about it, who then spoke to Jeonghan about it. That's how they came up with sending you back to Seungkwan for your last chance at life, maybe you could right your wrongs with each other. You both struggle with pride and yearn to be perfect, never wanting to admit when you're wrong.

But you were human, you knew you couldn't be perfect. You had a softer heart, not having seen the things Seungkwan had seen or lived the life he'd known. Seungkwan had built his walls up nice and high, and rarely let anyone in to take a peek. You in his bed was something he'd never allow if you were just anyone.

He knows it's also his attraction for you coming to the surface. It didn't take a genius to realize that it was this he'd been looking for in every lover he'd ever tried to have – your witty remarks, your obvious disinterest in him or his skills as a god. You weren't looking at him as some being worth worshiping, but someone who needed to be loved, to be held together and forgiven – despite resenting him.

He knows you can't possibly know how much his past decisions weigh on him, but it is scary to think that you can sense something about him. You know something, something that makes him feel uneasy, and it's what's inside. You know his pain, his truth, his heart.

Sighing, he softly rolls you onto your back, covering your bare frame with the duvet. It's only half true, what he said about your body – he's amazed at every curve and dimple, he wants to run his hands all over you until the end of time. He likes the way your hips swing as you walk, the bounce in your step and how soft your cheeks are. How soft you are.

What kind of god is he if he gives into his desires? If he sinks his teeth into you like a cat catching a mouse, if he lets you teeter him around like a puppet for just a taste of you? What kind of god is he if he lusts after you when he knows getting involved with mortals won't end well for him, especially when he knows the moment you sink your claws into him, he'd be a goner? Not much of a god then, is he? "Don't go." You murmur, eyes still closed and brows scrunched as you touch his wrist. He jolts slightly, but moves to pull away anyway. "I have to. I need to make your clothes." He whispers back, the sun beginning to peek in through the open window. 

Pouting, you pull him closer. "Just a little longer." "The sky's awake, angel. I have to be up." He works your fingers off his wrist, splaying your hand across his pillow. "I'm still in the room, I'm not going anywhere." This seems to be enough for you, as he grabs the robe you wore the night before and shrugs it on. He wipes at his eyes carefully, stretching before he slides off the bed. He tucks the corner of the duvet under the pillow, watching your fingers grasp at the pillowcase.

He moves around quietly, gathering the linens he'd pinned for you the night before. He sits at his desk, opening his drawer to get his glasses out and prepares needle and thread. Glancing up, he sees you pouting still, burying your face into his pillow with a sigh – and feels a twinge in his chest.

Zeroing back in, he quietly sews the linen as the sun rises slowly. You toss and turn, frustrated sounds coming from the direction of his bed enticing him to look over – but he doesn't. It's not until he accidentally pricks his finger with a pin that he notices you've gotten up and are settling on the floor next to his chair. 

"What are you doing, threadling?" He asks, almost as if he doesn't really care what you're doing. 

"Can't sleep." You mutter, reaching your fingers out to touch his ankle as you lay down, wrapping yourself like a burrito in the blanket. He peers down at you, seeing the way your fingers ghost over his skin when he sighs, pushing his chair back carefully.

"Alright, come on. Get up." 

You groan up at him, feeling him move away from your fingertips as you sit up. "What?" He doesn't respond, choosing to walk away from you and sink back into the bed. He huffs a bit, trying to hide the giddy feeling in his stomach as he sees you slowly approach. "Quickly, before I change my mind." You climb onto the bed at that, abandoning the blanket on the floor as you lay next to him, your arm loosely wrapping around his torso as he pulls the duvet over you. "Don't lay on the floor again, okay? Just ask me to come back."

"I did, you left me anyway." You murmur, a sad look etched on your brows before you sigh into his robe. He stops himself from comforting you, his fingers aching to run through your wild hair and biting back his apology. He sits silently, letting you drift back asleep holding his hip.

He doesn't like wasting the day. He knows he should pry himself away, and pull you out of bed too. He just can't bring himself to disturb your peace that way.

He gives in, his fingers gently stroking your hairline, moving stray hairs off your face. You lean into the warmth of his hand as he moves the hair off your neck, thumbing the shell of your ear carefully before clearing his throat.

"We've got a busy day, Y/N. We need to get up."

His fingers graze your neck softly, before his thumb caresses your jaw. You sigh into the air as you open your eyes, looking up at him. "It's so early." "Early bird gets the worm. You've yet to have breakfast and get dressed. Come on." He's speaking softly, his thumb now tracing circles into your soft cheeks. He can't help it, pinching the fat gently before moving away. Thankfully, you don't question his actions, just sluggishly throw the duvet off your body. He holds up the skirt from before, the ruby red material glittering in the light. "This one, yes? And the pink top? Or the white one?" "What is this, dress-up?" You yawn, and Seungkwan frowns. "Be nice, I made this for you." "Sorry, oh wisest one. Dress me like a doll." You stand and stretch your arms up, and he rolls his eyes as he carefully wraps the skirt around you, feeling your hands on his shoulders as he pins it in place. 

"Maybe I'll add a little drawstring so it's more secure, hm?" He's speaking to himself, but you nod anyway. "Arms up." He says, before tugging the soft white shirt over your head, carefully slipping your arms through. "There we go. What do you think? Pretty?" He turns you to face the mirror once more, hands on your hips as you sleepily look at yourself. You nod in silence, and he cards his fingers through your hair gently, pulling it back and pulling a piece of white ribbon out of his pocket. He ties the hair back carefully, the ribbon looped into a bow. "So it won't get in the way. Oh, and I'll get my leathersmith started on some shoes for you sometime this week. You'll just be indoors today, so don't worry about getting hurt."

You're peering at him through the mirror, your hands folded in front of you as you speak. "Why do you ask if I think the outfit is pretty?" He raises a brow, "Why the question?" "You asked if I think I look pretty. Why does it matter? It's just us." You shrug, the flowing material of the skirt flowing smoothly as you turn to face him. "And it's not like you'd tell a mortal she's pretty, would you?" Seungkwan can feel that same guttural guilt he felt earlier slowly begin to slip away. He couldn't figure you out – you could be so sweet, so flirty and pouty, and then you could be this. Defiant, bratty, argumentative.

"Can't I want to know if you feel good in what I'm making for you? Would you rather I make you wear a sack? Or walk around nude for anyone to see you?" He scoffs, seeing you smile inwardly. "Does anyone involve you?" He doesn't respond, shaking his head as he sinks into his closet.

Yeah. Anyone involves him, and probably just him.

The morning was messy.

You and Seungkwan bickered over breakfast, ending with the entire kitchen being covered in flour, spilled milk all over the floor and broken eggs across the counter. He'd pulled a recipe from his collection and said that since this was day one of you officially working under him, you'd have to learn how to cook, clean, tend to the garden, amongst other things. You didn't think a dozen biscuits would make you snap.

He'd watched you carefully the entire time, correcting you every time you were wrong with an almost hawk-like precision. It began to irritate you, so you started to make snide remarks. Something about him looking down on you, something about him not trusting you to make a stupid recipe. He'd given you a hard look and said that measuring was important, prying the wrong measuring spoon out of your hand. It took a bit more of Seungkwan saying that's wrong, wrong measurement…for you to throw an egg at him. You missed just barely, with Seungkwan grimacing as the egg splattered and slid down the wall. You mixed angrily as he watched the egg pool on the floor, before his eyes took in the mess you'd made all over the kitchen – spilling milk from him telling you that you poured too much, flour dusted all over the floor from him telling you to let the dough rest before you molded it.

It resulted in Seungkwan leaving the kitchen to collect himself, before returning to seeing you watching the dough intensely. Your impatience would be the bane of his existence.

Neither of you spoke after the portioned dough went into the oven. Jaws tense, shoulders rigid as you moved around each other to clean up. Or rather, as you cleaned up and he sliced fruit for breakfast.

It seemed that neither of you really wanted to do anything else, either, as you watched Seungkwan tinker around the garden alone. He'd said nothing about needing space, but you figured it was probably what was best – so you dragged the stepstool to his bedroom window and watched as he carefully picked flowers from the garden, your eyes drawn to the decorative patches of daisies. You felt a bit like a prisoner. Nobody had told you whether or not you were allowed to leave, or go beyond the temple. You were sure Seungkwan wouldn't force you to stay here, after all, he'd reminded you quite a bit of your free will. Free will that you can't really act on, because then you'd be invading him. It felt almost like a betrayal, the way your body responded to seeing him again. Like he'd grown more interesting to your brain, something sunken in the back of his gaze that said maybe he liked seeing you, too. It was annoying, how you felt this overwhelming need to be around him, even if you knew you just wanted to bicker and bother and nag him. You wanted him to be sorry, you wanted him to show you he was sorry for what happened between you all those years ago.

Unfortunately, you also know well enough to understand why he did it. Pride, the easiest sin of all, had marked you as its prey. And it's fine. You're fine, you think, because if Seungkwan can sin so can you.

Sighing to yourself, you've seen that the god has vanished from the garden. Your eyes gaze upon the vast garden, searching for him when you hear his light footsteps echoing in the temple. You refuse to look back, hearing him enter the bedroom as you cast your eyes to the windowsill. A butterfly rests carefully, when you hear him clear his throat.

"I'll be going into town. Don't expect me home before nightfall."

You turn quickly, your eyes wide. "Can I go, too? I don't want to be locked away here like some damsel in distress." He shakes his head, "Not tonight. I'm just meeting a friend. You can go wherever you please, but I bought something for you from an old student of mine. I'd like you to be here to receive it." 

He's rolling his sleeves up, and you see now the basket of flowers he'd been gathering placed gingerly on the vanity. "Are the flowers for her?" "Her?" He echoes, and you narrow your eyes. "It's a her, right? The friend you're meeting?"

"Jealousy isn't a good look on you, angel." He taunts, before swiping his hair back carefully. "Again, I'll be back before nightfall. Roam the gardens, meet the few neighbors we have, do as you please. Make sure you eat dinner." In a way, you feel like a neglected housewife.

"You're leaving now?" You don't mean to sound so sad, so small. So…needy.

He looks at you over his shoulder, a raised brow. "You don't want me to?"

You don't say anything, flitting your eyes to the flowers on the vanity. He sighs, walking towards you and reaching for the window shutters. He pulls them closed, "Looks like rain, anyway." "No, go. You can go, don't stay because of me." You rush out, standing quickly. He glances at you carefully, eyes narrowed. "It's Mingyu and Tzuyu, they'll understand." "Please, go. It'll do me some good to be alone with my thoughts for a while." You nearly clasp your hands together in prayer, as if begging him to leave. He's hesitant, eyes scanning your features quickly before nodding. "I'll be home soon, okay?" You nod as he inches back towards the doors, and you pull the shutters back open, letting the setting sunlight back in. He takes the basket of flowers gingerly and you retake your seat on the stool quietly, before calling out to him.

"See you later."

Seungkwan can barely hold himself up as he nears the temple. Mingyu and Tzuyu offered to drop him off after their dinner together, but he refused – insisting he needed some time to think.

Tzuyu had asked about his latest pupil – upon hearing that it was you, she nearly choked on her wine. He simply focused on his mushroom soup, insisting he didn't really care.

Mingyu hadn't bought it, and casually dropped you into conversation every chance he got. He waxed poetic about the way a mortal loves, the way they feel, the way they taste. Everything Seungkwan had been told was like a drug – and something he couldn't bring himself to indulge in any more than he already had – despite it not ever doing much for him. He had even told you so – mortal and god relationships weren't for the faint of heart, for eventually, it'd be the god left standing alone.

So, no. He wouldn't indulge – even if the god of love himself was encouraging it. 

Mingyu and Tzuyu were a special case. It wasn't everyday Seungcheol had something pull at his heartstrings, such as the love between the couple had. A love that proved imperfection could be overlooked, that Mingyu's heart sang for Tzuyu as the birds did every morning.

Seungkwan just blinked and drank his wine, keeping quiet as the trio eventually scoured the market.

He had seen a few things he thought you'd like – many a ball of yarn, skirts that wouldn't fall lower than your mid-thigh woven from dyed silk and sparkled with glued rhinestones. But one thing caught his eye most – a gold necklace with a small emerald pendant. Representing growth and renewal, the emerald mocked him. Representing you returning to the Overworld to change, and choosing to change for the better. He bought it, and shoved it in his pocket as Mingyu and Tzuyu perused new linens for their home.

Seungkwan understood that he could desire you. He could, and that it was perfectly okay to get involved with you. It was perfectly okay to explore your body, to become one with you, to let you into his heart and let you make yourself at home in it. His fear wasn't in the commitment or the fact that it was you, someone he'd hurt so long ago – but the fact that your suspicions of his imperfection would ring with truth. He knew he wasn't perfect, he knew that he had his flaws – but what kind of a god was he to admit that to a mortal? At this point, he considers admitting it to himself to be progress.

Sighing, he grabs the pillar of the temple to steady himself. He'd drunk a bit too much to stand up straight, but he was coherent enough to hear you toss and turn as he entered the sacred home. Your groan was evident, as was the thwip of his bedsheets as he quietly walked down the hall.

He tugs his shirt over his head before opening the door softly, watching as you shoot up in bed with the duvet covering your chest. 

"You're home." You breathe out, and he just nods silently, stumbling into the closet and fumbling around as he peels his clothes off. He hears the clatter of the necklace he bought on the marble tile, before looking down and picking it up. He holds it up to the moonlight, before grabbing his robe and shrugging it on, slipping the jewelry into his pocket. 

He doesn't acknowledge you as he walks to the bathroom, beelining for his toothbrush. He could bathe in the morning – he just wants to lie down next to you and breathe you in.

"How was it?" You call as he trudged back, his hands shoved in his pockets as he slightly swayed from side to side. Shrugging, "Ate. Talked to Mingyu and Tzuyu. Got a little drunk, I'm definitely going to feel it in the morning. Sorry." You smile at him, shaking your head before pulling the duvet back as he reaches the side of the bed. You're sitting with your knees to your chest, and he catches a glimpse of the skirt you were wearing earlier hung across the back of his desk chair. "Do you ever wear clothes to bed?" "Just when you make me." You shrug, and he shakes his head, biting back a smile. "I got you something." You quickly tuck your legs under yourself as you sit up, the duvet falling off your body and the moonlight illuminating your skin. He tears his eyes away, pulling his hand out of his pocket and holding up the necklace. Your hand floats to your chest, having abandoned your own necklace in the bathroom the day you arrived at the temple. It felt too heavy, then. Too synonymous with your first life.

"It represents growth. You're making a choice to grow as a person, and make better decisions. No matter the reason behind it, you're still attempting to make amends and I think that deserves a small reward." Your eyes are wide as you stare at him, his fingers carefully unclasping it and beckoning you closer. He watches as you scoot to the edge of the bed, wary of him as your knees touch his thighs. "I don't bite, you know. Not unless you want me to."

"Haha, very funny." You roll your eyes, and he raises an eyebrow before his hands ghost over your skin. His fingers carefully hold your hair out of the way as he clasps the necklace around your neck, the pendant sitting low on your chest. He fixes it, twisting it so the gem faces out. "I expect you to treasure this." You blink up at him, before wrapping your arms around him and enveloping him in a soft embrace. "Thank you." You whisper, and he feels himself tense up as you squeeze gently. His hands ghost over your back, before slightly shaky fingers touch the warmth of your skin.

"You're welcome, angel. Did you eat dinner like I said?" He asks, not having the courage to pull away from you, not when your warmth feels so…something. You nod against his chest, your cheek pressed against his skin making him feel a little hot.

"It wasn't much, I didn't like being by myself."

"I'm here now, angel. I'll take you with me next time, I promise." He reassures, feeling his stomach feel with giddiness at the thought of spending time with you around his friends. Okay, that involves admitting Mingyu was right – but he doesn't need to touch base on that just yet.

"Oh, your friend dropped by." You make no move to get out of his grasp, his fingers now subconsciously tracing circles into your lower back. "Mmh? Did you like your gift?" He'd asked Chan to source a loom for you. He knew it was something you liked, and probably something that could fill any free time that he managed to have. He knew it'd remind you of your father, too, and he wanted something to give you a sense of belonging.

"I love it. Thank you." You murmur, and he feels your lips press lightly into his chest. Warmth blooms in his cheeks as he pulls away from you, his hands sliding up your body and now resting on your shoulders. "We'll be in the garden tomorrow, so we should get some rest." You nod, laying back onto the bed, inching over to your side (that wasn't really your side, just 'yours' because you refused to sleep in your room.) He hung his robe on the bedpost, and slid under the covers, facing away from you and urging the heat in his body to go away. HIs mind doesn't get to wander much further, though, as your sigh is the last thing he hears before he hears before he feels his eyes heavy with sleep.

He could think about it tomorrow.

FIVE.

Okay. This is normal. This happens to everyone. This happens to everyone.

…He's not everyone.

He's trying to convince himself that your ass pressed against him isn't affecting him in any way, shape or form. He's trying to think of the most disgusting things to make his hardening cock go down so he doesn't wake you so lewdly. He can't even fucking move away from you, because somehow, throughout the night – you managed to get him to spoon you, and now your fingers are interlocked with his over the top of his hand.

He's literally trapped between a rock (hard boner) and a hard place (again…his boner.) He tries not to let his internal panic show as he controls his breathing, carefully trying to pull himself out of your grasp. He feels your grip tighten around his hand, and peers over to see your brows furrowed and lip jutted out in a pout.

"Stay." You murmur, obviously completely oblivious to his predicament.

"I have to get up, angel." He wiggles his fingers under yours, making you sigh discontentedly. "You said you'd stay if I asked." He did. He did say that.

"I know, angel, I know. I'll come back, I promise." He murmurs, and he sees you peel open one of your eyes and gently twist your head to look at him. Your eye scans his face, before you close it and turn back.

"If you want me to help you, I can. It doesn't have to mean anything." He chokes slightly, seeing you snuggle your face further into your pillow.

He wants to. He really, really wants you to touch him, he wants to feel you all over him. He wants to hold you close and feel everything you have to give him, taking everything you want to give him.

He feels your thumb gently stroking his knuckles, the cool metal of your ring startling before you speak softly. "It's just me. I won't hold it against you if you don't want to, or if you do. It's normal." Your reassurance isn't something he expected nor knew he needed. He clears his throat, before the warmth of your hand has moved. You're turning to face him, peering up at him with sleepy eyes. You're so beautiful.

He doesn't realize he's staring at you until he feels your nails gently raking up and down his torso. Your eyes are drinking him in carefully, before they ultimately close again and you nuzzle your nose into his neck without a word. Your fingertips graze the tip of his cock, making his hips jerk involuntarily as a whine rips through him. He hasn't been touched by anyone that isn't himself in years.

And now, it's you. Your hands, your body, you.

"Can I make you feel good? Please?" You press soft kisses into his neck, nipping lightly at his skin. He nods quickly, a muffled yes slipping past his lips as he covers his mouth with his hand. You push him onto his back gently, trailing kisses down his neck and chest as you take his weeping cock in your soft hand. You hold it as your teeth graze at any inch of skin you can reach, before looking up at him.

"I can't kiss you, right?" He can feel his heart ache at the slight…sadness? in your tone, and the way it shows in your eyes as he shakes his head no. "I…" "You what? You're sorry?" You roll your eyes, squeezing his length gently. "Don't be, gorgeous." He doesn't get a chance to respond before your tongue is on him, running carefully along the underside of his cock. He covers his mouth with his hand, a shudder running through his body as you spit in your hand, stroking him slowly and pressing kisses all over his stomach. His free hand grips the duvet, before you slot your fingers in his.

You don't look at him as you take him in your mouth, your tongue licking gently as he groans softly. His fingers squeeze around yours, and you hum to yourself as you sink further down his length, gagging around his tip as his hips buck. A whimper from his throat tears through the air as you stroke what doesn't fit, hollowing your cheeks slightly.

He's holding back noises, the room filling with the wet sound of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Soft huffs of yeah, murmurs of holy f-fuck only spur you on further, feeling his hand untangle from yours to card through your hair and move your head up and down at his leisure. His grip tightens as you swirl your tongue around his tip.

"Oh my…" He whines, and you tease your tongue down the thick vein. "Oh my…what? Oh my God?"

He scoffs at you, but his words fade on his tongue as you sink down on him again. You gag around him, pulling a throaty moan from his bitten lips as he cants into your mouth. "S-Sorry, I can st–" You groan around him, feeling his tip twitch as it touches the back of your throat again. He whimpers, his release spilling into your mouth. It's a little salty as it coats your tongue, but you slide him out with a pop. Your tongue diligently cleans the mess, overstimulating him as he squirms, pushing your head back.

You trail soft kisses up his torso, nipping at his chest before moving up his neck. You peer down at him, eyes locked with his as he blinks up at you. "All better, right?" You say gently, and feel your chest swell with pride, seeing his cheeks tinge pink as he looks away.

Shrugging, you brush his hair out of his eyes, kissing his cheeks lightly. You press a kiss to the tip of his nose, smiling as he scrunches it. Lowering your head, your teeth tug at his earlobe before you speak softly.

"Always an angel, never a god." You murmur, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you slink off the bed. You stand up straight, stretching your arms over your head with a soft groan.

You don't see his humiliated expression, flipping your hair over your shoulder as you make your way out of the bedroom. You don't see the way he covers himself with the blanket as you turn into the bathroom, or the way he hides his face in his hands and angrily wipes at his eyes.

Always an angel, never a god.

The day went by quietly.

You bathed and made breakfast, and stayed…mostly true to your word. You didn't bring up anything that happened that morning, and Seungkwan didn't say anything about your condescending comment afterwards. He chose to spend his day in the garden, even as the rain started falling.

You watched from the doorway, holding the cloth he'd given you right after breakfast. He'd instructed you to wash the windows around the temple, and you'd done so without a fight. A part of you felt that today wasn't a day to mess with him, but you also figured that what you'd said this morning was enough to knock him off the pedestal he'd put himself on.

You felt a little guilty, but was it not the truth?

What kind of a god is he to fall prey to your temptation? What kind of a god is he to take from you what he's not willing to give, to your knowledge? What kind of god is he, to judge you for being lustful, to judge you for yearning for another's touch, when yours made him come undone?

Not a very good one, that's what. Right?

You watched him as the rain fell, the way his brows furrowed as he continued picking flowers and wrapping herbs with twine. He walked around like the rain did nothing, and you sighed inwardly. You turned on your heel, abandoning the bucket of soapy water and the cloth in lieu of entering the kitchen, rooting around for his kettle. You'd grabbed a towel earlier and draped it over the back of the dining chairs, hoping he'd come in eventually.

He'd want something warm, you think.

You busy yourself with making a warm tea, hearing Seungkwan groan as he slips his wet clothing off at the entrance. You hear the wet plop of the clothing dropping on the floor, and you hear his teeth chatter a bit as you peek your head around the corner.

His chest was blooming with evidence of your teeth on him from earlier. You feel your chest fill with heat as you notice the prominent trail of love bites down to his waist. Your eyes widen as you grab the towel, silently trekking the expanse between you and holding it out to him. He gives you a frown.

"Take it, you'll get sick." You grimace, and he ignores you as he kicks off his shoes, his fingers toying with the buckle of his belt. He pulls it through the loops, tossing it to the side when you huff, shoving the towel into his chest. "You're going to get sick!" "I don't need your help, Y/N." He shoves it back, and you scowl, the words tumbling from your lips before you can stop them.

"You didn't mind my help this morning. Take the fucking towel." His eyes narrow as he chooses to turn away, shoving his pants down his legs and kicking the soaked material out of his way. "I didn't need it then." "You're such a fucking brat, Seungkwan." You throw the towel on the ground as he pushes past you, heading towards the bathroom. You storm back into the kitchen, your brain telling you to dump out the tea.

Unfortunately, you don't quite listen to your brain very often. You pour the tea into a cup, hearing the rain slow down. Looking out the kitchen window, you see it stop entirely. You start to think the rain is symbolic of every time you have a spat with Seungkwan, and you wouldn't put it past Seungcheol to try and Pavlov that idea into your brain.

Grimacing, you stir in a spoonful of honey. The only water you hear now is that of the running faucet in the bathroom, and you felt your chest heavy as you think of Seungkwan.

How his skin felt under your bruised fingers. The way he tasted. Something soft, balanced. How he reacted and how he forced himself to hold back, how his fingers felt as they squeezed your hand for dear life.

You shake your head, biting down hard on your cheek to ground yourself. This was ridiculous. Today was only the fourth day of him…'mentoring' you. It seems that the two of you had forgotten that that was why you were sent here – to 'develop' your skills, to 'embrace' your mortality, to 'find yourself.'

Quite the contrary – it felt an awful lot like you were losing yourself in this. In him, the comfort of his bed, the warmth of his touch and attention. You weren't complaining – truthfully, it'd been a long time since you felt desired, or any sort of desire bubbling within you. There was that one time with Wonwoo six years ago, and that oddball moment with Jeonghan right after your fourth visit to the Underworld. 

This…felt different.

You felt guilty, you felt like you weren't putting your best foot forward. With Jeonghan and Wonwoo, it was something that happened in the heat of the moment. Something that was for the instantaneous satiation of both parties, and you were never one to shy away from a night of fun with anyone – including mortals. You'd had your fair share in just your first life, why would you stop now? Seungkwan…felt like something just out of your reach, as much as you hated to admit it. He felt like something you had to work towards, someone you had to prove yourself to. He held himself in a high regard, with standards that you weren't so sure you met.

But he looked at you with such an intense mix of disdain…and desire. Something that screamed he didn't want to look at you as anything more than yet another pupil, but he couldn't help his eyes from wandering. He could lie to you all he wanted, but you feel different.

Sighing, you leave the tea on the table, clasping your hands behind your back. You walk silently out of the kitchen and down the hallway, passing the bathroom just as Seungkwan opens the door. He gives you a quizzical look but you continue on anyway, making your way to your bedroom.

The place is barren aside from the bed, the lamp, a pair of nightstands and the loom you were given. The floor is colder here than the rest of the temple, and you don't know if that's on purpose or not. You flop onto the bed with a grunt, your head hitting the pillows and you stare at the ceiling.

What is the point of you being here, anyway? You and Seungkwan hardly speak. He's not teaching you anything you don't already know – even if baking a dozen biscuits isn't your strong suit, you can make a decent batch. You know how to pick pretty flowers, you know how to make tea, you can make clothes and you can certainly weave a damn good tapestry.

Why can't you just keep doing that? Why can't you just keep your word to Seungcheol and Jeonghan and stay out of Seungkwan's way? "It's because we don't trust you." You jolt out of the bed, your head just barely missing the edge of the nightstand as you fall off. You feel your shoulder hit the corner of an open drawer, drawing a loud fuck! from your lips.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" You groan from the floor, and Jeonghan just chuckles as he hops through the open window, rounding the bed to kneel beside you. You sit up, rubbing furiously at your shoulder in attempts to soothe the shooting pain. "A little bird told me you were being a bad girl, Y/N." "Oh fuck off, I was not!" Whining, you look at the already bruising skin under your shirt. You scoff, peering up at Jeonghan, who smiles down at you. "So what do you call sleeping with the enemy?" "I did not sleep with him! I merely performed a sexual act for him. God forbid I have a little fun." You scowl, and Jeonghan pinches your cheek gently. "Seungcheol is not happy about it, darling. You know the rules." "The rules were I don't challenge anyone. You never said I couldn't go down on the person holding me hostage." You say pointedly, making Jeonghan snort out a laugh. "I mean, I don't care. I get it, and I think I know you better than anyone when I say you're not interested in Seungkwan for what he can offer you, but what you can discover about him…with him." You slump against the wall, a pout on your lips when you hear a knock on the door. Jeonghan's eyes grow wide as Seungkwan edges the door open, worming his arm through and holding a plate out to you.

"Dinner." "You eat alone here?" He asks, and Seungkwan's head pokes through the crack with eyes so wide, you feared they'd pop out. "Jeonghan? What are you doing here?"

"Just reconnecting with my little troublemaker." He shrugs, pinching your cheek as you frown, shoving his hand away. Seungkwan's eyes show his conflicted feelings, and he simply steps in and slides the plate on the nightstand. "Bring the plate back to the kitchen before sundown." He spins on his heel, and leaves. The door shuts quietly behind him, and Jeonghan gives you a knowing look. You give him a sheepish smile in return, but neither of you make a move for the light dinner on the nightstand.

"You eat alone?" "No. I think…ugh." You bring your knees to your chest, burying your face into them as you groan. "I fucked up, Jeonghan." "Oh, good! The plan is working!" He cheers, before reaching for the plate on the nightstand. "Here, let's split this lovely dinner. I'm a long way from home, you know." You just groan again, and Jeonghan clicks his tongue at you. "That's the whole point of this, darling. You get knocked down a few pegs, and Seungkwan gets loosened up. Granted, neither Cheollie nor I figured you'd go this route but, whatever works." "Cheollie?" You snort, and Jeonghan shrugs. "That's my best friend, and he pays for all my fish. I can call him whatever I want." You shake your head as Jeonghan offers you a piece of bread, and you bite into it as you lean your head back against the wall. "He hates me." You mutter around the bread, and Jeonghan laughs.

"I'd argue the opposite, my dear. I think that the two of you find each other very intriguing. It's almost like two cats sizing each other up before deciding if the other is a threat. In this case, you're a small cat with a huge ego and he's a big cat with…well, a multitude of problems. You are human enough that you know how to relax, but also annoying enough to figure out what buttons to press to rile him up enough to break." "I don't think calling me annoying is helping your case here, Jeonghan." You smack his thigh, and he laughs gently. "I just think the two of you balance each other well. You're so painfully human, and so open about your flaws. Seungkwan has a hard time admitting aloud that he isn't perfect, because this lavish life we live…it weighs on him. Sometimes, I wonder if Cheollie did the right thing." "What do you mean?" You ask, taking a piece of sliced peach off the plate and peeling the skin off. Jeonghan shrugs, and speaks around a chunk of fig.

"Seungkwan is very loved, don't get me wrong. However, Seungkwan is quite literally Seungcheol's biggest headache. He came about after Cheol had yet another affair with someone aside from his ex-wife. Seungkwan cannot fathom being anything like Seungcheol in regards to his adulterous behavior and incessant need for attention, so he isolates his heart." Jeonghan turns to you, eyeing the furrow in your brow as you chew. "You bring it out of him, you know? The ability to feel more than he allows himself to. The range of emotions is much broader with you around, and we feel like it will be good for him." "You know he said he won't kiss me?" You mumble, and Joenghan leans his head on your shoulder, closing his eyes. "I know, darling. It's addicting, the kiss of a mortal. You should know better, your pretty lips are what gets you in trouble." You scoff, but sigh.

"How does he know? Has he…kissed other mortals?" You don't know you're pouting until you feel Jeonghan's thumb on your lip. "Plenty. I think…maybe there is something different about you to him. Maybe it's the guilt." "Or he's in love with me." You roll your eyes, the phrase feeling foreign on your tongue. You'd never been in love before, and to be honest, you didn't care to be. Jeonghan hums next to you, before looking up. "Maybe." There is a moment of silence before you choke out a laugh. "Yeah, right. The guy hates my guts." "He doesn't hate you, darling. He just doesn't understand you, but that's why you're here." Jeonghan shrugs, before pressing a kiss to your temple. "Be a good girl, okay? He's trying his best, just like you are." "I'll try my best, Jeonghan." You sigh, watching as the god stands, and stretches before he steps in front of the window. "And, Y/N?" "Yes, Jeonghan?" Jeonghan smiles, his maroon eyes flashing with a hint of mirth as he swings his legs over the windowsill. "Don't fall too fast." You scoff as he disappears, and look down to pick at the last piece of fruit on the plate. Half a fig.

Sighing, you pick it up and stand, walking towards the door and opening it. You slip into the hall quietly, noting the moonlight lighting the temple nicely. Walking into the kitchen, you see Seungkwan nursing a glass of wine as he sits in front of the oven.

There's yet another dimpled focaccia with halved cherry tomatoes and coarse salt baking before you. The two of you had practically inhaled the first loaf, sneaking bites throughout the last two days. He looks up as he hears you step in, lips pursed before turning back.

You sigh inwardly, shoveling the last fig you picked at into your mouth before leaving the plate in the sink. He says nothing as you slide into the seat next to him, but offers his glass. You take it silently, keeping your gaze forward.

"You don't like skin on peaches?" He asks quietly, and you press your lips into a thin line. "No. My dad always peeled them for me." "Dads…" He nods, and you glance at him. "Yeah. You're…Seungcheol's favorite, right?" "Don't." The wine bottle from behind him is brought to his lips, and you stare at your fingernails. "Don't…what? Isn't he–" "Hardly." Seungkwan mutters, and you don't press further. You know that Seungkwan doesn't resent or dislike Seungcheol, all the gods in this world seemed very close and proved it often. Seungcheol has spoken highly of Seungkwan in all the times you've ever gotten to speak to him, usually in Jeonghan's presence. Typically over a dinner before Jeonghan would send you back with Wonwoo and Cerberus.

Seungkwan sighs beside you, and you resist the urge to reach and touch him. You grip the edge of the bench, forcing yourself to stare at the bread before Seungkwan gets up, taking it out carefully with the wooden peel. He slides it onto the counter, before the fire goes out in front of you.

"It's nightfall. Off to bed." He murmurs, and you nod silently, downing the rest of the wine in the glass he gave you. He takes it, gently placing it into the sink as you stand. "Goodnight, Seungkwan." "You're sleeping in your room tonight?" He asks, eyes expectant. You clear your throat, feeling your cheeks burn as you nod. "Yes. At least, I'll try to." He hums, nodding. "Good luck, threadling. I'll see you in the morning." Pushing past you, you hear him walk briskly down the hallway, his heavy door opening and shutting before you even turn around. You let out a breath you weren't aware you were holding, running your hand through your hair as you spin on your heels, quickly walking down the hallway.

"Fuck." You mutter to yourself as you breeze past his bedroom, hearing him rustle around. You were good at many things and feared almost nothing – but you held this fear near and dear to your heart. You hated being alone, and you were scared of ending up alone forever.

You're as human as they come.

You skirt into your room, quickly closing the door behind you and closing the open shutters of your window. You light the lamp on one of the nightstands, stripping quickly before ripping your duvet off and wrapping yourself in it. Sitting on the bed, you scoot up all the way until you're practically sitting on your pillows, and bring your knees to your chest.

It's time to learn to be alone.

Seungkwan can't sleep.

He's been laying in his bed for what feels like hours, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling. 

He sighs, knowing that your absence is taking a toll on him. He felt bad about everything that has happened throughout the day, but he can't bring himself to admit that to you. He can't bring himself to say sorry about speaking to you the way he did earlier, or making you eat alone, though it wasn't his intention. He just assumed you'd want to be alone, but his heart sank when he saw the teacup you'd left him, so warm and sweet and everything you were that he couldn't have.

Groaning, he kicks the covers off, grabbing his robe off the bedpost and wrapping it around himself. He slides out of bed, walking to his door and yanks it open, letting it go as he takes the sharp turn down the hall to your bedroom. He can see the glow from the lamp under the door, and he wonders if he should knock.

He decides against it, choosing to open it slowly. He sees you curled up against the wall, your eyes half closed when he clears his throat. You jump, eyes filled with panic when you finally see him. He bites back his laugh as you scowl, walking towards your bed. He kneels on it, tugging the corner of your duvet over your shoulder. 

"How are you holding up here?" He asks, and you frown as you turn away from him, screwing your eyes shut. "I'm fine." "You're sitting on your pillows, angel." He tuts, making you groan. "Go away, Seungkwan." "And to think I was going to ask if you wanted to move to my room." He sighs, and you peel one eye open, looking him up and down. "As if you'd spare me." "Contrary to popular belief, I was going to do so." He says pointedly, and you turn to face him. Your cheek is lined with the rough pattern on the wall, making his heart ache. He felt awful that you were forcing yourself in here, and he clicked his tongue.

"Come on. You're not faring well in here, it seems. It's only just that I spare you this one time." Rolling his eyes, he ignores your small smile. "This one time, he says. What a just and fair god." "Shut up." He stands upright, and he hears you sigh as he turns away. "I'm sorry about earlier, Seungkwan."

He stills, hearing you clear your throat. "I said one thing and did another, that wasn't fair of me. I shouldn't have said anything about what transpired this morning–" "You're a human, Y/N. I'd be foolish to fully trust your word, you know that, right?" He interrupts, and you're silent. He peers over his shoulder, seeing your eyes narrowed as you slip off the bed, keeping the duvet wrapped around you as you shove your way out of the bedroom.

He sighs, putting out your lamp before following suit. You're already in his bedroom by the time he reaches the door, and you're laying on the very edge of the bed. As far as you could be without being on the floor, and as close as you could be to another being so as to not be alone.

He shakes his head, closing the door behind him. Slipping his robe off, he slides into the bed. His stomach is far more at ease having you at arm's length, being able to just barely make out your frame from under your layered duvets.

"Goodnight, Seungkwan." You mutter, and he turns onto his side. "Goodnight, angel."

SIX.

You didn't sleep very well, you weren't going to lie to yourself.

It was like you were on the verge of falling asleep, but it just never happened. You could feel your body more sluggish than you'd felt the past few mornings. However, today, you were once more graced by Seungkwan pressed to your back. The sun wasn't up, the sky gloomy as you turned in his hold. His eyes were closed, but he was so close you could count his eyelashes. You stared at him tiredly, before you heard him speak. "You're staring awfully hard." "I can't sleep." You mutter back, and his eyes remain closed as he nods. "Mmh. Would you like to stay in the bedroom today? It smells like rain."

"You can smell rain?" You ask, and he shrugs. "Some days it's stronger than others, the smell. It's like wet Earth and whatnot." 

You nod, though he can't see you. Sighing, you close your eyes again, hoping you'll fall asleep at the proximity between you two. You weren't going to lie to yourself, he brought you a comfort you couldn't quite place. Like he could judge but he won't, like he could leave, but he won't. 

"Do you need anything to help you sleep? I know humans can be fussy if they don't get enough rest." He murmurs, and you peel open one eye to look at him. His eyes are still closed, as if he's also trying to will himself to sleep. You don't reply, hoping he'll use some stupid godly power to read your mind.

"Y/N, closed mouths don't get fed." He reminds you, and you groan. "Fine, fine. Can you just…hold me?" "Hold you?" He repeats, and you shift next to him. He sighs, before carefully draping his arm over your waist, pulling you closer into him. His fingers are cool against your back, tracing circles into your skin as you nestle into the crook of his neck. "Better?" "Mhm." You hum into his skin, before feeling his lips press to your hairline. It's quick, and so light you almost missed it. "What's that for?" "For yesterday." He mumbles back, before settling again. You brush it off, choosing to relax in his embrace as his breathing slows. He's fallen back asleep, presumably only awoken by your movement.

You must've fallen asleep as well at some point, because a crack of thunder startles you awake. Pressing a hand to your chest, you look up to see Seungkwan staring behind you, seemingly lost in thought as his fingers continue to trace shapes into your back. Your leg is now draped over his hip, and he's holding himself up on his elbow.

"Seungkwan?" His eyes dart down to you, before a look of concern takes over. "Hm? Are you okay?" "Yeah." You nod, and he gives you a curt nod back, before returning to his spacing out. You don't have it in you to tell him you're overheating, so you just settle back in. "Are you okay? What are you looking at?" 

"Nothing. I'm just waiting for you." He shrugs, and you tilt your head at him. "For what?" "You ask a lot of questions, threadling."

"You avoid them a lot."

He raises his brow at your quip, before splaying his fingers across your hip, giving it a soft squeeze. "I didn't want to disturb your rest. If I get up, you'll wake up. Then everything after is a domino effect." You stare up at him, your eyes tracing his features. Round eyes, soft lips. Lips that let painful things slip, only to be soothed by other things tumbling out. Eyes that held truths, that held fire and held want. A wanton yearning to be loved.

"You're staring, angel." "You're pretty." You shrug, and he rolls his eyes, but you don't miss the way his ears tinge pink as he sighs. "Well, you're up. Let's get a move on, the day is full of opportunity."

He looks down at you, eyes narrowing as they fall to your shoulder. You hadn't noticed the bruise that bloomed from your fall yesterday, and he moves your hair out of the way gently. His fingers grazed the welted spot, "What happened here?" "Oh, I fell off the bed when Jeonghan appeared yesterday." You look down at it, his brows furrowed. "Does it hurt?" "I'm sure it will if you press on it." You roll your eyes, and he frowns. "Why didn't you tell me?" "Why would I? You were mean to me yesterday." You scoff, making him return the noise of disdain. "You started it!" "Let's not play the blame game. Clearly one of us should be the one who leads here and you're not doing a very good job of it." Shaking your head, you hear him groan above you. 

"Fine. It wasn't my intention to treat you poorly yesterday, and I will try my best to not have it happen again. Is that what you wanted to hear?" You frown at him, your lip jutted out just slightly. "You can't just say sorry?" Your eyes lock with his for a second, scanning each other. He wants to, you can tell, he wants to apologize. He wants to make it up to you, but pride is a far stronger power than any remorse in the air. His hand gently tucks a stray curl behind your ear, fingers lingering on your cheek.

"Don't pout, it's not a good look on you." He presses his lips to your forehead, before pulling away and throwing the duvet off the both of you. You huff, watching as he slips out of bed and grabs his robe from the bedpost. He pulls it on swiftly, and you roll onto your back stretching your arms over your head before pushing the duvet further off your body. You're sure it's well past noon at this point.

You hear Seungkwan click his tongue, and you look up to see him standing at the window, leaning on the window sill. He's scanning the vast gardens, likely trying to plan for yet another day of rain. You slide out of bed, crossing your arms over your bare chest as you walk over to look with him.

"Wonder what's got Seungcheol in a mood." You murmur, seeing the flooded pond towards the edge of the garden. A frog hops into the flowers, and Seungkwan shrugs. "Sometimes he just likes to make it rain. Anything to get his name in someone's mouth." You snort, and he smiles inwardly.

"If the rain lets up this week, we can go to the market. I need to find out if my leathersmith can make shoes for you, and I don't think Chan brought the yarn for you, did he?" He peers up at you, and you sigh, shaking your head. "I don't mind waiting, though. I can find something else to do." "Like washing the windows that you forgot about yesterday?" He says pointedly, and you scoff out a laugh. "Way to be subtle." He smiles widely, reaching to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you closer. You oblige, allowing him to move you in front of him. "It's pretty, though, isn't it? The rain?" "It's dreary sometimes. I think of it more as a necessary evil." You nod, feeling his chin rest gently on your shoulder. "It brings things to life but it also drowns out any happiness I have for the day. The lack of sunshine makes me depressed." "I heard that, yeah. Something about mortals not faring well during the colder months, because there's no sun." He nods, and you feel his hands wrap around your waist, clasping together over your navel. "I assume it's just that same darkness, right? It's like, desperation." "It just makes me sad. There's a lack of life, in my opinion." You twist to look at him, seeing him close his eyes. "I agree, there's something missing when the days get shorter. I lose a lot of motivation." Your eyes widen at his admission, but you don't get a chance to expand on it before feeling his lips plant a soft kiss on your shoulder. "You should get dressed, we haven't eaten anything yet."

He makes no move to let you go, instead choosing to trail his lips along your skin before reaching the thin gold chain he'd given you a few days earlier. "Seungkwan…" "Mmh?" He tugs at it with his teeth, before nipping at your neck softly. You jolt in his hold, your skin littering with goosebumps at the contact of his teeth. Shivering, you twist further in his hold, feeling his hands move up from where they were clasped. The pads of his fingers ghost over the bottom of your breasts, and you feel your entire face heat as he speaks into your skin. "Face forward."

You huff, but move to look back out the window. Your eyes try to focus on the garden when you feel his thumbs graze your nipples, before his large hands begin palming gently. The cool metal of his jewelry against your hardened nubs makes you shiver, and you squeeze your eyes shut, taking a shaky breath.

"Sensitive here?" He breathes against your skin, pinching your nipples gently as you let out a low, choked whine. His teeth tug at your earlobe, making you jolt before you hear him speak again. "Eyes open, angel." "You're horrible." You mutter, feeling his lips curve against the shell of your ear. "I can stop." "No! Don't, please." Your head hangs a bit, burning in humiliation as a soft chuckle sounds behind you. It seems you don't know how to shut your mouth, because the words tumble out before you can stop them.

"Please touch me." "How can I deny you when you're so polite?" He's mocking you, and you feel the warmth of his right hand leave your chest, ghosting down your torso. "Where, angel? Here?" His hand rests on your stomach, making you shake your head frantically, taking his wrist in your hand and guiding him lower.

"Here." You feel almost embarrassed as you feel him rest his forehead against your shoulder, before his fingers slowly glide over your center, his middle landing a teasing tap to your clit. You jerk slightly, making him laugh behind you before he moves further, dragging his fingertips through your wet folds with ease. You feel frustration grow slightly in your belly as he teases you, before he removes his hand completely.

You scoff, about to complain when you see him hold his hand up to the light. His fingers are slick with your arousal, strings of it connecting his knuckles as he separates them.

"Would you look at that?" His tone is one full of mischief, before he brings his hand closer to your face. "Open." His forefinger taps your lip, and you instinctively stick your tongue out, sliding it between his fingers without a word. Your eyes flutter closed as you taste yourself on his skin, the mix something invigorating, your need to be touched by him only fueled by the heat of his eyes on your face.

"Dirty little thing, aren't you?" He murmurs as you run your tongue over one of his rings, before you kiss the metal. "I'll be whatever you want me to be." He doesn't respond, instead choosing to push you slightly against the windowsill, trailing his lips down your back. You lean forward, anticipation brewing in your belly when you feel him kneel behind you, before feeling his teeth sink lightly into your ass. You can't hold your groan in, or hide the way your hips push back. He lets go of the bitten flesh, opting to lick at the marks with a sigh. "So pretty when you're needy." His lips press to your skin in peppered kisses, before he gently spreads your legs a bit more. You oblige, leaning on your forearms across the windowsill and holding the outside edge. His hands circle your upper thighs, and he squeezes them gently as he presses a kiss to your clit. You sigh, trying not to push against him as his tongue darts out, slowly dragging through your folds. He gathers your arousal messily, pulling soft whines from your throat when he finally wraps his pouty lips around your clit, sucking lightly. Your head hangs low as sounds slip from your mouth, your fingertips turning white from how hard you're gripping the windowsill when he begins to shallowly thrust his tongue into your hole, his hand moving from your thigh to thumb at your clit.

A whimper of profanities jumble from your lips, grinding your hips against his face and hand as your thighs begin to tremble. Your knees buck a bit, Seungkwan's arms reflexively moving to wrap around your waist as he buries his tongue deeper into your cunt. He groans into you, arms tightening around you as your hips continue to push back onto him. He grunts, pushing you away from his tongue entirely.

"You know, you're not very nice." He begins, making you groan. "I'm–" You're cut off by the wet sound of his fingers teasing your entrance carefully. You feel his teeth sink into the flesh of your ass again, your eyes fluttering shut as he slowly slides his fingers inside you, a low groan from your throat as he speaks. 

"You're what? A brat? A pain in my ass? Sorry, for both of those things, maybe?"

You huff at his words, "I'm sorry." He hums into your skin, his eyes trained on the way your gummy walls swallow his fingers with ease, curling them as you squirm. "Sorry for what?"

His fingers brush the spongy spot, making you jolt with a high-pitched moan. "Sorry for what, angel?" He coos, carefully keeping his slow pace as he stands, lips pressed to the skin of your neck and shoulders. 

"E-Everything." You sigh, your forehead pressed against your forearm, clenching around his fingers as he bullies them into you. "Everything, she says. What's this everything, hm?" He kisses your shoulder gently, peering over your shoulder to see your eyes screwed shut. Smiling to himself, he stills his movements, hearing you groan and peel your eyes open. "What are you sorry for?" You breathe out shakily, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as he slowly starts again. "I-I'm sorry for being a brat." "Oh, are you?" He nods, watching your hips push against his hand with a smirk. "Are you sorry for being a pain in my ass, too?" "No." You blurt, shaking your head as he snorts. "At least you're honest." "I keep you on your toes, you can't punish me f-for that." Your voice is no higher than a whisper as he moves his free hand to your face, carefully swiping away the stray hair sticking to your skin. "For the record, I don't hate you." You shake your head, eyes clouded with lust as you peer at him. "You do, though." 

He doesn't reply, opting to move his hand, now rubbing soft circles into your clit. Your legs tremble slightly at the added stimulation, whines from your throat as he begins to speak. "I don't. How could I?" He knows you'll probably forget this later, so why hold back? He presses his lips to your neck, peppering kisses there as he feels your pussy start to clamp around his fingers. 

"How could I, Y/N? I think about you all the time, you know? Fuck, you're so pretty." His teeth nip at the skin, and he feels you struggle to hold yourself up as your orgasm approaches. "Could never hate you, gorgeous. So good for me, right? Just for me." You shudder as the words hit your ears, and Seungkwan takes this as an incentive to keep going. "Wouldn't be the end of the world, would it? My pretty angel, all mine? Hm?" 

Your bitten lips part in a silent sob as you nod, your orgasm coating his fingers as your head hangs low. Seungkwan's eyes close as he presses his lips to your warm skin, unintelligible whispers slipping as he carefully withdraws his hand from between your legs. You remain silent as he slips away, before feeling a warm towel between your thighs.

"Take a bath. I'll make breakfast…or lunch, I guess now." He murmurs, tossing the towel aside and gently pulling your bruised elbows from the windowsill. You nod silently as he plants a soft kiss to your temple, before quietly guiding you to the bathroom. You feel your cheeks flush as his hand brushes your hip, pulling you close when you stumble. "Sorry." You mutter, but he only shakes his head as he pushes the bathroom door open, the sun now shining through the open window as he reaches for the faucet. He turns it on, running his fingers under the water until he deems it warm enough to help you climb into the tub.

"Any particular scent?" He asks as you settle into the cold tub, and you shake your head silently. No words are exchanged as he picks out his scent, the basil leaf in the jar mocking you as he slides it onto the rim of the tub. "Call me if you need anything, alright?" Nodding, you press your lips into a thin line as he carefully swipes your hair out of your eyes. His own are conflicted, but he nods curtly and takes his leave. 

You sigh shakily, your fingers reaching for your tense thighs as you think about his words. He'd come across the past few days as someone who didn't feel the need to prove anything to you – you were a human, someone who was virtually just a speck of dust in his universe.

Your eyes burn lightly, the tears of shame slipping down your cheeks as you groan inwardly. You certainly hadn't expected him to show you any of his feelings that way, but you weren't mad at all. You just felt…a pit of despair settle into your stomach.

Feeling like Seungkwan was out of your reach…that gap should be bridged now, right? He showed you his desire, he spoke about it. So why does he feel so much further away now?

SEVEN.

The next week and a half were the most mind-boggling thing you think you've ever experienced.

The two of you did not speak of the prior events – opting to both drown them out and keep repeating the same mistakes by enticing each other. If he wasn't waking you up with his tongue circling your clit, he was grinding his clothed cock against you in the kitchen and telling you how badly you got on his nerves. If you chose to run your mouth, he'd put it to better use – whether that meant he shoved a piece of bread into it or his cock was up for whatever the stars aligned with that day.

The past two days had been touch-free; the god was bent over his desk as you got ready to leave the temple. He'd promised you a visit to the market for new shoes as well as yarn for your loom, but he was everything but ready. He didn't move as he heard you standing in the doorway of his bedroom, your wine red skirt low on your hips as you leaned on the frame.

"Seungkwan?"

"Mmh?" He hummed, not looking up as he flipped a pen through his fingers. He heard you sigh, walking up to his desk and plucking it from his fingers. "You said we'd leave by noon. It's past that." "I did say that." He nods, reaching for his pen as you hold it out of reach. "Seungkwan."

He sighs, before finally looking up at you. His eyes widen slightly, and you look at him expectantly as he stares in silence. "Are you having a stroke?" "What?" He blinks, before shaking his head. You snort, before setting the pen on the desk. "Are you having a stroke? You've been odd all day."

Has he? He thinks back – bath, breakfast, a bit of time in the garden with you while he tried to teach you how to prune the marigolds…emphasis on tried.

"No. I'm fine. You look…nice. Ready?" He clears his throat, watching as you carefully slip your hair over your shoulder. You look exactly the same as you have since you arrived, but…something feels different. You feel different.

Could explain the absolute heat in his chest when he woke up to your face these past few days. And why he couldn't bear to look at you any longer than a simple conversation, he notes, as his eyes divert back to the philosophy book on his desk.

"Well…come on? I'm hungry and the walk is long." You smile, before turning on your heel. Seungkwan takes a deep breath, before standing and trailing after you. Neither of you stop to gather any bites for the road, but he can't unglue his eyes from the soft swing of your hips. 

Get it together. He shakes it off, opting to look away as you trek down the steps of the temple. "We can get new shoes for you today, I know I said we'd touch base on that." "We did!" You stretch in the afternoon sun, the light hitting your supple skin perfectly. Skin he longs to run his fingers down, sink his teeth into, kiss raw–

"Do you think they'll have yarn like my father's?" You ask, waiting for him to catch up to you. You link your arms once he does, ignoring the way he stiffens slightly as you slip your fingers in his. "I really liked the dyed yarns we'd get from Olympus. Lydia was always very barren for wool and such." He listens to you talk about your father for a while, as he subconsciously guides the two of you through the two-hour walk to the market. Why hasn't he gotten a horse? Why is he making you walk two hours, when you could be rambling about your memories upon a noble steed? He makes it a mental note as the twinkling lights of the market come into view. You stop talking and gasp lightly, your fingers squeezing his as you look over the treetops to the gaggle of tents and life. You smile inwardly, excitedly pulling him closer as you walk quickly. His cheeks burn as you finally reach the entrance of the market, a few bystanders looking at you as your eyes widen.

"Wow. It's beautiful here." You murmur, your eyes scanning the glittering of gold jewelry at the green tent he'd bought your necklace at. He lets you pull him carefully through the sweaty bodies, your eyes wide as you take in all the colors and glitters and the way you instinctively float over to a pair of slender shoulders hunched over a tent of yarns and wool.

The vendor looked up quickly, her smile bright as she saw you scour everything excitedly. You pulled your fingers out of Seungkwan's hand, leaving the god to stand a distance behind you as you ran the pads of your fingers across all the wool she had displayed. There were beautifully dyed yarns – from deep, earthy greens to royal purples, you carefully collected a few as the vendor showed you sample after sample.

"What do you think of this one?" Your voice brought Seungkwan back to Earth, his eyes landing on a soft, ocean blue yarn dyed lightly with indigo. You bounced the material in your palms, rattling off ideas of what you could weave with it when Seungkwan interrupts you.

"Get whatever you want, threadling. I've got it." Seungkwan pats his pouch, thankful he remembered to snag it off the desk before the two of you left the temple. In the glowing twinkle lights of the market, Seungkwan can almost make out a blush on your cheeks as you quickly whip around to look back at the vendor with a shy smile.

It wasn't long before you held a bag full of yarn, Seungkwan silently digging into his pouch for gold coins to give to the vendor. He took the bag gingerly, before you absently looped your arm with his as you bid the vendor a good evening. Your fingertips were cool against his, but he welcomed it as he squeezed them gently.

Seungkwan couldn't help but admire you under the twinkling lights and low sun. Your skin glowed slightly, the bruise on your shoulder from Jeonghan's visit now yellow with time. Your white top wrapped tightly across your chest, worn sandals guiding you through the people who began to gather around the jewelry tents.

His chest feels tight at the idea of falling in love with you under this romanticized perspective.

"Did you ever come here with your father?" Seungkwan asks softly, and you frown slightly, shaking your head. "My father was much too old to make the journey here. Our markets were further south, but it was mostly fish and fruit. I often went alone to gather our weekly rations. My mother…she was good friends with Taeyeon. I'm sure you know her, right? The goddess of harvest?" Seungkwan nods, "I do. She ventures into these parts every so often."

Smiling, you slow down and lean your head on his shoulder as you walk through the dusty market. Your gaze falls upon tasty treats and wide-eyed children holding sugared apples, and you find yourself leading Seungkwan over. "Are you hungry?" "I'm alright. Would you like something?" Seungkwan shifts in your hold, watching the vendor carefully peel an orange off its pith. You nod, pointing at the scrawled menu. "Have you ever had candied orange peel?" "Have you?" He snorts, looking at the jarred delicacy. He watched as your hands ghosted over a custard sitting on a bed of ice, before the vendor stood quickly, orange in hand as she pushed her partner away from the boiling sugar above the fire. "No, but I've also never really had desserts. My father was very strict about sweet things at night." Seungkwan nods as he watches the vendor shakily shove the slices onto a wooden skewer, before carefully coating them in the hot sugar. His fingers squeeze yours as she dips them into a bucket of ice water, the sizzle of the sugar making the water pop over the edge. She holds it up and out to you, a pointed look in her eyes.

"Take it." Seungkwan encourages, and you shyly reach out for it. She gives you a napkin, before mumbling to wait a bit to eat it. Seungkwan offers her money, but she shakes her head. "I haven't seen a pair of lovers in a while, just enjoy it." Seungkwan hates the way his entire body heats at the idea of being your lover, but you're not faring much better – your smile is shy as you nod, letting your hair fall into your eyes as you look away. The tips of your ears are flushed as you ask her for a jar of the candied peels, which she simply shoves into your hand. "On the house. Or on the tent, I guess." You pull Seungkwan away with yet another thank you from your lips, when Seungkwan's eyes catch the leathersmith beginning to set up shop. "Wait, you need new shoes. Let's go this way." You oblige, allowing the god to tug you carefully. The leathersmith was an older man who had his son along as an apprentice, aiming to have the younger man take over the shop once he passed on. Seungkwan had quite the hearty relationship with the older gentleman, but often found a small taste of disdain in his mouth after speaking to his son. He was young and a bit snobby, ungrateful – a few of the traits Seungkwan deemed unattractive.

"Oh, Seungkwan! I haven't seen you in quite a while. How are you? And who is this beautiful young woman? I'm Mr. Kim." The leathersmith took his hat off quickly, offering his hand for you to shake. You did so cheerily, as the older man smiled at you.

"I'm Y/N. I'm a…pupil of Seungkwan's." You say with a bit of hesitance, but Seungkwan's fingers squeeze yours in confirmation. You were, after all…just a pupil. Someone he's not supposed to have feelings for, he reminds himself.

Mr. Kim quickly gestures to his son, who is setting up the machinery. His hands are coated in oil from it, and Seungkwan feels his stomach turn at the idea of his fingers smearing it over your skin when they measure you. He'll have to wash your feet for you when you arrive home–

No? He won't?

"This is my son, you remember him, right? Jisung, say hello." The son glances up with a look of discernment, before Seungkwan notices his eyes land on you. You've begun to nibble onto the candied orange slices, licking your lips of bits of sugar. Seungwan instinctively pulls you closer, before the leathersmith looks at the god as he speaks. "Yes, I do. How're you, Jisung? Taking well after your father, I assume?" The younger man barely acknowledges him, his eyes still on you as you glance around all the leather scraps. There are a few different patterns on the soles of pre-cut shoes, and Seungkwan feels you pull away to run your fingers through the intricate designs. Stars, small waves, dainty paisley. There is a pair with flowers that stop at the arch of the shoe, and you hold it up.

"These?" Your eyes are a little brighter as you hold the candied oranges in your teeth, tracing the pattern with your bruised fingertips. Seungkwan smiles, starting to speak when Jisung cuts him off. "You have to get fitted and come back, we can't just give you pre-made soles." Seungkwan feels his lips tug down as Jisung takes the sole from you, and you nod carefully. "You could be nicer about it, you know. I'm sure your father wouldn't appreciate you treating his prospective clients with this attitude." Mr. Kim's eyes widen as his son scoffs, a quick flush overtaking his cheeks and ears as Jisung tosses the pre-made soles back into the bucket. He clears his throat as you turn away from Jisung with a frown full of disdain, before speaking up. "I assume you are here for shoes, right? What soles did you want?"

You shake your head and shrug. "Whatever you can make for me, I'll take it. I would hate to cause you any trouble, Mr. Kim."

It's clearly a jab at his son, but if he notices, he says nothing. The older gentleman rounds the chair he's had set up and fishes through the bucket for the soles you'd had in your hand. "These, right? They're marigolds." He taps the sole with his knuckle, before patting the chair with his hand.

"Sit, I'll fit them for you. They're pre-made for a reason, emergencies. Your straps are about to fall apart, dear." He grimaces at your sandals, and you feel a soft blush coat your cheeks. "Well, they've been through a lot with me." Seungkwan watches as you carefully take Mr. Kim's hand to sit atop the lifted chair, and as he carefully takes your sandals off. Your feet are slightly swollen from the walk to the market, and he nearly misses the way Jisung takes Mr. Kim's spot in front of you. He spreads his thighs over the edge of the stool, his hand grabbing your ankle out of the stirrup and examining your foot. He grimaces as he runs his fingers over the carmine-covered toenails, carefully tugging on your toes to make your joints pop.

It all felt too intimate for Seungkwan's taste, but he tongues his cheek as Mr. Kim starts digging through his bucket of leather straps.

"Do you want braided straps? I have a few of those, I think they'd suit you." Mr. Kim speaks as Jisung runs a wet sponge down the arch of your foot, making Seungkwan grimace inwardly. Your eyes flutter closed at the cool water dripping along your skin, Jisung's hands carefully massaging the sore arch. You don't respond, so Seungkwan nods in Mr. Kim's direction with a forced smile.

"Feel good?" Jisung's voice breaks through the air, and Seungkwan doesn't like the way his stomach tightens as your nose scrunches, his thumb digging into the heel of your foot. "Feels nice, yeah. We walked the entire way here." "Did you, now?" Jisung glances over his shoulder, and it's as if the shared horse for the father-son duo picks up on his commentary, whinnying behind the tent. Seungkwan frowns, "She asked to." "So you just do whatever she wants?" Jisung asks lowly, and Mr. Kim holds up a matching pair of fishtailed straps. "Aha!" Jisung gives Seungkwan a sour look as he carefully wipes your foot of excess water and dirt, leaving the god to cross his arms over his chest while holding your bag of yarn. You're trying to focus on the candied oranges in your hand, carefully biting at the sweet flesh when Jisung swipes the wet sponge across your other foot, holding it up to his face as he examines your toes. "Walk barefoot a lot?" "Well–" "Pretty girls like you shouldn't be doing that." He tugs at your toes, popping the joints in this foot as well before squeezing gently. "What kind of a god are you, letting her walk around in old shoes? Don't you care?"

Your eyes are wide as he speaks directly to Seungkwan, who only scowls. "Isn't it inappropriate to compliment your clients? Just do what you're here to do, I can take care of her on my own." "Seems like you can't, if she's walking here and wearing old shoes." Jisung barks back, and you shift uncomfortably. Seungkwan can tell you're starting to pick up on his disdain for the younger man, who only digs his fingers into the flesh of your calf. Seungkwan doesn't respond, opting to move over to Mr. Kim, who is hunched over his workbench. He's carefully piercing the leather with a thick needle, his fingers covered in makeshift thimbles as he holds the leather in shaky hands. Seungkwan doesn't let your conversation with Jisung leave his mind as he eavesdrops, Jisung asking you where you're from and if you're single. You just answer with a disinterested tone, something that makes Seungkwan smile inwardly as Mr. Kim holds the shoe up. 

"Think they'll fit?" He asks, needle tucked between his lips as Seungkwan examines it, nodding carefully. "If they're a little big it's fine too, she's on her feet a lot." No you weren't. You hadn't done anything in the temple but lay in his bed with him and prune flowers. He stopped making you step into the kitchen, last week allowing you to simply exist within the temple and the gardens. You enjoyed dipping your feet into the pond, and grabbing the frogs in your palms as they croaked quietly.

There hadn't been a single drop of rain since he had you against the windowsill in his bedroom. Almost as though Seungcheol was listening, and eerily enough, maybe even watching. 

Seungkwan took the time to tend the garden when he wasn't riling you up in whatever form he could. He hated that he was starting to enjoy the way you poked at him, wanting to elicit a reaction out of him, yearning for the way his hands would grip you firmly if he was pushing you against any surface he could manage.

Yet, your lips still have yet to graze in the way you beg for constantly. He'll kiss you anywhere you ask, anywhere you want – but your lips remain untouched, bitten by your own teeth, glossed by your own spit and calling his name out wantonly. 

How he yearns to shut you up that way sometimes.

"How is it, having a new pupil? You haven't had one in a while." Mr. Kim asks as Seungkwan's eyes trailed the way Jisung's hands go up a little too high on your knee. You frown a bit, your lips pursed as you push it down. He apologizes swiftly, a twitch in his lip as you cross your legs at the ankle. You both continue the odd conversation, with Jisung questioning your attire. You answer that Seungkwan made it for you, and isn't it so pretty?

Jisung glances over his shoulder before scoffing out a yeah.

"It's fine. She's very smart and quick witted, and keeps me on my toes." Seungkwan nods, watching you and Jisung out of the corner of his eye. Jisung is now massaging your feet with a salve, likely one from the apothecary two tents down. It smells of eucalyptus, a scent Seungkwan noticed you avoided in the shampoo shelf – the citrus basil disappearing much faster. Your nose scrunched once more as he wrapped your feet in warm towels from a basket, before your eyes met Seungkwan's.

You blink at him, tilting your head towards Jisung before making a face of annoyance. He huffs out a small laugh, earning a smile from you as you return your attention to the younger man in front of you. You ask Jisung if he always does this for his customers, and he snorts in response as he tucks the towel corner under your ankle with a resounding no.

"She's very pretty, Seungkwan." Mr. Kim pipes up from his workbench, and Seungkwan's eyes dart to the older man. He's giving the god a pointed look, watching as Seungkwan shifts silently before letting out a sigh. "I'm not ready, Mr. Kim." "We never are, when the right one comes along." He murmurs, and he looks up to ensure you can't hear him before he proceeds. "What's stopping you? The fact that she's a human?" "Somewhat." He shrugs, opting to leave out the extensive story of your past – how he sent you to the Underworld within hours of meeting you, how you made him feel vulnerable in a way he hated. How you made him feel like putty with your hands, your mouth, your words of praise and reassurance as you trailed your lips anywhere he'd let you. 

He remembers telling you how greedy you were as he nipped at your neck three nights ago, your incessant whining for a kiss on the lips only making him slow the rut of his hips against your clothed core. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, mouthing at his jaw with whimpers from your throat as he palmed at your body beneath him. "So, so greedy. Can never just take what I give you, hm? Always want more."

"What else?" Mr. Kim asks, and Seungkwan rubs his neck lightly, a worried smile on his lips as he admits defeat. "I just know that it won't work. She's a mortal, it won't be good for either of us. One day, she'll be gone and I'll still be left here." "Isn't the purpose of life to find something that fulfills you?" Mr. Kim objects, raising his brows at the god before him. "If she makes you feel happy, and you feel fulfilled making her feel loved, cherished, whatever the case may be – shouldn't that be enough for you to take it and run like the wind? Love is something so fickle, something so hard to find yet so easy to ruin. Don't let your doubts ruin what you and Miss Y/N have. You yearn for her, Seungkwan." "I do not." He scoffs, glancing at you as Jisung removes the now cool towels, your eyes closed as he wipes away the salve that went unabsorbed. Mr. Kim only smiles in response as he hands Seungkwan the shoes, the leather warm against his fingertips. "Just think about it, Seungkwan. It can't do any harm." Except it can, he thinks.

Seungkwan is selfish. He'd always been that way – wanting only the best for himself, opting to choose the better routes, the better classes, the better books. Carefully selecting anyone and everyone he allowed into his hermit-like life, his secretive ways.

He only wanted the best, and he fears that if he doesn't figure himself out soon, you'll be the only best he sees slip through his fingers. He knows that you're good – he knows that your heart is so painfully fragile, wrapped in layers of hurt from losing your father and missing out on the last years of his life. He knows that you're trying so hard to keep up the same facade that he is – that you're stronger than you let on, that you're braver, that you're better.

He's only a god because Seungcheol said so, he's no different than you are.

He figured that a few nights ago, watching you sleep against his chest. Your cheek was squished against his shoulder, your lips glistening with a bit of drool. He wanted to kiss you so deeply then, his fingers carefully carding through your tangled hair and tugging at the necklace he'd given you. You'd stirred slightly, barely opening your eyes to peer up at him. He smiled silently, making you grunt softly before snuggling back into his skin.

It's odd, he realizes. How easily just a taste of you, just one moment of his walls being down, led from angry, bitter words to playful banter and dirty phrases whispered into sweaty skin. How in just a few days, you carefully removed layers from his guarded heart, desperately wanting to earn a spot in it. And…he just let you. He just let you call him pretty, he just let you kiss his worries away. He let you toe the line of the boundaries he'd set in place, your lips just barely hovering over his when he'd let you take the lead, your skirt bunched around your hips as you both relished in the wet sound of your cunt dragging against his bare thighs.

He just let you prove to him, over the course of a few nights, that you desired him…but deeper than anyone ever had. You cared nothing about his presence as a god, in fact, you challenged it – you poked and prodded, you pissed him off with your carefully chosen words and you mended him back together just as quickly. You jerked his emotions around, riling him up by touching him inappropriately for a pupil, but he gave in so fast. He loved it, he loved how you felt against him, he loved you.

And it pains him inside.

"Let me see the shoes." Jisung breaks Seungkwan out of his thoughts, and he reluctantly hands them over to the younger man. Seungkwan fishes in his pouch for money, placing fifteen gold coins in Mr. Kim's change cup. Ten more than the leathersmith often charged, but Seungkwan paid him no mind as he watched Jisung carefully slide the sandals over your feet. 

Too. Intimate.

He carefully wrapped the straps around your ankle, the pads of his fingers lingering before Seungkwan cleared his throat loudly. Your eyes dart to the god, who has a frown on his lips as he offers his hand for you to step off the chair. The sun was slightly lower now, meaning it would be time to start heading home soon. You take Seungkwan's hand gingerly, carefully stepping down as your other hand presses against his chest for extra support.

"How d'you feel, Miss?" Mr. Kim asks as you bounce on your toes, and you seem content as you give him a warm smile and a thumbs up. You seem happy with them, but Seungkwan doesn't miss the way your eyes trail to the worn sandals you'd previously donned. They held history, they'd taken you wherever you'd been and seen everything you had. Seungkwan understands as he gathers them in his hand carefully, holding them out to Mr. Kim. "Can you refresh these? Is that possible?" 

Your eyes grow wide before they're squished by the fat of your cheeks as you smile, now wrapping your arms around Seungkwan's as Mr. Kim nods eagerly. "Return within a fortnight, I'll have them as good as new." Seungkwan nods, before pouring a few more coins into the change cup and bidding his goodbye. Mr. Kim gives him yet another pointed look, before looking at you. His eyes speak volumes – volumes of kiss her, of hold her, of love her.

Seungkwan nods curtly, before spinning on his heel and pulling you away.

"It'll be chilly soon. Would you like to get a blanket for the walk back?" He asks quietly, and you nod eagerly. "Maybe also, something else to eat? The candied orange was good but…I'm not full yet." Seungkwan glances over at you, seeing a bit of sugar crystals gathered at the corners of your lips. He smiles to himself, wiping his thumb against the skin carefully. You look at him as he licks the sugar off the pad of his finger, an amused look in your eyes as you shake your head. "If you wanted some of it, you could've said so." Seungkwan only smiles to himself, holding you close as he pulls you behind a tent. Your eyes scan his face as he carefully moves your hair away from your face. "I'm sure you still have some left, right?" "I finished it. See?" You hold up the empty skewer, your eyes innocently scouring him as he feels his chest warm. He takes it out of your hand, tossing it into a tent's garbage bin. "But you can give me a taste anyhow, can't you?" Your eyes cast confusion until his lips ghost over yours. "Didn't like how he was touching you." He murmurs, just barely touching your skin. "M'sorry." You mumble back, nuzzling your nose against his. 

"Are you?" He asks, pulling away slightly. Your cheeks are ruddy with embarrassment under his hands, his thumbs carefully pinching the fat. Your hands rest on his chest as he carefully takes your jaw in his large hand, the cool metal of his rings against your warm skin making you jolt. "Didn't like it. Only want you to touch me like that." You admit softly, your hands bunching the fabric of his chiton under them. He smiles, "Only me?" "Only you." You nod, and he hums in response. His thumb moves to pull at your plump lower lip, and he sighs as he moves back. "Well, we should start heading back. We can make it back before sundown, and it won't be as chilly." You look disappointed as he pulls back, your hands still holding onto his chiton as he does so. Your lip is jutted out into a pout, "Come on, Seungkwan." He bites back a laugh, opting to act dumb as he turns back to you. "Come on, what, Y/N?" "Kiss me." You frown, tugging his shirt gently until he's lowered enough to touch your nose to his. He lets you pull at him, his hands snaking around your waist. "Hm? Not sure you've earned that, angel." "You're so mean." You pout, your lower lip brushing his. He nips at it quickly, tugging it between his teeth as your eyes shutter closed. "Mean? You think so?"

He doesn't let you reply, pressing his lips against yours gently. He feels you sigh into his mouth, your hands moving up to his neck, arms gingerly wrapping around his broad shoulders. His hands hold your hips, squeezing them softly as he pulls you closer to him. His tongue gently eases into your mouth, tasting the sweet tang of the orange against your teeth. Your fingers curl into the nape of his neck, licking into his mouth with precision, trying to hide your desperation as you claw at him. He pulls away carefully, his tongue swiping across his lips as your eyes open.

"Why'd you stop?" You whine, only prompting him to press one, two, three chaste kisses to your open mouth. "Because we're in public, and if you want more, we have to get home, angel." "You'll give me more?" "I'll give you whatever you want." He nods, his forehead touching yours. "Promise?" Your voice is small, but he smiles, pulling you into his chest. "I promise, angel."

The trip home was full of soft touches and his fingers pinching any skin he could manage. He pressed his lips against yours more than twice on the way there, the thick blanket he'd bought you draped carefully over your shoulders as he held your bag of yarn and candied orange peels. Your hand held a small bag of roasted chickpeas, the only other snack you bothered to pick out after Seungkwan kissed you. You suddenly weren't hungry for food, only the white-hot feeling of his lips against yours. You didn't talk as you walked home tiredly, only looked at the sky and at the straps of your new sandals.

"Let me run you a bath, angel." He offers as the temple comes into view, and you look up hesitantly. "Join me for it."

"Hmm. Maybe." He shrugs, his hand finding its way to the nape of your neck and carefully wrapping around it. It's comforting, the weight of his warmth against your skin as he pulls you closer to him. You allow it, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you reach the steps of the temple. The wind-down is easy. It's simple, he strips you of your clothing in his bedroom as he kisses you gently, his lips sweet against yours. Soft hums of approval as he felt your hands touch him as much as he'd allow, before guiding you down to the bathroom. He lets you tug off his chiton, his pants following as he holds you flush to him as he runs his fingers under the running water. 

And, he promptly joined you in the tub. Your back was nestled closely against his chest, his fingers wrapped around your hand and lips peppering kisses to your knuckles. Your hair had long been cleaned, his shampoo wafting off you as the warm suds surrounded your naked bodies. This…you'd read about this. Lovers, so close together. Lovers, holding each other dear, cherishing each other, worshiping each other.

Seungkwan's lips against your shoulders tear you from your thoughts, making you twist your head to peer at him. You wonder what's changed between the two of you. You know Seungkwan has kissed other mortals, done things he's done with you with other mortals. Why are you any different? Why is the taste of you any different, anything more than what he's had before?

And most of all, why does it weigh on you? Who cares about the other girls, as long as you get the guy?

You huff inwardly, toying with the suds at the edge of the tub.

"Closed mouths don't get fed, Y/N." His voice rings in your ears, the low rumble startling you slightly. He gives you a pointed look, his eyes sharp as he scans your features. "Sorry. Just thinking." "About?" He questions, his arms moving to wrap around your waist beneath the water. You shake your head lightly, leaning against his clavicle with a sigh. "Just everything and nothing, all at once." He doesn't press the issue. If he senses something is wrong, he says nothing. He instead runs his hands up your torso, pads of his fingers tickling your skin. "I really enjoyed spending time with you, today." He admits softly. You feel your cheeks heat as you look back at him again.

"Really?" "Really. I know we were late, we can go back another time and go as early as you'd like." He nods, and you smile widely as you nod in excitement. He smiles, his thumb moving to stroke your cheeks gently. "Let me take you to bed, yeah? It's late, we have a lot to do tomorrow." "You always say that, then you leave me wrapped in the duvet all morning and hand-feed me breakfast." You roll your eyes, making Seungkwan snort. "I can make life a lot harder, if you'd like." 

"No, don't do that." You feign a pout as you twist in his hold, opting to straddle his lap under the warm water. He looks up at you, his hands resting on your upper thighs. "Tread lightly, angel." "I'm not doing anything." You smile down at him, opting to run your hands through his damp hair. He tongues his cheek. "You're always up to no good." "Just miss you." You murmur, pressing your forehead against his. He hums in response, pressing yet another chaste kiss to the corner of your lips. "Let me take you to bed." He repeats, voice raspier than before. You nod, before planting your lips against his without second thought. He allows it, kissing you back slowly as his arms wrap around your waist. 

"Come on." Once more, the night is smooth. You notice a few clouds gathering in the distance as Seungkwan wraps you carefully in a towel, his hands gently massaging your shoulders as the two of you trek to his bedroom. You hadn't slept in your own since that one night, with Seungkwan guiding you himself so as to not lose you in the dark.

You hated the way your stomach turned as you reached the bedroom and the clouds seemed closer, hoping it meant nothing. Hoping that you'd get to have this soft side of Seungkwan for longer, hoping that Seungcheol's mind games were just his own problems seeping through in the form of rolling thunder and bright lightning.

"Smells like rain." Seungkwan murmured as he dried your hair carefully with another towel, your eyes closed as you inhaled deeply. "It does." Neither of you say anything else as you close the window tightly, placing towels on the ground should the forthcoming rain leak through. You slide under the covers as Seungkwan lights a lamp on his desk, burning slowly before he slides in next to you. He holds you close this time, instead of leaving you at arm's length.

"Goodnight, angel." "Goodnight, Seungkwan."

You try to ignore the clap of thunder in the sky as you snuggle into his chest, your cheek once more squished against his shoulder as he presses a soft kiss to your hairline. His own heart is thundering against his chest, and you can only hope it's because he fears the same thing you do.

Fighting once the night has passed, and the rain continues to pelt the wet Earth – and your blooming relationship alongside it.

EIGHT.

It has been six days since you and Seungkwan have been intimate at all, and there has been endless rain. He hasn't spoken much to you as it is, instead finding his way outside or busying himself in his bedroom – with his door closed. Your cheeks burn in humiliation when he closes the door behind him before bed, leaving you to burn the lamps in your bedroom through all the oil they've got while you curl yourself against the sheets. He doesn't spare you these nights, leaving you to feel your eyes heavy in the mornings, often retreating back during the bright afternoons to nap.

He feels relieved when you're not around.

Your lingering touches earn his hand pushing you away, the confusion in your eyes remaining unanswered as he pushes past you in the mornings. He won't look at you, he won't kiss you, he won't speak unless you speak first. He'll slide breakfast onto your nightstand and disappear for hours once you've awoken, his shoulders hidden behind bushes of flowers and tall trees in his garden. He silently washes the dishes, bakes countless focaccia loaves, pours your wine and runs your bath water.

He didn't join you again. You bit your tongue, hoping maybe it was just some odd rut of his. He seemed lost in thought as he rearranged flowers in clay pots left behind by former pupils as gifts, but you didn't miss the way he stiffened as he heard you behind him.

"Everything okay, Seungkwan?" You questioned softly, a gentle look on your face as you peered over his shoulder. He nods quickly, clearing his throat. "Yes. Lunch is soon, so why don't you spend some time in the bedroom? Or outside? I'll–" "Come outside with me." You suggest, before scanning his posture. "You've seemed really out of it for the last few days. It's starting to worry me." "Don't worry about me. I'm just in my head about things, I've got a lot to do." He lies like a dog, and you frown inwardly before stepping forward to stand next to him. "Come with me, Seungkwan." I miss you, lingers on your tongue, but he sighs frustratedly before his hands find your bare shoulders, turning you quickly and pushing you towards the garden doors. You try not to melt into the heat of his fingers, instead shaking them off quickly as you reach the beginning of the garden. The oak trees lining the garden tower over you, and you frown as the sky turns slightly grey at your presence. The clouds begin to roll in gently, covering the sunlight as you sigh.

"Are you upset with me?" You blurt, turning to face a rather unconfident Seungkwan. His eyes widen as he shakes his head. "Not at all. Come, we can prune the tulips–" "Seungkwan, be honest with me. I don't like this." Your confession makes his eyes dart away from your face, his hands folding in front of him as he loses purpose for them. He doesn't respond, instead tilting his head in the direction of the tulips. You tongue your cheek, before you step closer to him. His breath hitches in his throat, and you don't think you'd ever seen him look this unsteady.

"What is going on?" You murmur, your hands carefully rising to hold his face. He frowns, quickly capturing your wrists as your palms cover his cheeks. "Nothing is going on, Y/N." "Where have you gone?" Your whisper is slightly broken, your eyes full of concern for the equally ruined god in front of you. His eyes tear away from yours, nibbling his lip as you raise onto your tiptoes, moving him to face you. "I thought we were making progress here." "I don't need you to make progress in anything." He says, almost too quickly for you to believe him. Definitely too quickly for you to believe him, "You don't mean that." "I do. I do mean it, Y/N. Whatever was happening here, it can't continue. I know it must've been confusing, trust me–" You frown, cutting him off abruptly. "How can I? How can I trust you, when you've done all of this? You give me everything you've got, expressing nothing short of desire for me. You touch me in ways I haven't been since my first life, even by those I've slept with in the past. You kiss me like it means something and then you abandon me, you make me sleep alone like a dog and you don't speak to me. What twisted game are you playing? Is this the just and fair god you claim to be?"

Your anger bounces right off him, his cheeks flaming red as he sighs. 

"Y/N, this is a dangerous game. It's got nothing to do with you, or how I could or could not feel about you." His hands take yours off his face, holding your wrists tightly as if he needs them to ground him. Your eyes meet as your back hits the oak tree marking the end of the marigolds – you can see him holding back feelings of desire, and you're sure yours scream the same as the words slip from your lips.

"Then kiss me like you mean it." He groans, his grip on your wrists loosening as he pulls away. "You know I can't do that, Y/N. It's not right."

"Why? Because I'm some mortal? Because I'll never satisfy you?" You wrestle your wrists out of his grasp, crossing your arms defiantly across your chest. "Y/N–"

"Why won't you let me show you that you're just like me? Because you want to keep up this façade that you're perfect? Huh? Is that it?" You push his chest lightly, watching as the sky rolls with dark clouds in the distance and water begins to pelt the two of you. "Why won't you let me in?"

"Because." His jaw is tight as he turns away, and you grab his arm so he doesn't walk away from you, his shoulders tensing at your touch. "Because what, Seungkwan? Aren't you always spewing that you're a just and fair god? Aren't you always telling me that it's your job to guide? Well, I need some guidance here! Give me something to follow! Let me help you!" He huffs inwardly, turning back sharply and pulling you to him by your shirt, his other hand pushing your now wet hair out of your face. His eyes trail your face, and he speaks quietly.

"I can't, because you won't be here someday. I'll be left to yearn for you for the rest of my miserable eternity and I can't do that to myself. I could beg and plead with anybody who'll listen to let me have you forever, but I'd be disrupting the natural order of life. I can't kiss you, now or ever again, because you'll suffer. And I think you've had enough suffering for yet another lifetime."

Your brows furrow as you lean in closer to him, feeling his fingers quickly card through your hair and pull you back, your lips just missing his. Your eyes close at the tug, the way you know his rings will snag and you'll like it. 

"You can't tell me when I've had enough." You murmur, and he folds.

His lips slot against yours in a fiery kiss, pushing you against the tree and pulling a whimper from your throat as his teeth nip at your lips. You try to keep up, his hands choosing to roam your body, grabbing at any exposed skin they can before finding the slit of your skirt. His fingers circle your thighs carefully, bearing your weight against the rough trunk of the tree and wrapping your legs around his waist. 

"This is hard for me, too." He pulls away, eyes closed as he rests his forehead against yours. "It doesn't have to be. Just let me in, I can help you." You plead with him, his shaky breath against your lips.

"I can't." His eyes close, his fingers tight around your thighs as your red skirt bunches higher. Your hands reach for his face again, thumbs carefully rubbing his cheeks as his eyes open to stare into yours. "Just trust me, Seungkwan." "It's not right, Y/N." He shakes his head, only for your words to come out with a bite. "You're selfish."

He huffs, nodding. "So what? I am, I am selfish. I can't imagine a fucking life without you tugging on my sleeve, is that what you want to hear? That I'd rather die an honest death than let you help me figure out something I should know on my own? I'm a god, for fuck's sake. I don't need your help, now or ever!"

"Then what the fuck are we doing? Why can't you just mentor me the way you were supposed to, huh? Why did you…" You trail off as you push him away from you, your lips pursed tightly as you fight off tears. Things are happening way too fast – but they started fast, anyway. Impatience usually makes things crumble like sand at your fingertips.

"Just…leave me alone. You don't need me, so I don't need you." You pinch the bridge of your nose, before pushing your wet hair off your face. "Don't walk away from me, we're not done here." His hand shoots out to wrap around your arm, his cool rings digging into your skin as you twist away from him. "Aren't we? You hurt me, Seungkwan. You're actively hurting me, by pushing me away. You don't care about anyone except yourself, because if you did, you would've never kissed me in the first place. You would've told Jeonghan no when he sent me here, you wouldn't have taken me in. You…you're selfish. You're selfish and you're a liar. And I hate that. I hate you!" You spit, angry tears streaming down your cheeks as you turn away from him.

"I'm not like you, Seungkwan. I can't just hide how I feel, not when I wear my heart on my sleeve. You can pretend all you'd like, fake it until you make it, do whatever you please." You mumble to yourself, sniffling deeply before meeting his eyes. Eyes that have glossed over with tears he won't dare let slip, but you only sigh.

"I deserve better than this." Your lip quivers as you push past him, the rain quickly drenching your top. You shiver as you walk away, wrapping your arms around yourself to create your own warmth as you hear a roll of thunder over your head. "I fucking heard you, Seungcheol. I got it." You mutter inwardly, feeling relief as the rain stops pelting your shoulders the moment you duck into the temple.

You silently walk to the bathroom, turning the faucet on for warm water to run out as you strip off your wet clothing. Your fingers fumble with the pins, holding them between your lips as you ease yourself into the filling tub, not bothering to grab for soap. You sigh as the warmth engulfs your limbs, shivering as you sink further.

Who were you kidding, really? You knew things between a god and a mortal weren't made to last. He'd said it, you'd agreed to it, you even admitted you'd rather die than become a goddess to live alongside a god who deems himself better than you. 

But, it doesn't mean you don't know that Seungkwan is far greater than you'd be, potentially ever. He held a power you'd never know anything about, this weight on his shoulders that he admitted himself to. You knew of gods who didn't care for their particular talents, gods who boasted nothing of their importance and gods who simply lacked interest in who or what they represented. You knew of gods who loved endlessly and deeply – Wonwoo and Mingyu. You knew of gods who admitted their wrongdoings – Jeonghan, Woozi, and Vernon.

You knew of gods who willingly did wrong, who willingly admitted it, who still searched and aimed for better – Seungcheol. If the god of the sky could openly spew his own faults, if the god of the sky could do as he pleases without so much as a second thought, why can't Seungkwan? Why can't you be the reason behind his loss of control, why can't he see you as something more than a mortal he's got to hold together? You're not broken, you're not ruined by anything but the way his skin feels against yours, his lips slotted perfectly into yours, him showing you that he wants nothing more but to melt into you and never stop being one.

So why suddenly switch up his act? Why stop kissing you when he's been all over you for longer than he hasn't, why pretend you're not someone he desires to hold near and dear to his heart when you both know that you were slowly, surely, chipping away at him? Because he'd be admitting imperfection.

And god forbid Boo Seungkwan admit he's not perfect.

You felt a sob in your throat, but pushed it down as you thumbed at the necklace he'd given you. Emerald, for growth. Scoffing to yourself, you peel it off, leaving it to dangle from the faucet handle as you turn away from it. The rain has stopped now, the sound of nature being overtaken by a few birds chirping in the trees and the occasional frog croaking beneath the windowsill.

The next three days were quieter than ever. 

You were locked in your bedroom, ignoring any of Seungkwan's attempts to speak to you. You let breakfast go uneaten, only sneaking out of your room when you'd see him hunched over in the garden from your window. You hid yourself away, opting to weave your fingers numb with the new yarn you hadn't used since you brought it home. 

He hadn't been home since last night, either. You didn't question anything, didn't care to. If he'd cared for you to know, he would have told you. After all, he is a just and fair god, is he not?

It's laughable.

All you could do was weave depictions of what you and Seungkwan could have been, or what you were. A large owl wearing an olive branch, a single spider perched carefully on the predator's shoulder. Unassuming, maybe hoping for the best despite expecting the worst from the bird. A twist of the neck, a bite off the head – and you'd be dead. "Would it be a painful death, at hands so soft?" You murmur to yourself, untangling the yarn from your fingers. The ocean blue was your background, the owl beige and brown with eyes of gold, the spider black with a single patch of gold on its chest. Representing what? Growth? A bruise of pain? A change of heart? You roll your shoulders back carefully, the soreness digging deep into your left cuff as you stretch. Sighing, you thread your fingers through the loom once more, your tired eyes drooping as you gingerly pull the yarn through. You felt alone, and yes, lonely alongside it all. You hadn't expected the god to weigh so heavily on you. You reminded yourself he chose that, though – he told you that he didn't need you. He doesn't need you to teach him anything. He doesn't need you at all.

Scoffing to yourself, you hear the creek of the window shutters behind you. You don't look over, only hearing the oh-so-familiar click of Jeonghan's boots on the marble tile. "Y/N." "Tsk, don't remind me that I've been a bad girl this time. Just tell me how I fucked up, yeah?" You respond with practised ease, not bothering to acknowledge him further. Jeonghan sighs, squatting next to your bent form in front of the loom. His fingers ghost over your hunched back, before they touch your skin. His fingertips are nothing like Seungkwan's – ice cold, even a bit callused. You move away.

"You never listen, do you?" He clicks his tongue, and you nibble at your lip without response. Shrugging, you try to act nonchalant when you feel his cold fingers swipe at your cheeks carefully. You look at him with a sigh, earning a pitiful look. "Don't pity me, Jeonghan." "I don't. I think you're an idiot, but I'd never pity you. You don't deserve that." He shrugs, before sighing. "Nice tapestry." "Thanks." You look at your fingers, when Jeonghan's hand moves to rest on your shoulder. "How's the shoulder doing? Still gets painful after you bury yourself in work?" He's referring to your constant whining of shoulder pain from the first time he met you. Something must've happened when you landed, because you'd been groaning about the pain for a few hours until he shoved you in front of a loom and asked you to weave it out – his way of asking you to shut the hell up. You'd woven something for him before he let you leave the Underworld, but like always – lost yourself in the task. You wove beautiful tales of fruit and love, and the tapestry hung proudly behind Jeonghan's throne. You hadn't seen it move since the second time you'd been dropped in.

"It's fine. Haven't had a chance to make myself a salve, Seungkwan won't let me fucking be. He's been gone for a night, though, so I might sneak out if he's not in upon nightfall." You mutter, thrumming your fingertips against the taut yarn. Jeonghan smiles, "Maybe you should let him make you the salve, Y/N. Let him take care of you." "I'd rather die than take his help." You scowl, crossing your arms with a wince of pain. Jeonghan rolls his eyes, resting his forehead against your bicep. "Darling, don't you think you're being too hard on him? You haven't spoken in three days." "He chose that. He basically told me I was just a game to him. How the fuck do you know that, anyway?" You move away from his touch again, only for the god's maroon eyes to swirl something dark. "Are we forgetting I assigned you here? I know everything that happens – every branch that snaps, every frog that croaks, every pretty little moan from that throat of yours. I see it all." "Creep." You stick your tongue out at him, making him stifle a grin. "He talks about you a lot when you're not in earshot. Mostly to himself, but you know." Jeonghan gestures to the air, insinuating he sees all, hears all. Every thought Seungkwan's had of you outside of his own head, Jeonghan knows about.

Meaning Seungcheol also probably knows about it.

You shrug again. "I don't care. He said what he said in front of me, and that negates anything he could've ever said behind my back. He kissed me, Jeonghan." 

"Didn't you beg him to?" He taunts, pinching your thigh playfully. You tongue your cheek, an embarrassed blush coating your skin as you nod. "I did…but I guess I got ahead of myself. No…god would ever fall in love with a mortal. Not the way a mortal would a god." Jeonghan's eyes widen at your words, taking your hands in his quickly. He squeezes them gently, "Don't say that." "Isn't it the truth? No god just falls in love with a mortal, Jeonghan. A god would be a fool to do that, even Mingyu did it by accident. He struck himself with an arrow, that love is nothing but purely coincidental. It's just held together by that, strings of coincidence." You scoff, and Jeonghan's brows furrow incredulously.

"Are you hearing yourself, darling? This isn't you." He shakes head at you, his bangs falling from the crown of Gladiolus flowers he wore religiously. You snort, tucking the stray hair under the petals quickly before sighing. "It's the truth, Jeonghan. Whether I want to believe it or not, whether I felt something for someone like Seungkwan at some point, it's the truth. It's not meant to be, so as soon as you say I can leave this place…I'm going." Your words pierce something within him, you can tell as he frowns deeply. His jaw ticks, as he mutters under his breath. You tilt your head at him, leaning closer, to hear the words spill from his lips. "You're the fool, Y/N." You frown inwardly, as Jeonghan groans in frustration. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. The two of you were on a good path. You were figuring things out, even if it was by exploring each other the way you chose to. You were intimate in ways Seungkwan hasn't been with anyone else before – he kissed you, he was letting you in. What happened?" Jeonghan paces in front of you, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked around. His lip tucked between his teeth as he nibbled lightly, your own voice tearing through the air as if to cut through any building tension.

"He just regrets it. It happens." You shrug, earning a scoff from the god in front of you. "Regrets it? Y/N, the guy was practically falling in love with you! You're smart, you're charming, you're the biggest brat I've ever met! How could he regret you, darling?" I don't know, you want to say. But a part of you doesn't want to know, either. Your eyes sting as you look away, but you close them only as you speak once more. "You're right, either way. I am the fool, Jeonghan, as are you." "Me!? I was trying to help you!" He balks, a look of incredulity in his eyes as a strong wind blows your shutters open. You jump in your seat, the tension in your shoulder making you groan as you dig your fingers into it carefully. "I know, and I appreciate it. It's just a shame it went to waste, I guess. He doesn't need me, and soon, I won't need him."

Jeonghan's jaw is tense as he stands upright, towering over you as you awkwardly adjust yourself on your stool. "Fine." "What?" You glance up at him, your hands now folded in your lap. "You can go. Whenever you're ready, you can leave the temple without another word." Jeonghan's words are anything but comforting, something you weren't used to from him. His eyes are darker than normal as he rubs at his temples, his tongue running over his lip as he sighs. "I expect you to return to Lydia and find Wonwoo. You'll room with him while you get back on your feet. I can get you an escort by tomorrow morning, if you choose to stay the night here. It smells like rain." Your brows raise at the phrase, something Jeonghan doesn't care to acknowledge. "I expect you to be on your best behavior, because we meant what we said, Y/N. No more second chances."

You blink at the god before you, who only shakes his head. "You can never say I didn't try."

Jeonghan ruffles the tendrils of your hair, carding his fingers through it before pressing a chaste kiss to your hairline. He sighs, "Good luck. You know where to find me." He spins on his heel, the soles of his shoes clicking against the marble once more as he treks the room. "Finish that tapestry before you leave. It'd do you well to leave Seungkwan a parting gift."

You don't respond as Jeonghan hops out of the window, pulling the shutters closed as he lands on the ground. 

Was it really that easy? You just get to say you're done? It's never been that easy before. Jeonghan has never let you off the hook so smoothly, much less when it's something that benefits him just as much (if not more) than it benefits you. 

You turn back to the unfinished tapestry, the yarn now tangled at your feet. You bend at the waist to pick it up, feeling your shoulder tense up as you begin undoing the knots. Soon, it's all just strings of blue and beige and brown, and your eyes feel tired as you weave into gloomy sunset.

No rain yet.

"It's certainly a pleasure to see you, Seungkwan." The younger god squirms under Seungcheol's gaze, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach. He rarely visited, and if he did, it was never without good reason. Like you, he too loved to do shit he wasn't supposed to. It often landed him here, whereas most mortals landed with Jeonghan – call it father-son privileges.

"Likewise." He replies curtly, clearing his throat as he lowers himself to the chair one of the angels has brought forth for him. He sits silently, with Seungcheol simply arching his brow at him in curiosity. "What brings you here? Trouble in paradise?" Seungkwan chokes as Seungcheol smiles into his teacup. "What?" "Before there was you, there was me." Seungcheol gestures at their surroundings with his bejeweled hands, setting the teacup down before him. "You've come to ask for redemption." "I have not!" Seungkwan scoffs as the servants place a plate of sliced fruit and warmed bread in front of him, the honey wand still inside his teacup as they slide it down. Seungkwan's ears burn in embarrassment as Seungcheol folds his hands, his eyes holding the same kind of mischief they've always shown. Seungkwan grimaces at the spread of food before him, his stomach churning at the idea of you sneaking out of your bedroom tonight as well, hoping he won't be in the kitchen as you steal bites of focaccia and cheese, pieces of salmon and lamb disappearing from the counter. Pieces he's left out for you, hoping you'll take them. Even if you don't accept the silent apology behind them.

"Being a god weighs on you heavier than I've ever seen before." Seungcheol speaks softly, earning a wistful look from Seungkwan. He doesn't respond, Seungcheol running his hand through his hair as he sighs. "You know I can't do anything for you up here, right?" "I was just hoping you'd give me some peace of mind." Seungkwan's eyes flutter closed, and Seungcheol scoffs out a soft, humorless laugh. "Me? Of all people?" "Believe it or not, I do admire your insane strength sometimes. I'm sure it'd drive me mad to be in charge of everything and everyone. I can barely handle one person." Seungkwan admits quietly, making the older man smile sadly. "I wasn't always like this." "I know." Seungkwan nods, his hand moving to take the honey wand out of his cup. "I think it was you who told me that I can't be good at everything right away. I have to learn my way." "And was I wrong? Have you not become better at things?" Seungcheol's voice holds a tilted tone, strong brows pointing Seungkwan in the direction of what's needed to be said. He sighs, nodding as he brings the teacup to his lips.

"Why does it come so easily to her?" He whispers against the porcelain, and Seungcheol only shakes his head. "What comes easily to her, comes easily to you. Both good and bad, but you both choose to focus on the things you don't have. You're human that way, you know." Seungkwan's brows raise as he looks up at the older god, who stirs a bit of cream into his tea. "I know I'm not a love expert. I've done it all – adultery, multiple wives, reverse harem at one point." Seungcheol clears his throat, cheeks tinging pink as he continues. "But I know a good woman when I see one. Y/N…she gets you. She fakes you out just enough, but never takes it too far. She knocks you down a few pegs, she makes you loosen up." "I do nothing for her." Seungkwan mumbles, holding the warm tea in his hands. It's only a few shades lighter than the first cup of tea you'd ever made for him. Seungcheol hums, "I'd argue that you do a lot for her. You feed her, bathe her, clothe her." "That's my job." The younger god tries to argue, but Seungcheol shakes his head with a smile. "Your job, Seungkwan, is to guide her. You let guilt take you down a path you would've never taken in the first place, but that guilt has begun to melt away into something much deeper. You peel her peaches. You add tomatoes to the focaccia when you hate tomatoes, you pour her wine, you fit her clothes. You hold her close and you've kissed her, Seungkwan. You've let her get further and deeper than anyone ever has."

Seungkwan sits in silence, feeling his eyes sting with tears as he looks away.

"You love her." Seungcheol whispers, making Seungkwan rest his elbows on the table, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as his shoulders shake lightly. Seungcheol reaches over, running his palm down Seungkwan's back with a gentle sigh. "You have to talk to her, Seungkwan. She figured you out faster than anyone has before. She unwrapped you from the day she got there." Seungkwan wipes at his eyes with frustration, letting a breath slip through his lips as he leans over the plate of food in front of him. He hopes you're eating something by now.

"You have to apologize, and admit your faults. You won't get through this life being so uptight about everything. They know we mess up, mortals are mortal, they're not dumb." Seungcheol rolls his eyes, earning a soft smack from Seungkwan. Wiping the younger's cheek, Seungcheol strokes the side of his head gently. "So you admit, you're looking for redemption?" Seungkwan struggles not to roll his eyes, before reluctantly nodding his head. "We can do that. Shall we?"

Seungkwan follows Seungcheol with his head low, hands clasped behind his back as the two of them make their way down the weaving halls of Seungcheol's paradise. One he'd built brick by brick, with the sweat off his brow and blood of his fingertips – housing over hundreds of gods.

Including Mingyu and his wife, Tzuyu.

Seungcheol knocks on the soft pink door, the gold knob twisting open to reveal a barely dressed Mingyu with hair stuck to his forehead. Seungcheol snorts as he pushes past, seeing Tzuyu sitting at their shared desk with a pile of books draped open in front of her. "No hello?" She calls, and Seungkwan watches as she turns in her seat.

Her outfit of a long gown and glittering sandals screams date night. Mingyu's lack thereof screams night in. A couple's quarrel, Seungkwan can tell, from the tick in her jaw and his sleepy eyes. The flowers from a few weeks ago sit in a jar, still teeming with life despite being brutally murdered by his shears.

"Hello. I've come to deliver something much more interesting than date night." Seungcheol wiggles his brows at the goddess, whose wings twitch with curiosity. "Seungkwan?" "Just trust me." The god of the sky pushes the younger one forward, and Tzuyu's eyes flash something wild as she looks over at her husband, who is now tugging a light beige chiton over his chiseled physique. "I've no reason to trust you, Seungcheol. But…I guess this is better than nothing." "Baby, I already said I was sorry. I'll make it up to you." Mingyu whines as his head gets stuck in the top of his shirt, making Seungkwan roll his eyes as he reaches over to help him. Mingyu's head pops out with a dazed look, before he shakes his head to regain his composure. The goddess before him frowns, but sighs in resignation. "What are we doing?" Seungcheol smiles, grabbing Seungkwan's shoulders and pushing him forward. "Loverboy here needs some guidance."

She quirks a brow in interest, her wings flickering behind her as she stands. The goddess flits around the duo, her manicured hands resting on her chin as her husband sits on her cushioned bench. "What are we guiding, exactly? And take your shoes off!" Seungcheol only smiles as Tzuyu forces Seungkwan to sit down, a worried look in the younger god's eyes as she hums. "This is about that pupil of yours, isn't it? Y/N, the mortal?" He nods silently, picking at his cuticles as Tzuyu gives the other gods a look of mirth. "Young love." She grins, before patting the god's shoulders. "I can fix you." "Don't. I'm fine like this." Seungkwan blurts, making Mingyu's eyes crinkle at the corners. "Yeah?" "Yeah. Can't be perfect all the time, can I?" He shivers as the words slip past his lips, and the surrounding gods only nod in agreement. "Well, let's get started." Tzuyu's voice breaks in once more, and Seungcheol steps back to allow her some more room. Seungkwan's eyes fill slightly with a bit of fear, but they close at Seungcheol's command.

Nothing but warmth can be felt around him, his chest tightening with the thought of you flooding his mind. So this is love.

It's well past nightfall as you massage your shoulder gently, your fingers not going nearly as deep as you need them to but the finished tapestry mocking you in the corner of the room. You groan in frustration, tears gathering in your waterline as you paw at yourself. You didn't manage to leave the room for dinner either, hearing Seungkwan (or…who you assumed to be Seungkwan) stumbling around in the kitchen. Truth be told, you're too much of a wimp to check. 

It didn't matter now, anyway. You'd agreed with yourself to leave the following morning, hoping for no rain. Your tapestry was large and completed, bold blues and soft beige catching the corner of your eye every way you turned. You situated your items into the bag that the yarn vendor gave you, including the blanket Seungkwan had purchased before the walk home. Your clothes were neatly rolled at the bottom, and one singular book of poems tucked under the red glitter sash you'd stolen from the god on your first few days here.

It's an odd feeling, imagining your life continuing without Seungkwan. No one to badger, no one to long for. Wonwoo would be around, but he was more your friend than anything else. Someone who took care of you as you did him, because that's what friends are for.

Jeonghan is just another god who gave you another chance. You've no friends outside the two of them, if you can even consider them to be friends. You don't know why you did it in the first place, but it makes you sick to admit that maybe, for the first time – Seungkwan's words of you not being perfect are starting to seep in deeper.

You hear a soft knock at your door, and you quickly wipe your face of any tears that would give you away as you sit up on your bed. You cross your legs over another, before clearing your throat, "Come in." Seungkwan's tired eyes peer in through the crack of the door, scanning you quickly. "Can we talk?" You don't really want to talk to him. You know that if you do, you might cry. Not that he wasn't good at making you do that anyway, but it's not like he cared. Who knows where they got 'compassionate' from, but you figure that a cruel goodbye is better than no goodbye. Nodding slowly, you watch as he slips into your bedroom, a shaky sigh from his lips as he looks at the silver tin in his hand, paired with wrapping sheets and a towel. His way of apologizing, you noticed, was this. Homemade things that would or could be of use to you, or something you might like. Like the linen he'd gotten you on your second day here with him.

"For your shoulder. It's…it's menthol and peppermint, and a little capsaicin for heat." He opens it, the muted orange salve glistening at you. You shrug, a wince crossing your face as your shoulder ticks with pain. He looks at you, and there's something in his eyes you don't recognize. You didn't really know Seungkwan, you were certain now – but his behavior seemed out of the ordinary.

"Thank you. I'd put it on, but…" You gesture at your clothing, and roll your eyes as your shoulder throbs. "You can just leave–" "I can do it for you, if you'd like." He speaks quickly, fumbling with the lid as you raise a brow at him. You recall the way he barked at you just days before, telling you he'd rather die than ever let a mortal like you help him in a time of need. The fury in his eyes when he said he didn't need you to teach him anything, and his subtle acknowledgement of that meaning he'd be depriving himself of you and your touch, your presence, your love – for the rest of your time on this Earth with him.

You click your tongue, but he rushes to sit on your bed, the wool mattress sinking below him. He adjusts himself to sit behind you, his inner thighs gently pressing against your hips. You don't say anything, simply reach for the pin that holds your top together and take it out, letting the soft cloth slip off your torso.

His hand moves your hair carefully, fingertips brushing your neck as he swoops it over. Your fingers hold it in place as you see the tin appear on his thigh, slender fingers taking a bit. "This'll be cold for a moment." The salve is cool as it touches your skin, the feeling against heat of your pained muscle making you jump. He lets out a muffled sound, his fingers softly working the salve into your skin. "Easy, don't move." He murmurs, feeling the heat of the capsaicin in his fingertips.

He's gentle and focused, and you remain rigid in front of him as thunder rolls ahead. Sighing at the sound, you peer over your injured shoulder. "Almost finished?" His eyes flicker to yours, lips pressed lightly together as he nods. You don't turn back around just yet, watching his face carefully as he continues. His free hand grabs a wrapping sheet, and he presses it firmly to your skin. 

"So it won't get on your clothes." He murmurs, and you nod, before facing out the window again. The clouds are rolling in, and you see a singular lightning bolt light up the sky. You wonder what Seungcheol could be doing now.

He wipes his fingers on a towel, tossing it into the empty dirty clothing basket behind you. Capping the tin, he uses his other hand to move your hair back. He slides the tin onto your night table, before grabbing the pin for your shirt and moving his hands to your front, gathering the fabric in his fingers and pulling it up, his knuckles lightly grazing your bare breasts. You don't react.

Neither does he.

He carefully pins your shirt back into place, adjusting the neck so it's a little loose. He doesn't move, so you speak up. "All done?"

Nothing. You feel his fingers card through your curls gently, tugging slightly. Maybe reminiscing how it felt in his hand when he kissed you in his garden for the first time. It had been just about to rain that day, too…and it did. It poured like a motherfucker. His fingers stop, instead ghosting over the slope of your neck and along the naked skin of your uninjured shoulder. He shifts behind you, and you feel his hand drop from your skin, instead feeling his forehead pressed against your body. His hair tickles, and you sigh.

"What are you doing, Seungkwan?" Your voice is gentle, it's tired. It's confused, as he breathes against you, his arms circling your torso and pulling you closer to him. Your back hits his chest, and you feel his warm lips caress your skin, heat surging your cheeks as he presses them into you. Once, twice, three times.

"I'm sorry."

You tense, his hands clutching the cloth of your shirt for dear life. "What?"

He rests his chin on your shoulder, peering up at you with the most sorrowful eyes you'd ever seen on a man, much less a god. They're glazed with unshed tears. "I'm sorry."

Here he was. The same god who insisted he'd never admit to anything, any wrong doings, especially not to a mortal. The same god who looked down on you for being so irrevocably human, the same god who watched as you did the most mundane things and wondered aloud if you needed to do those things – and insisted they were weird to him.

"You're…sorry." You repeat, and he nods slowly.

"I've been horrible to you. From the beginning, I was cold and I was indifferent and I should've welcomed you with open arms because that is what a just god would do." His voice is shaky, "I don't want to make you feel like…you're not important to me. You're so important to me and I don't want to live a life where I know I can't find my way back to you, where I have to look for you in every person I try to fill the void shaped by you."

You're silent, and he takes it as a sign to keep going.

"I need to wake up in the mornings not knowing where I start and where you end. I need to know you're not gone from my life forever if I ever wake up alone, but somewhere in this place I call home, a place I need you to call home."

A singular tear rolls down his cheek, meeting your shoulder as you keep staring.

"I need you. I'm sorry I haven't been making it seem that way, I'm sorry I lied about it. I'm sorry that I couldn't admit that I was afraid I wouldn't be enough for you. I feared that your prophecies would ring with truth and you'd leave me behind." He confesses this all in nothing higher than a whisper, tears continuing to roll down his face as he presses his cheek to your skin. You feel your chest ache something awful, before looking away. "I told Jeonghan I'd leave for Lydia in the morning. I'm going to be staying with Wonwoo." You lie easily when you're not facing him, but the weight of it all hangs heavy on your shoulders as he peers over you. "You're leaving?" The silence is deafening as you nod your head, moving away slightly from his hold. His hands fall flat against his thighs, fingers squeezing them as though to ground himself. He shifts behind you, a soft apology tumbling from his lips as he moves to climb off your bed – but you place your hand on his knee, instinctively. You sigh, patting it gently as you twist to look at him. "I'd rather a nice goodbye, Seungkwan. I don't want you to be…this. Sad, I assume." "Then don't leave." He whispers, his hands reaching for your waist. He caresses the sliver of skin softly, "Don't leave me here to miss you." "You left me, first." You shake your head, but his hands only grip onto you tighter. "And I want to prove that I deserve you, that I need you to stay. Please, please don't go." "I don't know if I can trust you to do that, Seungkwan. You…I…" You trail off as he nudges you with his nose, his lips just barely brushing the shell of your ear. 

"I know I don't deserve it, I don't deserve a chance to show you that I am deeply, irrevocably in love with you. I am truly just a man at your disposal. Please don't leave me, not now. Not ever." Your cheeks burn as he presses a chaste kiss to the lobe of your ear. His fingertips move to brush the tops of your knees, exposed by the way your skirt bunches around your thighs. You push down a shiver as he palms at your skin. "I can't get you out of my mind. Every waking moment I have is consumed by you, it's killing me inside. I can't sleep without you in my bed, I don't feel full if we're not eating together. I don't feel satisfied." "That only proves that you're a man. Because you're selfish, to the depth of you. You're a selfish, careless man who hurts people who love you." Your voice is thick with tears, an accusatory finger to his chest as you turn to face him fully. He smiles sadly, before nodding as his hand floats to tuck a stray curl behind your ear. 

"I am. I'm so insanely selfish and I only want you. I could go the rest of my life without my wisdom, my wealth, anything I could ever conjure up with all the words I know." He sighs, his knuckles pinching the fat of your cheek gently. You frown, pushing his hand away, only for his fingers to interlace with yours and pull your hand to his chest. "But you? Angel." You huff, your nose burning as you swallow your tears. "You don't get to just apologize and then we move on, Seungkwan. That's not how that works, that's not life." "Isn't it? Should I grovel at your feet? I'll do it. I'll do anything you ask of me, if it means you stay." He holds your hand tightly, rings digging into your skin as he scans your face. "I miss you, Y/N."

You close your eyes, a soft sob escaping your throat as he pulls your face to his chest. "I'm sorry, my angel. I know I've hurt you. I will never forgive myself if I let you out of my life knowing you don't see yourself how I do." You cry softly into the soft material of his chiton, his voice hushed as he rains gentle praises over the crown of your head, his lips pressing kisses gently against it. His fingers tangle in your hair, carefully undoing the knots like the day you arrived, his fingernails scraping at your skin with precision. You feel his thumb pad at your under eye, pushing your face back to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Let me prove myself to you. You can leave, if I'm not enough. I won't stop you, then and only then." His eyes hold hope as they meet yours, a shaky sigh from your lips as you look away. "What if you're not?" "Then I'll suffer. I'll suffer for the rest of eternity and I'll deal with it, I've made this bed. I'll lay in it." He holds your face carefully, before you stand from his hold. His hands fall to your hips, eyes looking up at you expectantly as you nibble on your lip. "What made you change your mind?"

He doesn't respond, only pushing you back slightly to stand before you. His hands squeeze you with anxiety, "Kissing you for the first time made me feel like I was on fire. It took everything in me not to give myself to you entirely that night. I can't lose control like that, it's terrifying." "Show me. Show me how much you care." You murmur, your fingers clutch at his shirt, "Trust me, Seungkwan." His lips are on yours before another word can slip out. It's messy, it's desperate, it screams I missed you. His arms move to embrace you fully, pulling your body to his as one of his hands snakes up to the nape of your neck. Clashes of teeth and tongue as he spins the two of you around, your knees hitting the edge of the bed as he pushes you back onto it. You peer up at him, watching the way his eyes take you in slowly.

"You're so beautiful." He murmurs, sinking to his knees on the floor. You feel his hands wrap around your ankles, and you brace yourself for him to pull you towards him – only to feel his lips pepper chaste kisses to the skin of your foot. You glance down at him, his eyes closed as he trails his lips and tongue up your calf, sinking his teeth into the soft muscle as you jerk. "Hated seeing his hands all over you. I'm still not over that." "That was over a week ago." You remind him with a soft breath, earning a scoff. "Should've never touched you in the first place. I'll fix it." He shrugs, continuing his ministrations down your plush thighs, nipping and licking with precision as your body jolts against him. He rests his cheek against your inner thigh, arms pulling you closer to his face. "Can't believe I went without you for so long. I'm sorry, my angel." He speaks to himself, bunching your skirt at your hips when you sheepishly reach for the corner, untugging it from its tucked place and tossing it over the side of the bed. 

Your thighs are spread before him, your cunt glistening with your arousal as he sighs shakily, inhaling deeply with a chaste kiss to your clit. It's almost torture, how his tongue fluidly glides through your folds like he was made to please you, to devour you in one go and enjoy it so lavishly. His eyes remain closed as he holds your hips to his face, sucking languidly at your clit as you bite back your moans, your hand holding onto his hair. 

"Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear you." He whines, almost unable to detach himself from your sloppy cunt to speak. It's muffled as you pull on his hair, a moan from his throat vibrating against you making it all the more stimulating for your poor mind. 

"Missed you. Missed you so fucking much, my gorgeous girl." He keeps talking into your skin, lips coated in your slick as he buries his tongue impossibly deeper, rings digging into the supple flesh of your ass as you cant against his mouth, chasing the feeling of the end.

Your legs threaten to snap shut around his head as you sob out his name quietly, his hand finding yours and squeezing it as your orgasm seeps through you, coating his lips and tongue messily. "That's it, angel. Fuck, look at that, hm? So pretty for me. Just for me." "S'too m-much–" You gasp as your hips betray you, chasing after his tongue as he smiles into your skin. "Oh, but there's so much more to love, angel. You'll let me, right? You'll let me show you how much I love you, won't you?" "W-want you inside," You pout as he hovers over you, nimble fingers pulling at the pins holding your top shut. "We'll get there, I promise. I just want to kiss you right now." He pulls at the fabric, the white wrapping sheet stark against your skin as he gently removes the top you've wrapped around yourself.

"Kiss you…bite you…worship you. All for me, my girl. My angel." Seungkwan's voice is hushed against your stomach, his teeth biting at any skin you'll allow. Red marks bloom almost instantly as he whispers sweet nothings, his hands carefully holding you hostage against his warm body. "Seungkwan." You groan impatiently, feeling the rut of his hips between yours, a choked moan from his throat as his lips trail up your chest, tongue darting out to land a teasing lick to your pebbled nipple.

"Seungkwan." You sigh, his hand now pinning your unwrapped arm above your head. His tongue laps at your chest like a man starved, your head now nestled between the pillows. You can't move from his grasp, only squirming beneath him before wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him flush against your core. "Fuck me already." You wrestle your arm out of his grip, interlacing your fingers as his nose brushes yours.

"I'm nervous." He admits quietly, his eyes scouring your face for any chance of laughter. Something to humiliate him with, something to dangle over his head. Your cheeks flush softly, running your fingers through his hair as you pull him down for a kiss. "Let me help you." "Y/N–" "Please. Trust me." Your lips hardly disconnect from his, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you use your weight to flip him onto his back. He sighs as your lips drag down his jaw, eyes fluttering shut as you tug his earlobe through your teeth.

"Always so tense, hm? Just let go." You murmur, feeling his cock brush against your core. You zero in on his skin, carefully tugging his shirt over his head and reconnecting your lips. Your tongue slips through his lips, licking at his own as his hands hold your hips tightly, scared to let you go. You sigh against his lips as your hips begin to rut against him, feeling his jaw slack at the friction. "Don't worry about anything. I've got you, I promise."

He only nods in response, your hand reaching down to palm him through his pants. "Don't tease me, please." He shudders at your touch, his hips bucking into the warmth of your hand as you coo at him. "I won't, gotta get these off."

You tug his pants down quickly, his leaking cock painfully hard in your hand. He whimpers against you, eyes screwed shut as you press your thumb against his tip lightly, a gasp of please falling from his bitten lips. You throw his pants over the edge of the bed, quickly readjusting yourself over his lap as his hands find your thighs.

"Be gentle." He mumbles, tears collecting at the corners of his eyes as he remains vulnerable, your hands stroking his face softly as you kiss his nose. "I'll take good care of you, okay? We've got the rest of our lives." If you feel the jolt in his chest at your words, you say nothing. You only rock against his hard length carefully, slowly sinking down. You stop as his hands squeeze your thighs with vigor, choked whimpers from his throat as you carefully grind into his lap. "Good?" "S-so good, angel. Fuck," A few tears spill from his eyes, your lips quickly kissing them away as you sink further down, the muscled flesh of his thighs flat against your ass. "Want you to see me, Kwannie. Please." You kiss around his face, his eyes peeling open to reveal absolute floodgates of adoration.

"I love you. Please, please don't leave me." He sobs softly, making you smile against his skin. "Shh. Let me show you, yeah?" You carefully begin a rhythm, his cock stretching you just right, dragging perfectly against your gummy walls. Your noises are caught in your throat, mutters of you feel so good, oh my God…from your lips making his fingers grab at your hips tightly. His eyes are glued to your face, the way your lip is caught between your teeth as you try to hold back. Your fingers are digging into his shoulders as you feel his hands move to your breasts, carefully rolling your nipples through the pads of his fingers as you whimper.

"So beautiful." You call softly, entranced at the movement of your hips and the warmth of his hands on you, his own sight lost at the feeling of you so tight and wet and all for him. "Wanted you for so long, angel. Can never get you off my mind." He whines at your quickening movements, your hands holding his against your chest as your soft sounds fill his ears.

"Want you forever." You whisper, clenching around his length at the guttural moan from his lips. He flushes in embarrassment as you lean to speak in his ear, the wet sounds between you only making everything feel heavier. "Want you only, Seungkwan. Forever."

"I'll be better. I promise, angel, I'll be the best man I can." He nods frantically as you clench around him, a shaky moan from your lips as his thumb snakes between your legs, tracing circles onto your clit as your thighs tremble. "Want you all to myself, please. Please let me have you." You nod nervously, your fingers shaking as you sigh, your orgasm building quickly in your lower belly. "I'll give you everything, for you in return. Promise me. Tell me you're mine just as I am yours." "I promise, angel." He ruts his hips up into yours, matching your pace gently as he brings your face lower, your lips brushing barely as he speaks. "For as long as I live, I promise I'll be nothing but yours. My dying days, my worst moments, I'm yours."

Your lips connect messily, the kiss nothing but bumping of teeth as you come undone around him with a low whine, feeling his skin stick to yours. The flutter of your walls is overwhelming him, high-pitched whimpers from his throat, "B-Baby–" "I know, I know. Please, make me yours." You sob against his lips, your hips desperately canting against his as his cries hit your ears, feeling his cock twitch inside you before he finally lets go. He shudders, pulling you impossibly closer in a bruising kiss.

His hand loosely circles your neck as he holds you close, lips moving in sloppy tandem with yours as he lazily thrusts into you through his orgasm. Ignoring your soft cries of overstimulation, only whispering be mine, please against your spit-covered lips as you shake slightly in his arms.

You force yourself away from him on trembling arms, your thighs locking his hips down as he chases after your mouth. You muster a stern look, your eyes examining the vulnerable god before you — with parted splotchy lips and cheeks, teary eyes glazed over with post-orgasm sleepiness. Brows scrunched at the middle, your thumb instinctively reaching to pad out the wrinkle.

“You think way too much.” You mutter, watching his eyes go wide as his mouth begins to open to speak. You place your hand over his lips, sighing before you speak. “You think entirely too much for one person. You’re a selfish brat, you’re carrying way too much on your shoulders. You can’t save everyone, Seungkwan. Who saves you, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, only blinking up at you quietly. You give him a pointed look, making him look at your chest in defeat. His brows raise, before looking back at your eyes. “You do.”

It’s muffled, but earns a tired laugh from you anyway. “You know I can’t, right? I’m not like you.”

He tugs your hand away from his face, voice hoarse as he tries to sit up gently. He only makes it to his elbows, his fingertips brushing your knees innocently. “Goddess or not, the power you have over me is unfathomable.”

“Big words already? Already back in your head, huh?” You teasingly tap his temple, and he huffs embarrassedly. “You drive me fucking crazy, alright? Up the wall insane. Is that good enough?”

You only smile down at him, your hand cupping his face gently as you pinch his cheek. “What am I going to do with you, hm?”

“Love me.” He blurts. “Love me until you can’t anymore. Please, have that mercy upon me.”

“It won’t be easy. This…you and me.” You admit, sighing as your hands splayed across his chest. “You have to give me all of you, not just what you deem fit for my consumption. I’m a mortal, I’m not weak or dazed or whatever you may think of me. I don't care about what you are, god or mortal.”

“I don’t think that of you at all, angel.” He shakes his head quickly, but you just run your hand through his hair to stop him. "We'll get there, okay? I just…I don't know how to do this. The relationship thing, I've spent so long being a pain in Jeonghan's ass."

You earn a snort from him, his fingers tracing light circles into your knee as he shrugs in defeat. "I don't, either. There's a lot of things I don't know how to do, but I'm not worried if I'm learning next to you." He speaks softly, and you roll your eyes. "You're a sap." "You'll stay, right?" His eyes search your face with care, heart picking up its gentle pace in his chest as you smile down at him, pressing your lips to his forehead with a sigh. "Wouldn't dream of leaving."

The two of you jump at the sound of thunder rumbling, your hand flying to your chest as the shutters flew open. Seungkwan steadies you atop him, wincing at the reminder that he'd still sheathed inside you. He doesn't make an effort to move you off, only mumbling. "We're sticky." You snort, "Wanna get stickier?"

EPILOGUE.

Opening his heart to you only opened an unlimited number of doors for Seungkwan.

He noticed more about you — particularly, the way you loved him. Your fingers easily picked the cherry tomatoes off his pieces of focaccia before handing it over, your hands bared the heat of his hot tea as you stirred it. You whispered dirty words in his ears to fluster him, your hands snaking around his body without hesitation. Every surface in your shared home was christened with you in whatever position imaginable, crumbled whines of how much you loved him falling from your lips as he worked tirelessly to please you.

He noticed the way you’d silently take the lead if something became too overwhelming for him, something he’d yet to figure out on his own. You’d take shears from his hands in the garden, you’d put a pretty spring of lavender over his ear at the slightest sound of a discouraged grunt. You’d kiss his temple, his cheek, his nose, lips with such gentle fervor, he’d feel himself melt away.

Much like he is in this moment, seeing you holding a skewer with candied orange slices. Your lips are slightly coated in sugar crystals, your hand growing weak from gripping the thin stick so tightly. He walks over silently, his fingers prying it from your grasp as you stop talking to Mingyu to acknowledge him with a gentle smile.

“I’ve got it.”

He only takes the skewer, rolling his eyes. “I’ve got you. Just let me.”

“This is a beautiful look on you, Seungkwan. So young and in love.” Mingyu’s voice is full of teasing, earning a scowl from the younger god — one that gets pinched away by your fingers on his cheek. “Stop that.”

Seungkwan’s eyes fall to you, your relaxed shoulders surrounded by everyone you’ve only ever heard of — and stories you’ve only told, never known. You’re covered by the tapestry you’d made for him, the large owl on display across your back as a matching blue hood covers your hair carefully. You’d been far too proud of it to only display it in the temple — and you’d been right to do so, you’d only received compliments since, from gods and mortals alike.

Your posture only proved how little everyone's power affected you. You cared nothing of their advantages, their own hubris, nothing – you spoke to everyone the same way. You smiled mischievously, you nibbled on the inside of your cheek when deep in thought. You nodded along to deeper stories of woe and war, and held your wine glass close to your chest when offered more.

Your eyes would look for him in the crowds of gods, looking for the bright green wreath he donned regularly amongst his peers. He'd meet them every so often, a soft look of concern on his face as you simply smiled and turned back to your conversation. You'd find him for comfort, for strength, for someone to hold your drink if your wrist got tired. You stood in front of everyone with a brave smile, but he knew that deep down, you'd be once more leaving everything you'd known life to be – this time, for him. To be by his side, as an eternal being he can love and worship and tend to. A goddess of his very own, one that no one has to understand but him – and he selfishly hopes no one ever does decipher the intricate ways of your heart, the weaves of your fingers and stories of your mind.

So sure, it might not be the best thing ever. It might be an admittance of imperfection, it might be lack of common sense for a god so skilled to fall straight into the sticky web of a lying, deceiving mortal. A mortal who has pushed and pulled him back and forth, a mortal who has shown him pure and unadulterated appreciation despite knowing that their past is one of the rockiest starts to a love story ever possibly written. A mortal who is now knelt before his fellow gods, Seungcheol's hand hovering over your head as he gently allows yet another disturbance of natural order – yet another mortal, who fell for a god, and a god who lost his first fight to love.

"Hey." You murmur, weaving through a few people to reach him. He looks up, eyes wide as you untuck your hair from the cloak. In your hand is the singular crown of marigolds Seungcheol had given you, something that Seungkwan brought forth when you made the trip to see the god of the sky. Seungcheol welcomed you into his home with a warm smile, giving Seungkwan a wink as the two of you left everyone in awe.

"Hey, you." He nods, setting down his glass of wine on the bar. Your candied orange is still in his other hand, and you happily take it back, sinking your teeth into the crumbly sugar. "Drinking all by yourself, handsome?" "You don't have to keep flirting with me, you know. I'm already a mess." He rolls his eyes, but you only coo at the tinge of pink in his ears. "But I do, my love. It keeps our love alive." You gesture methodically to the air around you, making him laugh.

"How are you feeling? I don't know the mortal-to-goddess route." He snakes his arms around your waist, earning a whistle from Mingyu across the room. He childishly sticks his tongue out at him, making you smile. "Mmh. I feel the same, I think. Just a little bit of pressure." "Comes with the job, I fear." He nods, plucking the marigold crown from your fingers. "You need to wear this, pretty." He jostles it gently, blooming the petals further with his fingertips. You bow your head slightly, and he places it carefully atop your hair.

"I love you." He murmurs, tucking a loose strand of your hair over your ear. You only smile in return, pressing a sugary kiss to the side of his lips. "As endlessly as I love you?" "Probably more. I would die without you." He nods quickly, pressing his lips to your cheek. "Can't have that, can we?"

So much for unforgiven.

haologram © 2024 || no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

[suhnshinehaos]

‘ i love you, i’m sorry ’ | boo sk

synopsis: the age old curse, falling in love with your best friend (and trying to convince yourself you aren’t) pairing: seungkwan x gn!reader genre/s: non-idol au, pure angst, one-shot (?) smau

listen to: i love you, i’m sorry - gracie abrams

from reese, with love

been a while since i wrote, might be rusty buuuuuut this song had a hold on me that i couldn’t resist aaaaa who knows maybe pt 2,, let me know if you want one! hahaha hope you’re all well :)

[hoshifighting]

— Synopsis: Lonely!Seungkwan shows up at your fishing tent and goes fishing alone because his friends didn't show up. And you make sure he doesn't feel lonely by offering him company on your breaks. — WC: 3.2k — WARNINGS: Mentions of being left out, smut, fluff, penetrative sex, fingering, g'spot stimulation, squirting, oral (m. receiving), sk is mentioned ab being good with girls一he fucks u good because he likes you sm <3

[Issue Club Serie]

You arrive at the fishing center early, just as the first light of dawn breaks over the island bay. The salty tang of the sea air fills your lungs, a familiar comfort. Your dad's fishing center stands quiet and still, a stark contrast to the bustling weekends when groups of men flock here, escaping their everyday lives with beer and fishing rods. You brace yourself for another routine day of serving loud, boisterous customers.

But today is different. As you unlock the kiosk and roll up the gate, you notice a lone figure waiting by the entrance. He's much younger than your usual clientele, with dark brown hair that catches the early morning light. He’s standing there, hands in his pockets, looking slightly out of place.

"Hey," you call out as you finish opening up, "Can I help you with something?"

"Yeah, I'd like to rent a fishing rod," he replies, his voice carrying a hint of shyness.

"Just one?" you ask, somewhat surprised. He nods.

You hand him a rod and watch as he sets up at one of the chairs by the water. He moves with a calm, practiced ease, casting his line into the bay and settling in. You expect his friends to arrive soon, but as the morning stretches into afternoon, no one joins him. He remains alone, reeling in a fish here and there with quiet patience.

The hours pass, and you lose yourself in the rhythm of your tasks. When the guy finally returns to the kiosk, you notice the slightly downcast expression on his face as he pays for the rental.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

He chuckles softly, "Not many options," he says, and you frown, wiping down the counter.

"What do you mean?" you probe gently.

"I invited some friends to come fishing with me today, but no one showed up," he admits, his voice tinged with disappointment.

Your heart squeezes in your chest. There's something about his cool, easy-going demeanor that makes his confession all the more poignant. You feel a pang of sympathy for him. "I'm sorry to hear that," you say sincerely.

He shrugs, offering a pained smile. "It's okay. No need to be."

But you can tell it does bother him. The way he looks down at his hands, the slight slump in his shoulders—it's clear he had hoped for more from today.

As he leaves, you find yourself hoping that next time, he'll have someone to share his fishing trip with. Until then, you'll remember the lonely young man who came to the fishing center, looking for company and finding only the quiet expanse of the bay.

A few days pass, and the familiar sight of the boy on his bike comes into view again. Your kiosk is already open as he pedals up. You glance at him and smile. “Good morning...?”

“Seungkwan,” he says with a small nod.

“How can I help you today?” you ask, leaning your elbows on the counter.

“One fishing rod, please,” he replies.

“Again,” you think to yourself. You give him a small smile and hand him the rod. He sets up alone, just like last time. You sigh at the sight. It’s a sunny Thursday, the perfect morning to fish under the warm sun with good company. With no customers around, you decide to join him.

You grab your fishing rod, some bait, and two glasses of cold lemonade. As you approach, you place the cups on the table next to him and your things on the floor. Seungkwan watches you set up a chair beside him, glancing at the two glasses. You start fishing by his side, and it’s completely silent. Seungkwan seems so used to being alone that your presence feels foreign to him.

After a while, the silence begins to feel natural. You break it, asking, “Is there a reason why your friends didn’t come today?”

He looks at you before turning his gaze back to the water. “Well, Joshua works a lot, Seokmin studies non-stop, Woozi doesn’t leave his home, and Jeonghan is dating right now. So... I don’t blame them.”

You hum thoughtfully. “They must be very busy.”

He nods. “They are.”

You hand him the lemonade, and he thanks you. Then, he asks, “Why are you fishing with me?”

“Well, I’m not exactly fishing,” you say. You both glance at your rod, which is just laying in the water, not cast far out, just resting on the sand.

He laughs. “Yes, I’ve noticed.”

You shrug, laughing too. “I’m used to selling fishing stuff, not really going fishing.”

“Then why are you fishing now?” he asks.

You smile. “I wanted to talk with you.”

Seungkwan looks surprised. “You don’t need to keep me company out of pity.”

“No,” you brush his idea away, “I really wanted to get to know you.”

Someone genuinely excited to know about him? He feels so happy he almost explodes. Every time you ask him about his favorite song, what he likes to do, what he’s studying, or why he likes to fish, he feels more and more content.

As the morning sun climbs higher, your conversations flow easily, the gap between two strangers closing bit by bit.

Seungkwan fights the urge to visit your dad's fishing center every day. He doesn't want to seem desperate. Each time he comes, he brings something new—a sweet treat, a fresh loaf of bread. You two have developed a routine of walking along the beach at sunset, feeling the cool waves lap at your feet. 

Sometimes, he even helps you with the work at the tent. Your dad is charmed by his kindness, and you can't help but love Seungkwan's company too.

He's become like a keychain, always by your side. The thoughts of him being alone have dissipated since he met you. Your friends adore him too, though you sometimes have to remind them that you were his friend first. His good looks don't go unnoticed, and it’s hard to deny that you noticed his charisma from the first time you saw him.

Now, as you close the kiosk after a successful Saturday, Seungkwan helps roll down the window gate. Your dad has gone to take some goods to the city center, leaving just the two of you. You rearrange the fishing rods on the holder on the wall, glancing at Seungkwan out of the corner of your eye. darkened interior closed kiosk, you can see the outline of his physique through his tight shirt.

"Thanks for your help today," you say, trying to sound casual.

"No problem. I like being here," he replies with a smile.

You finish with the rods and turn to face him fully. "You know, you don't have to bring something every time you come."

He shrugs, a shy smile playing on his lips. "I like seeing you smile."

The words make your heart skip a beat. You step closer, his body resting on the counter "I like seeing you too, Seungkwan."

He seems to consider this for a moment, then says, "I don't feel so alone anymore, thanks to you."

The tension between you installs, but it's a comforting kind of tension, one that promises something more. In that moment, you realize how much he means to you, how much his presence has become a part of your life. The darkness of the kiosk feels intimate, like a cocoon wrapping around the two of you.

"You know," you say, trying to lighten the mood a bit, "you're pretty good at this fishing center stuff. My dad might start paying you."

Seungkwan laughs, the sound filling the small space. "I'd do it for free, just to be around you."

Your heart swells at his words. "Careful, or I might just take you up on that."

He grins, and the warmth in his eyes makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world. "Deal," 

You two start to notice how close your bodies have become, a proximity you didn't even realize until now. The air is thick with the shared breath between you and Seungkwan, heavy and shallow. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you sense him moving even closer.

"Seungkwan," you say softly, breaking the tension. "You said you were alone because of your friends... but I never asked if you had a girlfriend."

He looks at you, his expression serious. "No, I don't."

Your heart races as you gently pull on the hem of his shirt. "So, if I kiss you right now, there won't be any problems, right?"

He breathes out slowly, his eyes locked onto yours. "No problems at all," he whispers.

You take advantage of the intimate darkness of the kiosk, leaning in to press your lips against his. His body responds instantly, molding against yours. One of his hands finds its way behind your neck, pulling you deeper into the kiss, while the other slides down to your ribs, fingers teasing the edge of your bikini, thumb sliding on your underboob before slipping under it to touch your nipples. 

The sound of your kisses fills the small space, wet and urgent. "Kwan," you gasp, pulling back slightly to catch your breath.

He hums, eyes dark with desire as he looks at you. You turn quickly to lock the door, a preventable act. Before you can turn back, Seungkwan's body is pressed against yours from behind. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close as his hips grind on your ass. You can feel the hard bulge between his legs pressing against you.

Your head rolls back onto his shoulder as you linger in the sensation, his lips finding your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses. His hands roam over your body, one slipping inside your shorts, the other trailing up to your boob.

One thing Seokmin had told you when Seungkwan brought you to meet him was that Seungkwan was really good with girls when they studied together. 

You had forgotten it.

But now, with his fingers moving in and out of your pussy, under your bikini, as you grind against him, the memory suddenly resurfaces. You didn't even notice when you started moaning, your head resting on his shoulder, mouth open as louder moans escape with each movement of his fingers.

You feel so wet, as if you'd been swimming in the ocean, but the truth is that you're melting under Seungkwan's touch. He curls his fingers against your g'spot, and you quiver, your hand bumping against the wall, knocking a few fishing rods to the ground.

"C-cumin'," you warn, your hips rolling against his hand. 

He intensifies the curl of his fingers, making them go deep into your pussy, reaching the spongy spot harder, making your body flinch up with the strength of his grip. His other hand holds your ass firmly against his cock, guiding your movements.

"That's it," he whispers in your ear. "Let go."

Your back arches, pushing your ass harder against him. The sensation completely consumes you, every nerve in your body is glowing with delight. Your orgasm builds rapidly, the tension coiling tightly in your core until it snaps, making you cum, his hand drenched inside your bikini. You cry out, your body trembling as you ride the high of your orgasm, Seungkwan's fingers never stopping their fast pace.

As you come down from your peak, he holds you close, his breath hot against your neck. You can still feel the hardness of his cock pressing against you, a constant reminder of how much you both desire each other.

He removes his hand from inside your bikini and shorts, and you can feel the wetness as he slides his hand up your belly. Your mind snaps to attention when you hear him sucking his fingers clean, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. You turn around, your legs like jelly as you manage to kneel between him and the door.

Your hands are desperate to find the hard muscle of his cock. Seungkwan braces himself by laying a hand on the door frame, and the sight of his cock, slightly slapping your face as you pull his boxers down, makes his knees quiver. The bulbous head rests against your cheek, smearing precum on your skin.

You relax your jaw, preparing yourself. Holding the crown of his cock, you prop your hands on his balls and take his perfect length into your mouth. You've seen a lot of beautiful things in your life, but hearing Seungkwan's moans is quickly becoming your favorite. He moans, sensitive to the slightest licks, and the sound makes you keenly aware of how wet you are, your bikini and shorts sopping together.

"God, you feel so good," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. His fingers tangle in your hair, gently guiding you.

You hum in response, the vibration making him twitch in your mouth. You take him deeper, savoring the salty taste and the way he fills your mouth. Each moan he releases, more you deepthroat him, your cum pooling between your legs.

Seungkwan's breathing becomes ragged, his hips bucking slightly as he tries to control himself, his grip tightening in your hair.

You pull back slightly, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock before taking him in again. The way he reacts to every touch, every flick of your tongue, makes you feel powerful, in control. You glance up at him, seeing the bliss etched on his face, lit bitten to contain his moans, and it only spurs you on.

The sounds of his pleasure, the taste of him, the feel of his body trembling—it's unforgettable. You lose yourself in the act, in the way you're linked, the darkness of the kiosk, the intimacy of the moment, everything else fades away.

He pulls you off him with a gentle but firm hand, panting heavily. "I don't want to finish like this," he says, voice hoarse. "I want to be inside you."

You nod, breathless and eager. He helps you to your feet, and you feel the slickness between your thighs, a signal of your arousal. Seungkwan kisses you deeply, hungrily, tasting himself on your tongue as he guides you to the counter. His hands roam over your body, shivers following whenever he moves them on you.

You lean back, feeling the cool surface against your skin as he pushes your shorts and bikini aside. Every nerve in your body alight with need., and Seungkwan seems very proud of the effect he was having on you. 

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice a low growl.

"Yes," you breathe, barely able to wait any longer.

With a final, searing kiss, he positions himself and pushes into you slowly, filling you completely, his cock so rigid, fighting to penetrate, as your pussy squelch around him. He starts to thrust in and out slowly, even gradually the feeling is intense, because you had already one orgasm, and Seungkwan was looking for his. 

"Seungkwan," you moan, your hands gripping the edge of the counter for support.

He groans in response, his movements becoming more urgent. "I can't hold back," he admits, his voice strained.

"Don't," you say, grabbing his hair and pulling him closer. "Faster, please," you ask, your voice desperate against his lips. 

The request makes him nearly collapse to his knees, overwhelmed by your need.

Seungkwan adjusts his grip, holding your leg up with one hand under your knee, spreading you wider as he thrusts deeper. Your head falls back, strangled moans escaping your mouth as your eyes roll back in ecstasy. The sensation is overwhelming, the heat of his embrace makes you feel dizzy and weightless.

At a certain point, you become aware of Seungkwan sobbing in pleasure in the crook of your neck, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. You glance down, seeing yourself dripping onto the ground, squirting uncontrollably. You couldn't hold back even if you tried; the orgasm doesn't just crash over you—it overturns you completely.

You stare in shock, gasping for air as the longest orgasm of your life pulses through you. Your body convulses with pleasure, and Seungkwan's reaction only heightens the intensity. His raspy moans fill the air, his balance faltering as he tries to maintain his rhythm.

He pulls out of you, unable to hold back any longer, and strokes his cock with his hand. His cum spills onto the floor, mixing with your own fluids. His body convulses against yours, and you can feel his weight as he leans on you for support.

You're left trembling, unsure whether to hold onto the counter behind you or to cling to him. Your legs are weak, and your breaths come in shallow gasps. Seungkwan's body is still pressed against yours, both of you trying to catch your breath in the aftermath of such an intense experience.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice still shaky.

You don't answer, your breath still coming in shaky gasps. Instead, you pull Seungkwan into a tight hug, feeling his warmth envelop you. He hugs you back just as tightly, his face buried in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.

The two of you stand there for a while, wrapped up in each other, trying to regain your composure. Your heart is pounding, but there's a sense of calm in the embrace, a shared understanding that words can't quite capture.

His hands move gently over your back, a soothing motion that helps you steady your breathing. You can feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your own.

Seungkwan finally breaks the silence, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "I don't want this to end," he whispers.

You nod against his shoulder, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Me neither."

He pulls back slightly to look at you, "I never thought I'd find someone like you here, I don't want to be alone again," he admits, his voice barely more than a murmur.

You smile, knowing that the day you decided to spend with this lovely boy, resulted in something like this. "I feel the same way."

His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away a stray tear you hadn't realized was there. "Let's not let this be just a moment," he says, his gaze earnest. "I want to be with you, really be with you."

Your heart swells at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you feel lighter than air. "I'd like that," you say, your voice steady and sure.

He smiles, and it's like the sun breaking through the clouds. "Good," he replies, leaning in to kiss you softly.

The kiss is gentle, a promise of more to come. As you pull back, you both laugh softly, the tension melting away into something lighter, more hopeful.

"We should probably clean up," you say with a small chuckle, glancing at the mess on the floor.

Seungkwan nods, a playful grin on his face. "Yeah, we made quite the mess."

Together, you set about tidying up the kiosk, the comfortable silence between you filled with a new sense of unity. Every now and then, your hands brush against each other, sending those butterflies to your stomachs. The mundane task of cleaning up feels almost ceremonial now—a simple act that solidifies the bond between you.

[seungkw1]

one last chance — bsk

♡ pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader ♡ theme: college au, smut [18+ MDNI] ♡ wc: 4.3k ♡ warnings: drinking, size kink, masturbation (m.), oral (m. & f. receiving), head pushing, face sitting (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (don’t do this), reader is down bad, sk is also down bad, quite a bit of whimpering from both parties oop ♡ a/n: back from my hiatus!! hope u guys enjoy this one <3

You’ve accepted that you’re never going to see your college crush again after graduation - but an unexpected invitation to a pool party might just change everything.

Boo Seungkwan is many things: charming, witty, intelligent, athletic, and incredibly good-looking. There’s not one particular thing that stands out when you think about how in love you are with him - he is simply the most attractive person you’ve ever met.

You first met him freshman year of college, at a house party just before the school year started, when you drunkenly kissed him. To be fair, you kissed a few people that night, but you don't remember the others - only the cute guy on the volleyball team made a lasting impression. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you distinctly remember him being a very good kisser. 

You had a few classes together over the years. You quickly developed a habit of sitting at the very front of the classroom - if you sat anywhere you could see him, you would simply get lost in a daydream. And you really didn't want to fail your classes over some silly fantasies. 

But at a certain point, you accepted that the fantasies were, in fact, quite serious. You wouldn't consider Boo Seungkwan to be a friend, per se - but your social circles overlapped just enough to keep him on the perimeter of acquaintanceship. Though seemingly one-sided, you came to know him well, as if he was a longtime companion rather than a friend of a friend at best. You tried telling yourself that he just had that effect on people, being so gregarious and outgoing that everyone loved him by default. Which was true to a degree. But something about him - rather, everything about him simply captivated you

And that was enough for you to fall in love. 

You always felt a little insane about it. How could you be so in love with someone without having talked to them more than a handful of times in your life? You dated around here and there, a couple relationships serious, most not. But Boo Seungkwan was always in the back of your mind. Try as you might, you simply could not get over him.

Four years came and went. The ups and downs of college life are nearly behind you now. Everyone is about to get a big adult job, perhaps move cities, enter the real world. Aside from your closest friends, you probably will never see most of these people ever again outside of social media. They’ll walk the stage, and then walk out of your life for good. 

And so, disheartened, you accept that your chances with Boo Seungkwan will once and for all become zero. But purely by luck, the next day on your coffee run you bump into a friend of a friend who invites you to a pool party on the weekend. It’s a graduation party out in the suburbs, at a huge house owned by the parents of a well-known, popular student who happens to be in the same fraternity as Seungkwan. Normally, you would've declined - you've always found pool parties a bit awkward, especially when you likely wouldn't know many people there. But there was a pretty damn good chance that Seungkwan would be there - and you would be remiss if you didn't take one last chance to at least talk to him. So with cautious optimism, you agreed to go. 

You spend the next couple days before the party massively overthinking what you're going to wear. After much deliberation you land on a bright blue swimsuit with an oversized sheer coverup on top. Good enough, anyway. 

You intentionally arrive to the party fashionably late - no need to get there too early and get roped into small talk with people you hardly know. Fortunately, you spot your roommate from sophomore year - you're not close, but you still consider them a good friend. They wave you over and you join the group; the conversation is fine, but eventually a few of them get deep into a discussion on some indie film you've never seen. You zone out, eyes wandering around the party scene. Not many people are in the pool - still too early, apparently; one frat guy you vaguely recognize is busy at the grill making slightly-burnt hot dogs, but the rest haven't seemed to arrive yet. As if summoned by your thoughts, a group of guys enters the backyard, hooting and hollering with several giant cases of beer in tow. The party attendees cheer at the sight of alcohol. 

Then, a few moments after the arriving party has entered, you see him. 

Like a goddamn scene from a movie, Seungkwan walks through the gate - his warm brown hair flowing gently in the breeze, his skin shining in the golden hour sun. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and simple navy swim shorts, but somehow still looks ethereal. 

Someone in the group you've been chatting with waves him over. 

“Heyyyyy, now the party’s here!” the guy shouts at him. Seungkwan waves back to him, his eyes scanning the group, when he makes eye contact with you. After a few seconds you realize you've been holding your breath. You exhale. 

Relax, you tell yourself. He probably doesn't even remember you. 

Seungkwan joins your group. The frat bro who waved him over hands him a beer. He opens it and chugs a bit, the can looking particularly small in his large hands. You try to be normal and not just stare at him hopelessly, but it's easier said than done. 

A few minutes pass. Some of his fellow volleyball players were amidst the group, so they started talking about the sport. You’ve only been to a few volleyball games in your life (all of them being college games that you attended with the idea of watching Seungkwan in shorts in mind), so you do your best to follow along with the conversation, but it's not going too well for you. So you mostly just remain silent. 

After a while, you start thinking of excuses to get you out of this conversation. Not that you don't want to be around him anymore - but you're feeling too awkward for your liking at this point. You decide that you can probably just slip away without anyone noticing, so you turn to leave. 

“Hey y/n! Want a beer?”

You freeze in your tracks. Turning back around, you see Seungkwan in front of you, extending a Bud Light to you. 

“Oh, sure,” you say, smiling to conceal your nerves. “Thanks!”

“Of course,” he says with a soft grin. “So,” he continues, “I heard you were-”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. 

Three of his fellow frat bros emerged out of thin air, cheering and shouting, grabbing Seungkwan and hauling him away. With a big SPLASH they throw him into the pool. 

As he surfaces he begins yelling at his friends. 

“What the hell!!!”

They all laugh at him - he pretends to be mad, but he can't help but laugh along with them. 

“Help me out, dipshit,” he says to the nearest friend. The guy reaches down to help him out of the pool, but Seungkwan pulls him into the water instead. The rest of them let out a loud OOOOOOOOH before jumping into the pool after them. 

You scoff at their stupidity, but you can't help but laugh too. 

“Wanna go inside, y/n?” your old roommate asks you. “I heard there's an air hockey table in there.”

“I’m terrible at air hockey,” you inform them, but you agree. As you step through the door to the house, you take one look back. Seungkwan and his buddies are now playing chicken in the pool. You swear you see him looking at you from atop his buddy’s shoulders, but moments later he gets whacked with a pool noodle and falls into the water. You roll your eyes as you go in the house. Idiots. 

But you secretly still hope you can talk to him again later. 

—

Your wish comes true - sort of. 

The sun is long set, and pretty much everybody is in the hot tub. You were chilling with a few others, but more and more people started joining in. It’s getting a bit crowded, but Seungkwan happens to be two people over from you. You’ve ended up between two different conversations, participating in neither, but listening along as he talks about the new music he’s been listening to lately. 

Suddenly, a massive uproar arises from indoors. 

“SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS! SHOTS!...”

In an instant nearly everybody leaps out of the hot tub, whooping and cheering as they follow the drunken chanting into the house. 

Everybody but Seungkwan. 

He fixes his eyes on you - his eyelids slightly heavy from numerous beers, his red-tinted cheeks illuminated in the dim glow of the backyard string lights, his lips seemingly extra plush, soft, kissable… 

He has never looked more stunning than he does right now. 

A lazy smile spreads across his face. “No shots for you, then?”

You shake your head. “Nah, I'm okay.”

“Me too.”

A few moments of silence pass. He gazes at you as if he has something he wants to say, but he hesitates. Despite the lack of conversation, it feels… comfortable. Like you could sit in silence all night with him and not get bored - his presence is more than enough. 

“Can I ask you a dumb question?” he finally asks, the look on his face slightly sheepish. 

“Sure,” you respond, working overtime to maintain your calm exterior despite your heart rate rising. “Though - I'm sure it's not dumb,” you add affirmatively.  

He reclines, lifting his elbows and placing his arms casually along the edge of the hot tub. He looks up at the moonlit night sky, as if reminiscing. 

“Do you remember when we kissed that one time?”

You feel as if you've suddenly been electrocuted. You don't know what you expected him to ask, but it certainly wasn't that. 

He continues. “It was at the very beginning of college - before classes had even started. At a house party. We were both drunk, you probably don't even remember-”

“No I remember,” you blurt out. He turns his head to you again, a look of genuine surprise upon his face. 

“You do?” he responds, momentarily forgetting to contain his elation. 

“Of course,” you reply with a nod. 

“You must have a really good memory, then,” he says nonchalantly - but you can tell he hopes there's something more to it. 

“Not really,” you admit. His eyes remain locked on yours. He turns slightly, facing you. 

“I've thought about it often over the years. Thought about you.” 

Your stomach drops. 

He drifts a bit closer through the softly bubbling water, his eyes locked on you. “Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if I’d ever had the courage to ask you out.”

You stare back at him, too stunned to respond. His lips curl into a smile. 

“What's that look for?” he asks. His big brown eyes are practically sparkling.

“I…” you start, but your mind goes blank. You're still trying to process his words. 

“I had no idea you felt that way,” you eventually manage to say. “Honestly, I didn't even know if you remembered who I was.”

“You're kinda hard to forget.”

“Oh,” is what manages to come out of your mouth. You feel dizzy.

“What do you mean, courage?” you ask him. 

“Hm? Oh, I mean you’re just so… out of my league.”

You let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. It’s Seungkwan’s turn to look confused. 

“It's true!” he proclaims. 

You gawk back at him. He laughs. 

“You look flabbergasted.”

“I am flabbergasted,” you concur. “You're the one who's way out of my league!”

He shakes his head. “You're crazy. But that's why I like you.” He drifts toward you even further, fully sitting beside you now. His shoulder brushes against yours. A rush of adrenaline pulses through your body. 

“That,” he continues, “and the fact that you're one of the smartest people I know. And kind. And funny. And…”

Gently, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up toward his. 

“So beautiful.”

Without a further thought, you kiss him. 

He kisses you back, with such passion that can only be achieved by a prolonged period of yearning. He cradles your face in his hand, the other reaching for your waist under the water. You grasp his shirt in your fist, melting into the kiss you've been dreaming of for years. You slide your other hand underneath the drenched fabric of his tee, wrapping around to the small of his back, drawing him in even closer. He wraps both arms around you, pulling you onto his lap, squeezing your body tightly against his as his lips hungrily lock into yours. Your mind is completely devoid of any thoughts unrelated to Seungkwan - you only think of him, of his words to you, of the sensations of his figure touching yours, of the hardening form beneath his trousers pressing against your core. 

After what feels like a blissful eternity, your lips delicately part, your mouths lingering next to one another. You’re fully sat upon him now, straddling his thighs as he holds you tight in his arms. You slide your arms over his shoulders, shifting yourself upwards - ostensibly to position yourself more comfortably, but also conveniently grinding against the bulge in his swim trunks. He groans at the sensation.  

“Fuckkkkk.”

He looks up at you, longingly. You're both still somewhat inebriated, but sobered up enough from the adrenaline rush of physical touch. 

“What if we…,” you start, pausing to plant several kisses onto his soft cheeks. 

“...got out of here?”

His eyes light up with excitement. 

“We could head to my place-”

“Nuh-uh,” he interjects. “That'll take too long,” he  mumbles as he presses his mouth against your neck. You let out an involuntary noise. 

“I've waited long enough. I want you now.”

His voice grumbling in your ear makes your pussy ache. 

“I happen to be staying the night in the guest bedroom,” he tells you as he runs his fingers gently up and down your back. “Upstairs - third door on the left at the end of the halfway.”

You draw your face back, pressing your forehead against his. 

“Well that's convenient.”

He grins. “You go first. I’ll join you in a couple minutes.”

You quickly dry off, don your coverup, and enter the buzzing house. You worry that someone is going to see you heading upstairs and ask you what you're doing - but nobody even seems to realize you're there. They're all too drunk to notice or give a shit. 

Acting as if you belong there, you head up the large staircase. Upstairs you find a ridiculously long hallway - you approach the third door on the left, giving a soft knock in case anyone else has decided to use the room for similar purposes. Hearing nothing from the other side, you enter. The guest room is fairly large, equipped with the usual furnishings, with Seungkwan’s bag and things tidily placed in their appropriate spots. A king size bed with expensive-looking sheets and a plethora of pillows awaits. 

Before you can even start to overthink everything, the room is flooded with light from the door opening abruptly. Startled, you turn around to see the light extinguished as quickly as it appeared as Seungkwan shuts the door behind him and turns the lock. He arrived shirtless - which makes sense considering that his t-shirt would've been sopping wet due to him wearing it in the pool, but his unexpected half-nakedness certainly makes your insides jolt. Even in the dimness of the room, even with damp strands of hastily towel-dried hair laying disheveled across his forehead, he is strikingly hot. 

“That was fas-”

“Couldn't wait,” he says as he grabs your face, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss. You grasp onto the bulge in his shorts, squeezing lightly. He moans into your mouth as he kisses you still. You grab ahold of your coverup, starting to remove it, but his hands snap up to your wrists, stopping you. 

“Hold on,” he mutters, his lips barely separated from yours. 

His fingers delicately trace the swimsuit’s thin straps though the sheer outer fabric. He lifts his hand and cups your face in his palm, stroking your cheek softly with his thumb. 

“I wanna watch.”

He pulls the desk chair out and sits down, his supple thighs spreading apart to accommodate what appears to be a thick fucking cock, still growing in size. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I mean, I’m only wearing a swimsuit, it's not gonna take long.”

“Take your time, baby.”

And so you make a show out of it. 

You caress your breasts through the sheer top, squeezing them gently. You run your fingertips over your nipples, causing them to harden and visibly poke through the swimsuit. Seungkwan moans at the sight of them, reaching his hand down to his cock and stroking it slowly through his shorts. 

You peel your outer garment off your body in slow motion, discarding it to the floor. You run your hands back down your body, hugging every curve; one hand returns to your breast, pinching your nipple, while the other keeps sliding down, finding your clit and massaging it lightly over the fabric. 

“God that's fucking hot.”

He reaches his hand into his shorts, letting out a pathetic whine as he touches himself. You feel your cunt throb beneath your fingers. 

“Take those off,” you plead.  

He gives a few more slow pumps before sliding his trousers off, tossing them aside. Your eyes widen as his length springs free, brushing against his stomach. He’s even bigger than you expected, not only long but fat. Genuinely, you're not sure how he could even possibly fit inside you - but that makes you crave it even more. 

Slowly you slide your swim top to the side, your erect nipple growing even harder in the cool air of the room. You run your hand over your bare tit, reaching across to expose the other. Seungkwan’s hand falls into a steady rhythm as he strokes his cock. He leans his head back, sinking into the chair, his eyes glazed over as they pore over your body. You continue, sliding the reminder of your swimsuit off and discarding it on the floor. He groans as his grip tightens, his pace increasing. 

You step forward. 

“Can I…”

You drop to your knees, sliding your hands onto his thighs, positioning your face in front of his cock. 

“Oh god, please,” he begs, nodding his head fervorously. 

You grab onto his cock, running your tongue from his balls to his tip. He moans, the sounds turning whinier as you begin to swirl your tongue around the head. By the time you take his entire length into your throat, he is full on whimpering. 

He places his hand upon your head, pushing down lightly. You slide your mouth up and down his cock, swallowing him so deep it makes you gag - but that only makes you wetter. He pushes your head down harder, pressure increasing more and more as his body writhes beneath you. 

“Oh my god baby,” he moans. “Fuckkkk y/n, ‘m gonna cum.”

His thighs begin to shake as he thrusts into your mouth, holding your head in place as he releases. Your eyes flood with tears as you choke on his size, hot spurts of cum deliciously hitting the back of your throat. His moans taper off as he comes down, his hand gently stroking your hair. You pull your mouth off his cock, looking up at him as you swallow all of his cum. 

“Jesus christ, you're so hot,” he praises as he catches his breath. After several silent moments of deep breathing, he rises, pulling you to your feet with him. His hands grasp your hips, pushing you toward the bed as he kisses you, his tongue slipping into your mouth to taste himself on you. You reach the side of the bed, the back of your legs bumping against the mattress; he swings you around, swapping places with you as he sits down. He plants a series of kisses on your stomach before gazing up at you, still high off his orgasm as revealed by his warm, glowing pink cheeks. 

“Will you sit on my face?”

You hesitate. You run your hands through his hair as you ask, “Are you sur-”

“Yes. Please.”

He lays down, resting upon the bed's many pillows. 

“You don't even know how many times I’ve dreamed of this.”

He pulls you onto the bed, on top of him. You crawl up toward his face, your pussy lingering in front of his lips. He grabs your hips again, pulling you onto his mouth. You cry out as he buries his face in your cunt, his lips and tongue traversing your soaked folds. 

“Fuck you're so wet,” he mumbles, refusing to remove his mouth from you any further. He begins to fuck you with his tongue, his nose pressing against your clit in a way that drives you fucking crazy. You grind your hips, the friction against your sensitive spot sending waves of pleasure through your body. You ride his face, hips bucking lightly as he eats you out like there’s no tomorrow. 

He drags his tongue up your slit, locking his lips around your clit, making you let out ungodly noises as he sucks on the throbbing bud. His arms wrap around your thighs, squeezing tightly as he holds you firmly against his face. He alternates between flattening his tongue against your clit, swirling his tongue around it, sucking on it - the combination of sensations driving you over the edge. 

You grip onto the headboard, white-knuckled, as your legs begin to shake. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you cry, looking down at the man whose face is buried in your cunt. He gazes at you, his eyes drunk with lust, taking in the sight of you moaning and losing your mind to his touch. “Seungkwan…”

Your orgasm takes over, riding out your climax upon his tongue. You clutch onto your breast, whimpering shamelessly, seeing stars as you cum all over his face. Time seems to stop as pleasure explodes through your whole being. 

His tongue slows as you come down, licking you softly as you brush your fingers through his tousled locks. With heavy breaths you climb off of his face, clinging to him as you lay next to him. Seungkwan quickly rolls over on top of you, his huge cock fully erect again - clearly extremely turned on by making you cum. 

You open your legs, aligning your soaked cunt with its head. 

“Fuck me,” you plead breathily. 

He slowly pushes his cock into you. As wet and ready as you are, nothing could have prepared you for his size. The stretch is instant, your walls forming around his thickness. You've never felt more full in your life. 

You let out a groan as he bottoms out, filling up your whole cunt. He begins fucking you, rhythmically pounding into you as his breath heaves with each thrust. You shift your hips, allowing him to go even deeper. He kisses you, pressing his lips against yours desperately, your moans unceasing but muffled against his mouth. Soon, he's fucking you hard - and it feels heavenly. 

“Harder,” you beg. 

His eyes devour you, his reddened cheeks glistening with sweat as he gives you every inch of his cock. His eyes close, his face scrunching up as his breathing grows heavy. 

“Gonna make me cum again, oh fuck…” he barely manages to get out before his moaning rises in pitch. He gets only a few more thrusts in before he pulls out; he grabs his cock and gives it several powerful strokes before he cums a second time, white ropes painting your dripping pussy and your stomach. 

With a deep exhale, he plops onto the bed right beside you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck. His fingers graze over your body as he reaches for your breasts, squeezing them softly as he recovers, his chest rising and falling against you with heavy but slowing breaths. 

“That was…” he says as he strokes his hands softly against your cheek, turning your head to face him. 

“Wow.”

You let out a giggle, your head still spinning from getting dicked the fuck down. 

“Soooo…” he starts, shifting his body to lay comfortably on his side. “I promise I wasn't stalking you or anything, but I did hear that you got a job in the same city as me.”

You stare back at him, confused. 

“But I thought you were moving back to your hometown?” 

He smiles. “I was planning to, but at the last minute I decided to take this offer. I wanted to be closer to most of my friends. But - I happened to hear you'd be moving there too. And I’d be lying if I said that wasn't at least a little bit of a factor in my decision.”

Your eyes light up as you process his words. 

“Honestly, I only came to this party because I thought I’d never see you again,” you admit. 

He gives you a cheeky grin. “So you came here intending on hooking up with me.”

“No!!” you balk at him, but a smile spreads across your face too. “Well… maybe a little. I figured I had only one more chance to shoot my shot. And I knew I'd regret it if I didn't at least try.” 

He beams at you softly. “Well, I sure am glad you did.”

“Me too,” you beam back. 

“Though,” you add, “Now that you've rearranged my guts I think you should at least take me out to dinner.”

Seungkwan bursts out laughing. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he tells you, but he leans in for another kiss. 

“But I’d absolutely love to.”

—

taglist: @juyeonshour @bath1lda @miniseokminnies @myhimbomingi

[kozukensgf]

Hii. I'm a big fan of yours but more like a silent reader. I just read your Vernon girl dad and was wondering if you could make one with Seungkwan. It would be sauurr cute like him taking her to parks and stuff. Feel free to ignore if you aren't comfortable!! :) love you!

hii!!! thank you for loving my works i appreciate that sm<3 seungkwan as a girl dad is SO cute so here’s my contribution. ily too thank u for requesting! 💞

texts with girl dad! seungkwan

character: boo seungkwan

genres: girl dad seungkwan, smau, fake texts, fluff, crack

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taglist! join my taglist here <3

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[quokkareactions]

Seventeen's favorite place to kiss you

Seungcheol: Temple

~when you're laying in bed, ready to go to sleep? Kiss on your temple

~when you run to hug him as soon as he steps into your apartment after a particularly long tour? Kiss on your temple

~when there are too many people around you at a party and you start feeling anxious? Kiss on your temple

~it's his universal solution to everything

Jeonghan: Behind your ears

~he's simply obsessed with hugging you from the back and talking to you like that

~and like always your hair is in your face

~so as the helpful boyfriend he is he pushes it behind your ears

~this action inevitably resulting in a peck right behind your ear as well

~he's obsessed with the way your cheeks heat up every time he does this, too

Joshua: Collarbone

~no actual reason except for the fact that your collarbone is one of his favourite things about you

~so if you're wearing an off-shoulder top or a dress with low cleavage, the minute you get out of public eye he'll start kissing your collarbone

~and you can bet he's not gonna stop there

Jun: Cheek

~basic? maybe, but your insanely loving and caring boyfriend is a sucker for kissing your cheek

~it's just enough to not overstep any boundary in public, but still show everyone how in love he is with you

~a peck on your cheek is just perfect to any and every occasion

Hoshi: Jaw

~while cuddling your jawline is just perfectly accessible to him

~it's an easy, instinctive place to kiss while whispering sweet nothings into your neck

~kissing your jaw is also a way to tease and heighten the romantic tension

~so are we even surprised Hoshi enjoys it?

Wonwoo: Forehead

~it's just the easiest part of you for him to reach

~you're smol compared to him and he uses this as an excuse

~he also just loves how intimate forehead kisses can feel

~he's not a fan of pda but he pours all his love into the forehead kisses you recieve and that's more than enough for you

Woozi: Palm

~or the back of your hand if you're holding hands

~it's a discreet way of showing affection that conveys tenderness and intimacy

~if you ask him for the reason he'll say that historically this has been a gesture of respect, admiration and chivalry

~but for real he's just a sucker for that shine in your eyes that kissing your hand causes

Seokmin: Corner of the mouth

~as your boyfriend teasing you is his most important job and he takes it very seriously

~he really will make you believe he's gonna kiss you just to leave a quick peck on the corner of your mouth

~and then on the other side

~but at the end a kiss WILL in fact end up on your lips as well, just let him have his fun before that

Mingyu: Neck

~and that's a well known fact for everyone around you

~being in public will not stop him from kissing your neck

~not to mention the hickeys that adorn your neck all the time

~i'm sorry, but you have to live with that (not that you have a problem with it, though)

Minghao: Shoulder

~and it still surprises you every time he does it

~he loves how it brings a smile to your face

~it's a way to share an intimate moment without the need for words

~you can't blame him for adoring how these kisses are affecting you and your relationship at the same time

Seungkwan: Top of the head

~good night kisses on the top of your head is a must have in your relationship

~period.

~it's his way of providing a sense of comfort and reassurance

~these kisses are always sweet and gentle and have a calming effect on you

Vernon: Belly

~you two just lying in bed with his head on your belly while you're caressing his hair

~he moves and it pulls up your top a little exposing a small part of your lower tummy

~which results in the most innocent and gentle little kiss right there

Chan: Nose

~he's just obsessed with your cute nose, that's it, that's the reason

~it's too small and adorable for him not to be

~especially when it's cold outside and it has a reddish hue

[svtswhorehouse]

DATING SEUNGKWAN INCLUDES…. — sfw

• he’s definitely the type of person to call you pookie.

• he uses the term “gyat” whenever he sees your butt. not in a sexual way, someone pls take away tiktok from him.

• his go to nickname for you is DEFINITELY boo — he thinks he’s soooo creative for this.

• he is constantly thinking of you. whenever he's buying groceries he always asks if you need something, before he makes plans with someone else he makes sure you don't want to hang out, or he thinks carefully about what he says to you incase he hurts your feelings with his jokes.

• he treats you like his personal diary. seungkwan was used to writing in his journal every night before you two started dating. you are the one person he truly feels "seen" with.

• y'all once had a phase in your relationship in which he would wake you up at the crack of dawn to exercise with him.

• one day you decided to drag him to a pilates class. he complained the entire way there, but ended up loving it. now it's HIM that drags you to the class.

• he makes sure you take your vitamins ! he's definitely the type to prioritize your health more than you do.

• if y'all aren't together for the day and you tell him you haven't eaten, there's definitely gonna be a food delivery at your door within the next hour or so.

• he's the type to get SLIGHTLY jealous, but after some reassuring he would let it go quickly.

• i'm ngl, he's not against being the big spoon, but he probably prefers little spoon tbh.

• he makes sure you know all the iconic korean songs word for word from back in the day. if you can't sing every single girl’s generation song start to finish with him, you're gonna get side eyed.

• whenever you two are separated because of touring or work, y'all are definitely the type of couple to FaceTime 24/7 and have meals together. you two also fall asleep while on the call.

• he was SO SO nervous when meeting your parents for the first time he thought he was going to pass out.

• he is NOT a morning person. he gets so sassy, sometimes you have to give him that mom look.

• seungkwan constantly praises you and makes sure you never doubt yourself.

• before you two started dating, it was actually really easy to make him flustered. he blushed with everything you did and every word you said. the rest of seventeen ended up having to play matchmaker because he was too shy to make a move.

• karaoke dates are a MUST !!!!

• y’all are the type of couple to go to disney with matching shirts and mickey mouse ears.

• he would try and teach you badminton, but gets frustrated and ends up just having you be his cute lil cheerleader on the sidelines.

• y’all typically always meet at a cafe to have a coffee or grab a bite on your lunch breaks.

• he has made it a tradition to sing you a ballad on your birthday. you look forward to it every year.

• he forces you to do face masks with him or indulge in self care nights. you don’t care though cause who can say no to a bubble bath with him.

• he would definitely pass the orange peel theory.

• you have a folder in your camera roll specifically dedicated to photos of him that would make good memes.

• you’re really close to both of his sisters and tend to go out on cute girls nights with them. sometimes seungkwan tries to worm his way along to make sure y’all aren’t talking shit about him lol.

• y’all have promise rings !!!

• he actually has your proposal planned down to the t. i’m talking ring, place, and moment.

• he’s such an active person that loves to do a bunch of activities, but it’s nice because it gets you out of the house.

• seungkwan is a person who constantly has to be doing something otherwise he feels unproductive so having you around definitely brings him down to earth. you’re the only person able to get him to relax.

• he always has a bunch of snacks on him so if you ever get hungry, don’t worry. you know who to ask.

• at the end of the day when y’all are cuddled up in bed together, you two typically watch dramas to fall asleep. it’s kind of difficult though because kwannie gets so into it and sometimes yells at the t.v :/

[mingtinys]

" have you eaten today ? "

pairing : boo seungkwan x gn!reader

"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"

warnings : mentions of food , language (seungkwan calls the reader "dumbass" lovingly)

word count : 0.6 k

a/n : words cannot describe the love i have for boo seungkwan , if my future partner isn't boo seungkwan himself i don't WANT them .

You'd like to think after two years, you've grown used to Seungkwan's disapproving glare. But jeez, if he isn't laying it on thick tonight. You're pretty sure he's actually burned two dime-sized holes through your laptop with the way he glowering from his spot across from you.

"Boo..." You draw out his name in a warning, not bothering to look up or cease typing. "You're gonna strain your corneas if you don't quit it."

"Your fingers are gonna fall off if you don't quit it." He mocks.

You spare a full three seconds to look up from your computer just to shoot him a look that says really? Now you're just being immature.

"I told you when you insisted on coming over I wouldn't be able to entertain you. This project is due in two days and I need to focus." You huff out.

It's true, you literally told him three times over on the phone he was welcome at your place, but that he'd have to be quiet and let you work. Which, in hindsight, you really should have known better considering it's Seungkwan, but you felt bad having already blown off your boyfriend three times this week due to this project. And judging from his tone when he called, he was two seconds from marching over and kicking down your door anyway.

Seungkwan clicks his tongue. "This isn't about being entertained—" you highly doubt that "—it's about you being a dumbass and overworking yourself."

You roll your eyes, but that only seems to fuel his persistence. "It's been hours since I got here and you've yet to take a break."

"I will in a bit, just let me finish this."

Seungkwan doesn't get the chance to retort. The doorbell rings with what you assume is the take-out he called in for himself a little over thirty minutes ago. You'd originally told him you didn't want anything, shooing him to quiet down when he tried to ask. But now, you're starting to regret that. Especially when the smell of his food wafts into the room moments after the door shuts.

He sits back down across from you, opening the containers and making quick work of digging in. The scent of it hits your nose tenfold, and at that, your stomach growls. Loud enough for Seungkwan's head to pop up and his eyes to narrow. Traitor, you curse at your stomach.

Seungkwan tilts his head and you're too scared to meet his gaze for fear of being scolded.

"Have you eaten today?" He asks, with a soft tone and unexpected seriousness. You just shrug, not wanting to let go of your pride.

"I'm fine."

He scoffs and immediately starts using the container's lid to dish out a heaping portion. All the while muttering to himself about you being difficult and how you're going to give him at least twelve new grey hairs.

"Here, take half." He shoves the lid, which definitely has more than half piled onto it, towards you.

When you just blankly stare at it, he sighs and picks up a piece with his chopsticks. He extends his arm as far as it can go until the item, drenched in a sweet-smelling sauce, is centimeters from your lips. "Eat." He instructs. So you do, admitting defeat by finally pushing your computer to the side and exchanging it for the plate Seungkwan fixed you.

"I swear, what would you do without me." He teases, beaming with pride.

taglist: @matchahyuck @dontwannaexsist @minnieminshi @myfavoritedelusion @tanya596carat

[wheeboo]

sleeping beauty | boo seungkwan

SYNOPSIS. in which you fall asleep on your boyfriend's lap. PAIRING. boo seungkwan x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship, just him <3 WARNINGS. terms of endearment WORD COUNT. 1.6k

requested by @boorines: 2k!!! congratulations on the milestone rania <33 i have a teeny req for your event! seungkwan + #38 from list one! super super excited to read all your work 💗 - #38: "Well, hello, sleeping beauty. You fell asleep on me."

notes: mick !!! my fellow lovely amazing boosadan tysm for requesting i hope u enjoy this <33

join the 2k celebration!

You like to think that your boyfriend's voice is simply a gift from the heavens.

Not just his voice too, of course, but solely just... him. You don't think you'll ever understand the way how time seems to slow down when he speaks. It's like the world hits mute, the background noise fading away until all that's left is the low rumble in his chest when he laughs, or the way his voice dips ever so slightly when he whispers against your ear.

It's a superpower, perhaps𑁋you really consider it at this point. He's magical. Your boyfriend is woven of magic, with this ability to bottle up time with just a smile and a nonsensical ramble. It makes you wonder if maybe you should bottle him up and keep him close so the world can always feel like this: a little slower, a little more yours.

All you can remember is Seungkwan talking about something that you can't exactly recall. It was probably about something at work, or maybe it was about that new dumpling place he wanted to take you out to this weekend. Whatever it was, the details were blurred all around the edges, and you find yourself flickering in and out of a state of peaceful bliss as the warm, afternoon breeze settles around the two of you.

The feeling of his hand carding through your hair isn't helping at all, too.

Your head is laying on his lap, your legs sprawled out lazily on a picnic blanket in the middle of this small park you frequent at, the air carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and pine all around you. Rays of sunlight dapple through the leaves of the enormous tree looming above, painting patterns and shapes of warmth on your skin.

You can feel your eyelids getting heavier by the minutes that pass, and fighting the urge to fall asleep right then and there is becoming harder and harder. But you can't help it𑁋not when Seungkwan is practically feeding into the urge, with his voice that is somehow a natural lullaby and his fingers gently massaging your scalp.

"...and when I tell you he literally tripped on his shoelaces during practice! We all couldn't stop laughing! Oh my gosh, baby, you should've been there. He had to practice the dance shoeless since his laces were all tangled…”

You manage to crack an eye open to look at Seungkwan, seeing that his gaze is out towards the distant pond as he continues to ramble animatedly, strands of his hair getting caught in the breeze.

You love it when he talks; he always seems so happy when he does. And you could listen to him go on and on, especially about things that make his eyes crinkle at the corners like that and his nose scrunching to fight off a laugh.

There's a sleepy, incoherent mumble that leaves your lips. Your eyes flutter back to a close, the world slowly closing in around you, and the sound of Seungkwan's voice fading into a warm, comforting hum.

"Okay, but remember that pizza place down a few blocks from our place? I heard it also got revamped into this new boba café, so I would totally be down to go there right after we..."

The moment Seungkwan's eyes fall back down to you, he shuts his mouth right away, and it hardly takes a second for his chest to suddenly feel so full of adoration that threatens to spill over the rim of his heart. His lips purse together before melting into a soft smile at the sight of you looking so peaceful right under his nose.

"Gosh, do my stories bore you that much?" he asks jokingly, yet carefully to not wake you.

He continues to peer down at you, huffing out a quiet sigh of contentment. You just look so soft right now, with your mouth parted slightly and your chest rising and falling rhythmically with each breath that leaves you. When a single strand of hair tickles upon your cheek, Seungkwan brushes it away lightly with his thumb.

He leans back on his hands, a subtle pout forming at his mouth.

"You're so pretty, you know that?" Seungkwan says, tilting his head to the sight to get a better look at you. "How in the world did I get so lucky?"

His fingers toy gently with the fabric of your shirt as he lets a few moments of silence roll through. The corners of your mouth seem to twitch at his touch, and he swears some sort of sleepy grin appears at your face. But then your lips drift back apart in a soft sigh.

Seungkwan lets out a sudden exhale he's been holding in.

"But then you always say something about how we were both lucky that we met each other," he continues on. "and while yeah, that may be true. I just... I can't help but think I'm the luckier one, because you're you, and if someone were to think they weren't lucky to have you in their life, then they're stupid."

His eyes continue to wander from you and out towards the sky, watching the sun beginning to set across the horizon.

"Do you... ever think about the future?" Seungkwan asks almost hesitantly, voice lowering a smidge at the vulnerability cracking through. "I know you hate thinking about it. But when you think of me... if you think of me being there with you, does it, um... make it feel less scary?"

He wants to mentally facepalm himself for wording it like that, or for asking it in general. Yet the question seemed to have been burning a hole through his tongue for a while now, and it's all deciding to tumble out.

Seungkwan leans down again, brushing another stray hair from your forehead. The remnants of the setting sun cast an orange glow on your features, making you look even more ethereal than usual.

"It's definitely not as scary when I think about it, because... you're in it." He chuckles to himself at how absolutely cheesy that sounded. "Could you imagine our house together? I know you've always wanted a bigger bed for all your stuffed animals and a bookshelf for your books. We could even paint the walls that colour you showed me on Pinterest the other day..."

The thought of one day having an entire house for just the two of you makes his cheeks burn with anticipation, like he's watching it all unfold in his mind. He knows he's imagining way farther ahead than ever before, but the future suddenly feels so easy and possible with you by his side.

Seungkwan steals another careful glance at you, as if he's waiting for an answer he knows he probably won't hear. When the silence starts to feel heavy, he sucks in another deep breath.

"I just hope that wherever you'll be in ten, twenty years from now... that you're happy," he says. "and that maybe, just maybe, you'll be happy with me, if you wanted to, of course."

As the uncertainty lingers in the air, the sound of gravel cracking snaps his attention away for a second. Seungkwan turns his head to catch the sight of a nearby family walking by, their laughter mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves. A ghost of a smile touches his lips as he watches them, the warmth in his chest spreading throughout his body. Then he glances back down at you, and his smile hardly wavers.

When his hands drift from your hair, you stir slightly, eyelids fluttering open a fraction. The world slowly but surely comes back into focus, and you feel yourself stretch your legs out. Tilting your head slightly, you meet Seungkwan's gaze towards you.

"Well, hello, sleeping beauty," he remarks teasingly, poking a finger at your nose. "You fell asleep on me."

You sit up from his lap, rubbing at your eyes sleepily. "Did I? Sorry."

"It's okay," Seungkwan reassures, already reaching back for your hand. "You looked cute, anyway."

You let out a scoff at that, but the heat creeping up your neck is hard to ignore. "Whatever, did I miss anything important?"

Seungkwan hesitates for a second, then shakes his head.

"Nope, nothing much," he answers. "Just talking about work and oh! The new dumpling place. Yeah, we're going there this weekend, and then stop by a new little boba café too."

The way your eyes seem to literally light up has Seungkwan grinning like a goofball.

"Oh, you are going to regret telling me about that, Mr. Boo," You threaten playfully, wiggling a finger in his direction.

Seungkwan just throws his head back and laughs, before reaching over to grab your hand into his. A yawn escapes you.

"We should probably head home now," he says, giving your hand a soft squeeze before standing up.

You follow suit, helping him pack up the picnic blanket and other belongings that the two of you brought together. And on the way back to the car, you nudge him lightly on the arm with a finger.

"Are you sure I didn't miss anything important? I must have knocked out for a bit, you know..."

Seungkwan bites at his bottom lip sheepishly. "It was something stupid."

"Come on. Whatever you say isn't stupid," You coax lightly. "I love listening to you."

He perks up at that, lifting a brow. "You... do?"

"Of course I do."

"But you fell asleep𑁋"

"Okay, the position was too comfortable," You insist hastily. "and your voice is really nice to listen to. I'm wide awake now, I swear."

Seungkwan only pauses for a few moments, a bashful look at his face. He can feel the vulnerability seeping through again, despite knowing that it's completely okay to be vulnerable, especially with you. But he'd rather say it all when the two of you are in a more comfortable... environment.

"I'll tell you at home, okay?" He presses a small kiss to your cheek. "I promise."

And when he turns away from you, you gaze down at the ground, feeling the corners of your mouth tugging back upwards.

Oh, you can't wait to hear him say all that again.

taglist (open) ʚɞ @enhazen @haowrld @icyminghao @slytherinshua @jeonride @lockburn-castle @vrnism @weird-bookworm @mhlsymlysn @ryuwonieebae @yeonjuns-redhair @wonwooz1 @woohaeyo @mark-geolli @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @aaniag @wootify @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @phenomenalgirl9 @roziesmei @mirxzii @bookyeom @parkjennykim @melodicrabbit @bewoyewo @honglynights @bananabubble @treehouse-mouse @tanya596carat @starshuas @totomoshi @armycarat2612

[diamonddaze01]

[12:38 AM]

Pairing: bsk x f!reader | wc: 1.7k warnings: crying, reader is overworked! a/n: this was 100000% inspired by @tusswrites // lowkey i need seungkwan to yell at me when i overwork myself lmao

You’re on your third hour in the library, hunched over your laptop and surrounded by a mountain of research articles, notes, and half-finished slides. The quiet hum of the fluorescent lights overhead, paired with the almost oppressive silence of the empty library, only serves to amplify the tension coiling inside you. Your gaze flickers to the clock on the laptop screen—12:38 AM. Tomorrow’s presentation looms over you like a storm cloud, the ticking clock counting down to when you’ll have to stand in front of your professor, exhausted and empty, and pray you can keep it together long enough to pass.

Beside you, Seungkwan shifts in his seat, his eyes darting between you and the neglected water bottle he placed by your laptop hours ago. He had insisted on accompanying you to the library after noticing you hadn’t stopped talking about this assignment all day—ever since you got it in the middle of class, you’d been laser-focused, muttering to yourself, planning out every detail. You could tell it worried him. He’d even made a quick run to grab snacks and water, placing them strategically in front of you, like little tokens of support. But in your mind, you don’t have time for snacks or breaks. There’s too much to get through, and the pressure is almost suffocating.

“Hey,” he murmurs, breaking the silence. “You haven’t touched any of the snacks I bought. At least have a few sips of water.”

You shake your head, not even glancing at him. “I’m fine. I need to focus.”

He frowns. “It’s been hours since you ate anything. And don’t think I didn’t notice you skipped lunch too.”

You sigh, fingers still flying over the keys. “Seungkwan, I don’t have time for this right now.”

He doesn’t back down, crossing his arms and leaning in closer. “You’re going to burn yourself out at this rate. Come on—just five minutes. I’ll time it for you.”

“Seungkwan,” you bite out, tension lacing your voice. “Please.”

He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender but doesn’t move, clearly unconvinced. Minutes pass, with him silently watching your every move, his concern palpable. You try to ignore him, hyper-focused on your screen, but his gaze feels heavy.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks up again. “Look, I get that this is important. But you can’t push yourself like this. You’ll be completely drained by morning, and then how are you supposed to do your best?”

“Oh my god, Seungkwan,” you snap, hands freezing over the keyboard as you shoot him a glare. “Can you just… stop? This is important. I don’t need you hovering over me like some kind of health monitor!”

He blinks, clearly taken aback. Hurt flashes in his eyes, and he swallows before nodding. “Oh. Okay.” He stands up, quietly gathering his things and slinging his bag over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “I’ll leave you alone, then. Good luck.”

WHe grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder, the sharp echo of his footsteps leaving an empty void between you. The silence he leaves behind feels louder than anything he could have said. You try to turn back to your laptop, but the guilt, thick and heavy, wraps around your chest. You shouldn’t have snapped like that. He was just trying to help. Your fingers hover over the keys, but nothing feels right. You feel stuck—stuck in your frustration and your guilt, as if you can’t do anything but wallow in the mess you've made.

Minutes drag by. The longer you sit there, the more the guilt gnaws at you, until it becomes too much to ignore. Without thinking, you push your laptop away and bury your face in your hands, trying to hold it all together. You don’t even know why you feel so overwhelmed. It's just a presentation, just an assignment... but your heart races, your breath shortens, and the pressure of it all feels suffocating.

"I'm sorry," you whisper through your hands, but you don’t even know who you're apologizing to. Yourself? Seungkwan? The quiet library? "I’m sorry, please don’t hate me."

Before you can collect yourself enough to go find him, the sound of footsteps breaks the stillness. Your head snaps up, and there he is—Seungkwan, standing in the doorway, holding a can of Celsius in one hand and a small protein bar in the other. His eyes soften when he sees you, and without a word, he places the drink and snacks on the table beside you. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his touch gentle, reassuring.

You can’t hold it in anymore. The tears spill over, hot and fast, and you’re suddenly choking on your own sobs. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry," you whisper over and over, barely able to breathe through the flood of emotion. "Please don’t hate me."

He doesn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. The warmth of his embrace, the steady heartbeat against your cheek—it’s more than you deserve, and yet it’s exactly what you need. The first tear slips down your cheek, followed by another, and then you’re sobbing, clutching onto him like he’s the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

“Shh,” he murmurs softly, rubbing your back in gentle circles. “I would never hate you, baby. It’s okay.”

His words feel like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your heart. You cry harder, the weight of the stress, the exhaustion, and the guilt all pouring out in choked sobs. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it. I just—there’s so much to do, and I—” Your words dissolve into hiccups as you cling to him, tears soaking into his favorite sweater, the one he wears all the time, the one that smells like home.

He doesn’t let go, holding you as tightly as if you’re the one keeping him steady. His fingers trace gentle circles on your back, and he whispers, “I know you didn’t mean it. You’re just stressed, and I get it.” He glances around, noticing the curious looks from other students. When one person stares a little too long, he shoots them a sharp look, muttering, “What are you staring at?”

You manage a weak laugh through your tears, feeling a strange warmth in your chest despite everything. But then you notice the mascara streaks and the growing damp patch on his sweater, and you pull back with a fresh wave of panic. “Oh no. No, no, no—Seungkwan, this is your favorite sweater, and now it has my snot and mascara all over it!”

He lets out a soft chuckle, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Baby, it’s fine,” he says, brushing your hair back from your face. “It’s just a sweater.”

“But you love this sweater!” you sniffle, fighting back another round of tears. “I—this is your favorite, and now I’ve ruined it—”

“Hey, stop that,” he says, gently wiping the tear tracks from your face with his thumbs. “It’s okay. I can wash it, alright? Let it all out; I’m here.” His voice is so tender, so steady, and it only makes you cry harder.

He holds you tighter, rubbing your back in soothing circles and whispering little reassurances, letting you release all the tension and guilt into his shoulder, sweater be damned. “I’m here. Just let it out. You’re allowed to feel this way.”

You’re sniffling and hiccuping, clinging to him as you let yourself fall apart in his arms. With every gentle touch, he brings you back to a place where you can breathe again, where the overwhelming chaos of your mind finally begins to settle.

When you pull back, eyes red and puffy, he just smiles, reaching for your hand. “Do you wanna go home?” he murmurs.

You shake your head, sniffling. “I… I can’t. I have so much to do.”

“Alright.” He doesn’t hesitate. “Then we’re staying. Together.”

You look at him, blinking through blurry eyes. “Wait, you’re staying? Seungkwan, it’s past 1 AM. You don’t have to do that.”

He just raises an eyebrow, a hint of his usual sass creeping back into his voice. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left my girlfriend to study alone in a library at 1 AM? If you’re not gonna let me nag at you, at least let me stay and keep you company.”

You can’t stop the small, grateful smile that tugs at your lips. He settles back into the chair beside you, pulling your laptop towards him and scanning your notes. “Alright, so what’s the first thing we need to work on?”

He’s right there beside you, the same soft hum of his voice providing background noise as he helps you with the presentation. Hours pass, and time feels less like an enemy with him there, guiding you through it with gentle corrections and quiet encouragement. The soft glow of the laptop screen reflects in his eyes as he leans over your shoulder, pointing out a flaw in the data and offering a suggestion with that familiar, sarcastic edge you know so well.

At some point, he shoves a bottle of water at you, eyebrows raised in that way that makes you roll your eyes, even though you know what’s coming. You don’t protest this time, just take it from him and drink, the coolness of it grounding you.

He watches you for a moment, satisfied with your compliance, before a small, quiet smile curls up at the corners of his lips. It’s not loud or teasing, just... there, like a secret between you two.

You don’t say anything, and neither does he.

But the unspoken understanding between you feels clearer than it ever has. And for the first time in hours, you find yourself thinking, maybe... it’ll be okay.

Seungkwan just keeps working, his fingers tapping lightly against the table as he goes over your notes. And for the rest of the night, there’s a quiet comfort in the way he’s simply there, letting you work, giving you space, but still keeping you grounded.

You don’t need to say anything. His presence is enough.

[seungcheorry]

a/n: cute little sleepy boo, i love him so much 🥹🍒

it's the simplest, yet most mesmerizing view - seungkwan walking into the kitchen, his light blue pajamas all wrinkled, brown hair a bit messed.

"what time is it?", he cutely asks.

"around 11am", you smile. "you're okay?"

"i woke up confused", seungkwan looks around. "thought it was friday?"

you chuckle, grabbing something from the fridge.

"you're good, you can go back to sleep if you want to."

"so you don't want me around?"

you side eye him - something you learned from seungkwan himself - before turning to the countertop once again. seungkwan watches as you cook what he can only imagine is for lunch, sitting across from you.

"you need help?"

"boo...", you smile. "you can't even keep your eyes open for too long. go rest, babe, i'll wake you up for lunch."

seungkwan touches his face, and god, it's a bit bloated. he hums to himself, considering to just take a cold shower and be with you.

with his eyes closed, he doesn't realize the moment he falls asleep again.

"seungkwan, go to bed", you say and suddenly he's awake again, cute bloated face staring at you. "now."

"you can't tell me what to do", he mumbles, even though he's already walking back to your bedroom. "i love you~"

"love you too, babe", you laugh.