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choslut · 27 days ago

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── 脹相 + 九十九由基 : CLUB DEMON !!

‹ 𖥔 ࣪ ˖ starring incubus!CHOSO and succubus!TSUKUMO YUKI

꒷꒦꒷ becoming addicted to a mysterious man and his best friend (?) was not on this year’s bingo card, but now that it’s happened, it seems like there’s no way out…

this movie contains the following . . .threesome, slight crack, masturbation, supernatural activity, slight choyuki, sexual fantasies, slight voyeurism, pet names, clubbing, oral sex, teasing, dirty talk, praise kink, nipple play, voice kink, tribbing/scissoring, cum swallowing, making out

this work is NSFW. minors and ageless blogs do not interact with this work or any other in the THRILLER series.

Your love life sucks. Like, actually sucks. Sure, you’re only in university and you have the rest of your young adult life to live out before you eventually decide to settle down, but alas, with university comes couples, and with couples comes that overarching feeling of complete and utter loneliness.

The strong feeling of solitude especially peaks during times like this, when couples are completely occupied with choosing matching Halloween costumes and planning dates whilst you sit and nibble at the end of your pen and try to completely block them out. It’s annoying, because you don’t have anyone to match cheesy costumes with or go trick-or-treating with, and will most likely be spending Halloween night completely and utterly alone.

And it isn’t like you can control it, either. You’re pretty enough, but not in the way the other girls are, the girls who’d look good in a trash bag and can attract any type of male (or even female) attention with just a batter of their eyelids. You envy them, but again, nothing you can do, so you just sit and watch on in forlorn.

Every night is spent alone. Your roommates suck just as much as your romantic life does. They’re out every night getting wasted or worse, and sometimes, they bring back dates that suck just as much as they do, and in more ways than one. You could say that’s the one disadvantage to having paper-thin walls separating you from complete strangers, but there aren’t any advantages to having paper-thin walls, so you digress.

Getting off in student accommodation is fucking impossible. You bought an alleged ‘silent vibrator’ that was just about as quiet as a fully revved up chainsaw, and every night alone you become subject to your fingers and a handful of shitty porn, working yourself up to a weak high before calling it a night and throwing in the towel. Complain as you might, life doesn’t get better after this, and you actually consider dropping out, just so you can finally find someone who can deal with (and perhaps, fall in love with) your mediocre self.

You don’t need help. You need to get laid, and the only way to do that is to drop the nonchalant act and finally get out,

It’s cold. It’s October, so of course it is, but you curse yourself for not wearing something a little more… practical. The chilling wind bites at the back of your legs with every step, and you wrap your arms tightly around yourself as you try to keep up with the rest of the group.

“Don’t look so grim, sweetcheeks, we’re drinking tonight!” You’re confused as to how your roommate (read: a raging alcoholic) is more excited to go drinking than you are considering her tendency to do it every other night. You crack a weak smile in her direction.

“I’m pumped,” you grit out as enthusiastically as possible. “Just a bit cold.”

“Y’just need a couple of shots and a cute guy, sweetie, ‘n you’ll warm up real fast.”

You can’t wait for tonight to be over.

–

You’ve found the one.

He stands against the wall of the club with a glass of what seems to be… water in his hand, and he looks just about as enthusiastic as you to be here. He’s cute, spiky black hair tied up in messy bunches on his head and a few strands hanging over his face, with a striking black strip tattoo staining his nose bridge. He doesn’t look like the type of person to be at a club, but he fits in perfectly, and when he notices you staring, he flashes a small smile.

Sure, it might just be a quirk of the lip, but your alcohol-addled brain takes it as him inviting you over, so you finally hoist yourself off of the bar stool and dip and dive between dancing people before finally sauntering over to him.

“You look bored. Clubbing not your scene?”

He takes a sip of his what-looks-like-water and smiles at you with that same small one he flashed you just minutes ago. “Not really. Here with a friend.” He nods his head towards the dancefloor, and your eyes lock on what looks like the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen.

It sounds like a stretch, but she’s not like all the other run of the mill pretty girls you’ve seen. Her hair is a striking blonde, and she’s not wearing a dress, instead wearing a pair of denim booty shorts and what looks like a bikini top. She’s not dressed for the biting cold outside, but she looks borderline ethereal, and you can’t take your eyes off of her, even when the dark haired man begins to speak up again.

“I’m Choso,” he yells over the music, eyes trained on the back of your neck as he watches you (very obviously) check out his dancing friend. “And she’s Yuki. She swings both ways. Want her number?”

Suddenly, you become incredibly self aware of your staring in her direction, and you whip back towards Choso, giving yourself an embarrassing amount of whiplash in the process. “N-no! She’s just very pretty. I’ve never seen anyone like her before.”

“Yeah, my Yuki’s a looker, isn’t she?” Your mouth drops open in shock. His Yuki? Didn’t he just say they were just friends?

You gape at him like a goldfish. “You’re together?”

Choso smiles again, but this time, it’s a teasing type of smile. “Nah, just friends.” He winks at you before pushing himself off of the wall and downing the rest of his drink. “I’ll see you around.”

And just like that, Choso is swallowed by the crowd. You look back at the dancefloor to steal another look at Yuki, but she’s gone too.

It’s almost like they were never there at all.

When you get home in the early hours of the morning, your head is throbbing, but you somehow remember every detail of the night, right up until Choso disappeared. It was so strange, yet they were both so alluring…

… you never even got their numbers.

You groan into your pillow. So much for Choso being the one, you’re probably never going to see him again.

Of its own volition, your mind slips to the image of Yuki on the dancefloor, her hands trailing down her body sensually as she moved in fluidity with the booming music. She was so pretty, and although you’ve never had experience with anyone, let alone another woman, you find yourself trailing your hands down your body in that same manner, fingertips brushing against the material of your dress as you finally reach your core.

No way. There’s no way you’re doing this, drunk out of your mind and fully dressed in a room with paper-thin walls, with the thoughts of a woman you never even spoke to plaguing your mind like a disease. Suddenly, it’s no longer Yuki you’re thinking about but Choso, his spiky hair and cocky attitude along with his deep voice, a distinguishable sound amongst the booming bass of the club. His is the voice you imagine in your ear as you begin to strum your clit gently.

How would they feel? Choso and Yuki at the same time, him next to your ear and her in between your legs. You only spoke to Choso once and to Yuki not at all, but they’re all you think about when you slip a finger inside, eyes fluttering shut as you frantically search for that sweet spot inside of your cunt.

There it is. Your back arches off the bed and you release a garbled moan of Choso and Yuki’s names, head growing delirious as your finger moves faster. Add another, something tells you, and you obey, sliding in a second finger alongside your first and pulling the neck of your dress down to allow your tits to bounce out.

It feels good. They’d feel good, and that’s what you convince yourself when you cum with a strained whine, spine clicking as your back arches sharply off of the mattress. The orgasm assaults you in waves, and it’s the best you’ve felt a in a while. You ride the waves of your climax eagerly, and when you finally come down, the buzz of the alcohol hits, and you knock out almost immediately.

Before you finally succumb to sleep, you come up with a manifesto. You need to find them again. You need to get that sweet release from their hands, cum on their terms, be theirs completely.

When you suggest going clubbing again the next week, your roommates are shocked. “You? Clubbing?”

“It was fun,” you shrug, taking a sip of your coffee. “We should go again.”

One of them pipes up. “That sounds great! I know a new joint opening downtown, we should totally-”

“It has to be the same one.” Yes, you sound demanding, but you can’t take the chance of going to a different club. What if they’re not there? No, that won’t do. It has to be the same one.

“We never go to the same club twice.”

“Well I want to go to that one. I’ll go alone.”

Your second roommate groans. “Well, we can’t let you go alone. That’s like, against girl code.” She slips an arm around your shoulders, and it feels almost suffocating. “I’ll go if you’re going.”

And just like that, you’re at the same club, in the same dress, at the same time, but Choso and Yuki are nowhere to be found. This has to be some kind of twisted joke.

By this time, you’re desperate. You’re asking anyone and everyone if they’ve seen a dark haired man with spiky bunches or a tall blonde lady, but nobody seems to have seen them, and you’re convinced you’ve hit a complete dead end. When one of your roommates catches your disappointed face, she’s just about as pissed as you are.

“You asked to come here, and you’re not even going to pretend to be happy?” She definitely isn’t sober, especially given the man kissing her neck and the glass of some strangely coloured drink in her hand. “Don’t be fucking boring. Go get laid or somethin’.”

So much for girl code, you think as you turn on your heel to leave. There’s no point in you being there anywhere, especially if the people you went there to see weren’t there either. It sounds superficial, but you never liked clubbing anyways.

The walk home is long and cold. Without the prominent buzz of alcohol warning your system, you feel like a walking ice cube, heels biting at your ankles and arms wrapped around your torso pathetically.

When you finally arrive home, the apartment is empty, and all the lights are off. You’re silently grateful for the solitude, but as you flop onto your bed, tears begin to fill your eyes when you realise exactly how lonely you really are. You can keep telling yourself you don’t need a romantic or social life since your studies are all you need, but it gets increasingly harder by the day to convince yourself of this when all the people surrounding you are really living, whilst you just sit and stew like a complete loner.

Like clockwork, your hand travels in between your legs. Is this all you have? Yourself, you fingers and your thoughts for as long as you can remember, and even as you try your hardest to conjure up the image of your two mysterious subjects of attraction, nothing is working.

“Please..” you whisper into the darkness of your room, pleading with something, anything to help you reach a release.

“You need some help there, sweetcheeks?” You bolt up from your pillow when you hear a strikingly familiar voice in the background. “Doesn’t she look like she’s struggling?”

Your breath hitches when you hear another voice respond, this time a cooler, more feminine tone. “Oh, definitely. We should’ve shown up at the club tonight, Cho’, our girl looks so fucking needy.”

Cho? As in Choso, from the other night? That can’t be…

You try to open your mouth to ask these mysterious entities who the fuck they are, but when you try to speak, nothing comes out.

“Oh, she’s trying to talk!” The female voice giggles. “Don’t worry, honey, you know us. Yuki and Choso, from the other night. You remember, don’t you?”

Of course you fucking remember. They’re all you’ve been thinking about this past week, but to have them actually in your room… this has to be some kind of twisted dream.

“Not a dream, honey,” Choso responds as if he can hear your thoughts. “We’re actually here, and we wanna help you. You want that, right?”

Too many questions. They’re asking too many questions and it’s getting to your head, and the room seems to grow hotter when Choso moves out of the darkness and approaches your bed. He looks… different. The black strip tattoo that was so prominent on his nose bridge extends to his eyes, with sharp lines branching over the apples of his cheeks. His purple undereyes are more prominent too, and he looks almost like a demon.

This isn’t him. It can’t be, but your attention is diverted when Yuki moves out of the darkness too, but she’s dressed in the exact same way she was that one night, bikini bra and denim ripped shorts hugging her curves in a way that has you drooling.

“Do you want to know what we are?” Choso raises a perfectly arched brow in your direction. “We’re not human, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

You nod slowly, eyes wide with shock. Not human? Well, that explains your raging attraction to the both of them.

Yuki points a perfectly manicured finger at herself. “Succubus.” She points at Choso. “Incubus.” Then, she smiles, baring perfectly white teeth. “You called us last week, didn’t you, princess?”

Called them last week? You didn’t have either of their numbers (if they even had phones), so how…

“You were fingering that pretty cunt, and you called us. Who do you think told you to add another finger?” They told you to do that? You thought it was just out of pure need, but alas their presences were actually in your room, guiding you to orgasm without making themselves known.

Your thighs clench at the thought and they laugh in unison, the golden sound of Yuki’s voice intertwining with Choso’s deep rumble. Oh, you need them bad.

“You’ll have us, honey,” Choso drawls, and your bed dips as he crawls in between your legs. “We’ll give you what you want, don’t sweat.”

You can only stare down at him as he pries your legs open, shucking up your dress as he stares in between your legs to find you aren’t even wearing panties.

“No way,” Yuki breathes, climbing onto your bed alongside Choso and joining him in inspecting in between your legs. “You went out like this?”

You nod shyly. Of course you did, because you were expecting to get fucking laid, and walking around with your clit out made you feel just a little bit sexy. You don’t feel sexy now though, because both… demons (?) are inspecting your cunt like they’re gynaecologists, parting your lips with their fingers and blowing on your clit teasingly.

“Oh, she’s sensitive, isn’t she?” Yuki coos at your cunt, bright eyes staring up at you as her thumb strokes the roof of your clit. “Poor pussy’s never been laid, huh?” You shake your head pitfully, and Choso tuts.

“We can take care of you, baby. Just forget about your roomies for tonight, yeah?” Your focus tracks to him and your eyes lock, nodding as if in a trance. “Good girl.”

Just when you think Yuki is finally going to give your pussy the relief it needs, she gets up and crawls next to you, hands reaching into your dress and fingers running over your nipples as she kisses your neck. “I saw you at the club that night,” she whispers in your ear, her plump lips brushing its shell. “You’re so pretty, ‘n I wish you came up to me and talked to me.” She kisses your ear before finally facing you. “Have you ever kissed a girl before?”

Your eyes are soft and innocent as you look at her and shake your head, still not able to speak. Yuki laughs quietly before closing her eyes and pressing her lips to yours. She tastes like strawberries and sin, and you groan when her tongue intertwines with yours in a heated kiss.

“You’re doing amazing, Yuki,” Choso says from in between your legs. “She’s getting so fucking wet right now.” You almost forgot he was there, and when his tongue flicks against your throbbing clit, you whine into Yuki’s mouth.

“That’s it, darling,” she whispers against your lips, her breathing mimicking yours as Choso eats out your cunt. “Let it out for us, baby, we’ve got you.”

Thank God for the fact you’re home alone, because the groan you let out is downright pornographic, your hips ticking upwards when Choso begins to make out with your pussy. You can’t believe you imagined this in the reverse, because having Yuki fondling your tits with Choso in between your legs is way better than anything your need-filled brain could ever have come up with.

“Are you about to cum, sweet girl?” Yuki’s voice is driving you nuts, and you nod rapidly as you feel the coil begin to wind up in your core, this time ten times tighter than it ever has when you masturbate by yourself. Yuki twists your nipples in tune to Choso’s ministrations on your clenching hole, her breath hitching when she spots your eyes begin to gloss over. “C’mon, angel. You need it, don’t you? We need it too, baby, come on.”

You completely miss her say that she needs your orgasm just as much as you do, because white sparks begin to flash behind your eyelids, thighs trembling as they drag you into your orgasm by force, Choso’s tongue never slowing it’s relentless torment and Yuki’s fingers continuing to swipe at your clit.

Everything becomes hazy, and you can barely sense Choso finally detaching from your cunt, his tongue swiping over his lips before he’s circling to where Yuki is sitting by your head and kissing her, their tongues intertwining as he feeds her your taste.

“Doesn’t she taste amazing?” Whilst he’s entangled with Yuki, Choso’s large hand strokes your tummy, his finger pulling up your dress to draw shapes on your bare abdomen. “Like sugar.”

“Totally,” Yuki groans, eyes flicking towards you. “Thank you, angel.”

And you think that’s the end of it and they’re going to leave, but now they’re swapping places, Choso staying at your head and unbuckling his pants whilst Yuki kneels in between your legs, her lips kissing the overly sensitive flesh of your thighs.

It’s hard to focus yet again, because as you watch Yuki begin to play with your cunt like a cat plays with a ball of yarn, Choso is suddenly pressing the flaring tip of his cock to your lips and tangling his fingers in your hair. “Hi, angel. Can you suck on this for me?”

You nod. You can’t do anything but nod, especially when he’s finally slipping his cock into your mouth, head bobbing as you try to take him whole.

“You’re distractin’ her, Cho’,” Yuki’s whining, and her shorts are off too, moving your legs to weave with hers as she presses her clit to yours. “Baby won’t be able to grind back if she’s busy suckin’ you off- hah-“

“Shut it, Yuki,” Choso grunts animalistically. “We’ve got what we want, so she doesn’t really even need to cum again.”

“But it’s n-no fair if you get to cum and I- ugh- don’t.” Her hands are squeezing your hips and pulling up against her as her own move in a hypnotic rhythm, her clit bumping yours over and over and over again, working you up gradually to another high. “You know it lasts longer if we get to cum too.”

Everything they’re saying is going over your head, and your senses are in overload. Choso’s cock is hitting the back of your throat repeatedly and you can barely breathe, but the lack of oxygen makes each of Yuki’s thrusts hit harder, your hips twitching with each grind of her own.

“Mmh, is this pretty pussy gonna cum again?” Yuki’s voice is a sweet drawl, and she bends over to begin sucking at your nipples, her hips picking up the pace. “She’s gettin’ sensitive, right?”

Before you can even look at Yuki, Choso is dragging your head back to him, his hips all but thrusting into your mouth with repeated fervour. “Don’t pay attention to her, look at me.” His balls slap obscenely against your chin and his head tips back in a groan, his dark hair streaming over his shoulders and face marks growing more intense as he quickly approaches his orgasm. “ ‘M gonna cum, baby, and I need you to swallow it. Can you do that?”

You shouldn’t swallow because he’s not even a fucking human, but your lust addled brain complies with his demand, eyes glazed over as he finishes in your mouth messily. Yuki gasps against your tits as she watches on, hips stuttering as her orgasm begins.

It’s all too much. Yuki is twitching against your overheated body and Choso is seemingly still cumming, this time slipping himself from your mouth and slapping his cock on your parted lips as his cum stains your face. Your own orgasm hits you like a truck, body shivering as the heat of Yuki against you makes you borderline delirious.

“You look so good when you’re cumming,” Yuki groans against your chest, her plump lips kissing your skin repeatedly. “You’ve done so well, angel.”

Choso grunts in agreement, a condescending smile on his lips as he trails the tip of his cock along the stream of cum on your face. You feel debauched but it feels amazing, like everything you dreamed about and more.

And you don’t know it yet, but you’re theirs now, and even when Yuki dismounts your cunt and Choso (reluctantly) tucks himself away, you’re left shivering on the bed, thighs wet with yours and Yuki’s mixed release and face shiny with Choso’s cum. Yuki reaches out tentatively to stroke your destroyed face, but Choso grabs her wrist roughly.

“No,” he grunts. “We have to leave her like this or it won’t work.”

Yuki nods, her face solemn. “Right.” Instead, she leaves a fleeting kiss in your hair, her hands stapled to her sides. “We’ll see you again, pretty.”

And just like that, they’re gone… almost like they were never there at all.

꒷꒦꒷ click here for all things THRILLER !! next up : COSTUME PARTY ft. geto suguru, gojo satoru and ieiri shoko !!

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#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso #choso x reader #choso smut #yuki tsukumo #yuki tsukumo x reader #yuki tsukumo smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk smut #anime #anime x reader #anime smut

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hyperions-light · 4 days ago

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Okay so clearly the Lighthouse book club is kind of like movie night except those haven’t been invented yet

But hypothetically

Here’s movie night with the crew

Harding: you know it’s a complete gore fest. Every single Saw movie you’ve ever heard of, plus the ones you haven’t, Hostel, Terrifier, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, etc. you definitely lose some people before the night is over bc it’s just TOO bloody but at least Harding and Taash are having fun. Lucanis and Davrin sit there complaining about how that’s not what it looks like when you draw and quarter someone

Neve: It’s all noirs, murder mysteries and psychological thrillers. Maybe some Blade Runner for diversity. She solves the mystery 5 min into the movie but won’t tell you the answer. Bellara is taking notes on everything and Neve looks over occasionally and nudges her in the right direction. The tragic antagonists make Emmrich sad

Bellara: Think she’d do a little bit of everything? But there’s definitely at least four documentary feature films on wildly variable subjects. She’s going to put on like Planet Earth, and then an Elvhen history one, and then like How It’s Made for some number of hours and then you look up and you’re halfway through the extended edition of Lord of the Rings

Lucanis: oh man. You’re watching Atonement, The Notebook, 50 First Dates, When Harry Met Sally, Sleepless in Seattle; whatever corny romcom you can think of. And then he’s playing the entire catalogue of Hallmark movies. You thought this movie marathon was only one night? Ha! This guy is mainlining caffeine and hasn’t slept in four days, you’re going to exist in a haze of sleep deprivation interspersed by emotional confession scenes. Have fun

Davrin and Taash: they are teaming up to make you watch the entire Fast and the Furious franchise, all the John Wicks, the Independence Days (I think it has sequels?), the Expendables, the Top Guns, I don’t know any more action movie franchises. Things are going to explode, preferably with a lot blood so that Harding is happy too. When everyone falls asleep Davrin puts on Marley and Me to watch with Assan

Emmrich: Mr Art House Cinema over here. I hope you love reading subtitles because at least 50% of it is in other languages and involves people soliloquizing for three minutes at a time and then staring at barren landscapes forlornly. Also at they’re all preoccupied with death in some way. What was that movie where Daniel Day Lewis was a clothing designer and his wife was poisoning him but he was into it? You watch that. You only watch a movie per week though because you have to have time to think about the artistic merit of each one

*I forgot Bellara would love Mythbusters

+ check reblogs for bonus features

#veilguard #dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #datv spoilers #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #veilguard spoilers #dragon age the veilguard #davrin #taash #neve gallus #bellara lutare #lucanis dellamorte #emmrich volkarin #lace harding #this is silly #there’s not like real spoilers in this but just in case

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heartseungs-archive · 4 months ago

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the dreams we’re scared of | l.dh

genre ♠ murder mystery au, thriller, romance, angst

pairings ♠ crime scene investigator! haechan x reader

word count ♠ 17.8k

synopsis ♠ There’s something about seeing a dead body in front of you that makes it more real, almost as if the death is your own. But when your nights get more sleepless with every new victim, Haechan fears you may be in over your head. Especially if a serial killer’s still on the move, watching every move the both of you make.

warnings ♠ kidnapping, mentions of blood, violence, vulgar language, mentions of alcohol (nothing too graphic however this is a murder mystery so dead bodies are described to some relative detail)

info ♠ the idea of csi! haechan is just really sexy. i’ve never actually watched csi

Your footsteps are the only sound that accompanies you at this time of night, besides the occasional lone cricket. Here, the shadows seem longer, and the distance between each streetlight further and further. The one that you pass flickers brokenly, gnats buzzing in and out of your vision.

The darkness is solid enough that you could touch it if you wanted. Yet, with every step you take, it retreats just a little, enough for you to see the tips of your white sneakers against the rough gravel pavement. It continues on until you see the familiar street sign. You’ve walked this alley hundreds of times, but it never gets any better.

You’re strangely tense, but you suppose it’s just because of the jitters that being alone naturally gives. Still, there’s an uneasy feeling resting in your chest, the pace of your breathing slightly heavier.

Tonight feels different. Even the moon is hiding behind the clouds, almost as if it’s scared. It’s nothing, you tell yourself, but your pace gets just that tiny bit faster.

However, there’s a slight dissonance to the footsteps. You’re not the best at hearing, but it doesn’t just seem like an echo.

You pause, just briefly.

The sound of footsteps continues.

Something is very, very wrong, and the feeling of danger seizes you, enough for you to start breaking into a run.

The rapid thudding of someone else’s shoes against the ground follows immediately, and you try to focus on the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears, the cadence of your breathing.

You’re so close to the exit of the alley, the turn to the main road, that you can see the light leaking onto the pavement from the corner of your vision.

You’re so near that you begin to hear the familiar rumble of the cars on the highway when a hand grabs you roughly and you fly back.

A choked scream barely escapes you before your body is slammed against the pavement painfully and your face follows after. You don’t even get to see the man above you, his face veiled.

Darkness surrounds you, heavy and choking and endless, and you sink into it like quicksand, unable to escape.

Your eyes fly open wide, and there’s a soft gasp that escapes you. Around you are the walls of that exact same alley, but sunlight floods through brightly, and you can see the little cracks in the cement, bits of green poking through.

Another difference is that the alley is not deserted, but instead filled with the buzz of chatter, and the occasional chuckle.

The very last, and likely most important difference is that the girl lying dead on the floor isn’t you, but Kim Mijoo, twenty-six years of age, estimated time of death 3.45am.

You stride over, ducking underneath the yellow tape that blocks off the crime scene. For a job so macabre, the vibrant colour seems abnormally cheery and out of place.

“I think I’ve figured it out,” you state to the two men who are there before you are. Doyoung has his arms crossed, worrying his lip tiredly when he turns to face you. Next to him, a man with pink hair is crouched down next to the body, inspecting it closely. When he looks up at you, eyes curious, your breath hitches.

Not the time, Y/N. For god’s sake, there’s a dead body. You scold yourself, but it doesn’t do much.

“I think the assailant grabbed her from behind. There’s very obvious head trauma, but it doesn’t seem to be from a weapon. He probably slammed her head into the gravel, and that’s why there are bits of it embedded in her skin. The wounds on her neck seem like strangling, but there’s no evidence of a struggle. She was likely already unconscious or dead when he did it.” Your face is blank as you describe it, and Doyoung tries to hold back a grimace, but he nods. A glimmer of pride enters your heart, but it’s quickly quashed by a bitter feeling when you look down at Mijoo. Having her name makes it feel personal, almost as if you know her.

Haechan remains silent as he looks at you, gaze heavy. You try to avoid it.

“We’ll go with that for now, and confirm it when we get the medical report. Let’s head back to the office for now, and see what we can get from the evidence,” Doyoung states grimly, before waving over the coroner.

The last you see of Mijoo is her face, bloody and bruised, before it is zipped up smoothly into a pristine white bag. Still, your eyes follow as she’s dragged into a van unceremoniously like a piece of cargo.

Doyoung is already ahead of the both of you, getting into his own car.

“You need to stop putting yourself into the shoes of the victims,” Haechan mutters lowly, and you jump at his voice. In the sunlight, his faded pink hair is almost bronze. His face lacks any amusement, and you shrug.

“It gets the job done. You saw how Doyoung looked. Everyone’s stressed,” you defend.

“Still, that can’t be good for anyone. Or healthy.” There’s a sliver of concern in Haechan’s voice, and you smile shakily at him. Haechan’s right, like he is most of the time. There’s still cold sweat beading at the base of your neck from your little spiel, and a chill that refuses to leave. Still, it’s insignificant compared to the fear that Mijoo must have felt, and that’s what you tell yourself each time you allow your overly vivid imagination to aid you.

The both of you remain quiet on the journey back, and you try to enjoy the bustling scenery of Seoul that passes you by. However, Mijoo’s face keeps flashing in your memory, unwilling to leave. You’re quite sure it won’t until the case is closed.

When you finally enter the station, you’re immediately hit in the face by the freezing air-conditioning, and the frantic buzz of activity. Neither you nor Haechan slow your footsteps, however, as the both of you turn a corner and take the private staff elevator up to the sixth floor. The office here is much quieter, an almost deathly calm, which you suppose is appropriate for the kind of work you do.

You’ve been in the Major Crime Division for three years, and the work only gets more interesting day by day.

“Y/N. Haechan. Doyoung’s waiting for the both of you in his office.” Jaemin’s desk is near the front of the office, and he’s always the first to welcome the both of you with a smile. You try to grin back, but Jaemin doesn’t expect much. He’s obviously heard of the events that transpired this morning, and he was the one to get the civilian call when the body was reported.

You don’t bother to knock when you slide open the glass door of Doyoung’s office, which is as clean as the first day you walked in and he handed you your badge. A wooden nameplate lies on his desk, the word ‘Superintendent’ emblazoned in glossy letters.

“Here’s what information we have on her. Kim Mijoo works as a waitress at a bar in ltaewon, which explains why she was out so late. She lives in Gangseo, and was murdered along Gangseo-ro 76 gil.”

You hear Haechan’s sharp intake of breath at Doyoung’s words, and know that he’s thinking the exact same as you. Gangseo has the highest violent crime rate in Seoul, and for good reason. No one in their right mind would go there late at night, unless they had to. For her to be a waitress in Itaewon and live in Gangseo…it was likely that Mijoo wasn’t just a waitress, but offered more to her customers.

It seemed in poor taste to point out the obvious truth, and you’re grateful for the silence that befalls the room. She had already died an undignified death that she didn’t deserve, even if most people on the street would sneer at her choice of occupation.

Yet, you saw it for what it was. A woman who needed to keep a roof over her head somehow. Not so different from yourself.

Despite his tendency to crack jokes in inappropriate situations, you’re grateful for Haechan’s tactfulness now, as he remains sombre, standing next to you.

“Apparently, she’s made a report for sexual harassment against a man by the name of Yang Seojun, but that happened two years ago. Still, it’s one of the only leads we have.”

You look up sharply, your mind spinning through possibilities. “It has to be someone she knows. The crime seems premeditated, and they must have known her path home. Seojun may be a main suspect, but it could very well be a customer or a colleague,” you reasoned.

“I suppose we’ll have to make a trip down to Itaewon then,” Haechan replies simply, hands tucked into his slacks. Doyoung nods. “The both of you go ahead. I’m still waiting for forensics to get back to us. I want the both of you off work punctually though, got it?”

His tone is stern, but you nod, knowing that he’s doing it out of concern. For all his coldness and sharp tongue, Doyoung is a good superior to you and Haechan. He doesn’t misuse his power, doesn’t make unreasonable requests, and pulls his weight as much as anyone else. He’s part of the reason why you’ve enjoyed working here so much, even if the pay is less-than-ideal.

You’re back in Haechan’s car again before you know it, the address of the bar keyed into his GPS. He drums his hands on the steering wheel, occasionally humming to whatever song is playing out of the speakers.

“Can you not look so damn excited? We have a crime to solve on our hands,” you huff, levelling a sharp glance at Haechan. He simply shrugs in acknowledgement. “Unlike you, I’m not some psychic empath. Itaewon is fun, even if we’re technically on official work.”

“You better not run off,” you warn dangerously, and Haechan smiles smugly. “I won’t drink until the questioning is done, okay?”

“That’s fine, I suppose.”

The journey down to Itaewon is slowed by the heavy buzz of traffic and heralded by the slow change of grey-toned skyscrapers to neon lights. The area that both of you are in is further from the most crowded parts of Itaewon and looks much older.

“This place is deserted,” Haechan mutters when he’s done parking his car, keys casually dangled in one hand. You narrowly avoid a puddle that’s filled with trash and something that's very evidently not water, trying not to wince at the smell of vomit.

“Well, it’s a Monday. I doubt many people would be out partying at this time,” you reply as the both of you push open a glass door that is smudged with grime. The stairs are narrow as you descend, and your grip on the railing is tight.

When you reach the bottom, however, the walls are noticeably newer, leading to two dark wooden doors that are in much better condition. Haechan knocks sharply thrice, before stepping back.

After what seems like an eternity, the door opens, and a lady steps out. Soft jazz music escapes from the bar into the cramped hallway that both of you are standing in. She’s wearing a long-sleeved black dress, her hair pulled back in a neat bun with two perfectly-placed curls framing her face. Her eyes are catlike, sharp as she takes in the both of you.

“We’re not open yet. Come back in three hours.” However, before she can shut the door, Haechan quickly jabs his foot in. In close quarters, he towers over her, his expression void of emotion. If you didn’t know him, you would probably be intimidated. Still, the woman’s gaze remains steely, her hand resolutely on the door handle. You suppose she has plenty of experience with troublemakers, and Haechan’s actions are barely a cause for concern.

“We’re conducting an investigation on behalf of the National Police Agency. Senior Inspectors Lee Haechan and Y/N L/N, Major Crime Division. I’m afraid you’ll have to let us in.” Haechan’s tone is polite, but with an underlying sharpness that tells you he’s not joking.

If he has to, he’ll break down this door to get what he needs.

However, the lady just smiles even wider, her pearly-white teeth a stark contrast from the shade of blood-red that her lips are painted. “I’ve had people come in here telling me they’re superintendents, executives, chaebols, and diplomats. Most of them were vastly overselling their identities. Unless you have proof or a warrant, I don’t want to see you here.”

“You have an employee. Kim Mijoo. She left this place at around three am on Friday,” you interject, and Haechan turns back to look at you.

Something flashes in the woman’s eyes, and she immediately focuses on you. “Did Mijoo get into any trouble?”

You feel as if you detect a hint of fear in her voice, but you ignore it for now. “Not trouble. She was murdered. We’re currently investigating, so it would be wise of you to not obstruct a public official’s duty.”

There is a beat of silence, and then two. Your eyes remain fixed on her as she swallows, eyes blinking minutely. Finally, the pressure on Haechan’s feet is eased, and she retreats backwards.

“I suppose there’s no avoiding my civic duty, then. Come in.” Her voice is level when she speaks again, with no evidence of any shock.

The bar inside is surprisingly upscale, considering its dilapidated exterior. The walls are lacquered wood with hints of gold, and your shoes clack softly against the black marble floor. You follow her past the bar counter, into a hallway filled with curtains. She pushes one aside to reveal a private room, gesturing for the both of you to take a seat.

The plush velvet of the armchair is soft against your back, but your back remains stiffly straight. You’re never really able to relax while on duty, while Haechan easily slouches back into a relaxed posture.

“We’ve got an hour until my employees come in, so that’s the time you have. There aren’t any cameras in this room either, so don’t worry about that.”

The image in her file finally corresponds with the woman sitting in front of you, who looks vastly different with make-up. This is Song Chaeyeon, thirty-four years of age and the owner of the bar that Mijoo has been working at for the past eighteen months.

“Great. We just have a few questions. What is your relationship with the victim?”

“She’s just an employee. We are friendly enough, I suppose. However, she is much closer to a few of the other girls that work here.”

“Do you know anyone who might have had a motive for the crime? An unruly customer, perhaps?” Chaeyeon shakes her head.

“Our customers are all regulars. They’re familiar with the girls here. No one would try anything, as far as I know. However, if the girls get personally involved with their clients, then….I can’t guarantee. But no one would know that except them.” You understand what she’s insinuating. Prostitution may be outlawed, but there are so many other possibilities.

“We’ll need a list of all the employees here, along with any customers that Mijoo has interacted with, even in passing. In addition, we’ll need corroboration for the whereabouts of everyone on that list on the night of the murder. It would also be good if we could speak to the employees that Mijoo is close to today. Otherwise, they can come down to the station within the week,” you say monotonously as if reciting a script. This isn’t your first murder investigation, but it is the most confusing one.

Haechan has remained silent throughout the entire thing, but it’s no surprise to you. He prefers not to be involved in the technical procedure, which you’ve naturally taken over instead. As much as either of you hate to say it, he’s the muscle when the both of you are out on official duty. Although you’ve never encountered any real danger, or deliberately put yourself in a situation that might warrant serious risk, it feels good having a safeguard, a partner to watch your back.

And once the both of you return to the station, he’s the first one to throw himself headfirst into research and pore over the information you’ve gathered, while you’re there mainly to bounce ideas and help with organization.

“You can speak to them today. Everyone will be here, as we get ready for the week. If the both of you are willing to wait in this room, they should be here soon.” You nod, attempting a polite smile. Despite her cold demeanour, she has been helpful, and you have no interest in getting on her bad side unnecessarily, especially since this is one of the few sources of information you have.

She casts another glance at Haechan, who remains unmoving. You nudge him with your elbow, but he ignores it, only humouring you with a tilt of his head. After a pause, she leaves, and the only thing that remains is the unfamiliar scent of her floral perfume.

“Thoughts?” You finally give in to your curiosity, wondering what’s kept Haechan silent all this time.

“I don’t particularly trust her, but we’ll have to work with it,” he states, resting his hands on his knees while the both of you are temporarily allowed some solitude.

The first person you interview is a shaky, nervous waiter who barely looks past twenty. He responds to each one of your questions with a stutter, evidently distraught from the moment he walked into the room. From the way you meet Haechan’s eyes and he sighs, you know this isn’t the person you’re looking for.

The second one is more promising, however. If Chaeyeon is to be believed, this is Mijoo’s closest friend at her workplace, a girl who only joined a few months after her.

“Xiaoting. You’re not a local, are you?” Haechan asks, and she shakes her head. “Moved here a decade ago. I’ve got my papers at home, if you need to verify that.” Her voice is terse, as if anticipating the question you have on the tip of your tongue.

Sometimes, you find yourself hating it too, the way they shrink back from you, knowing the authority you represent. It’s most definitely not a burden for you to shoulder, and neither is the blame on Haechan, but he understands, squeezing your hand comfortingly and taking over the questions.

“There’s no need. Thank you for cooperating with this investigation. We asked Chaeyeon this just now, but do you know anyone that Mijoo was closely involved with?”

“Close enough to motivate a murder?” Her tone is direct, and you are slightly taken aback, but you nod.

“There are a few that come around here and there, but I see Woo Eunhyuk with Mijoo most often. I’m not sure if you’ve heard of him, but Yang Seojun. He was Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend.”

“The one that she made a harassment report against,” Haechan mutters absentmindedly.

“Yeah. They broke up about three years ago. But he kept coming to find her, and got drunk here. Smashed a few bottles in the process too. I’ve never seen him threaten her, though. But if you’re asking me who murdered her, I’d only have one obvious suspect,” she replies, and you hum in thought. It’s plausible enough. A classic story of a violent ex and a crime of passion fits the bill a little too perfectly, and it’s definitely something the newspapers would love. It would be easy to simply close the investigation there, but you’re not too excited to come to a conclusion just yet.

“You’ve been very helpful, Xiaoting. If there’s nothing, I think we’re done here.” Xiaoting nods, but she seems to hesitate slightly, as if there’s something she wishes to say.

“Mijoo was my friend. I know what other people think of us, working in places like this, but she didn’t deserve any of that,” she says nervously, eyes aimed at her lap. Her shoulders are sunken, and you feel a sense of sorrow for the girl. She’s likely no older than you.

“Feel free to call us if you need anything, or if you think of any other information that might be helpful. We’ll do our best,” you reply, and Xiaoting smiles gratefully at the both of you.

As you and Haechan exit, the image of Xiaoting sitting in the room alone, shoulders sunken, lingers. You jolt slightly when you realise it’s already dark outside, the sun rapidly setting. The streets are slightly more crowded now, and your phone lights up with a text from Doyoung. Despite the fatigue, you smile at his message, which is an insistent reminder to get off work.

“You know what? I think I need a drink,” you state, rubbing at your temples, and Haechan lets out a scoff.

“Drinking when we have work tomorrow? How unlike you,” he teases, but Haechan is quick to stride towards the nearest bar he sees, the red pop-up tent visible from a mile away.

He holds the curtain open for you as you step in, the odd chivalry of the gesture causing your lips to tilt up. Inside the small space, the sound of chatter seems intensified, your other senses dulled by the steam that billows above the food.

You and Haechan find yourselves a table in the corner, the feeling of the rickety stool strangely comforting. Before you know it, there are four bottles of soju on the table and two steaming bowls of kalguksu in front of you, along with a few sides. You realise that neither of you have had a meal since you headed down to the crime scene in the late morning, and you’re starving. For a while, both you and Haechan don’t talk at all, instead focused on the food.

“I know Doyoung said we’re off work, but I think we have an obvious target. Even then, something about this doesn’t feel right. I feel like there’s more to this.”

“Xiaoting said that he hadn’t been to the bar in months, since the last time he appeared and Mijoo had to chase him out. So why would he murder her now?” he questions, and you shrug.

“Premeditated crimes take time. Even then, six months is a long time to wait to kill someone, I suppose.” You’re lost in thought, and Haechan grabs the empty shot glass from your hand to refill it.

“Something might have instigated it. A confrontation, maybe.”

“Do you think we can get access to Mijoo’s phone? Text messages, perhaps.”

“From what I heard, the water damage was a little too much for the old model. But Jisung and Chenle will see what they can do,” he assures, and you nod, deciding to leave it at that for now. As much as you enjoy your work, you don’t wish to pester Haechan with thoughts on it, not when the entire purpose of this meal is to unwind.

The first day is always the worst day, and it doesn’t get better until the both of you solve the case. And then the cycle starts all over again.

You watch as Haechan orders two more bottles, and you squint at him, confused. “Didn’t we agree on four bottles?”

“We’re not university students anymore, Y/N. You can handle a bit more than two bottles. If not, I’ll just drink the rest,” is Haechan’s smooth reply, and in your slightly tipsy state, you don’t question his statement.

The both of you had instituted that rule for both your sakes after a bad test had the both of you downing ten bottles and waking up with a splitting headache and no memory of the night before. Four bottles were comfortable enough that you felt the effects, but outside of the dangerous territory where you might do things you would regret.

Two hours later, there’s only one full bottle left on the table, and you’re really feeling the effects of the alcohol now, while the man in front of you is still relatively sober, the flush on his neck the only betrayal of his sobriety. Haechan wavers occasionally in your vision, and you grin at him.

As much as you don’t believe in using alcohol to avoid your problems, it feels nice to have it temporarily shifted to the back of your mind, clouded by the drowsiness that is quickly flooding into your limbs.

“Hello, Hyuckie,” you mumble to no one in particular, but Haechan perks up. He hasn’t heard the nickname in years, and you only seem to use it when you’re tipsy or extremely tired. Usually both. He takes a quick glance at his watch. It’s half past ten, and he runs calculations through his head. The both of you have to be in the office at nine tomorrow, and you wake up at seven-thirty.

“Y/N, we should go,” he says, tugging at your arm, but you only look up at him, smiling blearily. Up close, your face is flushed, your eyes clouded as you blink drowsily to clear your vision. Your bleary-eyed expression is cute, Haechan thinks, but he quickly dismisses the thought in favour of pulling you up from the seat and towards the exit.

He needs to get you home. Otherwise, you’re going to be dead on your feet from exhaustion tomorrow.

He’s quick to hail a cab while keeping an insistent grip on your arm to ensure you don’t wander off. You’re much more excitable when you’re drunk, a complete opposite from your usually composed self. It’s a direct contrast from Haechan, who’s loud when sober and withdraws into himself once the alcohol hits. And as much as he finds the way you act endearing, he’s also half-terrified he’ll turn around to see you gone in the crowd of people.

The entire drive, the taxi driver keeps glancing back at the both of you, and Haechan thinks it’s because he’s terrified that one of you might puke your guts out into his car. When the car stops, he slips the elderly man a few extra notes, before helping you out gingerly.

He lets out a sigh of relief when the both of you are finally outside your apartment door, and Haechan reaches underneath the doormat for the spare keys, not trusting your hand-eye coordination right now.

He’s halfway in and his shoes are off before he realises you haven’t followed him in, instead leaning against the wall of the corridor half-asleep.

“You are the most troublesome person I know,” he complains as he drags you in, only to be met with a weak hit on his back.

“I wonder what everyone at the office would say if they knew that you were prone to such violent tendencies,” Haechan mutters, only to be hit another time.

“They would say…that you’re a big bully. Who’s always stubborn and makes me do all the boring work,” you retort. However, Haechan can’t take you very seriously, especially when your eyes are closed while you say it. He lets out a barely-audible laugh, and immediately guides you to your room, where you’re quick to lie down.

“Well, this big bully is the one getting you home safe and into bed. You’ll thank me when you wake up,” he says, unlacing your sneakers, but he looks up when he doesn’t get a response. Your breathing has slowed, and Haechan realises you must have fallen asleep. Despite himself, he smiles.

You’ll complain about sleeping with your work clothes on, but there’s nothing much Haechan can do. He’s done a rather decent job of removing your makeup, or at least that’s what he thinks as he disposes of the wipes in the bin. There’s a set of his clothes that he keeps here for occasions such as these, and he’s quick to make himself comfortable on your couch.

You had added a few more pillows a few months ago at his protest, and Haechan found it much easier to fall into a drowsy state, addled by the alcohol.

His last thought is of you, before his eyes finally close and he drifts off.

“Can anyone get in touch with Woo Eunhyuk? I’ve been ringing his line all morning,” you state, frustration creeping into your tone. Of all the inconveniences to befall you, this one feels particularly pointless.

“He’s currently on a business trip in the US and won’t be back till the end of the month,” Jaemin replies, and you try not to sigh. A month is a long time, especially when he’s a prime suspect.

“If he was just a normal businessman, we’d have a much easier time,” Haechan points out, and you glance at him. “What do you mean?”

“Searched the guy up out of curiosity. He has a net worth of twenty million.” Jaemin lets out a low whistle at that, and you crumple the paper in your fist unwittingly. You understood what Chaeyeon meant now, and found it almost befitting. Itaewon was a place where you could find anything and anyone, where the two opposite ends of society could be found in the same room, mingling. It was a place of enjoyment, of indulgence, but also of danger.

“Well then, nothing we can do but keep looking. Seojun’s been brought in already, by the way,” Doyoung reminds, and you grit your teeth.

Today will be another long day.

You make a beeline for the pantry, filling up a glass of water and popping a Panadol before anyone can notice.

Out of the blue, you hear the sound of footsteps approaching the office, before a man rounds the corner, a police officer behind him.

Yang Seojun is here.

“Speak of the devil,” Haechan mutters under his breath as he observes Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend and the prime suspect in your case. At first glance, he looks unassuming, with a white blouse tucked neatly into khaki shorts and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses framing his face. Even though his shoes look a little scuffed, he looks normal. Typical.

Nothing like a man who murdered a woman in cold blood, but you’ve learnt from previous cases that most of the time, the more innocent the suspect looks, the viler their crimes.

“Yang Seojun, is it? I’m sure you’re aware of why you’re here,” you state when you’re finally in the interrogation room, Haechan next to you. Outside, Doyoung watches intently on the screen.

“I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking.” There’s a wild look in his eyes, starkly different from the blank stare he had when he was first brought in. He’s reminiscent of a cornered animal, and it fills you with a strange sort of uneasiness.

“Relax, it’s not time for that yet. Where were you on the night of the murder?” Haechan questions, fingers drumming gently on the table. His face is illuminated by the glare of the laptop screen, reading glasses perched on his nose.

“At home.”

“Anyone who can provide an alibi?”

“I live alone.”

“You have two sexual harassment reports filed against you and one for disorderly behaviour, along with a report detailing your history with alchoholism. Is that correct?” Yang Seojun’s file feels heavy in your hands, but you’re familiar with it now after flipping through it incessantly.

He nods. “But I’m in rehabilitation now. And I haven’t…the report wasn’t proven. I didn’t harass Mijoo, I swear. I loved her. You have to believe me,” Seojun pleads, his hands on the table.

You swallow as you meet Seojun’s insistent gaze, averting your eyes from him. You’re not sure what to believe, which you suppose is the worst part of doing a job like this. The suspicion and doubt that it casts over everything, where you have to ignore your gut instinct because of the kind of people you deal with.

“Someone will come in later to verify your statement. You’ll be kept in custody for the next forty-eight hours. It would be a good idea to contact your lawyer, or any members of family.”

“I don’t have a lawyer. Or any other members of family,” he says lowly, and you suck in a breath, looking at Haechan, who seems as fatigued as you are. However, before either of you can respond, there’s a loud banging on the door, before it swings open.

“Jaemin, we’re right here. You don't have to break down the door,” Haechan chides. However, you’re unable to be amused at the joke, a concerned frown on your face. Jaemin is careful and gentle. He doesn’t bang on doors unnecessarily, or ever. However, he’s now frantic, eyes darting back and forth in a panic.

“Y/N. Haechan. There’s another body. They found it at the Han River. I don’t-” Haechan shoots up from the chair, immediately pushing Jaemin out of the room as he curses under his breath.

Seojun looks as taken aback at the news as you are, but you’re not willing to deny the possibility that he might be an excellent actor. You attempt to assess his response to no avail, and instead give up in favour of following after Jaemin. The piercing scrape of your chair against the floor causes you to cringe slightly, but you quickly recover.

“God damn it, Jaemin. The fucking suspect is in the room. You can’t just burst in and say that.”

Haechan’s tone is harsh, understandably so. However, any disagreements now will only make things even worse. Jaemin stands, looking admonished, and you place a gentle hand on Haechan’s arm to pull him back. Haechan’s eyes meet yours, and you remain silent, looking at him meaningfully. After what seems like a moment too long, Haechan steps back, running a hand roughly through his hair.

“Doyoung left to go down already. I-I’ll give you guys the address,” Jaemin forces out, getting a post-it and marker from his desk. His hands are trembling as he does so, the writing shaky and barely legible. Your heart pangs looking at him, but you know he’ll be fine eventually.

Now, you and Haechan have another body to inspect.

“Renjun, forensic pathologist. Good to meet you.” The man standing in front of you extends his arm out, and you smile tightly back as you shake his hand, grip firm. His features are delicate, pale white skin standing out sharply against his harshly cropped black hair. In his hand is a Ziploc bag, a few test tubes resting inside.

“I’ve completed the autopsy, and the likely cause of death is suffocation. However, the body has been in there for at least a week and putrefaction has set in extensively, so we can’t be entirely sure.”

Two weeks. That’s before even Mijoo’s death, and you can tell Haechan is thinking the same thing from his sharp exhale.

‘However, it seems like there are marks on the neck that have been made with a sharp weapon. They don’t seem like feeding marks from animals, which are on other parts of the body,” Renjun continues stoically, and you attempt to quell your nausea, which appeared the moment you saw the girl’s body, bloated and greenish-blue.

Gritting your teeth, you force yourself to nod, uttering a note of thanks to Renjun. Haechan follows after, patting Renjun on the back. His eyes had lit up with recognition at the sight of the forensic pathologist, and you realised they must have been colleagues at some point. Before Haechan came to your current workplace, he had a brief stint in pathology, while you had specialised in criminology. It was another reason why Doyoung had paired the both of you together. Combined, Haechan’s and your expertise made the perfect duo to assist him.

“On the bright side, the weather’s cold now. If it was summer, we might not even have a body anymore,” Haechan utters, and you rub your hands together reflexively. He’s trying to take your mind off the murder, but it’s quite difficult, considering this is literally what the both of you are paid to do.

“Seoul hasn’t seen a serial killer in twenty-five years. However, if these two cases are unlinked, that means we’ve got two murderers to find. Which just might be worse,” Doyoung replies, and you’re sure that the swirling worry in his orbs is reflected in yours.

“And we barely got anything from Seojun’s interrogation too. There isn’t any CCTV footage from where Mijoo was killed, and we haven’t been able to determine where the body from the river was dumped yet.”

“If the river freezes over, we’re fucking screwed,” you continue, now realizing that the situation is much direr than you expected. There are little leads, two dead bodies, and the time is quickly ticking away.

You’ll die before you let this become a cold case.

“Come on. We won’t be any more good standing here than back at the station.” Haechan tugs your arm in the direction of the car, and you follow him mindlessly. The trees around you are barren, the roads and buildings a shade of dusty grey. Winter is usually your favourite season, but all it does now is fill you with a sense of numbing coldness.

You’re flipping through the autopsy report when Haechan comes to your desk, two coffee mugs in hand. “Thanks,” you say as you take a large sip, feeling the warmth course through your body.

The newest victim is Park Sunhee, twenty-three years old. She was last seen on her university campus, attending a lecture on a Friday morning. And then no one heard of her whereabouts, and her friends assumed she had gone home to visit her family over the winter break.

Until her cold body washed up on the shore of the Han river, discovered by a horrified couple.

What’s the link between the both of them? Is there even one? Think, Y/N, think.

Haechan can see the invisible gears turning in your head, and he decides to leave you to it, going back to his desk. Despite the fact that both of you have this case on your hands, there’s still plenty of administrative work to clear. He takes the stack of unread files from where they sit untouched on your table, and you’re so lost in thought that you don’t even realise

Until your personal phone rings, jolting you out of your reverie. You make sure the door closes behind you before you speak again.

“This is L/N Y/N. May I know who I am speaking to?”

”Hello.” The voice that comes out is a smooth timbre, almost pleasing to the ear. It’s obviously a man, and you furrow your eyebrows, not recognizing who it is.

“Apologies for disturbing you. This is Woo Eunhyuk. I tried calling the station and my call did not get through. Is now a good time?”

The businessman, you realize. And suspect number two. You immediately get out of your chair and exit the glass doors of the office, Haechan’s eyes following you. You’re known not to take personal calls during work hours, so why the change now? Still, he remains in his chair, unmoving.

“You can speak now,” you say.

“My secretary just informed me of what happened to Mijoo. I’m sorry for calling back so late. Quite unfortunate, isn’t it?”

Your first thought is that he doesn’t seem to find it very unfortunate at all, but you suppose everyone has a different way of coping with loss. After all, you’re not even sure if he and Mijoo are as close as Xiaoting claims. For all you know, the poor man has nothing to do with any of this.

“Apologies for the inconvenience caused, Mr Woo, but we’ll need you to come down to the station as soon as you return. I hope you can understand.” You’re pacing across the hallway as you say it, and you’re not entirely sure why you feel slightly intimidated by the man on the phone.

“Of course. I’ll be there within the week. Y/N, was it? I’ll remember the name,” he mutters, and there’s almost a smug charm to the way he speaks. The way he says your name rubs you off the wrong way, and you find yourself shivering despite the lack of air-conditioning in the room.

“Senior Inspector Y/N. You may refer to me as that. If you need anything else, do call the station.” you say coldly, and hear what seems to be a muffled chuckle before you hang up. However, it’s cut off much too quickly for you to be sure.

“Hey, what was that?” Haechan asks, and you’re about to tell him, but you hesitate. He’d definitely worry if he knew that Woo Eunhyuk called you personally, and you don’t want to add more unnecessary burden to the case. After all, he’s already coming down to the station by this week.

“Nothing. Just a family friend asking something,” you respond, smiling slightly, and Haechan nods, turning back to his computer.

“Sorry for making you come in so late. Two days before New Year’s Eve, no less,” you say, attempting to plaster a polite smile on your face. Opposite you sits Woo Eunhyuk, in a tailored suit and hair gelled back neatly. The watch on his hand likely costs more than your yearly salary, but you ignore it.

“It’s my fault for being overseas and returning at the last minute. Honestly, if there hadn’t been so many delays at the airport, I would have saved you much more time.” His teeth are pearly-white and perfectly aligned as he smiles at you, and you can’t help but see the disparity between him and Mijoo’s ex-boyfriend.

“I’ll keep this short then. I’ll need information about your relationship with Mijoo and your whereabouts on the day itself.”

“I met Mijoo one year ago. The bar is one I patronise often, and I bring my clients there. Mijoo was overseeing our tables quite a few times, and she was good at memorising preferences and striking up a conversation, so I tipped her extra to wait on my tables when I was there.”

“Did your relationship with her ever extend outside of the workplace?” Your question seems to make Eunhyuk pensive, and he shifts in his seat before nodding.

“We were romantically involved for a while, and I will admit we were quite close. Physically and emotionally. But she eventually broke it off because of work, and we maintained a professional relationship. We were good friends up until her death.” There’s a note of sorrow in his voice now, and Eunhyuk stares off blankly into space as he says it. Does he still love her? It sounds so different from the voice you heard on the phone, but you suppose the questions are forcing him to relive unwanted memories.

However, he clears his throat, snapping out of the temporary trance. A smile makes its way onto his face again, so rapidly that it confuses you.

“On the night she passed away, I was in my study. My house staff are usually sleeping at that time, so no one can verify it. However, I can send you the footage from the security cameras in my foyer and garage. Would that be sufficient to prove that I was home?” He asks, and you nod hesitantly.

When Eunhyuk leaves, you’re left with the thumb drive of his security footage, which you run through. He isn’t lying. Which you suppose leaves you with one obvious option. Still, you feel as if there’s something missing, tugging at your brain, but you can’t remember what. A confirmation of some sort, to verify your suspicions.

The file on Park Sunhee is painfully thin, but everything you need to know is there. She goes to Yonsei University and majors in architecture and works a part-time job at a cafe.

Your mind comes to a screeching halt, the image of Yang Seojun flashing into your mind.

Yang Seojun in the interrogation room, wild-eyed and frantic.

Yang Seojun in the interrogation room, wearing a Yonsei University jersey.

Your hands are trembling as you switch on your laptop, but you keep going until you find Seojun’s suspect report.

It feels inevitable, the few moments that hang in the balance before you scroll down to what you’re looking for.

Major: Architecture, 2nd year, reads the report, and despite everything, a slight smile makes its way onto your face. You immediately pick up your phone, and the ringing of the call tone is the only thing that you can hear.

“Doyoung. I figured it out.”

It all seems to happen too fast for you to process.

There’s a final interrogation with Seojun before he’s dragged off, the last reckoning for him to defend himself.

However, Seojun seems defeated, almost withdrawn. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he’s considerably thinner than the last time you saw him. However, he doesn't resist when the officers come, handcuffs ready.

“There are witnesses who verified seeing him with Sunhee last, and that they dated for about three months before a messy breakup. He was also at the Han River late at night a month before, which corresponds with the estimated time of Sunhee’s death,” was what you had said to Doyoung and Haechan the morning before. They had nodded, Doyoung patting you on the back gently in commendation. You had finally allowed a glimmer of pride to make its way onto your face.

It fits the bill almost too perfectly, like a poorly written plot for a television show. Yet, you’re sure of it like you’ve never been surer of anything else.

There’s a gentle peace that fills you as you watch Seojun leave, even as the way he holds your gaze unsettles you.

“It’s over,” Haechan mumbles, and your shoulders sag, but you feel light.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Happy New Year!” Jaemin exclaims, and you jump at the sound of the champagne bottle popping. You’re smiling, and it’s the most genuine smile you’ve had in the past two months.

The champagne goes down smoothly, leaving a trail of fizzy bubbles in its wake. Even Doyoung’s happier, mouth wide open in a toothy grin. Renjun’s here too, along with Chenle and Jisung, the evidence technicians. You’ve all worked together, and you’ve made it.

“Good job, everyone. To a new year,” Doyoung toasts, barely catching himself from stumbling. Everyone cheers, and you simply grin from where you’re sitting with Haechan. He meets your gaze, and tilts his head, refusing to tear his eyes away from you. For some reason, you feel your cheeks heating up, and you quickly avert your gaze.

You’re sure that if you looked at him now, he’d be smirking, the cocky bastard.

Solving the case has left you all too heady and excited, which is a bad condition to make decisions in. You’re tempted to be impulsive, now that there’s less to worry about. You shake your head in a futile attempt to clear it, and hastily get up, making a beeline for the hallway, away from the festivities.

“Y/N.” Haechan’s voice is distinctly clear in the silence of the hallway, and you turn to look at him from where you’re leaning against the wall, mug in hand, It’s quite funny, really, how Doyoung had forgotten to bring champagne glasses, forcing all of you to use the coffee cups instead.

“Donghyuck,” you reply, and Haechan pauses slightly. He supposes he’ll never really get used to you using his birth name, but he doesn’t particularly mind it. He leans against the wall with you, shoulder to shoulder, and the both of you stand like that for a while, in comfortable silence.

“Do you remember when we were in our third year of university? When we had that stupid argument over whether a criminal justice major or a forensic science major was more important?” You suddenly ask, and Haechan lets out a laugh.

“Of course I do. You didn’t talk to me for a week after that,” he teases, and you huff in exasperation.

“Well yeah, because you were annoying,” you whine, and Haechan simply rolls his eyes.

“Sure, whatever you say. Why are you bringing it up now, though?” Haechan asks, gaze alight with curiosity. You remain quiet for a while, and Haechan’s about to repeat his question when you finally respond.

“I’m just thinking about what twenty-two-year-old Y/N and Donghyuck would say if they saw us now. I think they would be proud,” you murmur, and Haechan immediately grabs your hand, flashing a soft smile at you.

“Yeah. I think they would.”

“Y/N! Haechan! What are you guys doing out here? Come back in. Jisung brought cake,” Chenle shouts from where he’s standing, and your attention is immediately drawn to him.

“Come on, let’s go,” Haechan urges, tugging you along by your arm without a second thought.

“Wait. The phone’s ringing. I’ll get it,” you say once you enter the office. Everyone else is too caught up in rowdy conversation to hear it, and you attempt to balance the paper plate that Renjun handed to you, a slice of cake in the middle.

“Hello, this is Officer Kim from the Metropolitan Police Agency in Gangnam.”

“Yes, how may I help you?”

Your attention is quickly drawn to the rest, however, as you realise they’ve started counting down.

It happens in slow-motion, as most momentous things do.

Five. The words of the officer on the phone sink in, and you blink slowly.

Four. Your grip on the receiver loosens, and you feel it slip from your hands.

Three. The cake follows quickly after, landing in a mushy heap on the ground.

Two. The barely-audible, confused voice of Officer Kim rings out, asking if you can still hear him.

One. You sink to the ground, unmoving, not daring to breathe. No. This can’t be real.

It’s like there’s a muffle over your ears, as if you’re submerged in water, even as you’re vaguely aware that the other guys are cheering while watching the fireworks come up from the city centre. It feels like hours before the office suddenly falls silent, and they realise that you’re on the floor, champagne spilt, though it was likely less than a minute.

Haechan’s the first to enter your line of sight, his pink hair in your peripheral vision. His face comes into focus despite the blur of your surroundings.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” He’s crouched down to your level, hands on your shoulders, eyes worried as he scans you for signs of injury.

Your mouth refuses to form words, even as you look up at him, eyes desperate. The only thing you can do is shake your head insistently.

As if that will change the situation.

Doyoung, observant as ever, is the first to pick up the receiver. Haechan watches as his expression turns stone-faced, and he hangs up.

The office is silent, everyone else looking at Doyoung, holding their breaths.

“What is it,” Haechan demands, his tone firm as he holds Doyoung’s gaze. There’s very little that shocks Doyoung, but Haechan thinks this might just be the first.

“Another body. Still fresh. Barely died an hour ago, in fact.” Everyone’s eyes are wide, not sure what to do with the news.

“No. No. It can’t be. We found Seojun. There’s proof.” Your words come out broken and clipped, as you shake your head frantically. You’re shaking, and Haechan, for once, is at a loss on what to do.

Renjun’s the first to regain control of the situation, telling Chenle and Jisung to get their things and pushing Doyoung in the direction of the office. Haechan looks at him expectantly, knowing that he should likely be getting ready to leave as well, but unwilling to leave your side.

Renjun immediately sees the torn expression on Haechan’s face, and he understands. You’re his friend too, after all.

“Bring Y/N home, Haechan. She’s probably gone through a shock. We only need you guys there tomorrow anyways, after we’ve done the autopsy.” Haechan looks at Renjun then, nodding before gently helping you up. It’s at times like these when he’s grateful for the older boy, who always seems to know what’s on his mind.

You’re quiet, eyes glassy even as you get into Haechan’s car and he drives in the direction of your apartment. His gaze darts to you every so often, and Haechan thinks he’d give anything to know what’s on your mind right now.

However, there’s nothing much he can do other than get you to down a cup of hot tea and aspirin, so that you’re not hungover tomorrow. You’re quick to sink into a fitful sleep, and Haechan decides to leave you to rest, reluctantly closing the bedroom door behind him. He takes a quick shower in the guest bathroom, and watches a show mindlessly on the television. He’s not enjoying it, but it helps his mind to blank, and that’s sufficient for now.

It’s so cold.

That’s the only thought in your head as you shiver violently. The cold is piercing to the bone, almost painful, and it’s so dark that you can’t see your own hands in front of you. You feel strangely weightless, as if there’s something holding you up. It’s almost comfortable, except for the fact that you’re beginning to feel numb from the chill.

Until you inhale, and instead of air entering your lungs, it’s water.

You’re drowning.

Your limbs move frantically, but you’re no longer weightless. You’re heavy. So very heavy, that even as you can see the surface above you, it seems so very far away.

Precious oxygen bubbles out of your mouth, and you can feel your lungs burning, struggling to keep you moving. Your eyes are burning from the water, and your limbs getting more sluggish.

Fear fills you, frigid and unrelenting, as you twist your head frantically.

You let out your first scream when you start sinking even further, the dim light of the moon draining away bit by bit, along with your strength.

No one can hear you, not even yourself.

You’re still screaming when you wake up.

“Jesus, Y/N. What happened?” Haechan’s voice is frantic, and he’s leaning over you. It takes a while for his features to become clear in the dimness of the room, and you blink slowly, taking in your surroundings. In another situation, you’d likely be flustered from how close his face is to yours. However, you’re still trembling uncontrollably, cold sweat beading on your forehead and neck.

Before you know it, you’re sitting up, Haechan’s arms around your body and your face nestled in his neck. He’s warm, and you find your heartbeat slowing down slightly from its breakneck pace. Haechan’s hands smooth over your back gently, and he offers you his presence wordlessly, waiting for you to speak.

“I had a…nightmare. That I was Park Sunhee, and I was the one drowning,” you mumble lowly, but you know Haechan can hear you.

You expect him to chide you, perhaps. You know you get too involved in the cases, and feel too much for the victims. A double-edged sword, you suppose. It’s not the best thing for someone who has such an occupation, but you can’t help it. Even as you try to tear your thoughts away from them, you can’t.

Mijoo. Sunhee. And the newest victim. You don’t even know her name yet, but she’ll probably haunt your nights as much as the two of them do.

“How long has this been going on?” Haechan’s tone is gentle, however, as he helps you upright to face him, eyes roaming over your face. His hand comes up to brush your cheek gently, to wipe a stray tear that you didn’t even know escaped.

“I’m not sure. A week after we found Mijoo, maybe?” Your voice is hoarse, and hearing the unfiltered fear in it fills Haechan with pain. That’s almost two whole months.

He realises that there was more to your newfound exhaustion in the office, the dark circles that appeared suddenly. Haechan had assumed it was just the normal toll of taking on such a large case, along with your tendency to stay up late. He hadn't questioned it, but now he desperately wishes he had sooner.

Maybe if he did, he could have done something. And you wouldn’t be here, tortured by repeated nightmares that had you waking up screaming.

He wonders how many nights you had to do this alone, waking up to stare into the darkness of your room.

“You’re safe here, Y/N.”

“I know.. It’s just-it’s okay. I’ll be fine. Thank you for being here.” your voice trails off, and Haechan understands, even without you making it clear.

“Get some rest, alright? We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow,” he reminds, and a shaky smile makes its way onto your face, despite the fear that hasn’t entirely cleared from your heart.

Haechan stands up, but not before he makes sure you’re lying back down, pillow adjusted comfortably.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need anything, okay?” Haechan makes his way to the door, and despite his reminder, you’re seized by a slight panic.

“Wait. Donghyuck,” you call out, and he turns back, eyes expectant. Almost as if he’s waiting for you to ask him something.

“Can you stay? Just for tonight. Please.” Your voice is honest, vulnerable, as you look at Haechan, his face half-lit by the light from your living room.

It feels like too many moments pass, your heart dangling on a precipice, before he nods, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. There’s a faint smile on his face as you move over and he climbs in next to you.

“Is this okay?” He asks, when the both of you are finally facing each other, his face barely inches from yours. His arm is loosely wrapped around your waist, and your head is curled into his chest. “Yeah,” you reply and it comes out muffled in the quiet of the room.

The regular sound of his heartbeat in your ear is oddly calming, and you finally feel your breathing ease up. Haechan’s warmth is the last thing you think of before you drift off, and it’s the first dreamless sleep you have in weeks.

The camera footage is played. Again, and again. Yet, there’s nothing besides the buzzing static and a screen that fades to an endless black. It doesn’t make any sense. Gangnam is one of the safest districts in the entire city, and there were police milling around at every corner.

In spite of that, thirty-five-year-old Song Chaeyeon was dead in an alley, head bashed into the wall. She was thirty-four the last time you met her in the club, a hardened woman who didn’t seem to want anything to do with the investigation.

And now, she was never going to turn any older.

“There has to be something we’re missing. Maybe Seojun has an accomplice-”

“Or it might just not be him.” Haechan cuts you off, and your footsteps skid to a halt from where you’re pacing.

It’s the truth that you don’t want to admit, but he’s always been straight to the point.

You scatter the photographs over the kitchen island of his apartment, arranging them in order. As if some sort of connection will fall from the sky if you stare at them hard enough. It’s been less than three days since Chaeyeon’s body was discovered, and less than forty-eight hours since you collapsed on the floor of the station.

“Y/N. You haven’t had any food all day. At least eat something before we continue.” There’s a pot of ramen balanced carefully in Haechan’s hands, but you ignore the smell that makes your mouth water. The moment your mind drifts back to the image of Chaeyeon and her neck at an unnatural angle, your appetite dissipates into thin air.

“I’m fine.” You shake your head resolutely, turning back to the photographs. Ironically enough, Criminal Minds is playing on the television in the background, as if mocking you. You try not to tug at your hair too hard, even as you fiddle with it out of frustration.

“You have to eat, you know that-”

“I have to solve this case, Donghyuck! If you don’t want to help, fine. Just don’t be in my way,” you burst out, and he falls dead silent, staring at you with an unreadable expression in his eyes. You inhale sharply, rubbing at your eyes.

“You’re not responsible for their deaths, Y/N,” he says softly, a knowing gaze in his honey-brown eyes.

You hate Haechan a little in that moment. You hate the way he looks at you, understanding the fear and confusion swirling in your heart. Most of all, you hate that he’s right, that you’re not responsible for any of this. You wish you were, that you knew a way to stop it. But you’re helpless in the face of an invisible perpetrator.

The room suddenly feels a little too stuffy, your collared blouse tightening around your throat. You’re consumed with the need to clear your head, and your fingers scrabble for your bag. You turn impatient when you’re unable to find the familiar packet, tipping the entire pouch over.

Haechan watches your motions, half-confused and pensive, until he frowns, grabbing onto your wrist tightly.

“Y/N. I thought we talked about this.” His grip is stronger than yours, and forces the pills in your grasp to be held up high, even clear under the ceiling light. The accusing tone in his voice forces your gaze to tear away from him guiltily, and you shrink back.

“You know I only take them when it gets bad,” you explain, but Haechan remains unmovable, quickly plucking the packet from your grip and throwing them in the bin. “They’re painkillers, not magic. You can’t rely on them for everything.”

“Haechan, my stomach really fucking hurts-”

“Then eat. You need proper meals to get better, not some-” he lets out an agitated exhale, before continuing, “-chemicals that will only make you feel worse.”

It’s not that Haechan’s a disbeliever of modern medicine, but he knows you know that you’re not sick, not the kind that requires this sort of medicine. But the sharply bitter taste is oddly comforting, especially when you feel your abdomen cramp from a combination of nerves and stress.

You wouldn’t call yourself reliant on it - addiction is a dangerous line to tread, and you have no intention of ever crossing it, but it seems to appear more often whenever your work gets particularly difficult.

And it seems these past few months have been particularly bad, if the sleeping pill bottle on your nightdesk and the multiple chamomile tea packets are anything to go by.

Still, the warm concern in his eyes is enough for your shoulders to sink, relenting to his better intentions. You know that this is something Haechan won’t back down on, and it makes you feel a little better, the knowledge that even if you don’t have your best interests in mind, there’s someone who does.

You swallow thickly, finally meeting his eyes. “I know. I’m- I’m sorry I lashed out at you. That was unnecessary. And I’ll try to reduce the Panadol to zero,” you promise, hands falling to rest on the countertop. There’s guilt and fear swirling in your eyes, and Haechan’s heart breaks a little at the sight of it.

He cross the kitchen island and wordlessly wraps you in a hug towards him while you lean your head into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his musk soap. The both of you know each other well enough that there isn’t much of a need to exchange words.

You’re grateful for his presence, more than he’ll ever know. You’re not sure if you’ll ever find the words to thank him, sufficient sentences to string together to express your gratitude.

But for now, the both of you remain standing under his kitchen light, and you can’t help but think that it feels nice to have someone’s warmth against yours.

However, it seems that having Haechan by your side still isn’t quite enough, especially when you wake up in a cold sweat in the darkness of the room.

Your hand scrabbles across the bedsheet, frantic, before it finally lands on his warm palm, causing your breathing to slow a little.

You’ve made a habit of sleeping next to Haechan whenever one of you stays over, which is most days. It seems that it’s becoming harder and harder to pass the night alone, even if you’ve checked the lock twice and closed all the windows. You’re not sure if he minds, and you’re too afraid to ask.

“Y/N. Hey. Look at me,” Haechan’s voice cuts through the silence of the room like a knife, and you’re not sure when he helped you up to a sitting position. You’re still shaking slightly, his eyes drowsy but concerned as he looks at you.

It’s awful, the way this irrational fear digs its claws into you and refuses to let go. You’ve handled cases worse than this. And it makes you feel even more guilty that Haechan is the one left to handle the aftermath, to hold you together. You’re supposed to be his partner, not dead weight.

You close your eyes, as if to prevent you from confronting something you don’t want to. “It’s nothing, Hyuck. I’m sorry for waking you.” Your soft apology carries a note of burdened guilt in it, and it makes Haechan’s heart twist uncomfortably in his chest.

He wishes he can rub away the tears budding at the corners of your eyes, but he decides to settle for intertwining your fingers with his.

“Don’t apologise for this. Tell me if there’s anything I can do to make it better. Anything,” he promises, and the way he whispers it makes it feel like a confession.

There’s no one else in this room except the both of you, and what happens will stay within these walls.

Perhaps that’s what pushes you to lean forward and slot your lips over his in a moment of poor thinking.

For a fleeting moment, Haechan returns it with equal fervour before he seems to regain his senses, freezing in his cross-legged position on the bed before he pushes against your shoulders gently but insistently. You try not to let the hurt show on your face at his open rejection.

“Y/N- what-”

He’s definitely awake now, bewildered at your actions. At least he isn’t looking at you in disgust, which means the situation is less dire than it could have been. You swallow heavily, before refocusing on him.

“You said- I could tell you if there was anything you could do to make it better,” you stutter out, and Haechan nods slowly, as if unsure of what he’s agreeing to. His eyes dart down to your lips temporarily, and you wonder if it’s temptation that fills his gaze.

It definitely isn’t love, or maybe it is. You’re too scared to ask.

“Then let me have this. Please. I need a distraction, or something like it,” you plead.

You can’t bring yourself to care if he breaks your heart, if you have to swallow your feelings for him and let them wilt away. You’ll happily take whatever pieces of himself he’s willing to give, because how could you not?

You know this isn’t a normal request, that it’ll probably change the trajectory of your friendship with him permanently.

But Haechan and you are far from normal at this point. From the mix of fear and desire evident in his eyes, you guess that the man in front of you is thinking the same as well.

The waiting is almost painful, as you look at him with bated breath. Yet, it’s likely only a few moments before Haechan nods, clearing up the heavy feeling in your chest instantaneously and filling you with a longing so desperate that steals the air out of your lungs.

This time, when you lean in, he doesn’t pull away.

It takes one week of fruitless investigations before Doyoung finally snaps and decides to bring everyone out to unwind, promising that he’ll pay for a few rounds. Haechan can feel stress creeping at the back of his neck by the time the clock hits six, and he’s quite sure it’s not just because of the case.

He can’t stop thinking about kissing you. Well, kissed. He kissed you, and then the both of you never spoke about it after. He knows very well that it was a spur-of-the-moment thing, fueled by a cocktail of exhaustion and fear that seemed like desire when sufficiently intoxicated. Pretending it never happened, however, still leaves a bitter taste in Haechan’s mouth, even if he knows that there are larger things at hand.

It might not have meant anything to you. But for Haechan, who has been harbouring feelings for you for close to three years, it means everything.

He had heard of you from his lecture deskmate, the criminal justice major who had aided in a major financial investigation at nineteen - to say you were a bit of a prodigy was an understatement.

When his Criminology professor had assigned the both of you together for a lecture, he had been brimming with excitement to finally see you in person.

But that admiration had only remained as friendship - until five hundred and twelve days ago, when the both of you had been sitting on the floor of your apartment, a long-opened bottle of wine between the both of you.

You had tried to kiss him then too. But Haechan had been sober, and he didn’t want you to do anything you might regret, even if there was disappointment in your eyes when he gently pushed you back by your shoulders.

He tried not to make it too obvious the next morning, when you had shuffled into the kitchen and made no mention of it.

And now, five hundred and twelve days later - he was still nowhere near getting rid of his feelings.

It had only gotten worse once you had pulled him close in the darkness of your bedroom, and Haechan supposes part of it is karma kicking him in the ass. No good person would take advantage of their friend’s vulnerable emotional state to get what they want, especially not when said friend was his best friend of half a decade.

But Haechan’s not a beacon of virtue, as much as he would like to be, and he can’t help but cave when it comes to you. If a distraction was what you needed, he would gladly provide it as many times as you needed, even if it meant his heart fractured a little each time you joked around with him nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just have his lips against yours a few nights ago.

“Here, take this.” Renjun appears at the right time, and passes Haechan a cocktail that’s an unnatural-looking shade of blue. “What’s this?” He can’t help but peer at it suspiciously before taking a tentative sip. It’s sour, the sharp taste of vodka immediately searing its way down his throat before quickly being soothed by an artificial lemon syrup .

“Blue lagoon. It’s Y/N’s favourite, so I thought I’d give it a try. Speaking of which, where is she?”

Haechan realises a bit too late that everyone is looking at him for an answer, and he shrugs helplessly. “How would I know?”

“Because you’re always attached to the hip with her. The last time she called in sick, we got an email from you before her doctor,” Chenle blurts out, causing Jaemin to nod in assent.

Haechan rubs a hand over his face tiredly. Truth be told, he is curious about why you haven’t contacted him at all today. “Just- don’t ask me about Y/N right now.” His curt response immediately captures the attention of the rest, Renjun’s eyes alight with curiosity.

“Did something happen?”

It takes one look at Haechan’s face for everyone to realise that something did happen. “Look, it wasn’t anything much. She had a bad dream, and then we kissed,” he confesses, and Chenle’s eyes widen slightly.

“Slow down. How do those two link?”

“She needed comforting. I was there,” Haechan explains, trying his darnedest to not lose his composure. Rehashing the events only makes him feel like he’s going through it again. “I always knew the both of you had something weird going on,” Jaemin mutters, emptying his cup. Renjun elbows him lightly, before focusing on Haechan. “So what are you going to do about it?”

He falls silent at that question, fingers drumming against the smooth marble of the bar counter. He doesn’t know, and that’s the worst part. Haechan doesn’t know if he should say fuck it and confess his feelings, potentially risking your rejection and making whatever the both of you have now awkward, or if he should remain silent.

“You should probably speak to her,” Renjun says, and that’s probably the only good piece of advice Haechan has received all day.

The only question is, where the hell are you?

Doyoung comes into the room then, but there’s no alcohol in his hand. Instead, his eyebrows are set deeply in worry, knuckles clenched white from how hard he’s holding the phone. Haechan has never seen his supervisor so unsettled before, and it makes fear swirl in his chest. He calls out Doyoung’s name, and the man’s head snaps sharply to the left, as if jerked out of a daydream.

The other guys have picked up on it by now, and Doyoung scans his eyes over the room before exhaling shakily. “It’s Y/N,” he forces out. “She hasn’t been home since yesterday, and her neighbour just filed a missing person report.” He shuts his eyes and lets out a groan of worry, and it’s evident that Doyoung’s thinking of the worst-case scenario.

It takes many long moments before Doyoung’s words land, but when they finally do, Haechan thinks he might puke. The alcohol now feels like a terrible idea as it threatens to escape, pushing uncomfortably at his stomach. Nausea is nothing compared to the dread that floods his veins, however, at the thought of you meeting harm, of being in a situation that you can’t get out of.

You’re one of the people he loves the most in the world, and Haechan’s not sure if you know that enough.

He knows that the room explodes into commotion around him, and that Renjun is letting out curse after curse, but it falls to deaf ears. Haechan grabs his jacket and rushes out before anyone can realise, but he’s quick to sink to his feet at the curb, anger and fear bleeding into his sunken shoulders.

There’s nowhere for him to go, because you’re gone.

You figure out that something is terribly, terribly wrong when the room you wake up in is unfamiliar. There’s a sharp pain that burns up your wrists when you attempt to move them, the rope chafing against sore skin. It’s nothing compared to the panic that overtakes you after assessing your surroundings, however.

The air around you is heavy with the stench of garbage, and you wrinkle your nose slightly.

There’s only a small rectangular window that lets light in, the glass cracked and dirty. Below your feet is a rough cement floor, and one door lies to your right.

It’s the only way in and out, and you don’t see any visible way to unlock it.

There’s a heavy thud from the outside right as you turn your head away, before the door swings open slowly.

The first face you see is unfamiliar. The second, however, fills you with an overwhelming nausea.

In front of you stands Woo Eunhyuk, looking entirely out of place in the dingy room with his carefully polished shoes and ivory-white blouse. Pristine, and nowhere near belonging in a place like this. But now you know what lies beneath that clean exterior, and it terrifies and disgusts you in equal measure.

“I should’ve figured it was you,” you say, voice dripping with venom as you glare at the culprit responsible for all of the deaths and your kidnapping. Eunhyuk, however, only smiles smugly as he peers down at you. “To be fair to you, Officer, I am quite talented at covering my tracks.”

He’s proud. Arrogant as he boasts about it, as if being a cold-hearted killer is something to be rewarded for. It fills you with disgust, but you try not to make it too plain on your face. You need to be careful, and buy time, at least until you have a chance of surviving.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?”

You suppose it’s not the wisest question to ask when you’re trying to distract Eunhyuk from that exact conclusion, but you feel a need to know why your body hasn’t ended up in an alley or face-down in the river yet.

“I wasn’t planning to until you started meddling too much. Digging into information you weren’t supposed to find,” he sneers. Eunhyuk’s confirming your suspicions of yesterday, the trail that you had just begun to follow. Considering he was the only other plausible suspect, you had done a deep dive into his records and found years of correspondence with Chaeyeon, some of which bordering into threats.

It took one visit down to the club to make your fears real, when Xiaoting finally divulged the truth.

“Xiaoting, I need you to tell me if Eunhyuk had any sort of conflict with Chaeyeon,” you plead insistently. There’s a stricken look on the red-haired girl’s face, and she’s evidently distraught. You refuse to let up, however, and it feels like a battle of wills takes place in her mind before she makes a decision.

“You can’t tell anyone this. Not until Woo Eunhyuk is behind bars. If not, none of us will be safe,” she whispers. You nod, a silent promise, even as fear climbs up your spine.

“He’s an important investor here. But lately, the rent’s been rising, and Chaeyeon can’t pay back his share. Especially after Mijoo’s death, fewer and fewer customers are coming. He’s been having quarrels with her regularly, and we’re not meant to overhear them, but Chaeyeon was worried that something might happen, so she got me to keep recordings of the conversations. And now look at her.”

“Is there any way you can send me the recordings?”

“Give me a few days. The police have been sorting through Chaeyeon’s stuff after she died, and I’m not sure where the thumb drives are,” Xiaoting promises, and you can tell the girl’s lip is raw from her biting it out of worry.

“If Eunhyuk really is the culprit behind all of this-” you hesitate, but there’s a look of steely determination behind her eyes.

“Promise me you’ll make him pay. Men like him, they think they can do what they want, because they have the money. But I’ve lost Mijoo and Chaeyeon. I don’t want to see another one of my friends left dead.” Her voice has a tinge of cruelty to it, but you understand all too well the pain that it hides.

You’re afraid that you might not be able to fulfil that promise after all, consider how you’re currently at Eunhyuk’s mercy as well.

“But don’t worry. I won’t kill you yet. I quite enjoy watching the people down at the station scrabble to try and find you. Especially your partner. He seems particularly distraught. What was his name again? Haechan?”

There’s a jolt of pain in your heart at the name, a worse feeling than that of your injuries.

Eunhyuk smirks at the obvious change in expression on your face.

“More than just partners, it seems. It’s a pity, you know. I thought you were a pretty one. I’ll decide what to do with you eventually.” You bite back a shudder when he caresses your face gently, watching as he leaves the room. A soft exhale escapes you when the door locks shut resolutely, even if that’s the escape route closed off to you.

But you refuse to give up just yet. Your brain is running a mile a minute as you think of possible ways that you can make it out, but every second that passes only makes you more hopeless. Both your feet and hands are bound to the chair that you’re on, tight enough to cut off circulation if you move too much.

You wonder what’s running through Haechan’s mind now, if the panic is getting to his head. You’re not sure if you’ll get to see him again, and you can’t bear the thought of letting him blame himself for your death.

As much as the man keeps everything maintained under a smooth veneer of confidence, you know your partner much too well, that he’s someone who picks up responsibility even if it isn’t his.

It’s funny how the thought of him brings a small semblance of comfort to you, even in a situation such as this.

And then something comes to you. A possible path out, a semblance of a fighting chance offered by no one but the man himself.

You wiggle your wrist slightly, even though it’s numb, and almost let out a sob of relief when you feel the cool metal against your skin.

Haechan had given you a bracelet for your birthday last year, engraved with your initials, along with many other things. You had made a habit of wearing it daily, but ornamentation wasn’t its only function.

“Haechan, I can take care of myself,” you assure, but the boy shuts you up with a determined look as he places the bracelet on your wrist.

“Better safe than sorry considering the line of work we’re in. If you’re ever in danger, just press this-” He presses down on the button to drive his point- “and I’ll immediately know where to find you. Okay?”

“Fine. But you have to wear one too. You’re not the only one who might need saving,” you retort, and he barks out a laugh, reaching into his hoodie. The smooth metal chain is pinched between his fingers.

“Already got mine. We’re matching now, I suppose.” His words bring a blush to your cheeks.

You’ve never been more grateful for his foresight in your life as you fiddle around, gritting your teeth in pain when the rope slides a little too harshly. There’s sweat dripping down the side of your forehead, but you ignore it. However, your fingers eventually find the bracelet on your other hand, and you exert just enough pressure to feel the mechanism unlock and let out a soft beep.

There’s a harsh exhale that escapes you once you’re done, and you sink back into the chair. Hope is a dangerous thing, you realise, but it’s the only emotion you can cling on to besides despair.

For now, you’ll wait, and place your trust in Haechan.

You hear the footsteps before they reach you.

There’s shouting, audible even through the walls. For a moment, your heart soars with hope.

And then the man who had accompanied Eunhyuk bursts in, and it comes crashing down. He cuts off the ropes binding you, but not before there’s a pair of handcuffs locked securely around your wrist. “Get the fuck up before I put a knife in you,” he rasps harshly, jerking you up by your arm and dragging you behind him. “You wouldn’t dare without your boss,” you retort, and he narrows his eyes at you.

The resulting blow to your stomach knocks the breath out of your windpipe, even as you’ve tensed yourself in preparation for it. “Watch yourself. He doesn’t mind damaged goods. You’re dead sooner or later anyways,” he seethes.

“Glad…to see that you’ve actually got strength behind those arms of yours,” you wheeze out painfully.

He closes his hand in a fist again, and you prepare yourself for the inevitable. However, the footsteps are louder this time, and he thinks better of it, dragging you along with him.

You observe your surroundings as you pass the maze-like hallways into a larger room, one that looks like a garage. The walls are cracked and peeling, and you’re guessing this is an abandoned building of sorts.

Suddenly, the grip on your arms loosens slightly, and you notice Eunhyuk standing in front of you. He walks over, grabbing your chin roughly and leaning down until the both of you are eye level.

“How the fuck did your little friends find you?” He’s seething as he glares at you, but you smile, baring your teeth through the pain and the bruise that’s likely forming on your abdomen. “You should have just killed me when you had the chance.”

He smirks slightly at that. “Be careful what you wish for.”

“Woo Eunhyuk, hands up, or I’ll put this bullet through your skull. Don’t test me.”

The voice that you hear behind you makes you want to sink down in relief. It’s painfully familiar, the honeyed cadence of it something entirely unique to one person.

Haechan’s here.

He’s not the only one, as you turn to see Renjun next to him and a few other faces you don’t recognize. They’re fully attired, pistols in hand. His eyes can’t help but drift to you for a millisecond, hardening imperceptibly when he sees the dried blood on your forehead. Eunhyuk’s men hadn’t exactly been gentle when they ambushed you on the way home, and you only realised the ugly scratch on the side of your face much too late.

“Not so fast, Officer. You might want to be careful.” You’re dragged backwards before you know it, and the click of a loaded pistol against your temple makes your heart stop cold with fear.

Of course he has a gun. Laws don’t matter, not to a man like Eunhyuk, who believes that enough money will cover up any of his sordid deeds.

The impending possibility of death is very real now, and you try to put on a brave face, even as your feet tremble slightly. If not for yourself, at least for Renjun and Haechan.

“Killing me won’t do anything. You’re not getting away with this,” you bite out. You try not to think about the cold metal resting against your skin, and the trigger that is barely inches away from you.

“Let me go free, and I’ll give you back your precious colleague here. Otherwise, I’m blowing her brains out,” he threatens. From the way the rest don’t respond, you’re guessing Haechan’s the highest-ranking officer present, which means everyone’s waiting for his call.

It seems Eunhyuk grows impatient, however, and this time, you’re not prepared, letting out a guttural groan when he slams the gun into your right knee. Something definitely breaks then, and the crack that resounds in the space is almost worse than the pain itself.

Haechan begins to lower his gun.

“No!” you shout out, teeth gritted, and you’re met with a harsh slap to your head, one that leaves your ears ringing and the fresh coppery smell of blood filling your nose. “Shut up, bitch.”

Haechan looks at you, a conflicted expression in his eyes. He’s scared. The fear makes him look so much younger, reminiscent of the boy you met in university. His grip on the gun remains firm, however, and despite the pain flooding through your nerve endings, you let a glimmer of pride fill you at the person that Haechan’s become.

You shake your head insistently at his doubt, even as tears brim at the corner of your eyes. You’re terrified too, but you can’t let Eunhyuk go.

Not for Mijoo, Sunhee, or Chaeyeon.

If it means you’re going to die, then so be it.

There’s nothing that Renjun or Haechan can do, but there just might be an option for you. A risky one, but worth a try.

The last time you took self-defence lessons was before your graduation from the academy, and they were practised in a room with an instructor who did not have the intention to murder you, just to teach.

But the bravery that fills you upon accepting the hypothetical conclusion of death is liberating, and you find your brain rushing through possibilities now that you have nothing to lose.

I’m sorry, Donghyuck.

You close your eyes and suck in a sharp breath, as if it will prepare you for the worst, before you swing your head back and right into Eunhyuk’s nose. There’s a loud groan of pain from him, but you don’t give yourself time to wait before you turn and kick as high as you can.

There’s a loud gunshot, and you freeze for a moment. Perhaps this is it, and you’ve failed. The last few moments, before the bullet lands true and the pain comes.

And then the world restarts.

You’re jolted back when you hear the gun clatter loudly on the floor. By some pure stroke of luck, the bullet has missed you.

Eunhyuk stumbles back in pain, a hand over his bicep, and you quickly dawn upon the realization that it’s not his gun that has fired.

It was Haechan’s.

There’s blood rushing out, scarlet over his fingers, and it plays like a horrible montage, one that will stick in your worst nightmares.

One blink, and Eunhyuk sinks to the floor. A second blink, before there’s officers rushing over to pin him down to the floor

Another slow open-and-close of your eyes, and Haechan is in front of you. Everything is fading into black spots, and you’re quite sure the world is spinning around you. He remains in focus, however, and you try your best to muster a smile, even as the pain reaches a crescendo.

“Y/N? Are you okay? Everything’s fine now. Where else are you hurt?” He’s frantic now, facade slowly breaking and panic leaking into his voice as he inspects you for injuries.

You don’t get to thank Haechan for finding you before you collapse.

“Do you think we can convince him to go back?” Renjun asks, looking at the raven-haired man next to him. “Not likely. At most, he’ll hopefully get some sleep.”

The younger boy runs his hand through his hair tiredly, before turning down the hallway. “The doctor said everything’s alright. I’m worried too, but-”

“He loves her, Renjun. You’d do it for someone else too,” Doyoung chides, and Renjun knows he’s right.

Haechan hasn’t left your bedside for the past seventy-two hours, insisting on staying no matter what the others say. It’s barely enough for him that you thankfully don’t have a concussion, just skin injuries that will heal eventually. The exhaustion and adrenaline have just triggered a natural response by your body, and you’ll wake up when you’re ready.

Seeing you unresponsive on the hospital bed, however, is a sight similar to Haechan’s worst nightmares, almost identical the fears that keep him up at night. If he stays, he can make sure that the heart monitor maintains its stable beeping, and that you’re safe and sound in front of him.

His eyes are sinking closed, but Haechan resolutely keeps them open. The rest have returned back, the flowers from some of your acquaintances resting on the desk and adding some cheer to the dullness of the room. You would hate the hospital environment, Haechan thinks. It’s nothing like your house, cozy and full of little trinkets that you’ve collected over the years.

There’s one small comfort, at least, and it’s the vindication that Haechan gets at seeing Woo Eunhyuk dragged into the back of a police car. Renjun had to pull him back from beating the man up during the aftermath, the firm grip reminding Haechan that assault charges were still very much possible even when committed against a criminal.

But the murderous rage that fills Haechan at the thought of what Eunhyuk’s done to you feels all-consuming, and the only reason he hasn’t acted on it is that he knows you wouldn’t want him to. You’ve always been the calmer one to his irrational nature, tempering him before he gets too far.

Haechan needs you beside him to function, and it’s only been made all that much clearer by your absence.

He smooths his thumb over your palm, wondering if you'll feel it from whichever dreamscape you’re residing in.

“I don’t know if you can hear me, Y/N, but it’s over. We did it. Or you did it, really. We got the recordings from Xiaoting, and managed to dig up some other stuff. You’ll definitely want to see it in person. Which is why you’ve got to wake up. I need my partner here, you know?”

He lets out a soft laugh at his own statement, but it remains unanswered in the silence of the room.

Until your hand jerks slightly, and Haechan doesn’t dare to breathe as his gaze remains fixed on you.

He waits with bated breath, watching as your eyelids flit gently.

It’s too bright.

That’s the first thing you think of when you open your eyes to another unfamiliar room. For a moment, you’re seized painfully with fear again, thinking that you’re back where you started, in that dark, dirty room.

Until the sharp tang of antiseptic floods your nose, and you feel a warm palm over yours. Instead of the chair prodding into your back, there’s a soft bed. And instead of Eunhyuk’s face, there’s Haechan hovering gently over you, eyes alight with concern and relief.

“You’re awake,” he sighs out, and you reflexively try to sit up. There's a dull ache all over your body, but it's nothing you can't handle.

“How long have I been out?” You ask, throat dry from lack of use.

“Close to three days,” Haechan replies instantly, an unreadable look on his face as he adjusts the pillow behind your back carefully. You take a careful sip of the water handed to you, observing him from behind the rim of the cup.

There are dark circles evident under the corners of his eyes, and light stubble on his chin. Despite the obvious lack of rest, he still looks as beautiful as ever, the sight of him sending a jolt of affection to your heart.

A heavy silence rests in the room, symbolic of so many things left unsaid between the both of you. It beseeches you to say something, anything to dispel the tension looming over you and Haechan.

“Hyuck, I-”

“Y/N-”

You giggle slightly at the surprised look on Haechan’s face. “You first, then.”

He swallows nervously, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. But when Haechan lifts his head back up to look at you, there’s a certain quiet determination that rests in his gaze. You hold back a shiver at its insistence, as if he can see right through you like glass.

“When you were gone-” he starts, “I did a lot of thinking.”

“That’s new,” you say, and he rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips despite the sombre atmosphere. “I’m serious, Y/N. Those were the worst two days of my life, and I never want that to happen to you. I couldn’t stop thinking that if I’d been more careful-” Haechan sucks in a breath as if he’s in physical pain, and you instinctively reach out to hold him close to you, to soothe his hurt the only way you know how.

You hold his face between your hands, staring directly into his worried eyes and hoping that your words will get through. “Listen to me, Donghyuck. None of this was your fault.”

The furrow in his brows doesn’t leave, but the dark clouds in his expression clear just barely.

“The bracelet you gave me saved me. I’m never going to be able to thank you enough for that,” you continue, and he leans his cheek into your palm, as if thinking of a response. When he wraps his fingers around your wrist, holding your hand to the curve of his face, the fondness of the motion makes you smile.

“That wasn’t all I wanted to say. When you weren’t around, it was- difficult. Not just because I was worried, but because having you by my side makes everything easier. Better,” he admits, circling his thumb in gentle, soothing circles.

You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you hold your breath, waiting. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, in sync with the wall clock that ticks away second by torturous second. The heady rush of anticipation fills you, and you feel as if you’re teetering on an invisible precipice, about to fall into oblivion.

“I love you. I wanted you to know that. It’s just- I realised I could lose you any time, and that’s worse than being rejected,” he says slowly, watching for your reaction.

There’s no surprise, no great revelation at his words. Instead, they settle into you like stones in a lake, barely making a splash. You’ve always known Haechan’s loved you, even if the idea of going further beyond friendship filled you with anxiety.

You’ve just been too scared to admit the truth.

To admit that you want him to hold you outside of when you have nightmares, that returning to either of your homes together makes warmth flood your chest. You’re someone who’s terrified of your dreams, but having him to wake up to makes the darkness a little easier to endure.

“I lied. When I said I just wanted a distraction.” Your hands are shaking, but you force yourself to continue. “I wanted you. I’m too much of a coward to admit it, but I do,” you breathe out shakily, feeling as the grip he has around your wrist tightens.

The doubt in Haechan’s features clears up at your words, replaced with genuine happiness. It’s a pretty expression on him, one of your favourites, and something that you’ll do anything to keep.

This time, he’s the one to pull you in, hand guiding the upward tilt of your chin. Your lips are chapped and so are his, but you don’t find yourself minding, not when Haechan is so warm and real and solid in front of you. And he’s yours.

When you finally break away from him for air, there’s a hunger in his eyes, but also love. So much of it that it leaves you breathless, weak to his ministrations. He smirks slightly at the dazed expression on your face.

“You know, for two of the best criminal investigators in Korea, we’re quite bad at figuring out each other’s feelings,” he points out.

“Shut up, Donghyuck.”

“As much as that was an interesting case, I hope we never have something like it again.”

“Agreed.” Jaemin lifts up his glass at Doyoung’s statement, downing all the champagne in one go. Renjun looks at him with distaste. “You’re going to get drunk,” he chides.

“I think we all deserve to celebrate,” Jaemin retorts. “To Woo Eunhyuk. May the fucker rot in jail,” the blonde-haired boy proclaims, and even Renjun takes a sip of alcohol at that.

The five of you had left the courtroom four hours ago, fresh from the sight of Woo Eunhyuk being found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment with no parole. Not even his deep pockets could find a lawyer good enough to lighten his sentence. You don’t think you’ll forget the look he flashed you as he was dragged out of the courtroom, one that spelt pure hatred. But you’ve done what you’ve needed to do, and served justice.

“To Y/N and Haechan, my favourite couple, who needed a psychotic serial killer’s help to recognise their feelings.” Chenle’s voice rings out clearly in the room, drawing out a dry chuckle from the man next to you.

Your boyfriend and co-investigator rests his hand gently on your shoulder, before scoffing at the comment. “Careful, Zhong, or you’ll be the next one on my hitlist.”

You click your tongue at him. “Play nice.” Haechan looks at you incredulously, as if asking if you genuinely think he’s the one at fault. You only smile comfortingly at him before turning back to your conversation with Jisung.

You try to bite back a laugh when you hear him scoff lowly. Haechan may be smart and one. of the most mature people you know, but this isn’t one of those moments. “Give me a second, Jisung,” you request, and the younger boy nods, waving you off.

You tiptoe to tap your fingers on Haechan’s shoulder, the leather of his jacket smooth against your fingers. “Donghyuck.”

He doesn’t turn around.

“Are you seriously going to sulk because of this?” you ask.

There’s absolute silence.

“You can’t ignore me forever, you know.” Still nothing.

You sigh in exasperation before an idea comes to you. “Turn around, Hyuck. I have a surprise for you.” To your astonishment, the ploy somehow works.

The last thing Haechan is expecting is for you to grab his jacket collar in your fist and yank him down, before planting your lips firmly on his. It makes his mind blank for a moment, and Haechan reciprocates, before remembering that he’s technically supposed to be angry at you.

When he leans away, however, he’s trying his best to fight the blush that creeps across his cheeks.

“Still angry?” you ask, and he shakes his head. You smile victoriously, but it quickly fades away when he winds an arm around your waist and kisses you again, this time with a dizzying amount of passion.

You’re beginning to get lightheaded when the both of you finally separate, and Haechan has a smug smile on his face. He wipes the smudged lipstick away from the corner of your mouth with his thumb, and you barely register it.

“There. Now I’m happy.”

176 notes · View notes

d1s1ntegrated · 5 months ago

Note

If you don’t mind, can you do one of Mr.Compress?

Thx!

AAA! this might be a bit OOC just cause i dont know compress like that LOL. these r just some of my personal HCS!!

mr. compress/atsuhiro hcs! (some nsfw!)

first things first, atsu is such a GENTLEMAN. holds doors, puts your shoes on for you, pours your glass before his, etc. he is a big fan of chivalry.

he loves to read mystery-thrillers

his favorite drink is ACTUALLY a hot toddy despite what most people would think.

he's very skilled with his hands. he likes to make sure his clothes are very well-fitted so he learned how to sew and tailor really young.

hes a very traditional lover despite being so villainous. even if you can't show face in public, he'll make sure that you two have very romantic dinner dates, rose petals and all, candlelit (at home) picnics, etc.

he loves turtleneck sweaters like deadass he thinks they're so comfy

dad jokes all the way

and really really shitty knock knock jokes

he's so fucking corny sometimes but in a cute way

he ain't the charismatic villain for nothing. he's a class-A FLIRTTTTT

he doesn't take the mask off often. sometimes you like that though.

he is a MISSIONARY man. but in the sluttiest way possible. kissing, licking, nibbling down your neck.

also likes to give you little scares during sex as a joke-

"i'm going to fill you up, my love. you're going to have my babies"

pulls out at the second

when he does take the mask off, my fucking god, he is so beautiful

this man has a 10-step skincare routine, because he knows that wearing his balaclava and mask all the time clogs his pores

he smells so fucking good too, like cashmere and amber and vanilla, but with a smoky top note that just...GOD FUCK MM he smells divine.

he knows he's attractive in a sense, but has severe facial dysmorphia due to the facial coverings. so when you call him handsome, he still blushes like crazy.

his favorite color is burgundy, not yellow like his coat.

more importantly he likes when YOU wear burgundy.

he's definitely taken his hat off and said "milady" to you before but you laughed at him too hard and he stopped doing it

says "for the bit" unironically

and other long ass words like "pulchritudinous".

he's really such a cutie patootie

i think this made me realize some things about compress...anyways! i hope this was good i tried my best ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

#myposts #bnha #mha #my hero academia #mr compress #sako atsuhiro #mr compress smut #compress x reader #mr compress x reader #sako atsuhiro x reader #mha x reader #mr compress hcs #myhcs #myasks

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alvojake · 5 months ago

Text

The Murder House | Epilogue

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕/𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒐𝒏𝒆 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒘𝒐 | 𝒑𝒕. 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆 | 𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆

「synopsis」 : it's been a few weeks since you managed to escape from the murder house, but it's not quite over yet. your brother's trial was right around the corner and everything is brought back to the table. after he's found guilty and sent to prison you are determined to find out some answers, though you aren't sure if you'll like what he has to say....

「word count」 : 6.2k

「genre」 : horror/thriller, gore, angst, psychological thriller, mystery

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, petnames (my love, love...), kissing, court trial, sister complex, familial issues, mentions of abuse (mental & physical), obsessive behavior, threats, mentions of death, gaslighting, lmk if I missed anything!

It had been raining all morning long, the rain softly falling onto the ground, decorating the windows with small spatters. Leaving the air with that fresh rain smell. It was something that you normally loved, but now? Now, all the rain did was remind you of those you have lost. Reminding you of all of the pain and suffering that they had to endure. Reminding you that your brother indeed killed them and that this wasn’t some sick nightmare. Reminding you that this is very real and this is now your reality.

Yet you couldn’t help but stand by the window in your now bare apartment, watching as the rain poured heavily outside. Soaking anything it could touch. The sound of the raindrops hitting your window and roof was almost hypnotizing.

The once steaming mug of coffee in your hand was now room temperature, as it had been long since forgotten. Your eyes fixed on nothing in particular besides the falling water droplets, watching as they crashed onto the surface of the window pane.

You weren’t sure how long you had been staring out the window, maybe five minutes, an hour, a few hours. Your sense of time had vanished, far too lost in your own mind to really know nor care. At least not right now.

“Hey, do you have everything together?” Jay’s sudden voice in the quiet space nearly caused your heart to lurch into your throat, the coffee mug almost slipping from your fingers as you looked over at him with wide eyes. Your heart races underneath your rib cage, almost loud enough to deafen you for a few moments. Noticing your distress, Jay stops in his tracks, an apologetic look painting his features, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine.” You whispered softly, setting down the cold coffee on one of the few tables that didn’t have anything sitting on top of its surface. Your eyes then travel around the empty living room, looking at all of your boxed-up belongings, the furniture holding these boxes. It felt… strange.

You had so many plans for this place, all the game nights you and the boys would do or the parties you would throw for one of their birthdays. All of those plans were left to dogs now. The only thing this place harbors now is guilt and longing.

Guilty that you couldn’t save them. Guilty that you didn’t catch onto your brother or Jake’s strange behavior before it got too late. Guilty that you got to live while they were buried six feet in the ground.

“Hey, I see that look,” Jay’s voice pulled you out of your head once more, causing you to look up at him as he walked over, “stop blaming yourself, y/n; none of this is your fault.” His voice was soft, his hand moving to cup your cheeks softly.

“But-”

He didn’t even let you get another word out as he pressed his lips against yours, silencing any other protest that was to fall from them. His fingertips press against your jaw to angle your head a little bit better.

After a few moments, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, “There is no ‘buts’ y/n. None of this is your fault, and I know the guys would agree with me.”

Curing your lips inward, you nod softly, prompting Jay to move back to grab your abandoned coffee cup. Your eyes glance around the room once again, a pain twisting in your heart.

“This feels so… wrong.” Your voice was low, not really speaking to anyone in particular, more so just voicing your thoughts. Jay dumps the coffee out in the sink before raising it out and setting it to the side.

Walking back into the living room, he finds you looking at a photograph, your eyes glassy as if you were about to cry. Walking over, he wraps his arm around your smaller frame, looking down at the photo as well.

It was one from when all of you went camping a while back, sitting around the fire. You had managed to ask another camper if they would be kind enough to snap a few photos for you, and the nice lady was more than happy to oblige.

Your thumb brushes over your brother, who is sitting on the far side next to Sunoo, a huge smile adorning his features. It left you wondering where things had gone wrong or if it was just an act from the beginning.

“Riki’s trial is in three days,” You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized that you had been holding, “this will be the first time I’ve seen him since the house…” Tears involuntarily filled your eyes, and your heart felt as if it was ripping more and more as thoughts of seeing your baby brother up on that stand.

“I’ll be right there with you every step of the way, my love.” Jay pressed a kiss to the side of your head, his hand rubbing up and down your arm soothingly.

Licking your lips, you inhaled deeply before setting the picture back into the box you had pulled it out of. Closing it once more, you then swallowed thickly, turning towards Jay, who was still looking at you.

“How’s Jungwon?” You asked, resulting in Jay letting out a soft sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

“He’s still not awake, but he’s healing great, so the doctors think he’ll wake up soon,” Jay explained, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

Jungwon had fallen into a coma shortly after getting to the hospital. The doctors had told the two of you that they should be happy that it was just a coma because, after all of the trauma that his body and mind had endured, they were surprised that he even survived the surgery.

You release your hair from the claw clip that was holding it up, running your fingers through the locks before clipping it up once more. Looking over at the window you saw that the rain had stopped, the sun peeking through the clouds.

“When is the moving truck supposed to be here?” You asked, looking back over at Jay, who had just pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“They said within the next few minutes, let’s start moving the smaller stuff down.” He relayed the information that he had been given before pocketing his phone to look up at you.

You nodded your head before grabbing a box and following Jay down to the bottom floor of the apartment complex.

After all of the boxes were piled into the moving truck, you moved away, allowing Jay to pull the shutter door close. You turn back to the building once more, looking up only to catch a glimpse of Heeseung’s apartment window.

Tears pooled along your waterline as you saw the small stickers that were still on the window pane. The very stickers that you had put on there yourself as a joke because you said his living room needed more color.

You had fully expected him to go and scrape them off the moment that you had left the apartment, but they were there the next time you came over and the next, and the next, until you realized that he had no plans of removing them.

Jay thanked the truck drivers and promised to meet them at the new apartment before turning to tell you that everything was ready to go. However, he stopped short when he noticed the tears that slowly rolling down your cheeks.

Walking over with quick steps, he wraps his arms around your body, pulling you into his chest as sobs tore through your throat. Jay bit his tongue as he listened to your cries, knowing that your tears were soaking his shirt. He wanted nothing more than to help make you feel better, but he knew that it wasn’t going to be easy.

It was never going to be easy. You both had witnessed your friends dying in front of you in the most traumatic way possible. That doesn't just go away, not that was something that is bound to haunt your sleepless nights for years to come. No amount of therapy was going to make that better, maybe help manage it, but that doesn't make it easy.

It wouldn't bring your friends back.

“I miss them so much, Jay.” You cried out as your fingers balled the fabric of his shirt into the palm of your hands.

Jay’s arms tighten around your body as he inhales deeply, trying his best to keep his own tears at bay. Then, leaning down to press his lips against the crown of your head, his eyes closed.

“I know. I miss them too.” He whispered against your hair, his eyebrows furrowed as the faces of your lost friends flashed across his mind.

After a few long moments, your tears finally ran dry once more, leaving your eyes stinging and cheeks flushed red. Pulling away from Jay’s body, you reached up to wipe the leftover tears that stuck to your cheeks and eyelashes.

Letting out a shaky breath, you looked up at Jay, who was looking at you with such a soft and pitiful look that it only made the urge to cry again ten times stronger. However, you refused to cry anymore, so swallowing down the tears, you opened your mouth, your bottom lip trembling as you spoke.

“I just wanna know why, Jay.” You spoke slowly, scared that if you spoke any louder that the tears would start running again. “I need to know why so they can rest peacefully. I need to know the reason he did it.”

Jay nodded his head, agreeing with you as he trailed his hands from your arms to your hands, intertwining his fingers with yours. Bringing your hand up to his lips he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your knuckles.

“We’ll get our answers soon; we just have to wait a little bit longer.” He promised, thumb rubbing over your knuckles as he dropped your interlocked hands to his side. It was then that he started to feel the first few drops of rain on his face. Looking up, he saw that the sky had grown cloudy once more, meaning that it was going to start storming again. “Let’s get out of here before it starts pouring.”

He tugged on your hand, pulling you towards his car and opening the door for you. Climbing inside you snap the seatbelt over your body before watching as Jay rushed around the car to jump into the driver's seat.

The rain started to pour as soon as he shut his door, obscuring your view outside of any window around you.

Jay then started the car before pulling out of the parking lot, making your journey to the new apartment one filled with soft music and loving touches to help keep your mind from wandering too far.

This was your new life. You didn’t like it, but you didn’t have much of a choice. However, you were thankful to have Jay by your side through everything.

When the day for the trial came around your nerves were standing on end. However, you didn’t know the impact that seeing your brother walk into the room in cuffs, a dark and cold look adorning his face, would have on you.

Your mind went reeling when he took the witness stand, and his eyes found yours easily. A small, barely noticeable smirk pulled on the corner of his lips. The small action causes the room to erupt in a flurry of hushed whispers.

Jay squeezed your hand as your leg started to bounce slightly. The feeling of eyes on you only added to your anxiety, knowing that they were talking about you. Whether it was good or bad things, you weren’t sure, nor did you really want to know.

“Silence in the courtroom.” The judge took their spot, and the trial had started.

You intertwined your finger in your lap as you tried your best to watch and listen as they questioned Riki.

His expressions shake you to your core. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere else but this courtroom. Looked so unbothered with everything and most of all. He looked like a completely different person.

There was no way that the man sitting on the witness stand right now was the very man that you called your brother.

Biting your lip, you continued to watch as they pulled up the evidence and further questioned Riki, but he barely said a word to anyone. His eyes only flickering to them as they asked a question that he deemed stupid, other than that his eyes were on you. Leaving you sitting uncomfortably in your seat, trying everything in your absolute power to not meet his burning gaze.

Then, there was a question asked that made your breath hitch in your throat, and your hands started to shake tremendously.

“Did you or did you not kill Lee Heeseung, Kim Sunoo, Park Sunghoon, and Sim Jaeyun?” She asked as she walked in front of the jury stand, looking over at Riki, who had torn his gaze away from you to look at her with a blank expression.

Riki’s lawyer sat off to the side quietly, believing that he had talked to Riki well enough for him to keep his mouth shut; however, as soon as the boy opened his mouth, he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

“I did.” He shrugged, expression completely unbothered, “and I’d do it again.”

His words result in a few gasps around the room, as well as hushed whispers once more. Your ears start to ring, drawing out the noise around you as your eyes focus on Riki and Riki alone. He tilts his head in mock surprise when he realizes that everyone is looking at him like he is insane.

Riki then looks back over at you, meeting your gaze with a very sinister gleam in his eyes. Then he lets out a smile that matches that same gleam, causing your heart to lurch into your throat. Suddenly, everything in the room started to feel overwhelming, and it felt as if you were going to pass out if you stayed in the room any longer.

So you leave, jumping out of your seat, resulting in a few turned heads as you rush out of the room. Not sparing a glance at anyone as you tear the door open and run out, your heart beating viciously under your ribcage, and heat rushes up your neck, painting your face a deep shade of red.

Jay watches as you rush out of the room, contemplating on going after you. However, he didn’t want to miss Riki’s sentencing for you either. The detective that was sitting in front of you and Jay noticed Jay’s hesitation and turned to look at him.

“Go after her. I’ll come and let the two of you know the sentencing afterward.” He reassured the younger boy, who just looked at him with thankful eyes before standing to his feet.

He moved towards the courtroom doors, but he caught Riki’s gaze moments before reaching for the door handle. The look was one of pure, unfiltered hatred as he glared at the silver-haired male.

A chill ran down Jay’s spine as he turned away and walked out of the room to go and find you. He tried his best to ignore that glare that painted Riki’s features, one that told Jay that if he was given the chance, he would finish what he had started in the house months ago. That gaze, though, was now burned into his brain.

It felt like an eternity before the courtroom doors opened, and the detective walked out, looking around the hallway before seeing you and Jay sitting on a bench not too far away. Jay looks up to meet the detective's eyes, his hand still resting on the small of your back. Your head stayed down, face buried in the palm of your hands.

The detective walks over to the two of you, stopping just a few feet away, not wanting to invade any kind of personal space. His hands were stuffed in his pockets as he contemplated how to relay the information he had just gained from the previous room.

He then cleared his throat, causing you to glance up at him with tear streaks running down your flushed cheeks. It was a look that he had seen multiple times before in his life, but he couldn’t help but feel bad for you.

“Your brother pleaded guilty,” He relayed that information, and an audible gasp fell from your lips, fresh tears building in your eyes, “he was sentenced to life with no chance of parole or bail.”

A choked sob broke through your lips, your fingers tightening on Jay’s sweater sleeve as you took in the information that was just given to you. You knew this was coming. Knew that the chances of him getting life in prison were high, but you couldn’t help but still feel guilty.

Maybe if you had paid just a little bit more attention to him and his behaviors then maybe all of this could have been avoided. Maybe if you were able to catch on to the way he and Jake had been acting, then maybe you could have stopped it before it went too far.

You hadn’t even realized that you were picking at the skin around your nails until Jay reached over and grabbed your hand, stopping the assault on your fingers. Looking over at him with teary eyes, he just offered a small, sad smile before looking back at the detective.

Inhaling deeply, you also moved your gaze to look at the detective as well, “When will I be able to see him?”

“They are probably going to have him held until all of the paperwork is done,” He started, and you listened; your bottom lips got trapped between your teeth, “once the paperwork is done, they’ll transfer him to the prison facility, and you should be able to see him shortly after that.”

Nodding softly, you wiped the tears off of your face and sniffed, “Thank you, Detective Choi.”

“No problem, kid,” He then pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen before looking back at the two of you once more, “I have to go, but take care of yourselves.” Then, without another word, he walked away, leaving both you and Jay to sit in silence.

Jay squeezed your hand, which was still connected to his, gaining your attention once more. " Did you want to go and visit Jungwon before visiting hours ended?”

Your eyes flickered over to the digital clock that hung on the wall across the hall, seeing that you only had a few hours before they ended. It had been a few weeks since you’d seen the boy. Maybe you were too scared to see his almost lifeless form. Or maybe you were just scared that it would be the last time that you saw him.

“He’s okay, y/n; you don’t have to worry so much.” Jay’s voice was soothing, pulling you out of your head once again.

Swallowing thickly, you nodded your head, wiping more of the tears from your face. There would be a time when you would have to go and see him, and what better time than now?

“Yeah, let’s go see him.” Your voice was shaky and unsure, but you stood to your feet, pulling Jay up with you regardless. Then, the two of you made your way out of the courthouse and back to Jay’s car.

Walking into the hospital to check in you both were left feeling a little uneasy when the nurse smiled a little too brightly when you told her who you were visiting. She had told the two of you that you could just head on up to Jungwon’s room.

“I wonder what all of that was about…” You spoke out loud as you walked next to Jay, your pinky linked to his. Jay hummed softly, telling you that he wasn’t too sure either, before stopping in front of Jungwon’s hospital room door.

Jay tried his best to keep the smile that was threatening to spread on his lips as he released your hand to place it on your back, urging you to open the door. Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over at him, confused by his actions.

“Why are you acting so weird?” You squinted at him, but your hand wrapped around the door knob nonetheless.

Pushing the door open, you walked into the room, hesitantly scared to see Jungwon lying on that bed, unresponsive. However, walking into the room you were met with a sight that you never prepared yourself for.

Your eyes blew wide open when they landed on Jungwon. There he was, sitting up in the bed, a pudding cup in one hand while a white plastic spoon hung from his lips. The sound of the door opening caught his attention, causing him to look over at you, and as soon as his eyes met yours, a wide smile broke out on his face, his dimples on show.

“Oh, my god.” Tears pooled in your eyes once again, your head swiveling around to look at Jay, who just gave you a smile similar to Jungwon’s. Turning back to Jungwon, your feet move before your mind can register it.

Walking over, you reach out to the boy, who sets his pudding cup down to encase your body in a hug as you practically fall into his arms. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you held his body close to yours, thanking anything and everything that he was okay and that he was awake. Pulling away, you grabbed his face in your hands, squeezing his cheeks slightly as you checked him over for injuries despite being in a coma in the hospital for the last month.

“When?” Your voice cracked as you released his face, looking over your shoulder at Jay, who had just walked into the room. He walked over to join you and Jungwon, sitting in the chair that was next to the bed, his hand resting on your thigh.

“This morning.” Jay chuckled as you looked at him with wide eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He wanted it to be a surprise for after the trial.” Jungwon cut in, causing your head to snap over in his direction.

You were happy, beyond happy, that he was okay, but you couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that they had kept it from you until now. However, you weren’t going to let it weigh down on you for long. You wanted to spend time with your friend now that you knew for sure that he was okay.

“How much longer are they going to keep you here?” You asked as you made yourself comfortable on the end of Jungwon’s bed, giving him enough space to be comfortable. Fingers playing with the fabric of the blanket that was folded by his feet.

“They said they wanted to keep me for a few more days for observation, seeing that the knife wound is pretty much healed,” Jungwon explained as he grabbed his pudding cup once more, scooping a good amount on his spoon before sticking it in his mouth. “Also, how did the trial go?”

You inhaled sharply at the question, reliving the events and emotions all over again, but you knew that he deserved to know everything just as much as you or Jay. So you shift in your spot a bit before explaining everything that had happened in the courtroom.

Jungwon then sat there in silence for a few moments, taking in all of the information as he ate the pudding slowly. He then looked back at you, tilting his head slightly and pulling the spoon from his mouth.

“Are you going to go see him?” He asked, almost unsure if he wanted to know the answer or not.

Your tongue jutted out to wet your lips before nodding slightly, “Yeah, I… we need the answers.” You explained, causing Jungwon to nod. He knew you were right, that you all had questions that you wanted, no needed answers to.

“Just be careful; he could try playing his mind games again.” He looked at you with a worried gaze, worried that your brother could sway you into believing that what he did was right. You just gave him a small smile and patted his leg that was closest to you, reassuring him that you would be. He swallowed down the last of the pudding before setting the empty cup to the side and letting his hands fall into his lap, “well, now you guys have to catch me up on your lives.”

And that’s how the three of you started to talk about your lives after getting out of that haunting house.

After about two and a half weeks, they finally gave you the clearance to see your brother at the prison he had been transferred to. So now you and Jay sat in his car in the parking lot as you tried to gather all of your bearings to face your brother once more. Jay had his hand on your thigh right above your knee, his thumb rubbing your skin soothingly.

“Don’t stress too much, love; he won’t be able to do anything to you.” Jay’s voice was soft, and you nodded slowly, “Plus, I’ll be right outside, waiting for you. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you, Jay.” You whispered before looking down at the time, seeing that it was almost time to go. So, taking a deep breath, you gather yourself before getting out of the vehicle with Jay and making your way toward the prison doors.

After getting through security, you found yourself sitting in front of the glass divider, waiting for them to bring your brother in. Your leg was bouncing against the palm of your hand, the clapping sound being the only thing heard besides the faint ticking of the clock on the wall behind you.

The loud buzzer nearly made you fall out of your seat, your head snapping up to watch as the door opened. Your ears rang as Riki walked through the doors, his hands cuffed in front of him. His eyes found yours almost far too easy as he took his seat in front of you.

The officer had said a few words, but they weren’t heard over the ringing in your ears. He then walked back out the door he had come in from, leaving both you and Riki to sit in silence.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m surprised you even came.” His voice held a teasing tone, almost as if he were mocking you, “figured you’d be too scared to see me.” Your eyes snapped up to meet his, your heart dropping as soon as you did.

It was then that you realized that the man sitting in front of you was no longer your brother but rather just someone who had done a horrible thing. A thing that you wanted to get answers to.

“Why did you do it, Riki?” Your voice shook as you shifted in your seat, standing a little bit straighter, deciding that showing any kind of fear would only hinder your ability to get those answers you were seeking.

Riki’s head tilted slightly, a smirk tugging on his lips, “Why wouldn't I do it?”

Irritation started to bubble in your chest, the fear and anxiety you once felt now vanishing.

“Now is not the time to play coy, Riki. Why did you do it?” Your voice came out more stable, causing the male to straighten his head, his eyes narrowed into slits realizing that he no longer had you scared.

“You wanna know why I did it?” His voice turned dark, sending a chill down your spine, “Well, sis… you better listen closely.” There was an underlying tone in his voice that left you feeling uneasy, but you were going to stand strong. “Why don’t we start from the beginning, huh? Remember that promise you made me whenever we finally got out of Mom and Dad’s house?”

You did. You remembered that promise like it was the very day you had made it. That day was rainy. Both of you were soaked head to toe as you sat inside your car in an empty parking lot miles away from your parents' house. The heat was blasting through the vents in the hope of warming you and drying your drenched clothes. It was silent between you, neither of you knowing what to say.

“Are we really safe?” Riki asked, causing you to look over at him, your eyes softening as you took in the fear that was on his face.

You reached over the center console taking his hand into yours, encasing his fingers with your own. A small smile on your lips as you managed to lull him into looking over at you.

“I promise you, bub, that we are safe; we don’t have to worry about them anymore.” You started, your heart racing under your ribcage. “It’s me and you now. It’ll always be me and you.”

At that time, you hadn’t expected him to take that promise so seriously; you had made that promise knowing that the two of you would meet new people and eventually move on with your lives. Had he really thought that the two of you would be together until the end?

You looked up at him, your eyebrows furrowed, showcasing your inner turmoil.

“You broke that promise, y/n.”

“I did no-”

“You did,” He growled harshly, causing you to jump in your seat, “you were going to leave me for one of those douchebags. You were going to abandon me for what? Some stupid fleeting love that’s not gonna last?”

Your eyes went wide as he started to get aggressive, your hands shaking.

“Riki, I wasn’t going to abandon you.” You tried your best to keep your voice steady, “We’re getting older; we’re going to have our own lives. You couldn’t rely on me forever.”

Riki scoffs, anger flashing in his eyes, “So you were abandoning me?” You opened your mouth to protest, but he was quick to cut you off once more, “That’s why I needed to get rid of them all; only then would you realize that I was the only one you needed. The only one worthy enough to spend the rest of our lives together.” Hearing those words fall from his lips that you realize that something was immensely wrong, “I was almost there too, but then you had to go and try to be the hero.” He hissed, eyes boring into you with such a heated gaze that left your skin crawling.

“Riki-”

“No, because I went through all of that trouble just for everything to get fucked up.” His fingers curled into a fist before suddenly, his whole demeanor relaxed. The glare falling away leaving behind a smile that made your stomach turn, bile crept up your throat as the next few words fell from his lips. “But I’ll get to try again in the future, and this time…” He leaned forward until his face was merely inches away from the glass, “I won’t fail.”

You felt extremely lightheaded as you realized the weight of his words. The worst part of it all is you knew he wasn’t just playing a mind game; you knew that he would actually follow through with his word. Inhaling deeply, you reminded yourself that he was going to be locked away for a long, long time, and you would be just fine.

“You’re not getting out any time soon, Riki; what you did was wrong, and I will never forgive you for it.” You spoke lowly, scared that your voice would crack if you talked any higher.

Riki laughed sarcastically, leaning back in his seat once more, “I’ve done a lot of things; wiggling my way out of here won’t be much different.” His voice was cold, and he sounded so sure of himself that you had almost believed it, save for the fact that he had just outed himself.

“Times up Nishimura!” The officer exclaimed as he opened the door, the buzzer making you jump slightly.

Riki fought against his hold as he pulled him from the chair. " Let go of me!” he shouted, yanking his arm out of their hold. His eyes found yours once more. " Don’t worry, sis. I’ll be back for you, and then we can truly be happy together, just like you promised.”

Then, with that, they pulled him out of the room, and you were left in silence, only your thoughts keeping you company. You didn’t want to think about his words too much, knowing that he had a track record for playing mind games.

Another buzzer was heard, pulling you out of your own mind. An officer stood in the doorway not too far from you.

“It’s time to go, miss.” He spoke respectfully as he waited for you to gather your baring before standing on shaky legs.

You thanked him before walking out of the room and making your way towards the entrance, where you found Jay sitting, playing some game on his phone while he waited. Hearing the sound of your footsteps, he looked up, offering you a small smile, but it quickly vanished as he took in the troubled look on your face.

“Hey, is everything okay?” He asked, standing to his feet and reaching out to grab your arm.

Looking up at him, you swallowed thickly and ran your fingers through your hair. " Um, can we just go? I’ll explain everything when we get home.”

Confused, he just nodded before leading the both of you out of the facility and back to his car. He had tried to ask you anything to get you to talk, even if it was about something dumb, but you didn’t utter a single word on the way home, your mind far too occupied.

You couldn’t help but wonder how true your brother's words were. Would he really be able to get out of there and go after you and your friends once more? Or was it just some hoax to get you all worked up and scared? It was a question that only time could tell, even if you truly hoped that it was all just words and that he was all bark and no bite. However, you couldn’t shake the bad feeling that filled your gut.

Months later, everything seemed to be going better. You and Jay were happy, and Jungwon was fully recovered and could get back to his daily life. The only difference was that the three of you made it a weekly thing to visit your friends' graves.

So that’s where the three of you were now, stepping out of Jay’s car to take in the breezy spring winds. You close your eyes and just let it wash over you, leaving a sense of serenity to fill your mind.

“Don’t forget the flowers in the back, Won.” Jay reminded the younger boy as he exited the vehicle, pocketing the keys before walking over to you just as you opened your eyes.

“Got 'em.” Jungwon held the small bouquet of flowers in his arms until you walked over and took a few from him, and he thanked you.

“Come on, it’s supposed to rain here soon.” You told the two boys before turning and making your way towards your friends’ graves.

The three of you chatted peacefully on the way there. However, noticing someone standing at the graves caused you to stop in your tracks. They were wearing all black, and their hood was pulled over their heads, so you couldn’t see any other features.

“Do you know who that is?” You asked Jay as all three of you watched the person walk away, their hands stuffed in their jacket pockets.

“Maybe a family member?” Jungwon asked, although his expression showed that he didn’t fully believe his words himself.

Trying to shake it off, you just moved towards the graves once more, the two boys following behind you. You spent a few good minutes making sure that all of the headstones were clean and pretty as you sat the flowers down. However, during all of this, and even as the three of you were leaving, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. You had even thought you saw that same person out of the corner of your eyes, but when you went to look, you didn’t see anyone there.

‘I’m just paranoid, there’s no one here.’

And that’s what you continued to tell yourself despite the churning gut feeling that something just wasn’t right. You knew that your brother was locked away, and you could finally live your life in peace once more.

You were safe.

Right?

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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kheta · 20 days ago

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2 for 1 Genres

Thriller-Mystery: Young Justice is missing. They've been missing for two months and no one noticed. The League is devastated and panicked as multiple members try and look for their proteges and family members. The BatFam are enraged and feel stupid to have not noticed Tim was missing sooner, angry that they didn't check in sooner. The Arrows are walking a tightrope, not knowing how much they can do to help without compromising Cissie's strong boundaries, but also unwilling to step-back from rescuing one of their own, even if she's been distant for years at this stage. The Flashes are resigned to Bart disappearing, though the rest of yj being missing is definitely heightening their anxiety. Superman is quietly guilty for not noticing Kon's absence as abnormal, while Jon is giving his dad the silent treatment because he knew something was up and is mad that Clark didn't believe him and mad that he didn't look into it anyway. Wonder Woman is upset that she hadn't realised Cassie had vanished, but has quiet faith that the team will manage to survive until the League manages to find them. It's a desperate push against the clock as the mentors juggle their everyday disasters with their efforts to look for the team, especially because all of these mentors are also maybe 100% going to butt heads as they play the blame game, struggling to reconcile their guilt when the mission is a lot more personal, with no clear cut villain to blame. Comedic-Hi-jinks: Meanwhile, the YJ crew have all been kidnapped. Kidnapped by a bored and lonely Bart Allen, who was sick of all the failed reunion plans and jealous of the fact that literally everyone got to spend time with each other except him. (no, going to see them one on one doesn't count guys! their a team, a family, they deserve more than just occasional face-times and drop-ins) Honestly the little pocket dimension they ended up in was surprisingly neat and child-friendly, so Anita's not too mad at being kidnapped. There's even some small fry's she gets to deal with and a hand picked group of perfectly available baby-sitters who she trusts with her life, all on hand, unable to say no when she leaves her not-parents in their care. Cissie's a little worried because she definitely has some work things to look after, but this mini vacays actually been a good time to unwind, even if she was a bit mad that Bart gave her no time to prep and Tim gave her absolutely no heads up. And despite his arguments, she knows Tim had expected this to happen. Bart was way too put together after getting Tim, no bruises, no scolding and no glitter bombs in sight. Kon, Tim and Cassie meanwhile are just vibing, brains off as they meander through this little pocket dimension. Nothing was gonna stop Bart from doing this and at least he's relented to a three day adventure instead of the week long one he had initially planned. Greta is a little worried, because things are going surprisingly well on this little excursion and that's way too weird, but she loves being with her friends again, so she's really hoping the worry is unwarranted. Bart feels like he's forgotten something, but for the life of him he can't think of what he may have forgotten. He has his friends, he found the perfect, most harmless pocket dimension and he even remembered to set the YJ code to show they had gone out on a mission. (Bart definitely forgot to do the time math. He was going to do it, honest! He just got a bit too excited. And maybe a bit too annoyed at Cissie hogging Greta and Cassie's time. But only very slightly annoyed.)

#batfam #tim drake #young justice #young just us #cassie sandsmark #kon el #bart allen #anita fite #greta hayes #cissie king jones

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stxrysnow · 5 months ago

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— yearns though my heart, i watch you from afar.

synopsis. being the hardworking individual you were, earning a job at the local bookstore had you looking forward to it like it was the sunshine one craved on a misty winter morning.

or maybe it was the fact that you were addicted to books.

or maybe the fact that this one guy with weird bangs comes for weekly visits.

genres/themes. suguru geto x reader, fluff, pure fluff, non-sorcerer!au, bookstore worker!reader, heavy, heavy pining (both from reader and suguru), cameo of satoru, shoko, kento and haibara!, (tw!) suguru smokes, reader has had a problematic past (not specified), reader is an implied thriller fan.

jiah’s notes. *incoherent mumbling through tears* why can’t my brain just shut down for a moment,

word count. 5.2k ( ~ 5.3 lol, help this wasn’t supposed to be this long)

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° even if my heart stops beating

he’s here again.

a part of you mentally cursed yourself for not paying attention to the booklists you were supposed to be reviewing because obviously you were too busy waiting for him to arrive, while another part celebrated that at least he had arrived.

strange guy, he was— never once in your life had you thought that you’d think of someone else other than yourself and your never-ending books, but here you were— life proving you wrong once again.

although, you weren’t exactly complaining, were you?

slender hands of his skimmed over the book covers, concentrated dark eyes like an abyss of mystery— the faint sunlight casting them in such an ethereal glow that made them seem like rich pools of honey. his silky black hair was kept loose down his shoulders today, you noticed— save for the messy bun he had made with the upper half.

like hell were you complaining.

nimble fingers of yours fidgeted with the now crumpled sheet— and you let out a hiss, only just realising that you had crushed the poor paper that contained your to-do list for the day.

sorry, to-do list.

but hey, it’s not like destroying your to-do list had rendered you completely jobless— now you could watch the one whom you secretly admired in peace.

reason? your list got so crumpled up that you couldn’t even read it, duh.

and who was the one who crumpled it?

. . .

ah, maybe let’s not think about the list anymore.

where were you again? ah, yes, back to being your admiring self. the thriller book you’d always had since a high schooler by your side— you gave it a little tap of confirmation, speaking to it in a language only you and the book seemed to understand.

those eyes of yours fixed upon the man— could he even be called a man, at this point?— he was simply so . . . other-worldly that you often found yourself mentioning him to your co-workers, just to make sure that he was real and not just a figment of your imagination.

you still remembered the looks on their faces— small frowns embedded on their expression as they eyed you suspiciously, until your manager snapped at you all to start working already (“college kids these days,” he had muttered under his breath) but— did you mind?

not one bit, if he was involved.

his slow, sauntering footsteps made the wooden floor hum a soft clack— and you strangely found yourself listening to it, as if immersed in a melody only he was singing to you— a melody which only you could hear, and no one else.

your gaze lingered on the way his dark strands looked, especially those curiously styled bangs of his— wondering how it could look so soft and silky as the gentle sunlight painted it a shimmering brown— how, somehow, you had never wanted anything in this whole damn world other than running your fingers through those alluring locks. humming to yourself, you took occasional sips from the water bottle you had brought along— only to notice that it had long got over, and yet, here you were, still holding it to your lips like a complete idiot— eyes peering over the lid at a certain someone.

but, somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

not one bit.

didn’t care if you looked like some lovesick fool right now— hey, at least he was the cause.

and you’d gladly be any fool in this whole damn universe if it comes to him.

you tilted your head, catching a glimpse of how his hand went back to scratch the back of his neck— a thoughtful expression on his face, and oh how your heart did a little flip when you saw that little, focused frown of his— making you almost drop the bottle, but you weren’t a complete idiot.

or were you?

“. . hey,” a small, annoyed voice says, snapping you out of your trance as you jerk your head downwards, to find a boy who looked no older than seven stare up at you with a scowl on his little face. “i’ve been callin’ you for five times, y’know.”

okay, maybe you were an idiot.

“oh,” you blinked, before letting out a sheepish chuckle, “sorry, lil’ guy. what can i help you with?”

“sorry yourself, miss girl who stares creepily at guys,” he said, making your eyes widen in an almost comically surprised way— okay, you were seriously doubting whether this kid was seven or not— “i wan’ this.”

the boy’s tiny hand placed a magazine on the table, the smooth cover sliding across the wooden surface.

you raised a brow, eyes narrowing whilst you read the oh so interesting title— ‘Girls’ You Can’t Get, So You Can Stare At Them Instead’— and regretting your life decisions as you flipped just one page— only to be met with some very . . not-so-family-friendly pictures of women.

swallowing a lump in your throat, your gaze flickered back to the menace— boy— in question; a small, flickering smile on your face.

“that’d be, uh,” you hastily flipped over to the back cover of the magazine, checking the price, “two hundred and ninety eight yen.”

handing him the receipt and the change after he had paid, you noticed how the kid immediately held onto it in an overly possessive grip, eyeing you warily, as if you were gonna snatch it out of his grip.

as he turned to walk out, you couldn’t help but blurt out the question you’d been pondering over since the past few minutes.

“hey— kid,” your voice said awkwardly, and he stopped in his tracks, raising a brow whilst looking at you over his shoulder, “how . . old are you?”

he let out a small ‘tsk’, rolling his eyes— a scowl settling over his features again.

“five.”

you could only stare as he stepped out of the store, mouth slightly parted in disbelief and surprise— eyes wide. five? and here you were, thinking that lil’ shit was seven.

you made sure to set a reminder to talk to your manager about stacking those— magazines— strictly in the adult section.

squinting your eyes at the place from where the kid must’ve taken that book, an audible gasp escaped you when your gaze landed on the sign-post just beside the shelves.

kid’s section.

and whilst you sat there on your chair, rethinking every single life decision you’ve ever made, a certain someone chuckled to themselves— the sound small and barely audible— filling the air for only a few seconds, yet lingering on for eternity.

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ even if the world stops shaking

suguru had always been a patient, patient man.

some would say that was nature all along— the polite child he’d been, smooth voice so full of charm that he everyone was drawn to him and his beautiful, beautiful self— like a moth finding a source of light for the first time, a found serendipity that made him treasured by everyone he knew.

his head tilted upwards to gaze at the pink-tinged sky— dark pupils lingering on a moment too long at a peculiar shaped cloud as his white-haired friend’s voice filled the air, going on and on like a tuneless hum— hey, that looked a bit like satoru’s glasses, didn’t it?

“have any left?” suguru’s smooth voice muttered— and although satoru’s loud rambles drowned his words— a cigarette was placed into his hands by shoko, who gave him a knowing look.

good ol’ shoko.

“heyy, are you guys even listenin’ to me?” satoru’s whine earned him a light shove on the shoulder from suguru, who couldn’t help but let out an amused chuckle.

“took you long enough to figure out that we weren’t,” shoko’s voice took a sarcastic turn whilst she twirled the cigarette between her fingers idly, bored eyes staring at the male.

“i was listening, senpai!” eyes lighting up with sparkles, haibara gazed at his upperclassmen in childlike awe; looking very much like an excited puppy— but then again, when was he not cheerful and excited?— suguru couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him yet again.

good ol’ haibara, suguru thought.

“uh huh? what was i saying then?” satoru grumbled, a pout on his boyishly hansome face whilst he crossed his arms— still a bit put off by the fact that his friends weren’t really paying attention to him.

“you were saying somethin’ about— the . . . the sea cucumber you found the other day when you went at the beach?” haibara stammered, an almost pitiful frown embedded on his face as he tried to remember what exactly satoru had been talking about— which of course earned a laugh from shoko and suguru.

“sea shells,” said a quiet voice, holding a tinge of irritability to it— and all of their heads jerked towards the direction of kento— who they thought hadn’t even acknowledged their very existence whilst being immersed in his book, let alone listen to satoru’s little chatters— before erupting into fits of laughter.

“oh, man,” satoru held onto his aching stomach, pretty blue orbs already reduced to tears— even he, though the one speaking, knew that kento usually paid as much attention to him as a person generally would to a roadside rock— but then again, they wouldn’t have been friends for so long if it had been as simple as that.

“kento, you really were listenin’, huh?” haibara slapped his hand on his shoulder, positively beaming— and oh how kento’s ears burned red in embarrassment.

“shut up,” he mumbled— shrugging the male’s hand off his shoulder as he busied himself with his book again, almost painfully obvious in the way he was avoiding either of their gazes.

good ol’ kento, suguru thought.

“mhmm, you’re right, my dearest kenny,” satoru cooed, slinging an arm around the younger male’s shoulder, positively relishing in the way he earned himself an irritated sigh from oh so grumpy kento— a bark of laughter escaping him as he ruffled his hair.

the sound was so youthful— filling the air like a harmonious tune, rough though it came off as— yet producing such a soothing effect because of the sheer joy it carried, a joy which was pure, a joy which was real.

good ol’ satoru, suguru thought.

“ooh, you might wanna be careful with the hair,” shoko snickered, puffing out a cloud of smoke— her laugh mirroring satoru’s.

“i’m making it look a bit more presentable, mind you,” satoru retorted, sarcasm oozing from his words as yet another laugh escaped him— suguru shook his head, heaving a light-hearted sigh; oh god, not one day passed without someone commenting on poor kento’s hairstyle— not that he was entirely sorry for him, as he took part in it quite as much.

and as his eyes watched kento furiously struggling to get out of satoru’s vice-like arm lock, a strange feeling emerged in his heart— a feeling he couldn’t quite place his finger upon.

longing.

for what, though? suguru couldn’t help but ponder, the cigarette resting lazily between his lips— completely unaware of the fact that it was still unlit— his friends were right here.

sure, they were. but something wasn’t there as well. something that made his head spin in such a dizzyingly sweet manner that he wanted it to never, ever stop.

something.

and where was this something?

he paused. slender fingers reaching up to slowly remove the cigarette from his lips— exhaling air, expecting to see a puff of smoke— dark eyes widening the moment he saw nothing.

the cigarette was still unlit.

still unlit.

and suddenly, he knew where it was. this something.

standing up gingerly, suguru brushed some dirt off his jeans, slinging his bag over his shoulder— heads turning to look at him, his friends’ curious eyes peering into his own.

suguru was a patient, patient man. a man who’d learnt to share his comforts— a man who’d been accustomed to comforting people just by his mere presence—

but strangely enough— for once in his life— he didn’t want to share.

this something of his.

“where’re you goin’, suguru?” satoru asked, his grip on kento’s face loosening— and kento taking the chance to immediately distance himself from satoru by at least five feet— “oh, don’t tell me.” —those mystifying, cerulean eyes of eyes threatened to roll to the back of his head— “you’re going to that crappy bookstore again.”

raising a brow, it was now suguru’s turn to roll his eyes.

“indeed, i am going to that crappy bookstore, satoru,” he tittered, a small, amused smirk on his face, “i have to buy this book i looked up yesterday—”

“since when were you the one to read so many books?” shoko narrowed her eyes— and, for the first time in his life, suguru didn’t want to be questioned— didn’t want to be the found serendipity, just— a quiet getaway.

to his something.

“senpai’s very smart, though!” haibara beamed, lips spreading into a wide grin. “i once saw him—”

“shut up for a while, haibara,” shoko retorted— which earned a small ‘sorry, senpai’ from the younger male— “and you, suguru. what’s up with you these days, huh? you keep disappearing on weekends. and— and you have this strange sorta look— like you wanna be somewhere. what’s goin’ on?”

suguru almost wanted to let out a gentle laugh at how those brown eyes of shoko were filled with suspicion— and underneath all that façade, concern; drowning in honey pools full of questions.

and for once, he didn’t want to answer those questions.

for once, he just wanted to go away.

to his something.

“no reason,” suguru said, his back now facing them, hand raised in a goodbye— which haibara eagerly returned with an overly enthusiastic wave of his, even though the ravenette couldn’t see him— “i’ll be back in a few.”

he felt their gazes on him. pointing, but not piercing.

and oh how he was thankful for that.

hands in his pockets, suguru’s gaze lingered on the cracks between the footwalk, noticing how the little flowers managed to bloom, though being surrounded by a world of concrete. but hey, the sun was to keep them company, wasn’t it?

slender fingers of his fidgeted with the unlit cigarette in his pocket— as he reminded himself back again where he was going— feet abruptly stopping as he realised that he was here already.

suguru’s hands pushed open the door, as he passed by the ‘smoking is strictly prohibited’ sign pasted on the glass— the gentle tinkle of the bells announcing his presence as he walked his way towards the non-fiction section. his usual stop.

and from the corner of his eye, he gazed at your sleeping figure at the desk— a small chuckle escaping him— a glint of pure adoration in his eyes.

why?

of course, he knew. but he daren’t say that, even to himself.

he was back.

to his something.

you.

your eyes shut and your hair slightly obscuring your face, suguru relished in the peaceful expression on your face. quiet, like a deer— resting in a open foliage— in a small patch of tender grass it found, upon which sunlight hit so softly that the poor animal couldn’t help it. innocent, like it didn’t know that it could be get pounced upon by the tiger— just like you slept on your job, blissfully unaware that the tiger— your manager— could come into the shop anytime.

good ol’ you, suguru thought.

∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° pretty boy, you did this to me, boy

fixing your gaze upon the ceiling, a sigh escaped you— almost inaudible, as if you were afraid of disturbing an unknown presence.

yet, you knew you were alone.

and yet, strangely enough— it didn’t bother you, like it usually did. at least to most people.

it wasn’t as if your thoughts were all sunshine and daisies either, hell no— far from that, in fact. but hey, at least you weren’t drowning in your thoughts like you did before.

you had grown, hadn’t you?

maybe that little, nagging voice said otherwise— 'grown? you've deteriorated even more from before, you idiot,' it snickered, the little scoff that left it resonating through your entire soul, like a haunting siren’s call— yet another voice— a quiet but steady one— seemed to soothe your mind.

‘she’s healing. don’t you forget that,’ it said— its presence so welcoming that you might as well regard it as the sailor who had saved you from the grasp of that malevolent little siren. it’s voice didn’t resonate, didn’t linger on in your thoughts, as that one had— yet it had a more lasting effect.

you were healing.

you’ve grown.

one of your hands, which had been resting at the back of your head, reached out to stretch in front of your eyes— which had long grown accustomed to the dim moonlight peeking through the window of your room— as if you were trying to shield yourself from some sort of light. you simply stared at it; gaze fixated on your spread out fingers, eyes flickering towards the veins running along your hand now and then, like some forbidden sort of creeper living inside your body.

except that this creeper was the reason you were living.

crap, you’ve missing out on your biology lectures a bit too much haven’t you?

and as your gaze lingered onto your skin you couldn’t help but ponder— did you really know the back of your hand well enough to live upto the expectations of people actually deciding to pose a proverb based on it— did you know the back of your hand like the back of your hand?

it was a silly thought, but then again, no one— except you— was here, in the confines of your room.

no one to chide you, except you.

eh, you might as well do it— you’ve called yourself much worse things than ‘silly’ in the past, anyway.

flipping over your position to rest on your stomach instead, you laid your hands onto your pillow; stray strands of your tousled hair falling over your eyes— but you didn’t tuck them behind your ear, not now— you had a very important examination to do.

at least, it was important to you, anyway.

your fingers stretched out on the soft fabric of your pillow— and oh how gently did you treat them, like a fragile test subject which could crumble away at the slightest bit of mishandling— eyes gazing at the various lines running across your skin.

and strangely enough, each one told you a story.

not stories just anyone could understand— just you, of course, because you were the one who’d know the back of your hand well, after all.

your gaze travelled across the sharp ridges and falls of your knuckles, noting how the tender skin between them stretched as you folded your hands into a fist— eyes filled with an unexplainable awe that you yourself couldn’t describe.

this was how it felt like knowing something.

knowing, not in a crude way— like going on a quest for an unsure treasure, like getting information— no, it was knowing.

it was a pleasant feeling.

and as you stared at the back of your hand, a strange longing spread throughout your chest— a longing which you failed to understand, yet knew where it came from almost a second later.

of course.

to discover, to know— the thought whispered such encouraging little wants that you found yourself yearning for more— for more to discover, for more to know.

who, though?

. . .

maybe you knew the answer to that already.

and suddenly, you were sitting up on the mattress, fingers fumbling in a frenzied fashion to get out of your duvet— your feet taking quick steps towards the study desk placed just aside your bed, hands grabbing a pencil and a piece of paper that you managed to catch sight of at the corner of your eye.

a hasty stroke here, and a line there. you might have wanted to give the edge a bit of a softer tone, but you quickly dismissed the thought when you tried it out— impatiently rubbing away the unwanted addition.

your heart was pounding, so loud that you could hear it— as if it had suddenly lurched up to your throat— slightly ragged breaths escaping your parted lips; but you were not to stop anytime soon.

it didn’t take you long.

knees wobbling slightly due to the unexpected tension you had launched upon yourself earlier, you flopped back down on the bed— holding up the piece of paper up to your face just like you had held up your hand earlier— and you stared.

it wasn’t perfect, you knew— but oh how it made a faint red tinge to your cheeks appear— the sweet blush spreading across your face.

you’d been careful with his eyes— how they’d crease ever so slightly when he had that focused frown plastered on his face, how his bangs obscured the vision of his left eye a bit— how his lips pursed in a thoughtful manner whilst he decided which book to pick.

and before you knew, a smile had spread across your lips— one that you didn’t initiate, but rather your heart.

you longed for something, and here you had it right here— as if shielding you from some unknown light whilst you held it up to your face— and oh how your heart did a little dance.

a dance of longing.

longing to know this something of yours.

him.

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+ baby girl, look where we made it, girl

damn, he’d really outdone himself today.

first, dealing with satoru’s dramatic ass when he kept insisting on singing some cringey romantic songs to piss kento off— when he obviously wasn’t opposed to the idea— but then again, the song that his best friend had chosen had made bile come up to his throat, so he had very (not) respectfully declined the offer.

that was a big achievement itself, but here he was— having an umbrella clasped in his hands when he always was without one, most of the times.

it wasn’t that he forgot— nature had a strange relationship with him, somehow, always wanting him to get drenched in the little pelts of water it showered upon him— all the while sending everyone but him some sort of signal that it was going to rain.

changed, have you, nature?

suguru watched as his boots stepped over the little temporary ponds that the rain had created in the busy streets— occasionally, someone would run past him in search of a dry place— reminding himself of him, when nature had some sort of grudge against him.

his feet slowed down, eyes gazing up at the gray skies whilst tilting back his umbrella to a distance enough to keep himself dry— silently pondering over the endless horizon of nothingness, all the while raindrops pelted against his walking shelter— bouncing against the black fabric with an almost repetitive synchronization; like some sort of message that they were trying to whisper to him, some sort of thing that only he was supposed to know.

eyes turning back to the path ahead, he resumed his walk— picking up his pace, about to turn towards the left to head to his apartment when—

suguru paused, his breath catching in his throat.

you.

you looked beautiful in the rain.

though being drenched from head to toe, stray strands of your hair sticking to your face as you took hurried footsteps across the street with that exasperated look on your face— suguru thought you looked like the most breathtaking thing in the world, like something he was meant to stare at for eternity.

his gaze lingered on your figure as you walked fast enough to not let yourself slip— simply entranced by the way you moved— even though your movements were a bit jittery.

and oh how his heart clenched at the realisation.

you were shivering.

cold, you were— and here he was, unable to do anything but simply watch you from afar. here he was, warm in his overcoat and dry in under his umbrella— whilst your body trembled in the rain.

it wasn't fair, suguru thought.

you shouldn’t be there— shaking under the mocking, heavy raindrops that the sky hurled towards you, as your feet deseperately carried you to a dry place— no, you should be right here, with him; in his arms, all the while he shielded you from the rain and provided you with his warmth—

suguru paused, forced to tear his focus away from his thoughts as he watched your figure abruptly stop next to a small box on the ground.

his eyes narrowed— what were you thinking? you shouldn’t be out here, what if you got sick?—

the male’s breath catched in his throat.

you were crouching down infront of the box, a hesitant expression on your face— which made his heart clench— it was almost as if you were making a difficult choice, one that tore your heart apart.

yet, you did it anyway.

suguru’s eyes widened as you took out a book from your bag— the very same book you had with you at all times, one that he believed was your source of comfort— and pried it open, parting it in half— before you placed it upside down, over something in the drenched box.

your little smile as you walked away was something suguru would never forget in his entire life.

his eyes watched your retreating figure as if caught in a daze— he hadn’t even noticed how tight his grip had become on the handle of his umbrella, hadn’t noticed how he had been holding his breath.

though suguru did not know much about you, he knew that— that book mattered to you.

it had mattered to you so damn much.

watching you from the corner of his eye as his fingers had skimmed over the various covers of the non-fiction books arranged on the mahogany bookshelves, he had seen how you always had that book with you— like a companion, like a constant being that stayed with you no matter what— suguru had watched it being a part of yourself.

and yet, you had left that part of yourself today.

for what?

and before he knew it, he was walking— taking long strides over to the box, expression hardened and demanding— he simply had to know—

oh.

a small meow escaped the little kitten as it stared curiously up at suguru, sheltered underneath the hard cover of your book.

oh.

for this.

and as suguru walked back to his apartment, the raindrops soaking him through, he couldn’t help the little grin on his face— the image of his umbrella over the box while it kept your book and the lil’ feline dry playing on and on into his mind like a broken melody.

a melody he would never get tired of hearing.

so this was the message nature was trying to tell him?

that he’d always get drenched in every rain, even if he did bring an umbrella with him.

suguru shook his head, sighing to himself.

good one, nature.

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° I'm taking this moment, ooh, with me, nah Wherever I'm going I'm happy you're coming, ooh, with me With me, yeah

you were distracted.

you knew that.

even when he walked in, the gentle tinkling of the bell filling the air; your head was down in your arms— a blank expression on your face, as you simply breathed.

or tried to focus on your breathing.

but there was just this constant lump in your throat that restricted you from doing so— this very lump that made you feel as if you were drowning, as if you were suffocating in your own turmoil of thoughts—

you missed it.

your book.

oh, how you missed it— so much that your heart hurt whenever you thought about it.

but you also knew that it would have been reduced to a soggy, barely readable mess now— probably taken away by a pick-up garbage truck, gone; just like that.

just like how you had given that kitten a temporary shield from the rain. just like that.

hey, at least that was the little silver thread— if not lining— on the this cloud that weighed over your head like a constant, haunting ghost; making your heart feel a bit lighter, if not lifting your spirits entirely.

if you had been your usual admiring self today, you would’ve noticed how he had gone to the thriller, not non-fiction section of the bookstore— how his fingers hadn’t lingered onto the book covers thoughtfully, how he had a knowing, not contemplative expression on his face— how he had picked out a book and came back without staying for a bit and browsing through some other ones. as he usually did.

strange how things work when you decide to let go of yourself for a while.

a sudden tap on the counter made you jump— and oh your heart did a little flip; your eyes meeting his dark pools, how you wanted to drown into them— how you wanted to just get lost in them and, gladly, never be found again.

you stared at him, and he stared back— neither of you saying anything for a while.

an unspoken connection between you two coursed through your minds— and both of you were sure that the other could feel it too— how could you not, when it was so painfully obvious in the way your eyes glimmered and his dark gaze softened as he watched you?

. . .

“good afternoon,” he said, and you thought you’d fall if not for your chair beneath you as you stood, knees wobbling slightly— you could listen to that voice of his everyday, and you still wouldn’t get enough— “may i buy this book?”

your gaze flickered down to the book in question, and your eyes widened ever so slightly— breath catching in your throat.

it was another copy of the same book you had left some days ago.

swallowing that lump in your throat, you raised your head tentatively to meet his eyes, a small, hesitant smile grazing your lips—

“y-yeah, uh..” you stammered, and almost immediately regretted it, cheeks burning oh so red in embarrassment, “that’d be . . three hundred and ninety nine yen.”

“alright,” he said in that dizzying voice of his, and you quickly looked back at the book to not let it affect you.

you tried not look, tried not to pay attention to how his hands slid the coin so gently onto the counter— as if he was afraid you’d crumble away if he was a bit too harsh— tried not to notice the small, almost fond smile that tugged at the corner of his lips as he gazed at you, not the book.

you tried not to see, but then again, how could you not when he was involved?

your fingers trembled ever so slightly as you returned the change, hands putting the book in a bag in an almost mechanical manner— but as you raised your head to hand him the book— he wasn’t there.

gone.

your eyes widened, mouth opening to call out to him— but you paused, catching sight of a little note on the counter you hadn’t noticed before.

‘i thought i’d explore another genre other than non-fiction.

tell me about it when you finish reading, won’t you?

suguru geto.’

and oh how you fell to your chair, slumping back as a stupidly wide grin made way to your face— how your cheeks flushed red, and how your fingers trembled as you held onto that note— how a hushed, little laugh escaped your lips in such a tender, genuine manner that it seemed as if you were being embraced by a soothing spirit.

but did you care?

not one bit, if he was involved.

and as suguru walked back to his apartment, he gazed up at the sky— a small smile plastered on his face, hands shoved in his pockets as he felt the breeze caress his face in a gentle, reassuring manner— as it was proud of him.

and so he was, too.

proud of himself and his little something.

you.

☆ @stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works without my permission.

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