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springseasonie · 8 months ago

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Behind the Scenes | DSC (M)

Actor Sicheng x Actor fem reader

Summary: This movie is your big break and you can't afford to mess it up. Unfortunately your costar is a known manwhore and you have to do everything in your power to avoid his advances, but at the end of the day, you're just a girl.

Warnings: sexual content, oral (fem receiving), unsolicited recording, bit of a power imbalance, dubconish, blue text is Sicheng, pink text is the reader

Word count: 3,9k

A/N: took way too long to finish this. I sorta gave up at the end I'm sorry 😞

The trailer was small and sometimes you became a little claustrophobic, especially having to share it with you costar counterpart. Sicheng was his name. There was nothing wrong with him of course. He was a nice guy, very helpful, and had a great work ethic. But he was handsome and knew it. He always joked about how people would do what he wanted without being asked because he was so handsome but every joke has a truth to it. Sicheng was a very slick man, and you were an actress breaking out in her first huge film.

You were supposed to be in your own trailer, but you have to temporarily move because of some electrical issues. You've never nervous about having to share a room with a man, but something about Sicheng puts you on edge. That or the fact that you were going to film a love scene with him the next day. You couldn't sleep, mind racing with the what ifs of the next day.

You and sicheng have already been through the entire scene, having it choreographed by the intimacy coordinator. The both of you have already done so many exercises to be somewhat. more comfortable with each other. They worked for a while, but as the hours ticked by, you became even more nervous about it all. Maybe it was because you were attracted to him and attractive men make you nervous.

You sat on the stairs outside the trailer, the moon lighting up the dark ground that surrounded you. The only thing that could calm you in your moment of stress was once again reading through your lines in the best way to forget about it. Your manager was used to it, the constant mumbling and talking to walls, no matter how crazy it looks. It helped you, the nerves you had slowly melting away.

But at this moment you were just leaning back staring at the star filled sky, taking in the cool desert air. Your feet tapped on the stairs listening to the sand in the distance. Out of all your filming locations, this was definitely your favorite. You've been practically all over the world filming this movie, but this trumps every single place you've been.

Your head turns quickly, hearing the door open. Out comes Sicheng wrapped in a blanket, face scrunched and hair tossed everyone.

“What are you doing up,” he says groggily.

You crack a smile, amused at his imperfect appearance. “I'm going over my lines for tomorrow.”

“Ah..,” he said awkwardly. Sicheng didn't talk for a second, the silence taking over the space. He felt awkward with you sometimes. With other co stars in other movies, he was way able to get close with them, but you were different. You always kept things professional, always kept your distance. He thought that you were shy, but he sees the way you act with other male costars and can't help but think maybe you just didn't like him.

You watched Sicheng as he sat on the small stairs next to you, wrapped in his blanket. “Aren't you tired,” you questioned.

“I thought you would want some company and maybe some body heat,” he said, shrugging. “It's kinda cold out here.”

“Oh, okay,” you say. You let a few beats of silence pass, staring at your paper but unable to actually practice with him right next to you. You kept glancing at his face. You've kissed him dozens of times for this movie and never felt anything, but gosh was he handsome. His pretty lips, his perfect nose, deep eyes, deep voice.

“Well, would you like to practice with me,” you asked, breaking the silence.

“Wow I thought you would never ask,” he answered almost too quickly.

You laugh at his answer, nudging him softly making him chuckle. Sicheng leans over to look at your script, his face now a little close to yours, and for some reason your heart beats faster and harder. He licks his lips, reading the words on your paper. You didn't know how you would get through the intimacy scene if you were like this at the moment.

“So you're going over this scene,” he said almost blankly.

“Yeah..”

Neither of you say anything, just sit there listening to the wind as you both stare at the paper. Your mind was racing. The both of you already knew exactly what would take place the next day and how emotionless it was supposed to be so why did you all of a sudden want it to be real? Why did you want to have sex with the man you weren't supposed to?

“Do you want to practice inside,” he said a bit quietly.

“Sure… I don't mind.”

The both of you stood up, Sicheng opening the door for you quickly. You gave him a small thank you before walking into the confined space. The trailer was a bit stuffy, the air feeling thick and dusty. There wasn't much light besides the small lamp you had next to your bed. You and Sicheng sat down, shifting over to not be so close to him.

“I don't bite,” he laughed. “Unless you want me to.”

You raised your brow, chuckling softly at his remark. “Save that energy for the scene tomorrow. We're gonna need it.”

“Right..”

Glancing at him, you could've sworn you saw a quick shadow of disappointment, but decided to ignore it for the time being. He leans his body to you a bit just to read the paper, but you can see how much he's staring at you through your peripheral vision.

Sicheng is the definition of control. He can control other people and himself. But something about the way the light shines in your bare face, the way you look when you're concentrated. He really likes it. He really likes you, and he doesn't know if he could control himself tonight. He knows he has a reputation, but goodness he'd be a fool to pass this opportunity up.

“So where do you wanna start,” he asks, leaning back on his arms.

“I don't know. I usually don't really do this with anyone else,” you laugh softly, but Sicheng still gives you the same serious expression. “I'm a little nervous about tomorrow.”

“Why? The sex scene?” He tilts his head slightly, eyes darting to your neck. So pretty, smooth, soft. He hadn't even noticed you were watching him at this point, gulping as his mind raced.

“Uh..yeah,” you stuttered. You shifted on the bed, trying to forget about the tension between you two at the moment. No one has told you directly, but you've heard that everyone thinks there's tension between you two. Before, you brushed it off, not paying much attention to it. But you've felt it more than ever recently.

“Well, we already know what we have to do,” he said, pushing himself off his arms. “Did you forget?”

You set the paper down on your lap, sighing softly. “Would you hate me if I did?”

He laughs, licking his lips as he takes a quick look at yours. “No, not at all.” Sicheng took the script off your lap, reading the words carefully before putting the paper back down.

“I want to go back home.”

You gulped, nerves now making every part of your body itch. Despite being away from everyone else, he's able to lock into his character so well. Just able to focus and immediately get into character is something you struggle with sometimes, especially when nerve wracked.

“We can't, this is us now.”

Sicheng smiles, his eyes dropping to your lips as he licks his own, just like it says in the script. But for some reason in your mind it felt more real, the tension between you both rising by the second.

“I know but..”

He reaches for your face, cupping your cheek in his hand. His hands are softer than what you remember, and he's gentle unlike other co-stars you've had. Sicheng pulls you closer to him, his lips lingering above yours, the closeness making your mind reel.

“Was running worth it? Should we go back, face the world together?”

Your heart was about to beat out your chest. No wonder he had a reputation in the entertainment world, everything about the man screams sex appeal and you were very close to falling for it. But before that, you had to remember your line.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your mind went blank in the middle of his intense staring. “I-I uh… I think I forgot my line,” you stuttered. You turned from him, searching for the paper on the bed, not noticing how he didn't remove his hand from your face or take his eyes off you once.

Once you found the paper, you heard him give you a soft chuckle but you ignored it, reading the line on the paper. “Okay I got it now, we can keep going.” Before continuing, you gulped, the feeling of his thumb stroking your cheek making your stomach turn.

“I don't want that. I want this. I want to be here with you.”

Looking up at him with needy eyes, unable to differentiate whether it was real or acting, he gulped silently. He wanted you so so badly.

"Just shut up. Don't think or speak. Touch me."

Sicheng kisses you softly like you both practiced. His lips molded into yours so perfectly, nothing about the kiss was stiff like it was before.

You play the scene out in your head, from the words you memorized to the actions in the love scene and you do them in an attempt to keep this interaction between you both professional.

Hand on your face and kiss? Check.

Hand on your waist? Check.

Leaning back on the bed and he climbs on top of you? Check.

Pushes up your shirt and exposes your lace bralette? No, that wasn't part of the script.

Sicheng kisses you passionately, his hands start going places where you didn't practice, but you can't stop him. You're so attached to him, but you know you can't sleep with him, not now. Maybe when you're more established, but not now, not during your big break.

“Si-Sicheng,” you say breathlessly, feeling his lips kiss your jawline and neck softly. “This wasn't what we practiced.” Your voice was small, you felt small under him literally and figuratively.

“I know.” His breath tickles your skin, voice so deep and soothing you start to feel your body sink into the mattress. “Y/N… I have something to confess.”

“What?” You could barely speak. The feeling of his hands on your body, lips on your skin. The air felt thick around you, making it hard to breathe. Your chest moves rapidly, every single move he makes causes you to spiral.

“I like you,” he whispers. “Alot.”

You gulp, body so still he could probably have his way with you if you hadn't suddenly come to your senses. You placed your hand on his, stopping him from moving it lower. Sicheng looks at you, his pretty brown eyes reading the expression on your face.

“I can't Sicheng,” you say.” Your mouth says no, but the way your body reacts when he takes your hand and claps it with his while he kisses your neck says absolutely. “I-I can’t.”

“Why not Y/N, you scared,” he says softly, a soft chuckle gracing your ears.

“Yes,” you sigh. “I can't sleep with you, Sicheng. If people find out, I can never come back from that.”

“And who's gonna find out?” Sicheng doesn't let you answer, letting go of your hand and body as he slides down your chest and stomach. You were paralyzed, body completely still as he moved between your legs, mouth dangerously close to your clothed heat.

“Answer me honestly,” he says, deep voice making you shiver. “If it were just you and me in the desert, would you fuck me?”

Mindlessly, you nodded. He was so close, you could feel his nose pushing against your clit, his deep inhales of the space between your legs making your head spin. “Sicheng, I..”

You let out a shaky sigh, the feeling of his hands pushing your legs up enticing you more and more. Truthfully, you haven't had sex in months because of your schedule and being around an attractive man like himself wasn't making it any better. But your dry spell wasn't worth your career and reputation.

That's what you thought initially, but there was something so mind boggling about the way he kissed your core over your shorts.

“Let me help you out,” he whispered. “Relieve that stress.”

“I.. I'm not stressed,” you said slowly. You couldn't control your breathing, chest moving up and down fast, senses heightened.

Sicheng’s hands traveled to your ass, squeezing the flesh as he buried his nose between your legs once again, inhaling deeply. “Fuck,” he breathed out. Your gulp, mouth watering as you feel his fingertips graze the bottom of your back, fingers sinking into the waistband of your shorts.

You raised your hips slowly, a silent confirmation for the both of you. He pulled your shorts down, the sound of your slides hitting the floor followed.

“I know I have a… reputation,” he says, pulling your shorts and underwear off, dropping them on the floor. “I've been trying to work on it but God…” he takes his hands, parting your legs as he lays on his stomach, face close to your crotch. You could feel his ragged breathing, every small sigh that left his lips, which means he could see how wet you were. And for some reason, it was embarrassing to you. You could barely look at him, his eyes slowly sucking the life out of you.

Sicheng licks up your cunt slowly, the pad of his tongue touching every inch of you, making you shiver. His eyes are closed and so are yours as you lay flat on your back taking in every overwhelming emotion. His tongue licks you again and again, your juices on his tongue making him moan softly like he's been craving it. It feels so good, your body is reacting but for some reason you're holding back.

“Shit,” you whispered, brows furrowing.

Sicheng kissed your clit, sucking it softly. Your body shuddered by the sudden feeling, hands naturally moving to touch his hair but hesitating. His tongue flicked your clit at a steady pace, pulling a soft moan from your lips.

“You like that,” he mumbled. Sicheng continued to eat you out, tongue moving against you skillfully, lips kissing and sucking every inch of your womanhood.

“Mhm.” Your voice was so shaky and he barely did anything to you. the intensity of the situation was getting to you, managers and other staff in other trailers could be up walking by, or anyone could hear you.

Sicheng started flicking his tongue faster, making you whine softly. This time, your hands went to him with no hesitation. Fingers gently running through his blonde hair while you lay on your back, so you can't see the way he's watching you arch your back.

Sicheng takes one hand off your leg, removing his mouth from your core, replacing it with his two long fingers. A grin spread along his face watching you sit up holding yourself up on one elbow watching him with lust filled eyes. His fingers spread your pussy open, staring you in your eyes as he sucked your clit once again. His tongue licked your dripping hole in every movement making you whimpers and moan.

“Fuck, just like that,” you moan breathlessly. Your hips started moving on their own, grinding on his mouth. You looked so pretty above him like this, moaning and whimpering his name. Your pretty eyes watching him, the more you stare the more pleasure you feel.

Sicheng sucked hard on your clit over and over, your moans getting louder and louder with each passing second.

“God, I'm gonna cum,” you gasped softly, earning an eager nod from the boy below you. You felt your body begin to tremble with the feeling of his tongue flicking the bud of nerves faster and faster. The orgasm that hit you was strong, your whine being so loud you were sure other trailers could hear it, which is the last thing you wanted but Sicheng clearly had no intention of caring. Not when his mouth is still on your leaking cunt, slurping up every drop.

Chest quickly moving up and down, you stared at him as he lifted himself from between your legs. Gosh, he looked like sex personified. Heavy breathing, skin shining, hair tossed. Sicheng tossed his shirt, standing up and removing his pants. You needed him badly, eyes fogged by the lust taking over your body.

“You want my cock,” he says, voice deep and raspy.

You nod fast, not caring how desperate you look at the moment.

“Arch that pretty ass for me.”

You did as he said, moving faster than you ever have to get in position. You can't remember the last time you let a man have you so easily. You should feel embarrassed, you should want to cover your body under the blanket beneath you, but the way he slides himself into you makes all those thoughts melt away.

The stretch he's giving you is possibly everything you needed to get your mind off the movie. You were so snug around him, your arousal soaking every bit of his cock. Sicheng watched as you rested your cheek against the mattress, small whines slipping past your lips every time he pumped his cock in and out of you.

“That's a good girl Y/N,” he mumbled, hands gripping your hips. His slow thrust was tantalizing, every inch of your body wanted more, but it felt so good. “Pretty pussy taking me in so nicely. You waited for this, didn't you?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you moaned softly. Sicheng took his hand off your hip, grabbing the back of your neck, squeezing as you pushed your head further into the mattress. “Use your words.”

“Yes, yes,” you gasped, the grip on your neck making you even more wet.

He felt you squeeze around him, smirking at your loss of dignity. Hands still on your neck, he thrust in you faster and harder drawing out louder and louder whines. If this were normal circumstances, you would be in his hotel or house, but you aren't. You're in a trailer surrounded closely by other trailers, so you have to be quiet.

“Keep quiet for me baby,” he grunts. “You don't want them knocking on our door, do you?”

“N-no,” you whisper.

Sicheng starts pounding into you, jaw dropping from the sudden change in pace. You could probably guess you looked a mess, mouth open, drooling, small tears staining the sheets. Trying so hard to pull it together, your whines increasing in pitch with every thrust and movement. His groans were music to your ears, the sound of his voice mixed with the small creak of the trailer sending you into a spiral. It's like a scene from a movie.

Sicheng almost loses control when you start bouncing your ass against him, brows knitting watching your ass cheeks jiggle. Such a pretty desperate thing you are, he should've done this weeks ago.

“You like being fucked like this don't you,” he grunts, the grip on your neck getting tighter. That's when he feels your squeeze around him, moaning into the pillow underneath you as you cum.

“F-fuck,” you whined, face twisting in pleasure, ass still bouncing back on him.

“That's it Y/N, let it out. Cum all over me baby,” he mumbled, still thrusting into you. The feeling of him still going despite you almost squeezing him out was delicious, the feeling of him rubbing against your walls making your whole body shiver.

The steady rock of the structure definitely goes unnoticed, the only thing he could focus on was your soft whine slowly increasing in volume.

“Keep fucking that pussy on me,” he mumbled, thrusting deeper into you. “Use me baby, that's a good girl.”

Your stomach fluttered at the name, only encouraging you to move your hips more. He stopped thrusting, brows furrowing as he watched you from behind. That's when an idea popped in his head. Leaning back, he grabbed his phone that laid on the edge of the bed.

“Let's make a movie beautiful,” he mumbled.

Too wrapped up in pleasure, your eyes were screwed shut against the bed, moans and whines being only sounds you could make. You never noticed him begin to record you, putting on a show for him and his camera.

You jump at the hard smack on your ass, the small burn on your skin making your stomach tingle. Sicheng rests a hand on your hip, rubbing the skin softly. He's so close, groaning and grunting in the mic of his phone. And you look great on camera, not that your face is shown, but no wonder you're a movie star.

“I-Im gonna cum sicheng,” you moan, starting to bounce back on him faster. He takes you by your hair, gripping it hard as he holds your body, pounding into you hard. Every moan and whimper was ripped from your body, the only sound you were able to make was choked breaths.

“Good girl, taking my dick like a champ,” he said through gritted teeth. “Gonna make me cum soon yeah?”

The arch in your back makes his tip hit you in places you didn't know existed, your moans getting louder and louder and you approach your orgasm. At that moment you decide to open your eyes, and that's when you see the camera. A wave of dread and shock hit you, your heart immediately sinking to your stomach. But the sinking feeling didn't have time to set, your orgasm hitting you hard, making your body shake and shiver.

Sicheng lets go of your hair, pulling out of your locks quickly. The man recorded himself jerking off, low groans in the mic as he came all over your smooth back.

Nothing but heavy breaths can be heard in the silence of the room. For him, he just got the biggest relief of his life, but for you, the atmosphere felt heavy.

“Delete the video,” you said, his eyes immediately burning into your back. “Please. I shouldn't have to beg.”

“Your face isn't in it, I promise,” he says, grabbing his T-shirt to wipe his load off your back.

“That..that isn't the point,” you whine. “Delete the video, I can't afford a sex tape leak.”

“Okay, okay. Fine.” Sicheng goes on his camera roll to delete the video, but after all he is just a man and can't help himself. That's when you start to hear moans emitting from his phone.

“Oh my God, delete it please,” you say, clearly embarrassed by the events that just took place. “I sound like a dying cow.”

“You sound pretty and you look pretty.” Sicheng watches you flip over, falling on your back beneath him. At this angle, he could probably take a pretty picture of you, legs spread, sweat sticking on your skin, get you into real trouble. “God, you're beautiful,” he mumbles. “No wonder you're a movie star.”

“And I would like to keep it that way,” you said.

He chuckled, staring down at you. “Let's make a movie then. With your face in it this time.”

You were about to hit him with a hard no but the way his hands traveled up your legs spreading them apart made your brain short circuit. Your eyes follow his every move, licking your lips when he takes his semi hard cock in his hands, rubbing his tip up and down your slit.

“Fuck,” he groans quietly. “I promise no one will see it.”

“Your eyes only,” you say breathlessly, his tip rubbing your clit slowly.

“My eyes only.”

Tags; @winko-lover

#nct #nct fanfic #nct u #nct smut #nct oneshot #nct x reader #nct scenarios #wayv #winwin #winwin oneshot #winwin smut #winwin scenarios #wayv fanfic #wayv smut #wayv scenarios #wayv x reader

222 notes · View notes

giselleloversclub · 4 months ago

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NCT HOGWARTS AU FIC REC

LEE TAEYONG

AT THE PITCH @jeogiyall

hufflepuff taeyong x slytherin reader

secret dating au

word count : 1.1k

WHEN THE SHADOW MEET THE LIGHT @taeyongtime

hufflepuff taeyong x slytherin reader

word count : 15k

personal fav

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NAKAMOTO YUTA

YOU HAVE NO IDEA , DO YOU ? @sehunniepotwrites

slytherin yuta x hufflepuff reader

enemies to lover au

word count : 810

personal fav

NOT THAT BAD @sheeple

Slytherin’s aren’t evil. Sure, there are some bad apples between them. But you find them everywhere.

slytherin yuta x hufflepuff reader

——————————————————————————

QUIAN KUN

NOLI TIMERE @itsapapisongo

Having friends in common, you and Kun have crossed paths over the years. In your sixth year, what once was an acquaintanceship slowly blooms into a friendship. And what better way to strengthen the bond than by dealing with a boggart and helping out a trio of would-be troublemakers.

hufflepuff kun x slytherin gn reader

word count : 13.3k

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KIM DOYOUNG

PUSH & PULL PT2 PT3 @notnctu

in which a prideful slytherin and an oblivious hufflepuff play a clueless emotion game of tug of war.

❝I thought Hufflepuffs are to be loyal, so why do you sleep with other men?❞

❝People say Slytherins are ambitious, so why didn’t you pursue me?❞

slytherin doyoung x hufflepuff reader

smut (mdni)

word count : pt1: 9.7k , pt2 : 2k , pt3 : 8.4k

THE ENCHANTED CANVAS @sly-merlin

Y/n , a muggle is called to Hogwarts not because of her exceptional talents but due to the fact that her soulmate is a pure/half blood studying in Hogwarts. Her destiny takes her from an average household to the enchanting world of spells and charms. Would she found the one she sought? or sh’d end up losing herself in the new world!

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MISCHIEF MANAGED @sparklingchan

You are forced to befriend Kim Doyoung under unexpected circumstances but as two lonely souls meet, you find yourself enjoying his company a little too much.

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JUNG JAEHYUN

RAVENCLAW JAEHYUN X RAVENCLAW READER @nsheetee

EVEN WHEN YOU ANNOY THE FUCK OUT OF ME I STILL LOVE YOU @sehunniepotwrites

fluff

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NOT SO CHARMING @sly-merlin

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AGAINST ALL ODDS @starryhyuck

jeong jaehyun has always had the biggest crush on you. that is, until he finds out you’re engaged to nakamoto yuta.

gryffindor jaehyun x slytherin reader

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Head Over Broomsticks

When your friends are tired of watching you and your crush go around in circles, they take matters into their own hands. Putting their Advanced Potions skills to the test, Donghyuck and Chenle conjure up a powerful truth serum and slip it in your drink right before a Quidditch game, which leads to a few inappropriate comments about No. 77, Jeong Jaehyun, of Gryffindor’s Quidditch team. This would’ve been fine if you were just a regular spectator but you are much more than that--you’re the Announcer and everyone is subjected to hear your unfiltered thoughts. Just great.

Gryffindor Beater!Jaehyun x (f) Quidditch Announcer!Reader

wc : 3.5k+

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DONG SICHENG

YULE BALL ? @sehunniepotwrites

word count : 909

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#nct fanfic #nct x reader #nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct hogwarts au #nct fic rec

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yangqism · 7 days ago

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don't wanna break up again | dong sicheng

actor!dong sicheng x singer!femreader

synopsis. love and sicheng don't complement each other. despite being aware of that fact, it doesn’t stop you from coming back again and again, even if your set-up consumes you. or, sicheng and you are in an on and off situationship because he’s afraid of commitment.

genre. angst, romance (if there's any LOL), situationship

warnings. excessive use of the word "manager", reader wears contacts at some point, they have UNSPOKEN FEELINGS (mainly sicheng), industry pressure, toxic relationship (i mean, situationship </3)

words. 5,882

eternal sunshine. masterlist

it started on a red carpet, where you’d been cornered by a journalist asking about your upcoming album. sicheng was standing nearby, his black suit sharp and his gaze sharper. when he glanced your way, it felt like the world shifted. later, you found yourself seated next to him at an afterparty, where the conversation flowed like an unscripted duet.

“so, do singers always write about their own heartbreaks?” he teased, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

“only the memorable ones,” you replied, meeting his eyes with a challenge of your own and a smile that could melt the world.

you didn’t know it then, but he’d leave you with more than enough material.

it’s been two weeks since that interaction you’ve had with the industry’s most sought after actor. you’ve heard all the good things about sicheng. how he’s shy in real life and he’s cool on camera. but you believed that that simply can’t be true.

but you also believed he’s hot and now you’re here, composing a song while thinking about that small interaction with him. you don’t know where this song would go or if this would even be published, but one thing’s for sure: no one would even know that this song is for him.

“then i had this interaction i’ve been thinking about for like five weeks,” your manager read your lyrics, cringing at them after. “what the hell is this, y/n?”

“what? a girl can’t love or something?” you sighed, putting your ballpen down and waiting for another comment about the song you’re writing. “it’s about the guy.”

“yeah! i know it’s about the guy. and i’m pretty sure that you know that if you get tangled with him, the scandal is going to be big, right?” your manager sighed. you can tell that just by thinking about how much paperworks and apology letters you guys are gonna write, if ever, if ever you and sicheng ‘would’ have some romantic escapade, your manager’s hair would wither and he’d definitely not appreciate that.

“it’s just a song! and i don’t stand a chance with that big star. he’s probably dating an a-lister actress or something,” you replied. “like probably… he’s dating that lead actress of eternal sunshine! the nepo baby! y’know… their chemistry’s unmatched,”

“ooh, yeah! i’m actually excited to watch that series because i’ve seen the interviews! oh my god they look so good together,” this time, your manager sat beside you, gushing about how sicheng and his lead partner look good together and how much he thinks that eternal sunshine would be a hit.

“now you’re making me sad,” you pouted, the thought of not having a chance with a big shot actor hurts you more than not winning song of the year against iu. “i even made the title track of their series based off of the story and some real life happenings in the set,” you grinned, ready to tell your manager the tea you got off of the set of eternal sunshine back when you were invited by the director.

you weren’t able to see sicheng before because he had other gigs, but the rest of the cast were there, filming the other scenes that didn’t require the actor.

“you know, oppa, i mean… who am i kidding? everyone knows qian kun, right?” you started to over exaggerate, “apparently, he likes the director! and everyone in the set knows it… and the director’s kinda shy about it.”

“honestly? if the golden boy qian kun likes me? i’ll marry him immediately.”

“if it were you. but the director feels a bit insecure because kun’s perfect and all. but i do believe they look good together!”

“and how did you get this information?”

“liu yangyang. eternal sunshine’s second male lead, the one who’s gonna get dumped in the end,” you stopped the sentence but your manager knew you’re about to dump the biggest, scandalous tea about the man, “but in real life, i heard he dumped dong sicheng’s lead partner.”

“if i’m being honest? sicheng and that nepo baby’s chemistry is better than yangyang’s and her. but i do see some reason why they would hit off.”

“no, oppa. you don’t get it, do you?” you sighed, “yangyang worked his ass off in this industry, the nepo baby got it because of her parents! sure, she acts well… but y’know, their vision in life might be different… maybe that’s why they didn’t become a real couple,”

“how about hendery? is he really handsome in person?” your manager curiously asked, “i heard he’s a real asshole.”

“damn right, he is! that man didn’t even acknowledge me nor the staff! he just went straight to the student nurse who was interning during the film to get some paracetamols i’m pretty sure he doesn’t need,”

“so, hendery’s hot and an asshole. got it,”

“and dejun… we made eye contact but that’s really it! he’s so afraid of human touch. but he’s so handsome too. even more handsome than hendery and i can feel that he treats everyone nicely, he’s just afraid of being too close,”

“you got all these crazy juices just from one visit on the set and it was enough for you to write eternal sunshine. your talent scares me sometimes,” you can’t really tell if your manager was complimenting you or is weirded out by how well you remember the facts the staff have told you during your time inside the set as well as your own perceptions of every actor in it but you’d take it positively because you do agree that eternal sunshine has some interesting talents in it.

“oh! before i forget, you know that award-winning photojournalist, right? ten lee? apparently, he’s exes with sicheng’s makeup artist and his award-winning piece was a picture of her when they were still together! that’s the kind of part i got inspired to write eternal sunshine, as well as the storyline.”

“they’re not together now?”

“yeah, but it’s so weird because you can feel the tension and i think it’d be even weirder now because they’re wrapping up the first season and ten has to get the interesting bits while the makeup artist has to make sure sicheng is the interesting bit.”

“i can tell that you enjoyed your time there, y/n. but you better not tell anyone these or they will be in deep trouble.”

“i know! i just had to let it out to you because i know you love those actor rumours and stuff,” you rolled your eyes to your manager, already used to him warning you about getting in trouble from time to time.

when he left, you immediately continued composing your song about you and sicheng’s interaction, acting like it went to something even more special.

“i hope i can see him again…” you took a deep breath, looking at the paper you’re writing on, wishing to see and talk to him again.

you heard whispers that sicheng would attend the music festival you were headlining in but you never really took it seriously, considering the busy schedules he probably have because of eternal sunshine. but deep down, you wished he would come and see you perform… maybe he’d talk to you again and maybe he’d be interested in you.

as the sun was setting over the vibrant landscape of the music festival, you stood at the stage, taking a deep breath before looking into the crowd. of course, you were admiring your fans who came all the way from different cities just to see you but you were also hoping to see him. and that, you did.

you could swore it was the most romantic thing ever because he was also looking into your eyes and when your orbs met? you saw a glint of something behind his glance… or maybe it was just your contacts.

the music started and you sang one of your greatest hits, everytime, pouring your heart and soul into performing because it’s a song that you can definitely relate to now. ‘i hope he remembers me,’ you thought while singing, hyping the audience up to sing with you.

“why, oh why does god keep bringing me back to you?” you sang looking directly at sicheng who’s also looking at you with something you can’t put into words. you couldn’t really tell what it is that you saw in his eyes when you were performing because he’s with his friends a bit farther on the stage but at least, you could see him.

after your performance, your manager quickly led you to your dressing room where your staff quickly went near you to take off some of the heavy makeup, replacing it with some blush and lip balm so you could comfortably watch and enjoy the festival.

“y/n, change into this outfit,” one of the staff said, giving you an outfit that is extremely better than the ones you have right now. you just nodded in agreement before going to the comfort room where you changed.

“feel comfortable now?” your manager asked, giving you a water bottle. “i saw sicheng watching you! he looks so into your performance earlier, y/n,” he added.

you could tell he was teasing you but you didn’t care. you performed your best out there because he was watching.

“it was just eye contact, oppa,”

before your manager could respond back to you, a familiar figure towered you from behind and judging his reaction, it was the person you least expect to be in your dressing room right now.

“oh, sicheng! what brings you here?”

“can i talk to y/n?” his voice was humble, gentle, and comforting. you could melt then and there when you felt his breath from your back.

your manager gave you a reassuring smile, patted your shoulder, before giving the room all to you and sicheng.

‘this is it,’ you thought. the man you’ve been crushing over for at least a month now, behind you. now, you guys are alone in your dressing room but you can’t even try to look at him without feeling nervous.

“hi, y/n,” he started.

“sicheng! so glad to see you here! i almost thought you forgot about me,” you sheepishly blabbered. this time, you faced him.

and you almost died.

the man standing in front of you is the hottest human being ever and people around you would definitely agree if you told them that sicheng is not just a random actor. he is the actor.

“you were great out there,” he smiled, “it’s one of my favorite songs of yours,”

“i’m glad you like it! i had fun writing it last year,”

he leaned against the wall, looking relaxed yet attentive. “so, which one of your exes inspired you to write that?” he caught you off-guard with his teasing remark, reminding you of your first encounter with each other.

“what’s with you and my exes? are you interested in them?”

“i’m just curious how they fumbled someone like you,” he shot back with a charming smile.

“flattery won’t get you anywhere, sicheng,” you laughed and tried to shake off what he had just said. “some things just don’t work out, you know,”

sicheng just nodded to what you have just said, “try it with me?”

this time, you scoffed, “you’re an actor, i’m a singer. that’s like… a recipe for disaster.”

“i’d be in any disaster as long as i’m with you, y/n,” he retorted, eyes staring deeply into your orbs as he waited for your response.

“whatever, sicheng,” you rolled your eyes, smiling lightly before your manager entered your dressing room again.

when your manager entered the room, you looked into sicheng’s direction, as if to signal that his time with you is over and he took that as a sign to give you a short farewell.

“see you soon, y/n,” was all he said before vanishing into the endless hallways of the festival’s backstage.

your manager’s looking at you with that stupid grin on his face, “so? what happened here and why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? you got turned off or what?”

“woah there, buddy. calm down with those questions, will you?”

but he couldn’t really stop smiling from your interaction with sicheng again. afterall, these days you’ve been thinking about the actor nonstop.

“he wanted me to try to play the game of love with him. to be in a relationship with him, i guess?” this time, your manager smiled even wider, waiting for you to continue. “stop looking at me like a creepy man,”

“you know what this means right, y/n?” he started, “to have one of the most popular actors talk to you after your performance,”

“yeah dude, it means they want to get in my pants!” you replied annoyingly.

“or you could’ve maintained the innocent route and answered, ‘oh! it means he’s interested in me!’” your manager mocked your voice to prove a point with both of his index and middle finger doing the air quote-unquote symbol.

“i know…” you whined, “but what if we won’t work out? what if we end up like those songs i wrote about heartbreaks?”

but your manager could only give you a reassuring tap on your shoulder, “then write another song about it,”

your manager is actually right.

at this point in time, you might write another song about a heartbreak. it’s been months now, since that dressing room interaction with sicheng and after it, you found yourself entangled with the actor. in every place you never thought about, actually!

“still waiting for him?” the lead actress asked you.

right, you’re in the filming site right now, waiting for sicheng because he told you to come to his apartment later. you decided it was better for the both of you to come at the same time so as to prevent suspicion from the public eye. afterall, your manager is already stressed when you inform him about the situation with sicheng now.

“yeah, i am. how’s the filming going?” you tried to make a short conversation with the lead actress. even though the public has said countless bad comments about her, she’s actually nice and easygoing. and easygoing in a sense that this girl has probably never seen a bad guy in her life!

“sicheng’s been acting grumpy nowadays. i think it has to do with his dating rumour with karina,” she started, sitting beside you. “you know how those idol-actor rumour goes,”

you nodded. of course, you do know how those go considering you’ve had countless rumours with many men, some of them you didn’t know even existed. but sicheng’s is different because his company keeps on pushing him to do it, telling him it’s ‘good’ publicity.

before you and the lead actress of eternal sunshine could continue your conversation, sicheng and yangyang came into the picture. the latter gave you a gummy smile whilst signalling the lead actress to follow him. you assumed they have made up and are now in a relationship but you could only assume, sicheng doesn’t tell you stuff.

“let’s go,” sicheng gave you a half-smile before leading you to his van where yuta, his manager, has been waiting for the both of you.

“hello, yuta,” you greeted politely.

“hi, y/n. sorry if it took long for sicheng to wrap up tonight, it’s an important scene that the director wants to finish immediately,”

“you don’t need to tell her that, hyung. y/n understands, right?” the actor looked into your direction, giving you his charming smile.

you smiled back, giving him the satisfaction.

you will definitely write a song about this.

it’s never ending, honestly. your nights with sicheng in his apartment. him cuddling you to sleep while helping you write lyrics then you begging him to spoil eternal sunshine just for the man to smirk at your pleading face before telling you to go to sleep.

it’s those nights that made you stay with what you guys have but on mornings, you would wake up alone in his bed, leaving you wondering where he might have gone.

on the first night he had left you alone, you waited until lunch for him to come home but he never did. you only realized that he had come to another filming site when your manager called you, worrying where’d you went the night before. then it happened again and again, urging you to tell your manager what really is happening but you couldn’t give an answer because the two of you haven’t talked about what you guys have right now.

“it’s been hard, oppa,” you started, sighing on the way home the next morning after your encounter with sicheng and yuta last night. “i can’t believe i’m letting him do this to me,”

“why don’t you ask him about your status? you just can’t keep on waking up alone in that bed if you guys have something going on,”

“i don’t want to pressure sicheng, especially now when things start to get stressful in his work,”

your manager sighed in disbelief, closing his eyes in disappointment to what you have just said. “you’re preparing for an album too, y/n. things are also stressful on your side,”

“he’s an actor, he has more things to think about than what we are,”

you try to convince yourself that everything is okay. his texts grew shorter, his calls less frequent. hell, he rarely invites you on set. but when he’s with you? it was like he was a different person. soft, attentive, and present. he would make you dinner and tell you you’re the prettiest thing on earth, only to be left behind the morning after.

mornings with sicheng are nonexistent. it made you feel used, unloved, and sad. but asking him your label is more humiliating. you’re afraid of putting things into his mouth, afraid he might lose interest in you if you’ve ever asked him about the two of you.

you’re afraid to be too much for him.

but you’re only human and he’s pushing you to the edge now. you’ve been overwhelmed with your recording session earlier and sicheng has not replied to any of your messages, even after you finished recording–your phone still had no sign of him seeing your chats and replying to you.

after the grueling session with your manager inside the recording studio, you immediately left him to go at sicheng’s apartment, even if there’s a risk of getting caught by paparazzis. you just can’t help it now, you’re getting suffocated and confused and hurt. you’re getting every feeling you are not supposed to feel when in love.

you rang his doorbell for the nth time until a sleepy sicheng opened the door.

“do you even care about this?” if you weren’t tired and mad, you would’ve melted at his appearance now but your voice was trembling and your legs were shaking as he left you inside his apartment.

“what kind of question is that, y/n?” his voice was sleepy but his tone was defensive.

“the kind i have to ask because you never let me in,” now, your frustration is spilling over and your mind is not working right. “i’m always the one chasing you, sicheng! aren’t you tired of running from me? haven’t you thought about what i feel?”

for a moment, you thought he might say something to ease the ache in your chest. instead, he sighed and turned his back on you. “this is who i am, y/n. you agreed to be linked with someone like me in the first place. if i’m not enough for you, maybe you should leave,”

the first break up was messy (like the other ones that followed). you tried to convince yourself that it was a mutual one but your manager, and everyone around you, didn’t believe you.

you remember the way back home, your manager picking you up crying at sicheng’s apartment parking lot. he bit his lip and ran his fingers through his hair before picking you up, telling you to shush and calm down but you never did. all you did that night was cry and ask your manager if you were not enough.

when your mind was kind of cleared, you realized that maybe distancing yourself to sicheng is for the better. afterall, you both had your careers and responsibilities. maybe being with an actor is really a disaster.

but the break up didn’t last like how you expected it to do. a few weeks later, he showed up to your apartment, which also counts as the first time he went there, after his schedule. he didn’t greet you with his calm and comforting demeanor like the first time, he was cold and unreadable–distant but pleading.

“i shouldn’t be here,” he admitted as you told him to come inside, “but i couldn’t stay away,”

and just like that, you were back in the loop. nights that felt like promises and mornings that broke you all over again.

“are you sure about this, y/n?” your manager oppa asked you.

“yeah! i feel him changing for the better, oppa,” you smiled brightly, eyes scanning the setlist for your upcoming concert.

“waking up with him beside you doesn’t count as change, y/n! you still haven’t asked him about what you guys are!” he scolded but you avoided his glance.

the truth is, you did. you asked again. it was inside your apartment this time. it was around december, when everything felt cold outside but inside felt even colder.

your head in sicheng’s lap as the both of you watched the latest episode of eternal sunshine. he was watching your reaction as kun’s character was being teased by the lead actress and hendery.

“sicheng,” you called.

“hmm?”

“are you ready?” you asked. unlike the last time where you had the guts to confront him, you didn’t have the courage to do so that night. you were afraid of what he had to say but you wanted to ask. you had to ask him.

“y/n…” he started, he was caressing your hair as if to comfort you but deep inside, you know it’s his conscience eating him up, “i’m sorry,”

you shouldn’t have asked.

it was humiliating but you can’t help the tears streaming down sicheng’s pajamas. you were crying while still in his lap. but what made you hurt more was him, raising the volume of the television just so he couldn’t hear you aching because of him.

you fell asleep with an achy heart that night. the day after, sicheng distanced himself from you, feeling ashamed of what he did. you guys did break up again that time but you didn’t have the guts to tell your manager because, like what you expected, the both of you reconciled again.

and then broke up, once more.

when eternal sunshine’s director invited you to the set again, you were hesitant to come but your manager encouraged you to do so, saying something along the lines of ‘face your fears’ or something.

“hello, y/n! long time no see!” the director beamed at your presence, “i told sicheng to bring you here anytime but he never did! your presence is missed deeply,”

“oh… we kinda broke up,” you sheepishly said, the atmosphere now awkward. before the director could apologize, you quickly added “it’s not like there’s something to ‘break’ ‘cause there was never an us in the first place… but y’know,”

she gave you a sad smile, “it didn’t work out, huh?”

“he didn’t work it out with me,”

it was true. you tried your best to understand sicheng but every break up you guys had also made him even distant. sure, he was better than the first one–he would kiss your cheek, make you dinner and breakfast but everything felt empty. as if he was doing all those stuff to keep you to stay.

“anyways,” the director cleared her throat, “i called you here because i wanted to talk about the album you’re doing for season 1 and 2. i assume your manager has told you to have it finished by the exact time the last episode of season 1 airs?”

you nodded. even during the second break up that your manager didn’t know, he made you aware of the album situation with eternal sunshine. the ost you made became a hit that everyone is demanding another song from you for the series however, both parties agreed that an album would be beneficial for you and the drama.

you couldn’t say no to your manager, especially when he looked so ecstatic telling you about the opportunity. music was your escape, but during those times it was tying you even closer to the man you couldn’t let go of.

making an album for the drama also includes you visiting the set just so you could get the vibes, to make it as close to the characters as possible.

“y/n-ssi! dejun made cookies and he said this is for you,” qian kun warmly acknowledged your presence before giving you the cookies dejun had made, “he said it’s for you. he hopes that he can cheer you up with these,”

“oh, thank you, kun! i hope to see him next time to give thanks personally,” you gladly accepted the cookies and yangyang joined in your conversation.

“that won’t happen, noona! dejun always disappears after his scenes so he’s not really close to anyone except the cast,” yangyang butted in, picking a cookie from your stash. “yum!”

“yangyang!” kun tried to scold the younger man but he already dashed off to where the director was, discussing the next scene.

“have you tried to make a move on the director yet, kun?” you teased, knowing that he had been trying to make a move, it’s just that the director keeps on dodging his advances.

“trust me, y/n. i’ve been trying,” he sounded so helpless you almost saw you in him, when you were still a mess. “he’s coming,”

kun warned you but it couldn’t prepare you to see sicheng again, after a month. you vividly remember that time when you guys reconciled but called it off again after a week. this is the first time you’re seeing him again as you were determined to not meet him when visiting the filming site.

“long time no see, y/n-ssi,”

and it hurt you more than the break ups you had with him.

the album, also titled eternal sunshine, became your most personal work. each track was a piece of your heart laid bare as well as the cast’s personal stories they had disclosed to you, but one song in particular, don’t wanna break up again, resonated louder than the rest. it was raw. it was everything you wanted to say put into a song. every lyric was a plea you can’t say aloud.

when the album was released alongside the last episodes of the series, it was an instant hit. interviews came pouring in, but the questions were never just about the music. everyone wanted to know who the music was for.

“so, y/n! it’s been so long!” the host greeted you, “the song, don’t wanna break up again, is incredibly emotional! everyone was hooked! can you possibly tell us what inspired you to write such a heart wrenching song?”

you hesitated for a moment, your chest tightening. a particular name was aching to be let out by your mouth but you swallowed it down. you smiled forcefully, like what the management had trained you before when you were still a trainee. “it’s about loving someone who pushes you into your limit, thinking you’re too much for them,” you said every word carefully, “that even though they’re making you feel all the bad stuff, you still hold onto them–like a cycle of losing and wanting,”

“sounds personal,” the interviewer teased, wanting to pry just a little more. “is it based on your own experience?”

your throat felt dry, but you gracefully replied, “i think it’s fitting for eternal sunshine, actually! but i think everyone’s been through something like that,”

but not everyone had a sicheng. not everyone had nights where love was promised and mornings where it shattered into pieces.

the thing you have been dreading to happen, happened. your fans caught up to everything. the media caught up.

the speculation began online after the wrapping up press conference of the cast where they were singing your album’s tracks. the part where they were singing don’t wanna break up again trended like wildfire that everyone talked about for weeks… because they were singing it straight into sicheng’s face.

clues were pieced together. from your social media posts, sicheng’s cryptic interviews, to his unusual behavior while everyone was singing your song.

to your fans, it made total sense. this was your most personal album and everything you and sicheng had been saying on your separate interviews during the ‘plotted’ timeline, as what they have been saying on x, connected with each other.

“GUYS! do you remember when sicheng was wearing a hoodie oddly similar to y/n’s and then us finding out it was custom-made?” one fan tweeted, garnering thousands of likes. “‘we both know this time, so we say goodbye’ y/n REALLY got in the studio, wrote THIS, and thought we wouldn’t figure it out. sis, you played yourself,” another one butted in. “‘this situationship has to end but i just can't refuse’ i KNOW this line has sicheng pacing around his living room rn. he’s probably listening to it on repeat like the rest of us but for HIM it’s personal.”

“this is bad, y/n! everyone’s linking you to sicheng,” stress is an understatement if you were to describe your manager right now, answering calls and texts here and there.

“if this was months ago, i would’ve loved all of these, won’t i?” you teased, remembering the time you imagined your manager’s hair withering from the stress a dating scandal with sicheng would bring him, not thinking it would become real.

soon, you and sicheng became a hot topic together, with the netizens creating video edits pairing scenes from eternal sunshine with snippets of your performances. every lyric from that song of yours was scrutinized, with don’t wanna break up again becoming the anthem of the speculation.

it was only a matter of time a fearless journalist popped the question, “your fans are convinced that the song is about a certain actor. do you have any comments on that?”

that wasn’t part of the question list they have submitted on your management prior to this interview so you were taken a back. you looked at the side to see your manager’s eyebrows knitted together, completely disappointed to the journalist. “i think art speaks for itself, it’s up for the listener to interpret it,” you replied, giving the journalist a kind smile.

“but doesn’t it make you uncomfortable, knowing that everyone is connecting your song to someone specific?” it seems like a kind smile won’t falter this journalist’s pressing questions.

“heartbreak is universal. the details don’t matter as much as the emotions,”

behind close doors, however, the attention was harder to ignore. your team advised you to avoid addressing the rumours and apologized for the inconvenience the journalist had caused earlier.

“it’s fine, it’s not like everyone expected for that to happen,” brushing off their concern.

despite the media buzzing over the possible ‘biggest’ dating rumour ever in the industry, sicheng and his management remained silent. it stung you deeply, for him, someone you loved dearly, to not go against his management rules and defend you. but what’s there for him to defend about?

his management, so quick to fabricate a public romance with karina to boost his movie, now met the storm with a calculated indifference. no denial, no defense–just the old school silence, hoping it will die down after a day or so. as if you were just a fleeting rumour unworthy of their acknowledgement.

sadly, the buzz grew when photos surfaced of the two of you entering sicheng’s apartment. you think it was that night when you were overwhelmed with everything that you just stormed out of your recording booth to ask him. thankfully, the photo didn’t show you and sicheng’s face but with the silhouette? it was clear that it was the both of you.

one evening, after another press junket, you found yourself face-to-face with sichang again. he’d been avoiding you per his management’s request but here he is, leaning against the wall of your dressing room.

it was like the first meeting again. when he asked you out.

“the album,” he started. his voice was softer than you expected, making you remember the nights where he’d sing to you, “it’s beautiful,”

you forced a smile, “thank you,” your tone was neutral, “i guess heartbreak makes good music,”

his jaw tightened, “you think i don’t know?”

this time, you tried your best not to let out a sarcastic laugh, “do you?” you were challenging him, stepping closer to feel his aura deteriorating, “because you made sure it never stops,”

for a moment, sicheng didn’t say anything and you thought he’d run away from you again. then, quietly, “i never wanted to hurt you, y/n,”

“but you did, sicheng!” your voice was full of ache, “and you kept on doing it. every time, sicheng… i think i’ve moved on and then you pull me back in. i thought you were getting better but you didn’t. i thought i was too much for asking what we had, you know? you made me feel bad for demanding things that shouldn’t been demanded in the first place,”

he tried to touch your cheek, noticing a tear falling down your eye but you stepped back, “i’m sorry, y/n,”

you shook your head, “just stop, sicheng. please?”

the final break up, or the closure (like what your manager likes to call it), wasn’t loud or dramatic. it was quiet, mature, and comforting. it was like a song fading out. the first weeks, he kept on calling, begging you to stay by his side but you know that if you did, you’ll be back in the cycle that favors him the most, the type where you lose yourself in the process.

so, you stopped answering his calls and eventually, he stopped making them.

the world never really moved on from you and sicheng but the speculations died down. in the end, your album and the series’ excellence were praised by everyone without bringing up the scandalous romantic escapade you had with sicheng.

late at night, when you stared out at the city lights, the memories still lingered, soft yet cutting. despite knowing how disastrous it was to love him, you had returned again and again, hoping for something more… something that he wasn’t ready to give you despite him telling you to try it with him.

and in the end, you let him slip through your fingers, even as your heart begged you to hold on just one more time. because beneath the longing for his touch and warmth, you know it had to end at some point.

COMING UP NEXT. “yangyang worked his ass off in this industry, the nepo baby got it because of her parents! sure, she acts well… but y’know, their vision in life might be different… maybe that’s why they didn’t become a real couple,”

67 notes · View notes

blondiedae · 2 months ago

Text

dry house, wet clothes (two)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, two

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing, groping, smut tags will be added when it applies. big miscommunication trope, it is what it is. it’s so much angst i’m so sorry

word count. 10,247

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. mark lee, dong sicheng (winwin), na jaemin, lee jeno, huang renjun, lee donghyuck (haechan), kim jungwoo

author's note. saying mark is just mentioned isn’t doing him justice, mark lee is just as much a part of this as the three main characters. here’s part two, enjoy!

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno

playlist. here !

Johnny was waiting for you under the marquee.

“Hey you.” His fingers wrapped around a single white rose, “For you.”

You took it, “You got me a flower?”

“A white rose.”

“I see that.”

He titled his head and pointed, “Do you know what it means?”

“The rose? No.”

Johnny told you, “Innocence and new love.”

“Love again, Johnny?” Pretending to wince, you turned from him and started towards the doors, “This is slowing down your two week time frame.”

You could hear him laugh, his feet padding against the concrete, and then Johnny was standing right next to you. He grabbed the door handle with one hand, ushering you in with the other, “Maybe. But, I have to establish that this is a date and not just us hanging out.”

You looked at him, only briefly, over your shoulder, “I know it’s a date.”

Johnny stepped into the line of people waiting for tickets, hand still on your back, “Do you?”

“Do you?”

He grinned, “Of course I know it’s a date. I’m the one who asked.”

“Not that.” The flower twirled between your fingers; innocence and new love. The weight of the knowledge that Johnny had much longer to process any changing feelings was heavy. Throughout the day, that weight only grew and settled on your shoulders like it was taunting you, dragging out your every move. It was fine enough to joke about it, but the reality of an actual date coupled with kisses you wished wouldn’t end and a single white rose made you pause. You looked up at him, that look that look that look he gave you was hypnotizing, dizzying, different but still nice. So, you clarified, “Do you love me?”

It was enough to make Johnny pause, too. It was enough to make him look away from you in thought. You wondered if it was enough to make him feel the same kind of weight that you did, but you guessed not when he shrugged, “I don’t know.”

For some reason, his answer didn’t settle like it should have. It didn’t bring you any sort of ease or comfort, it almost stung. He was so sure, as always, as promised. You weren’t sure you even wanted him to love you, because the question was still up for debate if you could love or even romantically like him.

The line shifted, you both followed, “Then let’s make a deal. We don’t mention the word love until one of us - either one of us - knows.”

Johnny agreed, “Okay. Deal.”

The line shifted once more, and again, and again until you two were at the counter. Johnny got the tickets, handing yours over and settling his hand on your shoulder, this time, to lead you towards snacks. After a moment of silence in the concession line, Johnny told you, “I could, though. I won’t mention it again, but I could.”

“You could what?”

“Love you.” He squeezed your arm, stepping up to the counter and leaving you behind him. You waited for him to order and pay, fiddling with the flower and staring after him. Johnny was back at your side, passing you a bag of popcorn and leading you away again before adding, “But, I promise I won’t bring it up anymore. We’re theater five, right?”

You nodded; an acknowledgement and a confirmation in one gesture. Johnny stole some of the popcorn, both of you weaving through the crowd, and that was that.

The movie was fine, better than the night before. You wanted to tell Jaehyun that Johnny could, in fact, pick decent movies. The thought, while Johnny’s fingers were laced through yours, made you still. The thought, while Johnny kept you close and led the way through the crowds of dispersing movie goers, made you shiver. The thought of Jaehyun while Johnny smiled down at you and rubbed gentle circles onto the back of your hands made you feel so incredibly guilty.

You begged your mind to stop, if only for the night. Begged your mind to take note of your feet, where they stood, and ground you there. You pleaded with the thoughts, asking them to slip into the shadows and respect where your body was; standing next to Johnny, holding the rose in between your hand and his, wandering through a park in comfortable silence.

“What’s on your mind?” Johnny bumped you with his shoulder, your steps were perfectly lined up; he was taking smaller strides to match you. It didn’t go unnoticed, “You're up in your head. I want to be selfish and remind you that you should be on Earth. With me.”

You looked at him, maybe in complete awe, because, “That’s exactly what I was thinking about.”

Johnny stopped and tapped your forehead, “Then get out of there.”

You laughed before nodding up at him, “Okay, I’m back.”

Johnny laughed, too, “Can I ask why you were stuck up there?”

“You want me to get stuck again?”

You couldn’t tell him. Of course, he did not and could not know that. Johnny shook his head, “Absolutely not.”

“It’s just…” You twisted your lips in thought, nose scrunching and eyes searching for an answer in the park benches, cobblestones, trees and wilting flowers around you, “It’s still a lot to take in, you know?”

“You keep saying that.” He was giving you that look again. You wondered how many identical looks, just like that, you’d missed in the last six months; wondered if noticing them would have changed anything, “Is it too much?”

“I don’t think so. It’s only been twenty-four hours.”

“So, time will help?”

“Time will help.” Johnny licked his lips, likely tasting the lingering movie theater butter. You followed the path of his tongue, maybe too focused on something you’d never considered before. Then, you asked him, “Have you always kissed like that?”

Johnny couldn’t stop himself from chuckling, head tilted towards the stars and his hand flat against his stomach, “As far as I know, yeah.”

“Damn. If only I had known that sooner.”

He raised an eyebrow, “How much sooner?”

“Hm.” You twirled the rose, now hanging loosely in your hand, alone, “Remember when you tried to kiss me under the mistletoe?”

“Which time?”

“The first time. At the winter dance.”

“That far back?” Johnny mimicked shock, leaning back and widening his eyes. He quickly shook his head, “I don’t think I was that good, back then. You had a pretty good reason not to, anyway.”

“Oh God. Don’t bring that up.”

“Don’t bring up what?” He was taunting you, he always did. Johnny started walking again, waiting for you to catch on and catch up, “Don’t bring up Sicheng?”

“I’m begging you.”

“Dong Sicheng.” He mulled over the name, his steps wide, but slow. Like he was walking to a beat only Johnny could hear, “That breakup was brutal. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry like that.”

You laughed a bit, though it was rooted in truth, “He broke my heart, Johnny.”

Johnny laughed too, “He extended his exchange program for as long as they’d let him. What was he supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Not move back, I guess?”

“But if he hadn’t moved back, you probably wouldn’t be here with me, now.”

You shook your head, eyes scanning the ground and your feet and anything but Johnny, “Nah, I don’t think we’d still be together.”

From the moment Dong Sicheng walked into the room, you thought of nothing else. To say you were smitten wasn’t doing your unadulterated infatuation any justice; Sicheng had felt the same. It was a completely different feeling than you’d felt in your adult life, maybe a feeling you’d spent time chasing. It was different, even now, with Johnny. If the girl who had fallen in love with Sicheng was in your current position, she’d have no trouble devoting all her attention to Johnny.

It just wasn’t the case. Age, maturity, perspective or conflicting feelings - whatever it was - changes everything.

Johnny stopped again, breathing out a quiet, “Wow.”

“Wow?”

“In a world where Sicheng didn’t leave, you think you’d still be here? On a date with me?”

You smiled, but shrugged, “Probably.”

Johnny clicked his tongue, “Huh.”

“You’re very convincing. Really good at it, actually.” It suited Johnny to be that way; his encouragement had taken the four of you on a lot of adventures. Even so, even with Johnny pushing you to step out and step up and do something wild, he never did so in a way that felt uncomfortable or forced. You knew him, just as he knew you. All Johnny ever wanted was for people to feel comfortable and welcome, “Also…”

“Also?”

“I trust you.” The smile Johnny gave you when you said that conjured up a butterfly to find a home in the pit of your stomach, like you’d said the most wonderful thing imaginable to him. You faltered a bit, focusing back on the rose, “What?”

Johnny had found a comfortable position leaning against a tree. His arms were crossed over his chest and that same look stayed perfectly on his face, “I know….look, you and I never really speak so deeply. Not without a lot of jokes and not one on one, like this. But, I just want you to know how much that means to me.”

“What? That I trust you?”

He nodded, “Also that you’d pick me over Sicheng.”

“Oh my God.” Your eyes rolled back, amused but imitating annoyance, “I didn’t say that.”

“You implied it.” He paused, “I’m serious, though. It really…means everything to me.”

“Can I ask you something? In the spirit of talking seriously?”

“Go ahead.”

You let out a held breath, calming the newly formed butterfly and seeking out courage, “If this doesn’t work out…if we try and it goes wrong or it just doesn’t go right, will we still be friends?”

“Yes.”

He didn’t hesitate. You didn’t expect him to, but it still rattled the butterfly into a frenzy, once more. A smile crept onto your lips, a sense of security you had been seeking for the last twenty-four hours or more. The worst thing that could result from this was losing Johnny; losing any of the three of them, really. Knowing he’d still be around eased your mind, a pinch.

“Good.”

He stepped towards you, “But, can we make another deal?”

“Mhm.”

“Try not to think about it ending before it’s even started, okay?” Johnny’s eyes looked directly into yours, unblinking and shining and warm, “Give me as much of a chance as you can. If you need me to pull back, just tell me. But, don’t think of the end just yet. Can we do that?”

You wanted to blink, the fall wind nipping at your eyes. There was a part of you that was afraid to; afraid to blink and miss this moment, maybe blink it away entirely. You kept staring, your smile growing wider as you nodded and scrunched your nose, “Deal. I can do that.”

Johnny waited a moment before he leaned closer, lips hovering over yours. He watched out, carefully and quietly, and asked in a whisper, “Pull back?”

You didn’t answer him, not vocally. Instead, you closed the distance between you and kissed his lips.

📻

It was the same every weekend. The four of you would find your way back to the loft, one by one, after a week of working and, for Mark, classes. You’d mingle and laugh and review the events of the week. You’d drink and dance and stay up well into the morning, like you were all still teenagers. Eventually, you’d melt into the same, familiar pile on the mattress; a mess of intertwined limbs, pillows and warm blankets. The stars would shine above you and you’d fall asleep, counting them and counting breaths and holding onto the moments of silence in your favorite place.

You were the first to arrive this week.

The loft was impossibly still, leaves slipped off tree branches and bounced across the panes of glass; scraping and sliding and slipping away to the ground. You lost track of time, sitting there with your hands in your lap, headphones whispering your favorite tune just for you, watching fall sweep away any traces of summer. Time always moved too fast, outside of the loft, it slipped away like the leaves. But, inside, wrapped in your favorite blanket, with your favorite people, in your favorite place, everything slowed down.

You felt nostalgic and eager all at once.

Every inch of the loft held a memory, but every night spent here built more and more on top of those memories, making it impossible not to cherish every minute.

Jaehyun came after you, startling only for a second seeing you in the middle of the floor. You smiled at him, he smiled back, but you didn’t move or take your headphones out. Jaehyun just joined you, leaning close enough that he could hear the music, too, and staring at the same leaves, the same gusts of wind, the same remarkable nothing you’d been looking at.

It was easy to be silent with Jaehyun. It had always been. The two of you had perfected communicating in glances, in pointed looks, in shrugs and in smiles. So, in those moments where you felt something would be, should be, could be said but you failed to find the right words, you’d look to Jaehyun. You would stay silent and he would know exactly what you meant in the way you blinked, the tilt of your head, the slump of your shoulders.

You’d do the same for him, always always always.

You’d always have your eyes on Jaehyun, in case he needed to say something without saying it. In the moments he needed to be heard while staying silent. In the moments Jaehyun needed to be read. The thought reminded you how hard it had been to read him, less than a week ago. The corner of his lips, so close to you now and perfectly in view, was taunting and daunting and upturned.

Jaehyun looked at you. You didn’t know when you’d stopped watching the leaves and turned your attention towards him, maybe when the woman in your ears crooned, softly, “And I said, I love this boy so much.” Maybe it was the way she repeated it, four times, and how you were almost certain Jaehyun could hear it.

But, even if he could hear it, even if he was listening, would he ever really hear what she was saying. Would he ever feel the moments when you couldn’t stop your hands from shaking in his. Would he ever feel the way your heart beat when he held you close and urged you to sleep, truly sleep. Would Jaehyun ever feel any of it? If he did, would Jaehyun feel the same. And, if he did, would Jaehyun ever do anything about it.

You blinked, slowly altering your expression before he caught on and it worried him, “How was work?”

He had tossed his jacket to the side when he came in and loosened his tie around his neck, three buttons as well. He looked intentionally disheveled and tired, but he always looked like this, come Friday afternoon.

Jaehyun only shrugged, pulling one of your earbuds out and putting it into his own ear, “It was fine. Did you finish your book?”

“No.” Your tongue threatened to spill the secrets of your week, the reason you were behind on work and hesitated to answer his calls, text him back, even think of Jaehyun. Johnny. You had to hold yourself back from telling Jaehyun I spent a fair amount of time making out with Johnny. Looking away from Jaehyun, down at where your hands flirted with the idea of touching, you sighed, “I was really distracted this week.”

Jaehyun almost asked why, but his stomach twisted into knots at the potential answer. Since Sunday, since you told him Johnny confessed, you two had never addressed the subject again. Things went back to normal and Jaehyun convinced himself that because you hadn’t asked for his input, it meant you’d come to a conclusion on your own. He hoped the conclusion was not to date Johnny and he hated that hope. Johnny was perfectly fine, Johnny knew you, Johnny would no doubt take care of you and Jaehyun had watched you date other men before. He had managed just fine, then.

This time felt exponentially different to him. To both of you.

Jaehyun didn’t want to believe what he knew to be true; he was jealous that, if you decided to date one of your friends, it wasn’t him.

He didn’t want the clarification, he didn’t want to know more unless he had to. So, Jaehyun wouldn’t ask. He’d stay silent and he’d behave as he normally would; he’d hold your hand and hold you close and Jaehyun would tell you everything he could without saying it outright. He wouldn’t ask. He wouldn’t ask a thing.

In stopping his question, his lips failed to block his statement. Something he couldn’t tell you with a look, a smile, a sigh. A simple observation, as he watched you, “You look really beautiful, right now.”

He meant it. The sun had formed a halo around your head as it slipped behind some clouds, closer and closer to setting. Your cream colored sweater hung loose on your body, Jaehyun guessed it fit like that because it wasn’t your sweater, to begin with. It could’ve been his, maybe Johnny’s, he was almost certain he’d seen Mark wearing that same sweater two weeks ago when the weather first shifted. Either way, it suited you; the color, the fit, the halo of light. You did look truly so beautiful to him.

So, he meant it. And he said it. And Jaehyun didn’t really try to take it back or hide it, because the way you smiled at him before looking away again was enough to stop his heart. It was enough to make you glow even more, if possible.

You smiled and opened your mouth to say something once, twice. The only thing that came out was a laugh, one that Jaehyun echoed.

“Hand.” Jaehyun turned his palm upwards, holding his hand out to you. You took it, you always took it, you would always take it, “Tell me about the book.”

You sighed, leaning to rest your head on his shoulder, “It’s so….boring.”

His body shook with another short laugh underneath you, and it was impossible for you to keep your own laugh at bay. Jaehyun asked, “What’s it about?”

“Not a clue.” You peeked at him, taking in what part of his face you could. The way his hair was pushed away from his face, covering the tips of his ears. He’d kept it long since the spring, it suited him, “I’m sixteen chapters in, out of forty-three, and I have no idea what is going on.”

“Who wrote it?”

“Mm, someone named Lee Donghyuck? His pen name is Lee Haechan.” You let out a short groan, focusing on your hands in his lap, “I feel bad, it’s his first book. He’s younger than Mark and it’s not that he’s a bad writer, I just….”

“You’ve been distracted.” Jaehyun repeated. He was right. He still didn’t know why he was right, you still didn’t want to tell him. So, you both stayed silent for a moment, “Clear your head this weekend. Start over on Monday.”

“And if that doesn’t work? My deadline is in two weeks.”

Jaehyun thought for a moment, wind shook the windows and the song playing for the two of you stopped, a different tune following immediately after, “Read it to me.”

“Read the book to you?” He only nodded, hand still firmly in yours, “You don’t have to do that, Jae.”

“I want to.”

“You’re really going to hate it.”

He shrugged his shoulders, a second time since he’d been home. Jaehyun looked down at you, with his recently unreadable expression, “Not if you’re reading it.”

It was so easy for him to make your heart stop and it was even worse that he didn’t have a clue that he did it. You sat upright, leaning away from him again and listening to your music too intently; the world outside of the loft, moving at the speed of light, suddenly seemed more interesting. Like you’d rather be standing in chaos, overwhelmed, than sitting so close to Jaehyun that he might hear your heart falter or stop all together.

“What are we going to do tonight?” You asked, picking at the blanket on your lap, “Did we have a plan today? I know Mark wanted to go to the park tomorrow. I guess there’s a busking thing he wants to go to.”

Jaehyun shrugged again, the third time, “I don’t think there’s a plan, but the fridge is empty from last weekend. So, someone is going to have to go on a grocery run.”

“I can do that.” Johnny said from the door. He had a backpack slung over his shoulder, still in his white shirt and black pants from work. He smiled at the two of you, dropping his pack on the floor next to Jaehyun’s discarded jacket and tucking his hands into his pockets, “Who wants to come with?”

Mark came up behind him, “I don’t want to go. I’ve been walking all day.”

The youngest flopped down on the mattress, spreading out as wide as he could. You had been smiling at Mark, half listening to Jaehyun tell Johnny he didn’t want to go but he’d pitch in. The album you’d been listening to had looped and reshuffled and repeated, playing the same song. When Jaehyun turned to you, to ask if you wanted to go with Johnny, you could hear her again, “And I said, I love this boy so much.”

Jaehyun heard it too, clearly this time and not muffled. If he visibly faltered, you missed it, but he could feel his heart flip in his chest at the way you looked at him, at the way his breath caught. His mind split in two; he let himself find a new hope that maybe that look was because you were thinking of him and choked down the thought that it could have been Johnny in your mind. Jaehyun couldn’t stop himself from wondering if you thought of him when you listened to these songs or if you thought of Johnny. The woman singing hadn’t even said the line a second time before Jaehyun composed himself, but that split second felt like a lifetime of the two of you looking at each other while she sang something only you two could hear.

Jaehyun cleared his throat and said to you, “You’ve been here the longest, you should go with Johnny.”

Christ, the last thing he wanted you to do was go with Johnny. Jaehyun somehow made himself say it, made himself calm and collected and remained grateful that his hair was covering his heated ears. You nodded, standing and adjusting your clothes, your hair, fidgeting to avoid thinking.

You circled around the thought that it seemed so easy for Jaehyun to encourage you to be near or with Johnny and that, maybe, he would never feel what you did.

Jaehyun pulled out his wallet, handing you his card, “You know the code.”

You mumbled, “Yeah.” Then put out your other hand for your earbud. Jaehyun stared at it for a moment before he remembered. She was singing, longing and breathy, “I want to get to you” when he pulled the bud from his ear and dropped it in your hand. You smiled and looked at Johnny, “Is it cold out?”

He shrugged and wiggled his hand in a noncommittal gesture to answer, “You want my jacket?”

Johnny had started to squat, reaching for his bag. Jaehyun stopped him, telling you casually, “Just take mine. It’s already out.”

So, you did. You slipped it on and held your breath as long as you could to avoid breathing him in. Mark was all but passed out on the mattress, Jaehyun had busied himself on his phone and Johnny was opening the door for you to step out onto the rooftop of Jaehyun’s childhood home. The two of you left, without a word. You changed the music playing in your ears, something more upbeat, and offered Johnny the other earbud. He took it, took in the music and took your hand, twirling you down the street. It was like the spin pulled you out of your head, the counteracting swirls of thought and movement clashing enough to pull you back to Earth.

That’s where Johnny wanted you, dancing down the street with him to a song you both knew. That’s where you should be, where you wanted to be. Still, you looked over your shoulder up at the loft. It was surrounded by clouds, a cool-toned sunset forming behind them. The loft was floating above the rest of the world, hovering over you and Johnny and the street you danced down. If Jaehyun was watching, you couldn’t see him and maybe that was for the best. Maybe it would allow you to be the version of you Johnny deserves; the one Sicheng got in the sense that Johnny suddenly had all your attention. Here. On Earth.

And the grip he had on your hand, loose but leading, helped pull you back down to the ground.

“Smart move.” Mark’s voice was muffled by the pillow he had smushed his face against, but Jaehyun heard him well enough, “Give them alone time.”

“Huh?” It was simple enough to play dumb, especially when Mark was barely awake and not looking, “I’m just too tired to walk to the store.”

Mark didn’t answer, already snoring as soon as he’d stopped speaking. Jaehyun waited until he knew you were a safe enough distance away to look down at the street. Johnny had your hand in his, swinging it wildly and pulling you in and out of spins, dips and lifts. Jaehyun felt like he was watching you from the clouds, watching you live a life separate from him. He’d always been right there with you, grounded on Earth at your side. Instead, he was floating above and watching.

He hated the feeling more than he could ever say. But, he urged himself away from the ledge of seething anger, uncontrollable jealousy, when he saw you turn around and look up at the loft. When Jaehyun saw you looking up towards the clouds, up towards him.

So long as you did that, you’d tug on his heart to hope.

📻

You weighed the options in your hand, the fluorescent lights of the corner store shining down on you and the two bottles of Soju in your hand. Johnny had wandered off to another aisle, some time ago, finishing up what you came here to do. You could hear the clank of glass bottles and his voice before you saw him at the end of the aisle, leaning against the shelf and smiling at you, “God, I really hate when people do this?”

You didn’t look up, “Do what?”

“When they don’t put things back where they go.” Johnny took five long strides to get to you. He sighed, as obnoxiously as you imagined he could manage and mostly to get your attention, “Like why is there a snack in the drink aisle?”

“What?” Finally you looked up. The expression on Johnny’s face was pride, if you had ever seen it. Still, you looked around the aisle expecting to see a wayward bag of chips or a misplaced candy bar. Johnny pointed directly at you, still as proud. You groaned with realization, putting one bottle back and stepping around him, “Please get away from me.”

Johnny laughed, the sound breaking the silence in the otherwise quiet convenience store, “That was clever. It took me the entire walk to and from the chip aisle to come up with that.”

“Do people still say that? Snack?”

“It was appropriate for the setting.”

He was following behind you, bottles tapping against each other in the basket, “I’m going to start keeping a tally of the corny things you say.”

“What’s the breaking point?” He asked, coming up beside you, “For the tally?”

“I don’t know yet.” You couldn’t help but laugh, tucking your shampoo into the basket and turning down another aisle to head towards the cashier. Johnny followed, once more, “Maybe ten.”

“Ten, huh?”

“Six?”

He paused, “Wait a minute. What do I lose if I get to ten?”

“Maybe six.”

“What do I lose?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know that yet, either.”

“So, it’s an empty threat?” Johnny leaned in, nose close to brushing yours, “That’s not gonna stop me.”

“It should.” You kept walking, greeting the cashier and waiting for Johnny to pile everything on the counter. He watched you pay, handing Jaehyun’s card over and politely thanking the cashier for what Johnny counted was the third time since you two had been in the store. He followed you out, nodding his head in a bow to the employee and carrying two of the three bags. You looked at him, over your shoulder, “Come on.”

He smiled, didn’t say anything for a while, but walked faster instead of trailing behind. He didn’t mind the view from either point, but Johnny did think it was important for him to note and for you to know, “You look beautiful.”

You didn’t hesitate to say, “Thank you.”

You didn’t shy away from Johnny or look down at your hand, the bag in it or the ground underneath it. You just accepted it as he wanted you to. Johnny thought you looked beautiful and it was as simple as that. He nudged your shoulder, “You look better in my jacket, but you still look good in Jae’s jacket and Mark’s sweater.”

“I thought this was your sweater?” Your eyebrow raised, lifting the fabric as though it would tell you the answer, “It’s Mark’s?”

Johnny didn’t answer, “Did you wear what you thought was my sweater because you knew you were seeing me?”

Immediately, your cheeks were burning and your mouth dropped open. The answer was not consciously, no. But, since Johnny had pointed it out, you felt only slightly shy. You tilted your head up, looking for a distraction in the stars and any breeze to cool your heated face. You could hear Johnny laugh, then heard him rustling his two bags just to your left before you felt his hand slip into yours. His lips were close to your ear when he said, “You look even more beautiful when you get flustered, like that.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, “Yeah. And, before we get too close to the loft and go back to pretending this week didn’t happen…” He didn’t sound bitter, but his words still nipped at you. You wanted to not want to pretend, but finding your footing in this was hard enough. Adding an audience would make it harder, especially when Jaehyun would have a front row seat. You looked up at Johnny, all the same, hoping you knew what he was about to ask. He pulled you to a stop, looking down at you and smiling, “Can I please kiss you? It’s been three days.”

“Oh no. Are you feeling….” You bit back a quiet laugh at your own joke, “peckish?”

To say Johnny looked offended, to say he looked shocked, wouldn’t do his expression any justice. He dropped your hand to hold his heart, “Do I need to start keeping a tally, too?”

“For what? You said I’m a snack, you want to kiss me.” You scrunched your nose, too clever for your own good, “So, obviously you’re feeling peckish.”

“You get to be corny but I can’t?”

Once more, your shoulders lifted in a shrug, “If you did it in moderation, maybe.”

“I’m going to kiss you, now.”

“Okay. Peck away.”

Johnny’s lips on yours was the furthest thing from a peck. It took your breath away immediately, eliminated any wit or snark or simple thought from your mind until all you could do was move your lips against his. You wondered if you had forgotten, in the last three days, what it was like to kiss Johnny. If maybe restraint had wiped your memory of it clean. But, this felt so different from what you remembered. Johnny kissed you like he might never get to again, like you were slipping away from him, like he was going to stop and you’d be gone. You’d never be able to know why, but it felt too good to dwell on the thoughts that might unravel the truth.

Johnny’s hands fiddled with the bag in yours until he’d taken all three of them in one of his hands. He broke away from you only to place them gently on the ground, enough time for you to stand breathless but never to catch your breath. He pulled you closer, flush against him and tucked away in the limbo between street lamps. His hands held your waist, slowly inching down and down and down until he stopped to ask you, “Pull back?”

You shook your head, but you both had your eyes closed. So, you breathed out, “No.” The sound caught in your throat, barely making it past your kiss-swollen lips.

Johnny’s hands fell to cup your ass, bringing you even closer if it was possible and pulling a moan out of your lips. You could feel him smirk, feel that prideful look creep back onto his face. The only sound was his breathing, your breathing, the rustle of the bags in the wind and the wet sound of your lips and your tongues together, together, together.

“Johnny.” His name on your lips sent him spiraling; sweeter than any treat he’d been given, any candy, cake or chocolate Johnny had tasted in his life paled in comparison to that sound. He groped at you, another moan that sounded almost as sweet, “Fuck.”

“Are you okay?” He was panting, kisses slowing but never stopping, his eyes still closed, “Do you want me to stop?”

Your instinct was to say no, maybe pull him down the alley that would lead to your house instead of the loft. Johnny, in his truest form, was urging you to be reckless and wild and out of any comfort zone you’d been in. But, you pulled back and told him, “We’ve been gone too long.”

He still didn’t open his eyes, forehead against yours while he caught his breath, “Give me a second.”

“Okay.” You held into him, giving him support to gather himself while he did the same to you. You kissed his cheek, his jaw, his neck, tugging on his hair while your mind screamed for you to stop. To pause. To slow down. Your body took longer to listen, Johnny’s as well, “We should go.”

His breathing had evened out, Johnny pulled away. If you looked anything like he did, you’d give yourselves always as soon as you stepped foot into the loft. You adjusted Johnny’s collar, he fixed your hair. You smoothed down his hair, he wiped away the smudged mascara on your cheeks. Johnny turned and picked up all three bags, offering you his hand. You held it only until you reached Jaehyun’s street, offering him your earbud once more but opting for walking instead of dancing.

You both broke away, him spinning you out and dropping your hand, as you rounded the corner and came into view. It didn’t stop the glances between the two of you. Your heart fluttered with the secret of his lips on yours, his hands on you, the sound of his whimpers and moans. If you had ever told yourself you’d been in the position with Johnny, at any point in your life, it would have been almost impossible to believe.

But, looking at him looking at you, feeling the heat rush back to your cheeks at your most recent memory of Johnny’s lips on yours, you might have started believing in impossible things.

It felt nice.

📻

The sun took time to come up; unfolding itself from lingering and new clouds, rolling itself over the tops of buildings and filling the loft - inch by inch - with light. You watched the particles of dust dancing in the sunbeams for a while, softly twirling Mark’s hair. The strands coiled around your fingertips, having curled and twisted more as he slept. Johnny’s chest rose and fell underneath your head, somehow you had shifted further down in the night. You could hear his heart beating, even and soft.

Jaehyun was to your left, as he always was, hand in yours and snoring softly. His head was turned towards you, lips almost pressed against your exposed shoulder - Mark’s sweater was too hot to sleep in. You could feel Jaehyun’s breath, the moment it shifted from steady to short, waking breaths. He blinked a few times, taking in the morning, taking in you. Just as he had the week before, exactly a week ago. Jaehyun squeezed your hand and smiled, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, you wanted to scoot closer. You wanted a reason to be closer to Jaehyun. You didn’t dare move too much, didn’t dare wake up Johnny and Mark, “My head hurts.”

He reminded you, “We drank too much.”

You recalled bottles falling to the floor, not shattering but landing with percussive taps on the wood. Friday nights to Saturday mornings were always the hardest transition. You pulled your hand from Mark’s hair to cover your eyes, shielding them from the sun coming in. Behind your palm, the memories of music, of laughing, of dancing played. The four of you were scrambling to match your movements to each other so whatever you were doing, chaos disguised as dancing, seemed choreographed. It came in flashes; some quick and clear, some blurred and warped.

“Who fell asleep first?”

Jaehyun looked up, through his mussed hair and over the top of his pillow. He nodded towards your own pillow, “Johnny did.”

You said, “He has to make breakfast, then.”

“I’m not making breakfast.”

“You’re awake?”

Johnny grumbled, “You talk too loud.”

“We were whispering.”

He tapped the top of your head, urging you to lift it. Johnny stretched up and out, his arm landing between your head and Jaehyun’s for a moment. He rolled away from the pile, coming to sit up on his knees, “Mark technically fell asleep first.”

“He was napping. It doesn’t count.” You turned your head as much as you could to look at Johnny. He was watching you with a sleepy smile, hands pushing back his hair. Next to you, Jaehyun closed his eyes, fingers tapping against the back of your hand. You smiled back at Johnny, “Wake him up to help.”

“You’re not going to help?” It wasn’t a pout, but it came close. Johnny yawned, head falling back, “Fine. Mark, wake up.”

From his place, nuzzled against your stomach, Mark grumbled, “No.”

“We have to make breakfast.”

“No. You have to make breakfast.” He settled himself in more, reaching up for your hand to place it back in his hair, “You fell asleep first.”

Five minutes of bickering and bribing before Mark pulled himself up and away from the mattress. You and Jaehyun stayed, hands still together. It took a moment for the morning to sink in, the quiet of it without your music and without any other noise than your breathing. You’d spent more time being conscious in the daylight, today, than the three of them had, but Saturday was still just as fresh to you. The sun, having rested from the week, was refreshed and kissed your skin in a way it only did on the weekend. The air felt different, the silence felt different.

Maybe it was the way your head was pounding, maybe it was the way you needed to ground yourself again. Maybe the alcohol from the night before had yet to wear off. Either way, whatever reason, you rolled onto your side to face Jaehyun. When he looked back towards you, turning his attention away from the sky and focusing on your body next to his, you pressed your forehead against his and closed your eyes.

Jaehyun smiled, his dimples diving into his cheeks, his nose creasing at the bridge. If you had seen it, you might have melted. He took you in, really took you in; your chest rising and falling, the small smile tugging at your lips, how your hair had come loose from its hold in the night. You’d been restless in your sleep again. Jaehyun kept pulling you back down and towards him in the moments you shifted or squirmed.

It always seemed like the natural thing to do, the natural progression of things in your relationship. The shared birthday parties that lead to sleepovers that lead to tracing constellations on your skin that lead to silent conversations that lead to an understanding of each other that was impossible to breach. It was natural.

Without much thought, without a word, Jaehyun pulled back to press a kiss on your forehead. He was quick to put his forehead back against yours, back where you decided it needed to be on a fall, Saturday morning, “Bad dream?”

You didn’t answer, you didn’t need to and your tongue was tied in your mouth, so you didn’t think you could. Instead you held your breath and shook your head, slowly. Jaehyun lifted his other hand, smoothing down your hair before resting it on your arm. After a moment of soft circles on your skin, he scooted himself closer to you. You moved, too, closing the space. The natural progression of things.

“I’m so hungry.”

He secured you in his arms, “They’re probably destroying the kitchen.”

“I don’t want to help.”

Jaehyun breathed out, “Me either.”

You could hear the soft hum of music from two floors down, the clattering of pots and pans and Johnny instructing Mark on what to do. Only fifteen minutes had passed when it was all interrupted by the sound of smoke alarms blaring. You opened your eyes, finally. Jaehyun blinked at you, you blinked back. Both of you sighed, pushing yourselves up and pulling apart. It was decided, in two blinks, that the two of you didn’t have a choice but to help. A silent conversation, a natural progression. So, you stood and Jaehyun handed you his sweatshirt he’d changed into, last night, to keep you warm from the loft to the kitchen.

Johnny saw you first, a smile on his face as he popped a grape into his mouth, “Mark burnt the pancakes.”

“Of course he did.” Jaehyun laughed but was quick to help Mark. The youngest was pushing something around in a pan, brow furrowed in a mix of concentration and confusion, “Go mix more batter.”

Mark backed away, “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, Mark.” You told him. He knew, of course. Mark adjusted his glasses, taking a spot next to Johnny and reaching for the whisk. You put your hands on Mark’s waist, stepping around him, “Look out.”

Pushing open the window over the sink, you ushered the smoke filled air outside and hoped it would quiet the alarms. It didn’t. So, grabbing a kitchen towel, you went down the hall to the detector, stood on your tiptoes and fanned the air around it.

“Here.” Johnny’s voice was directly in your ear. You could smell the oranges he had been cutting, the scent breaking through that of burning batter and smoke. His hands held onto your hips and Johnny lifted you up, slightly, so you were closer to the ceiling, “I’ve got you.”

The beeping stopped, he lowered you down, “Thanks.”

He told you, “Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Johnny kept his hands firmly on your hips, asking, “Do you have your phone on you?”

You nodded, “Yeah, why?”

He didn’t answer, but took the kitchen towel from you and took a step down the short hallway, still looking at you, “Do you like this song?”

Since you had been downstairs, the music had been too soft under the shrieking alarm, the clatter of pans and spoons and bowls, Jaehyun instructing Mark from a distance. The sounds had all mixed together until one by one they were eliminated. Now, it was just the music, twisting around the corner and coming down the hall from where Johnny’s speaker sat on the counter. He watched you, taking in the song for the first time. After a moment, you nodded your head.

“It’s nice.” You decided, “Why?”

Johnny didn’t say anything after that, he only nodded back and turned completely to walk the rest of the way into the kitchen. You could see him stick his hand in his pocket, pull out his phone, tap something on it and then put it back. And you probably should have predicted it, but you still jumped a bit when your own phone went off in the pocket of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt. Your eyes rolled back, taking it out and taking a few steps, “Johnny, what the fuck? Just tell me…”

You stopped yourself, only in his line of sight for the time being. The message on your phone made your heart skip in the way his smile had been, the way his kisses did; that secretive tingle that rustled butterfly wings to flight in your stomach. Johnny watched you, every second you stared at your phone - only a few, but long enough. You faltered between a smile and neutrality, tapping on the link; a playlist of about thirty songs, the title of it was simply your name.

Finally, you looked up at Johnny. He chomped on another grape, but quickly and silently mouthed, “You’re blushing again.”

📻

“If her sister was bright, shining and vibrant, then she was the sun - so intensely beaming, that nothing could rival her.” You turned the page with a sigh, “He would always dare to look directly at her; happy to go blind if it meant he could be so close.”

Jaehyun had his head on your lap, “That’s the end of the first chapter?”

“It’s the middle of it.”

The blanket underneath the two of you whipped about in the wind, calming and bunching around your legs. Jaehyun pulled it out, smoothing it down again before he sighed, as well, “It’s not…that bad.”

“It’s really not.” Around you, the hum of the busking festival filled the air; guitars and stereos, drumbeats and vendors shouting. It was a chaotic mix of sound and smells and sights. Mark and Johnny were lost somewhere in the middle of it, “It’s just so…”

“Wordy.”

“Wordy.” You agreed, tapping Jaehyun in the middle of his forehead, “And he’s spent almost the entirety of the first chapter describing how perfect she is, which is frustrating.”

At that, Jaehyun shook his head. He kept his eyes closed, settled and comfortable in your lap, but you could tell he was thinking, mulling over the words you’d spent the last half hour reading and deciding on saying, “I don’t think that’s it. She’s not perfect, it’s just how the narrator views her. He’s in love with her, so he sees the best parts of her.”

Leaning back to rest your head on the tree behind you, you hummed, “Does love always mean only seeing the good, though?”

Jaehyun shook his head, “No. But, you’re only halfway through the first chapter and there’s forty-three of them. Maybe the bad will come out.”

You looked at Jaehyun, your fingers tugging lightly at strands of his hair. You watched as he swallowed and his cheeks gave way to his dimples, just for a second, unaware in such a blissful way on your lap, “Have you ever loved someone like that? That they were the sun and you’d willingly go blind looking at them?”

Jaehyun didn’t hesitate to say, “Yes.”

Behind closed eyes, he thought about you the night before; how the sun was blaring behind you, in its final stretch of light, and how he’d stare as long as he could to see that halo of light around you. He could feel you shift underneath him, the way your breathing changed and, for only a second, Jaehyun thought about telling you. He could tell you, he could tell you everything; that it was you he’d stare into the sun for. You were the sun. His heart leapt into his chest while yours sunk to the ground, words weighing heavy on the tips of both your tongues.

You gnawed at your lip to keep questions at bay; who was it he loved so much, why had he never told you? Who filled him with the same warmth as the sun, who made him burn? You kept your eyes down, watching Jaehyun and how the sunbeams slipped through the sparse leaves to dance across his face. You didn’t have to stare into the sun for him, the sun followed Jaehyun wherever he went; lighting him up perfectly in front of you.

Still, you looked up. You heard leaves crunching behind you and you looked up, towards the sun, following two pairs of feet until you saw him; Johnny. Surrounded by light, beams hugging the outline of his body and wrapping him in light. His smile was radiant, “There you are.”

Jaehyun opened his eyes, shielding them from the bits of light breaking through the Johnny-and-Mark shaped barrier. He watched you, the way you willingly looked up at Johnny through squinted eyes, despite the sun. Jaehyun was reminded of your conversation almost a week ago and he cursed himself for claiming support. Maybe he always would. Even still, he sat up, wiped his palms on his pants and scooted away from you.

Jaehyun looked up at Mark, not glancing at Johnny, and asked, “Did you guys find food?”

“Here.” Mark handed over something in a paper boat, plopping down on the blanket next to you while Johnny stepped around the blanket to sit next to Jaehyun, across from you. Mark bit at a french fry, smiling and bobbing his head to distant music, “It’s fun, right? I didn’t expect it to be so big.”

“I don’t think any of us knew what to expect.” Johnny handed you a drink from the carrier looped around his wrist. He looked at Mark with a teasing grin, sipping on his own drink, “You're really bad at explaining things.”

Mark’s mouth was full, “I am not.”

Jaehyun smiled, joining in on teasing Mark, “You called it a “busking thing” and it’s a whole festival.”

“There are buskers!” The youngest defended himself, “That’s what the flyers said.”

Johnny sipped on his own drink, “I almost expected a bunch of your college friends to just be…out here…busking.”

“Why would they do that?” Mark’s eyebrow lifted, his head tilted, he looked identical to a puppy. He almost always did; curious and kind and excitable. But, right now, confused, “Renjun is a linguistics major, Jeno is engineering and Jaemin switched to philosophy last semester. I don’t think any of them have an interest in music.”

“Mark, that’s not…” Johnny started, then released a sigh, “Never mind.”

Jaehyun moved the conversation, nudging Mark and asking, “Jaemin changed majors again?”

With a nod and quick swallow, Mark said, “I think he was trying to impress a girl. He actually really likes it though.”

You asked, “Isn’t he supposed to be graduating in the spring?”

Mark only shrugged, “We’ll see.”

The conversation settled, a new one swelling like the music and ruckus around you. The four of you, tucked under a tree with sparse leaves, munching and mumbling through mouthfuls of food. Mark mentioned a musician he saw, a dance troupe, an artist. You wondered how he could take in so much all at once, all the time. Mark never noticed one thing at a time, he saw every last detail in the world, or at least the things he loved. So, you would all take turns asking the appropriate follow up questions just to watch as the youngest would light up, answering with as many details as he could spare.

Eventually, you’d all picked at the food long enough that it was all scraps and empty cups piled in the middle of the blanket. Jaehyun and Mark stacked and scooped and gathered the trash, and when they wandered away to get rid of it, Johnny looked at you. The sun bounced off his eyes, or maybe it was mischief. Either way, they glistened and your stomach twisted the way it did when Johnny Suh was about to pull you out of comfort. He stood and offered his hand, wiggling his fingers in front of you, “Come on.”

“Why?” You hesitated, he could see it. So, Johnny shook his hand once more and waited until you took it. He pulled you, upright, “What are we doing?”

Johnny laced his fingers with yours, tugging, “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

He was guiding you through the crowds before you could argue with him. Instead, you countered, “That’s barely an answer.”

“An answer would ruin it.” He squeezed your hand, reassuring and comfortable and before you knew it, Johnny stopped, “Dance with me.”

In the middle of the food stalls, all of the organized chaos halted at a dance floor. Groups and couples and individuals twirling, spinning, stepping to the beat of the music from the booth in the corner of the floor. It was Johnny's turn to watch as your eyes sparkled, mouth open and breaking into a smile. He tugged, once more, at your relaxing hand, securing his hold on you to pull you onto the dance floor.

You didn’t have time to tell him no. You didn’t have any desire to tell him no, either. You followed Johnny and stopped when he did, and when the music hit your ears, you fell into step with the crowd and the music and him.

Both of you laughed, half shouting and half singing the lyrics you knew. You spun in a circle around yourself, Johnny countered by circling you; like a planet falling into orbit around the sun. He just watched you and smiled and he was happy to, as long as you looked like that; beaming, blissful, beautiful.

Johnny was caught in his own mind, then, remembering the moment he felt something new looking at you. A moment identical to this one at a party that was like any other, a party Jungwoo had thrown one insignificant day in April. Jungwoo had been fired and he was upset about it and that was a good enough reason, he guessed. A party where you danced like this, with Johnny, in Jungwoo’s kitchen, while everyone else talked or drank or played board games.

Just the two of you in the kitchen.

Johnny was caught in his memory, how his heart swelled and his lips went dry thinking of what it would be like to kiss you. He wavered in and out of past and present, reminding himself that he now knew what that felt like. He’d do it now, if he could. He’d lean down and kiss you, hidden by the crowd and caught up in the music.

The memory pulled him back, thinking of how you’d pulled him in, melted against him, thrown your head back and laughed. Johnny could still feel the vibrations of it against his chest; the vibrations that kick-started his heart after it had paused taking you in. He had said to you, “You’re so drunk.”

“Maybe.” You had laughed, broad grin pulling at red-painted lips, “But I also love this song.”

The sound of your voice cracking, singing a high note in the song, brought him back to the present. You laughed, he laughed and clapped his hands, stumbling back a bit. Your hands caught his arms to pull him away from knocking into someone else and kept pulling until he was against your chest. Once again, you melted. Slower this time, not encouraged by alcohol and restricted by too many eyes. Johnny smiled down at you, “I really want to kiss you.”

“Yeah?” Your voice came out quiet, eyes moving from his to his lips, back to his eyes. You said, again, “Yeah.”

“I shouldn’t, right?” Johnny swallowed, “Not here?”

Part of you wanted him to, still you agreed, “Probably not.”

Johnny said, “I like you.”

It still took you by surprise; as though you didn’t know, as though he hadn’t been telling you, consistently, for a week now. You blinked and tried to breathe, because you might have liked Johnny too, just then. In a different context, but the same way he meant it. You liked kissing Johnny, you liked dancing with Johnny. You liked when he took your hand, when he pulled you safely through crowds, when he smiled at you the way he did. You liked a lot of things about Johnny, so eventually, you might like him, too.

So, in that moment, you said, “I might, too.”

And Johnny grinned. Exactly how you hoped he would, he grinned. Not expectant and not teasing, but shining and pleased, “I can accept might. Might is….really good.”

“Good.”

“I’m going to dip you.”

You shook your head, words mixed with a laugh, “Absolutely not.”

“I think I should.” If you were going to reply, Johnny didn’t care or account for it. He ignored you. You wished he wasn’t so good at that. Johnny had his hands around your waist and he leaned you back, swiftly but carefully. It felt more like a stumble for the first few seconds. His hair covered his eyes, he licked his lips and told you for the second time that day, “I’ve got you.”

And you said, ��I know.”

Johnny pulled you back up, tucked you safely against him at the edge of the dance floor; at the edge of the world. A world that was spinning, wildly, around the two of you while you stood completely still. Melted like that unsuspecting night in April.

Johnny said your name, you looked up at him, “I want to take you on another date.”

You hummed, following as he swayed the two of you, “You want to take me on another date?”

“That’s what I said.” His voice was just above a shout, trying to be heard over the music, but you were certain only you could hear him, “Are you free Tuesday?”

Nodding, you told him, “I should be, yeah. What time?”

“The whole day.”

You stopped swaying, pulling back to arms length to look up at Johnny. He seemed shocked, you likely did as well, repeating, “The whole day?”

“I took the day off.” His simplicity, his ease, his certainty came back to taunt you. He guided you into a spin, out and away and mixed in with the crowd. Then, Johnny pulled you back to where you started pressed against his chest, “I want to spend it with you. As much as you can, at least.”

“Okay.” It was easy to agree, the two of you like this. It was easy to look up at Johnny and agree with whatever he said, carried by the music and the energy around you. It was easy and it felt almost right, so you agreed, “I can do that.”

“Good. That’s really good.” He pushed you back, gently and fluidly, like he was starting a new dance. Then, Johnny nodded his head towards the border of the dance floor, “They’re looking for us.”

You followed his eyes, “Ah.”

You saw Jaehyun first, weaving in and out of the groups around the edge. Mark was close behind. Johnny had yet to let go of your hand, holding it for as long as you’d let him, as long as the crowd kept you hidden, as long as it took until you were spotted by familiar eyes. He didn’t mind, really. Johnny didn’t mind having these secret moments with you, not for the time being.

For the last week, all he could hear was your voice saying, “I don’t want to make you feel like a secret.” And he wanted to keep reminding you that he was okay. He wanted you to be okay; with him, with you, with all of it.

He knew it was only temporary. Johnny hoped it was only temporary. He tugged on your hand seconds before Jaehyun finally saw you. Your eyes were back to him, only him, “You look beautiful.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes and tapping your fingers on the back of his hand, “You said that yesterday.”

“I did. I meant it.” He grinned, “And I mean it, today.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll probably mean it tomorrow, too.”

“Thank you, Johnny.”

“I’ll mean it every time you let me say it.” Again, he squeezed your hand. You didn’t answer and Johnny let go, eyes leaving yours to focus behind you, “They’re here.”

Mark was next to you before you could blink. He saw the way your hand flexed at your side, watched Johnny’s hand go into his pockets and Mark smiled, more to himself, “Here you guys are.”

previous. masterlist. next.

#jeong jaehyun #jeong yunho #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #johnny suh #johnny suh fluff #johnny suh angst #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh x you #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x you #nct jaehyun x reader #nct johnny x reader #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst

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tatakittysworld · 9 months ago

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▒᪾ ⋆ 𝗄ּ꩝ํ᪾ֵּᥖ᪾⠀ᥬ͠ɑᥱ𝗒ׄᥱ𖦹︎ꪀ ׅ𝅄ֹ ׅ♡ 𝅄࣪ ׅ

࣪ ۪ ۫ ❀ ˚ ᥬ ̵ֵ٢ּׂ᥆⃘ּ𝅥ᥖׂ ﹟𐑕ᨵᥣꪱ︪︩۫ꮪᥬ͠ɑ ﹠ 𐑕ꪀꮪժ יִ

• inspiration :@renee-stuff @swirl-web @soocats @sichengs-world @sunniewr @d-aezs @charlieweb e @luvietcon .

★ ao usar dê os devidos créditos ᥣᝒᥝᥣᝒᥝ-ƙꪱํᥣ᳢ᥣ᳢ꪩ.

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sichengs-world · 21 hours ago

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misted-dream · 11 months ago

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♟️ between heaven and hell ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚ bodyguard!winwin x fem!reader ➛ part of the mad city series | go to district V

content | smut, sprinkle of angst, fluff, strangers to lovers, forbidden love but not really, forced proximity, a little bit of miscommunication, yn is mentioned to be shorter than winwin, slow burn?, winwin is kinda a dick at first

warnings | fingering, profanity, mentions of food, mentions of a shooting

word count | 18k

synopsis | being born into a repulsive fortune, your life is threatened more often than not. you’ve grown less and less affected by it throughout the years. however, as the day where you take on your father’s much coveted title looms nearer and nearer, more frequent and dangerous threats draw in. with all the money in the world, is it enough to buy trust?

note | ln stands for last name since yn is addressed by her last name quite a bit in this. the ending is a little bit rushed, pls excuse that and ignore the fact that this basically takes place in a week. what is pacing, idk.

tags @90s-belladonna thank you for supporting me!

a smattering of rain hits against the arched window pane of the library, filling the room with a soft pitter-patter. usually, from where you are seated, you can look directly into the well-kept and always blossoming garden. now, it’s too dark for you to make out anything but the slightest silhouette of your father’s treasured magnolia tree.

“miss ln?”

you direct your attention away from the book in your hands, and towards the library entrance that you had your back to.

“your father would like to speak with you.”

this late? you thought.

“thank you, priscilla,” you smile and your housemaid dismisses herself with a gentle nod. you glide your extended legs off of the couch and set down your book next to you on the velvet material of the sofa. sliding on your slippers, you make your way out of the library, softly close the door behind you, and amble along the long hallways and down the staircase leading to your father’s office.

you knock twice on the thick wooden doors painted in a pristine white. "come in," your father calls out. you apply pressure to the metal handle, cold to the touch, and the hinges creak slightly.

you greet your father, sat in his usual spot in the middle of the office with a floor-to-ceiling window to his back. then, something else catches your attention. a tall, backlit figure stands broadly next to your father. the room is illuminated by the moonlight and a gold accented lamp in the far corner, barely enough light to see 3 feet out in front of you clearly.

“yn,” your father addresses you faintly. you instinctively go to pull out one of the two leather seats tucked under the large, hand-carved wooden desk, its’ surface littered with documents and fountain pens. as you take a seat, your father begins, “as you know, your succession is planned for a little over a week, if all goes well. taking into account the latest incident, i have decided to take preventative measures to ensure no more dangers come to you during the lead-up.” your father pauses, his palm opens to gesture towards the man standing beside him. “this will be your new personal guard,” the man steps forward, “dong sicheng.”

confusion evidently sits upon your face. you want to flat out ask, ‘why do i need a bodyguard?’ but you bite back your tongue, trying to come up with a more eloquent and precise prod.

the man doesn’t reach his hand out, as you would expect, to introduce himself. he simply voices, “miss ln,” with a curt nod of his head.

you pull your eyes away from your new bodyguard, you still can’t make out too much of what he looks like. “father, i already have personal guards,” you state matter of factly.

“of course,” your father leans back into his chair. “but none of them are with you 24/7. sicheng will be, ensuring no harm comes your way.”

unbelievable. on the surface, it seems like he truly wants you under protection, but you understand your father’s schemes; you understand your father more than anyone else. what he’s really saying is that he has hired this man—dong sicheng—so that you will be put on his watchlist.

your father smiles a gentle smile. “but,” at the very first sound of a protest, the corners of his mouth begins to droop, “if this is about last time—”

with a firm shake of his head, your father cuts you off. “this isn’t negotiable, yn.”

normally, when you would argue things to be your way, your father would at least hear what you have to say. so, to be cut off so bluntly... a pang of helplessness strikes you square in the chest, and your eyes divert towards your new guard.

“i recommend you use your time to get adjusted to this change,” with that, your father dismisses the both of you out of his office.

you shuffle out into the cold, sterile hallways. marble pillars line the walls with ornate sconces attached upon them, each bearing a flickering candle. besides just hearing the firm footsteps of someone else tailing right behind you, you can also feel an almost omniscient presence shadowing you. swiftly, you spin around on your heels only to be met eye level with someone's chest. your guard's. you have to angle your head upwards so that you can look into his eyes; he seems to purposefully ignore your gaze, staring straight at one of the pillars opposite him.

he's undeniably gorgeous. the hallways are more lit up than your father's study, allowing you to examine every detail of your guard's face.

you wait a few seconds before breaking the silence, "are you not going to say anything?"

he drops his focus onto you. coldly, he replies, "that's not what i'm paid to do, miss." he lets his eyes linger on you for a moment longer, before returning to look at nothing.

he can tell that you're clearly annoyed by his response, but he makes no show of it. you continue, "if you're not even going to look at me, how are you going to protect me?"

"is there something i need to protect you from in your own home, miss ln?"

he knows. at least he's alluding to knowing about your last little incident. you curse yourself for being careless in your head. if you hadn't caused a ruckus when you snuck home a few nights ago, you wouldn't have this bizarrely handsome, yet callous man looming over you until your father sees a reason to think otherwise.

"no, i suppose not."

you turn around once more, facing the rest of the hallway. an archway leads to a stately staircase at the end of the corridor. you walk down the hall, trying to dismiss the delayed footsteps behind you, and enter through the archway. the staircase spirals upwards into the corridor connecting the bedrooms; yours and your father's. of course, there are other rooms upstairs, such as the library, the games room, other rooms that you don't concern yourself with too much. a grand piano sits in the centre of the spiralling staircase, its' glossy surface lit up by the moonshine flooding inside through the domed skylight.

you proceed up the stairs, not expecting your bodyguard to follow you up, but he does.

you pause, and look back around for the second time now in the span of less than 10 minutes.

"there aren't guest rooms upstairs," you point out flatly.

he responds, meeting your coldness with his own but only 10 times more intensified, "i won't be requiring one."

puzzled, you ask, "you're not going to be sleeping in my room, are you?" half jokingly, half serious.

"miss ln," he takes one step up on the staircase so that he's at the same level as you, forcing you to tilt your head upwards at him. the heels of his shoes echo loudly on impact against the quartz steps. "there are boundaries i must follow in my duties. so whilst i won't be requiring my own room, i also know not to overstep into your privacy." he scans your face, looking for any hint of understanding. then, he adds plainly, "i will be guarding your bedroom door outside. you can rest assured."

you can feel a sly smirk creeping up onto your face, "shame. here i was thinking that you would follow me everywhere. speaking of," you make an exaggerated movement out of looking down at the watch on your wrist. "i should better shower; it's getting late."

sicheng's face is unfazed but still, you simper, looking pleased with yourself.

he stalks behind you wordlessly as you make the rest of your way up to your bedroom. and sure enough, he stops and stands outside to the right of your door.

"you can't be serious," the thought in your head slips out through your lips.

he doesn't look back. "i'm afraid your father is a vey serious man, miss ln."

how does father expect this man to stand outside of your room all night long? assuming he doesn't sleep, given the 24/7 hour-ness as mentioned in your father's spiel, how will he even have to energy to do his job?

you study the profile of his back for a few seconds before pushing your door closer to the frame, not completely shutting it.

your bedroom connects to an en suite bathroom. to say it's grand is underplaying the extent of luxury which you live in. the room is unnecessarily spacious with marble counters and a tall ceiling with intricately moulded details. a round bathtub sits in the centre, integrated directly into a gazebo-like fixture. a golden chandelier hangs overhead the bathtub, softly lighting up the room, creating a warm atmosphere. to the right side of the tub, facing across from the mirror and the sink, stands a shower area enclosed by frosted glass doors.

you reach for your zipper on the nape of your neck. you slide your thumb underneath the metal tab and begin to pull it down between your fingers. it budges an inch or two before it gets caught onto the fabric of your dress. "ugh," you vocalise. forcibly, you attempt to get the zipper unstuck, tugging and tugging but it won't shift.

you can only think of one solution.

"uh," you call out loud enough so that your bodyguard outside is sure to hear you. you're not quite sure how you should address him; calling him by his name feels weirdly a bit too intimate.

putting you out of your misery, he responds, "yes?" from outside in the halls.

"could you... come in?"

there's a break before he answers back to you. "i'm afraid that's unbecoming of me unless there's an emergency, miss ln."

you roll your eyes, despite knowing he's not there to see. "there is an emergency. will you come in now?"

"...are you decent?" he seems to contemplate his words carefully.

"god, you're frustrating," you blurt out, "yes, i'm decent- who do you think i am?"

there's a brief pause in time before you hear footsteps step into your bedroom. you can see him stop in front of your bathroom doorway in your peripheral.

you look over at him, standing tall and poised with his hands clasped in front of him. "what's the emergency, miss?"

turning your back against him, you sweep your hair over your shoulders, baring your zipper. "i can't get this unstuck."

he doesn't take any steps towards you, "and you needed me to come in for this?"

your patience grows thinner and thinner by the second. "if i could've got it myself, i wouldn't have called for you, would i?"

with this, he takes one... two... and three steps. just three steps before he's in reach of you. you can feel a warmth draw closer to you. turning your head towards your shoulder, you can see him standing behind you in the mirror. without knowing, you hold your breath. he goes to pull gingerly with one hand on the back neckline of your dress, the other trying to unwedge the fabric jammed underneath the zipper. he frees the tab and smoothly, he unzips you down to the middle of your back, stopping himself from releasing the zip all the way down. immediately, he drops his head and removes his hands from your dress while simultaneously taking a large step back from you.

"if that's all, i will leave you to rest for tonight, miss ln." his head is still angled downwards, eyes glued to the bathroom tiling.

you mutter, "thank you," finally taking in a breath again.

he nods, and begins to step backwards out of the bathroom. before he disappears completely from your field of vision, he is stopped by your expulsion of an 'um.'

without a word, he waits for what you have next to say. turning around to face him, he lifts his head and meets your eyes, still as emotionless as they were when you two were on the stairs.

"goodnight, sicheng."

you can see his chest rise, and fall before he speaks again. "goodnight, miss ln."

there's gentle thumping at the door but you can't be sure. your head and senses are foggy from sleep. your eyelids remain shut, trying to phase out the knocking.

"miss ln?"

for a brief moment, you don't recognise the voice calling out for your name. it is much deeper than the normal voice of your housemaid. your eyes open to a squint to see the morning sun rays surging into your room through the mesh veil of your curtains. another part of the garden can be seen through the windows to the right of your bed.

"miss ln?" sicheng calls out again.

"yes?" groggily, you answer as you push yourself up, propping your back against the cushioned headboard.

"your housemaid informs me that you have errands to run today."

your head snaps, remembering what today is. the gala.

he continues speaking, "i tried to send some of my men to help carry out your errands for you instead, but i was told to get your permission."

you manoeuvre out of your bed, tossing the throw blanket off of you. heading directly for the double doors, you swing them open to find dong sicheng standing right outside with his arms behind him, his head bowed. the sudden movement causes him to jolt his head upwards.

"no, i'll go," you scan him quickly up and down. he's dressed in the exact same outfit as last night, hair still combed over only a bit more disheveled. you want to ask if he really stood outside of your room while you slept throughout the whole night, but you know what he will say. your father never made promises he can't follow up on, mainly because it was never him personally who fulfilled his promises.

sicheng, looking caught offguard for the first time quickly steels his face back again into his trademark stoicness. "then, i shall accompany you." he gives your get-up one swift look down, then back up. "i'm ready whenever you are."

feeling only slightly annoyed at his gesture, you close the door on him and go to get dressed.

...

sicheng sits next to you in the car. the driver in front seems to pay no attention to his presence. you glance over, trying to make your staring not as conspicuous, but to no avail. his posture is perfectly upright and his hair looks more groomed than when he was stood outside your bedroom door.

"do i look to your standard, miss ln?" it's only when he finishes asking his question that he meets your gaze. it's clear in that moment that he didn't expect an answer to his rhetorical question.

feeling only slightly embarrassed, you lower you eyebrows at him, "do you remember last night when you said you don't get paid to talk?" feigning curiosity with your head tilted to the side.

the slightest smile breaks on his face. "very well," eyes diverting away from you and onto the road out in front through the windshield.

the rest of the ride is silent, which your chauffeur took as a sign to turn on the radio. the first piece that blares out ever so softly is liebestraum no. 3.

the car then comes to a halt in front of a private wine bar. sicheng opens his door and holds onto the handle as he waits for you to shuffle out behind him. then, he shuts it and waves the driver off to a direction. you readjust your outfit from having been sat down.

carefully, you traipse your way towards the entrance of the wine bar, being deliberate to not place a heel down in between the crevices of the cobblestone that lined the courtyard.

"i'm surprised you haven't voiced your displeasure for me going out of the house, yet," you remark, "surely, my father told you i was not to be let out."

for having been against the idea of having a bodyguard just yesterday, you seem to have grown rather used to having sicheng around you rather quickly. you can only hope that he doesn't pick up on this.

"not to be let out without protection, yes."

he's quick on the draw. you pause right in front of the heavy mahogany door, the top of it curved inwards to a sharp point. your eyes gloss over the coffee brown grain pattern before you place a palm onto it and push inwards.

...

it's been a few hours since you've arrived back home from the wine bar, having picked out the perfect gift for the gala host tonight. sunset falls upon the horizon and that's your cue to start getting ready.

you've always had a habit of putting on your makeup by yourself as opposed to having someone else do it for you. however, that habit doesn't carry over to styling your hair.

you're sat in front of a full length mirror, a baroque style detailing frames the entirety of it. priscilla, one of the housemaids who's similar in age to you, stands behind you, attentively pinning the hair in the back of your head into a detailed updo. you look at your dress in the mirror. the square neckline makes space for your freshwater pearl necklace that glows softly against your skin.

"and... all done," priscilla announces.

you turn your head in the mirror to get a better view of her work, "it's a beautiful job." you stand from your seat, catching her eyes in the reflection, "thank you."

she smiles brightly, her youth glints in her eyes. "here," she looks to the side to grab a pair of long silk gloves, holding it out to you. you pull them over your left hand all the way up to your elbow, then your right, struggling a little over the bandage wrapped around your palm.

after tucking your purse in between your arm and your ribs, you're ready to head out.

sicheng is already in the foyer, waiting for you. when your heels first click against the quartz stairs, his eyes darts toward you at the top of the spiralled staircase. you delicately place a hand on the iron banister and as you make your way down the steps, you glide your gloved palm along the railing.

sicheng watches your every action.

when you reach the bottom of the staircase, you shake your head gently to push back the strands of hairs that had fell in front of your face.

"how do i look?" you ask with a teasing smile.

you can see sicheng's lips part faintly, only for him to clear his throat right after. "as you do normally, miss ln." he subtly straightens his posture and pushes his shoulders back. "after you," he gestures towards the front door.

...

sicheng pulls open the door closest to you. he extends his palm towards you, with his other hand cradling a small, rectangular wooden box. you take his hand as you lift one foot out of the vehicle and onto the tiled courtyard of the xiao family house.

the butler comes to greet you. you've known him and the family that he works for for as long as you can remember, and seeing him again tonight struck a chord within you. a certain spark of gloom settles inside your stomach when you see him smile, his wrinkles deeper and his hair greyer than you remember.

the butler leads you down the main entrance hall towards the gala that's already well under way behind the closed doors. you've been down these halls more than a handful of time, the same paintings have been hung up on the walls for at least a decade, but the air of elegance and grandeur that the xiao family home exudes never fails to knock your breath out of you.

sicheng notices you seemingly lost in a thought, and before the trio of you reaches the superfluously tall double doors, he quietly utters, "is everything alright?" being mindful and not wanting the butler to overhear if something was amiss.

you glance over your shoulder, out of your trance, "yes."

he doesn't press, anymore. even if he did want to ask more, ask if you were sure, he knew his place, and so he didn't pry further.

the butler pushes open the double doors and a gentle puff of wind blows against you, travelling along with the music to your ears. "enjoy the gala," he smiles, and you return his display of friendliness.

as he walks back down the other direction, sicheng inches ever so slightly closer to you.

the cold and eerily too refined hallway is starkly contrasted by the lively atmosphere of the gala ballroom. attendees are chatting, networking, dancing. they all look extremely distinguished; pearls and diamonds and crystals draped all over them. the chandelier hanging in the middle of the ballroom is glistening, and a small orchestra is performing at one end of the hall.

you pause on top of the stairs for a moment, taking in the scene in front of you, and simultaneously searching for a face. then, you find it.

you begin to make your way down to where everyone else was on the dance floor, and sicheng follows closely behind you. as you weave your way in between the attendees, your senses are hit and overwhelmed with notes upon notes of fragrances. it transitions from roses to vanilla, cedarwood to bergamot. individually, these aromas would typically be more than pleasant, but combined together along with the heat emanating off everyone, it muddled your senses so much that a headache began to creep its way into your temples. it's clear as you manoeuvre your way across the dance floor, that sicheng stood out to everyone as an unusual date of yours. they would flash a faint smile at you then take one, or two glances at the man trailing behind you. guards weren't uncommon, yes, but to bring a personal guard to a gala hosted by a well respected member of the upper echelon? that was uncommon.

finally, you're face to face with the person you've been looking for: the host.

"mrs. xiao."

"yn!" she enthusiastically greets you, a beaming smile on her face. her arms open up and pull you into a warm embrace. "goodness, i haven't seen you in so long!" she expresses as she begins to pull away.

"i know, it's been way too long," you politely respond.

if you were talking to anyone else in this room, you'd be dead before you were caught speaking so casually to them. but you grew up next to mrs. xiao and her family. her son, dejun, was practically your childhood best friend. well, it's hard to tell if a best friend really is a best friend when that was your only option, but nonetheless, your two families were close.

"oh!" you voice as you turn around to sicheng. you stretch your hands towards the wooden box that he was carrying and he places it gently into your palms. "here, i got you some merlot," you turn back around, "i asked barnie at the winery to give me your favourite," a curl stretched your lips taut.

a wave of gratitude washes over mrs. xiao's face. "you're still as thoughtful as ever, yn." she takes the box into her arms, and as if on cue, someone dressed in a neat uniform comes towards mrs. xiao and takes the box away so that she doesn't have to carry it herself for more than a couple of seconds.

and right at the moment, dejun approaches where you are stood in the centre of the ballroom, walking alongside some other guests, one you know, the other you don't.

mrs. xiao turns to him, trying to contain some of her agitation as she mutters, "where have you been this whole night?"

"i've been in here, ma," he responds equally as quiet, but more passive aggressively, disguised with that bright smile of his.

mrs. xiao turns her head away from him with her nose up, trying to swallow down her irritation. "anyway," she breathes out. "dejun, aren't you going to introduce your friends?"

he took that as a sign to do as his mother asked, but not before sighing a shallow breath first. in an instant, he puts on a charming smile. you know he's not doing it for you, he couldn't care less about being charming towards you; both of you knew you would see right through it anyway. "yn, this is rin. rin, yn. and hendery's here as well, i guess," he mutters the last part of his sentence.

you stifle back a smirk at dejun's attempt at humour and extend your palm for a handshake with rin. "it's a pleasure to meet you." she doesn't say anything but shakes your hand gently and mirrors your smile back to you, except hers looks very practiced and unnatural.

mrs. xiao tuts her teeth, so subtly that it's barely audible. she turns her body into you ever so slightly, leaning forward and muttering under her breath into your ear, "i really wish you were here to stop my jun兒 from falling into these circles. look at them, no manners at all."

dejun watches almost awkwardly, then he switches the attention onto you. "what about you, yn? aren't you going to introduce us to your little armpiece?" he cocks his head in sicheng's direction.

mrs. xiao shoots dejun a stern look, one that carries the weight of a thousand words. but in front of such a crowd, the extent of her reprimanding ends at, "don't speak so crass."

dejun only shoots up his eyebrows in response, and sucks in a quiet breath.

"this is dong sicheng," on instinct, your hand sweeps out to the side of you and sicheng nods. "he's the... bodyguard, that my father hired."

"bodyguard, huh?"

"don't start, xiaojun," you try your best to make it seem subtle enough, but dejun chuckles at the sight of you rolling your eyes.

mrs. xiao cuts through the brief pause in conversation, "well, we would love to stay and chat more but i should go greet some of my other guests. you don't mind, yn?"

"no, of course, not."

mrs. xiao gives you one last squeeze before she's off again waving halfway across the room to somebody else, and dejun and his friends trail behind her.

you're about to turn around when a waiter passes by you and sicheng, one hand balancing a tray full of glasses of champagne.

"a drink, miss?"

you pinch the stem of the glass in between your fingers and your thumb. when the waiter offers one to sicheng, he declines.

as you bring your champagne up to your lips, sicheng slips his fingers around the bowl of your glass and forcibly pulls it away from you. "he offered you one," you look at him in disbelief, but he acts as if you didn't say anything.

he hovers the rim of the glass under his nose, swirling the champagne around as he does so. you watch, still half incredulous and half in puzzlement. he brings the rim up against his lips, tipping the glass towards him as he takes the tiniest sip of champagne that you’ve ever seen. as he swallows, he smacks his lips together lightly, then he passes the glass back to you.

“what was that for?” hesitantly, you sit the bowl of the glass back into your palm. you’re not sure if you should sip from the same cup as he did—is that even appropriate in this setting?

“not laced,” he states nonchalantly, eyes darting around the room.

it takes your brain a few seconds to fully process what he just did, and said. “and why would it be laced?” a confusion intertwined with your voice.

sicheng stares at you, not blankly, but not aggressively either. it’s like you can read what he’s doing in his head, going down winding paths to find you an answer, but you can’t read exactly what it is that he’s thinking.

he finally responds after a good few moments of him turning your question over in his head. “you are my responsibility,” he can sense that you are about to object this statement, so he quickly continues. “regardless of what you may think, you are. whatever i do, i do in your best interest. do you understand now?”

truthfully, you want to reply, ‘not quite.’ how does that explain why your drink at a gala held by people you know, people you trust, would be laced?

sicheng leans in close enough so that you can hear him at a whisper, but not so close that people will see and start to speculate. "miss ln, may i remind you you're a successor. i know you've already lived through some threats, but if they were willing to threaten you when you arguably held no power, imagine what they would do if they knew you were taking over your father's position as mayor."

he backs away; face still as cold as steel, not letting anything that he's thinking or feeling show. you can't help but feel a bit shaken at his words. yes, you've received threats before, but they were mostly empty-handed words scribbled on a note. you never thought anything of them, until sicheng said something just now.

"there's no reason people here of all places would want to do anything to me; you're too paranoid." as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your doubt coating your tongue, but you wash it down with some sparkling wine. just a little bit.

sicheng studies your expression for a second, his head tilting slightly to the side. "have you ever heard of a wolf in sheep's clothing, miss ln? maybe you're not paranoid enough," his last word drags off and almost becomes inaudible.

you blink your lashes a couple of times looking up at him, and then an echoing voice pierces right through the ballroom.

"hello everyone! thank you all for attending my little gathering."

both you and sicheng turn your heads to the origin of the sound. mrs. xiao is stood on the little stage that the orchestra has been performing on.

a pleasant smile drawing on her face as she addresses her guests, "it is so great to see so many of you. as you all know, my husband and i-"

the lights cut. the chandelier that was hanging above the dance floor flickers off.

mrs. xiao's voice can be heard again, but this time loudly proclaiming without the help of her microphone over the gasps and murmurs of confusion. "everyone please remain calm—i'm sure the lights will be back on soon."

a sudden pang of fear hits you. your heart thumps faster in your chest, and your breathing becomes shallower and shallower. there's darkness all around you. you try your best to look for, or rather, feel around for sicheng but you remain quiet, knowing it will only add to the chaos. people all around you are shuffling, nudging everyone else. whispers and mumbles all fade into a singular stream of white noise around you. then, you feel a hand grasp on your upper arm. a sense of relief washes over your mind, sicheng. but then, the grasp feels begins to dig deeper and deeper into you, and it becomes clear to you that whatever grasping you isn't a hand. at least, it's not a hand coming into direct contact with you. the fingers digging into your arm are clothed by a silk or sorts; sicheng didn't wear gloves.

you try to free your arm by wrangling it away from whoever it is that has a hold on you. then, in an instant, you feel the hand drop from you so forcibly that it tugged your arm downwards along with it. a new hand has made its way onto you, this time just slightly below your shoulder. you hear a whisper in your ear, "come on, let's go," and the relief you felt earlier resurfaces. this time, it's definitely sicheng's voice.

he takes hold of your wrist, not too tight but just enough to guide you to the exit. as you two are about to head up the stairs to the double doors, the lights flicker back on and mrs. xiao is on stage again.

"there we are. i apologise profusely for that disruption," her hands grip onto the mic stand tightly.

sicheng leads you up the stairs and out the doors without second guessing; everyone else seemed too caught up in the middle of the chaos to notice.

...

back at your home, you and sicheng enter through your foyer and he's spluttering out orders and demands over the phone. as you pass by the large circular mirror hanging in one of the walls of the foyer, you catch a glimpse of your reflection. you double take. one of your ears are still adorned by the beautiful pearl earring that your father had got you, but your other one is missing.

sicheng gets off of the phone that he's been on since the beginning of the car ride home. then, he notices you staring at your reflection in the mirror. "what's the matter?"

you give a gentle shake of your head, fingers drawing at your bare earlobe, "nothing, just one of my earrings is gone."

"i'll have my men try to find it for you," he responds without missing a beat. "miss ln, are you sure that nothing else happened whilst the lights went out?" his eyebrows curve in a slight s-shape.

"yes, i already told you. someone grabbed me by the arm, but that was it. maybe they just thought i was someone they knew."

sicheng shows no reaction to your theory, "i will have this investigated, miss ln. i advise you to get some rest," he says with a bow of his head.

your nightly routine goes by like a blur. priscilla has been dismissed for the night, so you undo your hair, your gown, and clean off your makeup all by yourself, but your mind isn't fully in the present.

sicheng went off after telling you to get some rest, presumably to inform your father about what'd happened. you don't know for certain if he's still speaking to your father, or if he's standing outside your door right now.

it's not that your mind is dwelling on what happened; in fact, you are precisely thinking of nothing. everything in your vision passes by you like you're watching someone else lead their life. even as you get changed, crawl into bed, and try to drift to sleep.

suddenly, you hear a creak from outside your window. your eyes shoot open. trying your best to calm yourself, you reason that it's probably just mice who'd made their way into your garden. a strong gust of wind blows past. then, silence.

and another creak. all logic and rationale flys out of your mind. the only thing you can think of to do is...

"sicheng!"

you tried your best to hold your own earlier, down in the foyer, but right now the sense of urgency in your voice betrays you. sicheng bursts into your room, the buttons of the collar of his shirt undone.

"yes, miss ln?"

his eyes are solely focused on you, despite you looking out towards the windows.

"there's... i heard some weird noises," you gesture with your head pointing at the garden.

sicheng follows your gaze, then he looks back at you. he could tell you that you're in your own home, that you're safe, but instead, he walks over to your windows and draws open your curtains. "there's nothing here, miss ln." hoping that he can provide you with some reassurance, he looks back at you, "we've already done a perimeter check, you're safe here, i assure you."

you drop your eyes, responding with a gentle nod of the head.

"i'll be outside," he says as he begins to make his way back to the door.

before he can reach the handle, you stop him, "wait." he looks at you with an expectant expression. "can't you just stay here?"

even though he's a distance away, you notice a flinch in his brows as he registered your words. "i'm afraid that's not appropriate, miss ln." he says this, but he doesn't take another step.

"there," you point towards the sofa chair to the right side of your bed, "at least just stay there." you wanted to add a 'please,' maybe plead with him, but your dignity had to be kept even if you were fearful.

he doesn't protest as much as you thought he would. quietly, he shuts your door and makes his way to the chair.

your fingers hop from one note to another, pressing down with force and lifting again at the flick of your wrist. a familiar tune emanates throughout the room, rising up to the skylight, then sinking back down again.

your hands dance along the keys of the grand piano at the bottom of your staircase. a bittersweet melody fills your ears, and as you come to a decrescendo in the piece, the faint sound of footsteps through the marble halls overtake your playing. you swiftly turn your head around.

sicheng is stood behind you. under the bright morning light, his cheekbones stand out prominently. "i've been looking for you, miss ln," his chest falls as he says this.

"you dozed off," you turn your attention back to the piano, "i didn't want to wake you."

"i apologise; it won't happen again."

"you need to rest, too," you raise your hands and gently set them on top of the keys, "do you even sleep?"

there's a slight break in between your asking of the question and his answer. "occasionally, but not when i'm supposed to be on duty."

you turn back around, "well, like you said: i'm safe here." you scan him up and down, he's changed out of the outfit he wore to the gala last night, but all his outfits resemble each other. a black button up shirt, a fitted black blazer, black suit paints, a black tie, and a small white brooch on the lapels of his blazer. "do you play?"

he looks to be slightly caught offguard, "no. well, yes but-"

"play something for me."

you shuffle yourself to one side of the bench, making room for sicheng next to you. he slowly walks around and slides into the spot you've made for him. for the first time, you can visibly see that every one of his actions are carried out with hesitation.

his posture is perfect, head slightly tilted downwards and a curve at his wrist as his fingertips lay upon the whites of the piano keys. he clears his throat. then, a single note as he presses down with his index finger. the beginning is slow, slower than the piece was intended to be, but you know what he's playing regardless. nocturne op. 9 no. 1. there's a certain silent agony in the way he punctuates the flow of the melody. the second of the set of nocturnes that chopin had composed has always been regarded as chopin's more famous piece of work over this one. yet, the manner in which sicheng plays this piece makes you wonder why.

the stiffness that was prevalent in his body is now gone, fully immersed in the rhythm. the crescendo comes devastatingly, he leans forward into it, the melody tugging at your chest despite it sounding a bit brighter than the introduction of the piece. you watch in silence as his fingers glide and cross over each other masterfully, a sonorous tone emitting from his movements.

he doesn't finish the piece, but he finds a place to stop after a minute or so of playing.

his fingers linger on the notes as the melody fades out gradually.

"you play beautifully," softly, you remark, "where did you learn?"

he lifts his hands from the keys, clasping them together on his lap. "thank you—my mother taught me."

you watch as he swallows, his adam’s apple dipping slightly. a thought occurs to you. you barely know anything about this man who’s supposed to protect you. maybe that’s for privacy, confidentiality, or security reasons but, there’s a certain yearning in you that wants to find out more about him. after all, trust can’t be built without a foundation. you just don’t know where to prod.

“…and what about your dad?”

sicheng glances over at you, slightly confused at your sudden interest in him. his eyebrows flinch again. “he, uh, used to work for your father. that’s why i’m here. my family owes a lot to your father.”

he gulps again.

you’re not completely sure how to navigate through this conversation. do you ask where his father is now? what if it’s a sensitive spot, why else would sicheng be acting this uncharacteristically. his cold and cool demeanor seemingly melted away. “your father… is he…”

you don’t finish your sentence, but sicheng knows what you’re hinting at. “no, no. he’s just retired. too many injuries on the job.” he clears his throat and stands up from the bench. “sorry, i didn’t mean to intrude on your space, miss ln.” he begins to walk back around the bench.

you can’t help but let out a faint chuckle. “drop the title already. it’s just yn.”

he’s standing tall, hands clasped in front of him, and he purses his lips together. he dips his head rather jerkily, “as you wish.”

then, a ping sounds out.

you pick up your phone that was laid out on the top cover of the piano, and sicheng fishes for his in the inside pockets of his blazer. as he brings out his phone, you begin to hear a vibration sounding out. he holds it in his hand and flashes a quick glance at you, “excuse me,” then he accepts the call. as he brings it up to his ear, he spins on his heel and start to walk off into a distant hallway.

you divert your attention back onto your screen and begin to see messages popping up at the bottom. ones from dejun that read:

"my mum would like to apologise to everyone here about what happened yesterday."

it's sent to the group chat thread that you rarely respond to, though, you do keep up with its messages.

then, another:

"i don't believe in apologies without actions, so you're all cordially invited to come to dreamers' oasis in d119 tomorrow night."

"on me."

the last message was an important detail. you click on the notification bubble and already see others typing in the group chat.

hendery writes, "you are so gonna regret saying that."

a tiny smile creeps its' way onto your face. your thumbs begin moving on the keyboard; hitting send on a message that says, "hendery's going to bankrupt you," which earned you a dislike from dejun.

he ignores your comment, "will you finally be joining us yn? you know, seeing as it's your last week as a free woman."

the last part of his sentence hits you; maybe not to that extreme but it is your last week before you have to take on your father's responsibilities.

every time dejun invites you to a night out, it's most of the time a no brainer and not in a positive way. all the clubs and bars that your friends choose are out of your district's boundaries. and it's not like you didn't have clubs and bars in this district, but the fun ones—as dejun puts it—are only in district 119. you've only taken the risk a couple of times, but now, with especially an extra pair of eagle eyes on you, the possibility of sneaking out is practically 0.

before you can respond, hendery already sent out a message in your place, "have you seen her little boyfriend yesterday? there's no way man."

as much as you want to disagree, you can't. there is no way.

"not my boyfriend," you finally type out.

messages keep popping up on screen, a plan coming together with the people that can go. before you exit out of the thread, you type in "i'll see what i can do," but you stop short of pressing send.

quietly, you head off in the same direction as sicheng, scanning the halls for any sign of him. you're not quite sure what you'll do once you see him. beg him? please let me go out with my friends and get wasted? no. you haven't reached that point, yet; you still have some decorum within you.

you spot him still talking over the phone behind a marble pillar. as silently as possible, you sidle over to where he is, not wanting to disrupt him. once you're close enough, you catch glimpses of his conversation that he's having: "do you understand? whatever you do... we can't let her find out what happened."

your brain made the connect pretty quickly, the 'her' in question had to be you—who else? and what is he keeping from you? he continues speaking but nothing is going through you. all you can think about is, what is he not telling me? as quietly as you came, you retrace your steps back into the piano room.

you'd be lying if you said there wasn't a spark of fury beginning to catch within you. if you are to trust sicheng, why would he purposefully keep something from you? the more you think about it, the more agitated you grew. the fact that he seemed to treat you like a child needing protection every step along the way annoyed you—and what if his intention wasn't to protect you? your head can only spin with theories and speculations.

you unlock your phone again, and hit send on the last message you typed out.

...

your father wanted to have dinner with you tonight, alongside sicheng, of course. and you know now after sitting down to begin your meal, he really wanted to have dinner with sicheng tonight.

"any updates?" your father directed the inquiry towards your bodyguard.

the three of you are sat on a long, oval table. your father sitting at one end, and you and sicheng sitting across from him, sharing the other end. the candelabra stands in between you and your father in the middle.

"no, not yet, sir. we're still trying to investigate the intent behind yesterday's actions."

he finishes his sentence before continuing to cut into his ribeye. you sit adjacent to him, observing every movement he takes. as he stabs into the meat with his fork and brings it up into his mouth. he sets his fork down on the edge of the plate, bringing the napkin laid flat on his lap up as he chews.

"yn, you're not hungry?" your father's voice booms from across the room, breaking your attention away from sicheng.

you look down at your plate, barely touched aside from you swirling the sauce around. "no, i'm afraid not." you set down the fork that you have been toying with flat on the tablecloth. you pull the napkin from your lap and place it on the other side of your plate. standing up, you voice, "i'm a bit weary tonight." you spot sicheng shifting to get up from his seat in your peripheral, "no, no, please finish dinner. father, would you excuse me?"

"well... of course," with your father's approval, sicheng sits back down. you turn around, the heels you're wearing click at a steady pace as you're headed for the doors.

you haven't spoken directly to sicheng since dinner last night. the whole of today you spent cooped up in the library. that's not to say that you were being passive, though.

you haven't forgotten about dejun's invitation for drinks tonight—you just needed the perfect cover.

it's around 8pm, your maids have come and gone bringing you food and tea from time to time. you glance at the grandfather clock propped up against the wall in between all the bookshelves.

you slide the book that you've held in your hands back into its spot on the shelf. rather than actually reading it, your eyes have been skimming the pages and the words scattered throughout absent-mindedly. you turn your plan over around in your mind as you did so, and you have been for the past few hours, at least.

you drag your feet over the wooden floorboards of the library and crack open the doors. you peak your head out into the crack, then the rest of your body follows. oddly enough, sicheng isn't standing right in front of the room.

like a stereotypical action movie, you give the hallways a quick glance in one direction, then the other. you've never felt as much like a thief in your own home. sneaking, tiptoeing around the hallways, caution bubbling in every part of you.

when you reach your bedroom doors, footsteps sound behind you.

the looming presence of someone else doesn't speak, the only indication of them even being there is the shadow of them casted over your own feet.

you turn around, and you're met with the face that you've come to expect these past few days. "i'm... having an early night in."

sicheng's expression is unfaltering. the return of his stoicism makes you feel like a schoolchild being reprimanded by some vague authority figure; desperate to give more and more answers, to keep speaking and reasoning.

he watches your frozen body, as if you'd been caught doing something you're not supposed to, when in reality you're just stood outside of the doors to your own bedroom. "just thought i'd tell you," you add.

"well, don't let me stop you." his torso leans forward ever so slightly, the tone of his voice catching on the edge of a faint whisper.

the handle of the door clicks as you push onto it. when you look back to shut it, sicheng repositions himself with his back to the wall that lines the outside of your room.

once you're completely alone, you strip yourself of the sleeping clothes that you'd been wearing for entirety of today immediately and go over to your closet where you'd already hung up an outfit that you picked out last night.

you slip it on hastily: a tight fitting camisole top with a miniskirt, paired with some knee high leather boots and an oversized jacket for warmth. most of this outfit doesn't even look like it belongs to you. the people in your life knows you for wearing pretty dresses and skirts that reach your knees at least, but if tonight's going to be anything close to fun, then you need to look the part. you can't afford sticking out like a sore thumb, especially in district 119.

you'd texted your friends—or rather xiaojun, and his friends—earlier, asking if they could park right outside the gazebo at the far end of the garden, waiting for you to show up. this plan has worked precisely 2 times before with a 100% success rate, and you're counting on it working for a third time.

you would open the doors to your balcony, climb over the balustrade and scale your way downwards on the water pipe right next to your balcony landing. the garden wasn't fenced in like the front of the house. after all, this house was on private land belonging to your father; anyone who tried to trespass would've been seen by at least one person working on the property. so, it was an easy enough escape from the garden compared to your exit route down from your room.

you walk through the gazebo, hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket as you try to shake the cold of the night off of you. dejun's suv is there, headlights off.

they must've seen you even in the dark, because once you're about a step or two away, the passenger door to the suv swings open—dejun himself in the driver's seat.

...

after finding a quick place to park, you and the group walk a block to where the club is, having had a drink or two on the way here.

the streets are anything but quiet. the heavy void of the sky sits atop the city like a dome, the neon signs colouring the deep blue like a palette of dulled paint. the closer and closer you get to the club, the music already begins to boom from within. laughter erupts from the rest of the group from a joke that you missed.

a pair stands right outside the entrance of the club, one of them leaning against the brick wall whilst the other squats; cigarettes in both their hands. you hold your breath as you walk right into a fresh cloud of smoke, courtesy of the man standing up.

on one hand, you want to let loose tonight; have fun. but on the other, you can't help but wonder if you were meticulous enough, or even at all. there's no guarantee that sicheng wouldn't just open your door and find that you are nowhere within the vicinity. but he wouldn't for no reason, you try to calm your racing mind.

you find yourself at the back of the pack, watching everyone in front of you filter into the entrance, disappearing into the darkness surrounded by a rectangular frame.

dejun is right in front of you, he takes note of your hesitation. he comes back down from the steps leading to the entrance stopping right next to you.

lowering his head, he looks at you through his brows, "don't tell me you're gonna pussy out when you're right outside."

you try to dismiss the doubts flaring around in your head. "you wish. drinks still on you, right?" you shoot him a quick wink, then stride up the steps and like others before you, submerge into the darkness.

and immediately, flashing lights take over the darkness. a neon green fog floats just above the floor. a circular platform stands in the middle of the club with a metal pole going through the centre of it. the club itself is a lot bigger than you'd imagined, given what the exterior of it looked like. circle booths surround the platform and smaller ones are peppered all throughout. the ceiling is tall with decorative vines and ivies hanging from it, not low enough for anyone to reach. 2 bartenders stand behind the bar, busying themselves with orders upon orders for a room of, what looks to be about 200 people. a small, spiralled staircase stands to the right of the bar, leading to what resembles a loft platform with people drinking and laughing up on it.

it's as if your feet are stuck to the ground as you take in the scene before you. dejun places a hand on the small of your back. he utters right by your ear, "come on, that way," as he guides you towards one of the bigger booths right in front of the platform.

you plop down on the red leather couch, warmed against the back of your thigh.

remixes of popular songs blast unapologetically out of the speakers that lined every few inches of the walls. you can hardly hear the people in front of you speaking, debating what drinks to get first. you lean forward, wanting to get an in on what they're discussing. shots, shots, shots. after a word or two from dejun, everyone agrees that they should do shots first. melon flavoured, to be exact.

dejun vanishes into the group of people crowding around the bar.

"so, yn, how's leaving your house for the first time ever?" one of dejun's friends sprouts up.

you can feel your breathing pick up its pace. you weren't expecting much conversation seeing as 'friends' isn't exactly the label you'd put on these people, with the exception being dejun, and maybe hendery.

"great actually, thanks." you slide back into your spot on the booth, only slightly cramped with the amount of people sharing one area.

hendery lands a punch on the guy's arm, "watch how you speak to our princess." a smirk picks up on the guy's lips as hendery finishes his sentence, his tongue poking into the crevice of his cheek.

and just as quickly as the attention turned to you, it leaves you even faster. comments are thrown around about the female bartender.

"hendery, i'll give you £100 if you don't ask for her number tonight," someone chimed.

hendery quickly steals a glance at his phone before returning his eyes to the bettor, "i guess we're not leaving until after midnight, then." he sits back, throwing an arm around the girl next to him.

dejun makes his way back, hands holding as many shots as he could—which was 8. not all of them were filled equally, which you can only assume was attributed to dejun's bumping into people as he was on his way back. the small glasses were filled with a somewhat cloudy liquid. everyone picked up a shot as he set them down on the glass table, including you.

"to xiaojun bankrolling us!" a voice chirped up with a glass in the air. everyone else followed with a chorus of cheers, clinking the shots together before tipping their heads back and downing it.

as you swallow, there's a hint of sweetness from the melon flavour but the vodka is inescapable. you can feel it travel all the way with a burn down your oesophagus until it settles in your stomach, a heat spreading from it.

...

the overwhelming boom of the music does not phase you anymore. you are past the point of hazy where the only thing you can comprehend is what is immediately happening in front of you. object permanence? gone.

for the past few hours, you and the rest of the group you came here with downed shot after shot, drank beer after beer. no matter how high your tolerance was, tonight definitely pushed you over that line.

"xiaojun!" you shout across to your friend at the bar. he acknowledges you with a quick wave of his hand.

the others have their arms around each other's shoulders, foundering as they approach the exit. you lean against one of the walls right in front of the fog machine, waiting for dejun.

"come on, yn!" one of the girls shout, grabbing your wrist in her hands and linking you to the rest of the group. dejun finally makes his way back over, and instinctually you fling an arm around him, too.

the bunch of you look ridiculous; grown adults stumbling their way out of a club in the dark. half present smiles seemingly glued onto your faces. all of you count together as one by one, you take the couple of steps down onto the pavement.

once back on the street, you open your eyes to more than just a squint. the road looks the same as before. time has no effect on this district, neon signs still alight with strangers roaming the streets at any hour of the day. you bask in the warm orange glow of the lamp post directly above you, and you scan around for dejun's suv.

and that's when you see something across the road.

a tall, lean figure slanted against the hood of a car. you recognise his posture all too well.

oh shit. shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.

you'd gotten so carried away tonight that you completely forgot that you weren't even supposed to be here. the drinks flushed every doubt, every worry out of your mind. it is only when your eyes see sicheng standing right across the road from you, and your mind consciously registers that, that every thing you tried to forget comes rushing back to you.

"xiaojun," you mutter under your breath, but he's not entirely in it, either.

sicheng spots the group of you, head tilted, and that's the moment he recognises you, in an outfit he'd never seen you in before, around people that he has seen before. he pushes himself off of the hood and crosses the road. you have exactly 3 seconds before you're done for.

the night is blustery, gentle, but breezy nonetheless. he's wearing a white button up with his sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons undone. as he's making his way towards you, his hands are tucked into the pockets of his trousers.

sicheng takes 3 steps onto the pavement that you're on, and you are met face to face with the guard that you attempted to escape tonight. he quickly eyes the rest of your group, too drunk to even comprehend what is happening and who he is. a misstep happens and three of them stumble, fall, and stack on top of one another. they laugh it off.

he returns his gaze to you. "miss ln."

it's magical the way you suddenly feel sober. confrontation is one hell of an antidote. "listen," you breathe out. but it's no use, even you know it.

sicheng spares you no pity. "shall we head home?"

you don't know what you prefer: him still being cool and calm and collected, or have him be so seethingly furious with you like your father would be. in that moment, you decide that his reaction is much worse. how can he stand there with the state of you like this and still ask such a question with a steeled face? does he not care?

you look over to dejun, who has now walked around you to help his other friends get up.

trying to make up your mind whether to plead your case in that moment, there is something else that you can decide easier. going home with sicheng. there's no use fighting it, and frankly, you didn't want to. so, you take a step, passing by where sicheng stood in front of you, and then another, and until you're across the road about to get into the car. your friends left on the curb—they'll manage, you figured.

your body can't help but shake as you step into the passenger seat. a jittery feeling overtakes you. do you explain? do you not? what even is the explanation?

sicheng gets into the driver seat. he turns on the engine, back up from the parking spot, and begins to drive off, doing this all without a word.

you steal a glance over at him, not wanting to appear too sheepish. a sudden apologetic sentiment freezes your body, but that same feeling quickly turns sour. you open your mouth to speak, but no noise leaves you. quickly, you snap your head back around and lean against the window. the quietness of the car ride has you feeling all the effects of the events tonight.

"you didn't think i'd know?"

your eyes shift over. sicheng's focus is entirely on the road, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that the veins on his arms are prominent under the moonlight. he might not sound angry, but his body language gives it away.

"no, i thought..." you take a deep breath in. "i don't know what i thought," you finally admit.

if he'd heard your answer, he gave no indication of it. he continues driving, fingers still clenched tightly around the wheel. his silence lingers around for a good few minutes. no music, nothing; just the sound of the friction of the tyres speeding against tarmac.

"if something had happened to you, do you know what that means? for all of us?" he asks, in a tone that's more or less condescending.

you stay quiet—you didn't see a point in arguing your case. or maybe it was just the alcohol taking the fight out of you, the steady rocking of the ride seem to begin to lull you to sleep.

the rest of the car ride home was silent. sicheng's grip never loosened. and you can tell none of his frustration dissipated by the way he slammed the car door shut.

as noiselessly as possible, the two of you slide in through the main doors into the foyer. you pull on the heels of your boots to take them off, struggling with your balance slightly. as you're about to make your way up to your room with your boots in your hands, sicheng stops you with one statement.

"i won't tell your father."

you turn, feeling a disjointed mix of emotions. you're relieved, but confused...? and grateful, but suspicious. "why?" you bluntly ask, questioning his ulterior motives if he has any.

sicheng takes a deep breath in and rolls his head to his left side. he takes a single step towards you. the rest of the house is dark, the only light being from the two sconces on either sides of the foyer. as he looks into your eyes, his irises are two swirling rings of mystery. you can never guess what he's thinking.

"because it won't look good on either one of us," he whispers. "if you wanted to go out, you could've just told me and i would've helped you," he added, now with a certain softness breaking into his gaze.

your focus shifts from one eye to the other. sicheng can read every wrinkle in your brow and every glint of confusion in your stare. what are you supposed to make of the fact that the man your father hired to watch you like a hawk is willing to help you get up to things your father will never approve of?

"but why?"

it's as if the drinks had broken down your every guard, every filter that you're so used to imposing on yourself. the bluntness in your tone is something even you didn't recognise.

"tonight proved that you would sneak out regardless of circumstances. so, why not tell me so i can at least keep you as safe as i can?"

sicheng finds himself exploring every inch of your face with his gaze, studying the smudged eyeliner and lipstick on you, before meeting your eyes again. he continues, "i have a job to do, you know?"

it seems as though you're not the only one with a broken down barrier. the formality in which he normally speaks with is nowhere to be heard.

"and why should i trust you?" there's an edge in your voice that makes the question come out as offensive. "i can't," you quickly add before he even has a chance to reply.

and now it's his turn to be stumped. your sudden change in attitude evokes a return of the wince in his eyebrows. "what do you mean?" he falters.

"i heard you yesterday." your head shakes, the clear of your eyes glisten with a lack of faith. "what am i supposed to think of you when you're actively hiding something from me?"

it's like a wave of realisation hits sicheng. he recalls the phone call that he took yesterday, and realises what you must've overheard. it takes him a few seconds to collect his thoughts together.

"you can't possibly think that i would want to harm you."

"i don't know you!" you exclaim, maybe a bit too loud for this hour. "you waltz into my life and tell me that you're trying to save me, but i don't know you."

sicheng exhales and drops his head. his chest rises slowly as he takes in a deep lungful of air. "i didn't want to tell you because i didn't want you to feel... betrayed."

your body language communicates all there is to say. you urge him to go on with a shake of your head and a furrowing in your eyebrows.

"we have reason to believe that..." his voice is small, and soft, as if he's laying down cushioning for telling a child that santa claus isn't real. "the person threatening you runs in your immediate coterie."

your friends. that's what he's hinting at, that's what he's explicitly telling you right now. that possibly someone you went out with tonight have reason to threaten you. sicheng thought that telling you now would diffuse the situation, but in fact, it does the opposite.

"isn't that all the more reason for me to know? and you hid it from me for w-"

"yn," he corrects his slip of words, "miss ln." he cuts you off ever so calmly, "i understand that emotions are heightened right now. i think it's best we talk in the morning."

a knot works its way up into your own chest. your frustration is fuelled even more by his coolness. you stare at his ridiculously poised expression, and in that moment, you give up trying to argue.

you finally begin to walk up the stairs, with your boots still in your hands, ready to crash and give out onto your bed.

you wake up the next morning, or rather the same morning, with a throbbing pain in your head. one of your ears feels blocked and no matter what you do to try and make it so that noise isn't muffled as it filters into your ear, it doesn't work.

in the bathroom, you stare at your reflection and are in shock over how badly you removed your makeup last night. eyeliner stains the corners of your eyelids, patches of concealer are still on the sides of your face. you turn on the faucet, wait for it to become warmer, and scrub the remainder of the products off of your face.

in the midst of washing your face, you realise that you haven't had a proper meal since yesterday afternoon, as signalled by a grumbling in your stomach.

as discreetly as possible, you try to get out of your room, taking a gentle step out onto the hallway. you're not entirely sure why you needed to be stealthy, perhaps it's just the aftereffects of last night.

however, your plan to be concealed quickly falls to shambles as sicheng is, as always, guarding your door outside and your father is walking down the hallway heading in your direction. your heart starts to beat faster and faster; if sicheng didn't stick by his words last night then you are dead for all you know. that conversation you had in the foyer didn't leave your mind even for a second when you tried to fall asleep earlier, and you plan on following up on that talk he offered you.

your father reaches your room and stops to take one look at you.

"goodmorning, father." you utter. a tinge of sheepishness can't help but crawl onto the apples of your cheeks.

"goodmorning, dear," he stretches a warm smile directed towards you, and gives a simple nod of the head to sicheng.

so he didn't lie. that's the first thought following your relief that your father isn't absolutely furious with you. you glance at sicheng as your father walks past you continuing his way down the hallway. he flashes you an expression, one that says, 'what did i tell you?'

sicheng keeps his eyes on your father and as soon as he's out of earshot, he mutters, "surprised?"

a look of almost disbelief takes over you. the nerve on this guy. your heart almost jumped out of your chest and he has the cockiness to make a remark like that.

"stop fucking with me. you still owe me an explanation."

sicheng says with a simple shrug, "i've told you everything i know."

before you can speak back and challenge him, one of your housemaids yell out your name from the foyer.

you quickly make your way downstairs with sicheng following right behind you.

you spot priscilla kneeling down to pick up a package left right in front of the doors to the house. "what is it, priscilla?" you ask, as she begins to stand up again.

"i'm not sure—but it's addressed to you, miss," she responds, reading the tag tied to the parcel with a thin ribbon.

it's odd enough that a package made its way directly onto your doorsteps since the mail that you and your father receive are usually intercepted and collected at the mail room, or placed into your father's study. it's even more strange that it's directly addressed to you with your name typed and printed out in a sans-serif font.

you hold the box in one hand as your other goes to unravel the ribbon. you pull the knot through, and the box undoes itself. the 4 walls fall down revealing another note with your name on it, this time handwritten in a sparkly, gold paint.

you pick the note up and twirl it around with your fingers. sure enough, there's a message for you on the back. it looks like it was typed out on a traditional typewriter, it reads: "next time, i'll have your pretty head along with it" signed with kisses.

you suck in a sharp breath, a shock dawning on you. you look down at the opened box, under the note was a cushioning of tissue paper along with one earring. it took you a few seconds to study the singular earring, then it hits you: the pearl earring that you lost at the gala. your fingers begin to tremble, and sicheng watches as you're overcome with theories and conclusions.

he snatches the note from your hands, eyes scanning every word hastily and sees the earring in the box. it doesn't take him time to put two and two together.

immediately, he voices, "priscilla, did you see who left this outside?"

"no, uh, i opened the door because there was a knock and as soon as i saw the parcel with miss ln's name on it, i called for her." priscilla is evidently taken aback by the sharpness of sicheng's voice. her gestures are overt as she explains the situation.

sicheng pulls his phone out and his thumbs slide over the bottom part of his screen as he swiftly sends out a message.

he turns to you, "i'll go look over security footage right now. yn, go back up to your room." he motions over at priscilla as if to tell her that you needed to be escorted upstairs.

usually, you wouldn't just blindly listen to what anyone tells you, but your mind is running at 100 miles per hour. you recognise that gold paint, the writing, the flicks and hairline strokes that stylised your name. you've received a note from the same person before. only that last time, it wasn't as explicit a threat as it is this time.

...

you haven't stepped foot out of your room since sicheng told you to go back this morning. your maids have come up with breakfast and lunch earlier, but now it's well past dinner time, and the food outside your door remains untouched. the sky outside is darkening, with some rogue streaks of orange and pink as the sun dips below the horizon.

nonstop, you've been thinking it over and over in your head. putting together what sicheng told you and what you know yourself. someone close enough to you is threatening your life—but why? sure, there's the obvious reason that in a matter of days, you may possibly take over your father's title of mayor, but who would risk so much to send you a petty note? and everyone in your circle has a good enough status; what would they have to gain from this? surely, there's a blind spot that you must be missing.

your train of thoughts are suddenly interrupted by a knock at your door.

"come in!"

sicheng walks in to find you curled up in bed, knees tucked against your chest. he glances backwards briefly before closing the door behind him, "you didn't eat?"

"i'm not hungry."

you notice that he's not wearing his usual attire. a thin t-shirt covers his torso, and his regular slack pants are replaced by loose-fitting joggers. his footsteps are muted as he approaches you. there seems to be a debate in his mind whether or not he should be approaching you as he stops with at least 10 feet of space in between you and him.

"did you need me for something?" you mutter, patience thinning out on the edge of your voice.

you watch as he opens his mouth, but a response fails to be conjured up without a pause. "no, i just wanted to check on you."

you throw your blanket off of your feet and push yourself off the bed. the distance that sicheng left between the two of you disappears as you draw nearer to him.

you're not entirely sure what to do, or what to say. you look up at him and he returns your gaze. a breath hitches within you that you try your best to stifle. a knot forms in your throat and you swallow hard, dropping your eyes from sicheng.

"hey," he murmurs airily, bringing his hand up to your face. sicheng stops just short of cupping your face in his palms. you reach for his hand, taking it into your own, and he takes that as a sign to delicately graze your cheek with the side of his thumb. the lightness of his touch floats over your skin. "you're okay," he reassures you with a whisper.

it's hard to pinpoint what it is that you're feeling. there were books and lessons when you were growing up on how to be well-mannered, how to hone in your etiquettes, but there were never any rulebooks to teach you how to feel. especially, in a situation like this. how do we know if there's a right way to process our complexities?

you lean into sicheng's touch. "what can i do for you right now?" his tone coming off as a genuine offer of comfort, rather than him sounding like he is indebted to you.

finally, you lift your head, eyes running up against sicheng until it lands onto his again. "just stay with me tonight," though you meant it as a statement, bordering on an order, it ekes out of you with an uncertainty.

he nods, mouthing a soft 'okay.'

with his hand in your grip, you lead him to the edge of your bed. you can feel the hesitance in him, but he doesn't outright stop in his tracks. sliding into your covers, you shuffle over to make room for sicheng. admittedly, he didn't think this was what you meant when you asked him to stay with you tonight. he thought that he would just spend another night in the chair next to your bed, like he did before, but no.

you sit up against the headboard.

"you're... comfortable with this?" his voice is softer than dusk.

you nod, and with that, he slowly slides into your bed, a respectable distance between the two of you.

sicheng lays on his back, one hand behind his hand as you shift closer to him. though he tries his best to hide it on his face, the beating of his heart gives him away when you lay a hand over on his chest.

he rolls onto the arm closer to you, now face to face with you on the bed, leaving your hand in front of his chest on the mattress. he looks at you with a lustre in his eyes, the strong arches of his brows soften and his eyelids flutter.

you're close enough that you can hear the rhythm of his breathing and feel the warmth of his body against you. your fingers inch back onto his chest, running over the fabric of his shirt delicately, and onto his jawline. the tips of your index finger skim the contour of his chin, and up along his cheekbone. your eyes follow your fleeting touch against his face when it runs back down to the corner of his lips.

there's a few seconds in between you inching closer and closer to sicheng, and him whispering.

"we can't."

you stop—your breathing stops as well.

though you don't voice it out loud, the look in your eyes expresses every ounce of regret that you feel. your hand stiffens on sicheng's face, your fingers resting on the edge of his jaw.

his gaze flickers in between your eyes and your lips. it stays on your lips for a moment longer.

"i can't kiss you like we're lovers, when we're not."

the last three words slip out from his lips breathier than the rest.

you draw your body even closer to sicheng's, until there's only a sliver of empty space in between you.

"then, don't kiss me."

you plant a soft peck on his bare neck, and he can't bite back the tiny hum he lets slip. your lips stick to the warmth of his skin, a saltiness to it mixed with the clean scent of his cologne. simultaneously, he tucks your hair behind your ear, fingers laid flat on the nape of your neck as he pulls you in closer.

his hand runs down the side of you, finding a spot on your waist which he grips onto tighter. your teeth grazes against a vein in his neck and a groan catches in his throat.

your hips seem to have a mind of their own as they start swaying forwards, colliding with sicheng's thighs. "what are you doing to me?" he mumbles under his breath, so faintly that you nearly couldn't make it out over your own humming against his neck.

sicheng is overtaken by instinct. his hand find its way between your thighs, sliding up and down over the softness of your skin. you can't help the purrs of approval that tumble out of you involuntarily.

his fingers trace soft, soft rings on the inside of your thighs, stopping just an inch below the hem of your shorts. whatever you've started, you needed to have more of it. you pull your lips away from him and wrap your fingers around his wrist that hovered so close to the heat pooling underneath you. if he wasn't going to touch you, you'd rather have him not tease you at all.

sicheng looks at you through half-lidded eyes with a faint tug on his lips, "put my hand where you want it."

you drag his hand an inch upwards, and almost naturally, sicheng finds his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shorts. "fuck," he breathes out. "you're not wearing anything underneath?" you smirk, unable to say anything because if you did, he would know how insane the raspiness in his voice drove you.

the tips of his fingers trace along the folds of your cunt, smearing your wetness all over. your breath escapes you shakily, and he revels at the sight of you. god. he knew you were pretty but you've never looked prettier than when you're squirming under his touch.

he rubs a loose circle around your clit with his middle finger, eyes steadily watching your every expression. your whole body is electrified. you feel as though you've come alive just from his touch. then, he draws another. you sink your teeth down into your bottom lip, trying to keep your breathing at a constant. the hand that you have wrapped around his wrist untightens itself and it runs up sicheng's arm, nails digging themselves into his bicep as his fingers move faster and faster on you.

then, they slow right back down. your eyelids shutter open fully, looking at him watching you with a gentleness.

he eases one finger inside of you, engulfed into your warmth. a gasp falls upon you quickly followed by a moan, which sicheng muffles with his other hand. he shushes, "you can hold it in, can't you?" you nod your head against his hand covering your lips. so badly, you want to just scream out his name, but you can't.

then, he slides another finger inside. the two of them drag up and down your heated walls, coated in a slickness. you struggle to keep from sounding out noises that ultimately gets caught in your throat. you pull his hand down from your mouth, managing a breathy, "fuck, sicheng."

he continues shushing you, balanced out with a subdued, "i know, i know." the length of his fingers carries on diving deeper and deeper into you, his thumb working small loops on your clit. you can't help but grind down against his hand, meeting him halfway with every stroke. your own fingers replaces his thumb, rubbing so relentlessly that it makes you throw your head back.

you begin to feel a tightening in your core. each moan that comes out of you is strained and muffled, your sealed lips pressing together so hard that it starts to become numb. "i'm so close," you try to voice out but a broken string of whimpers fall out instead.

your knees impulsively push themselves together, trapping sicheng's hand in between your thighs. "yeah, like that, baby. just like that," he picks up the pace in which he plunges his fingers in and out of you, "keep it quiet, though, okay?"

at this point, you've lost focus on what he's saying. the only thing on your mind is how good his fingers feel inside of you, and the violent pressure that your own fingers are exerting isn't helping. your arm is starting to ache when you finally begin to feel the release in your core. the knot tied in your stomach falls apart and so do you. your hand stops and grabs onto sicheng's wrist again. each moan that's knocked out of you quickly transitions into you panting for air. all sicheng can do is caress your cheek as you slowly come down and steady yourself again against his embrace.

you lay there next to him as you're catching your breath. sicheng comforts you with words that you can't quite hear. you take his hand up to your face, fully shutting your legs together, and lick the slickness off of his fingers. he watches you with a groan as you take his fingers into the hollows of your cheeks. you pull his hand away slowly, and when your lips close together, he lets go of a deep sigh.

sicheng looks deeply into your eyes, the faintest trace of satisfaction visible on his face. "get some rest now, okay?"

a part of you doesn't want to just stop now, but the other part of you is worn out beyond repair, not just from this. your post-orgasm crash wears over you like a spell putting you to sleep, and you have no will left to fight it. so, before you know it, you drift off to sleep with sicheng's arms wrapped tightly around you and your face pressed up against his chest.

he wasn't supposed to and he wasn't planning to, but sicheng dozed off last night with you cuddled up against him. the only thought running through his head this morning: i fucked up. and that's only taking into account that he literally slept with you next to him.

the chorus of bird chirps sounds aloud from out in the garden. the bright symphonies fill the morning air.

as slowly as he can, he pulls his arm back from underneath you, a tingling feeling spreading from where your head laid upon it. hushedly, he slides his legs off of the edge of the bed, trying not to wake you. he stands up, and his movements are halted by a hum from you.

your eyes peer open, and sicheng is glancing back at you. "morning," he clears his throat, "i didn't want to wake you."

"it's alright," your voice scratches. you push yourself onto your palms and sit up, straightening your back. "um," you stutter out, looking around your bed to avoid any eye contact. there's an unspoken tension between you and sicheng that you can sense right away.

sicheng presses his thumb into the palm of his opposite hand and echoes your filler words.

you want to ask out loud, 'why is it so awkward?' but that will probably do nothing to help ease the atmosphere.

sicheng breaks the silence, "i shouldn't have... came in last night."

your eyes dart towards him, but he's looking down at your sheets. is it bad that you felt a sinking in your chest right as he said that? you didn't think you regretted what happened, but maybe you should given what sicheng's stance on it is.

"i don't..." you trail off, unable to finish the rest of your thought.

"it was my mistake. we don't... have to talk about it."

"is that what it was to you? a mistake?" words take over you before your rational thinking can catch up. if you really slowed down and thought it over, his words probably didn't warrant as much of a reaction, but in the moment, you're hurt and that's all you can focus on.

"no, i mean," sicheng struggles to find the proper words to expand on his point. as he opens his mouth again to speak, he's interrupted by someone else knocking at your door.

the knock is closely followed by a call out of your name, "miss ln!"

it distracts you from the conversation, but sicheng's comment is actively sitting on the back burner of your mind. "yes?" you return.

"your father has arranged some prior engagements for you. your chauffeur is waiting for whenever you're ready."

you can't help but let out your frustration in the form of a quiet 'ugh,' before going back and thanking the messenger, which they then dismiss themselves.

you're not in the mood for whatever errand your father has arranged for you. one, because your body is so physically tired out for some reason that even getting up out of bed will take a substantial amount of effort, and two, sicheng will follow you to whatever activity and there won't be a conclusion to this conversation you're having because there's no way you're willing to discuss this in public.

sicheng speaks up after the footsteps travel away from outside your bedroom door, "i'll leave you to get ready."

"don't-"

but sicheng completely disregards you, and leaves you alone in your room.

...

turns out that the 'errand' your father has planned for you was to pick out a few outfits from the atelier. this past week you've been so preoccupied busying yourself with activities that you haven't fully recognised that your father will officially announce you as his successor in a couple days' time. that means more responsibilities, more problems. you don't know if you're fully prepared for it, but it was never up to you; it never has been.

you posed like a mannequin for the seamstress for a good couple of hours. every blazer and every skirt being tailored to fit you perfectly. sicheng sat in the beige couch in the corner watching patiently as she took in your measurements, held up garment after garment up to you in the mirror, and finally was content with what she had created for you.

by the time you were done, you had a handful of bags in each hand, each containing a new bespoke outfit made just for you.

you're walking out of the studio with your new belongings in your hands, sicheng opening the door for you. the designer bids you an affectionate goodbye and you step out onto the concrete, heading for your ride parked in the middle of the lot.

during the whole of this visit, sicheng hasn't said a word to you. and vice versa. so when he's the first to say something, you try to look at him with an indifference in your expression.

"let me carry the bags," he offers.

"i'm alright, thank you."

you'd be lying if you said you weren't at least a little bit upset with him. although you knew there's nothing to be achieved from petty displays of stubbornness, you wanted him to have a taste of his own medicine: his nonchalance, and frankly apathetic attitude.

he doesn't challenge you, perhaps he knows better than to do exactly that. his footsteps trail behind you as you approach the car. your chauffeur pulls open the door to the backseats for you before returning to the driver's seat. sicheng simply observes as you begin to load in the bags, not wanting to tick you off even more by helping.

he catches a flare in the mirror image of the window panes all the way up on the rooftop of a nearby building. he swivels his head around, looking directly at where the spark was in the reflection. his throat tightens.

"yn, get in the car." the calmness in his voice wasn't something you weren't used to, but as you turn and find him fixated at a spot up on a roof, an alarm starts ringing in your head. "now."

you jump up onto the ledge of the footboard and hop inside with a slight panic. sicheng grabs all the remaining bags and throws it in with you. he hastily slams the back door shut and turns his focus towards that same spot again. you can barely see out of the tinted panes, but you think you hear a distant pop and sicheng's body jerks, curving his spine inwards. he clambers into the front seat, a hint of franticness in his movements. the passenger door shuts with a crash and sicheng flings his head back against the headrest.

"drive. go, now." he tells the chauffeur, clearly in a state of confusion, but he listens to sicheng. his voice is weak and breathy, like he just ran a marathon.

you push your way up to the space in between the front seats. "sicheng... what happened?" apprehension sounding out in your words.

he gives a faint shake of the head, his hand gripping tightly onto the fabric over his shoulder as he swallows a lump in his throat. you mutter a faint, 'oh my god,' under your breath as you go to pull his hand away.

sicheng breathes deeper and deeper. you uncover a small hole in his shirt, the edges splayed out with raw threads hanging off of it.

"sicheng-"

"i'm okay," he exhales. does he know how ridiculous he sounds?

a wave of distress suddenly overtakes you. "you're-"

"don't worry, i'm okay."

half of your mind has gone blank, and the other half is still stuck in 5 minutes ago before whatever happened, happened. words tumble out of you, laced with confusion and unease.

...

as soon as you arrive home, you barge in telling your housemaids to call over your doctor. sicheng has one arm wrapped around the chauffeur as he inches in with his help, his other arm limp by his side.

everything blurs past you.

sicheng is set down on the long leather couch, laying against the arm as he holds his shoulder. someone pushes past you to tend to sicheng's injuries, and all you can do is stand and stare.

...

you sit on the other end of the couch watching as the nurse is wrapping bandage around sicheng's shoulder, his torso completely bare. he grunts as she pulls tighter on the strip looping underneath his arm.

"you're lucky it didn't hit you in the ribs, or it'd be a lot worse."

sicheng mutters a soft, 'i know,' sucking in a steady breath.

the bullet sits in a tray next to the couch, completely clean, the light ricochets off of it and it gleams.

you look back over to sicheng, a deep burgundy already seeping its way underneath his skin. if it weren't for the bulletproof undershirt he was wearing, you'd be looking at admitting him into the ER. still, he's not completely devoid of any injuries.

the nurse said that aside from bruising, he had a fracture to his collarbone. "it should heal on its own anywhere in between 6 to 12 weeks."

you nod, and she gives you a brief smile before she helps fasten the sling around sicheng's neck and begins packing up her kit.

several sets of footsteps approach the doorway to the guest room that sicheng was set down in. you don't look over, eyes fixated on sicheng as he winces at any slight movement that he does affecting his injured collarbone.

the footsteps move in closer and closer to you. sicheng hears them as well and opens his eyes. "sir," he manages gravelly.

you and the nurse simultaneously look up, and there you see your father with his assistant a few steps behind him. he nods towards the nurse.

"the doctor couldn't make it on such short notice, but mr. dong's injuries are mild. i've already informed miss ln of mr. dong's condition," the nurse explains to your father.

"thank you for your help," your father tells the nurse. she picks up the kit that she brought with her and bows her head before leaving the room.

the expression on your father's face is ambiguous to say the least.

sicheng takes your father's silence as an opportunity, "i should've been more careful. i'm sorry..."

your father inhales shakily, "it was too close, yes." he looks over at you sitting on the couch, then back at sicheng, "but yn wasn't injured, and i have you to thank for that."

"it's my duty," sicheng simply responds.

your father gives him a satisfied smile. "take some time to rest, i'll have someone else look over your responsibilities for now."

with that, your father and his assistant leaves you and sicheng alone in the guest room, now allocated for his recovery.

you haven't said a word to him since the car ride back.

you sit on the edge of the couch, palms planted flat on either side of you. "does it hurt?" you look over, and sicheng leans on the sofa back, his injured arm suspended in a black mesh sling. his eyes are closed as he takes in a heavy breath after another.

he opens his eyes up to a squint, glancing over at you. "a bit," you think he's gone insane when you see a slight tug at the corner of his mouth.

you shift over towards sicheng, his unwounded shoulder being closer to you. the bandages the nurse had wrapped him up in doesn't entirely cover up his bruising. a gradient of pink, red, and purple spreads over atop his pecs. your fingers trace over his abdomen, hovering when you draw near his injury. "you scared me," you whisper.

"i know," sicheng says, "i'm sorry."

"why would you do that?"

he looks at you, a dazedness in his eyes, "do what?"

"take a bullet like that." you gulp, feeling the coarseness in your throat.

sicheng expels a weak chuckle. "to be honest, i didn't think i would." you peer at him with a tilt of your head. "i was so focused on you not getting hurt, but now that i think about it..."

he trails off.

"what?" you prompt gently.

"i don't think they were aiming at you."

your eyebrows raise themselves gingerly.

"i mean, they had every opportunity to... shoot you, but they didn't. with the time it took me to even notice them, they could've gotten the job done and vanished."

you realise what sicheng's implying. and you suppose he is right. thinking it over in your head, your reaction wasn't the fastest, given the state of shock and confusion that you were in. so, that means they were gunning for sicheng. but why?

he carries on, "and with where the bullet hit me—it was nowhere even near where you were stood." he shakes his head, "it just doesn't make sense."

"so, why?"

"i mean, i don't-"

"no. why would you ever risk yourself like this? a job like this; it surely isn't the first time you got injured."

sicheng looks at your face, so painstakingly close to his. he runs his good hand through your hair, twirling the ends of a strand in between his fingers. "it's not," he smiles weakly, but falls short of an answer to give to you.

you swallow hard. "you know, you've made it clear to me countless times that you're supposed to keep me safe... but who looks after you?"

"i can manage myself."

"i know—you're more than capable. but..." the words you're speaking has to be dragged out of you, a broken intonation. "that's not the same as looking after yourself."

he drops his gaze from yours, fingers now fidgeting and cracking his knuckles as a means of escape from this conversation.

"you don't let me kiss you, you want to forget whatever we did and dismiss it as a mistake. that's fine, but is that what you want, or is it just your guard?"

he turns his head towards yours, but still avoiding eye contact with you. for a moment, you thought he would say something, but he doesn't.

you sigh.

"just let me take care of you while your shoulder heals, okay? i'm here."

you're about to push yourself off of the couch, you lean back, but sicheng holds onto your hand. he draws you in to the spot you were at before. your faces inches apart from each other.

he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, "kiss me."

your heartbeat drums against your lungs. you slide your fingers up onto his face, pulling him in closer. and gently, you oblige.

his lips fit yours perfectly, as if you were both individually sculpted for each other. you try not to lean onto sicheng given his injury, so the most pressure you put on him is through your hands pulling him closer into you. you press your mouth against the softness of his lips, a tenderness to his movements. he breathes your scent in, and it's like it completely soothes the sharpness in his shoulder. you take him in deeper and deeper. his lips had a hint of peppermint to them, but sweeter. he let you utterly devour him against your own lips, fuelling a desire you didn't know you had in you. god, you didn't want to pull away, but your stupid, stupid lungs had to regather some air within them. and you part from him with a gentle smack.

sicheng's eyelids flutter open, like you'd just woken him from a dream. "if your father ever finds out-"

you shush him with a finger up to his mouth. and you attach your lips onto his again.

you're deep into your sleep when you hear alerts coming in nonstop on your phone. you stayed in sicheng's room with him; he's asleep on the bed and you've decided to give him more room by taking the couch. you open your eyes groggily, the sky outside doesn't make it clear to you what time it is. reaching out onto the coffee table, your phone doesn't stop buzzing in your hand.

the brightness of the screen causes you to squint. messages roll in, from dejun. without reading the notifications first, you click onto the grey bubbles. a litter of text threads open up on your phone. ones reading, "are you okay?" and "i heard what happened," and of the like.

stiffly, you go to type in a response. you tell dejun that you're fine, briefly glossing over the situation.

...

the second time you wake up this morning is when you hear sicheng talking to someone just outside of his room, the conversation muffled. he shuffles back in and you're more or less glaring at him, unintentionally.

"who was that?" you strain.

"um," he lightly massages the back of his neck. "they... found the shooter. and he talked."

that instantly catches your attention. you sit up straight, and signal to sicheng to take a seat next to you on the couch.

he slowly paces himself over, his back kept upright the entire time as he sits down next to you.

"the shooter is no one special, but," he begins, an almost sheepish look on him, "he told us who sent him. and we think that it's the same person who sent you that note, with your earring."

"who?" you jump in, impatient for him to tell you.

sicheng looks into your eyes for a split second. the sky outside is still dark. half of your face is lit by the orange ember that glows out from the fireplace.

"who?" you repeated, this time a little bit louder.

"i don't know how close you are to her. rin? full name, rina lee. her dad... owed some debts to your father."

your brows furrow. rin? you've only met her once, and that was at mrs. xiao's gala. what would prompt her to threaten you to such an extreme?

"i'm sorry, it must be-"

"no- what else do you know?"

sicheng sucks in a quick breath. "well, it's rumoured that her father, mr. lee, took a loan from your father. it was never paid back... and let's say your father didn't like that."

you didn't know what to make of your emotions—what to make of yourself. did you deserve this?

subconsciously, you start shaking your head lightly. you were in denial, but of what, you didn't know.

"i'm sorry," is all sicheng can say to provide you with some semblance of solace.

"i just..." you breathe out a heavy breath, "i can't believe it."

"i know, but it'll be over, soon. you'll take on your father's role tomorrow, isn't that something to look forward to?" sicheng tries his best to divert your focus away from the news.

you scoff. and then a sigh.

"i guess."

sicheng runs a hand over your head, smoothing over your hair, "let's go back to sleep, it's still early."

the whole of yesterday you spent getting ready, signing agreements, and attending meeting after meeting with your father. you'd spent the night before tossing and turning, unsure of if you'd be happy with this route that you're headed in.

last night, you were doing the same. tossing, turning, thinking. you never really had a choice, and it's weird how you feel apathetic towards that.

you've always lived comfortably and maybe you're just not ready for that to change yet, that's what you thought to yourself.

you woke up this morning, still a bit shaken up, mind still fuzzied from how your life has spiralled seemingly out of your control over the last week.

and now you're standing behind the drawn back curtain to the balcony, where your father's speech is being broadcasted live.

"serving as mayor to this beautiful district has been one of my greatest prides. but i'm afraid people grow old, and i am experiencing that for myself first hand."

your father's voice wavers, and it stings your cheeks a little.

"nonetheless, i know there has been rumours going around surrounding my retirement. i would like to keep this concise. today, i am officially stepping down as the mayor of district V, and appointing my daughter to serve the rest of my term." he turns towards you, hand stretching out in your direction, and you step out onto the landing.

your father steps aside to grant you some space on the podium. you take a deep breath in, before crouching down slightly to speak into the microphone.

"it is my honour to be appointed the role of mayor for a district as notable and celebrated as district V." you recite the script that your father's assistant had written for you, the syllables drilled into your brain throughout all the practices yesterday.

you remember the words that the assistant had said to you, 'this district's citizens don't care much for politics. they just want to know if they can continue living in their merry way as they did before.'

"i will see to it that this transition is as seamless as possible, and i will do my best to humbly serve each and every citizen to the best of my ability. thank you."

you back away from the podium and disappear off where it is visible on the landing. your father continues on delivering the rest of his spiel.

it's been less than a minute since you've officially accepted your new position, but you can already feel a tightening around your chest. you plop down on a chair all the way on the opposite end of the balcony, thinking it over again. is this what you want?

that's when you catch sicheng peering into the room from the hallway.

"what are you doing here? you should be resting," you jump up onto your feet.

"i didn't get to see you yesterday, so i thought i should at least congratulate you today."

you sigh, and plaster a grin onto your face, "thank you."

sicheng takes one step closer to you. "so, miss mayor, i suppose i'm no longer at your service?"

slowly, you can feel a genuine smile twinging at your lips, "you wish." you swiftly glance over at where your father is, back still facing you. you steal a quick peck from sicheng. he looks at you with his eyes wild.

"what?" you tease.

even though you're not sure the path given to you is what you want, you know that as long as sicheng is by your side, you'll manage to find joy in the little moments. the stolen kisses. and the fleeting glances.

and it's not for ever, anyway. just until this term ends.

"you are now under me," you whisper with a smirk.

humming, he raises his eyebrows with interest. "so, what's the first order of business?"

you roll your eyes. "focus on healing your shoulder up, and then we'll talk."

he leans in closer to your face, a cheeky spark in his eyes. "yes, ma'am."

thank you for reading between heaven and hell ! this fic is a part of a series which you can learn more about here ! hope you enjoyed :)