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zaynessbeloved · 1 month ago

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The Bond remembers

Synopsis: You were only meant to be a life model—just another muse in Rafayel’s class. But when you touched his painting, something ancient stirred. Dreams followed: a glowing city beneath the sea, a violet-eyed god, a sacrifice made in the name of love. Now, the past is bleeding into the present. And neither of you can resist the pull of a bond that’s waited eight hundred years to return.

Content warnings: Soulmates, reincarnation, divine bond, immortal love, slow burn yearning, pining, memory awakening, Lemuria-inspired tale of past life sacrifice, first kisses, emotional, soulbonded sex—including grinding, oral, praise kink, body worship, and soft angst that heals as much as it hurts.

Pairings: Rafayel x reader

Word count: 16.8k

A/n: this fic is so special to me—I poured my whole heart into the bond, the yearning, the underwater dreams, and ALL the Rafayel soul-ache (his god of tides myth broke me). I really wanted to explore something slow, sacred, and emotional… with a touch (okay, a lot) of steamy intimacy too hehe. thank you for reading!!

You’re used to being looked at. Not in the way strangers leer on subways or the fleeting glances in crowded rooms. No, this is the quiet, calculated attention of artists—where every tilt of your chin, every arch of your spine, becomes something to be studied, understood, immortalized.

The art studio smells like charcoal dust and old wood varnish. The spotlight above you casts soft shadows along your skin, bathing you in that familiar warmth. Pencils scratch. Brushes drag. Someone sneezes. You barely move.

Then you feel it. A stare that lingers a little longer than the rest.

You don't know why it strikes you, but it does—like a thread being pulled taut across your collarbone. Your gaze flickers, subtle, and lands on him.

He’s not drawing. Not right now. His hands are still, resting over his sketchbook, fingertips lightly stained in colors that don’t belong to today’s palette. And his eyes—violet, no, more like twilight bruised with a hint of storm—are entirely fixed on you. Not your form. Not your pose. You.

You look away.

The session ends. The instructor claps, voices rise, stools scrape against the floor. You reach for the silk robe hanging nearby, slipping it over your shoulders as the cold air starts to bite. You’ve done this a hundred times. It’s routine. Predictable. So you’re not sure why you approach him this time.

“Your piece,” you say, feigning casual. “You looked… focused.”

He doesn’t look up right away, as if he's reluctant to let go of whatever spell he’d put himself under. But when he does, there’s a slow, knowing smile that curves his lips.

“You noticed.”

You shrug, the silk shifting against your skin. “Hard not to.”

He closes his sketchbook, stands. He's taller than you'd expected. “I didn’t finish it,” he says smoothly, brushing a faint streak of ochre from his wrist. “Not here, at least. I prefer to work where it’s quiet. Where things breathe.”

You blink. “Things?”

“Art. Memory. Obsession,” he adds, that smile widening slightly as he gestures toward the door. “Would you like to see it?”

You hesitate—half out of instinct, half out of surprise. But there’s something magnetic about him. Something veiled behind his poise, like danger dressed in velvet.

“…Sure.”

His studio is tucked in a quieter district, away from the city hum. The building is old, with high arched windows and white-washed brick. He walks ahead of you, unlocking the door with a key that glints under the moonlight. You step inside.

The air is cooler here. And quieter. Paintings line the walls—some abstract, others disturbingly real. But at the center of the room, draped beneath a white cloth, stands something tall. Almost human in shape.

You glance at him.

He says nothing, only watches as you step forward, fingers brushing the edge of the veil.

You pull.

And there you are.

No… not quite. Marble. Cold. Eternal. But your expression. Your body. The tilt of your lips caught mid-thought. The way your fingers rest against your thigh just like they had earlier.

You gasp—quietly. Breath stolen.

“You��this is…”

“Not what you expected?” His voice is low now, like the final stroke of a bow across a cello string. “I didn’t want to capture what everyone else saw.”

He’s beside you now, but not touching. Not yet.

“I wanted to carve what I saw.”

You stand frozen, staring into the marble eyes of yourself. It's not just the accuracy that unsettles you—it’s the way it feels like she's watching you back.

Your marble double is beautiful, yes, but there’s vulnerability carved into her lips, strength in the tension of her shoulders. Like you’d been captured in the exact moment your thoughts had strayed—just before the end of the session. How did he know?

You don’t realize how long you’ve been silent until you hear the soft shift of his coat as Rafayel steps closer behind you.

“I thought you might run,” he says, voice smooth, low, and almost amused.

You glance over your shoulder. “Should I?”

He tilts his head slightly, a few purple strands falling into his eyes. “You tell me. You’re the one standing face-to-face with your own ghost.”

You huff out a quiet laugh, breathless. “It’s not a ghost.”

“No,” he agrees, moving to your side, his hand barely brushing the edge of the pedestal as he circles it with a kind of reverent attention. “It’s a moment. Suspended forever. Just for me.”

You swallow. “That’s a little intense.”

He hums. “Oh, cutie, I’ve been called worse.”

There it is—that lilt in his voice. Playful. Velveted and dangerous. And suddenly you feel it again—that strange heat blooming low in your chest, curling under your ribs. It doesn’t feel threatening. Just… unexpected.

You shift your eyes back to the statue, trying to compose yourself. “You really made all this… from memory?”

“Of course.” His tone softens, as if the answer should’ve been obvious. “I don’t need a photograph to remember how your collarbone caught the light. Or the way your fingers twitched when you were trying not to shiver. I remember all of it.”

You go still again, pulse thudding in your throat. He isn’t teasing anymore. Not fully.

“…Why me?” you ask, voice quieter now. “There were a dozen models in the academy files. Some who’ve done this for years.”

He steps closer, and when he speaks next, it’s not playful—it’s precise.

“Because you don’t flinch when people look at you,” Rafayel murmurs. “But you do when someone sees you.”

You meet his eyes then, caught in a silence that says more than either of you is ready to admit.

And yet—he leans in, ever so slightly, and adds with that crooked smirk returning, “Besides… I don’t think the others would’ve let me get away with sculpting that dimple just right.”

You laugh—actually laugh this time—and the tension crackles, not with discomfort, but something almost magnetic. The kind of static you feel right before a storm.

He turns then, breaking the moment, and gestures toward a dark curtain tucked into the far corner of the studio. “Want to see the rest?”

You blink. “There’s more?”

“Oh, cutie…” He tosses you a glance over his shoulder, that spark unmistakable in his eyes. “You’ve barely seen the beginning.”

You follow Rafayel through the studio, brushing past the heavy curtain as he pulls it aside with a lazy flick of his wrist. The space behind it is smaller, dimmer, lit only by scattered floor lamps and soft light pouring in from a tall, arched window. The air smells faintly of turpentine, dried roses, and something else you can’t name. Something sharper.

You weren’t expecting this.

The walls are lined with canvases—some finished, some half-covered with strokes and smudges of color. There’s a narrow table covered in sketchbooks, loose pages, and clay fragments. You take one step inside and then another, until your breath catches in your throat.

There’s you. Again.

But not in marble.

Paintings. Sketches. Charcoal etchings. Miniature sculptures in rough, beautiful progress.

You blink, stunned.

“I—wow,” you murmur, hand lifting on instinct but stopping just short of touching one of the canvases. Your painted self sits on a chair, sunlight sliding down your bare shoulder, hair falling loose around your face. In another, you’re half-turned, caught mid-laugh—something he never would’ve seen from the platform. Not unless…

“You watched me when I wasn’t posing.”

Rafayel doesn’t deny it.

He leans casually against the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable save for the slow tilt of his head. “You were always more interesting between the poses.”

You laugh under your breath, unsure if you’re flattered or unnerved. Maybe a little of both. “You had time to do all this?”

“You modeled for the entire semester,” he says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. “I’m a fast worker. When I’m… inspired.”

You glance around again. There are easily a dozen versions of you here—each one different. Each one seen through his eyes.

“I didn’t know I was that inspiring.”

“You didn’t know,” he echoes, pushing off the wall now and walking toward you with a lazy grace. “That’s what made it so addictive.”

You glance over at him, heart thudding a little harder in your chest. “You sound like a man with a problem.”

He smiles. “Oh, I am. But I’m not in a rush to fix it.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you take the chance to breathe—slowly, evenly. You think back to how this all started.

You’d signed up to be a life model on a whim. It was good money, flexible hours, and easy enough work if you could sit still for long stretches of time. You never expected to enjoy it. But there was something about being seen through an artist’s lens that made you feel like more than just skin and bone. You became texture. Shadow. Light.

Rafayel had been one of the quieter students in the class. Never asked questions. Never joked around with the others. He showed up late sometimes, left even later. But his eyes… they were always on you. Focused. Sharpened like a blade in water.

And now, standing here among the pieces he’d carved and painted in secret, you realize— Maybe he hadn’t been sketching you like the others had. Maybe he’d been studying you.

You look back at him now, and say, almost too softly, “I never thought I’d be a muse.”

He steps closer, close enough that you can smell the faint traces of clay and paint on his clothes, on his skin. “You were never just a muse.”

You raise a brow. “No?”

His gaze drops—first to your mouth, then to the dip of your throat, before lifting again. “You were the thing I couldn’t get out of my head.”

The words strike something deep in you. It’s not even what he says, but how he says it—like it was inevitable. Like he’d already resigned himself to it long ago.

You should leave. That would be the logical thing to do.

But instead, you ask, “And now that the semester’s over?”

He leans in just a touch, one hand lifting to gently brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers are cool from the clay. His smile? Absolutely sinful.

“Now,” he murmurs, “I get to sculpt you from memory.”

You don’t move away from his touch—not when his fingers ghost behind your ear, not when they linger for just a second too long. Instead, you tilt your head slightly and meet his gaze. Steady. Searching.

“You say that like I’ll disappear,” you murmur. “Like one day, I’ll just… fade out of your mind.”

Rafayel lets out a soft exhale—part laugh, part something else. “Oh, cutie. If only I could be that lucky.”

You raise a brow. “Lucky?”

He steps past you then, glancing down at the statue once more. His voice shifts—quieter now, thoughtful. “You think it’s lucky, remembering everything? Every line, every glance, every pause you took between breaths?”

You watch him as he brushes his fingers along the edge of one canvas, his movements delicate, reverent. There’s something in his voice that makes your skin prickle—not just flattery, but the sharp edges of something deeper. Obsession, maybe. Or something far more dangerous.

“You don’t forget anything?” you ask softly.

He glances back at you. That smirk returns, but it’s tempered by something real beneath it. “Not when it matters.”

And suddenly, you find yourself smiling. A slow, curious smile that edges toward something bolder. “Still…” You walk closer, deliberately slow, and come to a stop just in front of him. “If your memory ever fails you—and I’m not saying it will—but if it does…”

He arches a brow. “Yes?”

“…You could always ask me to model again.”

There’s a pause. One heartbeat. Two.

And then he laughs��low, rich, and surprisingly warm. “Are you offering?”

You shrug, casual. Teasing. “You do have all the lighting equipment already. And I wouldn’t want your next masterpiece to be inaccurate.”

“Ah,” he hums, circling you now like you’re already on the pedestal, “so generous. Offering your time, your form, your presence. Truly, my muse is merciful.”

You roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted. “Don’t get used to the praise.”

“I don’t need to,” Rafayel says, stopping just behind you again. His voice lowers, brushing against the shell of your ear. “I already carved it into stone.”

The words settle deep in your chest—too intimate, too serious, too... him.

You’re quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the works around you again, until your voice slips out, softer than before. “Do you do this often?”

He doesn't answer right away.

When he does, his voice is distant, like he's remembering something from far away. “No.”

Just that. A single word. Honest. Heavy.

You glance at him, this time really looking. Behind the velvet charm and practiced poise, there’s something guarded in his expression—like there are doors he keeps locked tight, even as he offers you the keyhole to peer through.

“So what made you do it this time?” you ask, your tone barely a whisper.

He looks at you, then. Really looks.

“I don’t know,” Rafayel admits, lips curving into something almost rueful. “Maybe I saw you before I ever knew your name. Maybe I just wanted to remember what it felt like to want something I couldn’t quite touch.”

You swallow, heart fluttering in your chest like wings against a glass cage. He isn’t just playing anymore. Not entirely.

And you? You should be afraid of how deeply he’s seen you. But instead, all you can think is— What else is he hiding in this studio? And why does part of you want to be the one to find it?

Your fingers trail lightly across the edge of one of the canvases—this one smaller than the rest, no more than the size of a dinner plate, but framed in silver. It doesn’t quite match the others. It’s abstract, layered with swirling, iridescent hues that shimmer like oil over water. The colors shift the longer you look, bleeding from violet to blue to a shade that doesn’t quite exist in the normal spectrum.

And then—a pulse.

It’s faint. Like a heartbeat caught beneath the canvas.

You snatch your hand back instinctively.

“What was that?” you murmur, frowning slightly. Your eyes flick to Rafayel, who’s now quietly watching you from across the room. His arms are crossed loosely, expression unreadable—but there’s a twitch at the corner of his lips.

He shrugs, lazy and amused. “Sensitive, aren’t you?”

“I’m serious.” You glance back at the painting, hand still hovering just above it. “It… moved.”

“Did it?” he drawls, wandering over now with that slow, predatory grace he seems to wear so effortlessly. “Maybe the studio’s just messing with your head. Happens sometimes. Low lighting, late night, a mysterious artist with questionable morals—” he taps his chin theatrically—“Classic cocktail for hallucinations.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That’s not funny.”

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was going for enigmatic. Did it work?”

You give him a dry look, but there’s a flutter of unease in your chest. Not fear—more like your instincts whispering, something’s not quite right here.

Your gaze drifts back to the painting. The colors shimmer again, but softer this time. Gentle. Luring.

“…What did you use to paint this?”

He lifts a brow, and this time his smile shifts—just a flicker tighter. “Trade secret.”

Your lips part, but before you can press further, he closes the gap between you. “Come on, cutie. You’ve seen my secrets. Let me keep a few.”

You hesitate—but his voice is velvet, and his presence overwhelming, like the painting itself. Warm, close, disarming. Distracting.

Still, your gaze lingers on the painting one second longer.

It did pulse. And your skin still tingles faintly where you touched it.

You step back, breaking eye contact with the canvas. “…Fine. Keep your little secrets, artist boy.”

He smirks, clearly victorious. “Thank you. I promise they’re all very harmless.”

You eye him. “That’s exactly what someone with very harmful secrets would say.”

Rafayel lets out a soft, theatrical sigh. “You're impossible.”

“And you’re not nearly as subtle as you think.”

But even as you say it, you catch the gleam in his eyes—a flicker of something deep, unspoken, ancient.

And you wonder—not for the first time tonight—just how much of him is artifice… and how much is something else entirely.

You should probably leave. That would be the smart thing to do. But your feet don’t move.

Not when he’s looking at you like that—head tilted, violet-pink eyes half-lidded, like he’s measuring something unseen. The room still hums faintly, thick with the scent of mineral dust and paint thinner. The pulse of that strange painting seems to echo in your fingertips even now, long after you stepped away.

“You’re still curious,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m not denying it,” you murmur.

He moves then, sweeping past you toward the far end of the studio. A large sheet rests over something draped in shadow—another canvas? A sculpture? It’s hard to tell.

He stops, turns to glance at you over his shoulder. “I’ve been working on something new,” he says, voice smooth as wine. “It isn’t finished, but…” He steps aside and lifts the sheet away with a slow, elegant motion.

It’s a painting—tall, vertical, and haunting.

You.

But not like the others. Not posed. Not serene.

This one is raw—your expression caught in mid-thought, lips parted as if about to speak, hair slightly mussed, something stormy in your eyes. It doesn’t feel like a portrait. It feels like an argument. A secret. A confession you didn’t know you made.

You stare. “That’s not how I looked in class.”

“I know.” Rafayel leans one shoulder against the wall beside the canvas, watching you. “That one’s from memory too. But a different kind of memory.”

You glance at him. “When did you see me like this?”

He shrugs. “Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I imagined you this way. Wanted to see you like this.”

You exhale slowly. He’s toying with you again, as always—but something in your chest flutters, caught between intrigue and tension. “You’re impossible to read.”

He grins. “Good.”

You turn back to the painting, letting the silence settle between you again. There’s something about this piece that pulls at you in a way the others didn’t. You don’t feel like a muse here. You feel like something else—like he painted what you hide even from yourself.

“…Do you want to sit again?” His voice breaks the stillness.

You glance at him.

He nods to the chair near the easel—closer than the platform in the academy. Much closer.

His expression is casual, but his eyes? They gleam.

“I have a few hours,” he says lightly. “If you’re brave enough.”

You hesitate for only a heartbeat. Then you move toward the chair, dragging it a little closer to the light, the hum of the room still buzzing faintly in your bones. You sit, heart ticking a little faster, but your posture relaxed.

You meet his gaze head-on. “Alright. Show me what you see.”

Rafayel smiles, slow and satisfied, as he lifts his brush.

“Gladly.”

The chair creaks softly as you shift into it, smoothing your hands along your thighs—suddenly hyperaware of your posture, the slope of your shoulders, the angle of your neck. You’ve done this before, countless times under the sharp gaze of students and instructors. But this time, it feels different.

This time, he’s closer.

Rafayel stands only a few feet away, sketchpad balanced loosely in one hand, charcoal stick in the other. The dim, amber glow of the studio lamp halos him in warmth, but his focus is sharp—eyes narrowed slightly, expression unreadable.

You hold still.

Not because he told you to—but because somehow, you want to.

The scratch of charcoal fills the silence, soft and rhythmic. You watch the way his wrist moves, fluid and precise. His eyes flick up to meet yours, then back down. Again. Again. Every glance is deliberate. Each line he draws is a secret he’s pulling from you without permission.

You clear your throat. “Do you always draw this close?”

He doesn’t look up. “Only when the subject is interesting.”

Your brow lifts. “And am I interesting because I sit still well, or because you’ve made an art gallery of me in the back of your studio?”

That earns a soft chuckle from him—a real one, low and warm. “Neither. You’re interesting because you’re still trying to figure out if you like being seen.”

Your lips part, but the words don’t come. He’s not wrong. You’ve always worn your calm like armor in these sessions—but Rafayel sees through it, and you don’t know how to stop him.

You shift slightly, just enough for your knee to brush the edge of the lamp’s glow. “What about you?” you ask. “You act like someone who enjoys the attention, but you keep everything else locked up.”

He glances up this time, and for a second—just a second—something flickers in his eyes. Something colder. Older.

“Maybe I do both,” he murmurs. “Maybe I want someone to look close enough to ask.”

You meet his gaze, and neither of you looks away.

“…So?” you ask softly. “What are you drawing now?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flick to your mouth. Your hands. The curve of your jaw. Then he says:

“The way you sit when you think no one’s watching. The way you try to hide the fact that you’re intrigued.”

You blink. “That’s not very objective.”

He smirks. “Who said I was going for objectivity?”

You exhale, letting your gaze wander across the scattered canvases and sketches that surround you both. The studio feels like its own world now—removed from the streets below, the sounds of the city, the weight of normal life. Here, there’s only this strange rhythm between you.

You tilt your head, eyes returning to his. “How long have you had… whatever this is?” You gesture vaguely toward the paintings. “The obsession.”

He hums, dragging the charcoal in a soft curve across the page. “Since the first session, probably. You didn’t look away when I stared. Most people flinch. You didn’t.”

You smile faintly. “Maybe I wanted to be seen.”

He pauses, then looks up, slower this time. His voice is quieter when he speaks next.

“Then you should be careful,” he murmurs, “because I don’t just look, cutie. I remember. I keep.”

Your breath catches—not from fear, but from the weight behind those words. The intimacy in them.

You sit in stillness again, pulse steady but a little too loud in your ears.

And across from you, Rafayel draws.

The charcoal moves again. Slow, deliberate. You don’t speak for a moment, letting the quiet settle around you like mist.

Your hand drifts idly to the edge of the table beside the chair, fingers brushing across splattered wood and scattered graphite stubs. You’re not really thinking about it—until your skin skims something slick and strangely warm.

You flinch.

Not from pain. Not from fear.

Just—wrong.

Your fingers jerk back, and for a second, the edges of your vision blur—like the room shifted, just slightly out of alignment.

You blink. Once. Twice.

Something buzzes faintly at the back of your mind, like a note played on a frequency just out of reach.

Rafayel pauses.

You look toward the doorway—the curtain still drawn back from earlier. The painting. The small one with the impossible colors.

It’s glowing.

Faintly. Softly. But unmistakably.

The swirling shades now pulse gently, like the slow rhythm of a sleeping heartbeat. Not steady. Not quite natural. The light ripples across the studio walls, reflecting off silver frames and casting strange shadows behind Rafayel’s silhouette.

You stand slowly, not taking your eyes off it. “It’s doing it again.”

Rafayel doesn’t move. His head tilts slightly, one brow raising. He watches you, not the painting.

“You’re not screaming,” he says, voice low, thoughtful.

“No.”

“You’re not running either.”

You glance at him, jaw tightening. “Should I be?”

He smiles, but there’s something else behind it now. Something deeper. Interested. “Most would’ve broken the door down by now.”

You look back at the painting. That shimmering glow calls to something deep in your chest, strange but not unwelcome. Like a dream you can’t remember but know you’ve had.

“What is that?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he stands, setting his sketchpad down carefully on the table. Then, slowly, he walks to your side, eyes never leaving your face.

“It’s made with a pigment you can’t find on the surface,” he says at last, voice almost too casual. “Coral stone. Grows in deep ocean pressure, where light folds in on itself. Very rare.”

You glance at him. “And the pulsing?”

“Side effect. The material’s… reactive.” His tone is deliberately vague.

“To what?”

He leans in slightly, head tilted as he studies your expression. “That’s the interesting part.”

You stare at him, heart thudding, the air now humming softly around you. “It reacted to me.”

“Yes.” His smile stretches. “And you’re still standing here. Still looking.”

There’s a beat of silence. Long. Charged.

You don’t know what he’s expecting from you now—fear, maybe. Or retreat. But all you feel is a slow-burning fire in your chest, drawn by the pull of something unknown. Him. This place. The strange materials he works with. The secrets layered beneath his art.

“…Is it dangerous?” you ask.

“Only if you try to understand it too fast,” he replies. Then adds, with a slow, playful drawl, “Like me.”

You look up at him, eyes narrowed, heart steady.

“Maybe I like puzzles.”

Rafayel grins then—sharp, amused, intrigued in a way that feels far more dangerous than anything glowing behind a curtain.

“Well, cutie,” he says, “in that case… welcome to the deep end.”

You take a step toward the painting.

Rafayel doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t say anything at all. He just watches, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly like he’s holding in something unspoken.

The canvas pulses again—soft waves of color folding into one another, blooming and collapsing like a living thing caught in rhythm with your heartbeat. You hesitate just before your fingers reach it.

“Should I?” you ask.

His response is so quiet you almost miss it.

“…If you want the truth, cutie, you should probably turn around and go home.”

You glance back at him, eyes sharp. “But if I want the interesting answer?”

He gives a soft, velveted laugh. “Then touch it.”

So you do.

Your fingertips graze the painted surface—and the world tilts.

Color surges beneath your skin, blooming through your veins like warm lightning. The room swims. Not violently—more like the sensation of being pulled underwater without drowning. Shapes swirl at the edge of your vision, fractals folding into memories you’ve never had. You see light refracting in deep sea currents. Hear whispers in a language that doesn't exist. The hum becomes music.

It doesn’t hurt. But it changes you—just for a breath.

And behind you—something shifts.

You whip around, breath catching in your throat.

Rafayel is standing still, but the air around him ripples—just once. Like gravity bent sideways. Like the studio itself responded to your touch.

His eyes glow faintly—violet brightening into a glassy, inhuman shimmer. His hair drifts slightly, as if underwater, and for a heartbeat, the shadows on the walls crawl inward, drawn to him like a tide responding to the moon.

Then it all vanishes. A blink—and he’s just Rafayel again.

But your heart is pounding now. “That was—”

He doesn’t let you finish.

“Side effect,” he says smoothly. Too smoothly.

You blink at him. “You reacted.”

He lifts a brow, expression unreadable. “Did I?”

“Yes.” You step toward him now, breathless but steady. “That was your Evol, wasn’t it?”

Another pause.

Then—finally—he speaks. “You’re not supposed to see that. Not yet.”

“But I did.”

He sighs through his nose, almost amused, almost annoyed. “And yet here you are. Still not screaming.”

“I told you,” you murmur. “I like puzzles.”

He studies you again—really studies you. You expect him to retreat behind one of his deflections, the playful teasing or velvet charm.

But this time, he doesn’t.

He just says, quietly:

“You touched something that should’ve cracked your mind wide open… and you’re still standing. Still you.”

You swallow, pulse thudding in your neck. “Should I be afraid?”

Rafayel’s expression softens just slightly, though something ancient still lingers behind his eyes. “Maybe. But I’m starting to think you’re the kind of girl who’d smile with a knife in her hand.”

You laugh—soft, uncertain. “What does that make you?”

He steps close. Just close enough for his voice to drop again, low and rich. “A very willing volunteer.”

The studio feels different now.

Not just in atmosphere—but in weight. Like the air between you and Rafayel has thickened with something older, heavier. Unspoken things shift just below the surface.

He’s still watching you—not with playful interest this time, but something else. Something sharper. Ancient.

You cross your arms, trying to steady your breath. “You said I wasn’t supposed to see that yet.”

“I did.” His voice is quiet now, velvet-dark. “But it’s not the first time you’ve done something you weren’t supposed to.”

Your brow furrows. “That sounds like more than just tonight.”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. “Maybe it is.”

You pause, searching his face. That unreadable look in his eyes isn’t unfamiliar—but tonight, it feels less like a mask and more like a lock. One you’re finally finding the edges to.

“…Tell me,” you say.

He lifts a brow, amused. “Tell you what?”

“The truth.”

There’s a silence then. Long. Intentional. His fingers trail along the edge of the sketchpad, absently picking up the charcoal again, as if drawing gives him something to anchor to.

Finally, he speaks.

“There are stories,” he says, “about how the soul remembers what the mind forgets. That even when time folds in on itself, there are things we carry forward—things that find us again.”

You tilt your head. “Are we talking about art now, or something else?”

Rafayel’s gaze lifts to meet yours—and it’s too much. Like looking through centuries all layered behind violet eyes. He smiles, but it’s the kind that doesn’t quite reach the surface.

“I don’t know yet.”

That throws you.

“You don’t know… what?”

“If you’re real,” he says. “If this is real.”

You blink. “I’m right in front of you.”

“I know. And yet, the last time I saw your face…” He stops himself, eyes narrowing slightly, as though something painful brushes the edge of his memory. “You were dying in my arms.”

Your mouth goes dry. “What?”

He watches you. Measuring. Waiting.

“…I think I knew you once,” he says, barely audible. “Long before this. Long before now. But I don’t know if you’re her. Or just another face I want to believe in.”

You take a slow breath, pulse hammering. “You think I’m someone who… died?”

“Not just someone.” His voice is a whisper now. “The only person who ever made me want to stay.”

That silences you.

He steps closer, but not too close—like he’s afraid getting near might break the spell. “So you see… when you touched that painting, and you didn’t break, didn’t crack—I had to wonder.”

You meet his gaze, heart racing. “Wonder what?”

“If your soul remembers mine.”

The silence that follows is thick enough to drown in. You don’t speak, don’t move. Because suddenly you understand why he’s been watching you all semester. Why he sculpted you from memory. Why he seems pulled to you—not with infatuation, but with recognition.

You’re a puzzle he hasn’t solved in 800 years.

“…And if I’m not her?” you ask, voice barely a whisper.

Rafayel’s eyes dim slightly, but the softness never fades. “Then I’ll still paint you until my hands forget how.”

His words hang in the air like smoke:

Your heart is a wild, fluttering thing in your chest, trying to make sense of a weight that doesn’t belong to this life. Of a name unspoken, a rainstorm long gone, a dying moment that shouldn't exist in your memories—and yet something stirs.

But before you can reach for it— Rafayel steps back.

The motion is quiet, gentle. Not rejection. Something else. Like he’s pulling a curtain shut over a window that should never have been opened.

“That’s enough,” he says softly.

You blink. “What?”

His eyes lower, lashes casting shadows across his cheekbones. “If we go any deeper… I don’t think either of us will come back the same.”

You hesitate. “Isn’t that the point?”

He lets out a slow breath, then meets your gaze with something raw behind his usual teasing exterior. It’s not fear. It’s not disinterest. It’s care. Restraint forged in the fire of something ancient.

“I’ve waited too long to get this wrong,” he says.

You fall silent.

It hits you then—this isn’t just intrigue to him. This isn’t flirtation or artistic obsession. It’s something sacred. The way someone might cradle a long-lost melody at the edge of memory, too afraid that humming it aloud will ruin it forever.

He looks down at the sketchpad—still open, lines half-formed.

He closes it.

“I’ll walk you out.”

You don’t argue. Don’t push.

But as he leads you to the studio door, your hand trails along the edge of the curtain again. The painting behind it hums faintly, still pulsing like a distant heartbeat. Waiting.

You glance back at him one last time.

Rafayel catches your eyes, and though his expression is calm, you can feel it. The storm hasn’t passed. It’s only been postponed.

--------------------------

Three weeks.

That’s how long it’s been since you left Rafayel’s studio—since you touched that painting, felt something move beneath your skin, and saw his eyes burn with light not meant for this world.

Winter break came like a snowstorm that buried everything. The city slowed. The academy emptied. And for a while, you told yourself it had all been a trick of the light. Stress. Exhaustion. A beautiful artist and his strange materials.

But it didn’t go away.

From the moment your fingers touched that coral pigment, something inside you began to stir.

It started small—barely noticeable. A flicker of déjà vu when you passed by deep water. The whisper of a name you didn’t know on the edge of dreams. But the dreams…

The dreams were different.

You saw a city of glass and coral, spiraling towers bathed in soft blue light, luminous creatures drifting through vaulted domes. You saw him. Rafayel—but not as he is now. His hair flowed like liquid starlight, his eyes glowed brighter than the surface sun, and the sea bowed to his will. You saw yourself too—kneeling in shallow water, trembling as golden hands touched your face with reverence.

In one dream, they tried to take your heart. You remember the blade. You remember his voice, shaking as he said no.

And you remember the feeling of falling into his arms as he chose you—over them.

You wake up each time with your heart in your throat, your sheets damp with cold sweat, whispering his name into the dark.

--------------------

The semester starts again.

The halls of the academy buzz back to life, laughter and boots crunching ice into slush. Students carry portfolios and half-finished canvases under their arms. But you? You find yourself in front of the model roster sheet again, pen hovering.

You don’t even hesitate.

You write your name down under his class.

You tell yourself it’s for the money, the familiarity. Routine.

But when you walk into the room that first day, and see him at the far end of the studio—his back turned, sleeves rolled up, brushing powder onto a canvas with long, elegant fingers—your chest clenches.

You feel it. Like gravity pulling toward the sea.

Rafayel turns. And when he sees you—his expression doesn’t shift.

But his eyes do.

A flicker. A pause. Like he’s been waiting for this.

You don’t speak. Neither does he. But the moment stretches between you like a thread pulled tight through time.

And the soul in your chest begins to remember.

-------------

Class ends.

The students begin to gather their things—brushes clattering into tins, sketchbooks snapping shut, chairs scraping across the floor. Someone laughs near the back, muffled behind their scarf. The air smells faintly of varnish and cold.

But you don’t move.

You watch him.

Rafayel closes his sketchpad with a quiet, final motion. He doesn’t look at you—not yet. He’s already halfway to the door, coat slung lazily over one shoulder, hair loose, untied. Like nothing happened. Like he hasn’t haunted your dreams for twenty-one days straight.

Like he wasn’t holding you in the depths of a forgotten world—choosing you over everything he was meant to protect.

Your voice rises before you can stop it.

“Wait.”

He freezes. One hand still on the doorframe.

Slowly, he turns. Violet eyes meet yours, unreadable. Calm. Too calm.

“Yes?” he asks, as if nothing’s changed.

But you see it—the flicker behind his gaze. A flash of recognition. And something else, too. Restraint.

You take a breath. Step forward.

“Don’t go.”

That catches him.

His brows lift, just slightly. He turns fully now, facing you. There’s a beat of silence where neither of you moves. The others file out behind you, unaware. Unimportant. The world shrinks to the space between you and him.

“You came after me,” Rafayel says softly, almost to himself. “Of course you did.”

Your throat tightens.

“Something’s been… happening. Since that night,” you say. “Since I touched the painting.”

He doesn’t interrupt. He watches. He waits.

“I didn’t think it was real,” you go on. “But then I started dreaming. Or remembering. I don’t even know which it is.” You shake your head, breath catching. “You were there. Not as you are now. You were…”

“…More,” he finishes, quiet.

You nod.

“And I was…” You swallow. “I think I was meant to die. But you stopped it. You saved me.”

His eyes close. Just for a moment. Like your words strike a place he’s been guarding too tightly for too long.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” you whisper.

Silence.

Then—his voice, soft and steady:

“…You remembered.”

Something in your chest folds inward at the way he says it. Like it matters. Like it changes everything.

You search his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wasn’t sure,” he says. “And I didn’t want to force it. If you were her, you would feel it in time. If you weren’t…” His jaw tenses. “I didn’t want to break you chasing a ghost.”

“But I’m not broken,” you say, stepping closer. “I’m still here.”

His breath catches—just slightly. And you swear, in that moment, the air shifts. Like the ocean, rising behind his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be,” he says, almost in wonder. “Not again.”

You reach for him. Not with your hands. Not yet. Just with your voice. Your presence. The truth you’re not afraid to look at anymore.

“Then maybe we were never meant to forget.”

You wait—for him to reach for you. To say something more. To close the space between your bodies the way your souls already have.

But he doesn’t move.

Rafayel stands there, barely a foot away, and yet there’s a wall between you. Not one made of distance or doubt—but of memory. Of fear. Of something ancient and fragile, breaking open again.

His hand twitches at his side, fingers curling faintly. You catch the motion. He wanted to touch you. He stopped himself.

“Why won’t you say it?” you ask softly. “Why won’t you let this be real?”

He meets your gaze, and gods, his eyes—there’s a whole world inside them. A depth you’ve seen only in dreams and drowning.

“Because the last time I did,” he says, voice barely audible, “I lost you.”

The words hit like a wave to the chest.

You don’t remember how. Not clearly. The dream ends in his arms, in the choice he made to protect you. But after that—nothing.

Just a pressure in your ribs. A cold that clings to your bones. A final heartbeat, echoing in his silence.

Still, you don’t ask. You don’t need to.

Because even now, standing before him in this studio full of light and pigment and breath—you can feel it. The pain. The love. The unspoken ache buried so deep in him that he’s sculpted you again and again just to survive it.

And somehow… so have you.

“I don’t remember everything,” you murmur. “I don’t know the names or the place or the time. But I feel it.”

You step forward, slowly.

“I feel you.”

His jaw tightens. His eyes burn. Still, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t reach.

And it hurts, the way he holds himself back. Not out of cruelty. But reverence. Like you’re a flame he already burned himself on once.

“I want to remember,” you say. “But even if I never do—I still choose you.”

His breath falters.

Something shifts in the room. Not big. Not loud. Just the faintest tremor beneath your feet. A hum in the floorboards. In the air.

His Evol. His soul. You don’t know.

But he does. He feels it too.

“You don’t understand what that means,” he says, voice rough now. “What it costs.”

“Maybe not yet,” you whisper, “but I understand what it feels like.”

His eyes close. One slow breath. And when they open again, there’s something soft in him. A crack in the marble.

He doesn’t touch you. But his voice reaches you anyway.

“Not yet,” he says. “If you’re really her… this time, I’ll wait.”

And you nod.

Because you understand. Because this time—it’s him who’s afraid to lose you.

--------------------

It starts the same way it always does—cold.

The weight of water presses in around you, dark and endless. Your limbs move slow, your chest burns. You're drowning, sinking toward a seabed that glows faintly with bioluminescent vines. Your dress fans around you like seafoam. You know this place. You’ve been here before.

You look up.

And then—he’s there.

A figure gliding through the currents like gravity doesn’t apply to him. Hair like flowing starlight. Eyes like amethyst struck by lightning. He reaches you just as your vision begins to blur.

He cradles your face in both hands, and you remember this part—the fear, the pleading, the way you mouthed “please” even as your lungs gave out.

You didn’t know what you were asking for.

You didn’t know what it meant.

But still, you kissed him.

A desperate, breathless thing—your lips pressed to his in the dark as your heart sputtered its last beat. And instead of death— You breathed.

The kiss lit your chest with warmth. Not fire. Not air. Something older. Your eyes flew open underwater.

And you weren’t dying anymore.

He held you close, his forehead pressed to yours, and when you looked at him again, something had changed behind his eyes. Something vast. And sacred.

The bond had been made.

Not with words. But with the kiss.

The unspoken offering. The soul deep vow.

You became his follower. His chosen. His beloved.

You were only human—but in that moment, your soul was marked with the sea. Claimed by a god who didn’t yet know the price of it.

The dream shifts. Fractures.

You see the temple now—carved of pearl and obsidian. Lemuria, luminous and ancient. The central flame of the sea god ceremony burns in a great sphere above a blackened altar. The people bow. They chant.

You stand in the center, trembling. Rafayel stands beside you, lips pale. Silent.

He’s been told what must happen. He has been given the blade.

Your heart is needed to sustain the fire. Your heart, bound to his.

You remember the way he looked at the high priest. The way his fingers refused to close around the handle. You remember the way the entire sea trembled when he said no.

And then—his power unraveled.

The light of Lemuria flickered. The waters darkened. The fire went out.

You remember the way his arms wrapped around you again—just like the first time.

You remember whispering, “You chose me.”

And him replying, brokenly:

“Always.”

And still, somehow… you died.

You wake in the dark, gasping. Salt on your tongue. The echo of his kiss still burning your lips.

You touch your chest—right over your heart. It’s whole. It’s yours. But it remembers.

The dream returns like a memory you never meant to forget. You’re underwater again—but this time, you’re not drowning.

You’re breathing.

The world around you is impossibly still. Pale coral arches reach above your head like the bones of a cathedral, glowing with soft blue light. Strange flowers drift on unseen currents, petals fluttering like wings. Fish made of shimmer and shadow pass by in slow spirals. It's quiet. Sacred.

And you’re not alone.

Rafayel is nearby, watching you with something unreadable in his eyes. Not the reverent awe from the ceremony. Not the pained hesitation. This is something gentler. Curious.

He stands barefoot on the stone, hair floating around his shoulders like silk in the current. His robes are darker here, marked with shifting patterns that seem to move when you look too long.

You float a little clumsily in front of him, trying to adjust to this strange new weightlessness.

“I thought I was dead,” you murmur, your voice somehow carried clearly through the water.

“You were,” he says, gaze never leaving yours. “Until you chose otherwise.”

You swallow. “I didn’t know what I was choosing.”

“No,” he says softly. “But you meant it anyway.”

You’re not sure what to say to that.

He doesn’t press.

Instead, he moves toward you—slow and fluid, like he’s always belonged to this world and you’re only just being invited in. His hand reaches out, not to touch, but to hover near your cheek.

“Does it frighten you?” he asks. “Being here?”

You think about it. Then shake your head.

“It should,” you admit. “But it doesn’t.”

His smile is faint—barely there. “You’re strange for a surface-dweller.”

“You’re strange for a god.”

That makes something behind his eyes flicker. Not offense. Amusement. Maybe even affection.

You spend what feels like hours in that place. Days, maybe. Time doesn’t move here like it does above.

He shows you Lemuria not as a ruler, but as a guide. A hidden garden of crystal reeds that sing when touched. A cave where ancient murals tell stories in light. A forgotten chamber where fire dances in airless flame.

He walks beside you.

Listens when you speak.

Watches when you laugh, like he’s memorizing the sound.

You learn him slowly.

How his powers respond to emotion. How he carries the weight of his people even when no one is watching. How he hides pain behind poetry and sharpness.

And he learns you.

How you hum when you think. How you press your hand to your chest when something stirs too deeply. How you’re always looking up—even underwater—like you're still searching for the stars.

You never touch. Not yet.

But one night, you sit side by side on a stone ledge beneath a glowing coral arch, legs drifting just above the sea floor.

And when he speaks, his voice is quieter than it’s ever been.

“Once the ceremony begins, I won’t be the same.”

You turn to him. “What do you mean?”

His eyes search yours like he’s trying to decide whether to lie.

Then: “A part of me must burn to keep Lemuria alive. It’s always been this way.”

You nod slowly. “And what about me?”

He looks away. That silence is your answer.

You don’t understand yet.

But you feel it.

Something terrible is coming.

But you also feel this: The way he leans just slightly toward you, like he’s afraid of breaking something holy. The way your bond tugs at your soul, even before either of you speaks its name.

And before the dream ends, you whisper the words you won’t remember come morning.

“I’m not afraid of the fire. Only of losing you in it.”

-----------------------

The dream begins in silence.

Not the silence of fear or sorrow—but the heavy, sacred quiet that comes just before something ends.

You’re with him again.

It’s the night before the ceremony.

The air in Lemuria glows low with golden biolight. The current is still. Even the reefs seem to hold their breath. Somewhere beyond the palace walls, the people prepare for the great rite—songs and rituals to awaken the ancient fire. But here, in this quiet chamber of smooth obsidian and woven pearl, it’s only the two of you.

You sit beside him on a wide, polished ledge, your legs dangling in a pool of slow-moving current. Above you, light filters through a ceiling of living coral, casting soft shadows that drift across your skin.

Neither of you speaks at first.

He sits close—closer than ever before. His shoulder brushes yours. His fingers rest on the stone between you, twitching once, like he wants to close the space and doesn’t know how.

“I dreamed of the surface,” you say quietly. “Last night. I think I remembered what stars look like.”

His lips quirk. “Do you miss them?”

You nod. “A little.”

He hums. “They pale in comparison to your light, you know.”

You laugh, soft and tired. “Flattery won’t change what’s coming.”

The smile fades from his face. “No. It won’t.”

You look at him then, really look. The lines of his jaw. The quiet weight in his gaze. His beauty, yes—but more than that, the sadness he wears like silk beneath his skin.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way,” you whisper.

And finally, finally, he turns to you. His voice is low, almost breaking.

“So do I.”

He reaches for you. Fingers brushing your cheek, your jaw. There’s hesitation in him—like a god afraid of touching something mortal and fragile. But you lean into him. Let him touch. Let him feel.

“I don’t know what will happen tomorrow,” he says, so softly it hurts. “But if there’s a world after this one… I’ll find you in it.”

You breathe. “You promise?”

His forehead touches yours. “With everything I am.”

You press your lips to his. Not desperate like the kiss that saved your life. This one is soft. Reverent. Like two souls saying goodbye before they’re torn apart.

Your fingers curl in the silk at his shoulder. You could have more. You both know it. You could fall into each other here and now and let everything else go.

But he pulls back.

And when he speaks again, there’s a tremor in his voice. “If I touch more of you, I’ll never let go.”

So you don’t ask.

You just stay like that—forehead to forehead, the fire of Lemuria flickering in the distance, and the sea whispering of things it already knows it will lose.

You wake up with a gasp. The sheets are tangled around your legs. Your skin is damp with sweat, and your chest aches like something was carved out of it in the night.

You press a trembling hand over your heart.

You remember.

Not the ceremony. Not your death. Just him.

The way his hands trembled. The promise he made.

You don’t hesitate this time.

You throw on a coat over your clothes and leave your apartment before the sun finishes rising, wind biting at your skin. The academy isn’t open yet, but you know he has a private studio nearby—on the edge of the district, tucked between half-forgotten buildings where light paints long shadows.

You reach the door and pause. For a moment, all you can hear is your heartbeat.

Then your knuckles lift, and you knock.

Once.

Twice.

And when the door opens— He’s there.

Rafayel.

Sleep-rumpled, bare-footed, paint smeared faintly on his wrist like he’s been working through the night.

He stops when he sees you. His eyes widen. And something in them breaks. Your eyes meet his, and he goes still. Entirely still.

Like he knows you’re not just looking at him. You’re seeing him.

Through the centuries. Through the weight of what he’s carried.

And somehow, through that endless ache that’s lingered between you since the moment your soul touched his again—you feel it.

The pull.

That thread woven between you, stretching across lifetimes, and still just as strong.

You step forward. Quiet. Unhurried. He moves aside.

You enter the studio.

It’s warm inside, dimly lit with scattered lamps. The scent of salt, paint, and something faintly floral clings to the air. The walls are lined with canvases again, some half-finished, some covered. But you barely glance at them.

You turn to him. He closes the door, slowly, carefully, like any sudden movement might shatter what’s happening between you.

You still don’t speak. You just look.

And he knows. That you remember the fire. The sea. The altar. The way he whispered “always” and chose you over an entire civilization.

“…You’re not her,” he says softly, voice fraying at the edges. “But you are.”

You nod. Just once.

“I’m not who I was,” you say. “But I carry her. She’s in me.”

His throat works as he tries to swallow the weight of everything behind your words. He takes a step back, not away from you—toward something deeper. Something buried.

Your voice barely makes it out.

“Tell me.”

He looks at you.

“What?” he whispers.

“Everything,” you say. “Lemuria. The fire. What happened. Why I died. Why you—” Your voice breaks. You inhale. “Why you’ve been alone for so long.”

His eyes close. One breath. Then two. He doesn’t ask if you’re sure. He doesn’t warn you away.

He only steps forward and nods toward the armchair near his worktable. You sit, and he sits across from you—close, but not touching.

Not yet.

And then, for the first time in eight hundred years, Rafayel begins to speak.

He leans back in his chair, elbows resting on his knees. His fingers lace together, but his hands don’t stop moving—twitching, flexing, like they’re remembering something. Or trying not to.

He stares at the floor for a long moment.

And then—he exhales.

“I wasn’t always like this,” he says. “The whole ‘mysterious artist who might be a little unhinged’ thing? That’s new. Took me a couple centuries to refine.”

You don’t smile. But he knows you heard the joke.

His eyes flick up to yours, then drop again.

“Lemuria was real. A city beneath the sea, ancient as anything you’ve ever read about and ten times more arrogant. We weren’t gods—not really—but we were close. More powerful. Longer-lived. Bound to elements. Mine was fire.”

He pauses.

“In the ocean, I know. Hilarious.”

You’re silent, letting him continue.

“Our survival depended on balance—between power and the sea. Every few hundred years, we held a renewal ceremony. Something to keep the core of Lemuria alive. It required a sacrifice. A living soul, given freely. Always human.”

He leans back, eyes distant now.

“You were the next one.”

Your breath catches. He hears it—but keeps going.

“I didn’t choose you. The council did. You were caught in a storm. A shipwreck. They pulled you from the water and called it fate.”

His jaw tightens.

“But I was the one who pulled you the rest of the way. I found you when you were drowning—dying. And you…”

He looks at you again, voice quieter.

“You kissed me. Just once. Desperate. Barely conscious. But it was enough.”

You feel the heat rise behind your ribs.

“You didn’t know what it meant. Neither did I, not really. But the bond was made. You became mine. Not in some ceremonial sense. Not a title. Real. Your soul tied to mine. I should’ve broken it then. I didn’t.”

His voice dips.

“Instead, I kept you.”

Silence again.

You don’t speak. You can’t.

“We had time before the ceremony,” he says. “Not much, but enough. I showed you the city. You smiled at things I’d forgotten to see. I told myself it was fine. That we’d find a way to make it work. The ritual had been done before, right? It would be painful. It would be cruel. But you’d be honored. Remembered.”

He rubs a hand over his face.

“I didn’t know what the fire would ask.”

His voice cracks.

“They didn’t tell me. They let me fall in love with you knowing what it would cost.”

You stare at him, chest tight.

“And when the time came…” He laughs, but there’s nothing amused in it. “I dropped the blade. Like a fool. Like a man instead of a god. I chose you.”

His eyes lift, finally meeting yours again.

“And Lemuria fell.”

The words drop like stones.

“The fire died. The sea went silent. The city collapsed in on itself and slipped into slumber. My people… gone. All of them. And you…”

His hands curl into fists.

“You still died.”

The silence between you is unbearable.

“I searched,” he whispers. “Every century. Every continent. Every flicker of something familiar. Until now.”

Your throat tightens, your chest aching like the memory is still carved into it.

And then, very quietly— “You never hated me?” you ask.

Rafayel looks at you, and his voice is nothing but raw truth.

“I hated myself enough for both of us.”

You sit with the weight of his words echoing in your chest. Not as a story. Not as a myth. But as memory.

Pieces of the dreams begin snapping into place—too vivid to be fiction. The drowning. The kiss. The glow of Lemuria’s fire before it went dark. The way he held you. The way he chose you.

Your throat burns.

He said it so simply. So quietly.

“You still died.”

You still feel it—that cold, final moment. The pain. The way his arms wrapped around you as everything collapsed. Not in a temple. Not in fire. But in a goodbye you never got to speak.

You study him now. He’s staring at the floor again, trying to hold himself together.

Not out of pride.

But because he always has.

You can see it all over him now—grief carved into every line of his face. Regret tucked behind every flicker of his eyes. He’s worn it for centuries like armor, and now it hangs off him like a second skin.

And even though he's the one who remembers everything, your own soul is screaming that it recognizes him.

That this man—this tired, deflecting, beautiful man—is yours.

Not because he claimed you. But because you chose him, too.

Your fingers twitch once on your lap. And then, slowly, you reach forward.

No words. No hesitation. Just the soft, deliberate motion of your hand covering his—warm skin to trembling knuckles.

He stills instantly. Like he can’t believe it’s real. Like the fire that once destroyed a city might spark again beneath your touch.

His head lifts. And when his eyes meet yours, you see it.

Everything.

The eight hundred years of silence. The fury. The ache. The guilt. The hope he buried so deep he stopped believing it could ever breathe again.

And something inside him breaks.

Not loudly. Not visibly.

But in the way his fingers curl into yours without thinking. The way he leans ever so slightly forward, breath catching. The way his voice—when it finally comes—is barely more than a whisper.

“…You still want me?” Your voice is soft. Cracked open.

“I don’t know what this life will ask of us. But yes.”

A beat of silence.

Then his fingers tighten around yours like he’s afraid you’ll disappear again. Like the bond has always been there, tugging at him through lifetimes. And now, finally—finally—you’re here.

And this time, he doesn’t let go.

His fingers tighten around yours. Not with desperation—but with certainty.

As if he’s grounding himself in your warmth, your presence. Your soul.

And then—you feel it.

At first, it’s subtle. A shift in the air. A pressure beneath your skin. The kind of sensation that makes your breath catch in your throat. Then his Evol stirs.

Not violently.

But deeply.

You feel it hum in the floorboards. In the space between your bodies. The pull of gravity—not toward the earth, but toward him.

Your heart stumbles as the air thickens with heat and stillness. The lamps in the studio dim slightly, like shadows drawn inward to watch.

And then—he exhales.

His shirt shifts slightly, neckline tugged just low enough from how he’s leaning forward, and you see it: The mark.

Etched into the skin over his heart, faintly glowing with light that moves like liquid gold beneath his skin.

Not a scar.

Not a wound.

A marking—long-forgotten, hidden, sacred.

Flowing like a river. Like the pull of tides. The bond.

It pulses once. Then again. And your own body answers—not visibly, but within.

You feel the pull so deep it hurts. Like your soul is trying to leave your body just to meet his halfway.

You gasp and close your eyes, clutching his hand harder, like if you let go, the bond would rip you apart. Your heart pounds. Your skin burns. It’s too much and still not enough.

“Rafayel—” you whisper, and your voice is wrecked with it.

He’s already beside you.

He moved without thought, closing the space, kneeling before you, both hands now on yours. His breath is shallow. His pupils dilated. His voice when it comes is strained—barely held together.

“It’s reacting.”

You meet his eyes.

“I feel like I’m dying,” you whisper. “But it’s not pain. It’s—”

“I know.” His forehead presses gently to your hand, his hair brushing your skin. “The bond was never meant to wake like this. Not after everything. Not after time.”

Your throat tightens. “What does it mean?”

His voice is hoarse. “It means your soul remembers mine. It means I never stopped carrying you. And now, you’re carrying me again.”

Your eyes sting.

“I can’t breathe,” you whisper.

He looks up at you then, eyes burning with that same ancient ache, and says— “I’ll hold you through it. I swear.”

You grip his hand tighter. Your pulse thunders against his. And beneath it all—the mark glows brighter.

The fire he gave up Lemuria for, burning again in the space between your ribs. And still, he holds you. Because this time, he’s not letting go.

You don’t know how long you sit like that. Hands entwined. Breath shallow. Skin flushed with something deeper than heat. His forehead rests against your hand, and your fingers press into his like you’ll drown without him.

The mark on his chest glows brighter now—like molten gold spilling beneath his skin, threading through his veins. It pulses with the slow, aching rhythm of something that never truly died.

And you feel it.

It starts in your fingertips, where his touch meets yours. A subtle warmth that spreads—up your arms, across your chest, down your spine. Your body tenses, not in fear, but in stunned surrender. Like your soul is unfolding, opening ancient doors it didn’t know it still carried.

You inhale sharply.

“Rafayel…” Your voice is barely audible.

He looks up—eyes shining, wide, and for the first time, afraid.

Not of you. But of what this means. Because the bond is awake now.

Fully.

And you feel it. So does he.

You lean forward without thinking. Just enough that your knees touch, your hands still laced together between you. Your foreheads meet—like they did once, long ago beneath the sea.

The air shivers.

You feel it—his soul brushing against yours.

Not metaphorically. Not emotionally.

Literally.

It’s like something inside you—something buried so deep it became myth—rises with a gasp and rushes to meet him. And his soul? It surges forward like the tide, like fire drawn to air, like it’s been starving for this for eight hundred years.

You both freeze. The moment stretches thin.

And then— It clicks.

Like two halves of a lock finally twisting together. You both exhale at the same time—ragged, quiet, trembling. You press your forehead harder to his, your breath mingling, and your voice breaks.

“I feel you.”

His hands tremble as they rise—fingers brushing your face, your jaw, the side of your neck.

“And I feel you,” he whispers. “Like I never stopped.”

It’s too much. But neither of you lets go. Because it’s not your bodies craving closeness now. It’s your souls. Colliding. Merging. Grasping onto each other like they will die if they’re pulled apart again.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bury your face into the crook of his neck. He pulls you in with a sound that’s almost broken—relief and disbelief and hunger, all tangled together.

And there, in the silence of his studio, surrounded by memories and broken time and fire reborn— You hold each other like the world already ended once.

And this time, you refuse to let it happen again.

You sit wrapped in his arms, the mark on his chest pulsing against you like a second heartbeat. One you know now. One your soul aches for. Neither of you speaks. There’s too much to say, and none of it would be enough.

So you stay like this.

Breathing each other in. Holding the weight of eight centuries between your ribs. Letting the silence crack open everything that once went unsaid.

You feel it all.

The ache in him—that deep, hollow grief buried beneath every teasing smile he ever gave you. The longing in you, echoing back from the dreams and the fragments and the salt still crusted on your soul. The fear that it could happen again. The desperate hope that it might not.

And somehow, love—tangled and broken and real—fills the air between you like light in water.

You shift slightly, just enough to look up. He feels it and pulls back a little too—but not far. Just enough so your faces are inches apart again.

You stare into his eyes. And they’re not violet now.

They’re blue.

Lemurian blue. The glow from centuries ago, lit from within, as if his soul is rising to the surface and showing itself to you, fully—not hiding, not shielding, not afraid anymore.

Your breath catches. You don’t realize your hand is on his cheek until he leans into it, closing his eyes for one long, shuddering moment.

And when they open again, you whisper—broken, honest, whole. “I want to kiss you.”

His breath stumbles. You shake your head, just slightly. “Not because of the bond. Not because of then.”

Your thumb brushes his cheek, and your voice trembles.

“Because I’m drowning again. And this time… I want you to save me.”

His lips part. But he doesn’t speak. Instead—slowly, reverently—he leans in. No ceremony. No ritual. Just him.

And when your mouths meet, there’s no fire. No crashing waves. Just stillness. Warmth. The kind of kiss that quiets the world around it.

That tells your soul: You’re home.

His lips meet yours like a breath caught between lifetimes.

At first, it’s gentle—tender. The kind of kiss that trembles with restraint, with awe, with the weight of finally.

But the moment stretches. And the bond stirs again.

Not quiet this time.

It tugs.

You feel it low in your chest, deep in your belly, under your skin—like a thread catching fire. His soul brushes yours again, not tentative this time, but seeking. And you both feel it: want, sharp and full, no longer content to stay beneath the surface.

Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, firm now, grounding you as he deepens the kiss—lips parting, breath shared. His other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies touch, chest to chest, and that mark between you flares.

You gasp against his mouth—stunned by how much you feel. Every beat of his heart, every tremble in his fingers, every shattered breath.

And he groans low in his throat, like he’s been starving for this, like your kiss is the first breath after centuries underwater.

Your hands slide up, one to his shoulder, the other to his jaw, tilting him closer, needing him closer. The kiss turns needy, like the bond has teeth, like it hurts to be apart even by inches.

You shift into his lap on the floor without thinking, knees on either side of him, your bodies pressing together like a tide rising. The heat between you builds—slow, consuming. His hands find your back, your hips, steady and worshipful and claiming.

But still careful. Still him.

Because even now—he’s holding the storm back for you.

Your foreheads touch again, both of you breathless, lips barely apart. His voice is rough, reverent, shaking. “I’ve wanted you for so long…”

You whisper, “Then have me. Now. This time.”

He exhales, eyes closing—like your words are both mercy and temptation.

But still, he rests his forehead against yours, and for one long moment, the kiss slows again—returning to where it began.

Not just want.

But knowing.

That this time, you came back.

His breath fans against your lips. Your bodies press together, heart to heart, soul to soul—and still, it’s not enough.

His hands slide up your sides, slow and reverent, fingers tracing the shape of you like he’s memorizing a map he already knows by heart. You feel his touch like heat, like electricity, but it’s gentle. Not rushed. As if he’s asking permission with every inch.

And you give it. Freely. Because you trust him. Because you always did.

Your hands cup his face, thumbs brushing along the high bones of his cheeks. His eyes are still glowing—soft, pulsing with that same sea-blue light that once illuminated the depths of Lemuria. You can’t stop looking at him. He’s beauty and ruin and tenderness all at once.

“Let me see you,” he breathes, voice low and raw.

You nod.

His fingers move to your shirt, slow and trembling. He peels it over your head inch by inch, gaze never leaving your face. His eyes darken as more of you is revealed, not with lust, but with a reverent kind of ache. Like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he blinks.

You’re bare to him now, chest rising and falling, pulse fluttering beneath your skin.

He doesn’t touch yet.

He looks.

And the way he looks at you?

It’s not hunger.

It’s worship.

Like you’re the only thing in the universe that ever made sense.

When his hands do move, they’re light, like seafoam brushing the shore. Palms skimming over your ribs, your waist, up to the curve of your shoulders. You shiver, not from cold—but from being seen.

From being known.

“Every time I dreamed,” he whispers, voice shaking, “this is where it ended. I always woke up before I could touch you like this.”

You reach for the hem of his shirt, voice soft. “Then let’s stay awake.”

He unbuttones it slowly—and there it is. The mark.

Alive with golden light. Spiraling and shifting with every breath he takes. You lift your hand and lay your palm over it, and he gasps, eyes fluttering closed.

“Gods—” he murmurs. “You feel like fire.”

“And you feel like the sea,” you whisper, leaning in.

Your mouths find each other again, deeper this time. Slower. The kiss rolls like a tide—soft waves turning into something stronger. His hands cradle your waist, yours slide into his hair, anchoring each other as your hips begin to move, instinctual, finding rhythm in closeness.

You’re bare from the waist up, his palms warm on your skin, your body pressed into his lap, straddling him. The heat between you isn’t sudden—it’s steady, like something alive and rising with every breath.

His hands settle at your waist, thumbs stroking along your sides, and your arms loop around his shoulders like instinct. You roll your hips forward, slow and searching.

He breathes out against your jaw—a sound, soft and sharp and undone.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

You won’t. You can’t.

The bond pulls at both of you now—familiar and foreign all at once. A string tugging from somewhere deeper than the body, deeper than desire.

You grind again, and he shudders beneath you.

Your mouths find each other once more, this kiss less gentle—still reverent, still him, but now laced with hunger, with need. Your hips keep moving, slow and steady, pressing into him in long waves that make your pulse trip and your breath stutter.

His hands slide up your back, fingers tracing your spine, pulling you closer until there’s no space left to give.

You break the kiss first—just enough to breathe, to look at him.

He’s glowing again. Eyes bright, chest marked with light, jaw tense with restraint. But it’s his expression that stills you.

It’s not lust. It’s longing. The kind that never died. The kind that waited. You whisper, breathless, “You’re shaking.”

“I’ve never had you like this,” he murmurs, voice thick. “Not like this. Not when we could’ve had forever.”

You stroke his cheek. “Then take it now.”

He swallows hard, eyes locked on yours. “You feel it too… don’t you? Not just the bond. The way it’s pulling. Tighter. Deeper.”

You nod.

“It’s like it’s begging for more,” you whisper.

“Or warning us.”

You pause—hips stilling—but his hands slide to your lower back, guiding you again.

“Don’t stop,” he says, voice quiet but rough. “We’ve already passed the line. I’d rather drown in you than float in a world where you’re not mine.”

Your heart cracks open at that.

“I don’t know where you end and I begin anymore,” you admit.

“You never did,” he says. “Not really.”

And the bond tugs again.

Like it agrees.

Your hips begin to move again, slowly, rhythmically—dragging over the hard line of him beneath you through the fabric that still separates you. Each motion sends heat curling deeper into your belly, and you feel it—the way his breath hitches every time your bodies align just right.

Rafayel groans softly, hands gripping your waist tighter now, grounding himself in your skin. His thumbs draw slow circles over your hips, encouraging, urging.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmurs, lips brushing the edge of your jaw.

You tilt your head, gasping as his mouth trails lower—your shoulder, the dip of your collarbone—kissing like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you with his lips.

“I think I do,” you whisper.

And you do. Because it’s happening to you, too.

The bond hums beneath your skin, alive and urgent, responding to every grind, every breath, every place where your bare skin meets his. The mark on his chest pulses between you, the light from it casting a golden sheen over your joined bodies.

You reach between you, fingers slipping down to the waistband of his pants. He shudders as you touch him through the fabric, and his head falls to your shoulder with a low, aching groan.

“Careful,” he breathes. “You’ll break me.”

You smile against his temple, even as your heart races. “No. I’m just… putting you back together.”

He lifts his head at that—eyes burning, jaw clenched, chest rising with a breath that trembles.

And then his hands are on you again, one sliding up to your breast, cupping it gently, thumb brushing over your nipple in a slow, deliberate stroke. You gasp—your hips stuttering against him—and his free hand grips your waist harder, steadying you.

“You’re unreal,” he murmurs, voice husky, lips trailing along your throat. “You’ve always been. Even when I had you, I never really had you like this.”

“You do now,” you whisper. “You have all of me.”

His mouth returns to yours, more urgent now, lips parting, tongues brushing—hungry and deep, but still slow. Still intentional. Every movement between you feels like a vow being rewritten into the present.

You grind down again, and this time, his hips push up into yours, seeking friction, needing it.

“Rafayel—” you gasp.

His hands slide down to your thighs, gripping tight. “You feel that?” he murmurs against your lips. “That pull? That ache?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “I feel everything.”

“Then don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

Your hips move in long, grinding strokes, and he meets you halfway, thrusting up to meet every motion with slow, devastating precision. The press of him against you—hard, insistent, still clothed but unbearable now—makes your breath stutter and your fingers clench where they rest against his jaw.

You slide one hand down his neck, over his chest—feeling the thrum of the bond-mark still glowing beneath your palm—and lower, down the tight lines of his abdomen. His muscles tense under your touch, his breath catching as your fingers trail the edge of his waistband.

“Fuck,” he whispers, his voice broken, reverent. His head tilts back slightly, exposing his throat, as if surrendering to you completely.

“You feel so good,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss along his neck, tasting salt and heat, your lips brushing over the pounding pulse there. “It’s like… like my body’s always known yours.”

He groans, deep and rough, his hands sliding up from your hips to your chest again, palms warm, thumbs flicking over your nipples, sending sparks jolting through your core.

“It has,” he says, voice gravel and sea. “It has. Even before we had names for it. Even when we didn’t know why, we fit.”

Your bodies move together, perfectly aligned, grinding harder now—friction building, fabric doing nothing to dull the throbbing ache between your legs. You’re both lost in it—moaning quietly, panting, clinging to each other like you’ll drown without the other’s mouth, hands, heat.

His lips find yours again and the kiss is messier now, hungrier—tongues meeting, teeth grazing, breathless and needy. He presses deeper against you, rolling his hips up in a slow, punishing grind that makes you cry out softly into his mouth.

“Rafayel,” you gasp, fingers digging into the muscles along his stomach.

His hand finds your jaw, tilting your face up so he can look at you—really look.

“I love you,” he says, voice shaking. “I never stopped. Not once. Not through fire or time or death.”

The bond pulses.

And your soul sings.

You grind down harder, chasing more of him, needing him inside now, and you whisper— “Then show me. Be mine again. Fully.”

And gods, the way he looks at you then—like he’s about to fall apart and fall together all at once.

Like he’s already yours.

You can barely breathe— Not because you’re overwhelmed, But because you’ve never felt this full of him.

Of feeling.

Of need.

And he’s still so close, mouth at your jaw, hips grinding slowly up into you in time with yours. It’s not frantic. It’s not fast. But it’s deep—slow waves crashing again and again, steady and building and unbearable in the best way.

You cling to him tighter, fingers curling against the hard lines of his stomach, memorizing him with your touch. He watches you like he’s watching the sky change color—awed, reverent, and just a little broken with it.

And then your voice, soft, trembling, spilling between kisses. “I want you to have all of me.”

His breath catches—he feels that. You know he does. Because the bond pulses again, stronger, your souls tightening like a drawn bowstring.

“You already gave it to me,” he says, voice rough against your throat. “Every time you came to me. Every time you dreamed. Every time you said my name in silence.”

“I didn’t remember,” you whisper, “but something in me always did.”

You feel him shiver beneath you, his hands sliding slowly down your sides, to your hips again. Then lower. Fingertips brushing the hem of your skirt.

“Then let me remember you too,” he murmurs, his voice suddenly lower, rougher. “Now. Like this.”

Your breath hitches, and you nod.

He shifts.

One arm slips beneath your thighs, the other around your back—and before you can ask, he’s lifting you into his arms, holding you like you’re weightless. Like he could carry you across oceans if you asked.

He doesn’t take you far—just to the side room of the studio, through a half-open door, where a soft couch and scattered blankets wait. You remember this space from before. Where he showed you your statue. Where he first watched you see yourself through his eyes.

Now, he lowers you there gently—kneeling with you, kissing you again before pulling back just far enough to push your skirt higher, exposing your thighs. His gaze darkens, not with possession—but with hunger softened by awe.

“Say it again,” he whispers, fingers brushing the inside of your thigh. “Say you’re mine.”

Your breath shakes. “I’m yours.”

His eyes close. And then he kisses down your chest, slow and reverent—like prayer. Like each inch of you is holy, and he’s not worthy, but he’ll worship anyway.

His lips trail lower, soft and deliberate.From the curve of your breast, down the center of your sternum, his breath fans against your skin as his hands part your thighs gently, like he’s opening a gift he waited centuries to touch again.

Your skirt is bunched at your hips now, your underwear the last thing between you and him. He pauses there—hovering, just above, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

There’s fire in them. But there’s also restraint. Still asking. Always asking.

You nod.

And his fingers curl under the waistband, dragging the thin fabric down your legs. Slowly. Carefully. Watching every inch of you become bare to him.

When you're naked before him, he exhales. It’s not a groan. Not a curse.

It’s worship.

Like your body is art and memory and something he forgot how to breathe around. “Perfect,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

His hands slide up your thighs, parting them further, and when he settles between them, you gasp—not from the touch, but the closeness.

His mouth returns to your skin, kissing the soft flesh of your inner thigh, over and over. And when he finally reaches the center of you—he doesn’t rush. He kisses you there first. Soft. Gentle. Claiming.

And then his tongue moves—slow, deep, every stroke deliberate. Every flick of him against you feels like poetry, like remembering. His hands hold your hips down as your body begins to tremble, as you arch into him, a breathless cry slipping from your throat.

The bond flares again—harder now.

It’s not just sensation. It’s feeling.

You can feel what he feels—his hunger, his reverence, his need to give this to you. To please you. To undo you with nothing but his mouth and the bond that glows golden between you.

“Rafayel—” you moan, your fingers finding his hair, threading through, holding him to you.

He groans against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. His pace quickens just slightly, lips and tongue moving in rhythm, matched to the rise and fall of your hips, the way your legs tighten around his shoulders.

“I can’t—” you breathe, voice shaking. “It’s too much—”

“No,” he says against you, lifting his head just enough to meet your eyes. His mouth is wet. His pupils blown wide. “You can. You were always meant to feel like this.”

And then he takes you again, deeper, firmer—his tongue moving with purpose, with knowing. One of his hands rises, fingers pressing against you where you need it most, rubbing soft, slow circles in time with his mouth.

You fall apart. Shattering.

But it’s not destruction. It’s a return. To him. To yourself. To the bond.

Your soul snaps tight to his, and in that moment, you know—nothing will ever break it again. Not time. Not death. Not gods.

Just you and him.

Forever.

Your body trembles in the aftershock—waves still rolling through your limbs as you try to find your breath again. Your heart pounds like it’s never known stillness, your skin tingles, warm and wet beneath the cool air of the studio. The bond pulses softly now—slower, but still aching, still alive.

Rafayel is still there, between your thighs, his hands smoothing along your skin as if trying to soothe every inch he just set ablaze. His lips brush your inner thigh once more before he lifts his head, gaze locking with yours.

You’re glowing.

Not just the bond. You.

Your cheeks. Your chest. Your soul. He sees it. You know he does. His breath catches like he’s looking at something divine.

And you are. Because you’re his.

And now—your body knows it too.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, voice hoarse, reverent. “You’re… gods, you’re beautiful.”

You smile softly, still trying to speak, to breathe. But the words won’t come—not yet.

So instead, you reach for him. Your fingers curl into the collar of his open shirt—what little remains of it—and tug. A silent come here.

The bond pulses again, responding to your touch. To your need.

Because you need him now. Closer. Inside. Where he belongs.

He rises without hesitation, crawling up over you, his body settling between your legs, the weight of him grounding you instantly. You feel him—hard, aching, still trapped behind the fabric of his pants. Still holding back.

Still waiting for you.

Your hands trail down his chest, over the glowing mark, down to his waistband.

His voice shakes. “You’re sure?”

You nod. “I’ve never been more.”

Your fingers make quick work of the button, the zipper, the soft fabric pushed down until he’s bare before you—every inch of him sculpted, wanting. His length rests heavy between your bodies, and you feel the full heat of him now, throbbing against your thigh.

Your hands slide to his hips. “Come to me,” you whisper. “Let me feel all of you.”

His eyes flutter closed for one long, trembling breath. And when they open again, they burn like starlit oceans.

“I’ll never leave you again,” he says, voice cracking on the promise. “Not even if the world asks me to.”

He hovers above you, breath shallow, chest glowing where the bond pulses like a second heartbeat. The weight of him is heat and pressure and promise—but still, he waits. His gaze roams your face, your lips, your eyes, and then his hands are on you again—palms sliding down your sides, fingers tracing your curves like he can’t decide what part of you to worship first.

You arch into him, skin burning for more, and he gives it. His touch becomes more deliberate—fingers trailing over your breasts, circling your nipples in soft, teasing strokes that make you gasp and clutch at his back. Then lower—down your ribs, your hips—until one hand slips between your legs again.

You're still slick, still trembling.

His fingers slide through the heat of you, and he groans against your shoulder. “You’re drenched.”

“You did that to me,” you breathe, kissing his jaw, his throat. “So do something about it.”

He huffs a laugh—wrecked and reverent—and kisses you hard, swallowing the sound you make when his fingers return to your entrance, circling, pressing, stroking you until your legs tighten around his waist.

But it’s not enough.

You reach down, sliding your hand between your bodies, and wrap your fingers around him—bare, hard, heavy in your palm. His entire body tenses at your touch, a low groan rumbling from his throat like thunder under water.

“Fuck,” he murmurs. “You’re going to destroy me.”

You smile softly. “Then I guess we’ll go down together.” Guiding him now—your hand between your legs, tip brushing against your entrance, slick and pulsing—you both freeze for a moment.

The bond tugs hard. It burns—not pain, but pressure. Desire. Connection. Like your souls are screaming for the rest of it.

“Look at me,” you whisper.

He does—eyes glowing blue, wide, undone.

And then you pull him forward.

He pushes in—slow. The head of him parts you, stretching you with exquisite heat, your breath hitching as your body gives way to his, little by little.

And gods, the way he groans—deep and guttural and devastated—as he sinks deeper, inch by inch. “You feel…” His jaw clenches, eyes fluttering shut for a beat. “You feel like home.”

You gasp, holding onto his shoulders as he presses all the way inside—your walls stretching to take him fully, your body shaking with the sheer depth of it.

Like waves crashing into rock.

Slow. Relentless. Inevitable.

Your arms wind around his neck, your hips rising to meet his, and for a breathless moment—you both freeze.

Connected. Finally.

The bond bursts between you—hot, glowing, searing through your cores like golden light, your marks burning where your bodies meet. And your soul recognizes his again—not just remembered, but claimed.

You whisper, broken, into his ear, “I was made for you.”

He begins to move—slow at first, the thick press of him dragging out of you only to roll back in, deep and steady. Your legs tighten around his waist, anchoring him, and your breath leaves you in a quiet, wrecked moan.

He’s so deep, it borders on unbearable. But it’s not pain. It’s completion.

Like your body has always known the shape of him. Like your soul carved out space centuries ago—and it never faded.

The bond pulses with every thrust, hot and insistent, like a second heartbeat thudding between your bodies. You feel it everywhere—in your chest, in your spine, down to your fingertips curling into his back.

“You’re so tight,” he groans against your neck, his voice raw. “I can’t—gods, I can’t hold back when you feel like this.”

You gasp as he thrusts again, a little harder, the rhythm finding its pulse now—you, wrapped around him, hips moving in time, chasing every roll of his body with your own.

“Don’t hold back,” you whisper, lips brushing his ear. “I want all of you. Give me all of you.”

That breaks something in him. He pulls back just enough to look down at you, his hand cupping your cheek, eyes blazing—glowing. Not with fire. Not just the bond.

With divinity.

“You have me,” he says, fierce and shaking. “Every life. Every death. Every version of me belongs to you.”

And then he thrusts again—deeper, harder now, the pace picking up. Your back arches, a cry slipping from your lips as he rolls his hips in that perfect rhythm, steady and consuming. The couch creaks beneath you, your bodies moving together like waves in a storm—unstoppable.

Each push forward presses his soul deeper into yours.

Each drag out pulls a piece of your breath with it.

And the bond is blazing now—no longer just a tether, but a firestorm. You feel him in every corner of your being.

You cling to him, whispering, gasping his name over and over like a prayer.

“Rafayel… Rafayel…”

He groans, thrusting harder, faster now, his body shaking above yours. “Say it again—gods, say it.”

“Rafayel,” you moan, clutching him tighter. “I love you.”

His eyes flutter shut.

And he kisses you—deep and open and hungry, swallowing your moans as his pace slams into you, slick and perfect, pushing you toward that edge again.

“You’re mine,” he says against your lips, hips slamming into yours. “And I’m yours. This time, we finish together.”

You nod, eyes blurring, breath breaking. “Together.”

And as the rhythm deepens, as the bond tightens, as your bodies crash and rise like a divine tide— You both feel it. This was always meant to be.

Your bodies move in perfect rhythm—skin slick, muscles straining, hearts pounding in tandem. Every thrust is deep, deliberate, like he’s trying to etch himself into the very core of you. And you let him.

You welcome him.

The couch creaks beneath the steady roll of your bodies. The bond between you pulses hotter and hotter, gold light flickering where your chest meets his, your mark answering his with every grind, every cry, every gasped breath.

He’s buried inside you to the hilt, his hips snapping forward again and again, slow but hard, like he wants to feel your soul clench around him. Your lips brush his cheek, your breath stuttering. “You feel like you were made for me.”

He groans at that, his pace faltering just slightly—thrusts shallowing, but deeper somehow, grinding with purpose.

“I was,” he breathes. “Every part of me belongs here. Inside you.”

You whimper, hips rising to meet his, hands dragging down his back, anchoring him to you like you’ll die if he pulls away.

“You’re everything,” you whisper. “I didn’t even know what was missing—until you.”

He kisses you then, slow and trembling—so soft, it breaks your heart.

“I never stopped dreaming of this,” he says, voice shaking. “Even when I thought I’d never see you again. Even when I hated myself for letting you die.”

You cup his face, forcing him to look at you, even as your body tightens, your climax rising fast behind your ribs.

“You didn’t let me die,” you say, breathless. “You loved me through it.”

He chokes on a sound—like he might break. And the bond flares white-hot. It pulls, hard, like it wants to drag both of you over the edge.

And finally—you let it.

Your bodies begin to tremble with every thrust now—harder, faster, the rhythm deepening into something desperate, something final. Rafayel drives into you with growing urgency, the sound of your skin meeting, your breathless cries, his ragged moans echoing in the warm space around you.

The mark between you burns—golden fire where your chests meet, pulsing in time with every deep roll of his hips.

You feel it in your belly first—the pressure curling tight, heat rising fast, coiling deep in your core like something ancient coming undone.

“I can’t—” you gasp, clinging to him, your nails dragging along his spine. “Rafayel—I’m—”

He kisses your jaw, your throat, his voice breaking. “I’ve got you. Come with me.”

Your walls flutter around him, body tightening, and he groans—loud, wrecked—his thrusts losing rhythm, becoming wild, erratic, desperate.

And then— You break.

Your climax rips through you like a wave crashing against stone, stealing your breath, your voice, your entire self. You cry out his name as your back arches, legs locking tight around his hips. The bond erupts—golden fire spilling through your chest, your spine, everywhere.

And in that same instant— Rafayel shudders above you with a groan so guttural it sounds like it’s torn from his soul.

He thrusts deep—once, twice—then holds, buried to the hilt inside you as he comes, body trembling, hands gripping your hips like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. He gasps your name like a prayer, like an apology, like he’s finally home.

His seed spills hot and deep inside you, and the bond explodes in white-hot light, burning so bright behind your eyes you forget where the world ends and he begins.

Your souls collide. Intertwine. And for one perfect, shattering moment— There is no time. No grief. No loss.

Only you. Only him. Only this.

The world is still.

Not in the way it pauses for fear or doubt—but in the way it hushes for something sacred.

Your bodies are tangled, slick with sweat and heat, hearts pounding in tandem. His chest is pressed to yours, his weight settled over you like a blanket you never knew you needed—heavy, warm, safe.

Rafayel’s breath stutters against your neck, lips brushing the curve of your shoulder as he exhales. Long. Shaky.

Like he still doesn’t believe you’re real.

Your fingers stroke the back of his neck slowly, slipping into the sweat-damp strands of his hair, and your other hand rests over his heart—right where the mark still pulses, dimmer now, but alive.

You don’t speak at first.

You just breathe.

Together.

The rise and fall of your chests in rhythm. The soft, broken hum he makes when you shift under him and your skin brushes in a new way. The way he presses the barest kiss to your collarbone without lifting his head.

And then—Very softly— “I thought I’d never feel this again.”

His voice is hoarse, barely a whisper. You turn your head, brushing your lips against his temple. “What? The bond?”

His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer. “You. Like this. Us.”

You breathe him in—salt, sweat, something darker beneath it. Something eternal. “You were never alone,” you murmur. “Even when I didn’t remember.”

He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes. There’s something raw in them still. Something softer now, too. Not fear. Not pain.

Peace.

“I remembered enough for both of us,” he whispers. “Every time I touched the sea, it brought me back to you.”

Your throat tightens, and you cup his face, your thumb brushing over the edge of his jaw.

“I’m here now,” you say. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips twitch—almost a smile. “Good. Because if you vanish again, I’m following you into the next life. And the one after.”

You laugh, breathless, your smile pressed against his as he kisses you again—slow, lingering, gentle. Nothing rushed. Nothing desperate.

Just yours.

You lie like that for a long time—his body pressed against yours, your limbs tangled, the bond still humming softly between your chests like a heartbeat that doesn’t belong to just one of you.

It’s warm now. Comforting. No longer pulling. Just there.

Like it always should’ve been.

Rafayel rests his forehead against yours, his fingers tracing idle patterns over your waist—thoughtless, gentle, reverent. You match his touch, your hand brushing along the lines of his back, memorizing the slope of his spine, the dip of his shoulder blades.

“I used to wake up,” you whisper, “heart racing, not knowing why. I’d look at the ocean and feel like something was missing. Like I was looking for someone I couldn’t name.”

He closes his eyes. “I’d see you in strangers,” he says. “Hear your laugh in dreams. I tried to forget for a while. I really did. But it never worked. I always ended up painting you again. Drawing you. Sculpting pieces of you like I was trying to remember something my hands already knew.”

You exhale, your fingers moving up to rest over the bond-mark glowing faintly beneath his skin. “And all this time, you were just… waiting?”

His lips brush yours, soft and aching. “Not waiting. Surviving.”

You’re quiet for a moment. And then, so soft you almost don’t mean to say it— “I’m sorry I left you.”

His eyes open again, glowing just a little in the dark. “You didn’t,” he murmurs. You look up at him, and he leans in to kiss you—sweet and sure. “And now,” he whispers between kisses, “you came back. That’s what matters.”

You pull him closer, fingers threading through his hair, lips brushing over his jaw. “I’m not going anywhere, Rafayel.”

He smiles then. Really smiles. The kind that doesn’t hide behind flirtation or pain.

“Good. Because if the world ends again, I want to be holding you when it does.”

Later—much later—after the fire in your bodies fades into warmth, you lie together in a nest of tangled limbs and quiet breath. His arms are around you. Your head rests against his chest, the glow of the mark soft and slow now, like candlelight instead of flame.

And for the first time in eight hundred years, you fall asleep in each other’s arms, not with grief between you— but peace.

The bond stays lit, even in dreams.

And this time, it does not fade.

.ᐟ✧ THIS IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT. I WILL ONLY POST HERE AND ON MY AO3.

.ᐟ✧ translations or reposts of my work on tumblr, ao3, or other sites ARE NOT permitted. please do not ask. do not reuse my blogpost headers, dividers, or layouts. these are original designs of my own. thank you!

taglist: @syluslittlecrows

#love and deepspace #rafayel x you #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #love and deep space #love and deepspace rafayel #loveanddeepspace #lads #rafayel lemurian #god of tides rafayel #student rafayel #god of sea rafayel

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hyunjinspark · 2 years ago

Text

star lost with you | hyunjin au | part 17

pairing: idol! hyunjin x artist! reader

genre: friends to lovers, so much angst, smut, fluff, set in the idolverse, mutual pining, unrequited love, forbidden romance, slowburn (!!!) soulmate au, star-crossed lovers

synopsis: working in a quaint little art store, you’ve had the honor of meeting all kinds of people, but you’ve never met somebody like him. there were many reasons hyunjin returned to his hometown; a getaway from the ephemeral and fast-paced life of the city, so he could fall in love with life again. he thought he was prepared for everything, to study art in the way that he’s always wanted to, but what he didn’t anticipate was meeting you. hwang hyunjin realises that sometimes, the best things in life happen unplanned.

word count: 31K

warnings: cursing, drinking, heavy angst, mutual pining, sexual tension, kissing, mature language, making out, jealousy, references to injuries, unrequited love, fighting, arguments and confrontations, hyunjin is mean, mentions of weed, post-breakup behaviour, passing mention of threats, a guy makes yn feel physically uncomfortable

a/n: most of this chapter contains heavy angst, yn is thinking about hyunjin 90% of the time, and it's a very different pacing from usual, but i enjoyed writing this a lot :) i hope you love it too! please get comfortable with snacks and a blanket to read. you can listen to my star lost playlist here!

important: all works are fiction, and do not in any way represent the real personalities or real people, they exist only as faceclaims, and are fictional characters.

masterlist

The romantic movies you’d watched growing up always skipped over the hard parts.

The break-ups in them were just a short montage set to the soundtrack of a sad song. The main female character would have given up all hope, drowning her feelings in ice-cream and wine, and just when she hit rock bottom... somehow the boy would find a way back to her. The audience would cheer even though it was so predictable, and the credits would roll. All the sadness would be overshadowed by a firework-worthy reunion kiss, and a stupid Happily Ever After.

If only your life right now could pass by like a montage. If only you could hit fast-forward, and skip to the day you feel better.

You were never much into Greek mythology, but you had read Percy Jackson in middle school, and the myth of Sisyphus always stuck to you. He was condemned to roll a rock up a mountain for eternity, but the rock would roll back down to the bottom every single time. It was a cruel punishment because he could never achieve his goal.

Forgetting Hyunjin was a Sisyphean task. It was futile, in every way. On most days, it almost felt impossible. You could always try, and push yourself really hard, but he would always be there at the bottom of the canyon. Homereminded you of him, of all the good times there — bumping into him at Aera’s, plunging into freezing water with him at the creek, kissing him in the meadow of the fireflies, sloppy and wet but enchanting. And so did this city. The lights of the skyscrapers, the culture, the fashion, they all screamed his name. It didn’t help that his pictures were plastered all over every big billboard, every bus stop shelter, each subway station. Perhaps to forget him, you’d have to run away to a remote cabin, somewhere in Europe, where you could paint your life away and never look back. Yet wouldn’t that be useless too? Everything beautiful in your life would be forever linked to him.

“What are you thinking of so deeply, Y/N?” A voice pulled you out of your sad tangent. You’d been sketching in your notebook, mindlessly doodling, drawing circles and squares.

Jeonghan was slumped in the chair opposite yours, his own sketchbook balanced on his knees, but he hadn’t drawn for an hour now. He was too busy listening to a podcast on those big headphones he never let go of. Minnie was supposed to join you today, but she was running late from a date with Jamie, so for now it was just you and him. There was so much noise around you, a constant buzz and chatter of people in the coffee shop, so you raised your voice to be heard, “I’m thinking of…how romance movies are all bullshit”

His eyebrows shot up, and he sat up straighter, clearly not expecting that. You suppose it was a bit random, “I’m sorry?”

Now that you’d brought it up, you had to explain it, and you struggled to find the words, “They’re all such cookie-cutter depictions of romance. The same formula every time. You don’t think so?”

His eyes narrowed, suspiciously, “Well, who broke your heart?”

You shut your sketchbook with a snap, “Nobody. I’m just talking”

“Clearly you think I’m stupider than I actually am” He pulled a hand up, and started counting on his fingers, “You’re not eating, you’re not sleeping, you’re only painting of blue and depressing things, you…didn’t even laugh at a single joke of mine in class today”

“Maybe because they aren’t funny”

“And you now think romantic movies suck. That’s the telltale signs of a breakup”

“I’ve always thought they suck… That doesn’t mean anything”

“Okay” He laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, “How about the fact that you all but ran out of Pegasus and went white as a ghost when you saw that guy in the elevator?”

You stilled, staring at him. It’s been days since that incident, but he’s never brought it up till now. You had never given him a chance to. You realised you’re an expert in deflecting when it comes to matters of Hyunijn. You pulled at the spiral binding of your notebook, “He was just an old friend”

“You reacted way more than someone would…to an old friend. I’m not going to judge you, you know that? I’m from fucking LA. If I started judging people, I’m afraid I’d never stop”

You sighed, looking down at the coffee table, “He’s just someone I wasn’t expecting to see. It brought up old memories, shit I’d like to forget now. Let’s…talk about something else, please”

He released a breath, looking around, “Fine. I think I’m gonna get another cup of coffee. You want one?”

“No, I’m good. Coffee keeps me up at night”

Jeonghan stood up, lanky frame hovering over you, lips pressed into a thin line, “Don’t blame coffee for that”

With that, he walked off to the counter, and you stared at the empty chair. You’re trying hard not to think of that evening, after you walked out of the storage closet, out of the Pegasus building and straight home. You had felt a new kind of pathetic… and to make it worse, your apartment keys had refused to cooperate. It’s because you were shaking the whole way home. You’d dropped them on the landing multiple times as you made your way upstairs, the shrill sound the only thing snapping you out of your daze. Even your hands had shook as you tried to get into your apartment.

You’d crawled into your mattress, and you’d cried yourself to sleep. Your pillow had muffled the sounds and it wasn’t even satisfyin. Your tears felt empty and forced. The numbness…was real. What were you even crying for? Hyunjin had made it crystal clear since day one that nothing could happen between you, so you shouldn’t have expected him to suddenly change his mind.

“I got you a cupcake” Jeonghan sat back down, a red velvet cupcake in his hand, a Cafe Mocha in the other.

It just hurt that he’d given up on the two of you, before you even had a chance to try. It was…a horrible memory, and your chest hurt at it. “I don’t want it, sorry”

“Suit yourself” He shrugged, peeling back the paper wrapping so he could take a bite out of it. The white frosting smeared on his nose, and he smiled at you. He’s a good friend, but you’ve been nothing but miserable the past few weeks. It’s bad for you because this is not the time for drama. You’re working on real stuff now in art class. You’re past introductions, and over the bunny hill. You have an actual assignment, and that’s the reason you’re here in this cafe, trying to brainstorm ideas for it. This artwork matters more to you than anything else lately, because it feels like a last plea for happiness. If your professor actually likes it, then you won’t feel so useless anymore. Time lately feels like it’s slipping through your fingers, wasting away, precious days blurring together into sadness and nostalgia. You used to count the seconds until you could live this life, but what you’re feeling right now…that’s not living.

How can you be creative right now, when all you hold inside you is bitterness? All this time, you’d held on to some minuscule hope, that one day things between you and Hyunjin would be all right. That maybe one day he would give into what he felt, and you could actually be together. It was almost …like a given. How could he kiss you like that…and not want it for the rest of his life? A part of you had imagined it all — the future you could have had with him, the relationship you could lead with somebody who knew every bit of you.

You’d been surrounded by good people your whole life, but the impact Hyunjin left on you was incomparable. His thoughts, the way his brain worked things out, the kindness with which he approached life — you couldn’t hope to find that in anybody now. It was special to only him, and more than anything, you couldn’t forget that. You couldn’t forget the beautiful things he kept hidden in his mind, in his heart. The first few weeks you’d known him…it became obvious what he would mean to you. In the silliest of ways, he even finished your sentences…How could somebody be so perfectly built for you, but not be meant for you at all?

Maybe the romance books were to blame for making you believe there was someone perfect for you at all. Soulmates were an urban legend, and a red string of fate didn’t exist. But then why did everything pull you together all this while? It couldn’t have been…for nothing.

Were you the one to blame for imagining an actual future with him? You’d never even had the honor of calling him your boyfriend, how could you hope for anything more?

The logical step was…to move on. So that’s why you’re here, painting in the new coffee shop, and hoping it will help. Jeonghan helps, kind of. He’s funny, and he’s got a large personality and an even bigger sense of humour, and you wonder how he fits it all in his lanky frame. He’s a perfect student and on top of that, he’s helpful. He’s always sharing his supplies with you in class, and he’s genuinely so amusing, if not mildly annoying sometimes, but with Minho and Felix you’d gotten used to it. He was humming now to a song you don’t recognise, his music taste is very different from yours, and he suddenly asked, “Why do you think I moved back to Korea?”

Your brows furrowed, and you randomly guessed, “I don’t know…An American girl broke your heart?”

“Bingo” He bit into the cupcake, crumbs falling onto his button-up, and on his ripped jeans, “She kissed my friend at a party. Right in front of me”

You’re surprised to hear that, and even more so that he’s openly telling you. Maybe talking freely about the past is moving on. So you told him, in solidarity, “My best friend dated the boy I like”

His eyebrows shot up, and he leaned forward, pausing the music on his phone to give you his whole attention, “Did she know you liked him?”

“No…not really”

“Then you can’t really blame her I guess”

“I don’t”

“So you blame yourself? For liking him?”

“Nothing I do could have made me stop”

He tilt his head, “Is that so?”

You chewed on your lip, “I liked him for a long time before my friend met him”

“Then why didn’t you ask him out?”

“I didn’t know his name at the…time”

His eyes widened, a smile forming, “Oh…now I’m really, really curious”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s in the past now”

Jeonghan sighed, “You know, this is a record”

You reached for his cupcake, and bit into it, it was too sweet and you hated red velvet but you wanted to feel something, “What do you mean?”

“That’s like the most I’ve got out of you, Y/N. You’re a pretty closed book”

You’ve never been told that before. You're usually always oversharing. You have to try to be better. Maybe divulging the details of your life isn’t such a weakness or vulnerability. It’s hard to explain to anybody about what you’re going through, the only person who’ll understand is Kairi, but you haven’t talked to her since that time in the park, when she brought Hyunjin up and you came crumbling down like a house of cards.

You feel so weak lately, like a balloon about to be popped, stretched to your limits. You can’t accommodate any sadness in you anymore, and any mere mention or thought of Hyunjin breaks you down. You’re trying your best though. Yeonjun is sad you don’t hang out at his place anymore, after all it’s not his fault there’s a billboard of Hyunjin right across. Falling apart felt it’d be more climatic and sudden, but it’s more of a gradual process than anything. Even now, sitting in this pretty shop in Seoul, your chest pains at the memories. The hurt is so immense sometimes you have to clutch your chest waiting for the pain to pass. It’s like a heart attack every time you think of him. You can’t remember how it used to feel when it didn’t hurt.

In the past few weeks, you’d have had a lot of selfish thoughts and wishes. Some of them are cruel in a way that you can never say it out loud. You feel guilty for even thinking them, yet most days when you’re alone in your bed and you crave him, you wish he never became an idol. Hyunjin without the fame and without his music was still the same boy inside. Hyunjin without the frills was the kid in the art store you fell in love with all those years ago.

You wish he could just be yours, to love forever, not the entire citys’. Forever was a long fucking time but you felt capable of it, of cherishing him for the rest of your life because he made it so easy. But you should have taken the hint when he cut you out of his life, without even leaving a phone number behind. If you hadn’t come to Seoul… it was entirely possible he would never have seen you again. He would have left you behind in the town, and never looked back. To him…you were just a girl he messed around with in the summer. So temporary. So forgettable.

You wish you could pick apart your brain, and take out every memory of him, but you feared there’d be nothing in you left then. Loving him took up all the space in you. Missing him did the same. Jeonghan was speaking to you still, wondering why you never shared too much about yourself, and you shrugged, “I don’t know. I just want to focus on now. I hate feeling haunted by the past. It’s paralysing, to be stuck in those memories”

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed, this is a pretty serious conversation for this cafe, but he asked, “You ever see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind? The movie with Kate Winslet and that one dude…um, Jim Carrey?”

You’ve stopped sketching entirely now, you hadn’t made progress in hours. It goes without saying that ever since you saw Hyunjin in the city, your inspiration has been lost. You’ve been searching for it ever since, in new friendships, in new coffee shops, in conversations like this, “I…haven’t, but Felix, my best friend loved that movie”

He leaned forward, excited to explain to you, “Well, in the movie this couple’s broken up, and they hate each other, like absolutely loathe each other. So there’s this futuristic procedure where they can choose to erase memories of their lover, and the girl…she does it. It’s too painful to remember the boy she loved”

“Oh?”

“Mmh” Jeonghan’s eyes twinkle as he explained and you wonder if he and Felix would be best friends if they met; they talk about movies with the same passion, “So the guy, he starts going through the procedure too. But as the memories of their relationship start being deleted, he realises he doesn’t want them to be erased after all. They loved each other, and their time together was so special to them. That shouldn’t be forgotten. It’s a cool concept, right?”

You’re listening to him, and the noises of the cafe have faded away, “Yeah. It’s cool” You’re playing the movie in your head, wondering what you would do if you were in it. Would you alter the chemistry of your brain so Hyunjin never existed in your life? It’d sure be easier than trying to move on, which was…useless.

Jeonghan suddenly frowned realising you ate some of his cupcake. The proof was in your hands which were covered in white frosting. He leaned over the little table, “I thought you didn’t want the cupcake”

You apologised, “Sorry. The frosting was good”

“Is that so?” He grabbed your hand. He’s touchy sometimes in class, so you weren’t too surprised. But in a single swoop, he licked the frosting right off your hand, tongue swirling around your finger for a brief second, “Eh, could be better. Anyway, do you want to watch that movie with me? You could come over after you finish the artwork”

Before you could even process what just happened, a tote bag slammed onto your table, and you both jumped. Minnie grinned at you, standing by, “So did you guys finish the assignment?”

»»————-

You are supposed to paint your most dominant emotion. It’s an important task, because you’ve to be graded on it. It’s due today. The thought of being evaluated for your creativity terrifies you. You don’t feel good for anything right now, but this is what you signed up for. Your supplies are sprawled across the apartment floor, and you’re forcing each stroke onto the paper, trying to paint a semblance of anything. You want to prove your worth in the art studio. You haven’t been too interactive in class, you’ve been at your lowest, but this meant so much to you for the longest time. So you’re trying really, really hard.

There is music playing from your phone, a mix of calm songs you’d put together months ago. Hours had passed, and you’ve fiddled away at your canvas, trying to fix every little detail. You stayed up nights in a row, finishing the painting and it was honestly a good distraction, for the most part. If Kim Jieong loves it, then perhaps you’ll stop being so sad. You will yourself to just fill in the gaps of your artwork, to correct the error in your ways so that it can be perfect for the presentation today.

But it was almost time for class, and if you didn’t leave now, you’ll be late. You stare at the painting, breathing a sigh, it doesn’t look half bad, “Well…this is as good as it’s gonna get”

As you roll the canvas up so you can carry it to class, the song on your playlist changes and within seconds… Hyunjin’s voice fills your bedroom. It was a song from the new album.

You freeze, recognising it instantly, goosebumps rippling up your arms and legs. It’s a ballad, and his voice is soft and melodious. Once upon a time it was comforting. Dread fills your stomach. You hate this song. You hate his voice. You can’t listen to him ever again. Your phone lay across the bedroom floor. You need to turn it off. In your hurry to scramble for it, your hand slips, and your elbow knocks into a glass of muddy paint-water. Before you could even process it, the liquid tips over. Within seconds, helplessly you watch the wave of liquid destroy your art. It seeps across your entire canvas, ruining everything you’d worked on for weeks.

It becomes a glob of colors and it’s so funny and pathetic you couldn’t even cry or be frustrated. It’s your carelessness to blame. The only thing you can do is turn the fucking music off.

You feel stupid, showing up to class with that. When you arrive, Minnie was presenting her piece already. It’s gorgeous, and her painting is about love. It’s obvious in the way she’s drawn a portrait of what’s supposed to be her girlfriend, Jamie. There’s strokes of red for her hair, and pink and warm tones all over. Jamie is drawn so beautifully, accentuated features, so much personality in a single portrait. Does she know how beautiful she is in her girlfriend’s eyes?

Jeonghan goes next, and he’s painted triumph. It’s more abstract than a lover’s portrait. It’s smart, and it’s confident, and it’s full of gold accents. You feel ashamed thinking of your own work. You slide the rolled-up canvas behind your desk, and hope nobody notices it. Like a zombie, you’re applauding for everyone’s work, and your hands clap every few minutes, but you’re not even looking at anything anymore. Analysis and appreciation is out of the question. Your own failure is far too distracting.

Then, Kim Jieong glanced at you for the first time this morning, expectant eyes, anticipating smile, “Come on up, sweetheart”

The rest of the class had apparently finished, and you’re the only one left. It’s easy to lie through your teeth, “I’m sorry, Mr. Jieong…I forgot”

His eyebrows shoot up, and confusion is evident in his gaze, “Forgot what?”

You can feel your friends eyes on you, “I forgot about the assignment” It’s better that he think you’re careless rather than not talented. Jeonghan’s gaze on you was deathly, because he knows you’ve worked on nothing else the past few days. This was the only thing you’d been sleeping and breathing. This was your turning point. Your hope for happiness.

Your professor nods, “I see…”

“I’m sorry” Your voice was small and pathetic but you don’t even feel any remorse. Sadness is so present in you that there’s no room for guilt. You stare at your table, not wanting to look anybody in the eye, especially as he speaks, “These assignments are for a reason, and I hope everybody knows that. We don’t wake up and come all the way here to waste each others time, do we?”

You curl up in your chair, pulling your jacket tight around yourself, and your eyes sting. You could feel his stare of judgement at you as he addressed the class, when you’re the only one at fault. Everybody else did the work. Minnie’s gaze was burning into you too, but you didn’t look up for the rest of class. It’s childish. You just feel embarrassed. You count down the minutes until it’s over. You’re going to go home and redo everything, and hopefully he will forgive you for your lack of tact.

As soon as it’s time, you grabbed your bag, rushing to leave, but his voice echoed through the class, “Y/N. Please stay back. I need to talk to you”

The dreadful words make you stop in your tracks, but you were already at the door planning your escape. Minnie pinched you in the stomach as she left, “Good luck, babe”

You turned around, clutching your bag to your chest as everybody around you exits, and you know you’re being judged right now. This is a class for professionals. Heartbreak is not an excuse. You take a look at him, “Is everything okay?”

The professor crosses his legs on the stool, seemingly relaxed, and he didn’t look mad, “Just need to discuss something with you. I’ve been thinking about it for a while”

“Okay…” You breathe, running the possibilities in your head. Is he just upset, or is it possible to actually get kicked out of this program because of your fucking carelessness?

Jeonghan stops in front of you, “Should I go ahead, or do you want me to wait for you?”

Your professor was quick to interrupt, “Nate, I appreciate you sticking up for your friend, but I’d like to speak to her alone”

Your heart warmed at the thought that he was going to stay back for you, “It’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow” You told him, even though you crave his comfort. Soon, the rest of the students trickle out of the classroom, dillydallying and slow to move with no care in the world. You stand by there, waiting patiently as Jieong wraps up his work, packing up his bag and things. As soon as everyone’s gone, you apologise, “I’m so sorry about forgetting the assignment. It was really irresponsible of me, and I can explain”

“Except you didn’t forget” He looked up at you.

“Sorry?”

“The canvas behind your desk. You didn’t really do a great job of hiding it”

“That’s… not my assignment” You protest, “That’s…nothing. It’s a mess”

He got up, “Then you won’t mind if I take a look at it?”

“I promise you, it’s nothing. It’s not worth…” You trailed off, watching as he makes his way there. He unfurls it, and he’s quiet for a few minutes as he stares at your botched painting. The artwork makes no sense. The canvas is completely ruined, and a kid could have done it better. He turns to you, disappointed. “Can you remind me why you’re here, Y/N?”

Your heart breaks even more, “I promise…I’m gonna do better next time”

He steps closer to you, “That’s not what I asked you, Y/N. Why are you in my program? That’s what I want to know”

You’re suddenly finding it hard to breathe, and your mind is blank. There’s no fucking space for your thoughts or for logic or reason, when it’s just been corrupted by memories he left behind, “I’m here… because I’ve always wanted to be”

“Do you think that’s good enough?”

This behavior of his isn’t even out of nowhere. You’ve been a horrible student of lately, you haven’t paid attention, your enthusiasm has been curbed, and your paintings have been tacky and upsetting. You swallowed the lump in your throat, “I’m really trying to be better. I’m…sorry for disappointing--”

“I’m only disappointed because you lied to me”

Your eyes shoot up to his, and his gaze burns you, “What?”

He crossed his arms, stepping close to you until there’s no personal space anymore. There’s no venom in his tone but you know he’s masquerading it because unlike you, he’s a professional who knows how to deal with people like you, “You can’t just choose what you want to do on a whim. That’s not up to you. That’s not what my program is for. This canvas is your assignment. Why are you pretending otherwise? Why didn’t you present it to the class?”

“Because I fucked up”

He didn’t flinch at your usage of the swear word, and he ran a hand over his face, “What emotion were you trying to convey?”

“Peace…”

“And is that how you feel? Peaceful?”

“No…” You sighed, “I feel horrible…” There was a lump in your throat blocking your airways. The pain in your chest was returning. You’re angry at Hyunjin for doing this to you.

“Can you please tell me what’s going on? You didn’t even meet the mentor I took you to see all the way to Pegasus for. Those field trips aren’t optional. I didn’t take you for some city tour. I wanted you to meet Karina. Those opportunities are important. If you miss those… you might as well not be here. This program is for people who value that, we have no room for freeloaders”

Your eyes shoot up to his, panic rising, and your eyes sting with tears, “Professor Jieong—”

“Can you sit down for a minute?” He stepped forward, hand going to your lower back, leading you to your seat. You feel awkward at the touch; the greenhouse studio is empty right now, it’s just you and him here. Would you have to beg him to let you stay in this program? Just like you begged Hyunjin to stay with you? He stands across you when you sit, crossing his arms, a pensive look in his eyes, “I receive…more than ten thousand applications for this program every year. There’s only twenty spaces in this classroom though. I couldn’t possibly look through all the applications myself. You’re aware of that, yes?”

It's hard for you to focus on his words when you only want to cry. In all this fucking sadness, you may just be losing the most important opportunity you ever got, “Yes…”

“I have a team that does it for me. They’re all trusted, close associates. All artists of course, and with all their idiosyncrasies they have a unique way of viewing the world. They hardly ever mess up in finding talent, but earlier this year, one of them did”

“What do you mean?”

“Your file didn’t come in to me. You were sent a rejection, weren’t you?”

The reminder is a punch to your gut, even though it’s in the past and irrelevant now.

“Did you never wonder how you got in…even after being rejected?” He asked, lips curling up, as if knows the secrets of the universe and is indulging you in all of them. He’s going to tell you it was a mistake after all. You weren’t meant for this. You’ve fucked up so bad.

You wipe the single tear on your cheek as you look up at him, “To be honest…I just decided to take the blessing, and not question further”

He smiled, eyes crinkling, “Of course you did. Well, I think you’d be interested to know how you ended up getting in” You’ve never questioned it until now, and you’re anticipating his next words, "On a hot summer morning, I was supposed to catch a train up north to visit my parents. It was my day off…I don’t get too many of those here” He laughed, “But obviously, I missed the train. Instead of taking the next one, I came back to my office. When I did, I saw your file. It was in the rejected pile, but I took a single look at it and I knew there’d been a mistake. I knew that you had to be in this program. Somebody must have overlooked it, and I’m thankful I saw yours”

Your eyes widened, “What do you mean?”

“I chose you, Y/N. Everybody else in this class was picked by my peers, by the committee, but you…I picked you myself, so you of all people shouldn’t be falling behind. You have an innate talent and I respect that a lot. I don’t want to be disappointed by you in the future. I know it’s intimidating to join in the middle of a semester, but you…belong here. Don’t question that. Don’t let it fuck you up”

You were dizzy with his compliment, perhaps this validation is the only thing you needed. You didn’t deserve this kindness, “You have a lot of confidence in someone who fucked up their painting so bad, Mr. Jieong”

“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here, Y/N”

“Right…um, thank you” Your lips tugged into a smile, and your chest felt lighter for the first time in a long time. He picked you.

“That’s the problem with your generation, you’re always doubting yourself so much” He chuckled again, “Imagine if I’d taken that train to see my parents. I’d never seen your application. It would have been such a shame to not have you here with me”

You nodded, standing up to leave, grabbing your things, “That’s a crazy coincidence… Why didn’t you take the train though?”

He shrugged, carrying your canvas for you, so he could walk you out, “They’d closed down the entire platform for a few hours, so couldn’t even if I wanted to”

You frowned, switching off all the lights and glanced at him as the room was plunged in darkness, “Huh. I didn’t know they do that…”

“I didn’t either, but apparently some famous guy was returning to Seoul that day. I’m guessing a lot of fans wanted to see him, there was too big of a crowd. So they ended up shutting down the whole platform. Made me miss my damn train”

“A… music artist?”

“Yeah! You might have seen it on the news. He’s one of Pegasus’ artists actually. I think he’s also a painter, like you.

The pain in your chest returned with a bang, “Oh…”

He laughed, “This city and its obsession with celebrities. But I guess if it wasn’t for that… you wouldn’t be here”

“Yeah…”

His hand landed on your shoulder, trying to comfort you but nothing could, “I guess that’s why they say coincidence is just another word for fate, huh?”

»»————-

Unread messages flooded your inbox. Some from Yeonjun, most from Felix… You haven’t ignored them on purpose. You just haven’t had time or the energy to get back to them. They all read the same anyway. Asking about your life in the city, and how it feels to live your dreams. A part of you thought it’s the universe being decidedly cruel to you — reminding you the irony of how you’ve never been this miserable in your life.

And then there was one from Kairi.

hey! i hope you’ve been doing good. i went to this cute new cafe in gangnam and i thought of you. i feel like we ended things on the wrong note. could we maybe have a redo of last time? if that’s okay with you

You don’t reply, because you have no idea what you’ll even talk about to her. It’s creepy to pursue friendship with Chan’s ex. You’re supposed to be moving on, not just from him, but from his entire world.

Your phone buzzes again and it’s a text from Minnie on your group chat. It’s just you, her and Jeonghan in it. You don’t talk too much here, just make plans for class and coffee. So you were surprised at what she had sent you. Maybe she feels pitiful after the way you embarrassed yourself in class earlier.

minnie: so you’re not gonna believe this yn.

yeah?

minnie: i have a friend of a friend, and he saw a picture of you on my instagram. he thinks you’re really fucking hot.

who?

minnie: just some guy. anyway, do you want me to set you up with him?

noo. please don’t

minnie: wait you didn’t let me finish. he works in the city, and i haven’t met him yet but my friend said he’s smart and funny. he seems like the kind of guy you’d like?

you’re trying to set me up with someone you’ve never met yourself?

minnie: omg its called a blind date girl

no dates. please.

minnie: all right :( anyway jamie and me are getting drunk tonight. do you wanna come?

You were trying really hard, to make casual conversation more often, to just be a normal fucking human who isn’t heartbroken and defined by your love for someone, so you said yes. You bought a bottle of wine from the store so you could bring it for them, as a gift for inviting you over.

Minnie’s place was…nice. It’s in the higher end of the city, and she definitely comes from money. You were gathered around her dining table, and you’re sitting with your knees up on her chair. Jamie was lying on the couch across you, and she’s very tipsy already. A glass of wine was balanced on her stomach, and they’re telling you the story of how they met — through mutual friends on a night out in the city, apparently it was love at first sight, and Jamie had asked Minnie out only days after they first met. You didn’t opt for alcohol tonight, instead, you were digging into a large tub of chocolate ice-cream.

Minnie was sitting cross-legged on the table, in her pajamas, “And then, guess what restaurant she picked for our first date? This…candle-lit fucking expensive place! I was so impressed, and kind of embarrassed I wouldn’t match the vibe—”

“But you looked fucking hot” Jamie interrupted, “We flirted the entire night, and then…we fucked on the very first date. At her place”

“Whoa…” You smiled at their story, tasting another spoonful of ice cream, “And…when did you start dating? Was it soon after that?”

“It’s embarrassing. She asked me to be her girlfriend…the same night” Minnie giggled, covering her face in her hands. She was definitely very tipsy, and you’d only seen her this cheerful around Jamie. In class, she was much more composed and serious, and it’s nice to see the side of her around her lover. She’s so much more open, and happier here.

“Oh” You realised, “And you’ve been together…three years now?”

Minnie grinned, shrugging, “I’d already fallen in love on the first date, no matter how stupid that sounds”

You smiled at that, and then buried yourself into the ice-cream cup again, licking flecks off the steel spoon. Minnie nudged you, snapping you out of it, “Are you ever gonna tell us what happened with your ex or are we supposed to guess?”

“Minnie…” You rest your head against the wall, “It’s really not as interesting as your story”

“Y/N….” She whined loudly, and she had made her way through the second bottle of wine, the one you’d brought, “You don’t trust us? I promise we’re not gonna judge. Please, please, please”

“It’s not about that” You sighed, but her excitement to know your past was endearing, “I just find it depressing to talk about”

“Well. That’s what we’re here for. How can you move on if you avoid it forever?” Jamie sat up, blanket wrapped around her, and Minnie even shifted closer to you. This felt nice…to have friends here, in a city you couldn’t call home yet.

She was right. The past shouldn’t be your vulnerability. You sighed, staring inside your empty cup, “Well, then I’m gonna need a hell of a lot more ice cream”

“Um, so this is about the guy you mentioned right? The one you had lost touch with?”

You knew you’d be asked this story one day. You had to tell this without naming names. You couldn’t compromise Hyunjin like that. To them, it would just be a guy from your town, not an idol, not someone famous. You curled up your legs, ripping open the plastic of the brand new strawberry ice-cream tub, “I don’t know where to start honestly. It’s kind of a long story, but…um, I had this crazy crush on a boy in my town. He was really cute. He was kind, and funny, and…really really fucking hot”

Minnie and Jamie laughed at that, eager ears as you continued, “I didn’t think anything would happen between us, because I thought he was into my best friend. Turns out he wasn’t. Me and him ended up kissing one night, it was romantic as hell. I kind of felt like…the main character in those coming-of-age 90s films. Because he was…so old-fashioned in a way? But also, really modern. He’s so romantic” You paused to breathe and all those memories are flooding back, “I was in this…pretty satin dress, and he was in a suit, with like a cropped jacket, and really cool pants. They fit him so well”

Minnie lived in a high-rise building, and from here, the city lights blinked in the distance, golden specks lighting up the horizon. The memory flooded through you, clear as day. Two people under the night sky, surrounded by mountains on all sides. He had shown you the stars and the sky. You remember telling him that stars would remind you of him now. He had held you in his arms, and imprinted his words into your soul, “And when I look at the city lights…I’ll think of you”

Was he thinking of you now?

The city lights were brighter than ever.

“Holy shit. Where did he take you on a date to? The Met Gala?” Jamie laughed, “I didn’t know guys our age even wear suits other than to funerals”

“No, it wasn’t a date date. It was just a fancy event in the town” Maybe you had terrible storytelling skills, because nothing made sense and it was all jumbled up, but they were listening intently so you continued anyway. No words could convey your first kiss with him. No sentences could capture your emotions, the lust, the love.

“But after that kiss, he regret it immediately. He wasn’t really looking for a relationship. Despite that we kept kissing, over and over…and we didn’t stop. It became a thing, I don’t really know what we were doing” You smiled softly, staring at the skyscraper lights from their window, a kaleidoscope of inappropriate memories projected on the glass. You lost your words, blaming your imagination for the way a film reel of those moments was cast onto the windows. Maybe you really were going crazy, staring at the glass, and seeing him touching you in the reflection. Heat rushed to your face, like your dirtiest thoughts were out on display, but Jamie and Minnie were quiet, and this was all in your head anyway. You took a larger serving of the ice-cream this time, the creamy texture melting on your tongue, “I guess that’s when I realised I was absolutely, insanely in love with him, but… then he had to leave”

“Leave for what? The military?” Minnie’s eyes were wide. Jamie shushed her, “Wait, let her talk babe. You can ask your questions later”

“No, not the military, just for his work, and then…” Then came the hard part of this story, “And then he blocked me. For a few months. I don’t know why”

They frowned, but they didn’t interrupt you, “I saw him in a shop downtown, and he completely walked past me at first…he ignored me. But when we met later, he kissed me. Then he told me he could never see me again” It sounded crazy told all together like this. It didn’t sound like your life. It sounded like a story from some tacky relationship podcast Jeonghan would listen to, but it was the truth. Their eyes were wide as you finished, and you stared at them, feeling naked and vulnerable, “That’s the gist of it”

“He sounds like an asshole” Jamie mumbled, pouring herself another drink. Your gaze shot up to hers. “Is thatwhat I’d made him seem like? That wasn’t my intention. He’s not an asshole, he’s…really nice”

Minnie frowned, “Yeah. No nice guy would do that to someone he cares about”

They didn’t know he was an idol, and they couldn’t know, so it was frustrating that they’d never understand all of it. How could they have guessed that it was forbidden for Hyunjin to love you?

“Honestly that sounds really fucked up. If he actually gave a shit about you, he wouldn’t have ghosted you in the first place, and then he had the nerve to kiss you? God, men are such dicks. As soon he had enough of the sex, he dropped you?”

They didn’t know all the nice things he’d said to you, or the nice things he’d done for you. You shook your head, “No, guys… it wasn’t just about the physical—”

“Did he ever tell you he loved you?”

You swallowed, “No…”

“And he told you he doesn’t do relationships” Jamie scoffed, “That’s what my friend’s ex was like. He said the same thing, and next year he got fucking married to another girl. This boy you’re telling us about…he’s obviously not going to be single forever, especially if he’s as nice as you say he is. If he actually saw any future with you, Y/N, he would have told you”

Minnie sighed, and it seemed like this very specific conversation about you had escalated into a hatred of most men, “It sounds like a fucked up situationship, and babe… if you give him so much importance it’ll only hurt you. He used you, because you’re so fucking nice. Not that that’s your fault, but…he’s just like every guy I know. They like the thrill of the chase, and when they actually get the girl, they’re bored of her”

A fucked up situationship? Maybe that’s what it actually was. Hyunjin had clearly stated that what you and him had only existed in Daejon. Here you were, calling it destiny, stupidly. Your vision became blurry as tears shot up to your eyes, and it was pathetic because you weren’t even drunk, you were just sad and loaded on strawberry ice-cream, “He’s not like that”

“Why are you defending him?”

You knew they were wrong. Obviously they were wrong, but is that what this seemed like to the outside world? That Hyunjin used you? Because you were easy…and nice?

Minnie reached out to touch your shoulder, comfortingly squeezing it, “You can do so much better than him, Y/N. From everything you said… he just sounds manipulative as hell”

You put the empty ice cream cup away, “Yeah” You mumbled, “So…what am I supposed to do now?”

“Get yourself out there! Go on dates. Kiss every guy in Seoul if you want to, if that makes you happy. You’re… fucking amazing. Are you seriously going to wait around for a guy who isn’t even trying for you?”

You’ve never been a casual person, but maybe that is what you need now. You’re done with world-shattering true loves. Even Hyunjin had casually been with girls before you, and the thought stung you that he might even be with girls after you. He only had an issue with relationships…and that’s why he’d pushed you away, because he couldn’t give you one. There’d be thousands of other girls who’d be willing to be with him - no label, no expectations, just sex. Yeah, you did need to get yourself out there. How bad could it be?

»»————-

The text said, Meet at eight.

It’s half past, and your date is not here.

You’d dressed yourself in a tight black dress, very revealing and you could hardly breathe. It was from a fancy store in your neighbourhood, and it was far too expensive, but it’d be worth it for tonight. You did your hair in a style Hana had taught you, and you haven’t dolled up like this in a long, long while. The last time you dressed yourself this much…was for the Paint and Wine event in the Château. Tonight is a first for you and you want to make a real good impression.

Although, it’s been more than thirty minutes and your date hasn’t shown up. You were sitting at the bar, getting anxious and impatient. Looking around, the place was full, everybody seemed to be on a date, and nobody’s looking at you. Nobody was looking for you. You’re only a little mortified, and the best case scenario is…that he got the timing wrong, or that he got busy and decided this wasn’t worth his time. Minnie told you he’s working, so he obviously has a more hectic schedule than yours. The worst case? That he saw you and left.

“Can I get you anything?” The bartender asked, leaning over the wooden bar, “You’ve been here a while…”

“I’m waiting for somebody to show up. A date…” You explained, and understanding settled into his features. He headed back to the rest of his customers, and you wonder if he’s going to gossip about the poor stood-up girl at the bar. They must see this a lot everyday. This bar seems fancy, your blind date suggested you meet here so he seems like a man with good standards. There’s a dance floor and blaring Latin music, which brings in most of the crowd. You texted Minnie, um am i at the right bar?

shit he’s not there yet?

You decided to order a drink so tonight isn’t useless after all, and you browsed through the flimsy, paper menu. It’s got stains of ketchup on it, and it’s gross but it reminds you that you hadn’t ate in hours. You wanted to be able to fit into this dress and to leave enough room for dinner with him. Your eyes caught sight of the familiar names of drinks that Hyunjin had wanted to make you but didn’t have the ingredients for. You ended up choosing a Tequila Sunrise instead. You don’t really want to taste an Italian Dolce Vita and discover what you missed out on that last night in Daejon with him.

An hour has passed now. You were most definitely stood-up, but you’re stubborn so you would stay until the end of tonight, and if he ever did show up you’d forgive your date in a second. Your drink was empty, you’d chugged it to calm your nerves. Your napkin was soggy, and the other couples who sat at the bar have already made their way to second base: the dance floor where they’re grinding up against each other. You have resorted to playing with the condensation drops on your glass, observing the way the water falls onto the countertop.

A blind date was how this had all started, back in the bowling alley, so why were you getting yourself into it again? Maybe you should have more dignity, and walk away right now, but you were so desperate. If you leave tonight, you’d never work up the courage again to go on a date, and you need this more than anything. You feel so stupid, and maybe Hana’s actions that past summer actually make sense anyway. You would do anything to forget Hyunjin. You’d date …almost anybody to get over him. Even if it’s a guy who kept you waiting for an hour by yourself.

“Hey. Um. Are you Y/N?” An unfamiliar voice asked. You turned around to see a boy in a maroon button-up. He’s finally here, and your heart calms a little because he’s actually cute. All Minnie had said about him was that he was smart and funny, so it’s a relief that he’s easy on the eyes too. He looked older than you, and he’s got kind eyes and curly hair. Although it’s a bit off-putting that he’s wearing a baseball cap indoors. It felt like you’re both dressed for different occasions, but you are not going to complain. No matter what happens tonight, you can’tcomplain. This isn’t the time to be picky. It’s the time to take whatever life throws at you, because clearly that’s the only way you’re going to find somebody genuinely interested in you.

“Hey, Kang-min, right?” You forced a smile at him, and suddenly you’re so nervous. This is the first real date you’ve ever been on in ages.

The boy took the empty barstool next to you, and eyed your glass, “Sorry I was late, I had a friend emergency. I hope you’re not drunk already. That’d be mean”

You smiled, watching the way he sat so comfortably like this was routine for him, “It was just one drink. Don’t worry, I just came here too” Just a little white lie so he wouldn’t feel too guilty.

His eyes flickered over your dress, falling to your cleavage, “Did you buy that just for me?”

It was so forward that it caught you off guard. Your eyes widened, and you don’t want to give away how much tonight could possibly mean to you. So you said, “Um. Depends. Do you like it?”

He laughed, gaze on your bare legs and thighs, shamelessly checking you out, “Guess you’ll find out”

You don’t really know what to say so you smile at him, hoping he also likes the shade of red lipstick you’re wearing. He looks around the place, catching a feel for it, and then back at you. He looked at the bartender, snapping his fingers to catch his attention and ordered a drink for himself. A large beer. Tasteful. He looked at you and asked, “So…what’s your damage, pretty?”

“Sorry?”

His drink arrived pretty fast, and he lift the large glass to his lips. In a single go, he finished all of it, and you’re surprised at how fast he drank this. He had foam on his upper lip as he said, “You agreed to go on a blind date. Your last relationship must have been seriously fucked up”

You hoped you masqueraded your frown, “I just wanted to try something new”

“Right…makes sense” He tsked, “So my friend told me you’re an artist”

You smiled, relieved the conversation steered in a direction you were familiar with, “Yup. I study at a studio in the city. It’s an art program under this artist--”

He interrupted you, “I hear artists infamously make almost no money, but I mean you’re living in Seoul. You must be pretty well off” He pointed at you, almost accusatory, a grin on his face, “Let me guess, rich parents. Trust fund. Private school education”

You shook your head, a little offended and surprised that he made such an assumption in five minutes of knowing you, “No. I…I worked a couple of years and saved up for this”

He called the bartender again, to order a second beer and seemed surprised, “That takes some serious hustle. Why art then? You could’ve picked anything in the world”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…not to offend anyone, but there’s no money in art. What’s the point of it then?”

“Um…” You laughed, nervously. You realised that you’ve never been asked this question before. Most people in your life knew you since birth, and never questioned your passion for it, “It’s just what I like to do. It makes me really happy to paint beautiful things—”

“So you don’t paint about real shit?”

“Sorry?”

“I think my personal pet peeve is when people pretend the world is so great and lovely, even though everything’s so fucked up. Seems like you look at the world with rose-tinted glasses, if you only like to paint all the nice, pretty things, and not something that actually matters”

“I think art can be about everything, and that’s the beauty of it. It doesn’t always have to make a social statement, but it can always be interpreted as such. Some art is just about capturing the beauty of our world, and that’s okay too” You forced a smile, wanting to get the heat off you, “Um so you never told me… What do you do?”

He looked at you over the rim of his glass, “I’m a pharmacy tech. In short; I make important phone calls, and deal with horribly annoying people”

So that’s why Minnie said he was smart, “Oh…that must have taken a lot of studying”

“Yeah. Not everyone can do it, but somebody has to” He laughed, “I stepped up. I make good money though. So, um, aren’t you going to get another drink, Y/N or are you a lightweight?”

“I’m good” You smiled, although you were hungry as fuck because you’d been waiting for him so long, “Maybe we could order the food now?”

“Here?” He chuckled, “It’s really not worth it, I only come here for the beer. You didn’t get dinner before this?”

“I…I thought we’d eat together”

He laughed, pushing his curls out of his face, “No, I’d rather get drunk with you…and we can dance”

You looked to the dance floor which smelled of sweat and other things you don’t want to think of, “Maybe we could just talk more. I’ll just get another drink then”

He smiled, then looked at the bartender, “A beer for the lady”

“Actually, I might get wine”

His eyes narrowed, and he chuckled, “Oh. Let me guess. You want the most expensive one, right?”

You blinked, “Um…no I’m okay with any. The cheapest one is fine too”

He laughed, throwing his head back, “No wine is cheap, pretty. ”

“I can pay for it” You offered. Ugh. You wanted him to like you so bad.

“No, no, you’re out with me. You should have a real drink” He went ahead and ordered a beer for you. He probably thought you were the most boring girl in this entire city, so you agreed. You needed tonight to go well. Obviously, he wasn’t anything like Hyunjin, but no one could be. If you compared every boy to him, you’d never find anybody. So this would have to do. You sipped on the beer, and it tasted bitter and so horrible, but you swallowed anyway, shooting him a smile. You’d been miserable for long, you needed to let go, and have fun. You could be that kind of girl.

He grinned, reaching forward to grab your thigh, fingers clawing against your skin, “You’re cute”

You were distracted by the suddenness of his touch, and you laughed, nervously, “Thank you. You’re cute too. I like your piercings”

“Yeah?” He tilt his head, smirking, “You’re like the tenth girl to say that to me. I must be doing something right”

You didn’t have much experience with first dates... was it always this fucking awkward? His hand was inching closer up your thigh. You shifted away slightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Sure, he was attractive, but you weren’t attracted to him yet. It was too soon.

“So…you said you’re late because of a friend emergency? What was it?” You wanted hoping to keep the conversation going, and to keep it interesting. You wanted to know more about him.

“Ugh. Do not remind me” He rolled his eyes.

“Sorry” You apologised, “Is your friend okay?”

“Nope. He ran out of some weed, so I had to run down and get some for him. Even though he knew I had a date tonight and hot girls rank higher in priority than weed”

“Oh…you seem like a good friend”

He was a perfectly cute boy, why couldn’t you let loose? Just because you’d been attracted to Hyunjin from the first time you saw him, did not mean it’d happen with everybody else. That kind of shit was once in a lifetime, and if you started expecting those sparks from every future relationship, you’d be lonely forever. But all you could wish for was him. The way he was around you, how he talked to you… the way your body was on fire when he so much as breathed near you. The thought choked you. There was no way you’d be hung up on him forever. You had to move on. It had to be as fast as possible, and tonight should be it. How often would a guy agree to go on a date with you anyway?

So, when his hand landed on your thigh again, and slipped under the hem of your dress, you didn’t stop him. You forced a smile, hoping somehow your body would cooperate, and you’d actually start enjoying it. His nails were long, digging into your upper thigh, inching closer to your underwear.

“Maybe we could play a drinking game or something. To get to know each other better” You suggested.

“Okay” He agreed, pulling his bar stool closer and leaned in, “Name of the last guy you fucked”

Your eyes widened, “Whoa. You’re getting right to it…” What game was this? Why would he want to know that anyway?

He tilt his head, smirking, “Don’t stall. You have fucked, right?”

Oh… So he just wanted to know if you were a virgin. “Yeah. I have” You tried to change the topic, trying not to feel disgusted at this implication, “Isn’t it my turn to ask you something now? I mean…according to the game”

Kangmin smiled, lazily, running a hand through his curls, “You’re…already playing pretty hard to get though. We’ll have plenty of time to know each other. My place is pretty close. We’ve got all night.”

So…he probably only picked this bar because he lived close by. Maybe this was his way of flirting with you, or you ended up going on a date with the worst guy in Korea. This was how the rest of your life would be? He leaned in closer to you, and his breath reeked of beer, and you realised in horror that he wanted to kiss you. You couldn’t. You moved away, before his lips could touch yours, hoping your unease would disappear, “Sorry. I’m nervous”

He hummed, almost taking this as a challenge, hand sliding under your dress completely, “A few more drinks then?”

You felt nauseous, instead of turned on. God, what the fuck were you doing here. This was a mistake. You couldn’t do this. “Actually. I’m just…gonna run to the bathroom for a minute” You grabbed your purse.

He sat up straighter, a smirk on his lips, “Oh? That’s where you want to take this?"

Your eyes widened at his implication, “What? No…I…I just need to go”

“Oh” He looked disappointed, and a little confused, like he couldn’t comprehend why you wouldn’t want to fuck him in a random club bathroom.

You got up, making your way through the dance floor. When you looked back, he was already ordering another beer for the two of you. You shouldn’t have agreed to this date. You don’t know what you expected. It had surely helped Hana, but she moved on from Yeonjun with Hyunjin. Of course that helped her. For their date, he took her to the coolest Japanese restaurant in Daejon, and a part of you thought tonight could be like that. Of course it couldn’t. That was her. That was him. This was all you.

It was freezing outside, and there was an alley of smokers right at the exit. Mostly old men, and some younger girls, blowing puffs of smoke into your face as you passed them. You leaned against the brick wall, trying to book a cab, but to your luck, there were none available. Your first instinct was to text Yeonjun, but he was on a work retreat, as far as you remember. Although Jeonghan… had told you he was going to be out in the city today. If he was close enough…maybe he could help you get home. You dialled his number.

“Y/N! how’s it going?” He asked, and then immediately said, “Wait, if you’re calling me in the middle of your date that means—”

“Can you come pick me up? Please. There’s no taxis” You blurted. A few of the smokers were eyeing you up, and you covered your chest with your arms, stepping away from their cloud of smoke, “And um…I don’t feel comfortable taking the train back alone”

He paused, “Uhh…you’re at the bar downtown?”

“Yeah…I know it’s out of the way. I’m really sorry to bother you, I just—”

“I’m on my way, Y/N. Don’t apologise”

You squeezed your eyes shut in relief. You tried to catch your breath, but there was no fresh air here. Minutes passed so slowly, and you were shivering against the brick wall. Everytime a guy approached you, you just pretended to be on your phone, hoping Jeonghan would be here soon. The back door to the club opened, and your blind date, Kang-min stepped out. He walked straight to you, and he looked…really pissed. You straightened up, watching him get closer. “What the fuck?” He laughed, “I was waiting for you to come back”

“I…I’m sorry” You apologised, “I was feeling sick”

He seemed upset, “You didn’t even pay for your drink”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I just—” You reached into your purse, but just as you did, you spotted Jeonghan on the other side of the street. When he saw you, he did a little jog up to you.

You looked back at Kang-min, “I have to go. My friend is here”

“What?” Your blind date asked, stepping closer.

“Whoa, whoa. Back off, dude" Jeonghan made it to you, eyes narrowed at him, “Let’s go, Y/N” He grabbed your hand, pulling you to his side.

Kang-min laughed, “Whatever. You aren’t even that hot, bitch”

Before you could say anything, Jeonghan tugged at your hand, taking you away from a possible confrontation, “Come on, the subway is close by”

“Fuck. Shit. I’m really sorry” You apologised, running your hands through your hair, trying to process what you just put yourself through. You followed behind him as you walked to the nearest station. He shook his head, making sure you stayed close to him, “No, no don’t be. I’m sorry it took me so long. I missed this stop at first”

Technically, you could have taken the train home yourself, but it was late and…you were in the worst mood. Jeonghan bought the tickets, and you waited at the platform, squeezing your purse in your hands. A little bakery was still open at the station, and he asked, “You already ate dinner, right?”

“Yeah. Let’s just go home” You mumbled. He did not need to know that your supposed fancy dinner date consisted of only cheap beer. You could have some cold pizza when you got home. The train arrived, and you boarded it, standing next to him in a corner, away from the crowd. You were so fucking embarrassed, but he wasn’t judging you.

So no more blind dates for you then… or perhaps it was a work in progress, and you would just have to keep powering through. It wasn’t Minnie’s fault either, she had no idea about the guy being…such an asshole. You stared out at the window as the train whizzed by stations, trying to not feel so sorry for yourself. Jeonghan asked you about the blind date, and you told him the gist of it.

He shook his head, releasing a groan, “That sounds really annoying, sorry. It sucks that most guys I know here are all like that. I’m surprised he even let you leave”

You swallowed, “Yeah. Were you busy when I called?”

“I was just working on an assignment”

“Oh, I’m sorry”

“I’m obviously kidding” He laughed, “It’s a Saturday night, I was at a party at my friends’”

“Oh. Is he gonna be mad you left?”

“It doesn’t matter. I told him my friend needed help getting out of a date. He totally understood. This happens here more than you think, unfortunately”

Your place wasn’t too far from the bar, and you arrived sooner than you thought. Jeonghan even chose to walk you home, not wanting you to take any deserted alleys on your own. You stopped in front of your building, and he asked you, “You gonna be fine?”

You blew a puff of cold air, leaning against the front wall, “Yeah. I just…I don’t think I should have gone on the date”

He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, smiling at you, “At least you have a funny story to tell the kids”

You scoffed, “What kids? At this rate, I’m going to die alone”

“You’re dramatic. I’m sure the other dates you go on will be better. Hopefully”

“Yeah…” You already dreaded the idea of going on more dates, “I just thought…it’d help me not be stuck in the past, you know? Or maybe the only thing that can help me is that potion from the movie you were telling me about. Eternal Sunshine, was it?”

Jeonghan laughed loudly, “It’s not a potion, Y/N! It’s a science fiction movie, not fantasy”

You rolled your eyes, smiling, “Whatever”

“Maybe we can get you on a dating app. If you’re looking to casually mess around with a decent guy, those are good. It requires more effort, but…some guys are sweet. At least better than the blind date you had”

You smiled, “Hmm. Are you on a dating app?”

“Why? Would you swipe on me, if you saw me on one?” He sounded so coy.

Your eyes flickered over him. Under the lights on the street where you lived, Jeonghan looked pretty. He looked safe. Tonight he was dressed in a simple white tee, a flannel covering him, hanging off one shoulder. You smiled, a flush rising to your cheeks, “No but seriously, thanks for…rescuing me tonight”

“Mmh, that was very damsel in distress of you to call me like that”

You smiled up at him, “Don’t push it”

“I’m just surprised you actually agreed to go on a date. Minnie and her girlfriend must have had some magical convincing powers”

You sighed, “I thought kissing somebody else would help me. Maybe I should have just let him kiss me, but I might have thrown up if he did. Tonight…was an absolute failure.”

Jeonghan let out a soft hum at your words, “I see”

“What?” You frowned, standing up straighter.

“Ah. Don’t pout. Wasn’t a total failure. I got to see you all dressed up. You’re usually showing up to class in just sweats”

“Are you making fun of my heartbreak?” You laughed, pushing him lightly.

He stumbled back on the curb, laughing, “And are you trying to kill me? Don’t push me onto the road, Y/N!”

You giggled, pulling him back on the sidewalk, “There’s no cars, Jeonghan. You’re so dramatic”

He frowned, throwing his hands up, “I was just saying that if you want to kiss someone tonight. I…wouldn’t be totally opposed to the idea.”

He floated that suggestion so casually. Your eyes widened at it, and you didn’t know what to make of it, “You’re…joking, right?”

He shrugged, and there was no nervousness, “If your big dream of tonight was to kiss some guy…I mean, you’re my friend. It’s not a big deal”

“So a pity kiss?” You frowned, but a smile tugged at your lips.

He rolled his eyes, “Oh my god. If you don’t want a kiss, then just—”

You didn’t let him finish, stepping ahead, hand grabbing his face down to yours. Your mouth met his, if only to shut him up. He immediately kissed you back, hands threading through your hair, messing up your fancy hair. His lips were rough, but it was nice…because it was different. That’s exactly what you wanted right now, a taste of something new and unfamiliar. Maybe you were trying to prove something by kissing him. He stepped ahead to be closer, and tilt his head, deepening the kiss. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you pulled away. It only lasted a few seconds.

He pulled back too, mouth stained from your lipstick, “Mm. That wasn’t too bad”

You stared up at him, “You’re so annoying”

He hummed, voice breathy, “Your lips are really soft, Y/N. What lip balm do you use?”

You sighed, “I should have just pushed you on the street”

“Ouch. I just gave you a pity kiss and you have the audacity to threaten me?”

“Shut up!” You laughed, shoving him away. You were thankful he didn’t make this awkward and didn’t read into it.

“No, I’m serious. It was really, really good. You’re a great kisser…but I should tell you, and this is really important…”

“Yes…?”

“You taste like cheap beer”

“Ugh…I know” You closed your eyes, feeling tiredness seep into your limbs, “Anyway, I should go”

He nodded at you, “Yup. See you in class tomorrow”

You waved goodbye, making your way up to your apartment, feeling the sensation of his lips on yours still. The kiss was nice…but there was nothing electric about it. It was nothing like what it could be. It’s like you’d taken one step forward, and two steps back. Tonight was all about moving on, but everything that happened had just made you miss Hyunjin more.

»»————-

This time, you bought the coffee. You found a cute table, over by the window, and you waited. Your earphones were plugged in, but it’s on mute, and you’re choosing to listen to the sounds of the cafe instead. The cafe you discovered with your friends was so cute. Plants hung from every corner, and there was cool seating; couches with crochet pillows and pink heart-shaped seats. It had so much personality, and it fuelled your inspiration. It could be your new haven.

The chair opposite you shifted, and Kairi sat down. “There you are. I’m dying for some caffeine” She smiled, cherry-colored lips. She was dressed in a fleece bomber jacket. You shot her a smile, trying to not be nervous, “Hey… Did you want a Mocha? I wasn’t sure if you’d like the same as last time”

“Americano” She told you, settling comfortably like you did this each day. She had been so sweet to you even in the few moments you had with her. She was a breath of fresh air. So, after your failure of a date, you had finally texted her back, and decided to let her into your life. Maybe you could immerse yourself into your new friendships, and you could move on like that. When you were standing in line to buy her coffee, you glanced in her direction and she was smiling at you, fondly. She hadn’t seemed upset that you didn’t text her back for so long. You wondered how much she knew about you, how much Hyunjin told her, or even Chan.

When you walked back to the table with coffee and snacks, you feared there might not be anything to talk about if she already has existing assumptions of you, but once your conversation started…it didn’t end.

“So you’ve only been here a few weeks right?” Kairi was sipping on her coffee, a plate of half-eaten biscuits laid between you. From here, you had a perfect view of the street and it looked Parisian. It’s good for people-watching, but right now, Kairi’s the most interesting thing here, “You seem like you’re settling in well”

“I think so. I’ve lost track” You answered her, reaching for a biscuit, “I moved here in the fall, and it’s almost winter now, but it also feels like no time has passed”

“You’re so lucky” She hummed.

You lift an eyebrow, “Why?”

“I’ve always had this crazy dream, to move somewhere new. A place where people would have absolutely no idea who I am. I could have a new name, new job” She laughed, “Like a secret identity”

“Why would you want that?”

She shrugged, wiping biscuit crumbs off her mouth, “I’m curious to see what kind of person I might be in another country… if I’d behave differently, if I’d have different reactions to situations…if I’d have the same kind of friends, or job”

“Oh…wow” You blinked, “You’ve actually thought it through”

“Well, yes” She shook her head, smiling, “You did start over. How’s that been for you, Y/N?"

You leaned back in your seat, it’s a plush leather and pink in color. In this moment, it doesn’t feel like this is the first real conversation you’re having with her, “It’s harder in practice, Kairi. I think your baggage ends up following you everywhere”

She leaned forward, and her eyes were sparkling, “No, but what if it didn’t? What if you could have…a clean slate? What would you do, Y/N?”

“What would I do….?” You’re left wondering. In a way, Seoul was your clean slate, but you’ve let it be tainted by your sadness, “I think I’d move to Paris…or a big city like Milan. I would…have a cool, catchy name, and I’d dye my hair a crazy color”

Kairi laughed, “Really? And what would you do in a city so big?”

“I don’t know. I would love to set up those little stalls at crowded places like the Eiffel Tower, and paint tourists, capturing them at their happiest. People are always so carefree on their vacations, and they’re always dressed their best. Even if I don’t make much money doing their portraits…I’d kill to give them a beautiful memory, something they could hang on their fridge door or something, you know what I mean? It’s not ambitious at all but man, I could imagine doing that for years and enjoying it”

Kairi was smiling wide, eyes crinkling as you talked, and you suddenly felt embarrassed for the way you’d been rambling, “Um sorry. I don’t know what came over me. That’s not what you asked”

This was strange because…you haven’t felt excited like this in a long while. You felt inspired. It’s as if something has changed, just from her presence. She put you at ease.

“No, you’re so cute. Your dreams are beautifully simplistic” She told you, and you almost blushed.

“What would you do, Kairi? If you could be anyone in the world?” You had a newfound vigor and energy, only from this conversation alone. Was it really so simple to find motivation?

“I would move to the countrysides of Japan…or an island in Hawaii. Somewhere away from people. It would be nice to have so much time for myself, and not be surrounded by millions of others”

Your heart warmed hearing her talk, “We want the exact opposite things. That’s kind of funny. You should move to Daejon”

Kairi laughed, “Hyunjin told me it was beautiful”

Your smile fell, momentarily, and you nodded, “It is. Yeah. What else did he tell you…about me?”

Her lips parted, to answer, but before she could, your phone buzzed loudly on the table.

“Who is that?” She asked. You looked up at her in surprise. “Sorry” She apologised, cheeky, “I’m nosy like that”

“It’s my neighbour” You told her, reading Jeongin’s text, “Apparently he locked himself out. He needs help getting back in”

She frowned, “That’s annoying”

“Yeah, he’s always helping me get in, like every second day…” You told her, typing in a reply to tell Jeongin you’d be there soon.

Kairi sat up straighter, a sad pout on her face, “I guess that means you have to leave”

“Yeah. Shit” You realised, “I’m sorry. I would like to stay more—”

She reached across the table, grabbing your hand, and you noticed she’s wearing a charm bracelet, similar to one you had, “Don’t worry about it. You’ll just have to make it up to me then”

You tilt your head, “How?”

“Same time. Tomorrow”

You smiled at her eagerness, “Um…I’m not sure if I’ll be free, Kairi. I might have class…”

She squeezed your hand, “Regardless, I’ll be here. I have some work on my laptop…and I prefer to work out here, so…”

And that was it.

You rushed home to Jeongin, helping him get into the building, and he was intensely apologetic of cutting your plan short. He’d been standing on the porch steps, hands in his pockets, and a sheepish smile on his face, “Shit. I ruined your day, didn’t I?”

You shook your head, inserting your keys into the doorknob, “Not at all. I wasn’t going to let you stand out here in the cold. And are we still in the 18th century? You should talk to Mr. Kwon and have digital keypads put in or something. He loves you, so he’d listen to you”

He watched you from where he stood, arms crossed over his chest, “What happened today?”

You glanced back at him, “Sorry?”

“You haven’t had a proper conversation with me in days”

You stilled, not realising that you’d done so, you hadn’t meant to be so flippant, “Jeongin, I’m sorry, I…”

“You don’t need to apologise. It’s good. I like it. You seem chatty today”

You smiled, “Um. I just met a friend for coffee”

“Ah. Is that all it takes to win your heart?”

You rolled your eyes, “Stop…”

“Is it the same friend that dropped you off the other day? That boy?”

Your eyes widened, “How do you know that? Have you been spying on me”

“You wish” He walked past you on the stairs, “That was an awkward kiss, Y/N. Haven’t your friends in the city taught you anything yet?”

You gasped, following up after him, “What do you mean it was awkward?”

Jeongin laughed, stopping in front of his apartment door, “I’m kidding. Is that dude your boyfriend?”

You hugged your bag, leaning against the stairwell, “No… he’s just my friend from class”

Jeongin smiled, “I see…well, if you ever wanna hang out with someone not from your class…” He pointed to his door, “My doorbell’s right here”

Then he left, and you stood at the stairwell, a soft smile on your face.

»»————-

The table by the window with the heart-shaped chairs was occupied. Kairi sat on one side, laptop before her, a cup of tea and a gochujang sandwich with the meat spilled out. The chair opposite her was empty, for you. She didn’t see you when you walked in, too busy typing super fast on the laptop. “No coffee today?” You asked, sitting down.

She seemed surprised, cheeks dimpling as she smiled at you, looking away from her work, “You made it. How was class?”

You hung your scarf over the back of the pink seat, glancing outside. It could have been a beautiful afternoon, if the weather weren’t so dreary. “It was just work in studio time... I left early.”

“You’re kidding me. I feel special” She grinned, eyebrows raising teasingly. She is special. There’s something about her that’s changed the energy in you, making you get out of bed today.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting” You admitted, folding your arms on the little table, “And I thought we could pick up where we left off. I was wondering about it all night”

“Hmm, right. You can text me too, you know?” She leaned forward, head in her hands, “You asked me a question yesterday. You still want to know?”

You’d asked her what Hyunjin had said about you, and you swallowed. Immediately there’s a damper in your mood, “I…I was just really curious, because…” What if he talked shit about you? What if all she knew about you were your flaws? Your gut hurt and you shook your head, “Actually, I don’t want to know, never mind”

She sensed the drop in you, “Don’t worry about that. You’re mine to know now”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…I want to know you on my own terms. Not through secondhand stories of your personality. We don’t need to talk about him, at all”

It’s like a weight lifted off your chest, “We don’t…?”

You don’t want your friendship with her to stem from Hyunjin, because…Hyunjin has given up on you. He’s lost all hope for the two of you, and you can’t let that taint this new beginning. In an ideal world, you could erase him from your mind, and nothing would be tainted by the beauty of his existence. He’s ruined everything for you, because the happiness of nothing can compare to him.

You want the exclusivity of her. She wants to know you without the attached drama of broken hearts. You also want to know the real Kairi, without Chan, and it seems like she wants to know you too, without Hyunjin.

“We don’t have to ever talk about him, if you don’t want to. I don’t want to spend all our time talking about boys anyway” She smiled, and it’s a relief. Your shoulders relax. You don’t want to relive the past like you did with Minnie and Jamie.

You smiled too, “Well anyway…I see that you’re having tea today”

She laughed, a pleasant sound that calmed you, “Well, if we’re going to be doing this everyday, I have to start being more healthy”

“Everyday…?”

A single cup of coffee turned into a week’s worth. A week turned into a month, and quickly, it became obvious that she was your favourite person to hang out with in the city. Yeonjun was there, but he was different. Jeonghan and Minnie were closer to you everyday, but you only talked about art. Kairi and you talked about everything, and anything. Anything except him. She told you about her work, about the drama and the gossip with her coworkers. You told her about the movies Felix used to drag you to, and the music that played on repeat in Aera’s. You hadn’t made time for a movie since forever, so one day, she took you to the theater and instead of your routine coffee, you had soda.

You like to sketch while you talk, and she sits across you, finishing up her work. Her corporate job is tough, but you keep each other entertained. Your art still isn’t too inspired. You’re struggling, and you come home to an empty bed each night. There’s nights you get lost in the memories of summer, and there are mornings when you wake up from dreams of him. Sweet dreams. Dirty dreams. Beautiful, out-of reach dreams. In your dreams, he’s yours still.

All your afternoon naps remind you of him. Something about the sunlight, the warm wooden floors and you have an urge to be in his arms. So you stop sleeping during the day. In the moonlight and secrecy of your bed, you still touch yourself to thoughts of only one boy. You can’t help it.

All of the people who said time heals all wounds, were actually right. Each day, the burden is less. It feels like you were inching closer and closer to a state of not just being heartbroken. You had your moments though, like when Jeonghan would take you home after class, the skyscrapers would reflect onto the train windows, and you’d think of how prettier the blinding lights would be through Hyunjin’s eyes. Your own couldn’t capture the beauty he could see.

There’d be moments -- when someone in the coffee shop would order a vanilla iced latte with whipped cream and sprinkles, and your heart would skip a beat, wondering if he’d be on the other end of the counter to take it. But of course, Hyunjin could never walk into a crowded coffee shop in the middle of Seoul.

On the other hand…Kairi and you are closer every day. The day you invited her to your apartment, she met Jeongin on the staircase, and she fawned over how contagious his smile was. She picked you up from the Atelier one day, and bumped into your friends from class, and she loved them too. She can be intimidating sometimes, with her classy clothes, bold personality…but she has endless love to give to everyone, and she’s not a fan of keeping it hidden. You love that the most about her. It’s easy to be happier around her. You wonder how her and Chan ever made it work. A love like theirs shouldn’t be behind closed doors.

On a Thursday afternoon, you were none the wiser when she told you, “So…my birthday’s next week”

You spilled your coffee at the revelation, staring up at her in shock, “You’re telling me now?”

Her eyes widened at the reaction, and she pulled out a tissue from the dispenser to wipe the table clean as she laughed, “Why not?”

“That’s…not enough time”

“For?”

“I have to buy you a present”

She giggled, “A present? You don’t need to, Y/N”

You scoffed, and you’re so much more comfortable around her now, “I kind of have an obsessive problem when it comes to birthdays”

She shook her head, “You really don’t need to get me anything. Some of my friends from work are throwing a party, and I’d like you to be there. Obviously”

“A party?”

She smiled, “It’ll be fun. You can invite Jeonghan too. It won’t be too big a thing, but I’m guessing there’s gonna be a lot of plus-ones”

“Where is it?”

She smiled, sipping her coffee in between. She’d given up on tea after the first time, “So…there are these campgrounds outside Seoul. It’s a few hours from the city, it’s alongside the bank of the Han River. There’s a lot of…outdoorsy shit there, volleyball courts, barbecue grills, some cabins if anyone wants to stay overnight, canoes. I was thinking it’d be nice to go there.

“That…sounds amazing actually”

“I don’t know what to wear yet. Everybody’s going to be in swimsuits, since the river’s right there and my friends all love to go out on it, skinny dip and everything”

“Oh wow” You blinked, and Kairi’s friends sound as free-spirited as her, “Maybe…I could help you choose what to wear?”

She clapped her hands, a wide smile on her face and you love seeing her like this, “Perfect. I know what we’re doing tomorrow”

»»————-

The curtains of the trial room parted, and Kairi stepped out, doing a spin for you. The lights of the boutique are harsh, but Kairi looks amazing. She doesn’t dress up much — you’ve seen her entire range of dark sweaters, and graphic jackets over the weeks by now.

“Shit, you look amazing” You realised, eyes roaming her figure. A black bikini hugged her tightly, and it was the sexiest swimsuit you’d ever seen. Under the bust, two silver chains hugged her torso, sparkling under the store lights, wrapping around her navel too.

She had a smile on her lips, and she seemed satisfied with it too, “Is this the one?”

You’re in a cute boutique, it sells dresses and swimsuits and silver jewellery. It’s decorated prettily, and there’s not many people here because it’s not summer. It’s rapidly approaching winter, and in a few weeks, it’ll be Christmas.

“It’s the one” You nodded, standing up to circle around her, “You look…gorgeous. Everybody will fall in love with you”

Her smile fell at those words.

You must have said the wrong thing, “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, “Chris would love it so much. He was always hyping me up, especially when I bought new clothes because I barely ever did”

She didn’t talk about him much. In fact, this was one of the first few times she brought him up. Every time she did talk about him, it was with confidence. They had broken up ages ago, but she was never angry about it. How does she possess such ease in her, to talk of a failed love? If it was so confident, why would it end?

With trepidation, you voiced your thoughts, “Can I…ask you what happened?”

It was a shot in the dark, of course. She didn’t have to tell you the truth, and you could handle not knowing. She wasn’t surprised you’d asked. She just sat down on the boutique floor, stretching her legs onto the fluffy carpet, “Uh…it’s not that big of a deal”

You joined her, crossing your legs, touching her hand, “You can tell me, but only if you’re comfortable with that”

“Someone threatened to kill me” She chuckled.

“What?”

“It was probably an empty threat” She shrugged, “No big deal”

“But…why? What, I don’t understand?”

She tilt her head, “You know Yoko Ono?”

“John Lennon’s wife?”

She nodded, “After she got married to him, and The Beatles broke up…everybody blamed her for it. Apparently he was putting her before the music, and she was one of the reasons the band ended. Could you imagine how much people hated her? They singlehandedly blamed her for the breakup of…the most iconic band in the world”

Your brows furrowed, “But what has that got to do with you?”

“A few months ago, a paparazzi spotted Chan…at a luxury store” She breathed in. Your heart skipped a beat, watching Kairi talk.

“I guess he was…looking at engagement rings. I don’t know for sure. Maybe he was buying something for himself” She breathed, “But after the news of that came out and people realised that the Bang Chan may be getting married…”

“Oh…”

“People think I’m gonna be the Yoko Ono here” She forced a smile, “That he’s gonna get caught up in this relationship, and not pay attention to their music. That he’ll choose me over the fame”

“Kairi…I’m so sorry” You traced a soothing circle on her skin, but you had goosebumps from just listening to her, “That’s fucking unfair”

“Anyway, those pictures were the beginning of the threats. I wasn’t too concerned…because honestly, Chris is the only thing that mattered to me, if he was happy, if he was okay. As long as he was good, I would be too. But Pegasus thought they were real. And Chris…he was scared for me”

“I’d be scared too”

She let out another scoff, but she was shaking, and you could tell how much this bothered her, “So instead of marrying the love of my life…we broke up.”

Your chest wrenched, “I’m…so sorry, Kairi”

She nodded, head bending down, and squeezed your hand, “I’m sorry too. It’s stupid that the entire life me and him had planned together may not ever happen because of a few threats posted online by losers. Maybe they were real though. I don’t know. I guess I’ll never know”

“Couldn’t the company do something about it?”

She scoffed, “The company won’t do shit. They can protect Chris all they want, but they’d never step up to protect his partner. Their entire image revolves around them being single…and available. Sex sells. Their sex appeal is more important to them than his life”

It wasn’t a competition, but her heartbreak was much worse than yours. She had everything, and then she lost it. You mumbled, and you hurt for her, “It’s…not fair at all”

“Yeah. Anyway, me and Chris weren’t getting along towards the end of that. We disagreed on a lot of shit.” She nodded, lifting her head up to meet yours, “The breakup was hard on the others too. Especially Hyunjin, he…” She paused, “It’s almost like he took it personally”

The name sang to your heart, coursing through your veins like lifeblood, making your pulse quicker. “He loved the two of you together” You ended up saying.

Kairi smiled at you, “He tell you about us?”

“Yeah…he said I’d really love you”

She smiled, eyes crinkling, “He was clearly right about that”

“Can I… ask you something?” You said, and she nodded, “Do you ever think you’ll get back together?”

She smiled, “I mean, I can hope, but unfortunately…the decision would have to lie with Chris. If things go wrong, he could lose everything. I would lose nothing…except him. So in the end, it’s up to him. Right now, I think it’s impossible. In summer, a news website threatened to publish about our relationship. Chris isn’t equipped to deal with the fallout that comes with that”

“Oh…I’m sorry”

She took another breath, “Um, we should probably get off the floor before the employees sees us. It’s your turn to try on a bikini anyway”

You couldn’t understand where she conjured up all her positivity from, and you shook your head once you realised what she’d said, “Oh, no Kairi, I have a swimsuit already”

She shrugged, tugging your arm to make you stand up, “You’re going to get a new one though. It’s my birthday, you have to”

“But…” You protested, as she lightly shoved you towards the rack. Tons of bikinis hung on it, ranging from all different styles and colors. Ombre, mismatched, bejeweled. “I don’t know…” You touched the material of a blue one, wondering how you’d pick one.

“How about this lilac?” She asked, pulling a set out. It was too sexy, and too out there. It was the kind of thing Hana would force you to wear. Kairi must have noticed the drop in your expression, because she spoke, “Actually, I’m sure we can find another one”

After some looking around and a lot of nudges from her, you settled on a red bikini set. It was…beautiful. It looked like a thing you’d see on a model in a catalogue. There were metal hearts instead of strings, on either side of the underwear. You’d never be one for vanity, but right now…you could stare at yourself for hours. It fit you perfectly, like nothing else ever had, almost as if it was made for just your body, nobody else’s. When you stepped out, Kairi was patiently waiting on the ottoman. She was rocking her heels back and forth, and she still hadn’t changed out of her final pick, “Holy shit” She grinned, “We’re…gonna look so fucking hot!”

You giggled, “You’re looking forward to it, right? I wanna help your friends plan it too, if that’s okay”

She pulled you into a hug, warm arms enveloping around you. You were still in your swimsuits with the tags on, but you melted into her embrace as she mumbled, “Of course that’s okay! Plus, you’re gonna be there …so I’m not worried about anything”

»»————-

The campgrounds were beautiful, and the party was in full swing. Green grass stretched for miles, running alongside the Han river. Bordering on the outskirts of Seoul, it was far from all the noise, the pollution, and the constant ringing of the sirens. They weren’t just normal campgrounds though. Instead of cabins, there were little glass houses, hidden beneath trees with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the river, which people could book for vacation rentals all year round. Everything in the city was more boujee. Even nature. It’s like the city folk had figured a way to camp without the mosquitos and the discomfort and glamorised it, fit for celebrities and socialites.

A volleyball court was constructed on a stretch of sand, and a wooden dock extended onto the river, canoes attached to it that anybody could borrow. Pink and yellow inflatables floated down the water, occupied by some of Kairi’s friends who were already so drunk and it was only midday.

Pretty lanterns hung across poles, the only lighting for this place, and even a freaking DJ booth was set up by the bonfire. It all had a modern festival vibe, and Kairi told you that this place usually booked a lot of small rock gigs over weekends. The campgrounds were public, but she had rented out an area for the day. Her friends from work were originally supposed to be planning everything, but you were also helping them now. For someone who hated parties, you sure loved planning them. It was a perfect distraction, from the stress of classes. The venue for Felix’s birthday had been naturally beautiful, but it couldn’t compare to the extravagance of the city.

You’d driven up here in the early hours of the morning, and Jeonghan had been a boon. He’d helped you unload the crate of beers from his car, loading them into ice-cold pink coolers you’d situated every few metres across the riverbank. It was a hotter day than usual, despite the city being on the brink of imminent snowfall, so cold drinks…were a must.

Most people had arrived at the campgrounds in the late afternoon, checking in at the front-desk before making their way towards the river. Kairi had a ton of friends, most of them from work, and you weren’t the corporate type, so you maintained a little distance, choosing to be orchestrating everything behind the scenes more. That’s why you were at the barbecue right now, grilling meat for some hotdogs.

Jeonghan had long abandoned you. His red swim shorts are easy to spot, and the official dress code of this party was just swimwear. He was supposed to be helping you cook but he was stretched out on the riverbank, sketching instead. He must have been really inspired, and from where you stood, you could see him with his feet up in the sky, nose buried in a little sketchbook. It was sweet of him to come, and he was the only person you knew, so you were grateful that he was here.

A frisbee whizzed past you, and you looked up to see Kairi giggling. “Shit! I almost hit you, didn’t I?” She looked beautiful, and the silver chains on her swimsuit sparkled in the sun as she ran around the grass, indulged in a serious game of frisbee with her friends. You smiled back at her, “I’ll forgive you, but only because it’s your birthday”

Ever since she’d told you the truth of what went down between her and Chan, you’d grown fonder of her, and almost protective in a sense. She was so much stronger than you, and you could learn a little from her in terms of positivity. She had introduced you to all her friends, but they were too many names for you to remember. Sohee, Jinsoo, Eric, etc. You’d assigned yourself to the snacks, not feeling too confident in greeting her guests.

“Do you want it crispy all the way through?” You called out to her, pork belly sizzling against the pan as you tossed it. This made you feel useful. It was better to not let your mind wander, instead you filled it with little responsibilities such as this.

She ran up to the grill, frisbee still in her hands, “Why are you all the way over here?”

You gestured to the barbeque, and the plates of snacks, “Somebody’s got to feed your guests”

“They can feed themselves, Y/N. We should go in the river while the sun is still out!” She grabbed your arm, and started leading you away from the barbecue, “I’m sure Nate can take over anyway”

You weren’t going to argue with that. You’d missed swimming, and being in the water, so, you let her pull you into the river. In the cold water, surrounded by nature on all sides, it almost felt like home. Kairi swam over to you, a big smile on her face, “Fuck. The sun feels so good”

You drifted closer, smiling, “I’m glad you’re happy. It’s kind of your day, you should be”

“I’m really, really fucking grateful that dude spilled a drink on me and we met in that club bathroom…”

You laughed, clasping your hand with hers as you swam in the water together, “Well. I’m sure there’s nicer ways for us to meet”

She rolled her eyes, “No, are you kidding? That was the best one. I needed someone like you in my life”

You giggled, “Someone like me?”

“We haven’t even know each other that long, if you think about it. Honestly, I never even thought you’d text me back, because…of him” She paused, “But I think you sacrifice your peace for others, and…I don’t know anyone else like you”

You swallowed, and you didn’t want to get emotional in the middle of the river, “Kairi…tell me you didn’t bring me in the water just to make me cry”

“Actually” She corrected herself, a small chuckle following, “I did know one person like you”

You don’t have to probe to know she’s talking about Chan.

“You remind me of him. As crazy as that sounds” She hummed.

“I’m sorry things didn’t work out between you” You apologised, and you were caressing her shoulder now, rubbing it.

She wrapped her arms around your waist, and her body felt warm against yours, “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m sorry I keep bringing him up. It’s like second nature for me. Does the same ever happen with you…?”

There can’t be a better day than today for you to move on, so you forced a smile, “No. I don’t think of Hyunjin anymore. It’s in the past…” It’s a complete lie, but one day, you’re hoping it will come true. Kairi doesn’t know everything that happened in the end and she doesn’t need too. She doesn’t know he gave up on you, all she knows…is that you don’t talk anymore.

Resignation settled in her gaze, “So…you’re completely okay with him?”

You nodded, “Yup. Anyway, um I don’t know about you but… I’m starving. Should we get the hotdogs?”

Kairi blinked but didn’t question your change of topic, “Sure. That’d be perfect”

You waded out of the water, jumping back onto the riverbank, and the air was prickly cold, but the sun was still warm in the sky. The DJ booth set up in the distance had a party playlist on repeat, and tons of people were dancing, some of Kairi’s friends, some just locals who were enjoying this area. The water droplets on your skin looked like glitter, and you ran over to the barbecue grill, dripping wet. Kairi’s friends, Sohee and Eric were indulging in a platter of pork ribs and grilled chicken, perched on a picnic table. They smiled at you as you approached them, “The water nice?”

You nodded, hugging yourself, “Mmh, you guys should get in while it’s still warm! If you guys don’t mind…could I please borrow a plate for Kairi?”

“Of course. Help yourself” Sohee smiled, black sunglasses resting on her head, and she was in a white one-piece swimsuit, “You’re…Kairi’s artist friend, aren’t you? We’ve heard a lot about you”

You laughed, flushing, “I hope good things”

Eric laughed, “You bet. Hey, we’re playing volleyball later, if you wanna join?”

You grabbed a plate of the sausages and bulgogi, “That sounds cool. I’m a terrible shot but I might join!” They laughed and you picked up some disposable cutlery, heading back to Kairi.

She was out of the water now, sunbathing on the grass and Jeonghan sat at her side.

“I got you some meat” You handed her the plate, balancing it on her stomach. Her arms were stretched behind her head, and she squinted under the sun at you, “Thanks, baby”

The term of endearment brought a flush up your chest, and you sat cross-legged next to her. It was crazy how fast you’d grown fond of each other, as if you were always destined to be such good friends. As you ate off her plate, Jeonghan brought you a couple of drinks. It seemed like he’d finally abandoned his sketchbook in favour of enjoying the place around him. Jeonghan yawned loudly, “This weather makes me want to take a nap”

“Well, I really don’t mind if you do” Kairi suggested to him.

Jeonghan laughed, “Really? I wouldn’t be the lamest person at this party?”

“You won that title hours ago” You joked. Jeonghan gasped dramatically, and lightly shoved you, “It’s rude that you’re not my self-proclaimed hype girl”

You pushed your sunglasses up your head, staring at him and trying not to laugh, “I’m sorry…your what?”

He blew a puff of air, and laid his head on your lap, “You know…I’m like always hyping you up in class. Making you laugh when you’re miserable—no offence— and even rescuing you from pathetic blind dates. You’re not gonna do the same for me?” He bit into a sausage, sauce smeared across his lips.

“You’re such a messy eater” You commented.

His eyes were closed and he smiled, “You can lick it off me, if it’s bothering you”

Kairi sat up, laughing, “What is going on with you two?”

You shook your head, “Nothing. He flirts with me when he’s drunk”

It was rapidly approaching nightfall, and that’s what you hated the most about winter: shorter days, longer nights. The sun set behind the forest, settling warm rays on your skin, drying the water from your swim off.

You smiled, indulging in this moment, wishing every day could be the same. You were in a beautiful place, with new friends and this could be your blank slate. Tonight could mark what you and Kairi had talked about – a real, fresh start. For the first time in weeks, your chest didn’t hurt.

»»————-

You knew you were terrible at coordinated sports, and it became obvious to everyone else too when you missed the fifth volleyball headed your way. Eric on the other team, did a fist-bump with his teammate at your loss, and Sohee sighed, “Just catch one, Y/N!”

You threw your hands up, a giggle escaping you, “You guys asked me to join. I told you I’m horrible at this stuff!” There were two teams, and the one with you was… horribly failing. Nobody took it too seriously so it was okay, it was for fun. It was just insane to you that you were playing volleyball next to the freaking river with strangers in Seoul. If past you found out about it, she’d absolutely freak out. You were counting every blessing, grateful to be here in the city, and you were making the most of tonight. You’d made Jeonghan join with you, and he was on the other team. Kairi was somewhere by the bonfire, dancing, and you could her loud singing along all the way over here.

“Just try to catch this next one, okay?” Jeonghan called at you over the net.

You were horrible at bowling too, but Seungmin had taught you once and after that you hadn’t been half as bad. All you had to do was focus, and channel all your built-up energy into shooting the ball, not get distracted by every other thing happening. You’d seen Sohee shoot enough successful ones to try to imitate her. So, you stepped up, rooting your feet in the sand, and she was cheering you on in the background. You didn’t even know her, so it was funny that she cared this much.

Jeonghan across the fence tossed the ball towards you. You don’t know what prompted you to jump, and this time you actually hit it with all the energy you could muster, your fist making contact with the ball, and it shocked Jeonghan so much that he forgot to serve entirely. “Are you kidding me?” He cried, crawling under the net to run up to you. He pulled you into a hug, arms wrapping around your body, “I knew you had it in you! All you needed was a little bit of humiliation to get you there”

“I barely hit!” You giggled, hugging him back, and his torso was warm to the touch, “And you’re supposed to be on the other team, but…thanks”

He rolled his eyes, holding you tight in his grip, “I’ll gladly let you win any day”

He was so touchy tonight. It must be the mix of alcohol, adrenaline and being away from the stresses of the art studio. His hand lingered on your waist, drifting close to your ass but you didn’t stop him. It was silly because you weren’t even into sports, you didn’t care about this volleyball game, but you were smiling widely, and it wasn’t forced.

Jeonghan let go of you, steadying you on the sand, and in your happy daze, you got up on your toes and kissed him, threading your hands through his hair. It was frizzy from the wind, and you settled on the nape of his neck. He smiled into the kiss, pressing your body to his, and he was only in his little swim-shorts, and you were only in your bikini so most of your skin touched his. It was a strange feeling, to be so physically close to somebody who wasn’t Hyunjin, but that would never happen again, and to curb the hurt, you kissed him deeper.

Sohee was laughing in the background, “You guys know the game isn’t over yet, right?”

This kiss didn’t mean anything, yet it meant everything. It meant that you could let go. Hyunjin didn’t want you in his life, and one day you’d be okay with that. Right now, you had to live in this moment. You wound your arms tighter around Jeonghan’s neck, and you kissed him deeply, and he was probably surprised that you were giving in so much, because he knew this wasn’t anything special. You surprised yourself too.

Kairi calling your name is what made you pull away from him, cheeks flushed with adrenaline. She was walking over to you, and you ran up to her, across the makeshift volleyball court, “Babe! Did you see me hit that ball?”

She looked like she’d seen a ghost though, and she reached for your hand, “Y/N. I need you, please”

“Wait, what’s wrong?” You frowned, stepping out with her.

She was fumbling over her words, “He’s here. Y/N. He’s here” Her eyes were wide in despair. She looked like she was going to cry, staccato mumbling, “I don’t know what to do”

You grabbed her arm, pulling her away from the game, You’d never seen her in such a state, “Kairi, please calm down. Who’s here? What’s going on?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear spilling out, “Chan…Chan is here”

Fucking hell.

“Hey, hey, hey. Kairi, I need you to calm down, okay?”

Your heart had dropped into your gut, but you had to be there for her. She was breathing heavy, and her eyes were filling up with tears, smudging her mascara and her silver eyeliner, “I don’t know what to do. If I talk to him, I’ll end up doing something stupid, like kiss him or something”

You grabbed her gently by the shoulders, so she could look only at you and not be stimulated by the rest of the party, “I’m gonna handle it, okay? Kairi. I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to do anything”

Her eyes were wide, “What? You will? Are…are you sure?”

“Of course. It’s Chris, I got this” You held her chin, fingers caressing her jaw, “Today is your day. I don’t want you to stress about anything”

She let out a breath, a tear escaping, “Thank you, Y/N. I’m sorry, I just got really overwhelmed, I wasn’t expecting to see him and…I don’t know if he knows I’m even here”

“What do you want me to say to him?”

“Just…don’t send him away. I don’t want him to get hurt. But please…find out why he’s here. I’m so…fucking confused. Why today? What does he want?”

“I’ll talk to him” You looked around, eyes landing on a concerned Jeonghan. He was still playing the game, but his focus was on the two of you, “Can you go hang out with Jeonghan till then?”

She nodded absentmindedly, seemingly so lost, “Thank you...Fuck, I just…don’t know how to deal with this right now”

“Jeonghan?” You called out, and it only took him a second to abandon the game and run up to you. His eyes observed Kairi’s fragile state, “What’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Can you take her to the dock? I’ll catch you there in a bit, okay?”

He glanced at her, no questions asked, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “Of course, no problem” He smiled at you, a dazzling grin that told you he’d take care of it, “Catch you in a few”

Then he took her away, leading her towards the other side of the campgrounds. The dock was nearer to the woods, hidden between the trees and the rocks, away from Chan. You’re sure the physical distance from the rest of the party would help Kairi calm a bit. You glanced at the volleyball game. They were all standing and waiting for you. Sohee had her hands on her hips, “You coming back?”

“I’m gonna have to ditch the game, sorry! Win for me, okay?” You shot her a smile.

“We’re gonna kick your ass, Y/N!” Eric yelled across. You laughed, waving them a goodbye as you walked over to the bonfire. That’s where Kairi said she saw him. You couldn’t understand. Why would Chan be here, and how had he heard about this party? Things between them had long ended, and there was no logical reason for him to come here suddenly. You were proud of yourself for staying calm though. Kairi was what mattered tonight, and you could easily deal with her ex.

There was a dance party situation happening around the fire. Everyone had congregated near it, and the DJ had long given up on playing good songs, settling for dance club music instead. From here, you could see the bonfire. One of Kairi’s friends, Jinsoo ran up to you, “Y/N, hey! Do you know where the rest of the beer is?’

You stopped to explain, you’d somehow become the unofficial host for this party and everyone must have noticed how close you and Kairi were. “Um, it should be in a pink cooler. We unloaded near the cabins”

“Great, thanks!” She smiled at you, running back there. Your eyes scanned the crowd around the fire. The sand here was warm, and it felt so good between your toes. Everybody was drinking, and dancing, making it harder for you to find him. You’d never seen Chan in person, but you’d seen so many pictures of him. It’d be second nature to recognise him.

Then, you spotted a boy by the fire, gaze frantically looking around the campgrounds, and you stepped up to him, making your way through the people dancing.

He was in a black sweatshirt, and dark jeans and he stood out, surrounded by girls in bright-colored bikinis, and boys in expensive swim-shorts. There was no telling from his stature that he was someone famous, which is probably why none of the guests were giving him a second look. You wonder if any of Kairi’s friends had ever known about their relationship. You weren’t nervous about this interaction, even though you should be. This was Hyunjin’s best friend. Why were you not freaking out? Maybe because you’d do anything to make sure Kairi had a good night.

“Chris?” You asked, voice low. You didn’t want to spook him.

At hearing his name, he turned to face you. Your heart jumped at the sight. He was beautiful in person. None of the pictures could do him justice. In the pictures, he had stage makeup and styled hair. Right now, natural curls fell into his face, and he looked so simple, like any other guy you’d pass by on the street.

“Hey. You’re Chris, right?” You spoke, and the only thing making you nervous was him looking right into your eyes, “I’m uh…I’m one of Kairi’s friends.” It was best to not say your name. His gaze was…very intense but you had to keep cool for her, so you smiled. A genuine, warm, smile.

The tension in his shoulders dissipated as understanding settled in his face, and he stepped up to you, clearing his throat, “Hey. Um, I go by Chan actually”

“Chan…” You repeated, smiling at him, fiddling with your fingers, “I wasn’t really expecting you to show up”

He sighed, hands in his pockets, “I know… I’m not on the guest list”

“She didn’t know you’re coming tonight”

“I wasn’t planning to” He answered, taking in another breath, and his voice was shaky, “I came straight from the studio. I drove…three straight hours to get here, on a whim. I know I’m not dressed for the party, but I need to see her right now”

Oh, wow… You hope you didn’t sound rude but this was in her best interest, so you said, “I’m sorry…I don’t know how to say this… but she’s not feeling great about this. How did you even know about the party?”

He was about to answer but it’s like he couldn’t find the words, struggling. Had he come here just to wish her for her birthday? It was hugely romantic, but there must be more he wanted to say. What would make him drive all the way here?

“Channie, she is not by the cabins either!” Someone yelled out.

You would recognize that voice anywhere.

Your heart stopped beating.

Within seconds, somebody came running up through the shadows of the trees. The air left your body, and you couldn’t breathe.

Hyunjin.

He stepped out into the light and all of the noise around you died.

The waves of the river were suddenly quiet, the forest was mute, the music was silent. Only your pulse ringing in your ears.

He was here. He was here. He was here.

Immediately, his gaze landed on you, and he stopped still in his footsteps.

There was no hiding his surprise. There was no pretending, or feigning of emotions. His mouth parted, eyebrows shooting up, eyes wide as he saw you.

Vision blackening, clouding, blurring, you could only see him in the centre, and your gut started squeezing you from the inside out.

Dark hair tied up into a bun, half of it hanging to his shoulders, he looked like he always did. Fucking unreal. He was dressed so simply, black sweater blending into the darkness. He got prettier each time you laid eyes on him. So fucking beautiful and you hated him for it.

His eyes were on yours, thick lips parted in shock, and it was cruel how your heart leapt out of your chest, as if you hadn’t been training to tame it all this while. The last time you saw him… flashed through your mind, memories pricking at you like a hundred thousand needles stabbing into your body. He left you, before you even had a chance. He didn’t even know you loved him.

You’d been trying so hard to move on, but here he fucking was, the one place you didn’t think he could be.

But you needed to be strong, for Kairi. This was all for her, and she was your saving grace. So you looked away from him, even if it took all of your fucking willpower. Your gaze found Chan, and suddenly the noises were back. The party was raging, the river was loud, the forest full of cacophony. Chan was saying your name repeatedly, and you’d tuned out completely. So had Hyunjin it seemed…because he snapped back to reality, a click going off in his head, and turned to his friend.

Chan stepped closer to you, “You’re Y/N…?”

You nodded, no words escaping at him recognising you. You’d been recognised. Of course you had. You and Hyunjin had been fucking staring at each like fools. It was a dead giveaway.

“I need to see her, Y/N.”

You ignored the peripheral gaze burning in the side of your face. Don’t fucking look at him. You stared right at Chan, “Chan, I can’t…”

“There’s something I need to say to her…and after that I’ll leave, I promise you” There was desperation in his voice, one you’d felt all these months.

It was the most difficult thing to not look at Hyunjin, when he was fucking staring at you. He’d always had your entire attention, any room he was in but right now you couldn’t afford to do that. It was so hard for you to ignore him, but it had been so easy for him before. You could do that to him too.

“I don’t know. She’s…really upset” You turned around, glancing over at the dock, then back at him, “Why tonight? She wants to talk to you, but—”

“I know you’re just trying to do right by her. Something I should have been doing all this time” He closed his eyes, “I understand if you’re gonna ask me to leave, but I promise you. If she says she doesn’t wanna see me, I’ll walk right out.”

You shook your head, guilt overwhelming you, “Chan—”

He continued speaking over you, “But if you’ve ever been in love, or…or loved someone, you’d understand why this is so fucking important to me”

You stared at him, lost for words. If you’d ever been in love…?

Hyunjin’s gaze on you was stronger than ever. It burned you.

He had said nothing this whole time. What was he thinking? You wanted to climb into his brain, read his mind and know what he thought of this question. Did Hyunjin have any fucking idea how much you loved him? You were so stupid crazy in love, you missed his silence too. And did Chan even understand the significance of what he was asking you? All of your emotions were cascading on top of each other, and the sane part of you was drowning in the waves. It was hard to speak, but you finally found the words, “She’s… by the docks. You can find her there”

They were the right words because Chan’s eyes lit up instantly, a smile spreading on his face, and he was beautiful like this, a warmth and comfort emanating from him. He was prettier when happy, and it looked like he couldn’t believe you’d said yes, “Thank you. Shit, thank you, Y/N. You’re an angel” He turned to Hyunjin, “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Hyunjin asked him. His voice sent shivers down your spine.

“No, I…got this” Chan swallowed, and he suddenly looked nervous and doubtful of this.

Hyunjin stepped close to him, voice dropping, “It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine”

Chan nodded, eyes closed, “I’m just…fucking anxious. What if she asks me to leave?”

“Channie” Hyunjin repeated, in a low voice, hand landing on his shoulder, “I’m right here if you need me, okay?”

He took a deep breath, and Hyunjin pulled him into a half-hug. You stood by, unsure what to do, staring at them. You were still trying to wrap your head around whatever the fuck was happening right now. In seconds, Chan took off towards the dock, where you’d told him Kairi was. You watched his retreating figure, hoping you made the right choice. He seemed genuinely apologetic, for whatever had went down between him and her.

His departure… left you and Hyunjin by the bonfire. Just by yourselves. So, you finally looked at him.

He was staring at you.

In the glow of the embers, Hyunjin looked almost sinister, he looked dangerous in the way that you wanted him, even now. Dark shadows cutting across his face, he’d only grown more into the version of him you’d ran into the storage closet. Taller stature, stronger arms, piercing gaze.

You suddenly felt conscious…being in this tiny swimsuit, and your arms came up around yourself to cover up somehow. It hurt too much to see him this close, after everything that had happened. You’d been giving up your soul to forget him, and he’d just decided to show up, now? It was unfair. You had to be the bigger person here, and you were going to leave. You didn’t owe him a conversation, not after he’d shown you how easy it was for him to forget all about existence.

So, you turned to walk away, but then Hyunjin spoke, “I didn’t know you were going to be here”

At first, you almost didn’t hear him, over the music, over the laughter, over the river. You stopped in your tracks, squeezing your eyes shut, wishing he’d never spoken.

You didn’t look at him as you mumbled, “Yeah…you wouldn’t be here if you knew”

It came out more venomous than you wanted, and you didn’t wait to see his reaction. But he asked you, “What are you doing here then?”

You turned to look at him, and fuck it hurt every bit of you. You hope you had a stable tone, arms crossed across your chest, because how the hell could he ask you that? “I’m… kind of the host”

His eyes widened, genuine surprise in it, “You are…?”

Well, he would’ve known that if he’d let you be in his life. Why had he pushed you away? Why had he not even tried to keep in touch with you? Was cutting off all contact the only way he knew how?

“I have to go” You mumbled, feeling hurt all over again, “There’s drinks in the corner if you want”

Hyunjin began to say something, but he was stopped because somebody yelled your name, interrupting whatever he could have said. What was Hyunjin going to say?

Jeonghan ran over to you, laughing, oblivious to everything around him, “You know Sohee’s going around saying you abandoned her during the game?"

You blinked, looking up at him, “She knew we weren’t going to win anyway”

He laughed loudly, and he was clearly tipsy by the way he talked, “What can I say? You’re a very wanted woman tonight, like five people stopped to ask me where you were. Also, you do remember that you’re the only person I know at this party? You can’t just leave me alone. I might actually end up missing you”

“Right, I forgot” You stifled a smile, “I was doing something for Kairi. Speaking of which…you left her alone?”

“I’m sorry…” He sighed, “There was this dude that wanted to talk to her…she asked me to leave them. And, I did not come tonight to babysit her. I’ve only met her like one time!”

You laughed, “Really? It is her birthday, Nate. What did you come here for then? ”

He shook his head, smiling, “Oh, being coy suits you, Y/N. It’s sexy”

“What?” You laughed. Before you could even register it, he wrapped his arms around you, picking you up in a little spin and twirl. A surprised noise escaped you, and your hands came to brace yourself against his bare chest. He was grinning at you, completely oblivious to the fact that someone was watching you. You almost forgot where you were, and who was watching, a giggle escaping you. “Nate—” You mumbled, pulling away, hands on his chest.

“What?” He frowned, and only then he saw Hyunjin standing there, watching all of this take place. “Oh…hey, man” Jeonghan smiled at him, “Wow…you are way too overdressed for this party. Take your shirt off or something”

Hyunjin’s gaze was on the arm around your waist. There was an unrecognisable emotion in his eyes. You’d seen jealousy on him before and this wasn’t it. This… was something else entirely. An emotion so intense that you felt scared of what he was holding inside.

He was frowning, furrow in his forehead, and then he glanced at you, a sudden indifference in his voice, “Where did you say the drinks were again?”

You swallowed, “By the cabins…”

“Oh, I can show you” Jeonghan offered, and you wish he wasn’t so nice to everybody.

Hyunjin’s brows shot up at the suggestion, and you were afraid he’d say something mean, but of course Hyunjin wasn’t mean, so he forced a smile, “Cool. Sure”

Jeonghan began walking away with him, and your grip on his hand was tight, you yanked him back, whispering, “What do you think you’re doing?”

He smiled, whispering back, “Relax. Just showing some hospitality. Also I think that guy’s famous”

You sighed, closing your eyes, because he was impossible to argue with, “Fine, but…get me a drink too”

“Will do” He grinned, leaning in to kiss your cheek. You watched them walk away, and you could hear Jeonghan say, “I’m Nate by the way, only she’s allowed to call me Jeonghan. Don’t ask me why though”

You couldn’t pick up on what Hyunjin said in response and you itched to know, but…you had to hold back. You stood still, feet rooted to the sand as Jeonghan led Hyunjin to the cabins, and the coolers that lay there, filled with beers. You couldn’t watch for long, because somebody grabbed your arm, turning you around, “Why are you by yourself?” Sohee, from the volleyball game asked, “Come on, you can dance with us!”

“I’m not in the mood, sorry” You apologised, walking away from the fire. What would they talk about? You hope Jeonghan didn’t bring up how miserable and depressed you’d been this whole time. Would Hyunjin talk about youto him? Would he ask him what you and Jeonghan were? Did he…even care?

Sohee laughed, “What? Shut up. You’re dancing with us. You already ditched us in the game”

“I think I’m just gonna go get a drink” You tried to decline, as politely as you could, without being a spoilsport or a downer. She stopped you, hand on your wrist, “What’s wrong?”

“I just…don’t wanna dance. I’m sorry” You gently pulled your arm out of her grip, walking nearer to the river. You could already feel it. All of the progress you’d made all these months was reversing. You were going back in time against your will. What had all this happiness been for, if it was just going to be ripped from you in an instant? How could you ever fucking say you moved on when seeing him for a second changed your mind?

You thought you were stronger than this, but you were so fucking weak, falling back into an emotion you didn’t need. Self-loathing and sadness and wishing you were enough for him was staring you in the eyes, and you thought you’d left it all behind. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. You…had plans, to feel better, to move the fuck on. Kairi and Chan were nowhere to be seen, and it was past midnight already. She hadn’t even cut the birthday cake yet. You’d made Jeonghan drive you all the way to that special bakery for nothing. Why would Chan show up uninvited on such a special night? Why the fuck would he bring Hyunjin with him?

You ran your hands over your face. Every breath was harder to catch, and you felt like you’d pass out if you stayed standing. A tear slipped into your mouth, and you tasted the glitter mascara that Kairi had put on you. Kairi. You were going to find her…and you’d make sure she still had a good night, regardless of her ex gatecrashing the fucking party. Chan was a lovely person, you’re sure he was, but this was not the time. If he wanted to come so bad, he should’ve just come alone and not brought Hyunjin.

You looked back towards the fire, where Sohee was twirling around with the others, laughing loudly, so drunk and so happy. Jeonghan was back there too, he stood watching the girls dance, but Hyunjin wasn’t with him.

Did he leave? Where was he?

Your eyes scanned the crowd so fast, trying to place him amongst the crowd.

“I thought you hate beer”

You jumped, startled by the sound.

Hyunjin stood behind you, holding a beer bottle in his hand, extended out to you. How had you missed him walking over to you?

“What?”

He seemed confused, hand outstretched, “You…hated beer, right?”

“What are you doing?”

He shrugged, nonchalant, “You asked Nate to bring you a drink. He…wanted to dance instead, he asked me to bring it to you”

You laughed, bitterly, “And what, you work for him now?”

Why the fuck would he willingly approach you? After forcing you to get out of his life? Pretending like everything was normal? Acting like he hadn’t devastated you entirely, and broken you down. He didn’t even apologise for the way he’d kissed you and pushed you away. He still didn’t fucking realise what he meant to you, and he never would.

Hyunjin’s tongue poked his cheek, and he said, “No. I was trying to be away from the crowd”

You released a breath, “Well, congratulations, now you are. I’m gonna go”

“Wait—” He called out.

You stopped, “What, Hyunjin?”

He swallowed, “Aren’t you gonna take your drink?”

You should walk away from this conversation right fucking now, but you felt angry. Did he know you’d been suffering so much because of him? Did he know you’d given up on love and resigned yourself to a miserable fucking existence, because of him? How could he act so normal?

“You know what?” You forced a smile, “You can have it. You’ve already ruined tonight for Kairi. You might as well for me too”

“Excuse me?” His features contorted into a frown, as if he couldn’t believe you were bringing it up, “It wasn’t my idea to show up here”

“So what…you came as moral support or something?”

“Chan needed me” He stated, with finality.

“Well” You laughed, “You’re a great friend then. Are you even allowed to be at this party? Isn’t that gonna be a problem for you?”

His lips were in a thin line, “You’re angry”

“No” You laughed, so bitter, so petty, “Just concerned. Actually I am gonna take that drink” You grabbed it out of his hands, pulling with more force than needed, making sure none of your fingers touched any of his. Hyunjin’s eyes narrowed, and he would hate you now if he didn’t already, but that was fine. He didn’t want you anyway.

Jeonghan’s yell interrupted you two, “Y/N! Come on. It’s your favourite song!”

You turned back to them, realising that indeed a song you’d liked in a club once was playing. It wasn’t your favourite song, far from it, but you wanted to be away from Hyunjin. You were losing yourself so near him.

So you glanced at Hyunjin, lifted the beer bottle to your lips, and drops of alcohol dripped down your neck and chest, into your bikini top, messily, “Thanks for the drink”

Jeonghan basically pulled you into the circle, as the chorus came on. You let him. You chugged the rest of the beer, because there was no way you were doing this sober anymore. Jeonghan was fucking tipsy, so he spun you around, and if it wasn’t for his arm around you, you’d fall over into the sand. Somebody handed you a shot of tequila, and you drank that too. The music was loud enough so you couldn’t think, EDM beats playing over and over, making your heart vibrate against your ribs. You wanted to laugh, because everything was so horrible. Sohee was a good hype girl, cheering on for you, grinding her hips against a taller boy, and everyone was lost in the music.

As the song picked up tempo, your hands met Jeonghan’s and he helped you move with an exhilarating speed and you couldn’t even breathe, head spinning. He wasn’t a great dancer, but he was holding you tight, moving your body against his, and it was good to feel desired, “You look so fucking sexy” Jeonghan mumbled into your ear, “You should wear pink more often”

You rolled your eyes, “It’s red…Nate”

“Huh. Maybe I should get a closer look at it then”

“What?” You laughed as he suddenly leaned in, kissing your neck, and collarbones. His other hand dropped to your ass, squeezing it tightly. You couldn’t find it in you to feel shy because nobody was looking at you anyway. Everybody was too busy dancing, or too drunk. Hyunjin had probably realised his mistake and long left. You hope he’d fucking left. You didn’t want to see him again tonight. In the centre of the circle, Jeonghan was bent over you, pressing kisses to your body. Your arms rest on his biceps, as he kissed your neck, “You’re so beautiful when you laugh. I wish you were happier like this more often”

Oh, the irony. If only he knew you’d never been this sad in your life before. Knowing Hyunjin was here, so close yet so far. He was here, but he wasn’t here with you. What was the point…of anything? Weeks and months of moving on. Everything was useless. Hyunjin had to be there, everytime, haunting you like a demon, following in your shadows for the rest of your life.

“Y/N…” Jeonghan asked, head buried in your neck, realising you were standing still, deadweight, “What’s wrong?”

You’d gone on a date, you had a friend you casually made out with, you were in the best art studio in your country. You were so unhappy. What was the point?

It was like there a string on his chest, tying him to you, bringing you together even when you couldn’t be. Even when he didn’t want to be.

“Nothing” You swallowed, tears shooting up to your eyes, “Can you just kiss me and not ask me anything?”

He frowned, and it was hard to hear him over the loud music, “No…Y/N. Tell me if you’re okay. Do you want some air? Water?”

“I just want you to kiss me and not ask why”

So, almost reluctantly, he did. He leaned in, pressing his mouth to yours and you hoped it’d distract you. You wanted to get lost in it, and you brought your palms up to his face, to his hair, running through it. You’d never kissed him for so long, or with so much emotion. It had always been so casual, for fun, no strings, nothing.

For just a second, you opened your eyes. You wish you hadn’t.

Over Jeonghan’s shoulder, there was a direct line of sight to Hyunjin.

He was still standing by the river, staring out into the darkness, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other lifting a beer bottle to his lips. He was still here. Right where you’d left him.

Why wouldn’t he leave? There was a path straight to him, people parted like the red sea, the taut string of fate between you working harder than ever.

You squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on kissing the boy who actually cared for you, but when your eyes flickered open again, Hyunjin was watching you.

It should have been obvious, but you were still surprised…to see him stare. Your heart hurt so much you thought you’d collapse. He didn’t want you in his life anymore. He’d made it plenty clear.

Then why did he look so fucking sad watching you kiss another man?

The party was raging, you were dying. Each press to Jeonghan’s lips made you sick. He kept spinning you around, and you were getting dizzy. Every few seconds, your eyes would fall on Hyunjin. Everything but him was blurred. Your insides hurt, and he was looking at you and you were looking at him but you were dancing with another man. Was this how it felt like to be dying? Jeonghan was giggling about something, and he leaned in to whisper something in your ear. You didn’t hear it, because Hyunjin had turned away from you now, like all of this was beneath him. As if being here was the greatest inconvenience of his life.

He was walking away. He’d probably had enough of your dancing.

He’d had enough of you.

“Y/N…hello?” Jeonghan snapped a finger in front of your face.

“I’m going to be sick” You mumbled.

His eyes widened, “What? Did you drink too much?”

“No. I just…I need some air” You stepped back from him.

“Should I come with you?”

“I’m fine” You shook your head, looking around, “You should dance with Sohee…till I’m back. ”

Before he could protest or respond, you walked away, towards the river. Kairi was nowhere to be found, at her own birthday party. It was all his fault. You had to go find her. What if she had a fight with Chan and needed you?

The alcohol had gotten to your head. You shouldn’t have chugged that beer, and that tequila and that last shot of vodka. Slowly, but steadily you made your way towards the dock. Her birthday cake was rotting in the car. Was it so hard to ask for just one good night?

He had to ruin that too, just like he’d ruined the idea of love for you. You could never love anybody, ever again, not in this same way.

You walked until you caught up to him. Thankfully, there was nobody else here. Everybody was either in the cabins, or dancing. Hyunjin was pacing back and forth, on his fucking phone as if he was too good for this place. The question left your mouth before you could rethink it, “What does Chan want?”

He looked up at you, eyes drifting over your figure briefly, voice small, “What?”

“It’s been an hour. She’s not back yet” You stated, as if it was obvious, “In case you didn’t know, she turned twenty-four today, and this entire party is for her. So why is he here, Hyunjin?” You stepped closer to him.

He clicked his phone off, the number he never shared with you, and put it in his pocket, “Um… I don’t know if it’s my discretion to tell you”

You stared at him. You were so past begging to be included in his life. You nodded, a scoff escaping, “Yeah, sorry I asked. I don’t know what I was thinking”

Turning towards the dock, you only made it about five steps away from Hyunjin when he called out, “Wait—I didn’t mean it like that”

You turned to face him, and there was fire in your eyes, there was fire in your veins, “Then what did you mean, Hyunjin?”

Something flashed through his eyes when you said his name, like he also couldn’t believe he was talking to you. “Um. Do you… remember what I told you at the Château?” He asked. The familiarity of those memories flooded through you, like a tsunami. You remembered every single word, you remember each breath he took, each touch. You remember every ridge and curve in his hand, as he held yours. You remembered how many times he pressed his lips to yours, and how loud he’d moaned when you touched him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

Hyunjin tilt his head, “About… how they’ve been together for two years now? About how Chan had planned to ask Kairi to marry him…on her birthday?”

Your eyes narrowed as the realisation sank into you, “You’re kidding me. Is that what he’s doing right now? He’s literally going to ruin her—”

Hyunjin stepped forward, “No, he’s not doing that! But he just needed to talk to her about it. He’s just here to make things right with her” He explained, emphasising each word.

“Why?”

Hyunjin seemed confused, “Why, what?”

“Why now? He couldn’t have picked another day?” You sounded so harsh, but you didn’t care. Yeah, maybe you were pissed that Chan was willing to go to all this fucking effort for the girl he loved. But nobody would ever make any effort for you. You were pissed that Kairi was the one good thing you had left, but now Hyunjin’s life was ripping her away from you too.

He didn’t seem fazed though, and he seemed just as confused as you, “I don’t know, Y/N! I tried to talk him out of it. That it wasn’t a good idea”

You scoffed, crossing your arms, “Well you clearly didn’t do a good job, because he’s here right now anyway”

“What do you want me to do? I tried my best!”

“Well, you should have tried harder, Hyunjin!”

He let out a deep breath, running a hand over his face, “Why are you fighting me?”

You took a step back, “Right. I forgot I’m not allowed to be near you”

His eyes narrowed, “Excuse me?”

“Never mind. I’m going to go see if she’s okay or if she needs me”

He frowned, stepping in front of you, “You can’t just interrupt them. What if they’re having a moment?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. This was a fucking disaster, “He better not be proposing”

Hyunjin’s voice dropped, “Why? Wouldn’t you be happy for them?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth, Hyunjin. I would be happy. Obviously I’d be fucking happy. But Kairi loves him too much. She told me everything that happened. She would just get hurt again when he chooses the company over her.”

Hyunjin was quiet, eyes flickering over yours, voice dropping, “Is… that what you think I did?”

Your voice had lost its energy too, and you stared at him, “I’m not talking about—”

“Because that’s not what I did, Y/N”

You looked up at him, but you were shaking, “This is about her, not me”

He didn’t say anything. For a few seconds, you were both just staring at each other.

He sighed and chose to speak first, “Chan would never hurt her. Their decision to break up was mutual”

Unlike how things happened with you. “Yeah. I understand”

“It’s not just you. I’m worried about Chan too” He ran a hand through his hair. This was not the time to create a scene in public, so you curbed your anger, shoving it deep inside. He cared about Chan, and you cared about Kairi. That’s the only reason you were still here, and still talking to him. It was the only fucking reason you’d talk to him tonight.

“I can’t believe it’s her birthday and she’s not even here” You mumbled, “All of this was for nothing then. I hope she’s not upset or crying somewhere in a corner”

For the first time this night, Hyunijn looked a tad guilty, brows furrowing, “Do you want to go check on them…?”

You hugged yourself tighter, the wind was picking up quickly, “I thought you just said we can’t interrupt them”

“We won’t”

Your eyebrows shot up.

“Isn’t there another place we can see the docks from…without interrupting them? To see how they’re doing…”

You ran a mental image of the campgrounds in your head, “Yeah, there is…”

And so, Hyunjin followed you.

There was a clearing in the forest, a thick cover of trees that looked right out onto the docks. You’d seen it back when you came to scope out of the place with Kairi. You were taking him there. You focused on the sound of your footsteps, and on the party you were leaving behind.

“So…what changed? Why did he pick today?” You surprised yourself by speaking first.

Hyunjin seemed surprised too, and he glanced at you, “Um…I don’t really know. We were working on a few songs last night…and it’s like Chan had some great epiphany”

“Oh”

There were people swimming in the Han river, some of them were skinny dipping too, and Hyunjin averted his eyes as you passed them. It was so strange to be here, and talk to him, like everything was okay. His tall frame so close to you again, and he took longer strides than you but right now he was slowing down to keep up. You made sure there was enough distance between the two of you so your arms wouldn’t accidently brush. It was funny. Months ago, you used to pray for this to happen, to be alone with him, to have a reason to talk to him, and to accidently touch him.

You tried to look for Chan and Kairi against the landscape, but they were too far so all you had was to settle for Hyunjin’s momentary glances on you. “You’re good at these” He suddenly said.

“Sorry?” You looked at him.

He looked around, making a noncommittal gesture, “Birthday parties. You planned everything, right?”

“I guess. It wasn’t all me”

“You…always outdo yourself”

You looked up at him, from the corner of your eye, “I had help. I didn’t organise it on my own”

“I know…but I’ve seen how passionate you are about these things. The food…the music…it’s all very you”

You swallowed, wondering why he was deciding to be civil all of a sudden, or maybe he’d been civil all along and you were the one creating a fucking scene, “Thank you…”

“It reminds me of the beach party, for Felix’s birthday. That one…was so good too”

“Well, at least if things don’t work out with my art, maybe I can become a party planner” You mumbled.

Hyunjin laughed. He actually laughed. It was between a giggle and a chuckle and you looked up at him in surprise. He covered his mouth with his hand, eyes wide, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to agree with you. Things will obviously work out. You’re a great artist”

You couldn’t handle seeing him like this. Eyes crinkled, a real smile. Was he not miserable without you? You looked back at your feet, arms crossed over your chest, “Yup”

“So…is he your boyfriend?”

You looked up, “Sorry?”

Hyunjin seemed nonchalant as he asked, “Nate. The boy you were dancing with” His eyebrows were knitted together, as if he actually even cared if that was your boyfriend or not.

“We’re here” You told him, choosing not to answer, pointing to a clearing in the trees, “You can see the dock right through there”

Hyunjin stepped ahead, forest leaves crunching under his feet as he did so. There was a pile of rocks and big boulders overlooking the river. Your view was being blocked by them, and you couldn’t see anything from here.

“I’m just gonna climb up and check if we can see anything from there” He told you, and before you could tell him it was a bad idea, Hyunjin jumped up, easily climbing onto a boulder. It looked so easy for him.

You stood at the bottom, trying to warm yourself. You should have brought a coverup because the wind here was so strong, and you were half-naked. From where Hyunjin stood, he must have a clear view of the entire campground, a good vantage point…for spying on people, like you were now. He could see over the bushes, and you couldn’t, so you asked him, “Can you see them?”

Hyunjin responded, eyes in the distant, “Yeah I can”

“And…? Does she look upset? Are they fighting?”

Hyunjin was silent. You couldn’t see anything from down here, and you were frustrated. “Hyunjin…?” You whisper-yelled.

“Come up. You can see for yourself” He suggested, very unhelpful.

“I’m not wearing shoes. I can’t climb up rocks”

“I’ll help you” He said, turning to face you.

You looked up at him, and his hand was extended out to you. Did you really want his help? But you wanted to see for yourself. You didn’t trust him in the moment. So, you gave in, “Okay”

You grabbed his hand, only for the support, but a bolt of lightning travelled through you, through your entire body. You felt on fire, hair on the back of your neck standing up. Your heart skipped beats, and all you were doing was touching Hyunjin’s hand. It was so warm. His palm was baby-soft, like he’d been taking good care of himself, of his skin.

You tried not to let the shivers affect you. He bent down and mumbled, “Keep your foot here, and I’ll help with the rest okay?”

You climbed up onto a ledge, with sharp rocks jutting out, “If you drop me…”

“I won’t”

“Here goes nothing” You mumbled, keeping your foot on the ledge for balance, hoping you didn’t fall and embarrass yourself. Hyunjin pulled you up, tugging at your arm. You stood head-on, face inches from his. On this tiny boulder, there was barely any space for the two of you. Hyunjin clearly hadn’t calculated for that when he asked you to join him. Because now, you were pressed to each other, and his hand was on your bare waist, gripping you tightly so you won’t fall. Fuck, you’d really put yourself in this situation willingly.

“Shit. I’m so sorry” He realised, leaving his hold on you once you’d found your balance.

You were breathing heavy. Your eyes searched his, and his gaze was so familiar. Half-lidded eyes, dark hair falling into his forehead, lips pink...and plush up close. He was so beautiful, and his body was warm.

His eyes fell to your body, noting the goosebumps on your chest, “You’re shivering”

“I’m fine”

“Take my sweater”

“Hyunjin…”

He didn’t let you finish and took off his dark woolen sweater. Inside, he was in a simple long-sleeved t-shirt that hugged him tightly. It was almost too small on him, and you could see the shape of his body through it. He handed you the warm sweater, and it was soft to the touch. You slipped it on over your bikini, and it smelled like him too.

He nodded, jutting his head towards the dock, “Um. There they are”

You turned, trying to balance on the little space you had to stand, peering through the trees.

“Can you see them?” Hyunjin asked, maintaining a sliver of distance between you, as he tried to look over your shoulder. You could see them. Kairi and Chan sat at the edge of the dock, legs hanging off into the water. They weren’t touching, but they were sitting close together. They were talking about something, passionately, because you could hear hints of their voices all the way here.

“What…are they doing? They’re just…talking”

“Yeah” Hyunjin said, a puff of cold air leaving his mouth, “I guess they had a lot to catch up on”

Your heart clenched. You knew how much she loved him. “She missed him a lot…” You admitted.

Hyunjin glanced at you, and then back at them, “Yeah? He did too…he’s been in a lot of talks with the company”

“About what?”

His expression changed at your curiosity, “It’s not important, Y/N”

You frowned, even more curious now, “Tell me, Hyunjin”

He sighed, “It was… just about ensuring her security, in case they got back together, and even if they didn’t. Tracking down and suing the people that sent her the threats”

A flicker of hope lit up in you, for them, “Wasn’t that the only reason they weren’t together? Because of Kairi’s safety?”

Hyunjin looked at you, empty, downcast eyes, “No, when I came back to the city, they’d been having a lot of…arguments, and fights. I would hear Chan on the phone with her till the morning hours, just…arguing, about anything and everything. They weren’t even angry at each other, they were just frustrated because…he could barely give her time. It sucked, kind of felt like I’m a kid listening to my parents fall apart, you know? Watching their relationship fail right in front of me. The nights they stayed up arguing, Chan would show up to practice the next morning unmotivated and unfocused. It was affecting his work a lot. He was barely able to be creative”

You watched the side of his face, as he told you the tale of how this line of work had pulled Chan and Kairi apart. “So…what’s going to change now? Won’t they just go back to fighting?”

Hyunjin shrugged, “I don’t know. Things will never change. But I’m not gonna be the one to take away his hope”

“You really think that…?”

He looked at you, gaze piercing yours, “What?”

“That things are always going to be bad, that they won’t get better?”

“I don’t think that. I know it”

Your heart dropped, offended at the negativity he possessed, “Would it kill you to be a little more positive?”

He swallowed, looking right at you, “Me being positive is not gonna bring them back together”

Now he’d given up on his own best friend’s relationship too, what chance did you stand? You glanced back at Kairi and Chan, breath hitching in your throat at the sight. His hand was on her face now, caressing her, and he had inched closer. They looked…ethereal against the river and the moon.

“It just might” You mumbled. Chan was whispering something to her now, nose brushing against hers. It was so intimate, you suddenly felt like a voyeur.

Hyunjin inhaled, realising it at the same time as you, “We…shouldn’t watch this”

“We… shouldn’t have watched any of it”

You turned, and Hyunjin had already jumped back onto the sandy terrain, and you wished you were as athletic as him. He made it look so easy. He was holding his hands out to you, “I got you”

You stared at him, and the way his hands were ready to catch you. He was wearing the same jewellery he always did, the same rings as the night he kissed you for the first time, and told you that you shouldn’t be worried because he wasn’t going anywhere. That all felt far too fabricated a lie now. Were any of those things he said true?

“I can get down on my own” You said, rejecting his offer to hold you, to touch you again.

“Are you sure?” He frowned, hands dropping to his side.

“Yup” You weren’t going to ask him for help again, so carefully, you stepped down, one foot on the ledge, trying to balance your weight out.

Hyunjin was watching carefully, and maybe it was good, because you fucking slipped. Bare feet and rock climbing was not a good mix. One second, the rock was firm underneath you, the other it was gone. A yelp escaped you, but in half a second Hyunjin had stepped forward, catching you in his grip. He had you pressed you to the rocks, grip strong around your body, “Fuck. Are you okay?”

You couldn’t even find it in you to be embarrassed, staring up at him. There was no space between your bodies, and the moonlight fell right on him and his stupidly perfect face. You tried to catch your breath, but he was crushing you to the rocks. You couldn’t even breathe. Your hair fell in front of your face, and Hyunjin’s gaze flickered over it, as if he was itching to fix it. His hands dug into the fabric of the knit sweater, fingers poking in the holes, and his other hand…lay dangerously close to your ass, resting just at the end of your bikini.

So you still could feel like this again, like you would explode from human touch. You hadn’t felt this alive in the longest time, each nerve ending firing at full capacity. This is what attraction felt like, not what you had with your date in the bar, not what you felt when you kissed your friend. Your eyes searched his, for any remorse or guilt for what he’d done to you. You found none.

"Please let go of me”

“What?”

“Let go of me, Hyunjin”

He dropped his hands from you immediately, hurt flashing through his eyes, and a part of you was happy he could still display that emotion. He’d been fauxing his emotions the entire night so well, he’d pushed them all aside, and you hated that. Why couldn’t he admit he missed you? He stepped back, apologetic, “I’m sorry. I just…wanted to make sure you were okay”

“I’m fine” You side-stepped him, walking back to the campgrounds through the trees. Hyunjin was quiet, and he followed you, a few steps behind. You knew because you could hear his breaths, and his footsteps against the crunching leaves.

After some minutes, he spoke, “Y/N…”

“I don’t want to talk to you” You were walking away from him, as fast as you could, hoping to put some distance between you.

“Y/N…you’re bleeding”

You stopped, “What?”

He stood a few steps behind, watching you, “Your leg. I think you…you cut yourself on the rock. The…branches”

You had far too much pride in the moment to even check if he was right. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t hurt” You mumbled, and began walking back towards the party again.

“It could get infected”

“Can you just stop talking, please? I can take care of myself”

“I’m sure you can. I’m just worried about you”

“Why are you even here?” You turned, walking back to him so you could be closer. Each step against the grass did hurt now. You must have cut yourself really bad, because the dirt was burning your wound, but you weren’t going to show your weakness, not right now. You were so far from the rest of the party, otherwise anybody would have been able to hear you arguing. You were thankful everybody else was distracted and having an actual good time, unlike you.

He frowned, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why the fuck are you here? I didn’t invite you to this party. I want you to leave”

His eyes narrowed, “I’m not leaving Chan alone”

You let out a frustrated sigh, “He’s with Kairi, and they seem to be doing great without you!”

“You’re hurt…” He spoke, calm as fucking ever. Why couldn’t he just express himself, like he used to? Why was he wearing a shield?

“As if that matters to you. The damage is done. I knew it wasn’t a good idea” You were talking about the cut on your leg, but of course you fucking weren’t.

He squeezed his eyes shut, “Just please let me take a look at it. I don’t want you to get hurt”

“It’s too late for that, Hyunjin”

He reached out, grabbing your arm with more force than you expected, to pull you closer, “Y/N. Stop fighting me. I’m not letting you go without making sure you’re all right”

The authority in his voice shocked you. You’d never heard Hyunjin so determined before, so aggressive. His eyes were narrowed, and his grip on your arm was strong but not tight enough to hurt you. You swallowed, wanting to suddenly cry because you were in so much pain and he was the reason for it all, “Fine”

His grip relaxed on you, and he let out a breath as if it was hurting him too. He looked around, eyes landing on the glass house hidden between the trees, “Can you walk till there?”

“Yeah”

You only felt a little shameful, walking over to the cabin, and you hope nobody was fucking in there or anything. Hyunjin pushed open the door, stepping inside, rummaging through the drawers and cabinets.

“Everything’s empty” He mumbled, a frustrated look in his eyes.

You leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, “Yeah. It’s a vacation rental, so there’s not gonna be any personal belongings. Maybe you could check in the bedroom”

He sighed, walking through the open doorway into the bedroom. The house was so…modern, and fancy, with large glass windows that faced the river. You could imagine how nice it’d be to spend the night here. There was an open four-claw white bathtub, and clearly this room was designed for sex. Why else would there be a tub in here? Hyunjin seemed impatient as he opened every cupboard, pulling open the drawers with gold knobs.

“Found anything?”

He shook his head, “No…just condoms”

“Oh…”

“And a bottle of…lube” He chuckled, turning to look at you, arms crossed as he leaned against the dresser, “Yeah. nice planning. There’s no first aid kits, anywhere?”

“I don’t know” You sighed, “I wasn’t exactly planning on climbing up rocks”

Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, “Right. Can you sit down?”

The bedsheets were nicely made, you didn’t want to ruin it but you were in pain now. You sat at the edge of it, hands in your lap. You had on Hyunjin’s sweater on top, but under that…you were still just in your bikini, legs bare. He knelt down on the floor, lifting your leg up in his hands. A wave of deja vu overwhelmed you. This position… reminded you of Felix’s birthday party. Almost the exact same thing had happened, when San had broken a beer bottle and Hyunjin had been worried about you. You stayed quiet, letting him probe around. The cut was near your Achilles heel, which explained why it hurt so much. Tenderly, he touched the skin around it, “Does this hurt?”

You nodded, biting your lip, “Yeah. It hurts.”

He sighed, looking up at you, intense gaze, “It’s…not that deep a cut, but…you shouldn’t go in the river or anything. It could get infected”

“So I’ll be fine? We’re done here?”

He let go of your leg so you could put it down, “Yeah”

Clearing his throat, he got up to walk to the door.

You stared after him, “You’re leaving?”

“There’s a store a few miles from here. I’ll get you a bandaid”

“What? You’re gonna drive all the way for that. That’s stupid. It’s…an hour away”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking for your permission, is it?” He mumbled, pushing the door to walk back outside the house.

“Hyunjin” You groaned, getting up to follow him, “Wait! What are you doing?”

He threw his hands up, voice high, “I don’t know. What the hell do you want me to do?”

As if this was your fault, “Well, maybe don’t come to a party you’re not invited to. That would be a great start”

His voice shot up higher, “I’m sorry I fucked up, okay? I came here for Chan. I had no fucking idea you’d be here! I didn’t even know you knew Kairi, so how could I have guessed you’d be at her birthday party, Y/N?”

You swallowed, knowing he was right, frustrated tears rising up, “So you wouldn’t have come…if you knew I was here? I was right?”

He sighed, each word said so powerfully it cut through you, “Yes. It would have changed everything! I obviously would have preferred to stay home rather than watch you make out with your new boyfriend right in front of me!”

Your eyes widened, and it seemed like he instantly regret what he said.

He squeezed his eyes shut, “I’m sorry. I didn’t…mean to yell”

Hurried footsteps distracted you, and you turned to see Kairi walking up to you, confused gaze, “Hey. Why are you all the way here?”

“Kairi. Are you okay?” You asked, immediately embracing her, “I was looking for you earlier”

She nodded, “I am. I am. I just I got to talking with Chan, and we didn’t realise how much time had passed. I’m so sorry, oh my god. Does everybody hate me for abandoning my own party?”

You shook your head, pulling back to look at her, and you were happy to see that there were no tears, “No, no, they’re all having a good time. That doesn’t matter anyway, are you okay right now? Do you feel…okay?”

She nodded, “I am. Chan and me…we talked about a lot of shit. I’ll tell you everything”

“Where is he?” Hyunjin asked.

Kairi’s eyes widened at him, “Hwang fucking Hyunjin! What did I do to deserve the honor of you showing up to my party?”

He smiled at her, and it’s like his mood had changed instantly around her, “Happy birthday, Kairi”

She jumped into his arms, tackling him in a hug, “I missed you dumbass” He hugged her back, warmly, burying his head in her shoulder, “I missed you too, Kairi”

She pushed his hair out of his face, hands resting on his cheekbones, “You look fucking hot, Jinnie. It’s been a while”

His eyes sparkled at her, cheeks flushing, “I hope you’ve been taking care of yourself too”

Why couldn’t you be the one to get a reunion so warm? It was your fault for being bitter anyway, and for trying to start a fight with Hyunjin. You don’t even know what you were trying to do.

“I see you two have been reunited” Chan laughed, walking over to you. He glanced at you, a sheepish smile on his face, “I’m sorry about earlier, Y/N…”

“It’s okay…” You told him, “I get it. You really needed to see her”

He nodded, looking around the grounds, “So did I completely ruin the party?”

“No” Kairi shook her head, “I think most of them are too drunk to even notice I’m gone. Although…Y/N might be a little sad” She pouted at you, “You planned everything. I’m sorry it didn’t go accordingly”

You felt conscious, feeling all their eyes on you, “No, I only did it for you. If you’re happy…that’s enough for me”

Chan nodded, glancing at his wristwatch, “Fuck. It’s getting really late. We have a flight in the morning. Should we drop you guys home?”

They had a flight? To where? You shook your head to answer him, “No, that’s okay. I’m…going with Jeonghan”

Kairi giggled at his mention, “Your boy was passed the fuck out a few minutes ago. I think he drank too much. Eric said they’re gonna drive back in the morning, when they’re all sobered up. Do you wanna wait till then?”

It was almost three am, and you don’t think you could wait till dawn, “Oh…no I’ll just take a taxi home. I have class at eleven”

“A taxi from here to the city? Of course not. That’s not safe” She frowned. You forced a smile at Kairi, “Um. I’ll just take it in the morning then”

“That’s a terrible idea” Hyunjin mumbled.

“Just come with us?” Chan offered, and his voice was so sweet it was hard to say no, but they’d all known each other for years, and you’d feel too awkward riding with them, “I’m just…gonna go check with Nate, if that’s cool”

Chan nodded, casually, “Ah. We’ll be in the parking lot. Look for the black car”

You nodded, “Got it. Thanks Chan”

You glanced at Hyunjin, and he was already looking at you, arms crossed in front of his chest. He averted his gaze as soon as you caught him.

Back at the bonfire, Jeonghan was sitting in a beach chair, talking to a group of strangers. They must be locals who had rented some cabins. His face lit up when he saw you walk to him, “Where’d you get that sweater? Is there a mall here I don’t know about?”

“It’s just my friends” You told him, not in the mood to joke, bending down to be level at him, “Kairi said you passed out. Are you okay?”

He nodded, smiling, “I’m fine, Y/N. I just found out that these people went to the same high school as me, in LA. Isn’t that crazy?”

You glanced over, at some locals who were sat in a circle. The set-up seemed cozy, there was cider and hotdogs that lay between them, “Oh wow. It’s a small world” You told him, “Um, I came here to ask…Kairi was headed home, and she asked if I wanna come with. But I said I’ll stay with you, make sure you’re okay and everything”

Jeonghan’s lips tugged up into a smile, “Y/N. I’m more than okay. You seem tired, on the other hand. Maybe you should let Kairi take you home? I think I’ll chat here with them for an hour or so”

You nodded, biting your lip, “Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you here alone”

He rolled his eyes, “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”

You swallowed, “I’m just being a good friend, Nate”

He leaned ahead, pinching your cheek, “I know and so am I. Please, just get some sleep. You seem exhausted”

You sighed, dread filling you. This meant you’d have to ride with Hyunjin. “All right. I’ll…see you in class on Monday then?”

You got up, to leave but he tugged at your arm, voice dropping, “The boy from earlier. Was that…the guy we saw in the elevator…at Pegasus?”

You looked around, but nobody was listening, so you nodded, “Yeah. That was him”

Understanding settled in his features, “He was…looking at you the entire time he was here. When we were dancing…drinking. He...didn’t look away from you for a second”

“You saw that?”

“Mmh. Is that…the same guy you wanted to…Eternal Sunshine out of your mind?”

You smiled, the movie reference catching you off guard, “Yeah, but um, don’t tell anyone, please”

He grinned, imitating a zip over his mouth, “My lips are sealed”

»»————-

There was a black car in the parking lot. You found your shoes, and your jeans, abandoned by the check-in area at the campground, slipped them on and walked over to the car. The three of them stood there, and the trunk was open. Chan sat in the back, leg pulled up, sipping beer and Kairi was snuggled up to him. It was chilly out here. Hyunjin…stood across them, hands on his waist and they were laughing about something. He seemed so carefree when you weren’t there. His eyes were crinkled, and his laughter echoed in the open night.

His sweater on you was warm, and you felt shy and awkward as you made your way to them, “Hey”

Kairi’s eyes lit up, “Y/N! Nate isn’t coming?”

“He…said he wanted to stay a bit”

“Perfect. We were waiting for you, so we could cut the cake” Chan smiled.

“What?” You laughed, noticing the little bento cake sat neatly in the back of the trunk, “Here? Just...the four of us?”

“Mmh” Kairi nodded, “My favorite people ever. It’s perfect”

Your heart warmed, and nothing had gone to plan, but it wasn’t up to you, “Sure... Why not?”

She jumped up, standing next to you on the concrete as Chan opened the box carefully. He dug into his pockets for a lighter, and lit the candles. It was…definitely not the way you’d envisioned tonight, but this was about Kairi, and in a way…this was perfect.

Under the moonlight, in the empty parking lot, the glow of the candles was bright. Kairi leaned in, closing her eyes to make a wish, and then blew hard on the candles. Chan laughed loudly, singing a bad rendition of Happy Birthday, and you smiled at the sight.

It was strange how they found solace in each other, in an abandoned lot miles away from the nearest city. The celebration was small, much smaller than you’d planned…but it still felt complete. You hugged Kairi, arms tight around her, and she hugged Hyunjin after you. You wonder if your scent lingered on him, through her. He said something to make her laugh, and she teased him by smearing frosting on his cheek. Hyunjin gasped, dramatically, dipping his finger right into the cake.

“No, no, no!” Kairi laughed, hiding behind Chan. Chan rolled his eyes, “Jinnie. You’re not putting cake on her”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, laughing, “Relax…” Although clearly he’d been planning to do just that. Instead of putting it on her face, he licked his finger, tongue swirling around it.

Kairi got on her toes, pulling Chan in for a hug. You still don’t know what they talked about that made them so happy again, but you would have to be patient and she would tell you everything. For a few seconds, they just held each other, indulging in and enjoying each other’s embrace Your gaze drifted to Hyunjin. There was a small smile on his face, and shamelessly he watched them. You remember how much he loved Chan and Kairi. They were…the world to him. So… he must be the happiest right now.

Your own smile fell though, the longer you looked at Hyunjin. He must be cold, but he’d given you his sweater…it wasn’t much but it was everything right now. He made you crave him always, even when you were supposed to be so angry at him. The adoration in his eyes, the softness in his gaze…it used to be yours. He used to look at you like that, and you still didn’t understand what changed.

What happened to make him change towards you so drastically? Why didn’t he want you anymore? After the way you’d acted tonight, showing your immature, petty and vengeful side, he probably wouldn’t want to even…associate with you anymore. A wave of sadness hit you. Had your anger ruined any chance you had with him tonight?

But…why wouldn’t you be angry at him? You had every right. Or maybe…he’d just think of you as the bitchy ex-girlfriend for the rest of his life. You were an anecdote to tell his future lovers, a girl to mention in passing, someone he had a fling with one summer. To you, he was the entire world…but he’d never reciprocate the feeling. You’d ruined everything, because of your sadness. Tears shot up to your eyes, and you looked away.

You wish you never met Hyunjin. Your own thought killed you.

“Come on. We should get going, if we hope to make it to Seoul by dawn” Chan said, pulling away, hoarse voice.

“You’re not driving are you?” Kairi asked him, “There’s a lot I wanna talk to you about”

“She means she wants to get drunk with you in the backseat” Hyunjin laughed.

“Same difference” Kairi shrugged, and then turned to you, “You don’t mind riding shotgun, right? Hyunjin’s a good driver”

How did you end up in this situation anyway? You'd already told Kairi that you had no problem with Hyunjin. You'd already caused so much trouble tonight.

“Yeah. I don’t mind” You mumbled. Chan closed the trunk, after making sure the cake was secure, and you walked to the front. You didn’t even know they had their own cars. You’d always assumed their managers drove for them, but their company probably had no idea they were even here.

Huh. Hyunjin broke the rules for Chan. Just not for you.

You settled into the passenger seat, and Hyunjin sat next to you.

“Jinnie, you’re gonna have to adjust the seat for yourself” Chan told him, as he and Kairi settled comfortably in the backseat.

“Ah. The sins of being tall” Kairi joked. In the rear view mirror, you saw them immediately snuggle together, and Chan wrapped an arm around her, like they couldn’t bear to be apart. Must be nice. You were jittery, and anxious again, having Hyunjin in such close proximity to you. You rest your hand on the console, trying to not look at his side profile, trying to not think of how you were in his sweater over your wet swimsuit.

Chan moved ahead, hand landing on the back of your seat, “So, Y/N. Tell me more. Now that you’re finally here, I’d love to hear about you”

You bit your lip, “I’m sure you already know everything there is to know about me…”

A warm sensation made you jump, and you realised Hyunjin had accidentally placed his hand on top of yours, on the console between you.

“Sorry” He apologised, pulling his hand back.

“Um. It’s fine” You put your hands in your lap. You’d forgotten how warm and comforting his hand was. You wanted to hold it again, for the rest of the ride. Glancing in the rearview, Chan was saying something to Kairi, her face held in his big hands as he looked at her with so much love in his eyes. Perhaps this is why their car had blacked out windows.

“So…how long will it take us to get home, Jinnie?” He asked.

Hyunjin glanced at the GPS, that was above the console, “Says about three hours”

“Fuck. I’m definitely gonna fall asleep” Kairi laughed, and Chan nodded, “Me too”

Hyunjin reached into the glove compartment, taking out a pair of thin silver-rimmed glasses. He put them on, and you’d never seen him wear these before so these must be anti-glare, for the drive. Regardless…he looked suddenly ten times hotter than before, and you looked away. You would blame the alcohol for how attracted you felt to him in this moment.

“What are you waiting for, Jinnie?” Kairi asked him.

“Um. Car won’t start until everyone has their seatbelts in”

He glanced at you, and before you could even think, he had leaned over to your side, pulling your belt out of the hook. Your breath stopped as his face hovered over yours but his gaze was focused on the strap as he pulled it towards him. He clicked it in place for you, crossing the strap over your chest, and waist, then he asked you, voice low and hoarse, “That comfortable?”

Just for a second, he looked up at you, eyes meeting yours. His strong scent infiltrated you. You had no words to say. He was so close, and you just nodded, hoping that would be enough.

“We’re good now” He spoke, leaning back into his own seat, and started the car. There was absolutely no fucking need for him to be doing that for you. You knew how to put a seatbelt on, but now you wished he was always there to do it for you.

Your chest was pounding embarrassingly loud. You think everybody could hear it. You glanced at him, and his hands rested on the wheel, and he looked so fucking attractive. The thin glasses rested on his nose, and he licked his lips, turning around, one hand on the wheel, other on the back of your seat so he could reverse the car out of its parking lot. God, you wish you never met him but you wanted to jump over the console into his lap, and kiss him for the rest of your life.

Hyunjin cleared his throat, and looked at you before turning to face the road again. His gaze dropped to your body for a second, to his sweater hugging you tightly. You weren’t talking to each other, but… your gaze mirrored his, you’re sure. You stared at his face illuminated in the moonlight, darkened look in his eyes. So, he couldn't love you, but you still had an effect on him, and it made you feel proud. Anybody in the world would be able to tell what you wanted to do to each other. Even right now, when you hated him more than anything. Even when he’d broken your heart and made no attempt to patch it back up.

You both said nothing, as he focused on the road, pulling out of the campgrounds to catch the highway. The silence was enough. You’d been in this car for just a few minutes, and you were already dying, air thick with tension.

There were three long hours to Seoul, on a dark highway through the woods, with only the moonlight to guide you, and Hyunjin was inches from you.

You had no idea how you’d make it there, without completely ruining each other.

»»————-

masterlist ⇒

please let me know if you liked the chapter, or any thoughts on this part! thank you :)

#hyunjin x reader #hyunjin smut #angst #Hyunjin imagines #skz x reader #skz imagines #fluff #friends to lovers #hwang hyunjin x reader

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