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maiverie · 2 years ago

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TAGLIST 2: @lovnayeon @tobiosbbyghorl @pocketwonton @beomkj @hysique @doqie @cruelfever @roshiandia @woniesluv @fiantomartell @moonchildaera @yeongwonie @h4nnnnnnnj @cloudykyu @sunkitsch @raeinchu @axartia @iwuvjay @love-4-keum @jeongyeon27 @hydroqenbreaths @mika-t3t @enhacolor @ineedaherosavemeenow @jjayeongi @jungwonize @yurazuyori @butterfly-ningg @itzyfeet @2bbang-hoon @skyvwonie @vmpnoo @xcherrybbyx @dreamenvi @wwjlln7 @glamchan @byjwn @dimplewonie @gyuuberryy @loves0ft @raikea10 @ggisbbq @luvishee @person-standing @kissomen @yunhowooyo @tomorrowbymoa-together @shinsou-rii @ssunnk @saucytaehyung @koakyuu @yannnnaj @sunswoonie @ditzy-e @enhas-bestie @hee-in @cyuuupid @solxrssun @hyuckishere @soobisms @svnoofy @heeseungging @nyanggk @my5colors @sseastar-main @ohnle

TRIAGE! ┊ a lee heeseung series — FINALE ♡

you try to teach the nerd how to date.

synopsis: heeseung is not, by any measure, date-able. he’s dorky, he’s nerdy, and he does this weird thing where he snorts loudly every time he laughs. in fact, he loves everything that normal people are allergic to — computer science, collecting rare comic books, and birdwatching on the weekend.

given that you two have obviously nothing in common, you find yourself utterly flabbergasted when you receive a letter in your locker, on which heeseung has written, "hi. will you please teach me how to date?"

MASTERLIST HERE !

kayla’s playlist (@/miiiwaa) ♡ my shitty og playlist . tags : #.*triage .

TAGLIST

@enhyflirt @dreamyenskz @icedcoffeesunwoo @ssolari @skazoo @jjunis @heejake-en @koroktsuya @jeongwins @tinykoi-s @en-boyz @soobin-chois @blessed-sky @jhyunieee @kisswon @vbxrin @cosmicsunghoon @bloomedberry @jungwonielove @miiiwaa @jungwoniee @lhsng @missharubear @deonuism @sarahxy537 @bambisgirl @hrrhmay-primaryblog @yeonzzun @msxflower @sunsunu @jangwonie @sweetjaemss @seungstarss @tokyoflies @solelyenha @softforqiankun @goodforgyu @va1ry @taekbokki @ashxxkook @moon-gyus @jakeified @markleeisdabestdrug @wccycc @viagumi @pisss111 @outrologist @fairfairee @hiqhkey @ctrlemis

chapter five (finale)

word count: 8k | navigation: previous / MASTERLIST warnings: swearing, (verbal) bullying a/n: final chapter; thank you so much for reading this far. sorry this took so long to get to you :(

‎‎‏‏‎ ‎

‘let’s have a little talk, you dweeb.’

heeseung had been backed into a corner.

while he often liked to reserve that idiom for metaphoric effect, he means it quite literally — ryujin and taehyun had literally backed him into a corner of a bedroom with no way out.

it was obvious he had stumbled across something he shouldn’t have.

ryujin and taehyun kissing? how disturbing.

if it were up to him, he truly wouldn’t have meddled in their business. however, the way they’re sneering at him leads him to believe that they think his actions were intentional. he wants to insist that no part of this was deliberate—that he was honestly just trying to find you—but tense silence circulates the trio and he has no inclination to speak first.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” ryujin punctuates the silence with her malice, making him inwardly wince. her hands find their way to her hips as she openly scowls with disdain. “god, you’re annoying.”

“i-i should go,” heeseung lowers his head, scratching the nape of his neck. “i didn’t mean to intrude,” he laughs nervously in an attempt to dispel their hostility, “i was just trying to find—”

“no, you should stay.” taehyun suggests, a smirk slithering to his lips. he rolls his head around his neck before sighing contently. “you should stay and play with us.”

play…?

heeseung physically recoils with horror, stomach twisting with unease. there’s something about taehyun’s predatory stare that flares goosebumps all the way across his arms. he realises that the most wise decision right now is to escape the enclosed space as soon as possible.

“sorry, i-i don’t want to keep my parents waiting,” he lies, lowering his head. “they’re downstairs.”

the two exchange impish glances.

“well, we won’t be long,” ryujin stifles a laugh before taking a seat on the bed. she folds one leg over the other, leaning back with her arms propped up. “since you were creeping on us, we thought you could exchange the favour and tell us all about your girlfriend.”

“girlfriend?” heeseung blinks. he doesn’t have a girlfr— oh.

miss sunset.

you? his… girlfriend?

as if.

“oh,” heeseung dips his head shyly. “n-no, you’re mistaken. she’s, um… she’s not my girlfriend.”

if he were being honest, he was kind of hoping to change that some day.

“what, so you guys haven’t fucked yet?” ryujin bats her lashes, a playful stare in her eyes.

heeseung’s brows instantly furrow, a frown on his lips. frankly, he was a little bugged by their vulgarity and the tone used to address you. this was the same type of contempt he noticed in other people in his life — like his aunt at her wedding, who pulled him aside and cautioned that ‘girls like that are foxes, heeseung! they’re nothing but trouble.’

it shouldn't matter, because they’re all wrong.

every single one of them.

they're wrong.

it boggles his mind that people can’t see what he sees.

then again, it can’t be helped that all the best things about you are what can’t be seen. sure, you’re so pretty that sometimes he can’t even meet your eyes properly, but you’re also warmer and kinder than you give yourself credit to be. you must not realise, but he notices the little things you do for him — like the way you clean his glasses when he places them down on the table to sleep; or the way you pretend you’re full so he can finish the rest of your lunch; or the way you scribble encouraging little notes and drawings on his textbooks when you know he has a long night of studying ahead of him.

it boggles his mind that some people may never have the privilege of peeking behind the curtain to see that you’re warm, and funny, and kind, and caring. you embody everything that his well-fitting nickname suggests. miss sunset — a blaze of colour; an explosion of soft yellows, bright oranges, fierce reds, pearly pinks and vibrant purples.

you’re a fiery kiss to the sky.

it’s both a shame and an honour that he’s able to keep you to himself.

“you know she likes you, right?” ryujin smirks, erecting from the bed.

heeseung’s eyes instantly round. “wh-what?”

“yeah,” she slowly slinks toward him. “she told me.”

“r-really?”

“duh. why wouldn’t she? we’re best friends,” ryujin scoffs, arms folded. “and i know her better than anyone. we’ve known each other since we were little kids, you know.”

heeseung notices that you don’t often talk about your relationship with ryujin and taehyun. you don’t really tell heeseung much about anything from your past, but he would certainly consider your old friendships to be the biggest elephant in the room. he doesn’t doubt that you were all once close friends, but he knows you haven’t been in contact with them for a while now. it’s obvious why, in his opinion — they’re mean-spirited people who enjoy sinking their claws into people and injecting poison.

they’re callous and vicious and hateful. they’re everything that you’re not.

‘best friends’? he felt insulted for you.

it was like trying to hold a candle to the sun.

“what… what was she like?” heeseung can’t help but ask, his stomach doing a little flip at the thought of you as a child. he knows he should probably leave the room, but the temptation runs too deep — he wants to consume everything about you.

what did your hair look like? what did your laugh sound like? did you prefer playing outside or staying inside? what made you smile during the day and what kept you up at night?

his heart began to thump at the thought of these answers before reluctance settled in.

was it wrong to wonder these many things about you?

was he allowed to be curious?

would that truly be okay — given that you were a goddess and he was next to nothing?

“cute,” ryujin replies, head bobbing. “she was cute.”

aha!

heeseung can’t help but smile profusely. “of course! i knew it,” he mumbles, blushing to himself. of course she was cute; beauty like that must have been obvious even at a young age.

ryujin’s razor-sharp stare remained. she seemed to study heeseung carefully before lowering her gaze. “she was also kind of mean, i guess,” she continued, inspecting her nails nonchalantly. “a bit of a bully.”

taehyun stifled a laugh at this, and they exchanged knowing glances as though they were indulging in an inside joke. “oh, yeah, i remember she once bullied that kid for sitting in her seat.”

bullied?

heeseung frowned, doubtful about their claims. he reminds himself that they’re both the type of people to embellish any story for their own entertainment. “you’re wrong,” he frowns. “she wouldn’t do something like that. sh-she’s not like you. she’s different.”

ryujin’s lips extend into a smile. “how well do you think you know her?”

his frown deepened. “better than you do.”

the pair instantly burst into cacophonous laughter that seems to poison the air in the room.

heeseung bites his bottom lip, feeling unease swirling around at the pit of his stomach.

“really?” ryujin defies him with a raised brow. “you really think you know her that well?”

he nods slowly.

“okay,” she tilts her head, “then where is she right now?”

heeseung’s eyes flicker to the ground. he didn’t know the answer to that question, but that wasn’t indicative of anything. “well, i-i don’t know, but… she’ll be back—”

“obviously, she ditched you. she left you, heeseung, it’s something we used to do a lot. we’d invite two or three suckers to a party, get them drunk as shit, and then make them entertain us for the next few hours.”

his eyes widened as he fell into momentary silence, forming as many rational justifications as he could. “but… i was the one who asked her to come with me. and… and you just told me that she… she likes me.”

ryujin rolled her eyes. “the only reason yuna invited you was because we thought it’d be funny. plus, don’t get me wrong — i’m sure she likes you, but don’t put any weight on that. it’s like how a person can like a helpless puppy. it’s pity; that’s all it is.”

“th-that doesn’t mean anything.” heeseung felt discomfort sprout inside his chest, branching insidiously in his lungs and up his throat. “that has nothing to do with her! she’s… she’s an angel.”

“really?” ryujin slithered over toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder, clenching it tightly to bring their faces close. “then why’d she tell us about that letter of yours?”

heeseung felt his heart drop to his feet. “wh-what?”

“the letter you left in her locker,” ryujin continued. “what did it say again? something like…” she pretended to brainstorm, tapping her chin with a finger. “oh! right… wasn’t it something like hi, will you please teach me how to date?” ryujin giggled as taehyun joined in snickering from behind.

his breathing quickened. the letter.

you told him you never told anyone about that.

did you lie?

maybe they’re bluffing — you wouldn’t do that. and even if you did lie, you would have definitely told heeseung afterward, right?

“the funniest part was the fact that you signed it off like the fucking virgin-loser you are. kind regards, lee heeseu—” they cackled again, this time even louder. they continued to banter with one another by echoing the contents of the letters.

heeseung felt himself shrink. hot tears burned his eyes as he felt their humiliation pile on and on as though they were determined in hammering him into the ground.

“oh my god,” ryujin laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes. “gee, thanks for tonight’s entertainment, heeseung,” she chuckles off the rest of her amusement, “i wish i took a photo of the letter or something. so that i could share it around with—”

“no!” heeseung cried as he swallowed the lump in his throat and began to enter a swivet of panic. “d-don’t! i-i—”

“you’re shaking like a leaf!” ryujin pouts, reaching to grab his shoulder before he flinches. “it’s okay. i won’t tell anyone. unlike your girlfriend, i know how to keep secrets,” she whistled. “say, heeseung… i’m keeping a lot of secrets these days, aren’t i?” she brushed his hair with her fingers.

“even yours.”

he stopped dead, chest rising up and down as he attempted to breathe. he tried to clear his tears with rapid blinking, but it only resulted

“don’t worry. we’ve been nice. we haven’t told her your secret yet,” she winked.

yet?

“listen,” ryujin’s voice lowers, her finger lifting his chin so that he faces her. “i really don’t want to keep your parents waiting for too long, so i’ll say this: your girlfriend’s not a saint. she’s vicious in her own way. and if you hate us for the things we make you do, then you should hate her, too. why? because she and i are exactly the same — everything we’ve done to you, she’s done to someone else.”

“y-you’re… you’re wrong.” he turned away from her finger.

ryujin hummed once. “well, let’s face the facts.” her lips slowly lifted into a grin. “you’re alone right now, heeseung. she’s not even here. she left you. i saw her get in the car and leave just earlier. go ahead and look outside if you don’t believe me.”

heeseung’s gaze flickered to the ground.

“but anyway,” ryujin whirls around and exchanges a smile with taehyun. “we gotta go… we wouldn’t want to stay out too late since we have an early morning, right?” she smirks. “we’ll see you tomorrow, heeseung. at the police station.”

“wh-what? why?”

“because someone ratted us out,” taehyun chimes in, eyes rolling. “so we’ll keep your secret so long as you do one more favour for us.”

you can have your puzzle back. i don't want it anymore.

“you can have your puzzle back.” your little sun says, his voice lowering into a register so low that you almost miss it. “i don’t want it anymore.”

the room remained dark as heeseung’s words hung like ghosts in dead silence.

it was deafening, the way his whisper was the softest sound you’d ever heard. you were holding your breath, fearing a reality in which i don’t want it anymore meant something beyond what you could hear at face value.

“i don’t want your stupid gift,” he croaks, burying his face in his hands, stifling a sob. “j-just… please, just leave me alone.”

finding him sitting in the dark room alone and crying made your heart shatter. it was easy to confront the idea that ryujin or taehyun had hurt him, but you weren’t equipped to face the possibility that it might have been you. the distance he was creating between the two of you allowed your inner antagonisms to fester — your chest tightened with unease, exacerbated by the pressure of fear expanding within you.

“h-heeseung,” you blurted in surprise, your throat so parched that it forced you to swallow and brace yourself for what felt like impending heartbreak. “why…”

you were so stunned that it honestly felt as though time had stopped moving for a moment. you allowed space to pour between the two of you — you let a beat pass, then two, then three, then four, and with each one that scurried by, you grew more and more apprehensive that he wasn’t going to retrace his steps. you thought there was a chance he’d backpedal his words and tell you they’d sprung from his chest in the heat of the moment, but instead, he let you soak in abject misery.

your heart sank. above everything, you were terrified — he was slipping away from you like dust between your fingertips. it wasn’t long before tears followed — they blurred your vision, no matter how many times you’d tried to dismiss them with your hands.

“h-heeseung?” you called his name softly and hoped to peel his fingers away from his face, but he flinched at your touch. in every attempt you make in closing the distance, you find that heeseung draws a line between you; each harsher than the last. he recoils at your touch, shrivels at the sound of your voice, and offers you nothing but a view of his back that shields you away.

he was cowering from you.

it made you feel ill. sick. like the taste of bile was rising to your mouth and leaving an acidic, ghostly burn in your throat. bit by bit, your resolve was crumbling like a house of cards.

“tell me what’s wrong,” you begged him, crouching before him on the carpet though he curled away from you. “i promise i’ll fix it, okay? i’ll fix everything.”

“y-you can’t,” he sniffled.

you felt your throat constrict. “why not?”

“because…” heeseung finally lifted his head, and the moment your eyes locked with his bloodshot ones, it felt as though his fear, hurt, and pain ricocheted back to you tenfold and struck you like a stab to the heart. he sniffled again. “because you lied,” you saw his eyes well with tears again, “and i lied, and—” his voice became smaller. “all we do is lie to each other.”

perhaps this was what you’d always feared — that you were going to be the one to break him.

after all, you had a tendency to do precisely that. you can’t even count the number of times you’d accidentally shattered the dishes in the kitchen that your mother adored so dearly. or the number of bones you’d broken during wild dares from late nights. or the countless number of fractured friendships in your life because you never really struggled with breaking — whether they were dishes, or bones, or promises, or hearts.

was he another?

was heeseung just another one of those things you were always bound to break?

“please leave,” his voice was becoming softer, and softer, and softer, further eclipsed by his cries. you could tell he was struggling to make out his words. you could also tell that he was being honest.

you’ve never had anyone beg you like this before.

“okay,” you whisper, tears littering the carpet. “i’ll leave.”

unable to look at him any further, you twist on your heels. you do what you do best — you run. you run down the stairs and out the house and run and run and run, ashamed that this story has unfolded the exact way anyone could have predicted.

he hates you, you may love him, and neither of you are puzzle pieces that fit together.

perhaps heeseung was right; perhaps you truly are sunrises and sunsets, because alike parallel lines, the two never meet.

perhaps heeseung never taught you to heal after all. perhaps broken bones and hearts can never properly heal, the same way cuts and grazes may leave permanent scars on our bodies. perhaps your body did what it could to fix what broke, but it only took one gust of wind to retrace old scars and re-break what will always remain broken.

you’ve never been very good with your emotions.

you constantly misrepresent them.

you smile when you’re sad, frown when you’re happy, say things you don’t mean and omit the words that you resonate deepest with.

after the party, you cried like you have never cried before. it was a foreign, almost out-of-body experience. every emotion exploded and pierced through the thin surface they were bubbling beneath. your scathing tears had soaked everything — your eyes, your cheeks, and your pillow late through the night. the worst of it was the heaviness inside your chest that ceased to subside, one so hefty that it was the reason you felt like you were sinking to the bottom of an ocean.

it was only until the next morning that anger, the emotion you consider to be the easiest to wear, brought you the energy to pay a visit to ryujin. you were going to get the answers to all your questions.

after all, that was what you’d learned over the years — anger is the only emotion that gets you answers.

which is why you began with ruthlessly banging your fist on her front door.

“open the door, ryujin!” you bellow.

bang! bang! bang!

what could she have possibly said to heeseung?

bang! bang! bang!

why? why was it that ryujin was so insistent on butting in your life?

bang! bang! bang!

was this some form of karmic reparation? was the universe simply rescinding what should have never been yours in the first place?

you didn’t know what you were going to do. or say, for that matter. yet here you were, desperately trying to claw your way up to the surface where the sun kisses the water. to hell you were going to let this heaviness make you sink and give ryujin the satisfaction.

with no response on the other end, you began to kick the door now.

bang! bang! bang!

“i said, open this fucking d—”

it finally swings open.

“are you fucking nuts?” ryujin shrieks from the other side, face contorted with outrage and disbelief. she glances at the door before openly gaping at you. “what the hell? you’re going to break the fucking do—”

you waste no time in lunging toward her. you shove her with both hands, thrusting her so far behind that she lurches back and stumbles onto the floor. while sprawled on the ground, ryujin instantly snaps her head up at you and scowls. “what the fuck is wro—”

yet again, you don’t give her much time to react. you step toward her, making her scramble back before her back hits the wall. as the distance between the two of you closes, you crouch in front of her and roughly push the side of her head with a finger.

“what, ryujin?” you smirk vindictively. “did that hurt?”

her chest sharply rises heavily when she meets your icy glower. “get out.”

though she attempts to pick herself up from the floor, you harshly grip her shoulder and force her back down. you reach over and tap her cheek condescendingly, your voice now a lowly whisper.

“how funny,” you scoff, head tilted. “i thought i told you to stay out of my life.”

she grits her teeth. “i said, get out.”

“why should i? you’re the one who keeps insisting on getting involved in my shit.”

“you’re batshit.” she gapes at you. “is this about that dweeb?”

“his name is heeseung.” you snap at her, bunching the collar of her shirt in your fist. you yank her toward you, your other fist lifted and curled.

ryujin barks out a dry laugh when her eyes flit to the sight of your fist. “you’re going to punch me?” she snickers again in disbelief. the sight of her grin makes your fist tighten under her shirt. anger. you felt your anger simmer at cautionary temperatures and slowly branch up in your neck to your face.

“what did you do to him?” you grit your teeth, breathing slowly to control your emotions.

it was difficult, because you felt as though she relished at the sight of your anger. she must have recognised your most familiar emotion and felt as though you had shifted back into becoming your old self. you saw it in the way her lips curled, and the way her brows had lifted, and most notably, in the way her eyes paraded a small, tiny, starry glint that conveyed her amusement.

it made you wonder if she was doing this all intentionally.

just to get a reaction out of you.

just to get something.

“it wasn’t exactly what we did to him,” she smirked. “it was what he did to himself, really.”

“where’s taehyun?” you reach over and slowly comb your fingers through her hair, before closing your fist and grasping a bundle of her strands, jerking her head backwards. “i want him to see your face all battered up. you know, before i beat the living shit out of him, too.”

she sneers at you. “why don’t you ask heeseung? i’m sure he’ll know exactly where taehyun is.”

you narrow your eyes at her. “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“they’re probably together right now.”

heeseung and taehyun? together?

you scoff. “what?”

she stifles a laugh, and there it is again — that glint. like a tiny star amidst a midnight canvas. you could feel the anger grow like an inferno within you. that glint was pestering you; it was almost begging for you to reach over and extinguish it. you grip her hair harsher, this time yanking her head backward.

she yelps as you pin her down with a glower. “tell me where.”

she hisses at the pain of your grip on her hair and narrows her eyes. “police station, obviously,” she spat with a glare.

her eyes met yours, where your confusion must have been evident. those midnight eyes turned with patronising pity. “wow,” she remarked sarcastically. “the idiot still hasn’t told you.”

“ryujin,” you lean toward her and hiss slowly, with the intended effect that each syllable augments your hostility, “say one more thing about him and i’ll bash your skull against the cement.”

“now tell me,” you hiss, “what are they doing at the police station?” though your words appeared to be laced with composed venom, the truth remained that your heart had begun to drum. everything was coming at a surprise — you couldn’t imagine what would ever bring heeseung to a police station, though you could enumerate a thousand reasons for taehyun.

“like i said, heeseung did it to himself.”

not satisfied with her answer, you yank her hair again and this time she attempts to strike you with her free arm, but you grab her wrist and desist her from doing so. she winces when you pull her hair tighter, prompting her to quickly open her mouth and elaborate. “okay, okay!” she cries. “he was the one who agreed to take the drug test for taehyun!”

your lips drop into a frown. “what?”

“then the police found out, okay?” she seethed. “we needed him to come in and deny everything. happy?”

you stopped in confusion. what the hell was she talking about? as you sifted through the many thoughts that raced in your mind, you finally froze when you began to comprehend the situation.

you remember now. it was that day — the day you’d first met heeseung in the school hallway, when taehyun had set his eyes upon and sunken his claws into his latest victim.

taehyun was a drug user, and when he was finally caught by the school, he was mandated to perform probationary urine tests. he constantly evaded these tests by intimidating somebody into giving him fake samples. this was common practice, and it just so happened that heeseung was his chosen victim the day you two had first met.

heeseung never told you that.

he never told you that he went through with it.

“i mean, maybe if he’d kept his mouth shut or done a better job at peeing in a fucking cup, things wouldn’t be like this. in saying that, whose fault is it really?” ryujin rambled on, rubbing salt to the wound as your anger multiplied. “it was still fun at least. especially when we got to talk about you.”

your hand balled into a tighter fist.

“me?” you pin her down with a dark gaze. “what the fuck did you say about me?”

she shrugs smugly. you watched as a sly smile slithered to her lips and her eyes pooled with shiny darkness. “nothing that wasn’t true.”

your heart drops to your feet.

“you know, it’s funny,” ryujin stifles a laugh, “because he denied it at first. said that you were…” she lifts her hands and uses her fingers to show quotation marks, “different.” you felt your anxiety pierce and gush into your stomach. “we laughed in his face. different, my ass. you didn’t tell him, did you? that you’re actually as much of a piece of shit as we are. he even called you an angel, you know that?”

angel.

“so we decided to set the record straight and we told him what he had the right to know.” she giggled. “you didn’t forget, did you?”

you stared.

“the letter,” she reminds you. “he was so embarrassed i think that was when he started to cry.”

you froze.

the letter.

fuck.

you wanted nothing more than to run to heeseung and clarify the misunderstanding as best that you could. you wanted to talk to him. hold him. apologise and tell him you’d never intentionally hurt him. that it was an accident — that you lied, yes, but you just didn’t want him to feel embarrassed at that time. that it was a lapse in judgement.

but for some reason, something holds you back.

anger.

anger holds you back.

the thing about anger is that while it may be your most familiar emotion, it is also the most paralysing of them all. and when it’s combined with resentment, it becomes insidious. the reality about anger is that it exists only in the absence of control, a dangerous condition to find yourself in.

nevertheless, you feel that way.

you feel out of control.

helpless. angry. frustrated.

why? because that glint is still there. the gleaming, ostentatious star in her eyes that flounces around in her own delight. mocking you.

ryujin is staring at you expectantly, anticipating your reaction.

you know that she’s waiting for you to punch her. to show her you prefer fists over words. to show her you have not changed in the slightest. everything she has done is aimed to get a rise out of you; she doesn’t care about anything else but avenging the fact you had tossed your friendship to the side — that you had tossed her aside.

in this moment, you realise that no matter how hard you try, you know that ryujin has won. she doesn’t even need to try very hard to show you that you will never be able to change into a better person. your efforts have come to naught. even now, you are held by anger; you want it to control you — even if it means reversing everything heeseung had taught you about not acting upon your impulses; about not fighting fire with fire.

you wonder how heeseung would react if he found out what you’d done today. that you’d allowed anger to override you and that you had already used your hands on ryujin.

you pushed her, shoved her to the ground and pulled her hair without a second thought.

after all, you’d proven her right — you are still the same person.

how would he react?

these very thoughts loosen your grip on ryujin’s collar.

you slowly retract your hands from her, feeling the heaviness inside your chest gnaw at you. why are you stooping to her level? as you swallow and salvage whatever amount of sense you have left, you shake your head and slowly rise to your feet.

if heeseung saw you now, he’d probably be scared.

he’d probably see them in you.

your sudden withdrawal makes ryujin freeze. she seems taken off guard. she watches you suspiciously as you attempt to compose yourself, noticeably irked by your lack of response. “you’re… not going to hit me?” she hesitates, sitting up slowly.

“ryujin, you and i are done.” you attempt to stabilise your shaky breaths. for some reason, focusing on heeseung helps your mind from spinning. he’s your anchor and when you use him as your moral compass, he brings the clarity you need. “for real this time.”

“what?” ryujin splutters with disbelief. she pauses, openly gawking. “what the fuck?” she scrambles to her feet and storms over toward you before abruptly shoving you into the door — the impact thunders down your spine and instantly releases a grunt from you, head spinning.

“hit me!” she taunts you by sneering in your face. “i made your little boy cry. hit me.”

“if he wanted me to, i honestly would,” you spit at her. “you should thank him you’re not bleeding out right now.”

she yells as you storm away from her house and it occurs to you that there’s really only one person you want to see right now.

you want to tell him that he was right.

you are different from ryujin after all.

and you will do whatever it takes to stray further and further away from being anything remotely similar.

‘you never know.’ ‘you might wake up one day and find that the sun is gone.’ ‘and then it’s like, poof — no more sunsets.’

heeseung was right.

the day you two had first met, you laughed and called him a loser for taking photos of the sunset. after all, he was attempting to immortalise something that was already a cosmic promise.

honestly, you didn’t get it.

what was the point of taking a photo of something he could see every day?

you realise now that he was right all along – it really was possible to wake up one day and find the sun gone.

everybody just has a different idea of what the sun is to them. for you, yours disappeared when you realised heeseung was doing whatever it took to avoid you over the weekend.

your texts were left unanswered.

calls were sent to voicemail.

he was shutting you out.

you tried to visit his house on sunday morning, but his mother faced you with a regretful smile and asked you not to come in. you didn’t know what else you could do because he seemed to close down every avenue you pursued.

you were so eager on monday morning to see him at school. you were an hour and a half early as you roamed everywhere, attempting to control your nerves. you didn’t know whether or not you should have waited at the school entrance, or by his locker, or just outside the classroom door.

it didn't matter, because he was late.

you were already halfway through the day when you had almost given up, though you got your first glimpse of him in days when he had finally showed up.

he looked almost as horrible as you did.

the darkness under his eyes had grown. his brown hair was fluffy and in plain disarray compared to how he usually styled it. his eyes were so puffy that it looked like he’d been crying all weekend, the same way you had. you tried to catch his eyes, but he didn’t return your gaze and instead slid into his desk quietly with his shoulders slumped.

there was a pang in your chest. his appearance made guilt expand within you.

did you do the impossible? did you break the sun and make it rain?

when class finished, you waited outside the door and stopped him when he tried to leave. it was only then that he finally looked back at you and you felt your heart stop. it took you all the strength to not cry, so you snaked a hand around his wrist and led the way to the school’s court garden.

“heeseung,” you faced him when you both stopped at a quiet place inside the open garden. his gaze was affixed to the grass beneath his shoes, so you took a deep breath and let the words flow from your chest.

“heeseung, i’m so sorry for lying to you about the letter.”

he didn’t reply.

it stung to hear silence on the other end because you weren’t used to it. you were used to heeseung’s warmth; his smiles, his laughs, and the bright stars in his eyes. instead, he seemed to have retreated back into a shell of dejection.

you gulped and fiddled with your hands. “i-i should have told you the truth. ryujin saw it, yes, but it wasn’t because i showed her. i-i just… she was there when i found it in my locker. that’s it. it’s not an excuse for lying, but i promise i would never intentionally embarrass you.”

you waited for his response and still found silence. this was when panic slowly crept up inside you.

“i-i really fucked up when i lied to you. i just didn’t want to embarrass you, and the more time that went on, the weirder it felt to bring it up. but i should have told you the truth. i’m sorry, heeseung.”

there was a pause before he finally lifted his head.

“stop apologising,” he whispered so gently you almost missed it.

“wh-what?”

“it was here,” he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and roamed the area with his eyes. “i-i think it was here when you told me to stop apologising to people. you said i said sorry too much.”

god, you felt relief in your chest, it felt nice to hear his voice again. you were worried he might never talk to you again.

as you briefly considered his answer, you glanced around and recognised the bench you two had sat on when he’d tried to confess to lia. he was right — it was exactly here that you two had your first real conversation. your stomach twisted. he always remembers everything.

“i’m really sorry for ignoring you over the weekend.” heeseung finally returned your stare, and once your eyes had met, you felt your heart squeeze at the sight of misery in his pretty eyes. you hate the sight of him like this. this must be one of the worst things you’ve ever done. you wanted nothing more than for the rain to stop and the clouds to pave way for your sunshine.

“i-i just needed some space,” he continued gently. “and actually… mom thought it was a better idea for her to take my phone, so i didn’t see your texts.”

“oh,” you replied, noticing the distant tone in his voice. “it’s okay, heeseung. i understand.”

“but, um… i did a lot of thinking,” he says, smiling weakly.

you smiled back, though trepidation edged along your nerves. “o-okay.”

his eyes diverted to the side. “i… i wasn’t sad over the weekend because of the letter. i—” you saw his eyes flicker upwards toward the sky, as though he was attempting to contain his tears. “i-i think… i was just upset because…” he bit on his lips as you watched him deliberate over his next words. your heart was beating faster and faster at the possibility this may be the last conversation you ever have with him. it was selfish, but you didn’t know if that would be manageable for you.

because even if he didn’t need you, you needed him.

“because i didn’t tell you about taehyun,” his lips fell into a sad frown. “thing is, i… i was really embarrassed about it. and… well, i-i…” he took a deep, shaky breath.

you knew he was gathering as much courage as he could to speak with you.

“i just really, really, really hate embarrassing myself in front of the person that i like.”

he finally looked up at you and everything in you stopped. blood felt like the crackling of lightning in your veins. every other sound seemed to dull into a deafening silence.

“to clarify, th-that’s you. y-you’re the person that i like. a lot. i like you really a lot— that... doesn’t make sense,” he winced at himself, eyes shut tightly. “i’m sorry, i… i sound so stupid right now.” he slumped his shoulders.

“heeseung, i—”

“wait. p-please let me continue,” he looked up at you through his glasses and you fell straight into his deer-like eyes.

“okay,” you whispered. “go on.”

“i… i just want to be good enough for you,” he finally admitted and you felt everything around you crash. him? good enough for you? he already was; he was more than enough. you were the one struggling to catch up with him. “be someone you can depend on. someone you can trust and be proud of.”

“heeseung,” you step toward him and clasp his hands with yours, forcing him to look back at you. “you’re right. you really do sound stupid.”

“h-huh?” he peered up at you as you saw panic flicker like disco lights in his eyes. “i-i’m sorry, i… i just wanted to come clean and not lie to you anymore. i’m really sorry for pressuring you, i—”

“no,” you shook your head, silencing him immediately. “it’s not because of that.”

you dropped his hands and slid yours in the spaces under his arms where you could wrap around his waist and embrace him into a tight hug. he instantly froze while you allowed yourself to melt into him, your face in his chest.

“fuck,” you mumbled against his uniform, inhaling the scent of his laundry powder. “i missed you like crazy.”

his heart was hammering inside his chest and you squeezed yourself tighter, finding solace in the synchronicity of your beat with his.

“two days and i felt like i was going insane,” you gripped his blazer tightly, “i… i thought you hated me.”

“hate you? n-no way…”

a stupidly wide smile stretched across your lips. slowly, you noticed heeseung was beginning to return your embrace. his arms slowly found their way to your back, and once they rested on your body, you allowed yourself to take a proper breath, engraving memories associated with his scent.

“i like you too, dummy,” you mumbled against the fabric. “ceaselessly. probably way more than you like me.”

“you—”

“yes, me.”

“y-you… you really like me? for real?”

when you release him, his bewildered expression makes you instantly erupt into a fit of laughter. he seems to take this as an indication that you’re messing him because of the way lips return into a point.

“are you kidding?” you scoffed playfully, grabbing his face and cradling it with both hands, his soft skin against yours. “you make it ridiculously easy to.”

“a-are you serious?” he pointed to himself, lashes batting innocently. “you really like me? me? heeseung? you like lee heeseung? you know i’m heeseung, right?”

you stare, astounded by his reaction. “you’re crazy.”

“no, i just told you i’m heeseung,” he deadpanned.

idiot. “yes, heeseung. you. i like you like crazy. it’s sickening how much i do.”

heeseung watched you expressionless for a moment before you watched his face explode with sunshine. speckles of gold dust returned to his eyes and twinkled like constellations. his smile swept his face and instantly made your heart thump out your ears.

“you’re not lying, right? you really like me? and it’s definitely because of my bowties, right?”

you almost wanted to groan aloud and slap yourself in the face, but you stifled down this desire and shook your head instead. sickening, you thought to yourself. his sunshine is so sickeningly sweet.

and if there’s one thing about you — it’s that you have a sweet tooth; and heeseung is a taste you have been dying to have.

“yes. it’s definitely the bowties. they’re basically chick magnets,” you remarked, a smirk forming. “do you know what happens to chick magnets?”

heeseung quickly shook his head.

you smiled. “they get devoured.”

heeseung’s brows slightly furrowed, his head tilted to the side in what appeared to be confusion. he blinked, not quite understanding your implication.

“in other words, i’m going to kiss you.”

that, he understood.

heeseung’s eyes instantly rounded like saucers. “h-huh?”

“i know you heard me,” you took a step toward him, circling your arms around the back of his neck to ring him in close. he blushed at the proximity, and if you were being honest, so did you.

frankly, you were more nervous than you’d thought you would be. this was the fastest and hardest you’d ever felt your heart beat; it almost threatened to leap up through your throat.

perhaps it was because heeseung was an expert at annihilating everything you thought you knew about yourself. he was great at that: showing you that you were much further from who you thought you were, and close to who you thought you could never be. there were no more first, second, third, and fourth experiences anymore. just a life before him and after him.

when you felt his breath nearing and the heat from his chest, you thought your head spun for a moment. it felt as though the distance between your lips were simultaneously the closest and farthest distances apart. it wasn’t until he sighed – a release of just the faintest, softest breath — that the sound swept through your chest like a hurricane, and you felt everything within you topple over.

your whole body sank forward into his and you kissed him. you shut your eyes and did what you feared most — you opened up your heart to him and let everything you had within you flow out so that he could feel every inch of your warmth and sincerity. you led the movement first, noticing the way he tried to mimic your movements. he was slow and uncertain at first, until he followed through with what felt right.

when he began to kiss you back, it felt like fireworks shattered within you. you instantly softened when he looped his arms around your waist and hugged you tightly, because there was no safer feeling than being in his arms.

you knew it.

heeseung is good at everything he tries.

when the kiss deepened, you thought he tasted like he fell from the clouds and the stars. like stardust and eternity and endlessness. you liked the taste of that. all you’ve ever known are temporary people, the leaving and the waiting and the hoping, so it makes all the more sense when you crumble and melt at the taste of forever and focus on carving this memory onto your soul.

you couldn’t deny it any further — you were falling in love with him. in fact, you’d fallen down a slippery slope that led you into a pit with no way of crawling yourself out.

when your lips pull away, you’re both panting for a proper breath. it isn’t until your eyes meet that the world stops moving and something warm ignites like a candle.

you allowed time to pass you by as your eyes raked every feature of his face; drinking in his beauty, indulging in the rare moment you were able to admire him so closely. you felt bewitched by the way the sunlight gently radiated his features; they shone through the sky and struck him like a spotlight, even in broad daylight. being this close to him brought forward all of his prettiest, most finely drawn features – the mole on the left side of his lips, his long, wispy lashes, and the slight scrunch of his brows.

you should’ve stopped, but you couldn’t, because he was prettier the longer you stared.

time slowed while you were slipping further and further into an enchanting spell.

falling.

you always hated that — the sensation of falling. being out of control; being helpless. but somehow, with heeseung it felt different — you were falling through time and space and the stars and the sky and everything in between. it was really beautiful.

you’ve been falling for days and weeks and what felt like lifetime across lifetimes. you fell until it no longer felt like falling, but flying.

“heeseung, you’re really bad at kissing, you know that?”

you felt so bad when his entire face fell and he looked at you with complete horror. “wh-what?”

you placed a finger on his lips to keep him from talking. “since you’re so bad, i think you need a few more lessons,” you smiled. “let’s ditch school and go to back to mine. you know, for education’s sake.” you winked.

heeseung tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, smiling shyly. “o-okay.”

fin.

a/n: and then they went home and watched Star Wars :) ANYWAYS. guys u do not understand I actually went thru 32842378 cycles of frustration, anger, and giddiness while trying to wrap this series up. I'm not lying when I say I have about 6 different versions of this chapter, but I decided to keep it simple and straight to the point because ultimately that's what I felt triage was all about :) if you came here looking for genuine dating tips& got lost im sorry i can’t help u cos I'm in my healing era (subtext: literally no man wants me). but anyways I hope this series brought you a little bit of joy somehow or another. I honestly had the best time writing it ^^ all the best! hope i to see u in my future works too! thanks for reading! love u so much! <3 (also feedback would be vv nice if u have the time!) MWAH

#tags rb 🕺

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jayflrt · 3 years ago

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omg i love the cute ask game ur doing rn & the little bits of writing you’ve come up w so far!! esp i know what u did last winter um HELLO?? i need to know more 👁👁

but for the game maybe: “in your arms” “the undoing of (member)” “sorrow and serenity” and “match made in hell”

these are SO corny 💀 but i feel like you’ll find a way to make them wayyy better than their titles make them seem

AHHH HI THENA YOURE BACK 💖 omg i was thinking of a angst for that one originally and then it turned into horror 😭 but omg thank you for sending in titles ♡ LMAOFJF NO THEYRE NOT CORNY I LIKE THEM

in your arms

the sweet dreams club offers you a 70% discount for your first punch card for their services, consisting of 15 “punches” to represent 15 nights with your designated “cuddle buddy.”

insomnia-ridden you finally reaches their limit and decides to take up the offer, but your “cuddle buddy” is no other than it-boy jake sim from your university. jake needs money and you need sleep, so you both agree to the arrangement, and it’s surprising how you’re able to sleep so much better in jake’s arms.

in your arms (i feel like i’ve made a home)

the undoing of park sunghoon

you can’t crack sunghoon open. he’s far too impassive and reserved when it comes to you, and you assume this is because he hates you, but the reality is that sunghoon doesn’t know how to act in front of you, especially when you’re wearing that cherry-scented lip balm.

he realizes the smell of artificial cherries will be his undoing.

sorrow and serenity

heeseung thinks he’s hit rock bottom; he’s dropped out of college, he’s gotten fired from his job, and he never got accepted for housing next year.

so, heeseung does the rational thing that one does when they’re experiencing a quarter life crisis, and he moves to another country to start his life up again.

there, he meets you, who flips his whole life around so effortlessly.

match made in hell

you and park jongseong are definitely not fated to be, despite the matchmaking services (courtesy of cupid) saying otherwise.

for starters, he’s a demon and you’re an angel, so this is definitely not working out.

#💌 : jayflrt love notes #soobisms #thena 🕊#ask games #just realized this is all hyung line 🗿

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seungstarss · 3 years ago

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SEI'S GRAPHIC SHOP ☆ ORDER COMPLETE

athena hi!! This took forever and I'm so thankful for your patience and also letting me read your fic beforehand 🤩 girlll I'm so honored bc it was so good. You've already heard my gushing so I will say no more hehe,,, but anyways, I hope you like these banners bc I think outta the ones I've made recently, I really like how these (especially the 1st) turned out ♡

@soobisms

FIRST

SECOND

៚ let me know if there are any changes needed! Please don't hesitate to lmk❗

#៚ sei's graphic requests 𐚱 #athena ☆#soobisms asks ♡#mutuals ଘ(੭˃ᴗ˂)੭

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odxrilove · 10 months ago

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☆ MINGYU BOYFRIEND TEXTS

pairing: mingyu x f!reader

warnings: established relationship, cursing, hoshi cameo? pregnancy mention (pic 9), angst (pic 5+6)

a/n: this is a small gift for my baby seiu @atrirose because ik how much she loves (is obsessed w) her bf mingyu and because she's going through exams rn ^^ goodluck baby and i love you (≧◡≦) ♡

back to masterlist!

taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @lolalee24 @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @yoonzin0 @raevyng @hoeforcheol @pearlygraysky @4xiaojun @viscade @kikohao @enluv @smilehui @amxlia-stars

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

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heerecs · 3 years ago

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cough cough.

it's been so long since i read a long fic and gave a review for it. i try to make it a habit to give reviews for fics i read

so without further ado, here is yours!

first of all, some empty notes from me bc wow:

SCREAMS. this was honestly an amazing read. yk I already told you this but I don't actively seek out action. like it's not something I'll see and want to read. BUT I enjoyed this. and at some points I had to stop and go, "this was so cute but I would never do this irl"

what I liked about this fic

how dumb yn was. lol jk. i mean they were kinda gullible but yk those typa people that they just get away with things bc they're cool? yeah. absolute chaos. the way they reacted w the kiss thing and jay and everything and WAHHH

then a separate place for my two favs sunwoo and riki!! wanna fist bump them fr. sunwoo was so dramatic and some of the things he said made me laugh A LOT. then riki? that man needed to rethink his life bc he things that were just coming out of his mouth were just making me go, "is this dude okay?"

when he failed his test but he was still happy about that 😭 I ain't never met someone so weird bc what was that treachery 😭😭 send him somewhere and make him sit up. the way he was overjoyed when jungwon was literally suffering?? hilarous.

sunwoo's sister aka miss winter was so cool

I may use cool a lot but that's bc my vocab is cool.

then karina? SLAYYYYYYYYYY

jake's appearance was wonderful. 10/10

then heeseung. HEAR ME OUT. actually nah, he was pretty bad. well I wouldn't say bad. just that he had no morals.

and then only the best for MR JAY PARK. wow so hot of you sir. don't be a biker irl bc of the consequences but that was so dangerous and hot of you sir.

"my lucky charm" MY LUCKY CHARM. . no bc that part made me stop and start giggling. like lucky charm. yn marinette era.

your description is wonderful and your writing skills are superb. this has to be a top fic for me now. i enjoyed it a lot

things I didn't really like. (I liked everything still! they all added to the uniqueness of the plot!)

yn. help but my bro you don't let someone kiss you on the first day. or let them know you addy no matter how fine they may be!! even if they call you lucky charm still noo!!!!!!! you are in college. use your brain! what if they kidnapped you? good thing jay was cool and nice.

jay. Mr sir you don't kiss someone you just met. lucky charm or not but still.. twirls hair. those scenes did something frfr made me smile

heeseung. BOY YOU BETTER GO AWAY. THAT"S WHY YOU DIDN"T CARRY FIRST RUBBISH BOY NONSENSE CHEAT

closing remark // summary

you guys should read it if you love action and I promise that the romance is worth it like I mean it. like guys, yes. this fic yes. and jay?? you know it's yes.

good job athena!!

death valley — jay park

synopsis. death valley—the heart of southern Seoul’s street racing scene. it’s filled to the brim with drug dealings, murder, and very, very hot people. at least, that’s all what you’d thought, until you’d stumbled across the valley yourself one friday afternoon. that day, filled with anticipation and fear, a certain biker named Jay—and his trailing crew—taught you that death valley wasn’t as half bad as you’d initially thought.

pairing(s). biker/racer!park jongseong x gender-neutral!reader ft. enhypen, winter x karina (aespa), & taehyun (txt)!

genre(s). action, fluff, humour, romance, street racing au, (implied) uni au.

warnings. alcohol consumption, food consumption & mentions, illegal gambling, illegal/street racing, mentions of drugs, profanity, reader gets slightly inebriated but not quite drunk, and suggestive dialogue. rated PG 15.

word count. 19.5k (19505) ik this is scary but BEAR w me!!

taglist. @soobin-chois @hyuckworld @soobverse @svnoofy @my5colors please fill out this form (or send me an ask w your groups) to be added to my permanent taglist!!

listen to! spotify link OR death valley, fallout boy ⭑ roots, imagine dragons ⭑ back door, stray kids ⭑ jopping, superm ⭑ all in, stray kids ⭑ vroom vroom, charli xcx ⭑ zombie pop, DPR IAN ⭑ desire, ATEEZ (it sucks ik 😭 i’ll edit it as soon as i have time)

notes. ik this is late (by ONE day or u can simply reverse ur clocks 💆‍♀️💆‍♀️) but she’s a bit massive ngl 😭 don’t think dirty i didn’t even remember her being this long (i thought she was 15k MAX) but she’s a whole wopping 19.5k!!!! almost 20k!!! that’s insane! but don’t let the word count scare you 😭 i promise biker!jay is worth it kfsdkfjska and you will love him in this. just trust me!

other, more practical notes to include that pertain to the plot: 1. pls don’t do anything reader does in this fic i BEG 🙏🙏🙏reader is v head empty & has the power of Fanfiction & Main Character Syndrome on their side. pls do not attempt anything in this fic. stay away from strange men in leather in fact!

2. reader is heavily implied to be queer and easily attracted to different ppl 😭 so reader is gonna FLIRT (or at least try to)

3. i don’t condone heeseung’s behaviour AT ALL. he is despicable and downright evil. i just wanted to have a “Bad” character to balance things out.

and that’s it!! i’ve rambled too much & you probably want to get ahead to reading the fic so i won’t stop you! enjoy!! ♡♡ feedback & reblogs are welcome and appreciated!

I – Death Valley Bad

Death Valley was the heart and soul of southern Seoul’s racing scene.

Every Saturday night, there were two main races held there. One held for the bikers and the other held for the drivers. Usually, people attended the bikers’ race. It was cheaper to bet on a biker, there was less exhaust in the air to tire out everyone’s lungs, and its tracks were only a walking distance from the abandoned subway station—which just so happened to be the best hiding location in case the police caught wind of a night’s events. Those who managed to get past the fear of being arrested and crossed the kilometres to the racers’ track either never returned to the bikers’ track or came back but never spoke of what they’d seen. Also, the cars apparently carried cocaine, and the drivers would kill without a second thought if someone tried to steal some.

At least, that’s what you’d heard when you’d moved to Seoul.

Lee Heeseung, the cute little brunet who’d been showing you around your university, had made sure to let you know of the famous valley. His eyes had been wide, and he’d been making crazy hand gestures, but you’d still got the point.

Death Valley bad.

So, why on Earth were you in the infamous valley? That’s what you’d been wondering for the past couple of minutes, on a good ol’ Friday afternoon.

Keep reading

#m:jay #f:enhypen #g:action #soobisms

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jaeyunverse · 1 year ago

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into the fandomverse | an enhypen collab call

welcome to into the fandomverse, a collaboration project for all engenes who enjoy writing on tumblr. i recently hit 3k followers and am hosting this event in celebration of said milestone. all details about the collab are under the cut. i hope you consider joining and spread the word so that your friends can join too :’)

collab masterlist

𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗠𝗘:

the general theme of the collab is that your fic should be set up in an alternate universe that already exists in a movie, show, book, game, comic, kdrama or anime. for example: harry potter x enhypen, haikyuu x enhypen, shadowhunters x enhypen etc. it really doesn’t matter what crossover or universe you choose as long as it is not problematic :)

𝗥𝗨𝗟𝗘𝗦:

there are 21 slots in total i.e three for each member.

slots will be given on a first come, first serve basis so that the allotment is fair.

explicit smut is NOT allowed. implied smut is permitted ONLY for the HYUNG LINE—it goes without saying that you must be an adult if you wish to include anything nsfw in your submission.

member x reader and member x oc are the only pairings allowed. no member x member fics! remember to be inclusive of all races and body types if you are writing a x reader fic.

appearances of members other than the one you have chosen are allowed, but please make sure that the main focus of the fic is your chosen member!

your fic can include sensitive subjects as long as they are not romanticized, portrayed in bad light or represented incorrectly. also, please make sure to put proper trigger warnings above the read more cut once you post your fic.

no racism, ableism, homophobia or similar prejudices. you will be removed from the collab if you are found guilty of harboring them.

the code word is fandom. please mention it while applying for a spot so that i know you have gone through the rules.

the minimum word count is 1k. there is no maximum word count so feel free to let your imagination run free. please note that drabbles, blurbs, reactions, headcanons, series, smaus and timestamps will not be accepted. oneshots only!

plagiarism is strictly prohibited.

be respectful and kind to the other members who are a part of the collab. no hate will be tolerated.

this is not a rule but it would be nice if you had a discord account. i have made a server for easy communication and interaction between the collab members. it’s okay if you do not have an account!! i will update you through tumblr dms :’)

if you have any further queries, don't hesitate to dm me <3

𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗢 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗟𝗬:

applications will be accepted through tumblr asks.

make sure to include your chosen member + fandom + the code word hidden in this post while sending in your application.

after your application has been accepted, please reblog this post to spread the message :D

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦/𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗪𝗔𝗟𝗦:

the tentative deadline for posting your entry for the collab is 30th september, 2024.

the deadline is mostly for namesake and you are free to post your submission whenever you want, but please do not take undue advantage of the time flexibility.

i understand if you want to withdraw your application from the collab but please think carefully before applying.

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HEESEUNG: @hanverse (twd) | @flwrshee (25/21) | @boyfhee (extraordinary you) | @tarcherz (ever after high)

JAY: @soobisms (saiki k.) | @junityy (before sunrise) | @lheewonz (demon slayer) | @4xiaojun (maid sama!)

JAKE: @geombyu (fire force) | @hsgwrld (business proposal) | @notthatsamkim (cinderella) | @haesbit (kim possible)

SUNGHOON: @seongclb (hp) | @soobnny (aouad) | @ijhyo (enola holmes) | @hoondrive (spiderman)

SUNOO: @invvuu (tbhk) | @redm4ri (stargirl) | @sunny-reis (the girl who fell beneath the sea) | @enheaven (vampire academy)

JUNGWON: @yjwfav (jjk) | @haknom (see you in my 19th life) | @misojunnie (10 things i hate about you) | @jaeminri (summer strike)

RIKI: @jaeyunverse (spiderman) | @cinnajun (pjo) | @jennaissantes (our beloved summer) | @tyunni (13 going on 30)

237 notes · View notes

ijhyo · 2 years ago

Text

CHAPTER 4

what was supposed to be a fun weekend away with friends turns into a sinister game of hide and seek where their lives are on the line. trapped in a lake house cabin with only six hours on the clock, can y/n figure out who is behind the mask and manage not to get caught all before sunrise?

PAIRING. soobin x gn reader ; beomgyu x gn reader ; yeonjun x gn reader

GENRE. college au ; mystery ; thriller ; escape room ; angst ; horror ; humour

WARNINGS. character deaths (quick, act surprised) ; injuries ; blood ; swearing ; stabbing ; guns

WORD COUNT. 7k

A/N. FINALLY! she is here! after 300 years the final installment of the here i come series is out GOD BLESS. never have i been so happy to finish something in my life. very big thank you to everyone who continued showing interest in this fic even though this chapter took forever, this is truly for u I LOVE YALL! some of u have kind of guessed the killers so kudos to you, big brained people. i cant think of anything else to say just here you go, thank u, enjoy!!

TAGLIST. @tsupuffs @ren-chib @yjwfav @mykalon @junityy @iyeonjuni @fallingforhoon @fairybinie @enhacolor @cheorei @jjhmk @acciomylove @yeonjunsgf777 @soobin-chois @chosoluvr @odxrilove @soobisms @strawbrinkofdeath @etherealcherrie @maemarahuya @1-800-ryujin @wisecheesecakecloud @fairyofshampgyu @i-haewon @cottontvil @minthicons @bettyschwallocksyee @glyxiebear @calumsfringe @luvrboygyu @clyspm @celestialgyu @fallingforya @gyumie @ihsmarat @wooseoft @tatansoobin @wccycc @hello0i @prodsputnik @yotser @yhawnnzz @najaemin138 @ljnfav

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When you come to, you are laying in a bed, an overhead light shines glaring harshly in your eyes. You blink blearily, trying to get used to the brightness of the room and getting your vision to focus.

Movement catches your attention at the foot of your bed. You see Lia moving around the room, picking up your dirty clothes to do the laundry because you always forget to put them away, humming under her breath as she works.

Saturday was always laundry day.

After you got out of bed, you would be the one to take out the trash and go shopping for any groceries you needed. By the time you’d get back, Lia would have already finished with lunch.

You’d watch a movie or two, maybe play a game if you could convince your roommate, and order take out for dinner.

Right about now, she would tsk her tongue and throw a dirty shirt at you, telling you that you need to start cleaning up for yourself. You’d roll your eyes fondly and promise to be neater. Lia would accept it even though she doesn’t believe you and the process would be repeated all over again the next week.

You wait for the shirt to hit your face. It never comes.

Instead, the illusion is shattered when your eyes finally focus on the person you saw and see that their back is way too broad to be your friend’s and that, looking around curiously, this was not your apartment.

Everything comes rushing back then.

The game. The killers. Lia.

You’re laying down comfortably but you feel dizzy. Raising a hand to your head, you feel cotten where your temple should be and find that pressure causes a sharp sting to shoot up to your forehead. You let out a low curse at the pain and the other person finally takes notice of you.

He moves to your side, relief written on his face. “Oh, you’re awake, thank God.” You try to place the boy in your memory but draw a blank. “You passed out sometime between the lake and here and didn’t wake up for half an hour. I was starting to get worried.”

Yeonjun, your brain supplies when all the recent events catch up to you.

Now that you could see his face illuminated properly, pretty seems like an understatement. His dark hair is pushed back, revealing his forehead and you didn’t think that could be attractive, but here you are.

Yeonjun is still watching you. You clear your throat. “Um, thanks. For helping me.”

“You’re welcome,” he says smiling. “You looked like you needed it.” You suppress a scoff. If only he knew. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

His sudden question snaps you back. He has his hand up in your direct line of vision. “What?”

“I’m checking if you have a concussion. I dressed your wounds as best I could with zero first aid training but I need to make sure you won’t pass out again on me.”

His fingers are really pretty. You blink. “Oh. Three.”

Yeonjun smiles, satisfied. “Okay. Good, that’s good.”

He walks around the bed and disappears behind through a door. You use this opportunity to look around the room Yeonjun put you in, not finding it familiar at all.

Knowing that it is not far from Soobin’s lake house, you think that this house must be on the same level of extravagance, or at least close to it, but this room gives no indication of that. It’s smaller than the bedroom you were going to spend the night in before but still larger than the one in your apartment.

There is indications of use around; a t-shirt hanging on the back of a chair; shoes spilling out of the closet; and the faint smell of cologne lingers in the air. It all seems so boy that the only conclusion you draw is that this is Yeonjun’s room.

The boy in your returns with a glass of water that you accept gratefully. You hadn’t realised how thirsty you were until you downed the drink in seemingly one gulp. Yeonjun watches amusedly as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and you feel your face heat.

“Where are we?” You ask, holding the glass in your hands.

Yeonjun looks around the room in thought, humming. “About ten minutes away from where I found you.”

“Do you live here?”

“Nah,” he denies easily, taking a seat ay the foot of the bed, being careful to avoid touching your legs, “I’m just house sitting. The family that lives here is away at their other vacation house. In Japan.”

At your stunned look (you’re pretty sure that your mouth is open wide), Yeonjun nods hugely. “I know. Rich people, am I right?”

You scoff. “You could say that.”

It goes quiet. Yeonjun watches you curiously, his heavy gaze makes you avert your eyes to the glass in your hold. You clear your throat. “Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

He winces. “Can I?”

You shrug, feigning nonchalance, before launching into your recount of the night’s events. You watch his face as it goes from curious to shocked before finally settling on what is a mixture of disbelief and disgust.

Which, sums it up pretty nicely.

“That’s…Fuck, I-I don’t even know what to say. Who would do that?”

It feels oddly reassuring hearing this surprise from someone who has zero knowledge of the fucked up party you were just at. You inhale sharply. “Don’t know yet. But I’m gonna find out.” And you were. You couldn’t sit here forever.

“And the rest of your friends? You said you think they’re…” Dead. The word hangs between the two of you, too scared to be spoken aloud for fear they might be true.

“Well,” you start decisively, “they might not be.” With that, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, holding back a cry at the pain that erupts from the sudden movement.

Yeonjun’s hands shoot out to steady you, eyebrows creased with worry. “Woah! What are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” you grit out, pushing off the taller boy.

“You’re quite literally not. You might not have a concussion but fuck, Y/N, you’ve been stabbed. You can’t go out there. You need rest.”

Continuing out of the bedroom, you find yourself in an enormous foyer, almost as grand as the Choi family’s. “I need to make sure my friends are okay. I need to make those bastards pay.”

Your path is blocked by a very tall wall standing in your way. You roll your eyes, knowing that he used the fact that he doesn’t need to limp to pass you. “And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” Yeonjun stands defiantly, arms crossed and displeasure clear in the hard set of his jaw. You are getting quite sick of boys telling you no.

You stop in your tracks, thinking.

Then, “Do you have any knives?”

2 HOURS LEFT

The trek up the hill is hard with your injuries and takes longer than it should have had you been in full strength. The ground is soft beneath your feet, gives way every few feet and you have to readjust yourself carefully to avoid slipping.

A knife, so graciously given to you by Yeonjun, is hidden under your shirt. You walk in a way that it won’t accidentally nick your side. It feels awkward but it works.

Nearing the house, light spills out into the night, the grand chandelier still on. It is jarring almost, how the trees go from being cloaked in darkness to being bathed in bright light.

The front door is deserted.

You feel the warmth from the fireplace rather than see it, noting how it is still on, despite everything. That someone was stoking it.

You enter cautiously. Hand hovering over where the knife is, you stalk your way back into the kitchen and the sight of your altercation with the seeker leaves a sour taste in your mouth. The kettle remains strewn across the floor, a puddle of water mixed with blood spilled across the wooden floor.

Heart hammering loudly in your chest, you approach the door to the wine cellar, hand clutched to your waist. You know there is a possibility that the seeker could be there, could jump out and surprise you at any moment, but now that you have your own weapon to defend yourself, you wouldn’t let that fear stop you from finding Lia.

A crash.

Your head whips around frantically at the sound. Straining your ears, you listen carefully for any indication of where the noise came from. Quietly, you duck behind the kitchen island into a crawl. The knife nicks digs into your stomach but you ignore it, focusing on controlling your breathing so as to not bring attention to your location.

There is a slam as something collapses against the ground.

“Get away from me!”

Your heart stutters.

Soobin.

The sound of heavy footsteps gets louder with every passing second as someone walks closer to your hiding spot. Peaking your head around the side of the island, you try to get a glimpse of who it is, but the wall of the kitchen obscures your view. Clenching your teeth, you steel yourself to take the risk and reveal yourself to see who it is.

Slowly moving from your crouched position, you rise to your feet and are greeted by the back of the boy you have liked for two years, the boy who went through all this trouble just to try and create a night you’d enjoy.

“Soobin.” Your voice cracks around his name. Tears well in your eyes and threaten to spill.

He turns and your heart soars. “Y/N?” Relief washes over his features as he takes you in. He barely gives you time to respond before he crosses over to you and engulfs you in a massive hug.

Immediately, your shoulders relax and all the tension in your body melts away when his arms wrap around you. “Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so glad you’re okay. I was so worried, you just disappeared and I couldnʼt find and there was blood everywhere I, I thought—”

Pulling back slightly, you press a gentle hand to his face to stop his rambling. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” His eyes search yours and he nods numbly, bringing a hand to cover yours.

Soobin laughs mirthlessly. “Some game night, huh?”

Your chuckle comes out wet. “Not exactly what I had in mind, no.” You chance a look over his shoulder, expecting to see one of the seekers pop out and ruin the moment. Focusing your gaze back on Soobin, you graze your eyes over his face, going through a mental checklist of injuries. There’s a cut above his eye and dried blood crusts his cheek. Aside from that and a split lip, he’s fine. You exhale in relief. “They didn’t get you,” you breathe, more of a statement than a question.

He’s in front of you, face beneath your fingers, real and alive.

Soobin nods once. “They tried to, but I got away in time.”

“That’s good. Have you seen Beomgyu? Lia?”

“No, I’m sorry,” he admits solemnly and you feel your heart constrict. That doesn’t mean anything, you remind yourself, stopping yourself from thinking the worst. He must read your mind because his eyes rove over your face and he kisses his teeth. “Y/N…” he warns carefully, but your mind is up.

You tell him as much, but he’s still against it. “You don’t have to do anything, Y/N. The doors are open–we could leave! Get out of here right now.”

While what he is saying sounds appealing, there is nothing more that you want than to get as far away from this house as possible, you couldn’t—wouldn’t—do that without your friends. “I came back here because I couldnʼt leave you guys. I found you and I’m not leaving until I find the others. I’m not leaving without them.”

There is a possibility that you are in over your head. That even if you did manage to get past the seekers, the chances of you finding your friends alive was slim. You know that’s what Soobin is thinking, that he’s just trying to be rational. You expect him to argue, but instead he just sighs. Glances up at the ceiling. Locks eyes with you again.

“Okay.” Even though he agrees, you can tell he’s still apprehensive. “But I’m going with you.”

You nod, offering him a grateful smile that he returns. Your mind flits through the faces of the other people who were at the party, a drop in your stomach when you remember all the people who died. “What about the others? Yunho and Wooyoung?”

At the mention of their names, Soobin’s eyes darken and his jaw sets.

Cocking your head to the side, you ask, “What is it?”

It takes him a moment to respond, a myriad of emotions passing on his face as he considers whether to tell you whatever it is or not. He comes to a decision when he inhales sharply and pinches the bridge of his nose. You watch him curiously. “They…fuck. They’re the seekers, Y/N.”

You blink owlishly. “What?” you question, barely above a whisper. There’s no way. It can’t be. You saw them, you, you played with them, you might have even gone as far to say you could have become friends. They couldn’t have…

But Soobin’s mouth is set in a hard line and suddenly the room seems too small. “But how could they…in the screening room, they were with you. How could they…?” You can’t get the question out but Soobin understands anyway.

His face softens as she shakes his head. “They joined us later, before I found you. And then, after you left, so did Yunho. He came back as the seeker and killed Jongho right in front of us, and we all ran. I saw Sumin’s body at the top of the stairs and I was just attacked. It’s them. They’re behind all of this.”

You feel sick. Bile creeps up your throat and threatens to spill out, but you swallow it down.

Shutting your eyes tight, you exhale shakily. It didn’t matter. It didn’t change the fact that your best friend was missing.

Squaring your shoulders back, you lock eyes with Soobin.

“I’m getting Lia back. And those bastards are gonna pay.”

His eyes widen in shock at your concoction but he recovers quickly. Nodding once, he grabs one of your hands and leads you out to the living room where the couches have been turned over and the coffee table lies on the carpeted floor in pieces, splinters of wood littering the ground.

You chance a glance at Soobin. He really put up a fight, huh?

“How are your parents going to feel about you trashing their house?” you ask, going for a joke.

He responds with a cheeky grin. “Great, if I never tell them. I’m sure I can convince them to spend a couple winters in Jeju and they’ll be none the wiser.”

Whether or not he’s kidding, you can’t tell. The thought of his family owning yet another holiday home—in Jeju no less—is…strange. You think that if you try to comprehend just how rich Soobin is, steam would start coming out of your head. You personally had never travelled further than the places you’ve lived, let alone had houses purely for the purpose of visiting during specific seasons.

But this must be normal for him as he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. Okay. Cool. You’re just going to assume that Soobin has a house in every major city of Korea at this point.

The two of you barely make it past the staircase, past Isa’s lifeless body that has since turned a ghostly pale yellow, when a voice yells from behind you, thick with malice and so raspy it sounds as though it ripped through their throat, “Soobin!”

Simultaneously, you and the boy in question’s heads turn, hands still clasped together, and come face to face with the seekers. Masks still donned with the same cloak they’ve been wearing all night, you wonder who is who.

One of them steps towards the two of you, and you surprise yourself by planting your feet firmly in place. “Soobin,” he says and with a chill down your spine, you find that it is, in fact, Yunho, his voice familiar to you after all this time. Why he’s decided to ditch the voice modulator, you don’t know. Your eyes narrow.

Next to him, Wooyoung practically seethes. Closing the distance between you, he stalks over, knife brandished like a sword, crying, “We’re going to fucking kill you—!”

BANG!

Wooyoung stops in his tracks. His head drops to the center of his chest where you notice a pool of red spilling through the cloak and spreading outward. At the same time he drops the floor to his knees, you turn to look at Soobin. With a gun in his hands.

ONE HOUR LEFT

Soobin gives you a sidelong glance out of the corner of his eye. “Make them pay, right?”

You swallow, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. Right? That is what you said, this is what you wanted, but—fuck. He has a gun? Has he had one this entire time? He knows how to fire one? The knife pressed against your stomach burns against your skin.

Soobin doesn’t acknowledge your apparent discomfort, he doesn’t even look at you. Instead he watches Wooyoung clutch his chest desperately, blood seeping through his fingers. Watches Yunho rush to his friend’s side, distressed as he yanks off the mask from his face. Watches as his friend’s name falls from his lips in between a string of “no, no, no, no”s that sound something between a plea and a prayer.

He watches all of this impassively. His face barely twitches. He looks almost bored.

In the past night you have seen more people die and be killed than you would care to count, and yet, seeing the boy you’ve cared about for years put a bullet in someone so easily, without so much as a flinch, makes something ugly curl in your stomach.

Revenge is what you wanted, but something about this feels wrong.

Yunho crouches over Wooyoung and removes his friend’s face, brushing the shorter boy’s hair away from his forehead. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he repeats, a mantra as he rips off a piece of his cloak to press against the wound, over the sound of Wooyoung’s laboured wheezing. He turns to glare at the both of you, something heady and full of hatred. “What is wrong with you?” he cries out, voice thick with anguish.

You find yourself wanting to defend yourself, to tell him that you didn’t do anything, that you never knew Soobin would do that. But you stop when you remember that they hurt your friends, they hurt you; you have the wound on your your leg to prove it and—

Oh, god.

You’re going to be sick.

Masks thrown to the side on the bloodied floor, you can see their faces clearly. Soft light rises from outside as the sun makes its ascent over the horizon—Has it really been that long since this fucked up game started?—and casts a glow across their features. Their unmarred features.

You slammed a kettle of boiling across one of their seeker’s faces; you burned him. And yet, here they stand, skin as smooth as a baby.

Eyes blown wide, you exhale shakily, “It’s not them.”

“What are you talking about?” Soobin asks through a scoff. You take a step away from him, hands trembling at your side at your revelation.

“I-I hit one of them. Neither of them have any scars or anything. It’s not them. Soobin, they’re innocent.” He looks at you for the first time since firing his gun, one that is calculated, like he’s assessing you, and has his jaw clenching. He’s never looked at you like this before.

From the ground, Wooyoung laughs mirthlessly through gritted teeth, catching your attention. Blood spittles from his mouth and you wince. “You think this fucker doesn’t know that?”

Yunho nods in Soobin’s direction. “He’s the one who knocked us out and put us in these clothes to frame us and forced us to pretend to be seekers. He threatened to hurt that Beom—”

With a tired sigh, Soobin rolls his eyes and aims his gun at the two boys. “This is tedious.”

Two shots.

One through Yunho’s head and another to Wooyoung’s chest, right where his heart is.

The shots rings out in the expansive living room, reverberating in your ears. You think you flinch, but you can’t be sure. Not with how your body feels as though it’s been doused with cement. You can’t move.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?”

Your mind was spinning. Soobin just shot two people. Two innocent people. Two innocent people who just accused him of—oh, god, you can’t keep the bile down anymore.

You heave.

“Oh, don’t tell me you believe them. Those guys?” Soobin asks disbelievingly, waving the gun around like it’s like a toy and not a weapon that just killed two people.

“You shot them,” you say, arms shaking at your sides.

“Yeah. After they killed my friends.”

“I just told you they didn’t!” Your voice cracks around the last syllable and Soobin’s face softens. He takes a step towards you, arm reaching out for you, but you step back, putting as much distance between the two of you. “Don’t touch me.”

He tries to stop you by saying, “Hey, don’t be like that,” but you just shake your head, trying to wrap your head around the last few minutes, but you find that you can’t. Nothing makes sense.

Nothing about the boy you liked being a gun carrying murderer makes sense. Nothing about the weekend that was supposed to be a fun time with your friends turning into a bloodbath made sense. The whole situation was making your head and you were so tired.

You just wanted to leave and go home to your tiny apartment with your best friend and watch a movie and complain about your classes over beer. You wish Soobin never planned this stupid party in the first place.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

I planned this whole thing for you.

The room tilts, like the world has been shifted on its axis. Moments from the night start slotting together like puzzle pieces in your mind as you recall the way Soobin wanted you to hide together at beginning of the game, how he just so happened to find you after Sunghoon was killed, how even though he claims to have gotten into a fight with the seekers, he barely has a scratch on him.

How he killed Wooyoung and Yunho despite you telling him they weren’t the seekers.

That ugly thing in the pit of your stomach grows and spreads throughout your body wraps itself around your throat.

Tears prick your eyes, sick and disbelief clawing up your throat. “You…” The words lodge themselves under your tongue.

Soobin’s face morphs just then.

Gone is the look of boyish care you have grown so familiar with, that you have fallen in love with, and is overtaken by a smug, snakelike grin. The sight chills you.

He claps. Actually applauds as he looks at you with something akin to pride. “God, you’re so smart. I knew you’d get it, you know? I always believed in you,” he admits, awe lacing his voice. Checking his watch, he whistles. “And with forty-seven minutes to spare! Wow. Your intelligence is one of the things I like about you, you know?”

What the fuck was happening right now? Was he confessing to you? Right now?

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You were fucking timing me? Why the fuck would you do that?”

“For you, obviously.” He says it matter-of-factly and it gives you pause. “You know,” he starts, walking around the base of the stairs with the air of someone giving a seminar, “when I told the guys that I knew you’d figure it out, they didn’t believe me. I said ‘That Y/N? She’s smart, she loves riddles. She’ll put two and two together.’. But they were adamant that the stress of the situation would be too much for you to handle and you wouldn’t be able to think clearly, blah blah blah. Psych majors. You know how they are.” He says it like the two of you are in on a joke together.

You want to wring his neck.

“And I guess they were right, kind of, but you pulled through in the end. Just like I knew you would.” Soobin flashes you a smile that before tonight, would have left your knees weak, but now the sight just makes you angry.

The fact that he thinks you should be flattered that he apparently thinks highly of your deduction skills in a situation he orchestrated that ended with so many people dead makes you sick. He bet on you.

With the seekers, you think abruptly. It has to be.

Your mind works quickly, trying to figure out who they really are and you gasp at your revelation.

His smile widens and you have half a mind to punch it right off. “I think introductions are in order, don’t you?”

As though summoned, two dark figures walk towards the both of you from a secret door in the walls of the living room. The seekers. One of them pushes someone along roughly—Beomgyu, your brain supplies—, a knife pressed against his throat.

A wave of relief washes over you as you lock eyes. “Y/N,” he exhales, breathlessly, eyes raking over your body. “You’re okay.”

“So are you,” you nod, voice dripping with relief, then you wince. “All things considered.”

He chuckles at that. “I suppose it could be worse.”

“Shut up,” the seeker holding Beomgyu snaps, the same voice modulator that has been tormenting you for six hours crackles.

The other one regards you lowly, through the black eye holes of the mask they don. “Y/N!” they announce dramatically, but Soobin raises a hand to stop them.

“You can ditch the voice now, guys. She figured it out.”

“God dammit!” they curse, ripping the mask off in an angry huff. “I can never have any fun around here.”

Finally, the identities of the people who have made your night a living hell is revealed to you. The boys standing in front of you are two you have only seen in pictures, heard about through anecdotes, the who, up until six hours ago, you had so wanted to meet.

Taehyun and Kai. The fucking seekers.

“What the fuck?” Beomgyu curses incredulously, staring at the faces of boys he used to pass in the halls at school.

Earlier that last night Soobin had told you that his two best friends were away at a yacht party.

We were having so much fun but you just had to go and rock the boat!

Jesus Christ.

You hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now, it clicks in your mind perfectly. You barely hold back a scoff. What a terrible clue.

Kai’s mouth spreads snakily across his face, in an unnerving imitation of a smile. “Hey, Y/N. Nice to finally meet you.”

You snarl.

Off to the side, Soobin is practically vibrating in place, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a little kid. “You figured it out, right? I was worried that telling you about the yacht party was too much of a throwaway comment and then there was the issue of trying to find a way for Kai to slip in something about a water or a boat—Have to thank you, Beomgyu, for that stunt you pulled. Really appreciate it.”

Your childhood friend physically recoils at that. Taehyun grunts and presses the knife against his throat deeper. Beomgyu winces.

Shaking your head, you turn and confront Soobin. “So what was the point of all this? You guys killed all these people for what?” A tremor goes through your hands so you ball them into fists at your side.

Soobin cocks his head to the side innocently. “For you, Y/N. You love game nights. You love riddles and puzzles and mysteries, so I came up with the biggest one just for you.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Beomgyu exclaims. “You’re telling me that you did all of this, killed all of your fucking friends because you have a crush?”

Behind him, Taehyun shrugs noncommittally. “People who experience traumatic events together are inexplicably bonded for life.”

A beat.

“You were trying to fucking trauma bond with me?”

“You make it sound so simple,” he complains, waving the gun dismissively. “I made rules, people, there was structure. You know the order people died was the order they knew each other? Of course you did, you probably realised. But what you didn’t know is that Beomgyu—” he points the gun at him— “was supposed to go first. But you guys screwed it up! How the hell do you guys even know each other?”

“Your mom introduced us,” Beomgyu hisses defiantly. Blood trickles down his neck in response.

Soobin squints his eyes as if bored. “Real mature. Anyways, I saw you two talking in the kitchen at the beginning of the night so I had to do some emergency rearranging. So, in a way, Sunghoon dying first is kind of your fault. Granted, he would have died anyway, but, you know. Semantics.”

The same sweet boy who used to walk you to class and take you out for coffee after stressful exam weeks, the same boy who helped you out with homework and made you feel like the sun was bursting in your chest by smiling was the same one who hurt you, your friends. And he didn’t even feel an ounce of remorse for it.

“Fuck you,” you spit menacingly but you are just brushed off.

Soobin waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Plenty of time for that later. Now, we have to address the elephant in the room. The elephant, of course, being Beomgyu. Killing him now would mess up the order and I’m kind of a stickler for the—”

He doesn’t get to finish because out of the corner of your eye, Beomgyu elbows his captor in the stomach hard. Taehyun keels over, releasing him and you spur into action. Surprised, Kai takes a moment to recover before he is slashing at Beomgyu’s arm with his knife. Beomgyu hisses in pain, clutching his shoulder.

Rushing to Wooyoung’s body, pain flaring up your leg, you pry his knife from his fingers and say a silent apology in your head. “Beomgyu!” you yell. He turns to you and after a split second decision, you throw the knife in his direction.

Miraculously, he catches it by the hilt and, before you can blink, he’s lodged it in Kai’s throat.

The first seeker splutters, hands flying to press against the wound but it proves futile. Blood gushes from his neck like a burst pipe. Kai chokes as blood gets into his throat, coughing up red.

It’s a gruesome sight but it fills you with satisfaction, watching as he, too, succumbs to the same death he subjected your friends to.

Kai let's out a final wheeze before he falls to his knees, one arm reaching up to Beomgyu who watches on, face blank and chest heaving. Finally, Kai’s body goes limp and hits the floor with a thud.

“Well,” Soobin starts with a clap, turning to Taehyun, “guess I owe you that island.”

His friend grunts weakly, still recovering from Beomgyu’s assault. “You shouldn’t bet against me,” Taehyun admonishes when he rises to his full height.

Soobin nods sagely, chuckling. “I have learned my lesson.” Beomgyu steps back towards you and you reach for him instinctively. Soobin tracks the movement and something downright evil sparkles in his eyes. “Tell you what,” he says, addressing Taehyun, though his eyes never leave you and Beomgyu. “Do one more thing and I’ll throw in another.”

“An island?” you question incredulously. This was just getting ridiculous.

Taehyun shrugs. “It’s part of his inheritance. But now, it’ll be part of mine.” He stalks closer to the two of you causing you to back up to the stairs, nearly tripping over Isa’s body.

Knife pointed, he draws nearer menacingly. He’s after Beomgyu, you know. In some twisted form of logic you know that he won’t hurt you, not with Soobin right there.

Beomgyu tries to stand up straight but you can see the pain clear on his face as he clutches his injured arm. Taehyun grins at that, and lunges—

A wine bottle swings against his head from behind.

Taehyun’s body stills. He crumples to the floor in a heap of black fabric, head hitting the ground with a loud thud.

“Fuck rich people,” the assailant spits, chest heaving and your heart squeezes.

Lia.

She notices you and she lets the bottle drop from her grasp and the two run to embrace the other. All the tension you were holding in your shoulder eases, your body physically sagging against hers in relief.

You don’t even realise you are crying until damp spots start forming on her shoulder. Tears rack through your body at the feeling of your best friend in your arms, alive just like you believed she would be. Her grip around you tightens as she clutches the back of your shirt as though she fears you’ll disappear if she lets go.

“They attacked me in our room when I was grabbing my book, then tied me up and left me in the cellar. Told me that it wasn’t my turn yet. I tried to loosen them but whoever tied them used some kind of fucking boats knot. Broke one of the bottles and cut the rope with a glass shard—and my hand, too.”

It is her only injury, you note when the two of you finally pull apart. She has ripped off the left sleeve of her shirt and wrapped it around her hand as a makeshift gauze. It is stained with a giant blotch of blood but she’s alive.

She nods to Beomgyu appreciatively and he responds with a two finger wave. As she takes in the scene, all the blood and mess and bodies littering the floor, you see how her jaw tightens and eyes narrow. When they settle on Soobin, she spits in his face.

He recoils in disgust and wipes it away with—he’s got to be fucking kidding—a handkerchief from his pants pocket.

“You fucker,” Lia sneers.

He merely rolls his eyes. “Oh, great the band’s back together,” he drawls unenthusiastically. “There’s still twenty minutes left of the game, can we wrap this up?”

Aiming his gun between Lia and Beomgyu he pretends to ponder who he’s going to kill next. Lia stares him dead on, defiance dancing in her eyes and you have never been more in awe of your friend before.

“Y/N?”

Everybody’s heads whip around to the front door where Yeonjun stands in the threshold, confusion dancing in his eyes as he takes in the scene.

He came.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Soobin exclaims haughtily, arms going up in annoyance. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

“The guy who called the cops,” he reveals, jutting out his chin as he walks towards you. “They’re on their way.” The last part is directed more to you than Soobin and you have never been more grateful to see a boy you just met.

“Good,” you say nodding, eyes narrowed as you stare down the boy you used to look at only in administration, “you’ll be dead before they get here.”

Soobin has the nerve to gasp in faux shock, clutching at his heart as though you’ve wounded him. “Okay, ouch. That’s hurtful, babe, how could you say that?”

“You tried to kill me. You made me think my best friend was dead.”

He holds up a finger to stop you and you have half a mind to slice it off. “Point of correction: I never tried to kill you. I would never hurt you, Y/N. I did all of this for you! I ruined my favourite holiday house for you! Now I’m stuck with Jeju and fuckass Tokyo. Do you realise how much I’m giving up for you here and you think I’m the bad guy?”

“You’re insane,” you say incredulously.

“Insane for you.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Oh, come on.” He sounds like a petulant child. Which, you suppose, is exactly what he is. “I killed for you! You think, what, fucking Beomgyu can say that? You think you’d be happy with some asshole from across the lake with a terrible dye job? No way, baby! I’m it!” By the time his spiel is over, his arms are outstretched on either side of him, chest heaving like he’s just ran a marathon.

Lia grimaces. “Did you just fucking quote Gone Girl?”

“Ben Afleck rents out his L.A. house to us, of course I did.”

“What the fuck, man?” Beomgyu expresses, face pinched.

“And this isn’t a dye job, dickwad, this is literally my hair.”

Your best friend turns to Yeonjun and stares like he’s an idiot. “Time and place, dude.”

“Y/N. Baby.” You feel yourself cringe at the pet name. He holds out his hands and takes a step towards you. “You can’t tell me you don’t want this.” Soobin’s voice takes on a sickly sweet lilt, one that would have had you melting if you didn’t find out he was a psychopath.

Thinking about your friends, a wave of protectiveness and a pang of guilt pass through you. They’re here because of you.

With determination coursing through your veins, you step forward. “You’re right.” Behind you, your friends all verbally express their shock. You ignore them. “This is what I want.”

Soobin’s smile drops into an ‘o’ shape as he inhales sharply. When he glances down at the space between the two of you, he is greeted with the sight of a knife—Yeonjun’s knife—sticking out his abdomen.

“Huh,” is the last thing he says to you.

“Go to hell,” is the last thing you say to him.

Hand still on the hilt, you withdraw the knife only to stab him again. And again, and again, and again.

Over and over until you lose count, you plunge the knife into his body, piercing his skin. Blood splatters all over your face and front but you don’t care. You are moving on pure rage at this point. Rage at this boy who turned your favourite thing in the world against you, who put your friends in danger, who has more money in his left pinky than you’ll ever see in your life.

Finally, you slow, and watch as his eyes roll to the back of his head. His body falls to the ground and, for the first time since Sunghoon died in front of you, you smile.

A real, genuine smile spreads across your face as you turn to take in your friends.

“You look like shit,” Lia comments, her own grin growing on her face.

You lift a noncommittal shoulder, teeth bared. “You should see the other guy.”

Beomgyu laughs at that, hearty and full, taking over his whole body and the rest of you aren’t far behind.

Turning to Yeonjun, you find yourself growing shy. “You came.”

“I couldnʼt in good conscience let you walk into a murder house, now could I?” he asks with a tilt of his head and an easy-going grin.

You huff out a laugh and gesture to your blood covered body. “I’d hug you but I’m kind of a mess right now.”

“I don’t know,” he drawls, eyes raking over you appreciatively. Your skin flares wherever his gaze lingers. “I think the blood and guts is working for me.”

Somewhere next to you, Lia fake gags. “Oh, god, Y/N, your new boyfriend is gross.”

“Shut up, Lia,” you admonish without turning to look at her.

Yeonjun chuckles good-naturedly. “How about we reschedule that hug? Possibly after a shower. Preferably over breakfast.”

Feeling your cheeks warm, you nod. “I’d like that.”

“Great. I’m craving pancakes and I could use a hug, too.” You turn to see Beomgyu standing with a cheeky grin on his face.

There is a low grunt from behind you. Slowly rising to his feet is Taehyun having recovered from the wine bottle to the head. Steps staggering, he glares daggers at Beomgyu. “The only hug you’ll be getting is one from death. I’m getting that island—”

A bullet lodges itself in his head and he falls back, eyes blank. Soobin’s gun in hand, Lia stands with it aimed out in front of her.

You don’t even know when she grabbed it.

She exhales heavily. “I needed that.”

Despite everything, you laugh. “So. Breakfast?”

Everyone grunts in affirmation and starts talking over each other about where they should eat when they get back to the city. Obviously, you need to wait for the police to arrive so that you can give your statements. Someone needs to talk to everyones’ parents, let them know what happened. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get there. Together, of course.

Trauma bonded and all that.

192 notes · View notes

hyuukais · 3 years ago

Note

for your ask game, kombucha, strawberry tea, & rosehip tea! kind of a random mix lol 😭

lol the random mix is all good with me ! thank you for sending one in !

Kombucha: What do you order on a pizza?

Unfortunately, I am very lame and a picky eater so just cheese 💀 I’ve had pepperoni once or twice and it was…fine ig but i plan to stick to my plain jane pizza choice

Strawberry Tea: Tell me about your first kiss, if you had one.

For someone who’s primary writing genre is romance my life is very lacking in it. i haven’t had a REAL first kiss, at least not one that i count, but there was this one time in preschool/daycare. i don’t remember most of what was happening just that there was this kid and for some reason i said “kiss me!” then grabbed his face and kissed him on the lips 💀 young me was definitely a lot more confident to say the least

Rosehip Tea: Which book did you love when you were younger?

One book that remember absolutely LOVING was Corduroy. It’s that story about the little toy bear who’s missing as button so he wanders around this huge department store looking for one but gets. then this little girl comes and buys him and sews on a new button and i just really loved it :((

You are in a café with me, what tea do you order?

#ask game #soobisms !#ace talks

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writingmochi · 2 years ago

Text

cast: beomgyu ✗ fem.reader (ft. billlie’s haram and stayc’s sieun)

synopsis: a girl, a folktale, a boy, and a shifting reality

genre: psychological horror, folktale retelling, thriller, slow burn, drama, historical au, nobility au, regency au, medieval au, rich kid au, fantasy au, angst, fluff, a bit comedic in some parts

based on: folk tale cinderella with inspirations from video game omori (2020) and movie everything everywhere all at once (2022)

word count: 18748 (18.7k)

warning(s): unreality! (be very careful!!), child negligence, anxiety-inducing, mental breakdown, discrimination, suffocation (warning for claustrophobics !) implicit violence (no detail), a bit of suicidal tendency, a tiny bit suggestive, will be very meta in some parts, fast pace flow that might give you whiplash, unique stylistic choices (ever-changing typeface fonts and colors), slow first act that i shred into pieces as fast as lightning :] (if i forgot some, let me know!)

message from the moon: remember that this story is fiction also do be careful and read the warnings at the top + (y/f/n) = your full name. i swear i didn’t intend for this one-shot to be this long but i guess it is necessary since i wanna pull out the rug under y’all :D this one-shot is a part of the happily never after collab hosted by @soobisms and @svhnflwr so do check the other works too!! thank you so much for letting me participate in this spooky collab !!

an atmospheric playlist!!

a small local cinema stood in between a hardware store and a pet shop. signs hanging outside with lights fluttering in and out of liveliness because of broken wires beneath them.

from the outside of the glass doors, you’re visible. leaning against a counter you stood behind, an open book of pride and prejudice by jane austen in your hand rested on top of it. you wore a white shirt tucked behind a dark blue apron. the smell of popcorn cooking in the popcorn machine behind you fills the room. the theatre's door was open, but no one came in or out. no other person besides you in the small building. a small family business your father made before passing away, leaving you with your stepmother and stepsisters who don’t understand your father’s aim in creating an independent cinema. always striving to look the best while running the family’s savings out and making your household more and more in debt because of their credit cards and their low credit scores.

your father was a filmmaker, an indie filmmaker who hasn’t reached his stardom when the grim ripper took him away too young. well, it took both of your parents too young.

you were born into a family of people thinking outside of the box, your parents both practice art in their different ways, your father is the art of the visual while your mother is the art of the numbers which includes being the financing hold of the cinema you stood in today. they met during their college years and their love of stories persists to you. you always thought it’s hereditary, your love of stories, cause nurture isn’t enough to produce such love. that love holds onto you as you remembered reading to your mother your first ever story you made for a story competition for school at her deathbed when you were 8 years old. how she was always the one that tells you a story before sleeping. but because of the condition, you’ve grown up to replace her role while she becomes yours. you go back to your room in the empty house and you leave her to sleep. father is still at the cinema serving his collection of indie and old films that night, not being by her side on their shared bed. she didn’t wake up in the morning.

you’re a tough girl who has the resilience of your mother, ready to grow up without one. but your father disagrees and marries his then-middle school lover who has two daughters older than you but around the same age. he still took the cinema job seriously, and still has employees working under him while he travels away to film festivals or shoots at exotic places as his job as a filmmaker. the days when he’s gone, your stepmother and stepsisters treat you in whatever they want to treat you.

one day, father traveled to a mountainous place with waterfalls and valleys around it near the end of your middle school era. father brushes the skin below your eyes before he goes, reminiscing about how the love of his life also has dark circles resembling yours because of working too hard. he promised to bring back home footage of them and the unedited movie to you. but, he didn’t come back. all the cast and crew of the movie, along with the passengers on the airplane, got swept by the wave in the ocean, never to be found.

the will come out and all of them settled that as your stepmother is his wife, she will inherit the house and his savings. but what the lawyer gave tween you was a certificate of the cinema your biological parents built, your name written on it as the inheritor. you felt sorry that you have to let the employees know your father passed away and have to let them go for financial reasons, but the staff treats you with kindness, and almost familial love as if you are their own younger sibling who also loves cinema and untold stories as they do. your stepmother and stepsisters cannot touch nor change the cinema because they have to come to you first. you won’t let it go as it’s the only piece of your parents’ legacy in the world other than yourself.

other than taking care of a small local cinema in a one-man show, your love of stories got you to study literature. books and other forms of media are escapism for you and your parents. they showed you spielberg‘s movies like e.t. since young to grow your imagination of having an extraterrestrial friend or the sound of music when you first see julie andrews on the screen, singing in the meadow. your parents give you children’s books since you were young and you remember by the time you’re in high school, home life was a nightmare that the school library becomes your second home, going home late after class to have more time to escape rather than facing the reality of your stepmother and young adult stepsisters—not like they care you were home or not. you use the money you got from the percentage of inheritance from your father and use it to pay for your early years’ tuition for university studying literature. and you continue your parents’ dream of introducing cinema to people, sharing stories more down-to-earth than those blockbusters in the other theaters.

holding your classic novel close to your chest, you sit in your class today in your oversized, dull-looking outfit. other students around you panic as they pull out their book review from a task given by your lecturer last week while you already gave yours two days ago. you lean back in your seat as the lecturer lectures about this week’s topic, folk tales.

“we know folk tale as a story so simple that it is interpreted as fairytales for children. however, folk tale is more than that.” the lecturer speaks at the front, and the lights from the projector above them shine down on the screen behind them who is walking whilst talking.

“folk tale is a tale of folklore. folklore is an explicit way to show one’s culture and share it with other people. think of it as the greek tragedies we have learned about before, where they teach us about aspects of life and nature through the challenges faced by gods and men. folklore is like that but purely made by humans to show one’s expression and one’s belief. it is shown through proverbs, legends, and what we are learning today: folk tales.”

you’ve known folk tales before from the children’s books you’ve read that might be too harsh to tell children. maybe because you read the brothers grimm version, but you understand they make it scarier as a cautionary tale for the kids in their time since danger and risks are everywhere than today where technology can help prevent them. so when your lecturer told the class to pick one folktale to make a review of, your mind goes blank.

yet, deep down, you felt a certain story you want to choose. you have to write them down for the lecturer before anyone does.

you fast-walk to the lecturer who sits at the desk in front, a paper with written names of your classmates and the tale they picked beside it. you skim down the list, letting out a sigh of relief before you wrote the name of the folk tale.

cinderella.

closing the front doors of the small cinema, you meet the night sky of the town. you walk towards the bus stop, skyscrapers shining a few blocks down. your parents didn’t predict this but the cinema now rests near the area of wealthy people, where conglomerate lives and works at. the capitalist nature of them stranded the local business that is made by passionate people, in favor of something they are used to that costs much more than what you have. your eyes glance towards the passing apartment building you know children of conglomerates live to separate from their parents since it’s near the university you go to, while the bus you are in goes past it and towards the outskirts where the middle-low income lives.

after you put down your shoes outside the front door, you step inside your well-looking house with expensive pieces of furniture and the newest, trending tech devices. well, you went past it to climb to the second floor and to the end of the hallway where a doorknob exists if you look closely enough. the door's color camouflages with the surrounding wall. a creak coming from the door being open, you climb up and arrive at the rooftop of the house, a little nook in the attic for a hermit like you.

you set down your bag as you grab your sleeping clothes before going back down to the bathroom at the back of the house which you’re allowed to use to clean and freshen yourself, hoping none of your sisters nor your mother wakes up right now. the cold water creates chills on your skin as it’s nearly an hour until midnight when you went home, you moved past the dirty kitchen with dirty dishes beside the sink, knowing the other people living in this house know you and your willingness to clean their mess—because you learned the hard way when you said no, the distinct sting forming on your cheek.

climbing back up to your attic, you open the laptop you own since the start of high school. you search for cinderella on wikipedia when you scroll to see different versions of them that existed in this world. from french to brothers grimm, to rodgers and hammerstein and disney. as you read the descriptions of them, they all told the same story.

specks of dust cover the corners of the attic as the candle you lit up flatters from the melting wax, the wick cannot hold more before you blow the flame away, a bit of the dust flung from your gush. the moon staring at you from outside of the window as you rest on the mattress on the floor, your eyes droop as your mind can only think one thing.

a girl with an awful family goes to a ball and meets a man. she left something behind so he could find her. all of them end the same, no matter light or dark, to earn a happily ever after.

something pecks the skin of your arm.

humming a low note, your eyelids open to a silhouette in front of you. a small creature right beside you.

you heard the chirping become more prominent as the silhouette fills up with color.

a blue bird tilts its head as it looks at you.

“oh, good morning,” you mumble before hearing more chirps around. that’s when you sit up on your bed and look to see the small critters you considered your friends.

“good morning to all of you.” the small critters climb up to your sheets and give a small hug to your covered calves, the birds leaning their feathered head to you while the rats’ small limbs give a ticklish sense that wakes you up. you view outside your small tower to find the sun has risen above the horizon before the muted sound of a bell ringing echoes down the stairs.

your body reacts as you prepare yourself for the day, telling the critters to help you in putting the ingredients for today’s breakfast in the kitchen. in contrast, you prepare yourself, changing from a sleeping gown to one of the abundance of white dresses you own for the outfits you wear every day. feet step down from the small tower that is your room and an inventory for your household, you meet the refreshing breeze and green scenery of the backyard of your estate. quickly, you grab the white apron of yours and start cooking for breakfast. your friends help you grab the ingredients while you cut them up, putting them all together as you make breakfast for the sweet tastebuds.

as you put the unfinished cake onto the large oven area of the kitchen, you flap the fire using a fan to increase its burn. but ashes come and stain your white outfit, though you are used to it by now. the grey of ash and dust with the smell of smoke is a thing that you and the people in the house associated with yourself. after finishing adjusting the fire, you pour the hot water into the teapot on the tray at the top of the wooden table along with the ceramic cups. your friends scrambling around the kitchen to help you put cutleries on the tray before the bell is ringing again, now clearer as it hangs beside the exit of the kitchen.

you lift the tray with both hands, mumbling a small “thank you” to the critters as you walk to the dining table from the dirty kitchen. you go through the house's hallways as carefully as you can and arrive at the dining table to see your stepmother on the edge of the dining table, looking imposingly at you coming.

“what took you so long?” her elegant voice calls to you as you set the three cups on her side and two sides beside her, pouring each of them their tea leaves and hot water.

“i’m making a chiffon cake for breakfast, mother.” your small voice sounded as you look to see the two empty seats beside her. it’s not weird for them to wake up later in the morning. so you spoke, “do you want me to wake them?”

“no, focus on breakfast.” mother said before sniffing the surrounding air, looking down at your grey-colored clothing because of the ash.

“oh ashfool. go back to the kitchen…” after giving a small nod, you return to your cooking. pulling out from the oven and putting the delicious chiffon cake that is your late mother’s recipe onto the large plate, fresh fruits and jams all around it with small plates to serve the delicacy. the rats that help you wash their hands with the drops of water from the tap before you return to the dining room to see that your stepsisters have woken up and sipped their tea.

“thank you, (y/n).” the younger of the sisters said in a nasally way as you put the contents on the tray to the dining table. meanwhile, the older gives a smug smile before you give a small nod and walk to the corner of the room where a chair sits. your designated chair.

your gaze moves from the women at the table to the interior of your childhood home. from the memories of your mind, you can remember being in that exact spot with your own father and mother: the earl and countess of the house and the land surrounding it. then, mother fell into an illness and passed away. father then remarries, making the house of the earl and his daughter into a home of an earl, a countess with two titles that she got from her deceased husband who is also an earl, and three ladies from two separate lineages, with you being the youngest. father died on his way home outside of the town known for the roses. he promised you a bouquet of it when he returns home, but he never did because his aide comes to your home and tells you the devastating news.

it is almost an instinct that when your father died, the other women start to ridicule you and not include you in affairs. even if your father remarry, he still had a soft spot towards you rather than his wife and stepdaughters—maybe because you are his blood and bone. you are also a lady in this home—the only lady of your house who is still alive, but they pushed your status down the river and make you the caretaker of the house instead, while they take advantage of the lands your family owns from your great-great-grandfather that are handed down by hereditary.

as you eat the leftover meal from yesterday’s dinner, you overhead the women at the table speaking about the upcoming debutante ball that is happening in a few days for the social season this year. many names of other gentlemen are mentioned, but not many do you recognize. the ones that you don’t. you heard your name being called by your older sister as you stood and walk towards them, seeing the leftover cake which earns you a small smile to know you can at least taste your cooking.

you tidy the cutleries up onto the tray when you picked up, “what about (y/n)?” as it comes out from the younger of the sisters. you always realized that although all of them behave cruelly towards you, she is much tamer than the other two. probably because she is calmer and a few years older than you, she sometimes considers you in their conversations.

“she’s also a lady. isn’t the more debutantes we have, the more chances we can get for a wealthy, high-status husband?” you paused your movement before turning around. you’ve always heard about the debutante ball and the social season, carriages of high-status people walking in and out from the path in your land to arrive at the balls that are organized for this season. your parents used to take you in those balls back when you were a child, remember the men and women older than you debut themselves so they can find suitors, getting you to meet the other children of earls, marquees, and dukes that you’ve now forgotten because of the isolation.

“no, she can’t join us.” mother speak in a stern voice. “i don’t want to take care of her card when i already have the two of you. besides, she is the caretaker of our home. you do know your position, right ashfool?” your head lifted as she talks to you. all the suppression you had for you to retaliate is rushing down your blood, but you perceive it as an unladylike feature.

“i do, mother.” you gulped down your saliva. feeling the tension released but sadness overcome your emotion as you missed the festivity you had as a child. bringing back to live your life as a hermit that you think even the people outside of this house don’t know that you exist. the name, maybe, but not your being.

“ooh, i want to request a rotisserie chicken for dinner tonight.” the older of the sisters said before you return to clean off the dust that accumulates in the house this morning after cleaning the plates. you give a small nod and left the women themselves. at once after turning the corner, you listen to their snickers as they talked about you and your dirty, ash-covered clothing, how you won’t be a debutante, and if you do, no one will ever recognize or approach you.

later in the afternoon, you pick up a basket by the door of the kitchen as you go to the front gate of your home to go to the marketplace in the middle of the town. you found out there is no chicken meat left at home and that you have to buy in the market far from where you are. closing the gate, you walk on the path and examine the large land of yours and your ancestor’s estate as you go past.

you remember hearing your father say to your mother how with land that size, they could teach you whatever they want. they always wanted to teach you how to ride a horse so it’s easier for you to travel than hire a carriage service. but, after your mother passed and stepmother replace her, she forbids the house to have a stable for horses as she doesn’t want her children to do such unladylike behavior. it was the only decision that she has included you in her consideration. other than that, she ignores you and belittles you behind your father’s back. instead, you took care of stray animals that are there ever since she passed. your actions of giving them food and not bothering them earn your little friends, as you liked to call them. you’ve always been able to understand animals and they seem to understand you too.

birds whose chirping you recognize follow behind you as you stride down the empty path for horses and carriages. you could sense the breeze blowing between the trees as you can get a small glimpse of a rooftop of a large building on the edge of the horizon. the royal family’s castle near the center of the town. you pass a few houses of other marquees, earls, and dukes that are scattered on the road when rustling came from the trees beside you. ears piqued as you turn your head to the side.

“easy…” you heard a low voice fading closer as the leaves and bushes shakes. body retreating towards the other edge of the road…

“AHH!”

gravity pulls you back as you discover the neighs of a horse that just burst out of the forest onto the dirt track. its front hooves rise before the horse falls on its legs erect, standing in front of you. you watch the rope being pulled from the side of the mane as a view of a figure sitting on the saddle, making the horse face the way you are going. a hand reaches for the mane, caressing it while they calm them down in almost a whisper with indistinct words.

you look up to see a man around your age in the brightest white shirt you’ve seen. the breeze blows as you try to get up, which makes his hair floats also. your grunts make his head incline towards you.

“oh!” he exclaimed. his short brown hair covered his forehead as you successfully stand up. from beneath the horse, you can see that a pair of legs landed before walking behind it. you view the man and your mind immediately thought about him being one of the sons of barons, earls, or dukes in this land. the finest man you have ever seen in a long time. even the aura of your father exudes from him, but more playful.

“are you alright?” the man said as you brushed your dress that has faded dirt stains on it.

“my apologies. rocky here got startled by a bird flying in front then he went off course.” you give a nod before looking at the horse who is staring at you, sadness in its eyes. you walk to the front and gently open your palm that is not holding the basket in front of its nose, which it sniffles before its ears moved to the side, giving a soothing gesture as it relaxes.

“i forgive you,” you spoke to the horse and then looked at the man who lets out a small smile. feeling the awkwardness in the air as you took glances at each other.

“i should go.” you give a small nod and turn your body toward the road.

“wait.” you paused in taking your first step. “are you going to walk to the end of the road?” the man’s questions make you face him again. his eyes show an apologetic look.

“i‘m visiting the marketplace.” you nudged your empty basket forward.

“let me bring you there, miss…”

“(y/n). my name is (y/n).” your vision looks at the horse, who is flinging its tail around as it listens to both of you conversing. you’ve never interacted with a stranger before, but him just openly asking you to let him bring you to your destination was something almost fictional. you can’t believe someone as nice could exist. the legs that are holding you up are tensing from the amount of walking as the fatigue spreads and now reaches your brain to signal.

“i- don’t you have any other destination you want to go to?”

“not really. i was riding around on rocky to sightsee. trying to find some freedom.” the man said as you took a closer step toward him.

“and how should i trust you, mister?”

“beomgyu.” the man said his name as he breathed out, making his shoulders slump in relaxation. beomgyu.

“mister beomgyu.” you give a nice small smile as you see his eyes widen before wandering around the frame of the forest he is in with you, supposedly thinking of something.

“i’ve already hurt you and i supposed this could help me repay it.” beomgyu voiced as he nods his head, letting himself trust his words. you hummed before you stare up at the saddle on the horse.

“i can say that i’m not that hurting but I would love it,” you replied to his request before he beams a smile toward you before you step closer to the horse’s body. as you try to figure out how to climb the horse with the basket, you tilt your head in confusion. that is when you felt a pull from it and something touches your shoulder. turning your head to find beomgyu behind you.

“let me help,” he speaks as he puts your basket on the ground. he guides you where to put your feet on the saddle and hands before putting his hands near your waist in case you fall as you heave up on the horse. your dress lifts until above your knee before you smooth it down, holding onto the back of the horse as you perceive it move slightly beneath you. beomgyu gives you your basket then does the same as he climbs to sit in front of you, giving a small command to rocky as the horse walks down the path.

“i’ve never heard of you before.” the man talks as his head turns towards you while you move closer so you can talk and he could understand you.

“well, i supposed you don’t need to,” you replied. beomgyu lets out a chuckle.

“someone as beautiful as you must have to be the talk of the town.” your eyes widen as your face gets warm from the blood flowing, nudging his arm playfully as giggles erupt from him.

“thank you, uh, i guess.”

“your guess is right.” he looks forward to the road as more of the rooftop of the castle is more visible than before. the marketplace near it is now closer than ever.

“the social season is upon us.” beomgyu breaks the silence.

“ah, yes.”

“if i haven’t seen you it means that you haven’t had your debut yet?” the man tilts his head as you can sense rocky’s behind getting jumpier than you like it, making you lean closer to him with your hand on his side, the basket pressing to your body.

“well, i haven’t and i don’t think of going this year.”

“why not?”

you let out a small smile, “i supposed it’s not my right to be there. i’m,” you shook your head. “i’m a child of nobody.” yet, you are a child of somebody, but the demeaning comments made by the lady in the house make consider as not one of them. sadly, no one cannot be by your side to defend you either.

“but i want to meet you there.” you lock into eye contact with him as your hand lands on his waist after moving the basket to rest on top of your thigh. you let out a small chuckle.

“that would not be necessary. i assume you are a child with influential parents, by the looks of you being able to own a horse, have to be there?”

“well, you got me.” you and he let out a giggle as you can now find more roads branching out from the road you are on. “my mother wants me to find a wife. i always ask her to wait but now with the ball, she seems as if she can’t wait any longer.”

“i do hope you find the right person.”

“but i want to be with you. especially right now. i rather be here with you than at that fancy ball. it is…” you can see beomgyu’s smile, making you lean closer and view the side of his face clearly as he turns to look forward. “i’ve never felt so free.”

his words resonated with you. this is the first time that you ever felt this free, walking outside to enjoy the scenery with someone who is feeling what you are too right now. beomgyu is a stranger to you, but what you are having with him is something more.

something familiar.

“another two mugs of beer, please.”

“coming.”

you grabbed the drying clean wooden mugs on the table and walk to the barrel that sits sideways, twisting the tap as the beverage pours out in a dash as the liquid becomes foamy. you see your friend, haram, navigate the aisle between the customer to place down each food sieun, your other friend, is making in the kitchen. haram walks past you as she goes to pick up other plates of dishes made, she points towards the table where the people who ordered sits. you walk and let out a smile on your face as you put the mugs down in front of the two men who are eating roast meat, their waves of laughter combined with the others in the tavern.

“thank you, beautiful.” one of them said as they give you flirty eyes. you give a nod and go back to your station behind the counter as fast as you can. you still can’t believe how your mother can keep up such manners and emotion for a long time while doing her work. so elegant yet meticulous at the same time.

your parents always love to cook and they created a tavern together. a small quaint tavern in the middle of town where anyone can be here to get away from any work they’re doing in the day. you grow up assessing the bustling business from both your father’s kitchen and mother’s counters, that is until she passed away from a dangerous plague you’ve also caught. you knew you wanted to say by her side for the longest time as you isolate yourself with her when you both caught the illness, even if it means leaving the world together at such a young age. but someone somewhere made a change of plan for you as you live to survive, watching your father marry a neighbor of his who is a widow with two daughters around your age.

back in your home, your father always loves to make new recipes for the family if he receives new ingredients from his farmer friends. but, your stepmother always dislikes what he does. she doesn’t enjoy seeing a man in the kitchen as she always told him to pursue a more ‘masculine’ career like sieun’s father, who is a blacksmith. his love of food persist until he died because the kingdom drafted him into a war with the neighboring kingdom. because he passed prematurely, the only one who can work for the tavern is you. since after you finished your education that you don’t have any work to do or any suitor for you, you invited both of your friends to work with you at the tavern.

you taught haram how to serve customers, being the person who can help her release her stress and emotions toward you. then you taught sieun your father’s recipe as she wants to be the cook—you know she can do her part perfectly when she told you about being near sharp objects and heat. you take the role that was your mother’s and the manager of the tavern altogether, still in contact with your father’s friends as suppliers for the business. it is weird to hear a woman as a business owner, but because haram’s mother, a dressmaker, also owns a business, she helps you in managing all these things.

your stepmother doesn’t enjoy seeing you succeed independently. so with the power of her being married to your father before he passed, she demands you to give 1/3 cut of the profit every month that was supposed to help in your supplies and making the tavern better. you cannot deny her as much as you want to because if you are, words of disgust will spread around you that if you cannot respect your parent, you cannot respect your customer either. ironically, she and her daughters can’t respect you even though they live in your father’s home and not theirs. as a result of that, you let yourself live in a spare room of the tavern as you don’t want to be connected to them once again. you don't want them to treat you like a servant when you return to your own house.

as you dry the clean mugs, eyes on the open space full of people where someone is playing the lute, the entrance opens as a cloaked figure comes in. the cloak is raggy, almost trailing the wooden floor and even though they’re inside, they aren’t dropping their hood. people who wore something similar to this are most of the time travelers or maybe fugitives, but it doesn’t matter to you as you are here trying to survive. voices muffled and the tunnel vision you got on the cloaked figure makes you didn’t aware of something slamming in front of you. you twist your head to the sound to catch a man mumbling his words, trying to enamor you for free beer. all you can do is shake your head and say “no” while furrowing your eyebrows. as fast as the air travels, you see a glint of light slice the air while finally noticing that he’s wearing armor on his figure, pointing his shortsword at you. a knight.

both of your hands raised as you step back, slamming your bosom against the cabinet behind you as the knight’s voice penetrates the air and even the melody of the lute at the back. you look at haram’s shocked face as she walks to the knight.

“please, sire. we can finish this calml-"

“NO. THIS WOMAN HERE HAS” he hiccuped while pointing towards you. “has insulted me and-“

“stop!”

your head turns toward the source of the unknown voice. eyebrows raised to see the cloaked figure that enters the tavern right next to the knight. the knight in a face full of rage turns his body to face the figure before his face fell. “your h-“

“you are clearly too drunk to act. i suggest you go back to your quarters wherever it is.” the figure said wisely. because of it, the knight seem to sober up for a bit and retracted the shortsword back into its hilt on his body. he looks between you and the figure.

“m-my apologies.” the knight mumbles before scurrying away. haram’s gaze follows the knight before turning towards you, communicating through your eye contact as you give a small nod so she can continue doing her work. you then turn your head towards the cloaked figure as they let out a sigh.

“thank you.” you quickly gather yourself and pour one of the clean mugs a beer for the figure. you gently slide the filled-up mug to them as they looked down at it.

“it’s on us,” you tell them so they don’t have to pay. the figure’s shoulders slump before they sit down on the barstool.

“thank you,” they replied before pulling their hood off. a man with the upper part of his black hair tied to the back and the ragged robe he wears hides an expensive-looking outfit beneath it. a few seconds to study their face is enough for your eyebrows to rise.

you recognize that face. you’ve seen that face before.

“a traveler?” you asked, trying to subside your suspicions about the person because the face is too familiar to your liking.

“not exactly.”

“fair enough,” you replied as haram sends a message to prepare more mugs of beer as the lute continues to play now with the violin singing along.

“what brings you here, sire?” you put the mugs on the counter as haram picks them up and serves them to the tables.

“i’m scouting the town. everything felt new to me,” he said as he take a sip of the beer you served him.

“i thought you are not a traveler.”

“i-“ he paused as you turn your view somewhere else, hoping that could help him speak comfortably. “what i meant by ‘not exactly’ is that i live near the outskirts of town. i’ve never been in town before, especially at my age because i have so much to do.”

you nod your head, but your critical mind makes you think back on the clothes underneath the robe. “you must be a wealthy man then, sir. wearing such clothes beneath such a dirty robe.”

your comments earned a surprised look on his face as his mouth opens, trying to answer your questions. “i’m here visiting to attend the masquerade ball.”

the masquerade ball is the ball that the royal family has made in celebration of the prince’s birthday. though you recognize the king and queen, you never knew the prince as he is always so hidden or it is because his parents didn’t allow him to interact with peasants like you and your friends. the royals prepare this ball so that the prince can find himself a wife as he is around your age. a bachelor in need of a partner so they can rule this kingdom together. so it’s weird that even with such a close-off prince, the family still invited all the bachelorettes who don’t have a man to come so the prince can find the right suitor, all wearing masks so their inner self shines instead to make the prince interested. you didn’t plan on going but you sure know your stepmother and stepsisters do.

“understandable.” you give a small smile as you rub the rug you’re holding to clean up the liquids on the counter that are remaining.

“do you intent to go to the ball?” his question earns a short giggle from you as you shook your head.

“why should i go? i mean, look at me.” you open your arms so that he can study your dusty-colored dress underneath your brown apron because you always stayed by the ashes of the fire to see your father cook. even now as you and sieun talk about making new recipes in the kitchen. you aren’t called ashfool by your stepmother if it weren’t for it.

“someone like me could not be a suitor for a prince.”

“but aren’t you tired of the cycle you have to go to?” he presses on.

yes, you are tired. but it’s what you need to survive.

“the ball going on at night time is bad for me, especially if i leave the tavern to my friends. the tavern is always full at night.” you sigh before looking somewhere else than him. “it sure sounds fun.”

“and i enjoy your company here with me.” the man said as you face him as fast as you can. “we could talk more at the party if you come.”

you let out a chuckle as you turn to see haram raises a pointer finger towards you so you can grab a mug and fill it up from the barrel behind. though there are barstools where you are working, nobody seems to care enough to interact with you, and this man is the first one. so when you heard he enjoys your company with him, something flutters inside you.

“i’ll try my best. if i could find the right dress and mask since the ball is in a few days.” you give a warm smile as he replicates it on his own. “you sure have a promise you have to fulfill, sir…”

“it’s beomgyu. and i make sure i’ll fulfill that promise.”

the thick cable of your laptop charger rested beside it, plugged. having such an old model means the battery is so bad it is leaking and you don’t have enough disposable income to repair or even fix it. your task for the folk lore paper about cinderella is around a third done as you don’t have any other things to do while multitasking. you eat the leftover salty popcorn you made last time—even you can say it sickens you, though it’s your favorite snack to eat.

your sticky fingers make you rub them on the blue apron you’re wearing, seeing it being stained by the grease before it’s dry enough for you to write again in your document, finding the right words to write with the multiple tabs talking about cinderella opened on the browser. with a theater to yourself, you prepare to watch the cartoon disney’s cinderella near the end of your shift, closing it early as if anyone wants to come to visit, anyway.

you glance at the cd case of disney’s cinderella beside the laptop as your hand grabs another popcorn while you read back on what you are writing, knowing you have to proofread it again so the words don’t come out weird. that’s when you hear a grunt and footsteps as the traffic sounds enter the cinema with you in it for the first time. a figure walking before the glass door closes. a man with boyish manners who is around your age enters as he comes and approaches you. he has brownish with a red undertone colored haired and mullet that falls to his nape, wearing a blouse and leather pants that you figure out cost so much.

as the man comes closer, you can’t help but see his face.

wait.

didn’t you see him before?

the face is so familiar.

and you can only pair one name with this face.

“beomgyu?”

“of course, you know me.” he said in an exasperated way before standing in front of the counter, agitated. “okay. sorry. i, i need someplace to hide.” he replies before looking straight at you, eyes meeting with an intense stare.

“why-“

“i’ll tell you everything. any place to hide?” beomgyu looks behind to the glass doors before turning back.

“i- well- you can hide behind the counter underneath the cashier.” you point towards the counter beside you as you let beomgyu walk to your side and sit with his back against it. the counter is fully made of wood, unlike the display case you stood in front of with the lights off because what should you display when no one comes? well, beomgyu did. you looked down at beomgyu who is calming himself down before the sudden sound of traffic enters again as a large man enters the room and walks towards you imposingly.

“excuse me, miss. have you seen choi beomgyu?” the man asks.

your eyes widen before you unconsciously let out a pout. is he that important of a person that someone is trying to find him? is this man someone he knows? or is this man someone dangerous and is beomgyu’s opponent?

“i- no. i haven’t seen choi beomgyu and i don’t know who he is, actually.”

“i see. thanks.” he turns around to walk the entrance before pausing. you’re glad that you didn’t let your vision leave him.

“how much is a small serving of popcorn?” the man asked before turning around and walking back to the counter.

“you want popcorn?” you squint your eyes at him.

“i’ve been running after mr. choi. i also need a snack, alright?” the man—exasperated—says as you give a nod, glancing at beomgyu for a split second to catch him looking at you before turning around and preparing the serving for the popcorn. receiving the heat from the machine, you close the lid again and walk to put the popcorn on the counter as the man is opening his wallet. you glance down at beomgyu as you gesture with your hand in a dash so he can move to the side and stand in front of the cashier. as he scoots, he accidentally hit the wooden material.

“ack.”

“what was that?” the man lifts his head as he looked at you, who is already preparing a painful expression on your face.

“it’s me. accidentally hit the cabinet, hehe.”

the man gives you the money and grabs the popcorn, “hope you have a good business today.” he said before leaving.

“yeah, i hope you find him,” you said back as the glass door closes before you slump your hand on the counter. you heard the giggle from beomgyu’s corner as he stands up beside you. “it’s your fault.” you glare at him.

“i know, but i didn’t expect my bodyguard to just order popcorn.” he continues laughing as you rolled your eyes, back to your laptop to do your task. you sense another body getting closer to you as you glance at him, blinking your eyes.

“(y/n), huh?” you received his mumble as you see him look at the screen of your laptop on the first page where your name is written. you hummed as a reply.

“this is a cinema?” he asked as he looked around. you let another hum of agreement.

“local cinema. a family business.”

“any interesting movie you play? blockbusters like the mcu movies or just newly released ones?”

“not really.” you lift your shoulders as you reply. “the movies we have are the ones that released the latest a year prior. we have all kinds of blockbusters there and also old ones like star wars episode 4 and jaws.“

“isn’t it just watching it on tv?” you let out a chuckle at his question.

“do you watch movies on your tv anymore? or do you use your laptop to open a streaming service to view it?”

“heh, touché.” his answers make you laugh as you can’t focus on your writing. he joins in too. you felt the sense of familiarity when you are with him, a connection from beneath you slowly rising.

“if you’re asking, my dad is a filmmaker and film connoisseur. he made a local cinema so indie movies can air their movies here and we can show people more movies from the old ones to obscure ones here unlike the theaters you know. we made money but occasionally, specifically the room night when we played the room by tommy wiseau, and people just flocking in. but day-to-day business, yeah it is this empty.” you emphasized the last two words as beomgyu looked at you who are pouting your lips. his eyes move to the cd case beside your laptop.

“what’s that doing here?”

“something to check out for my uni paper. doing a task about the cinderella folktale.”

“ahh…” beomgyu paused, “when are you watching it?”

“later probably?”

“can we watch it now?” your creases folded.

“you wanna watch it now?”

“yeah. i could give another opinion to be added to your paper.”

maybe another voice of opinion can help make your paper better as only a one-sided opinion can’t highlight the richness of the story.

“sure.” you agree.

beomgyu’s eyes lighten up as he requested drinks for both of you and a bucket of popcorn, which he promised he will pay double the actual price. you roll your eyes before a smile shows on your face as you guide him to the open theater door of the cinema, letting him walk into the small hallway full of soundproof walls your dad made into the small cinema which only comprises ten columns that are in a slope and five rows to the side, walk away on both left and right. both of you picked the seats right in the middle. you moved back to the entrance of the lobby room and turned the ‘open‘ sign to ‘close‘ and locked the door as you don’t anyone coming into the cinema without your supervision.

foot stepping on the carpeted floor as you go to the projector room and put the cd in the dvd player, the light dims from the small window from the room after you press the button. as the grandiose 1950s orchestra plays to the intro of the movie, you fast-walk to your seat beside beomgyu. he rested his bucket of popcorn in the middle while your drinks are on the other side of you two. you let out your breath as you see the book open and introduce the prologue of the story. the story of a young girl of a widowed gentleman who married his second wife with her two daughters. the man died and the wife’s true nature comes out where she is jealous of the young girl while always forwarding her and her daughters’ interests.

Thus, as time went by, the chateau fell into disrepair, for the family fortunes were squandered upon the vain and selfish stepsisters, while Cinderella was abused, humiliated, and eventually forced to become a servant in her own house. And yet, through it all, Cinderella remained ever gentle and kind, for with each dawn she found new hope that someday, her dreams of happiness would come true.

a white space you are in.

a rectangle window shows a scene of you and beomgyu sitting down in the theater watching the movie now in front of you.

yes, you.

you looked at the other windows that are surrounding you as you look at yourself in three different states.

buying something in the marketplace.

cleaning tables in the tavern.

watching a movie with a man.

the same man you met in all three instances.

as you looked down on yourself, you’re wearing a flowy blue dress that dances the air yet no wind is present here. hands open in front of you as you see the tint in your skin slowly fading. yes, the tint of the blue of fading away too. saturated. turning gray.

like ash.

ash…

“ashfool!”

you turn your head to see your stepmother who is now wearing a floor-length light purple dress by the open door of your house. your stepsisters climbing into the carriage that is taking them to the debutante wall with their white dresses that contrast the last of the setting sun behind them. blinking your eyes to gather yourself up, you turn to look at your stepmother and give a small “my apologies.” for letting your mind wander away.

but it felt like someone is watching you.

“take care of the house. clean the floor of our rooms. we will arrive after midnight so i want you to prepare tea.” you nod along the way as she rambles, walking down the step of the patio of the home as you lean against the door, already closing half the door away. as the door of the carriage closes, you said “take care.” before the carriage strides away and you push the door close.

you listen to the footsteps approaching behind you as you lean your head against the door. turning around, you view the magic and sparkly presence of your fairy godmother you met two days ago. seeing her holding a beautiful white dress and pair of gloves with accented blue accessories for your hair and a pair of glass slippers she handcrafted only for the size of your feet.

after beomgyu and you part ways outside of the marketplace because he has to go back home, you bought everything you needed for the rotisserie chicken your stepsister requested before going back home on your feet. as you arrived, made dinner for them after they have gotten home from whatever they are doing. while you clean the dishes up and prepare yourself to rest for the night, you realize light coming from a garden and a yelp outside. your curiosity makes you move to meet a lady sitting on the ground; in a glitter dress that reflects the moonlight, around the age of what your mother is supposed to be if she is alive.

she introduced you as your fairy godmother as you squint your eyes in confusion. but it changes when you recalled her saying, “your mother bestowed me to protect you.”

that night, you talked to her as if you are talking to your parents again: openly and enthusiastically. you mentioned how sad you are the past few years and mention the man you met earlier in the day. the mention of the debutante ball she hears makes her react happily as you watch her rambling about what kind of dress you have to wear for the ball. yet, you stopped her as you don’t want to pressure her to get you to go.

“aren’t you excited to see your prince?”

“he’s not my prince, and he’s also not a prin-“

“i can consider that boy to be like that for you.” as she touches your nose with her pointer finger, sparkles come from them.

yesterday is the most hectic day in your entire life as you have to take care of the house and the occupants while also your new guest. even though she wanted to help you with her magic, you always deny her as you want to do your job on your own. your critter friends also want to join the special occasion as the fairy godmother gives a spell to them that makes them talk. for the first time, you hear your friends talk and interact with you more than they did before—more dynamic especially as you can assign their voices to each other. you listen as your fairy godmother asks request for them to be your butlers and horses and they agree—wanting to make you happy as your eyes glisten from hearing their intentions.

looking at the mirror in your tower, you see yourself in the white dress that is a staple for a debutante ball but the blue accessories give a difference to you that could help you slightly stand out, making you remember the different flower colors on your stepsisters’ hairs. you look at fairy godmother appearing behind you wearing a blue dress similar to your accessories holding a fan for the dance card, looking at the reflection of you proudly as her hands caress your upper arms.

“your mother would be so proud,” she muttered as you have tears glistening in your eyes, feeling the vast happiness from your heart as the pain subsides for a moment.

as you walk down the tower, you find a carriage made of pumpkin—that doesn’t resemble a pumpkin at all—that fairy godmother got from the inventory with a few of your critter friends turning into butlers and horses. you give a smile to them as godmother walks into the carriage and guides you inside.

“we have to arrive there early so stepmother won’t catch us.” you voice out to her.

“sure, dear.” she flicks her wrist as you heard yelping from outside and a rush of winds and the trees move fast as the carriage lands on the road with more streetlamps on the side. the bustling crowd of the town is fading in as fairy godmother whispers to the horses to follow the other carriages to the castle.

you can see outside the many carriages that carry other debutantes lining up from the small window at the front of the carriage, the door being open by the butlers at the main entrance. sweat forming on your palms as you rub them against your covered knees before your godmother puts her hand on yours, smoothing it down with her thumb as you look at her and catch a glimpse of your mother for a few frames of time. you smile as you took a huge breath when you see the butler arrives at the door of the carriage and open it. the man’s hand opens to help you stand up and step down from the carriage where you watch other people walking to the door. your godmother stood beside you as she escort you to the entrance with the others, no sign of your stepmother and stepsisters, no sign of beomgyu.

every debutante is to be introduced when they arrive and enter the main room where the queen and her son are stationed. you just learned that the son is also debuting this season from godmother as you are preparing to go the day before. the queen wants to find the right partner for him. you notice a sparkle coming from the godmother beside you as you walk near the announcer—a name and title showing up at the bottom of the list when godmother steps up and points your name. as the door opens, you held your head high, introducing yourself to the bustling crowd.

“lady (y/f/n) of house (l/n).”

though you are on top of the staircase, you felt almost everyone turning their heads towards you, their stare piercing into you. godmother beside you as she guides you down the flight of stairs; meeting the eyes of boys and girls your age, their maternal figures that chaperone them, and a throne at the end of the hall elevated. the queen sat in the middle with the small yet luxurious seat beside hers. a man stood in front of it, eyes focused on you. the prince.

it seems weird to know that the mothers of the sons go to your godmother who is surrounded by them asking for a place in your card that she holds when your eyes are looking only at one spot. the steps coming from your glass slippers seem to ring in your ears louder than the crowd itself as it opens in front of you as they look between you and the prince. your eyebrows lifted as the prince walks down from the throne beside his mother’s, their facial features much more prominent. medals hanging on their torso as you see the familiar smile on their face.

beomgyu.

when he steps in front of you, you curtsy as best as you can after having not curtsy for a long time because of your isolation. “your highness…” you mumbled.

beomgyu looks at you as you return to your position. a hand gently takes yours as you watch him leaning down to kiss your covered hand. “lady (y/n).”

you let out a small smile as you can receive godmother’s voice approaching you. “dear, i didn’t get the names because i want to consult with you fi- ohh your highness.” you glance beside her to watch her curtsy.

“you can rise,” beomgyu mutters as you looked behind him to see the queen stepping up to walk behind him as you and everyone near her presence curtsy.

“your majesty.” you acknowledge her presence before raising your head. her chuckle in the most elegant and ethereal way you’ve ever heard.

“i supposed my son here wants to write in your card?” the queen asks towards beomgyu as he gives a nod. you look at godmother, pupils trembling in your eyes as you don’t know what to answer, recalling your practice session last night with her after a long time of not dancing. you wanted to curse on whoever put so many dance styles in one ball and the need to learn all styles. so as a bargain between you and her, you only wanted to do one dance, and it’s only with beomgyu if you met him. with the revelation of him being the prince, the burden grows.

“of course, we would love to.” godmother said beside you as she puts the name on your card while you look sheepishly at him, who is wearing a beautiful suit. that was when you picked up the string quartet playing from the corner as people went to the edge of the room and left the middle spacious for all the dancers.

“may i, my lady?” beomgyu gently speaks as he opens his hand to you. you were holding your breath the whole time as you finally let it out when you put your hand on his.

“we may.”

beomgyu brought you to the middle of the space where other people dance. you brought your hands into the right position that you learned last night and he reciprocates, hands on your hand and waist respectively as you slowly dance, following the melody of the music. feeling the glass slippers light taps on the floor.

“you look beautiful tonight.” beomgyu compliments, blood rushing, getting your face warm.

“thank you, your highness. you as well.”

“please stop with the address. makes me feel awkward.” his nagging results in both of you giggling as you dance. brushes of other women’s dresses grazed you as you both move around.

“well… this is me…” you mumbled to him.

“and this is me. you did lie to me when you said you are a child of nobody,” he replied with the words you spoke to him last time.

“it is a long story to tell.”

“and i want to listen to it all.”

“don't you have more dances to do? besides…” your eyes gaze at him as he guides you in the dance, sensing your arms aching for staying in the same position much longer than what you practice. “you are the one in need of a wife.”

beomgyu looks somewhere other than you, the same thing he did when he was thinking from the last time you saw him. humming flows to your ears from. “my dear mother wants me to find someone to dance to but i told her about wanting a specific girl i met on the streets for my first dance.”

you bashfully glance at him as you focused on your footwork to push the nervousness behind you when he continues, “and my last for the ball as well.”

“it will not work.”

“it is!”

“it is working. hold still.”

you hold on to the frame of the mirror before you as you sense a pull on your abdomen that is so strong you almost fling. as the ribbons are pulled from behind, you look at the reflection in the mirror, holding your breath. colorful dresses upon colorful fabrics stack in the cabinet almost the whole four walls of the room. sieun fanning your face and wiping your sweat using a handkerchief while haram stood behind, tying the ribbon. haram’s mother, the owner of the shop, looks proudly at the three beautiful women as she pulls out the masks she made.

after the conversation with the mysterious traveler named beomgyu and the promise you both partaken in, haram quickly asks her mother for dresses so the three of you could go to the masquerade ball. luckily, she had dresses she created inspired by her muse: her own daughter and her friends. a beautiful pink flowy gown with large sleeves until her hands. while sieun also wears a similar one to haram’s, but the dress is yellow and black with ribbons tied to the front. yours was undoubtedly blue—said the dressmaker—that trains down until it grazes the floor before you wear your shoes.

haram’s mother shows the three of you the three masks corresponding to your dress colors from the leftover fabric when she makes it the day haram told her they’re going until today. you put on the mask that covers the upper part of your face and ties the ribbons behind your head as if you are wearing your dress, feeling it pressing down on your cheeks and a frame forming around your vision. you were smoothing down the gown when you hear the light sobs coming from the older woman as she looks at the three of you, no words cannot express what emotion she is expressing as she let tears go down her cheeks while smiling as wide as she could.

“my daughters have grown up so well," she said as she hugged haram, before standing in front of you and sieun.

“your mothers would be proud.”

the woman pushes the three of you out of the shop as you watch other people in suits and dresses and walk to the imposingly enormous castle in the middle of the town, all wearing masks and clothing according to the theme. walking closer as you enter the castle gates, there’s a view of buffets of food placed outside for all the low-income citizen that comes to eat. a gracious gesture by the royals to show their selflessness behind their luxury. servers even wear uniform masks as they bring the trays of drinks and light meals across the ballroom that leads has a stair that branches out for the royal family to arrive at the top of it, where you can see the king and queen behind their regal masks and outfit, no presence of their son otherwise.

your eyes spin around along with the movement of the people that dance in the middle of the room, trying to find the man with tied hair somewhere. both of your friends stayed on the sidelines as they served themselves free food and drinks, letting loose for closing the tavern just for today. eyes glance towards your shoulder as you feel a tap to see a finger as you trail it to the figure wearing white and gold, the mask resembles the flow of his outfit as the black hair is let down with a length until the end of his nape. looking up, you see him wearing a beautiful crown made of flowers, branches, and beautifully carved shards of glass that you’ve seen both the king and queen also have in their own crowns.

the prince.

“your highness.” you bow your head whilst trying your best to curtsy, holding for a few seconds before you felt a caress on your forearm as you return to your earlier position and see him gently kissing your hand before looking back up at you.

“may i dance with you?” he asks in an ethereal sounding voice, his posture poised with a dust of elegance exuding from him. the prince wanting to dance with you? of course, you can’t deny it as it’s a once-in-a-lifetime moment. but your mind is still wandering to at least find the man you are here for.

“you may,” you reply after landing your eyes back on him as he brought you to the middle of the room as the other dancers seem to move away for you. muscles becoming tense as you look to the others with your arms flailing to follow the right pose before the prince held your hand and body in place in his.

“try to relax and follow my lead,” he said with you nodding right after as your body moves on the floor, following the melody of the music and the flow of other dancers. you notice that the couples dancing were staring at their partner’s eyes, but the reality of you dancing with the prince and having to meet your eyes with his is daunting. your mind goes elsewhere as you let him move your body however he sees, wondering if beomgyu came here or not.

“what are you thinking?” your head moves to the voice in front of you as you met the prince’s piercing eyes behind his mask.

“my apologies, your highness. i was wondering if my acquaintance has arrived yet,” you speak truthfully as your eyes on his focus on the mask that covers his cheekbones instead. you move with the others in the dance and both of your body rotates, following the flow that has been created you can glance at the entrance as you waited for beomgyu to arrive, but the prince immediately felt how your body becomes rigid as you see a group of three women entering the room instead. though it’s almost a week ago since you last met them, you can recognize them by their hair colors, their postures, and their dress colors.

your stepmother and stepsisters.

“i- i have to go.” panic seeps into your words as the prince turns his head to the entrance. you search everywhere for the nearest exit but failed as the sea of people around you covers it. you told your friends that you were only here for beomgyu and will return home to the tavern if you met him, hoping to have at least an interaction with him for a few seconds before your stepmother and stepsisters arrived. the last time you met them was the day you told them you won’t go to the ball, which changed with the appearance of beomgyu the next day. but you still remember the ridiculous comments you got about how if you’re there, you won’t change the prince’s attention anyway.

“i know where we can go.” a whisper said into your ear as your eyes gaze at the prince’s presence near you, his breath caressing the skin that is not covered by the mask on your face as a tug pulled on your arm where he guides you away from the sparse space into the crowd. you see other patrons seem to bow their heads to the prince, but he ignores them when you arrive at a set of doors and open them to the hallway bustling with servers.

he brought you along the hallway before arriving at a terrace with a garden before you, hedges stand tall as you step down to the garden and enter the hedges. your feet stumbling on the gravel path as he walks straight then turns a few corners as you look at a beautiful fountain with patches of flowers around it. breath heavy, he pulled you to the stone bench near the fountain as your eyes glare at him.

“you need to go back, your highness. it is your ball after a-"

“i needed that time to escape,” he speaks while ruffling his hair, the crown on top of him nudges as he picks it up and put it down beside him, stretching his head as he’s free from the heavy-looking accessories he has to wear.

you stood up as you walk to the cut you come from only to be bombarded by the hedge walls surrounding the two of you. wanting to leave as you don’t want to make the prince feel uncomfortable when you should find your friends so you can return home.

“please stay.” the other person said as you turn your body around. the ends of your dress meet your ankle as you watch the prince leaning his head down. when he sees the front of your feet in his vision, he lifts his head. as you look at him from your standing position, his face is shined by the moonlight above you. that’s when you see it.

beneath the mask around his eyes, shadows forming under them, skin sunken as veins shows near the skin’s outermost surface. how is straining his eyes so that he could wake up and stay awake.

“you should rest, your highness.” you bluntly speak as you see how his lips pouted before he lets out a chuckle.

“it’s too obvious, isn’t it?” his irises move down, knowing what your comment meant.

“yes, it is.” you blinked your eyes before looking away.

“i didn’t ask for this.” your eyes stayed looking at the water sprouting out of the fountain as the prince continues to talk.

“a masquerade ball. my parents truly use this occasion so that i could find a match or they could match me up with some noble daughters from all over the kingdom, saying that you’re getting too old when in fact i just arrive at the adulting threshold.” he sighs as you turn your head to the side, seeing the prince from the corner of your eyes.

“everyone was too busy for the ball that i don’t have any time to settle down my mental and physical being for something i don’t prepare and had no say in preparing. though the banquet is noble enough, we can focus on that instead rather than putting on this lavish event.” you nod along with his words, attentive to the change of volume of his spoken words as it gets louder and louder. hands in front of you together, you turn your body to see the prince’s head facing the night sky, giving the view of his neck and adam’s apple as he breathes the fresh air.

feet moving across the grass, you stood beside him and said, “happy birthday…” as a small comment as you recall the purpose of the ball held today other than for him to find a wife.

you didn’t expect his hand to move out and grab yours in his, reminding you of how he holds you for most of the time you are here. his head tilts down and you notice the sparkles in his irises, a small smile tugging his lips.

“thank you. you’re the first one to remember.”

your hands rub against each other as you sit on the bus on the way to your meeting place beomgyu and you agree. fingers playing on the ends of your father’s favorite blazer you kept that you’re wearing on this cold night above the blue dress you got from the thrift shop—a great-looking dress that you felt sorry for its earlier owner who can’t see the beauty of it.

after the movie finishes—where the whole time you talked about the characters, their motives, the plot, and the impact of it—beomgyu grumbles as he sees the alarm from his airplane-mode-on phone ringing, reminding him of an upcoming meeting he has where his dad invited him to. when he opens his calendar to check the time, you get a glimpse of a reminder of a charity ball at the end of the weekend. beomgyu notices it too as he paused before looking at you and then at the reminder.

“would you be my date for the charity ball?”

he would then persuade you, saying that you and he can slip away when people are eating their dinner. you had fun that day at the cinema with beomgyu he succeeded in his attempt and you have to prepare for a ball you know will include so many influential rich people—conglomerates—while you don’t even have savings as much as the amount they spend on a lunch in a three-star michelin restaurant.

stepping down from the bus stop at the park near the hotel where the ball is held, you can see a black suv with a man standing in front of it. beomgyu’s bodyguard who you met before watching the movie and after when beomgyu called him to the cinema, a sigh of disappointment comes out of him as he realizes how you perfectly lie to him while beomgyu is rolling his tongue to him before they left. the man seems to detect you under the flickering streetlights as you approach the car. his body turns to the backseat door and his hand rested on the handle.

“mr. choi was worried you would not come. so he stayed in the car.”

when the door opens, beomgyu’s body jerks from the sound as he faces you in a suit and tie combo. the frown on his face is replaced with a smirk as he helps you climb into the backseat with him, his bodyguard returns to the driver’s seat and drive the car away. you didn’t realize your hand was still in his before you let go to rub them on your blazer, glancing to the side to catch beomgyu’s eyes admiring you.

“you look great!” he breaks out. “whose blazer is this?”

“ah, i don’t know the brand, but it’s my dad’s,” you replied, trying to blend in some lingo that his crowd might use even though when you spoke it does sound a bit out of touch.

“i don’t care what brand it came from. yet it looks great and compliments your dress.” he rambles, giggles coming from you as you face beomgyu.

“thanks, gyu.” your sudden nickname of his makes his eyebrows raised before he lets out a wide smile that reaches his eyes.

“my pleasure.”

yet you aren’t prepared for the number of flashes coming from the camera as you walk down the red carpet into the ball. the backdrop behind you mentioning beomgyu’s family business with many interviewers asking him for an interview. gaining steady breathing, you tried to act as relaxed as possible. but, it isn't possible with the amount of exposure you have.

you sense beomgyu’s hands wrapping down to your lower back as you both pose for the pictures, letting out a smile that can highlight you the most before he escorted you away into the large ballroom of circular tables and chairs around it. beomgyu’s hand still rested on your back as he guide you and tap the shoulder of a middle-aged man. the man turns around and you see a face similar to his as the man gave a hug to beomgyu before looking at you.

“is this your date?” the man asked.

“yes, she is. dad.” your eyes widen as you realized you stood in front of beomgyu’s dad, the chairman of this conglomerate himself. you can see him scan you and the outfit you wore—smile slowly widening before he turns to pull the hand of a middle-aged woman who turns to glance at beomgyu and you.

“oh my- beomgyu. you didn’t tell me your girlfriend is so pretty.”

girlfriend?

your eyes turn to him as beomgyu sheepishly laughs along with the woman he calls—and you just realized—his mom, noticing the resemblance of them in beomgyu. his mom approaches you and tugs you away to the tables, moving past the tables at the back to arrive at the table near the stage where a podium stands. beomgyu follows behind the two of you as his mom looks at you enthusiastically. she sat both of you down in the seats beside each other.

you wanted so much to talk to beomgyu beside you but when you think got the opportunity, someone else always cuts you off. that’s when you finally felt the dread building up and the realization of the aftermath of the captured image of you being here with someone as important as a conglomerate’s son.

your stepmother could figure it out or your stepsisters could find something on the gossip news with your picture in it.

the event went by in a blur as your body move on autopilot, while your mind just think of the worst things that might happen to you when you arrive home. you can hear them calling you selfish for hiding such a high-profile connection from them before they degrade you and say you don’t deserve to be in connection to someone like him and it should be them cause they will nurture the connection better than you. you either look at the three-course meal being served to you or your lap, occasionally to the stage as you see the performance and the mc guiding the event. the air inside the room sends a shiver down your skin as you sit without your blazer, knowing it resting behind you on the chair you sit on.

your eyes glance towards the stage to see beomgyu giving a speech on the podium before looking away, not realizing he stayed his gaze on you for longer than you did on him.

the applause rings in your ears as hands settle on your shoulders when beomgyu leans down and whisper into your ear, “you want to get out of here?”

“yes,” you spoke, already having your blazer and purse in your arms.

that’s what it takes for beomgyu to excuse both of you as you both want to ‘take a shot at the bar’, when in reality he slips you away to the outside world from the kitchen and arrive at a small alley as he and you run together down the streets envelop by the night, finally being able to breathe for all the suffocation you held as he is also doing the same to you. you walk past buskers performing on the street and a road full of people with street food carts all over. ordering a few snacks as you watch the buskers perform, giving them money as appreciation.

“why did your mom say that i’m your girlfriend?” you said as you lean back on the bench overlooking the river, a large bridge where vehicles can go across right beside it as skyscrapers from the other side glimmer along with the stars.

“gosh. i’m really freaking sorry to bring you into my trouble.”

“well, too late ‘cause you did.” you let out a giggle at him while he finishes an ice cream cup.

“long story short, my mom and dad expected me to come with a date for this year’s charity ball. but i haven’t found one so i thought “why not?” and asked you before i go."

“well, why me?” you nudge your exposed shoulder to his covered one. the only thing coming into your mind is for you to tease beomgyu.

“i just have this feeling that for as little as our time interacting, you know me so well.” beomgyu lets out a sigh as he looks straight at the river in front of you. “like i’ve met you before in some past lifetime i might have.”

eyebrows furrowed, you shook your head as you don’t want something to seep into your min-

wait, why are you thinking like that? no. continue with whatever you’re doing.

“i- i guess i could sense that too?” you replied, head bops in confusion.

“right?” he turns his face towards you. he looks at his hand between the two of you before looking up, “but i never thought mom would immediately comment on you being my girlfriend. she’s- well-“ he paused as you pursed your lips. “you blend in well enough that she didn’t think you were out of place.”

something struck into your mind after he said, ‘cause even though he considered so, you didn’t. you don’t assume you blend in enough. you felt like you are a snowball in the middle of magma, melting slowly as you almost succumb to pressure before beomgyu noticed and took you away.

“thank you, gyu.” you said as you look at him shyly. “i didn’t feel like it though.”

“but you did so freaking well,” he said as put the empty ice cream cup on the other side of him, scooting closer to you on the bench. you look at your thighs touching as beomgyu lifts his hand, so it doesn’t squish between the two of you. sensing something cold press again your cheek, your eyes move to see a hand that belongs to beomgyu before looking at him in front of you. your eyes wandering from his wide eyes, cute nose, and plump lips.

“you were amazing,” he mumbles as you can feel his eyes not focusing on yours, but downwards.

as your breath hitches, you close your eyes and wait for him to the first move. both of your hands on your lap linked as you waited for the feeling of his lips on yours. but it never comes, so you open your eyes.

and see a split vision of three men trying to kiss you at the same tim- what?

a force pulls your body from behind you as you arrived at white space to see the three different windows of a couple almost kissing, all in a pause frame. all are from different times when you notice that all the women have something blue worn on them while the man beside her all have differing hairstyles. the longer you look, the more you realized the women are you and by proxy, the men in front of them are all beomgyu.

you stare at the three different filters on each window. the one where you are wearing something from a regency era has an ethereal filter with more white highlights and a tint of pink and purple. the one where you wear something a game of thrones character would wear is more neutral and brown tone while the last one with the backdrop of the city is more neon. all wearing age-appropriate clothing, but something just doesn’t feel right.

the three windows are on the three sides you could see. and if it is a room, there must be a fourth wall.

so, you turn around to find a full-body mirror in front of you reflecting your current state. the dress you are wearing is losing saturation every time you walk forward. not only the dress but also your skin tone as it contrasts with the white that is surrounding you. like smoke in a clear sky, like a speck of dust on a clean floor.

like ash falling down from a burning fire.

ash.

soot.

cinder.

looking at yourself hauntingly, you suddenly hear something coming from the mirror. not in front, not inside, but behind it. you step carefully on the white floor as you walk around the mirror that stood behind you without support. you catch a glance of a wall of text appearing on a floating laptop behind the mirror—you recognize it as yours. when you walk closer and skim-read the text, you take in what it’s trying to say.

Cinderella is a folk tale with thousands of variants throughout the world. The protagonist is a young woman living in forsaken circumstances that are suddenly changed to remarkable fortune, with her ascension to the throne via marriage

wait.

“a young woman living in forsaken circumstances, having dead biological parents and having a stepparent and step-siblings who, with no reason, hate her for being her. a young woman who found remarkable fortune by magic or coincidence, maybe even fate that could ascend her to the throne or any position of power,” you mumbled out.

isn’t this just your life?

but not your life, singular. but your lives. all three that you can see on the windows previously.

you who have a stepmother and stepsisters meet beomgyu who is a stranger that sits in a position of power and you both become infatuated with each other. all three of you went to a ball to meet your respective beomgyu, a prince charming or equivalent of it.

if you followed the cinderella story you know, you know what will happen next. you have to go home by midnight, stepmother and sisters then found out about your whereabouts at the ball. the prince charming will have to find you so that you both will accept your attraction and both be married so you can live happily ever after.

happily ever after.

you peer back at the laptop expecting to see the wall of text where it’s replaced by a question.

“what is your reality, ashfool?”

you blink your eyes to arrive back at the cinema from the start of your story, scrolling the document file you open for your task as you try to find any error. nothing came onto your radar other than the abundance of ashfool written in your file.

ashfool is a story of a girl…

… then ashfool has to live with her cruel stepmother…

bewildered, you see the cd case beside the laptop you put. taking a glimpse at the case cover to find something not what you remember.

disney’s ashfool and the cartoon main protagonist wearing a gray dress instead of-

what color is her dress again?

and why does she resemble you?

you quickly open the other tabs on your browser you remember are all the resources you need to write your review and you get the same thing. ashfool replacing the word you forgot. so, you open your own letterboxd account to search for the movies with your nickname to find the list that widens your eyes.

ashfool. ashfool. an ashfool story. another ashfool story. ashfool 2: dreams come true.

all media related to ashfool has your face and beomgyu‘s face on it, through photography; drawing; animation. all of them. your breathing quickens.

you close your laptop as you hear a muffled noise not from outside, but inside the theater—something playing. you run inside the door, finding the winding cushion-covered hallway colors saturating as you stare at a movie with you on the screen, the only colored thing in the whole theater. a movie of you in what seems to be a school, mumbling about losing your mp3 player in the school’s homecoming dance, before you look away into the locker you opened as the camera focuses on beomgyu walking by. holding onto the said mp3 player.

“what is your reality, ashfool?”

your head turns to a voice calling you as you realize your stepmother sitting on one of the seats in the cinema, wearing clothes half and half of a modern and nobility dress. her glaring eyes stare towards you with a smug smile on her face. her body leans forward, eyes piercing into your soul as your heart beats faster.

“now you know that in every reality. i will always be there. your sisters will always be there. we will always be there to let you know.”

as she finished her sentence, you see her stand up before movements sound arise as you see clones upon clones of your stepmother all turn towards you.

“you don’t deserve beomgyu.”

and they all move towards you, the clone nearest to you grabbing onto your body as you pull with all your might to let go. the crowd stamped towards you as it was too late to push the clone away when you can feel the hands reaching for you, scratching your skin with all the hatred she has for you.

you don’t deserve him.

you don’t deserve your inheritance.

you tried to struggle out of the sea of bodies as you use all your abilities to climb out. pushing and pulling to find a cracking space you can push your limb out. but with every movement to your success, another hand pulls you down and your clothes shredding by the sheer force of power. all the energy flowing out of you as the volume of colorful fabrics trying to swallow your monochromatic self. your eyes clouded with tears as you just want it to stop.

please, stop.

the only thing for them to stop is for you to stop.

and so you stop and let yourself succumb to them. sitting in a fetal position as you sink into the sea of your stepmothers, you try to focus on your heartbeat. the pain marks on your body sting you are still clueless about what made you deserve them.

the pressure pressing on you from all sides as you cover your body and face as much as you can, tears and snot staining your skin as you do your best to rock yourself to calmness.

to put the pain subsides as you accept your demise.

“(y/n)?” you felt your body being shaken.

your breathing comes out rapidly as you shake your head, not wanting to know who called you.

you rather you don’t know than suffer.

“please…“ you heard the desperation coming from the voice.

you lift your head while still having your eyes covered by your eyelids. the eyelids shield the piercing white environment as everything that you heard becomes nothing in your ears, remnants of it floating in the air as it fades out. only the sound of faint footsteps walking closer to you is now in focus.

you felt… safe?

because of that, you slowly open your eyes. the brightness gives a sting to your eyes as it waters more to help get it away. the blurry vision makes you look before you a blurry silhouette, lines so soft it blends. rubbing the moist coming from your eyes, you can finally see it

shades of blue.

three different shades of blue on an outfit.

head lift higher, you see the faces of yourself, all crouching down and looking at you. all versions of you you’ve seen before from the windows. the regency era you wear an outfit with the lightest blue color while modern era you wear the same thing but in the darkest blue out of the three of them.

“you okay?” she said. as the other lends a hand out for you to reach. when you put your hands on your other version’s hand, you could observe how saturated you are. your skin with all the tints bled out, only leaving you in a husk of a shade of gray. standing up, you can see the three windows you saw but with all of you missing. because they’re here with you.

“did all of you know?” you asked.

“well. all of us is you.” one of them said.

“and there are more than the four of us.” another speaks as she tugs your hand in hers as the four of you walk in white space beyond the three windows you find yourself in. no mirror to be seen.

instead, they show you more windows where you and beomgyu almost kissed. all in different attires, different situations, but you recognize underneath them it has the same premise. you look at yourself and him in tight suits with fire behind the two of you. another window shows you and him having animal ears as if you are hybrids. more of you in school uniforms, hospital environment, the edge of space, a clay version. all telling the same story of you and him.

“but did you know our story is a folk tale?” you asked the other three as they turn towards you.

“as said by my professor.” one of them speaks up. “folk tale is how we communicate our culture. a story to tell. supposedly every story always came from a fact and your story indeed happened in every timeline.”

“aren’t we-“ you try to articulate. “tired doing the same thing over and over again?”

“being tormented the same way with our stepmothers in each version?” one of them said as she finished your question.

but it’s noticeable how different all of you are. how different your upbringings are. you all have the same mind, opinions, and ideology. even though you are the same person. you can read the expressions of the other you as they glance at each other, even giving nods as they all turn to you and gave you a nod, knowing you will also say it.

“this is our only way to get happily ever after.” all of you said, except you who is as grey as your fuzzy mind.

ignoring their stunned faces, you walked past windows upon windows of you and beomgyu in different times; different worlds; different parts of history; different universes; before stopping at one of them you recognized. the only one that is moving.

a small local cinema stood in between a hardware store and a pet shop. signs hanging outside with lights fluttering in and out of liveliness because of broken wires beneath them.

the you from the start of a story you are reading right now.

you do remember it, right?

“we have to stop it,” you mumbled as you step back only to be greeted by the three versions of yourself you were with. you glance back to find rows and columns of you seating on the theater seats—watching the window you were just watching. their hands grab you as they pulled you to an empty seat right behind where you stand, but instead of sitting on it, the seat suddenly deforms as you are being drowned by it. white void slowly fading into black.

that’s when you see the other windows fading in and out as you are seated on a seat that they dragged you into. all of them show the same thing. the three of you you were with before walking back home from the ball.

you are running back home from the debutante ball as the clock struck midnight. fairy godmother helping you reach near to your home with the magic she helped for you and your critter friends before she fades away—her time helping you here is done. white dress torn as you walk barefoot on the dirt. holding the only glass slipper left as the other slipped from your foot as you run away to your carriage. terrified eyes trembled after being caught by your stepmother on your way out.

you are now walking back to the tavern with your drunk friends on either side of you. no meeting beomgyu and also a no to the prince as you rejected his advances. the dress being ripped as you push yourself out of the hedge maze when your mask falls as the prince is following behind you. eyes meeting your stepsister’s as the look of shock on her face crushes you before you left her to go report to your stepmother. letting out an enormous sigh as you arrived at the dark tavern where you brought them into your room before they collapsed on the floor.

you hear the vibration coming from inside your blazer as beomgyu stops his movement. the terrifying messages from your stepmother bombarding your phone before she then calls you. your hands shaking because of the tons of message notifications coming in above the unanswered call. you left beomgyu alone at the bench in panic, leaving behind your dad’s blazer on the bench to run to the nearest bus stop to go to the cinema. knowing them, they could threaten you by touching or vandalizing it if they want to as you remember the threat they've made in the past.

then, more and more windows show up as it shows you all the ways your stepmother torments you with your stepsisters. physical and mental pain occurring as you were told you were a “bad kid”, a “terrible person”, and “not deserving of nobility”. even you catch an animated version of yourself trying to get out of the room by using the force and your shoulder to the door that didn’t budge.

wait. an animated version of you from the regency era.

turning your head on the screen, you watch how school girl you is being pushed into a spaceship from the surface of the moon, leaving you there to not escape. you see yourself in what seems to be an adventurer outfit being swallowed by a haunted house as the phantom of your stepmother commands every piece of furniture to pin you up on the floor.

all of your reality seeps into each other.

the chair you sit in suddenly stops as it turns you to the side to see walls upon walls of white typographies of only two words—cinderella and ashfool—before the chair forces itself forward so you can collide with them and the other walls smash into you as words upon words swim and touches your skin. they ask you to embrace who you are, who you are fictionally is real.

you always are and always will be ashfool.

the black and white blends into the color of your greyscale body as they pressed into you. you’ve always felt that you are suffocated ever since your mother died. you don’t want to blame your father because he is your only guardian in front of the genuine nature of your stepfamily. but it just isn’t fair to know that in order for you to live happily, you have to face such torment and pain all the time.

you let your eyes close, letting your mind focus on other things instead of the words scraping your skin so they could mark you up. the vision behind your eyelids is black as the black background helps perfectly, every ash in your vision slowly dissipates as you steady your breathing.

don’t worry.

you’re okay.

there has to be something that could help you escape this cycle.

something to help you deviate.

deviate.

a shining white dot appears in your vision. no pressure coming from around you as you can now stand up. the only word that is sticking into your mind is 'deviate'.

deviate so you can reach your freedom.

deviate so you can make your own choices.

deviate so your life isn’t tied to a folk tale.

deviate so you won’t be attached to a cliché fanfiction plot.

you took a step closer to that white dot.

the steps you are taking are getting wider as you turn it from a step to a walk.

“are you really sure about this, (y/n)?” you heard your own voice calls you as your head turn to see yourself in the animated version of a cinderella dress. all you can do is nod your head as you continue forward.

“gosh (y/n) just give it up already. it’s not going to work.” another one of your voices speaks to you as you see yourself in a disco attire of wide pants and a vest. but, you turn that walk into a stride.

tens upon tens of your own voices call out to you as all of you turn up to look at yourself approaching that widening white dot in a black void. stride turn to jog. jog turns to dash. and dash turns to run, as more of you stood in front of yourself—trying to make you understand that this is how it’s going to be. that what you are doing is not going to work.

but no. you understand differently from them as you pushed them away with a strength you didn’t know you held as you are only a few steps away from the white light floating above the ground of the void. carefully stepping closer to the item as none of the other versions of you trying to stop you. you notice that the white dissipates as you met a floating glass shard. looking into one side, you see a reflection of your ashen self with no one behind you—but you glance to see other versions of you standing idle.

both of your hands reach both sides of the shard as your surroundings forms into a glass cave where asymmetry geometric shapes create mirrors so you can see yourself. well, different versions of yourself wearing something blue. in the front, back, left, right, above, and below you. the only one that shows you in ash color is the shard you hold. carefully lifting the shard to your eye line, you can see how dead you look. how terrifying your appearance is with a frown mixed with sadness from such a battle of strengths and wits.

you look like you want to quit.

you look like you are ready to leave reality.

you look like your job here is done.

glancing once more at the versions of you in the mirror-like glass wall before your reflection in the shards. you let out a smirk as only one thing came into.

you throw the shard you hold onto the glassy floor. it shattering creates a domino effect from all the glass around you. you can only let out a smile.

so, how can we deviate ourselves?

your eyes opened as you looked at the masked prince in front of you, knowing the identity of the person behind it. your hands reach to ribbons behind you as your mask falls from your face. the prince holding still as you caress his face.

“let your eyes close.” your hand moves to the mask he wears and pulls it off, throwing them to the ground.

“beomgyu,“ you whispered before leaning to connect your lips to his.

“deviating by him knowing the real you. that’s great, (y/n).” you turned beside you as you see the same you in the window as the kiss turns heated at the fountain. the mask is now in your hand as you grabbed them to hold it near you.

you looked at prince beomgyu standing before you as the string quartet stops when you heard the announcement of your stepsisters’ name as they enter the room. instead of running away, you stay still on the dance floor as your stepsisters and stepmother arrive at the balcony and you show your head held high as you face them.

the look of shock on their faces as you tighten your hand in beomgyu’s before godmother steps in to persuade you to let you go. turning around, you tell her, “let them. all of us here will see their genuine nature,“ when your stepmother quickly walks towards you, hand lifted before your vision zooms out to the window as you see yourself getting slapped. head still held high as the others scrambled to help you stay away from her.

“deviating by letting the others know how much of a monster they are. wonderful!” that you in the window said to you as she step down from her glass slippers and give you one of them, holding it in your hand.

your phone vibrates as beomgyu tries to kiss you by the river. you see the number of bombs being dropped on you as your stepmother texts you tons and tons of articles of you and beomgyu before she called you. beomgyu and you look down at the contact name and vibrating phone before you stand up and impulsively throw your phone with all of your might to the river, seeing it dropped into the water by gravity a few meters out before you turned your head to beomgyu.

“it’s a freaking long story. but do you wanna run away with me?“ a hand opens to him as beomgyu lets out a cheeky smile before he grabs them, dragging both of you away down the path into the night.

a white blazer drapes onto your shoulder as you see modern you giving a wide smile before waving a small wave as she runs away into the void.

you turn behind you to see all kinds of significant items that you left so beomgyu could find you—not needing them again as the glass shard that marks your boundaries shatters before all versions of you deviate one by one. you put them in a line on the dark void’s invisible floor, seeing an mp3 player, pointe shoes, and other sorts of stuff you collected as they’re thrown out from the windows of all of you who have deviated.

you pull out a box of matchsticks from the pile that you found. pulling a match out and lighting it up, you’ve looked at the line of the flammable items you have already in place meticulously as you approach the first one at the edge: the mask inside the glass shoes with the white blazer right beside it. you put the match on top of the mask as the flame lit it up and moved towards the blazer.

stepping back, the orange flame turns into blue as more and more items are being engulfed. more and more items that identify you as ashfool or cinderella as people outside this screen called. stepping back and breathing in, you let a wide smile grace your face. eyes looking elsewhere as you see the windows illuminated with a light blue light coming from it as you approach one of them, seeing what happened to each and all of you.

you and beomgyu were talking about the trip you are taking at the end of the social season. the fairy godmother is now gone as you are only left with your glass slippers as a gift from her. but only one thing came into your mind when you remember a proposal he spoke to you a week before.

“my apologies, beomgyu. but i can’t marry you right now.”

beomgyu, with saddened eyes, gives a nod of acknowledgment as you return home to see your stepmother and stepsisters being taken away to face the court. beomgyu, after seeing how harsh they are to you in public, has helped you with the case and your inheritance. seeing your critter friends finished helping to tidy your house up to its old glory days after you are the only resident of the land that is rightfully yours, you pack your bags and leave the town for a while, remembering what beomgyu said to you when you rejected his proposal.

“i will wait for you when you are ready because a countess needs an earl beside her and a prince needs a princess beside him.”

you and beomgyu, on the other hand, celebrated your marriage at the castle as your father’s and mother’s recipes are being faithfully done by the chefs to serve in a banquet. knowing how beomgyu and you wanted freedom out of your own outside of palace duties, you both help run the tavern as the two of waiting for the turn where he and you become king and queen.

seeing your husband from behind the counter, you laugh as you see knights teasing him when he served the drinks. though you realized how awkward he used to be, he talks to you about how rebellious he was and how he always wants to blend into the streets of his own kingdom. even mentioning how he didn’t regret going to the tavern he heard his knights have talked about by overhearing them sooner.

you and beomgyu live a peaceful life after he let you move in into his apartment away from your stepmother and stepsisters after you told him and his parents. finishing your college task together as he prepared to take his place as the ceo while the money his parents gave to you helped you improve the cinema, making you able to hire people who also like movies and wants to help expose the world of cinema—making your parents’ dream into reality.

“what the hell was that ending?” beomgyu’s surprised face makes you giggle as you both finish watching the room. you nod your head as he faces you before saying, “that’s how terrible the movie is.”

you looked at how all of you found your happy endings one by one, with or without beomgyu. but the thing you realized is that you have the freedom to pick whatever ending you like and you can sense the calm of the certainty. that calmness helps you close your eyes as you think of nothing while everything is moving around.

everything you know is right to all of you whoever perceives it as so.

“hey, (y/n).” something is shaking your body as you woke up from the sofa you sit on.

you looked around you to the small apartment unit you are in as you see a boy your age wearing a uniform. an outfit you also wear. an outfit for a cinema worker.

looking down at the name tag on his torso, you learn the name of your co-worker and best friend sitting beside you.

beomgyu.

“yeah…?” you rub your face as you trace the streaks of moisture on your cheeks, turning your head to the window to meet the night sky after the time both of your shifts ended.

“if you’re tired, we can skip the movie night-“

“no, i’m fine.” you held onto his upper arm as his eyes met yours, glistening with sparkles and tears collected on the corners. beomgyu slowly rubs a tear away that is threatening to fall out before he opens disney+ on his laptop placed on the coffee table, feeling a rush of warmth going to your cheeks.

“what are we watching tonight?” you asked as you stretched your arms from the tight sleep you seem to have as beomgyu scrolled the homepage down before chuckling.

“cinderella.“

your highness…

lady (y/n).

the hooded man with tied hairs.

your mother would be so proud.

if you’re asking, my dad is a filmmaker and film connoisseur.

would you be my date for the charity ball?

your head shook as you asked, “wait, what’s cinderella?”

taglist: @endzii23 @msxflower @fluffyywoo @camipendragon @hiqhkey @wccycc @stayzentiny @rebsmoonn @boba-beom @feline4txt @ifwtyun @beomgyumineiro @fluffdiaree

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#happilyneveraftercollab #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt angst #txt fluff #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #rsc: ashen #cr: beomgyu #cs: txt #sc: regina #unreality #collaboration with the moon

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