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crguang · 9 months ago

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wasted with longing, part 2

You have never been so bothered in your life. Why? You refuse to admit it to yourself yet.

friends with benefits, afab!reader, gp!kafka, smut, mutual masturbation, facetime/video call sex, 6k words

A/N: after two whole months… we’re so back (im sorry). i giggled a lot writing this because the simple concept of fuckboy kafka is so ridiculous but i swear there’s a plot somewhere

part one part three

The bright light of your laptop screen starts to burn your retinas, and you blink quickly to chase away the fatigue building up under your eyelids. The words on the page stopped mattering over an hour ago yet you’re in no position to throw your work to the wind; you’ve already made it this far and this presentation is due in exactly 12 hours and 33 minutes. You’re at a stage where you blame everything and everyone that has ever contributed in leading you to where you sit against your bed’s headboard, lights dimmed low as your fingers brush over the keyboard in clicking sounds you’re deafened to. Your anxiety is the only thing keeping you awake, and if you cared about your job just a little less, you would have quit right then. You thought you’d left all-nighters in the past with boring college classes and tiny dorm rooms but life has an irritating way of repeating itself.

You let out the hundredth sigh of the hour and take a moment to breathe in slowly through your nose, head tilted to the ceiling and eyes screwed shut, before exhaling loudly. You steel yourself for what you know is at least another hour of bullshitting statistics that you will do your best to present confidently this afternoon, but you can’t even pretend to like what you do anymore. Working in research has never been the most exciting career despite the occasional interesting discoveries you’ve been a part of. Still, you needed a job that would allow you to afford to live on your own in a city far away from your nagging parents and you were getting good at denying the fact that it is sucking the soul out of you. Your days are mundane, your routine unsatisfying, and you long for something more like most adults your age. You can’t quit until you find a better alternative that will pay you the same or more, so you bite back another exasperated groan and go back to your slides.

You wouldn’t be in this position eight days ago. You’ve had a week to come up with this presentation and instead of working on it like the diligent employee you usually are, most of your time was spent with your head in the clouds, preoccupied by someone who isn’t thinking about you. It makes you sick how bothered you are. It’s not like anything changed between the last time you talked and the one before that, and you were never as distracted by the lack of response as you have been this past week. You ignored your responsibilities, went out with friends four days in a row to convince yourself of your fake nonchalance just to find yourself in trouble that could have easily been avoided, anxious over the career you’ve worked so hard to earn.

Nothing good comes out of allowing that woman a bigger place in your thoughts than the three square feet corner she deserves, you know that. What frustrates you the most is that you don’t understand where this sudden concern for her lack of honesty comes from. Lies flow out of her like she was born with them on her lips; again, you know that. Then, what is the issue? Without identifying the root of the problem, you’re left a snowball of jumbled thoughts and insecurity steadily getting bigger as it nears the foot of the mountain until it inevitably crashes into a tree and falls apart completely. Why say things she doesn’t mean? Are you disposable? You hate her. Does she hate you? You should block her number. Why do you care? Screw her.

…You wish you could.

Your laptop screen turns dark and snatches you back to reality. You got lost in thought again. You run a hand over your face, using two fingers to rub the inner corner of your eyes. You’re pathetic. Even now with this feeling of impending doom looming over you, your mind drifts to her and attempts to find reason behind her actions when there is likely none. Your work is important to you, she is not. Yet, you’re incapable of focusing on the PowerPoint in front of you. You start to wonder if you should lie down, rest your eyes for a few hours and finish the presentation when you wake up, right before you get ready to leave for the office. It would be cutting it extremely close, but you can’t think clearly anymore and the stress gets more paralyzing as the minutes go by. Another tired sigh escapes you. Maybe you simply need to relax a little, perhaps with some scalding tea.

You push your laptop aside and stretch your body on the covers, arms over your head like a lazy cat. You’ll prepare a cup of tea to soothe your muscles then you’ll finish your work and go to bed. If you lie to yourself enough times, you believe you can make it. You straighten up and smooth down your hair. You’re about to stand up when a familiar ping! near you announces a new text message. You reach for your phone on your nightstand, thinking perhaps one of your friends got drunk again and needed a ride home, and tap the screen to open your notification center.

You stare at the screen until it turns black, tap it so it lights up again and repeat the process a couple more times as your mind processes what your eyes are seeing and the implications behind it. You almost can’t believe the message you just got and have to click the notification to open up the private conversation; there, at 2:29 AM, Kafka sent you a video. You can’t make out much from the blurry cover, though the lighting seems low like it was filmed during the late evening. Your thumb hovers over it for a moment, wondering if she even meant to send that to you since she hasn’t texted or called since the last time you hooked up. In hindsight her behaviour is not so unusual, you thought you were used to her elusive ways but if the past week has taught you anything, it’s that you obviously expect something from her. Honesty, basic human decency— to not leave you feeling like a wet towel discarded in the laundry bin after she’s used it.

“…Fuck it.”

Your curiosity gets the better of you despite your self-pity at the prospect of always making yourself available for her no matter the time. It’s a coincidence, you tell yourself. The two of you have many of those. You press the play icon on the video and it expands to the full screen. The camera shakes a little, then steadies to show half of Kafka’s body from an inclined angle and part of her face, peach lips on display. She’s wearing a strapless dress, the kind only worn to impress, with a pearl necklace over her collarbone; it’s your first time seeing her in something other than casual clothes. You have to admit that you wish you could’ve seen the whole outfit, if only to… You don’t know.

Kafka is sitting on a bed judging by the white sheets you can spot, and you blink several times at the unmistakable outline of her cock and hard nipples through the material of her dress. You watch in disbelief as she pulls the fabric up to her waist, revealing the garter belt around one of her thighs. Her hand slithers between her breasts and down her stomach to finally disappear under her clothes, but the way she begins stroking herself is purposely obvious. The head of her cock creates a tent meant to remind you of how big she is, and she pumps her shaft steadily, her lips parting slightly to let out low hums of pleasure. You stare, unmoving, unaware of your pulse’s quicker pace as Kafka jerks off on video, the erotic tone of her long moans filling your bedroom, and you don’t register turning up the volume a bit more. Her hand speeds up a touch, you think she must have already been hard before recording because she clearly won’t last much longer, but instead of rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all, you find yourself hoping she’ll take off that dress and give you a real show. Kafka’s breathing becomes heavier, her moans less controlled, and from this angle, you notice the movement of her hips eager to meet each stroke along her cock. Her thumb swipes over her sensitive tip and her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth at the pleasant sensation. Not a single word is uttered, you can’t hear anything in the background either— not that you were listening for it— it’s just the sinful sounds of her throaty hums and her fingers around her dick. Half a minute passes before her breath hitches in a sharp gasp, and you know she’s going to come right before she does. Your thighs squeeze together at the breathy moan that spills from her mouth, her hand still gently stroking herself. Her lips stretch into that teasing smile you can picture with your eyes closed, and the video ends.

You’re harshly pulled from the daze you were in, staring at your phone. You don’t know what to think, she ignores you for a week then sends you a video of her masturbating at two in the morning with nothing else attached. You can’t deny that it had the desired effect on you; your body feels hotter under your sleeping clothes and your thighs are still pressed together to ignore the throb between them, but once again you attempt to figure out the reasoning behind what she does and come up empty. There’s no use in trying to pry open a steel safe that is sealed shut, so why do you try over and over like you have nothing better to do? Why show up with blowtorches and lock picks when your presence is unwanted inside?

Kafka uses you for pleasure, and you use her the same. That is the nature of your relationship. So, you decide to take that video at face value and press replay. Leaning back against the headboard, you bite your cheek as Kafka’s hand travels up and down her veiled cock while your own restlessly traces shapes into the skin of your thigh. It wanders up your body to cup one breast under your shirt, thumb softly circling a stiffening nipple. You pinch it between two fingers at the same time Kafka lets out a pretty moan and you feel arousal dampening your underwear at the various stimuli. The video ends before you can move on to your thighs and you have to replay it again, and again, to properly build up your orgasm before you’re needy enough to slip a hand under your sticky panties. Your middle finger applies pressure on your puffy clit in tight little circles, jolts of pleasure shooting through you and tightening your stomach.

Eyes half-lidded, you forget all about your work to prioritize the need in your cunt, unconsciously matching Kafka’s pace and wishing she was there to take care of you the way only she knows how. Your hips move with the fingers that rub between your wet folds in a messy pattern. You breathe in sharply through your mouth when one of them finds your clit again and firmly toys with it. You’re so aroused, so wet and needy, but watching Kafka’s playful performance through a phone screen with only half of her body shown and her cock hidden from sight isn’t enough. Desperation builds within your lower belly as you inch a finger past your entrance, barely biting back a breathy moan at the feeling. It sinks in effortlessly, so you add another after adjusting to the slight stretch of it rubbing your inner walls. Your other hand holds the phone closer to your face like that will make Kafka seem more tangible. You pump two digits into your pussy, coating them in your arousal, and it feels so good, has your thighs spreading further apart, but it’s not enough.

A frustrated sigh leaves you. You don’t think before exiting the video and pressing the video call button. The line rings once, twice, and your fingers slip out of you as you wait to see if it’ll connect. After a few more seconds, you choose to save face and go to hang up just as it connects with the other line and Kafka’s smirking face comes into view. You blame the stutter of your chest on your arousal. She blows smoke through her mouth and faces away from the camera for a moment to put out the cigarette you caught her smoking. She’s in casual clothes once again, and by the lighting, you infer that it’s likely afternoon wherever she is. That video she sent must have been filmed earlier than the time it was received, it might also be an older one from before you met. You mistake your disappointment for annoyance.

“What is wrong with you?” Your stern voice has a shaky edge to it that Kafka definitely notices. Her smile widens an inch.

“You look a little… flushed. Saw something you like?”

“Fuck you. It’s almost three in the morning.”

“Is that how late it is there? Mmm, it slipped my mind.”

“Like I’m supposed to believe that,” you put down the phone for an instant, pulling your pyjamas down your legs to toss them onto the bed. You bring the device back up and recline on the pillows, holding it high enough for Kafka to have a view of your torso and the stiff nipples poking through your half-ridden shirt.

Kafka’s lowered gaze unapologetically trails down your upper body. You cup your breast, softly kneading the soft mound between your fingers, and watch her eyes darken with desire.

“I can’t come over.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t ask you to. Just need to hear you.”

“Cute. What if I’m not alone?” Her tone is teasing but she does look up from the screen as if someone could walk by and catch you touching yourself.

“Figure it out.”

“Bossy… And so aroused, aren’t you? From a simple video, no less.”

You let the confident drawl of her words wash over you, ignoring her attempts at riling you up further to focus on the familiar pitch of her voice. It’s rough, intentionally slowed to keep people’s attention solely on what she has to say and control the pace of the conversation, dripping like syrup. You relax into the mattress and let your hand wander down the valley of your breasts, caressing the curves of your stomach. You’re already turned on and aching for release, each brush of your fingertips against your skin requires restraint not to slip a hand between your thighs and circle your clit. Your little show seems to give Kafka a taste of her own medicine, she observes you for a while, her gaze piercing through the veil of lust over her irises.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“I would if you talked me through it,” you reply, expectant, lips parting as your hand teasingly disappears below the camera to massage the flesh of your inner thigh.

Kafka hums, amused and intrigued. You’re sure she can tell how worked up you are and is debating helping you or leaving you wanting. Then she moves, the camera following her every step, and walks somewhere you hope is a secluded room. You don’t recognize her surroundings, she seems to be inside a building but the phone is too close to her face to show anything else properly.

“Did I wake you?” She asks on the way, barely looking away from the screen to watch where she’s going and instead focusing on how your hand travels back up your abdomen, lifting your shirt and revealing more of your chest as it goes.

“No, but it was a welcomed distraction. Walk faster.”

Kafka laughs at your impatience, the sound lighter than her usual arrogant or mocking chuckles and betraying her genuine amusement. There’s a fluttering sensation behind the walls of your heart like the wings of a panicked bird.

“Why? You in a hurry?”

“Yes.”

Kafka enters a room drowning in sunlight, brighter than wherever she was before. You hear the sound of the door closing, then a lock turning before she walks further into the room to sit at what you presume is a desk. The phone is placed far enough from her frame to allow you a full view of her upper body over the wooden surface and the twin-sized bed behind her. The covers are unruffled, the walls barren and white, and you think she might be in a simple hotel room. She leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and resting her cheek against the back of her hand. The index finger of her free hand absentmindedly taps the desk’s surface, mirroring her steady heartbeat. She gazes at you like you’re the most interesting sight she’s seen in days.

“You look so needy… desperate for my touch.” Kafka drinks in the image of you sprawled on your bed, the lower half of your left breast exposed to her hungry eyes. Her mind conjures up many ways she would touch you if she were there, feeling your stumbling breaths in the crook of her neck. “What’s the matter? Can’t come without me anymore?”

Irritation swirls in your gut, mixing with the arousal pooling in your belly at her nonchalant arrogance. Her self-assurance infuriates you mostly because it’s not entirely unfounded; you do wish she was present in person to fuck your worries away but she could be on the other side of the planet for all you know, doing Aeons know what. You don’t have a retort, and you’re in no mood to be teased any more than you felt watching that short video of Kafka stroking herself.

“It goes faster this way,” you lie.

“Mmm… Show me how you touch yourself when I’m not there.”

Her words make your pussy throb. You bite your lip, adjusting your hold on the phone and lowering the camera so she can’t see past your mouth but has a better view of your body. From this angle, the waistband of your underwear is visible just under your stomach. Your fingers dig into your pliable breast, kneading the mound like she usually does to you, occasionally toying with the nipple for the pleasant sensation that ripples through you and causes your thighs to twitch. Kafka’s intense gaze, deeply pleased at your immediate compliance, excites you like nothing else. You know she’s not as unaffected by the sight as she seems to be, her finger drums on the desk a tad faster when you twist your nipple and part your lips to exhale audibly. Your hand leaves your chest and you lower your phone further to follow its path across your torso until it reaches the band of your already slick panties. You sneak a finger under the thin material and Kafka speaks up again.

“Take them off. Let me see you.”

Hesitation takes hold of you for a second, and then you obey her sultry command, shifting to pull the underwear past your hips and down to your ankles. You angle the phone to provide her with a clear view of your wet cunt, breath hitching as Kafka unconsciously wets her lips and the drumming noise stops completely. She’s a statue of desire on the other side of the screen, her heavy stare locked on your fingers spreading your lower lips apart, puffy clit on display. You don’t wait for any other instructions, your need is too great to go unchecked a minute longer; you use your index to circle the bud in quick, desperate motions. Your body’s temperature rises a few degrees and a short, involuntary moan spills past your lips. Your eyes are tempted to close under such stimulation but you want to see Kafka’s every microexpression, every twitch of her mouth and fall of her chest, the flex of her hand against her cheek and the movement of her irises following your ministrations.

“Are you picturing me? My hands on your body, touching you just how you like it?”

You suck your bottom lip into your mouth to seal another soft moan. “Yeah…”

Kafka’s fingers are skilled and precise, stimulating the most sensitive parts of you, some of which didn’t exist before she touched you. She’s learned you by heart as one does a music sheet and makes you sing in a way impossible to replicate alone, an artist missing their accompaniment. You imagine her palms brushing across your chest, teasingly squeezing one breast while her lips ghost over the skin of your jaw, trailing wet kisses up to your cheek. You imagine her slender fingers sinking into your inner thighs to keep them spread before her, drinking in the erotic sight you create under her. You swipe at your clit, each breath heavier than the one before, and observe her body language; how she uncrosses her legs and her hand on the desk disappears beneath the surface, how she tucks away a stray strand of hair so it doesn’t obstruct her vision, the apparent lust in her eyes almost turning their color a shade closer to magenta. Her attention feels like the many cocktails you drank this last week, smoldering down your throat and intoxicating your every nerve. It tightens your lower belly and makes you throb, entrance gushing even when she’s likely thousands of miles away. Your orgasm builds and builds, pleasure steadily mounting and promising salvation the closer you get to the edge.

If her camera was positioned better, you would have seen her pointer and middle fingers drawing circles on her thighs not unlike how you’re stimulating your aching clit, slowly inching higher until they softly stroke the prominent swell over her shorts. You would have been privy to them slipping under her clothes, past her boxers, to caress along her cock from tip to base and draw a sharp intake of breath from her. You’re too lost in the pleasure to notice her next swallow as she wraps a hand around herself and masturbates in tandem with your heavy exhales. Just as you did, she pictures your wandering hands, your warm tongue licking broad stripes up her cock and the quiver of your brow when you struggle to take her into your mouth. You look up at her prettily through wet eyelashes, eager to please, and you suck her dry as she paints your throat white.

Your camera trembles, you struggle to keep it still while you work to make yourself come, digits stuttering on your clit with quiet moans on the tip of your tongue. You’re so close that you barely compute what Kafka is saying.

“You look about ready to come. Are you going to come just from the sight of me?”

She sounds way too pleased for your liking but you can’t bother to care at this moment, all that matters is your impending release. You nod quickly.

“Yeah? Let me hear you.”

“Fuck…” you manage to breathe out, hips desperately bucking into your hand, chasing relief from the pressure building in your belly.

You don’t contain your pitiful sounds of pleasure at Kafka’s request and a soft cry rips from your throat as you finally burst. You come hard, thighs closing together and trapping your hand between them, jolts of pleasure running down your body like a thousand little shivers until you’re a shaking mess on the bed. Eyes screwed shut with the intensity of your orgasm, you miss Kafka’s parted lips and unyielding stare roaming over your arching form, her thumb applying mind-dizzying pressure on her leaking tip under her shorts to tease herself. You take a minute to calm yourself, she takes in the movement of your breasts rising and falling with your chest, imagining wetting them with her tongue so they glitter stunningly in the light when she pulls away. She strokes herself faster and the sound of her satisfied hum helps you realize what she’s doing.

“Hah… This is what you wanted, huh?” You bring your phone higher, circling your areola with two cum-coated fingertips and relishing in the way her eyelids droop. “Sending me that little video to tease me so I’d call and help you jerk off?”

Kafka’s low chuckle turns into a pleased sigh at the end as she touches herself just right, smearing pre-cum all over her throbbing cock.

“I wanna see.”

She picks up the camera and angles it so you have a view of her cock straining against her clothes. The silk of her glove is heaven along her skin, and with the microphone closer to her face you can hear the shallow breaths she releases on her journey to relief. No doubt the friction is dulling her mind, reducing her to her urgent need to come. Your tongue flicks over your upper lip and Kafka almost groans, still watching you intently like she’s making up scenarios of you on your knees with your head bobbing up and down her thick cock. The next time she takes you is already planned out in detail, you’ll be so utterly ruined that you won’t be able to beg her for more.

“I’d get you there quicker if you were here.”

“Mmh… Soon.”

You refrain from rolling her eyes at her obvious lie. Spoken words out of her lips mean nothing, especially with pleasure fogging her mind. Kafka’s following sharp gasp lets you know she’s close to falling apart; you lift your sticky fingers to your mouth, making a show of licking them clean how you would her shaft, and this time she doesn’t suppress the throaty, blissful noise that was sitting on her tongue. She sears your performance in the back of her eyelids and pumps her cock with purpose, orgasm imminent. Her hips jerk upward as her release crashes into her in toe-curling waves of pleasure, hand stuttering around her length and cum staining her underwear and glove. She moans unashamedly, knowing what it does to you, and her eyes flutter shut only for the instant it takes to compose herself afterwards. Her hand leaves her shorts, she brings her wet fingers to the light and smiles up at you.

“Thanks.” Without any underlying cockiness, there’s nothing but appreciation when she addresses you.

You don’t meet her gaze, averting your eyes while you sit up and smooth down your hair. Now that the tension in your muscles has dissipated, you’re reminded of why you were up this late in the first place and the work that still needs to be completed before work some hours later. You sigh tiredly, but your mind is clearer and you feel a spike of energy to finish your presentation, invigorated from your previous orgasm. Maybe you should be the one thanking her.

“What’s wrong?”

You look back at Kafka. “I hate my job.”

“You should quit, then.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Isn’t it?”

“…And do what?” You ask flatly.

“Whatever you want.”

You stare at her momentarily, wondering what kind of reality she must live in where everything is available for the taking. Your studies were largely influenced by the constant pressure your parents put on you to get a sustainable income, and you were too preoccupied with your grades to ponder the what-ifs. They sacrificed quite a bit to have you enroll in one of the Intelligentsia Guild’s schools, your academic success was the least you could do to settle that debt somehow. You don’t care for mechanics but it was a relatively easy subject to study, so you picked it. You’re good at what you do, despite this job not being what you dreamed of doing for the rest of your life. Now, you’re not sure if you even have dreams. You have some skills, sure, but what do you want?

Kafka’s looking at you like she’s figuring you out. You don’t know what she aims to find but a childish part of you hope she likes it. You shake your head as if the thoughts would evaporate with the movement and stand from the bed.

“I should finish my work,” you say on the way to the bathroom, flicking the light open.

“I need to go too.” Kafka pauses, seemingly considering something, then continues, “Do you have plans on Thursday?”

The question is unexpected, it takes you a few seconds to come up with an answer. “Apart from work, I don’t think so. Why?”

“You should stay home. Skip work.”

“Why would I do that…?”

“Do you trust me?”

“No.” The reply leaves you before you can think about it, but it’s the truth. Kafka has never given you any reason to trust her up till now, you don’t even believe half of the things she says. Trusting her for anything would be incredibly foolish.

Her eyes narrow a bit, though that small smile stays on her lips. Your confusion must show on your face, and you have the impression that her demeanor has gotten more serious.

“Trust me now. I have to leave, but I hope you take my advice. If not… Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Wh—?”

The video call disconnects. Did she just hang up on you?!

After a quick shower and a change of sheets, you end up completing your assignment in around 40 minutes and getting a few hours of sleep before you have to leave for work. The day is long, and your anxiety intensifies with each passing hour but you present your project idea with little to no problem. The rest of the week passes quickly with no further messages from Kafka, but you stop expecting her to hit you up for anything other than sex so you get better at hiding your disappointment, enough that you’re able to focus on your job like the development of the past two weeks never happened. On Thursday, you wake up for work and sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone open on the private conversation between you and Kafka, debating with yourself whether you should ask her to clarify her last words to you. You try to recall her expression when she said them. Reading her is hard, her behavior is too well-rehearsed to be peeled to pieces by anybody— and you guess that is what you are; anybody. You feel like an idiot as you dial your office to call off work.

With nowhere to go, you spend the day at home watching shitty TV until the sky begins its descent in the sky, catching up on shows you previously had no time for. You do go out for groceries in the afternoon to cook something nice for yourself once dinner comes around, but your day is mostly boring and uneventful. You’re lying on the couch, half-lidded eyes barely focusing on the bright TV screen as it plays the same sitcom you’ve been watching for almost two hours when your phone rings. The noise wakes you, you blink rapidly and reach for the device, accepting the call without looking at the contact ID.

“Hello?”

“Hey!” Himeko’s musical voice sounds from the other line.

“Hime?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

You rub your eyes with a hand and sit up to pause your show. “No, not really. How’s trailblazing going?”

“It was kinda tough the last few weeks but nothing we couldn’t handle. What about you? Last time we talked you were pretty busy too.”

“I’m good, work has been a bit demanding lately because of this secret project thing I can’t really talk about, but nothing eventful has happened, except…” You cut yourself off.

“What is it?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Oh? Now I definitely want to know. Let me guess… It’s that lady again.”

“Lady?” You repeat with a laugh, “There is nothing ladylike about the way she f—”

“Ew. I get it.” You hear shuffling on the other side, like Himeko is walking from one place to another. “You were complaining about her last time, what happened now?”

“More complaints.”

“I can’t understand why you won’t end things if all you’re going to do is get annoyed every time you see each other. Learn to walk away from unnecessary grievances, they only pollute your thoughts.”

You stand from the couch and walk towards the kitchen, opening the fridge to pull out the stuff you’ll need for dinner. “The sex is really good. Like, great. Like, mind-blowing. Toe-curling, even.” You can almost hear Himeko’s eye roll. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, I don’t know why she has to be so infuriating. It’s obviously a case of big ego, but there’s something more in there. She just won’t let me see it.”

“You’re practically strangers. No wonder.”

“She’s been inside me. I wouldn’t call us strangers.”

“Do you know anything about her apart from her name?”

You pause with one hand around a carton of heavy cream. A door slides shut on the phone. You don’t have to think long to know the answer to that question, but you’re a little ashamed of it. Ashamed and disappointed, because it’s not by lack of trying; Kafka treats every attempt at getting to know her beyond the bounds of your relationship like a battlefield where she has to lie to survive. There’s a constant distance between you no matter how physically close she gets and it’s beginning to drive you mad. It was hot at first, the air of mystery around her is what drew you to her in that clothing store. Months later, it’s simply an obstacle you can’t jump over.

“Fine,” you reply with a sigh, closing the fridge and putting the carton on the counter, “you have a point. But it’s not like I haven’t tried, she just…”

“Doesn’t value you for anything other than sex?”

You don’t respond, mouth curving in a frown. That hurt your feelings, even though you know Himeko is only being honest because she hates this situation for you. She disapproved from the start, said you weren’t the type to have no strings attached, and she was right. You didn’t listen; Kafka is a splash of excitement in an otherwise pretty boring life, unraveling her takes skill and effort, and it is much more gratifying than a research well done. However… perhaps it’s time you do.

“Was that too far?” Himeko asks, voice soft. “I’m sorry. You deserve better than someone who brushes you off constantly unless they want something from you.”

“I know…”

There’s a sudden knock at your door and you furrow your brows as you look at the time on your phone. You’re not expecting anyone and you’re not a fan of people showing up unannounced in general, still, you start making your way out of the kitchen to the front door.

“We had an agreement, though,” you continue, “so it’s not like she owes me anything. I’m the one asking for too much.”

“You want to make connections with people and that is a beautiful thing. If she can’t see that, then she isn’t worth your time.”

You reach the front door, unlock it and turn the handle. “You’re probably r—”

The rest of your sentence dies on your tongue. In the hallway of your apartment building stands a panting Kafka, coat in one hand while the other is pressed hard against her bloodstained shoulder. Her white shirt is tainted with the seeping liquid which turns her glove a deep violet color, blood spatter over her torso and some spread onto her cheek as if she attempted to wipe it off. She’s hunched forward instead of her usual straight posture and the sunglasses over her tussled hair are cracked. You’re frozen where you are, a dozen thoughts buzz inside your head like restless bees and keep you from uttering a word; dread, worry, confusion, you can’t name them all. You have trouble computing what you’re looking at. Kafka looks up at you with the small smile she wears like armor. Even now, her nonchalance annoys you.

“Hey.”

The sound of Himeko calling your name over the phone and asking you if everything’s alright shakes you from your stupor. Your movements are slow, delayed, as you turn your head towards the device close to your ear and speak, “I’ll call you back.”

You hang up without hearing the response.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #kafka x reader #hsr x reader #kafka smut #hsr smut #kafka x you #hsr x you

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boyfhee · 2 years ago

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FAIR AND SQUARE › lhs

SYNOPSIS › one thing about life— it's unpredictable. for example, you made a note to yourself about not associating too much with heeseung for your own peace of mind, letting him stay as the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, except one thing leads to another and you find yourself face to face with the said man with your feelings all over the place. a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition, let the game begin.

WORD COUNT › 20.2k

GENRE › academic rivals / friends to lovers, mutual pinning because they're just competitive and oblivious ft in denial, fem reader, quite the 'he fell first but she fell harder' thing eye guess . . .

WARNINGS › mentions drinking, sheds light on family issues ( mostly on the reader's side ) bruise and injury, slightest of angst, arguments, suggestive ( fourth section, towards the end ) profanities, let me know if you spot more

PLAYLIST › tune in for a better experience

NOTE › i love this fic with all my heart and lungs, even more. anyway, i'm sorry to academic rivals fans, this doesn't have academic blood and gore, as quoted by my dear mai. SPEAKING OF MAI EVERYONE THANK @maiverie FOR BETAREADING THIS FIC!!!!!! im not lying when i say i wouldn't have finished writing this yesterday if it wasn't for her, like thank u for ur super helpful review that got my brain juices flowing :< luv u fr. ALSO both heeseung and reader are taking post grad course so of course, they're aged up ( no ages specified ) have fun reading.

I. BANE OF EXISTENCE

one thing about life— it’s unpredictable.

for example, you’re in the library writing and reading papers on the topic you love, the one that you’re supposed to enjoy and the one that will become the reason behind your earnings in the near future, but here you are, sitting with a headache and a cup of coffee on the side. who knew the subject you've liked since grade one will betray you and become the potential bane of your existence? not you, surely enough. wednesday noons are for basketball matches, which explains why the library and hallways are quieter and emptier than usual. even the teachers make time for the tournaments off their busy schedules, it’s understandable— your university is known for having one of the best sports teams in the league, and the basketball team being the defending champions does nothing but fuel the pride of students and staffs as if they’re the ones on the court, trying to get the ball in the basket.

you wouldn’t say you don’t like being a part of the crowd because you’ve been to the badminton tournaments and know that watching matches is as interesting as playing, if not more. you just don’t have the time to attend any. with assignments piling up and exams ‘round the corner, you’d rather spend your last two months of the semester studying instead of yelling at the bleachers. you can always get the recordings if you ever feel like watching one, as for the results, the word goes around faster in your department than anywhere else, all because of one of the students being on the team.

you try focusing, you really do, but your cup is just as empty as your brain and your phone is going up with notifications. you don’t see the point of miyeon spamming the gc with updates on the match when everyone in the group, except you, is with her, watching and cheering alongside. muting is a choice which you choose not to do, and the reason is between you and god, to be honest. long story short, it’s the lack of motivation clogging your thought process and the realisation that your friends are out there enjoying themselves unlike you is blocking any means of logical thinking. a day or two spent not studying wouldn’t make you fail the classes, and even if the guilt is pooling inside, you pack your stuff and walk out of the library, making your way to the indoor basketball court.

the screams grow louder as you approach, each step reminding you that you still can go back as you choose to ignore it. exams can wait, you tell yourself, a day to myself can’t. your mother would tell you to take breaks and go out instead of studying all day, but being on top is an addiction. it’s no good, you wish other students would believe you, it’s a struggle, on the top, at the bottom, everywhere. you expect to turn a few heads as soon as you walk inside, which doesn’t happen, but you expected it. you don’t watch matches, this could easily be your third or fourth one, and the first basketball match, to be more specific. once you realise that everyone is busy watching the plays instead of noticing who comes and goes from the court, you make your way up to the one friend you manage to spot amidst the crowd— sung hanbin. indoor bleachers feel more compact than the outdoor ones. you've been to the football match last semester, courtesy of miyeon, and everything being outdoors really helps with the crowd and noise.

“didn’t expect to see you here,” hanbin stands next to you, offering you a sip or two from his drink, which you politely refuse, eyes fixed on the court as if it was the home they’ve been searching for. “i thought you hate heeseung,” it isn’t until he takes his name that your gaze averts to heeseung. you don’t even know why hanbin would outright assume you’re here for heeseung. in fact, that man’s name didn’t even cross your mind until he was mentioned.

“hate is a big word, ‘bin,” your words are more of a whisper laced with hesitation, as if you aren’t sure of what you’re saying. hate, actually, is a very big and heavy word. despite its constant usage with your friends, you realise the weight it holds and the impact it has. hate and dislike— they’re different and yet similar enough to be used synonymously at times. not by you, of course, you have a clear distinction between the two, and as of now, you don’t know if what you feel for heeseung is a mere dislike or pure hatred. “i just don’t like him,”

when he successfully shoots a three-pointer, you come to the decision that you definitely don’t hate him. heeseung is, more or less, the typical all-rounder straight-A student, the jack of all trades and fortunately enough, the master of all as well. he's the student teachers use as an example, the son parents wish for, the boyfriend people wished they had. lee heeseung is many things, and one of those is being the reason why you have the second highest score in your department instead of the first position, unlike how it used to be two semesters ago.

heeseung transferred departments about thirty weeks ago, from chemistry to bioinformatics. it had been surprising on your side because not many opted for bioinformatics until they were certain of their goal. the course in itself is vast, like an ocean of several different fields and each and every one of them opens a door to a different outcome. bioinformatics isn’t something students picked overnight just because it had the vacancy and they didn’t like their initially chosen courses. as fun as the subject sounds, it demands consistency and time, something that heeseung lacks. you had seen him attend classes the first few weeks regularly, and then the ghost of him started sitting on the empty seat that belongs to him. skipping classes, arriving late, delayed submission of a couple of projects— you knew he wasn’t here to stay. it was to pass time, or whatever, you couldn’t care, didn’t care, not until he started acing the tests, practically dethroning you from your infamous ‘perfect all kill’ title that you had for getting nothing less than a perfect score, most of the time, give and take a few here and there.

you still get good scores, amazing even, full score in theory and the same in practicals. it’s going well in lab manuals and project works but heeseung seems to get a perfect score in those too, something you started missing ever since he came into the picture. perhaps, it was something in the way he phrased his essays— you hoped it was. rumour has it that heeseung used to be a literature student, which could explain his outstanding english skills and his eloquent way of speaking. you even looked up his debate videos on youtube only to find more evidence on how skilled he is in public speaking.

but above all, heeseung is, actually, just a really damn annoying student, quite literally the bane of your existence. he’s always set on stealing people’s spotlight during lessons, with you being the people, obviously, always answering questions with information that’s unrelated and probably even unnecessary. and for the shortest time, you even considered taking him off your ‘things i hate’ list because you were no different in highschool. when you’re the top student, it becomes a habit to talk about things as if you know them in your bones and impress teachers. hell, you even had rivals in highschool, although none of them got on your nerves the way heeseung does. basically, he has no reason to call you by weird names everytime you both pass each other in the hallways, or remind you that he’s the top student. ‘this is the vice-captain of the basketball team and the best student of the biotechnology department, lee heeseung, informing you on the up—’ seriously, no one wants to hear him introduce himself like that when you’re around. you’re pretty sure it’s engraved inside your brain with the amount of times he repeats it everyday. minjeong even says that heeseung is becoming more and more like sunghoon, and you would not know how or why because you didn’t attend highschool with sunghoon, unlike her.

the court flares up with cheers when heeseung goes for a dunk which ultimately leads to their team winning the match, and you reach the conclusion that maybe you don’t hate heeseung but actually want to bang his head against the walls. your eyes follow him around the court, analysing his conduct during the match, the way he communicates so effortlessly with teammates using hand signs or quick phrases, the way he holds the team together when the ball is with him, despite not being the captain. heeseung might be the most unbearable person you’ve met so far, he’s actually just fine when his target is not you. you’re sure any other player is doing just as good but nothing comes close to how you see heeseung. it’s different, the light he is in, it’s unique, incredible, and inexplicably addictive. heeseung juggles between classes and basketball, you remember sunghoon talking about his part-time job when you passed by their lockers the other day. he doesn’t have it easy, you don’t either, but you had those all perfect kills by spending hours in your study while heeseung does better than you while winning matches, making money.

it doesn’t take you long to realise that what you have for him could be dislike with a hint of jealousy, and you wonder if all the people would react the same way once they know who heeseung really is— a devil behind an angelic face, one who deliberately likes ruining things for you, as if his life depends on it. you still remember the day he personally texted you the wrong syllabus for a test, claiming that it had been updated and the professor had asked him to notify everyone. ‘and as you know, i have not been added in the group chat yet so i’m texting everyone personally,’ he had lied ever so smoothly as if his words consist of nothing but truth, as if lies are something he hasn’t even heard of. kudos to you for studying the original and correct syllabi beforehand, you still aced the test, if heeseung scoring the first rank is overlooked.

you’re dragged back from your thoughts to the reality when a boy bumps into you while hurrying down to the players, hoping to get noticed. half of the students act like the team is actually a boy-band, you can see them on the front page of every single edition of university magazine. usually, you prefer waiting for the crowd to disperse before taking your leave from wherever you are, but a sudden reminder about the tests over text from your professor gives you a reason to leave early, all to make sure you could catch up to heeseung. you rush your way out of the bleachers once the teams start leaving the court, eyes fixed on heeseung to take a note of the direction he leaves. hanbin gives you a confused look before the words find their way out of his mouth. “where are you going?”

“basketball shower room,” and your words could give him, and the other people who might’ve heard you, a wrong idea but you couldn’t care less. the goal was to see heeseung before he leaves the campus, which was highly likely because no one has it in them to attend four hours of classes after an exhausting match, not even heeseung, no matter how amazing he is.

you make your way through the ocean of people, bumping into a few in the process as you make your way to the club room. a silent profanity leaves your mouth once you realise that the club room entrance might be filled with fangirls and boys, left and right, and the thought of shuffling your way out of the crowd to meet heeseung makes you reconsider your actions. heeseung might be a star student but isn’t amazing enough for you to step out of your comfort zone and do things to see him.

“well, this is surprising,” your voice manages to turn his head towards the door. “thought you’d be busy with your fangirls, lee,” and it is surprising indeed because the hallways are unexpectedly empty with only a few people around. you would say they learnt to give the players their space after a game but that would be a lie considering the embarrassing history of students when it comes to people on the sports team.

“they’re probably busy with jake,” heeseung responds with a smile, and even though he turns to his locker just as quickly, you could see the smile dancing on the corner of his lips.

jake is rather a new player, a junior to be specific, and jay personally spent days waiting outside the physics department to get the guy on the basketball team. explains why he’s popular amidst students, he’s talented, good at studies— seriously, you wouldn’t understand how these people manage academics with sports. you couldn’t, and even if you managed to, you would end up passing out every few days. “does it suck to lose your fan-following to a newbie?”

“not really. i still have you here,” heeseung wouldn’t call it ‘losing’ his fan-following because he’s using jake as bait to escape the crowd of students as quickly as possible. a junior has to make sacrifices, in this case it’s to save heeseung by sacrificing himself to the public. although, saying that he still has you looking for him even though a hundred others aren’t makes him feel better about himself. “no but seriously, what did you come here for?”

“oh, it’s for the test on friday,” you pull out your phone, opening the group chat with the professor and the students who took the same course. it’s laughable how the universe put you in the exact same situation twice, although with the tables turned this time, and it takes everything in you to not tell him a made-up, wrong syllabi, and do what is rational. “the syllabi was extended up to chapter fourteen, till page three-ninety-seven. they sent it in the group chat this morning but i’m sure you hardly have time even to think about something else except basketball,”

you’ve known heeseung for two semesters but that’s for the people to say. the truth is, you don’t know him outside what he shows to everyone else. you see him come and go, spot him around the bar with his friends on weekends you pass by it. you know he skips classes and asks students for notes. it’s not necessarily from you, though you’d prefer if he would ask you since you’re the best student in the whole department, after him, as much as you hate to admit it. on some days, you see him in the library, earphones plugged in. if you manage to sneak a glance or two, you’d catch him watching the match recordings and taking notes, you wouldn’t know what notes someone could take from matches. in short, you don’t know heeseung more than how everyone knows him. coming to the shower rooms and notifying him about the test might just be a discreet attempt at striking up more conversations with him, but also, you’re just fine with him being the academic rival slash classmate that he is.

“yeah, semi-finals,” heeseung shuts his locker close, a sigh falling off his lips just like the water drops falling on his shoulder from the tips of his hair, after a shower. “doesn’t help that they’re at the same time as the quarterly assessments. thank you for telling me even though it means you’ll end up losing the first position to me once again,” and of course, the heeseung you know wouldn’t waste an opportunity to strike up a competition. it would be a lie if you claim to hate it because despite the sour look on your face, a part of you loves these little academic races with him. heeseung makes you strive to do better, he’s like the driving force you lacked which made college a whole lot better. after all, where’s the fun in getting a perfect score with the bare minimum effort, without some challenges knocking at your door?

“what can i do, i’m all about fair play,” there’s a subtle shade behind your words, reckoning to the multiple incidents of him ruining things for you. this could take a really nasty turn if you were to resort to his ways, except you won’t because you’re better than him. “good luck, and we’ll see who loses the first position to whom,”

heeseung wipes his hair before switching to texting on his phone, the smile still adorning his face like a jewel. you assume it’s the delight from winning a match, it’s obvious. his eyes couldn’t help but sparkle at every little achievement, always looking forward to something more, something challenging, that’s lee heeseung for you— someone who knows he has an easier way around things but would deliberately walk down another path and test his limits. shocking how it took you one basketball match to see the passion he has for things he’s interested in, that he’s more than a sport jock or a straight nerd, he’s more than someone who takes courses to pass time, more than someone who is just a show-off.

“heeseung,” the dislike, the hatred, the envy, it might all be a lie. “well played today,” because in the end, there’s a minimal possibility that you’re leaving the room with nothing but the slightest of admiration for the guy who is nothing but an obstacle between you and that first position in upcoming finals in two months.

and it would be a lie too to claim that your words didn’t catch heeseung by surprise.

II. RIVALRY, FEELINGS, ETCETERA.

it has been a little over one day since heeseung’s conversation with you outside the shower rooms, twenty-seven hours to be exact. twenty-seven hours of him hearing the same last words over and over again, twenty-seven hours of him failing all and any attempts at straight thinking and twenty-seven hours of him not thinking about anything except you. all of it ends up in three hours of practice and not one good shot from heeseung. the sighs and snickers from teammates fill the court every few seconds— truthfully, they never leave. heeseung is simply too lost to pay attention to them.

“heeseung, you good?” a pat on shoulder from jake and the words following soon after manage to pull him out of his spiral of thought, even if it’s for a brief second.

“he’s not, won’t be anytime soon,” sunghoon replies as if the answer was on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be revealed. “yn came to watch the last match, after all,” there’s a smirk on sunghoon’s face, heeseung can tell it in the intonation of his words.

jay pauses just seconds before going for a layup, joining the conversation. “wait, she did?”

“yep, saw her standing next to that hanbin guy or something,”

“mate, you cannot be acting like this over a girl and that too, four days before finals,” this conversation, as a whole, is beyond jake’s comprehension. a part of the reason could be because he joined the team late, thus missing out on a huge chunk of internal jokes and gossip and goes amidst the players. and no amount of reasons can convince him into thinking that it’s fine to act out-of-character before important matches just because your crush showed up at one of your matches.

“she’s not just some random girl. she never attends matches, but she came to watch my match,” heeseung clarifies as if the reasons behind his antics are valid and acceptable. “you wouldn’t know how i feel right now,”

“you’re on cloud nine, we know, your crush gave you the attention you’ve been lacking but trust me, she would ignore you just as efficiently if she sees you perform like this,”

“she’s not a crush,” and despite it being a well known fact amongst the basketball team that heeseung has a thing or two for you, he always refuses to accept it. one can say it’s the pride thing. you barely even talk to him unless it’s about studies, and your conversations are mostly along the lines of who outdoes whom in tests and assessments. moreover, everyone knows heeseung is the reason why you’re the second best student in the department— as much as you hate to admit it, again— because he transferred and flipped your world, probably even dribbled around with it like a basketball. a word goes around every few days about you glaring at him in class, which is not true, you’re instead focusing your eyes on something in an attempt to think. he just happens to sit right in front of you and be the object of focus. heeseung might as well believe that you hate him, even though yesterday’s conversation was far from how people talk when they hate each other, and his assumptions could account for the constant words of denial that fall off his lips.

jay snickers before landing a hook successfully. “yeah, and i’m a pigeon,”

“oh, shut it, jay,” heeseung turns to look at the other boy. “she’s just someone i admire. have you read her essays? her papers? god, we’re a year away from graduation but she’s already writing mind-blowing papers, one of them was even published in the monthly issue of some magazine. she’s already on her best performance and still tries to do better, always down to guide juniors with lab work and also is on the research team for the paediatrics department at asan medical centre. all this, and she studies all day. if i were her, i’d pass out. i can’t go a day without entering the court,”

“and he says he doesn’t have a crush oh her,” sunghoon rolls his eyes, it’s like if he heard another line of excuses from heeseung, he could see the back of his skull and have a look at hs big, fat brain.

“because i don’t? you guys never had someone you admired so much that they practically became your role model despite being in the same year?” unlike other things that heeseung does, calling you his role model has a reason. first, it can give him a reason to talk to you. heeseung is almost convinced that you hate him, and if this persists, it would get harder and harder for him to approach you, but with the lie— half lie— of you being his role model and so wonderful that he couldn’t help but admire you from afar while trying to overcome his social anxiety gives him a reason to talk to you. plus, it sounds plausible, he doesn’t understand why his brother says it’s bound to fail.

the second reason and more to do with his friend group. no one in his friend circle is capable of keeping a secret— jay ends up spilling tea unconsciously, jake tells one person who he trust and that person turns out to be the most untrustworthy person ever, beomgyu, well he’s on the team but telling him would be like standing on a stage and announcing to the whole campus, and sunghoon, he’s the mother, he cannot digest food without disclosing secrets. even if it’s common knowledge that heeseung has a tiny crush on you, denying it in front of the whole campus everytime one of them brings it up helps him with his reputation and fortunately, ends up keeping it a secret. besides, he’d rather have people tease him for calling you his role model than having a crush on you.

“i surely don’t have someone i admire to the point i read all their papers and know each and everything they’ve volunteered for,” jay argues back, set on proving his point. “tell me what am i gonna do knowing that she’s on the paediatrics research team?”

“i think this is the most i’ve known about yn ever since classes started and that too, because of heeseung,” beomgyu chuckles, earning a side eye from heeseung in the process.

“enough, let’s get back to practice,” heeseung intervenes in an attempt to change the topic. he does not want his closest friends making fun of him for liking someone— it’s supposed to be human nature to have a crush.

“you get back to practice because you’re the only one fucking up because of your silly little crush. i’m done, jay, call me when we’re having a practice match because i need to attend theology or my professor would write me up,” taehyun passes the ball to sunghoon, the latter yelping in surprise at the sudden yet successful catch.

“i don’t have a crush—”

“of course, let’s get you back to practice,” jake cuts heeseung off mid sentence, moving back to take his position as sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung, who, as expected, misses the catch due to lack of concentration.

it’s going to be a long day for the team.

“a little birdie told me you went to see heeseung in the shower rooms?” are the words you hear as soon as your classes are dismissed, miyeon walking up to you and hanbin discussing the set of questions your professor distributed just a few minutes ago.

“i didn’t go into the shower rooms, i was outside, near the lockers,” and there’s a difference. to be in the shower room implies you were there in the shower, which definitely gives rise to several wrong ideas of different levels. specifically, you didn’t even enter the locker room. you were outside, leaning against the door, watching heeseung as he walked freshly out of the shower, a towel around his neck, you both strike up a small talk. yeah, that was the scene, not with you in the shower and whatever miyeon’s imagination leads to after that.

“so you did go!” she claps her hands together as if it’s a celebratory occasion, turning her head to look at the boy next to you. “what were you saying about yn not having a crush, habin?”

“it’s not a crush, miyeon,” and it’s true— heeseung is not a crush. he’s a classmate, a rival, an over-qualified and impossibly competitive student, someone you would want to take your time to study. “what, i can’t even go to tell a classmate about the updated syllabus for a test now? i would’ve done that for anyone, not just heeseung,”

hanbin sighs, packing his bag. “sure, but he’s in the groupchat. he could’ve checked it himself,”

“um, i doubt that,” you’re preparing a powerpoint in your head, multiple slides on why you needed to do what you did. “he’s busy with basketball and i know how he gets when the matches are around the corner. don’t you remember how he skipped two weeks of classes straight because of matches last semester? and it’s the finals this time, i don’t think he even opens texts about anything that’s not basketball. i mean, he responded to my messages six days later because he was busy with practice,”

you say it like you’ve known heeseung for a decade and have been through the ups and downs with him. you wouldn’t care about who does what in the classes, if it’s a paper plane flying right over you, landing just second to the first row of seats or if it’s someone being brave enough and playing music during lectures. biology, in your opinion, is a subject for those who are serious about doing something unique while staying in the academic field. you don’t encounter troublemakers often, once a blue moon if the heavens make a mistake. on other days, it’s quieter than a library, emptier than cemeteries at night.

to think your life as a biotechnology major got interesting after heeseung switched majors is astonishing and equally debatable.

“i don’t see why i should remember all that about ‘just a classmate’ but thanks for telling,” and before you know it, hanbin and miyeon are out of the class, on their way to wherever their next stop is. seriously, they’re having it easier than you. they go to games, movies, drink on weekends— something you haven’t had a taste on ever since the year started. somewhere, you could be blamed for your hectic schedules. studies, lab work, and thesis, they suffice for all the stress a student in post graduation studies can handle. volunteering and writing papers is on you, things wouldn’t have been arduous if you had decided to move slowly, one step at a time. sometimes, the hunger for more leaves you starving— quite literally.

you spend an hour or so in the classroom along with a few other students, going through the same old routine of yours— watch videos, take notes, transfer them to your document in your own words and make it sound as innovative and convincing as possible. heeseung would be better at this than you. you’re exhausted to the point that accepting your defeat to him doesn’t even faze you anymore. he used to be a literature student, had english as a side course as an undergrad, he’s bound to be better than making essays sound they came right out of shakespeare's drafts, phrases and metaphors that would put fitzgerald to shame.

you didn’t care about what went down in your classes until heeseung came along. call it craziness or the weird impression you have of students in your field, heeseung is far from the typical biotechnology student aiming for a postgraduate degree. he skips classes, plays basketball as if studies are a side business, and yet still manages to ace every test like an all-rounder. he shouldn’t even be in classroom, he should be in the labs, being the most important subject of studies. there are days you think of him as a social experiment— how quickly can a robot piss off a straight-A student with its impeccable skills— of course, the subjects wouldn’t know it’s a robot but you do, you’re almost convinced he is one. there’s no way he’s the top student with the amount of effort he puts in. one would claim that he studies after classes, at home slash dorms, but you can bet your life he doesn’t. there have been numerous instances when you’ve spotted him in the background of someone’s picture at a bar. he’s always with people, he has a humongous friend group, god knows how someone can live like that. at first, you were convinced he isn’t real, as worrisome as it sounds, and if he is real then he needs to be studied.

which leads to what you’re doing right now— making your way to the basketball court. you don’t know how or why you’re doing it. you started with your studies, ended up thinking about heeseung, and now you’re on your way to the basketball court. although, it’s not half a bad idea, now that you think about it once again.

your mind goes all the way back to when you watched him play for the first time, which was just a day ago actually. you don’t know anything about basketball, you don’t know much about heeseung either, but there’s one thing you’re sure of— heeseung is class and heeseung on the court, they’re different. you’ve noticed the way he clicks his pen relentlessly out of nervousness when he can’t solve a question, the way his back tenses up for a fraction of a second as soon as he’s asked to explain something. you’ve seen the hints of fear in his eyes when he asked you for notes last semester just three days before exams, scared that he would fail. heeseung isn’t sure of a lot of things and basketball isn’t one of those.

“you’re not practising?” you ask him when you swim out of your thoughts, watching him climb up the bleachers and sit next to you. the court seems much better when it’s empty, free from the loud cheers of spectators, but that could be just you.

“i was, as you see, but i saw you up here and thought it was time for a break,” you could see his teammates shake heads at him in disappointment, proceeding to continue with their practice. “what’s up?”

you don’t respond to him and instead, take your time watching the others practise their shots. you watch the way one of them, who you think is taehyun, goes for a dunk, credits to hanbin for telling you names for a few shots. next to you, heeseung shouts out a tip or two for the boy for him to have an easier and effective approach at the said move. heeseung is good at dunks, you’ve heard it from students, you’ve seen it in the last match as well. just one shot was enough to tell you how good he is at it, it’s like basketball flows in his veins, like he can close his eyes and still manage to get a basket.

your eyes ghost up the court and shift to him— there’s a content smile on his face, a relaxed posture as if there’s nothing for him to worry about. he takes a sip from his energy drink, you wonder if he, or anyone from the team, even gets time to have their meals. the expression on his face, it’s something you’ve never seen on him during lessons. it takes you back to the match, how he looked on court a day before, certain of every move he made, every step, every breath, without doubts, no second thoughts. you’ve done enough lab projects with heeseung to know how his hands shake when he’s preparing a slide or extracting a sample from a centrifuge, afraid that one wrong move and he would mess up the efforts of everyone in the group. that hesitation is nowhere to be seen on the court, gone like it has never existed. as if lee heeseung, the star student and player, has never had an encounter with nervousness and hesitation in his life. there’s a thin line between studies and sport for him, you finally realise it after much consideration. maybe, you’re going beyond your boundaries and making assumptions about a guy you barely know, even if you would never voice all these thoughts to him, you think you know the reason why there’s a different him on the stage when the ball is in hands.

“how did you realise that you like basketball? you know, like it enough to devote so much of your time and have it alongside studies?” because even if biotech is something he’s studying and wants to make a career in, you guess that it’s just a source of satisfaction. in your eyes, through your perception, basketball is what makes him truly happy.

you don’t know why someone wouldn’t pick satisfaction over happiness, especially when it’s coming with its hands full of opportunities to grab that bag.

“eh, i don’t have a sob story about it, if that is what you’re hoping for,” he chugs down the contents of the can before crushing it to the slightest, eyes squinting at the opposite wall before they move back to meet yours. “i never had to sit and think about basketball and studies, you know, as in how am i going to manage both of them. it just happened. i started playing basketball in middle school and it has been with me ever since,”

heeseung’s side of the story is simple— a mediocre guy who was introduced to sports by his older brother and now, it’s one of the most important things in his life. middle school heeseung preferred staying in and playing video games instead of going out. in fact, middle school heeseung resembles you in all the ways that make him different from you right now. he has been good at learning and remembering things, he takes liking to things quicker than others do. basketball was like for him— easy, quick, fun, like a way to release all the stress after a long day at school. in heeseung’s story, there isn’t a main character who helped him choose the path he’s walking right now. instead, all he had was his family who introduced him to the various aspects and opportunities, and he simply ended up joining hands with the ones he liked, deciding to not let it go before the dead end.

“i want to have that passion for things,” a soft laughter falls off your lips, it’s an attempt to make your sob story look less pitiful. “i used to paint and play piano— but painting, mostly, was really good at it. i learnt how to draw before i learnt how to tie my shoelaces. i couldn’t go a day without painting, but then highschool happened, i had pressure to do well, expectations from friends and family, had a dream outside painting, and now, i haven’t painted in years,”

unlike heeseung, art started as more than just a side business to you. it’s not something you were introduced to in the middle of your life but rather is something you grew up with. you can blame or credit your mother for making paintings and having them in almost every corner of your house. it’s one of the reasons why at five years old you were beyond fascinated at all the patterns and colours. no one would’ve guessed that science would manage to sweep you off your feet right from the first grade, given the way your hands danced a duet to their own melody along with a paintbrush, as if each stroke has a conscious life of its own. no one would’ve guessed that your mother would tell you to stop painting and focus on studies, neither would they have known that she would become the reason why you no longer feel the same way about art. as stated before, life is unpredictable— because no one would’ve guessed that sitting here on the bleachers with heeseung and sharing a piece of your life would water the seeds of doubts in your heart, the ones that bloom at the sight of him.

he thinks your story is sad— with all due respect, without sarcasm, of course. it’s the best he can say. “i think it’s more of a ‘connection’ thing. you think you’ve lost the connection but you simply need to pickup a canvas and some colours to relink, if you get me,” because heeseung has had somewhat of a same experience, with music, and sitting front of a piano to play one of sibelius’ symphonies after senior year highschool finals was all it took him to find his lost interest in music. even though it’s nothing more than just a hobby, even if it's just something he considers as a way to pass time, heeseung knows how it feels to let go of something that is an integral part of one’s life.

“it has always been about timing, heeseung,” you shake your head, trying to prove him wrong using your own arguments. “you think i haven’t tried painting again? i still have art supplies stacked up in my cupboard. it’s all about timing. when you like something, you only get a few chances to make sure it stays with you for a lifetime. how many people do you know who have given up on their hobbies because they claim to have lost interest? the thing is, the interest is still there, it’s the inability and fear of not being able to do it again. if you timing is off, no matter how much you try, things won’t work, and what you love will end up becoming a closed chapter of your life,”

a pause. he sits still, eyes admiring your face while his mind is busy replaying your words in the back of his head. heeseung wonders how valid they are when it comes to people. he likes you, despite the constant denial which is only for show, by the way. it doesn’t take a scientist to read him. reading him isn’t even close to rocket science, he doesn’t understand how you haven’t caught up even after being incredibly smart. he has seen you hang out with hanbin— heeseung hates that guy, by the way. there’s no solid logic, it’s just that hanbin seems to be around you all the time and heeseung thinks of him as a leech sucking blood off its host. heeseung would never admit but it’s just his jealousy playing tricks on him, and even though it doesn’t look like you have any romantic feelings towards that guy, it would be fucking embarrassing for heeseung lose you to a guy who isn’t even half as qualified as him. ( yes, he is judging characters based on academic qualifications, no heeseung wouldn’t explain why )

“i like you,” and so, he lets his feelings win for once, deciding to let his heart take control instead, closing doors to any room for rational thinking like it never existed. “you said it was about timing, about trying hard enough and having only a few chances, perhaps, just one bullet, and i’m shooting my shot right now. i don’t want to remember you as a closed chapter of my life,”

it would be such a waste of chemistry if you end up becoming just a closed chapter of his life. heeseung has done his research, more like reading tons of books and watching hundreds of movies to understand the potential that two academic rivals have. no one knows this, not even his closest friends, but heeseung’s favourite genre might simply be enemies to lovers and living that trope doesn’t sound as bad when it’s with you. he has spent hours thinking about the number of productive library dates you could have, working on projects together and brainstorming about the next biggest revolution in the RDT world, changing the public’s outlook at genetics forever. it sounds stupid and makes him sound even stupider, even as a lost cause, but heeseung doesn’t care. in his mind, it’s the best date someone could have. to live and become successful together, it sounds like a perfect plan to him.

truthfully, you have always been a part of heeseung’s future, near or distant. he always always pictures you in his life, standing next to him during graduation, bidding goodbyes at farewell, exchanging shy greetings at reunions ten years later while reminiscing about everything he did to irritate you, that would sound embarrassing a decade later. your presence will always be significant to him, he just hopes to remember you as something more than just a rival, just a classmate he never really got to know, just a person he spent his two years hating upon, just a crush he didn’t get to confess to.

the catch— heeseung has already started picturing his future and you are not even sure of your present— and while he is looking at you for an answer, you’re lost inside your head, looking for words to articulate.

heeseung is someone you planned to stay away from for the rest of your university life. him stepping into your life already costs you a lot, namely: dropping in ranks and losing your infamous title. his actions cost you the time you could use to study, which is actually upon you because you can simply ignore him instead of spending hours on thinking about his hows, whens and whats. heeseung was supposed to be the academic rival slash classmate that he is, instead of allowing him to be something more, but beyond rivalry, feelings, etcetera. you knew the way you felt about him, even though you couldn’t be as certain as him, or even to claim you see him the same way he feels about you.

turns out, heeseung has always been sure of certain things in his life.

“heeseung, i’m—”

“not sure? busy? stressed? i know you have a lot of things going on right now. take your time, study for the finals, finish your papers, sort out your own issues and then come back to me. i’ll be waiting,” it’s like he’s not only good at studying but also at reading minds, because heeseung seems to have guessed a part of exactly what you’ve been thinking. call it timing, jay calls him to get back to practice just a few seconds later— a perfect excuse to leave. “looks like my break is over,”

you sit speechless, watching him walk away like an opportunity that just walked out of your hand. it feels like a slight defeat, like a test you failed when you could've scored better, if not a full score. it's funny because this wasn't a competition, you weren't rejected, more like you rejected him, but it still feels like he has the upper hand. it's funny and equally annoying because heeseung is supposed to be nothing more than just a nobody, somebody you aren't even supposed to spare two thoughts on, but here you are sitting with the guy with your feelings all over the place.

“heeseung,” you stand up, your voice making him turn to look at you, both of you ignoring the sight of his teammates standing motionless in their positions, too stunned at your voice reverberating in the almost empty court. “let’s do this: if you manage to stand first in the finals, i’ll date you,”

a lowkey confession leading to a mere competition. his lips morph into a smirk, the ones he'd pass you before tests, an open challenge offered directly to you. “and if i don’t?”

and you mirror the same smirk back at him, you weren't going to back off simply because it's about the person you possibly have a crush on. “i become just a closed chapter of your life,”

let the game begin.

III. LIAR AND THE LOVER

despite heeseung’s sudden confession, you’re doing quite well, taking it better than expected. you had your moment of confusion back when the words of proposal fell off his lips— anyone would. after all, it’s lee heeseung we’re talking about. you can only imagine the saddened faces of his fangirls once they hear about him confessing to you.

“jay told me you made a bet with heeseung?” hanbin’s question catches your attention as soon as he steps into the cafe, managing to turn a few heads towards you in the process.

“you know jay?”

he sits next to you, pulling out his laptop in a hurry. you can guess it’s because of his essay that’s due before six in the evening, one he could’ve written last night instead of getting wasted at his friend’s birthday gathering. “we share history, also, that’s not the answer to my question,”

“it’s not a bet, ‘bin,” your words aren’t half wrong. “just a silly game, y’know? i didn’t even expect him to agree,” frankly, even you don’t know why or how you came up with such a bizarre idea in broad daylight. usually, people get bouts of excitement or embarrassment while confessing or being confessed to, but in your case, you jumped over the fence and made a proposal that you have only seen in fiction.

“nah, no way you’re setting up your whole love life for failure and calling it a silly game,” the disappointment is evident in hanbin’s voice as his fingers danced over his keyboard, typing with a speed that could leave the trains behind. well, people tend to get like that when you have an assignment due and the deadline is just a few hours to go. you guess that he’s too busy to even listen to your reasoning, which is appreciated considering you have no reasoning as for why you did what you did.

“you made a bet with heeseung,” you turn your head around, making the boy next to you do the same in the process. it’s miyeon— you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. your actions have consequences, as always, and one of them is dealing with her non-stop interrogation as if you’re the prime suspect for some gruesome crime and every question answered wrong opens gates to capital punishment. sometimes, you wonder why she didn’t go with studying law instead.

“how do you know?”

“everyone knows, yn. it’s all they’ve been talking about,” she sighs, sitting opposite to you while taking a look at hanbin’s laptop. “even the football fanatics are talking about attending the game, god, hanbin we better hurry that day or we’re not getting a seat,” you should’ve seen it coming, honestly. miyeon might not be the most social person, but she definitely is the most updated. nothing escapes her, every tiny incident reaches her ears one way or another, and if not, then she just finds out about it using her sources, given you don’t know about her sources. it’s one of the reasons why you’re almost convinced that she runs a shady side business alongside her career in bioengineering.

you take a sharp breath, going through the bunch of papers arranged in your file. “it’s not that serious. he confessed to me and i said i’d date him if he manages to secure the first position in the finals as well,”

“you did that knowing he hasn’t been studying because of games while you’re studying like your life depends on it? there’s no way he’s going to be first, and everything aside, it was a wrong fucking move to play with his feelings,” play with his feelings— a pause, you don’t like how it sounds. you’re not playing with his feelings, that’s far from what you’re doing. it’s a game, a competition, new to your friends but you and heeseung have always been familiar with it. there’s an unspoken rule to test each other’s limits. the last time you and heeseung did something like this, it resulted with you writing ‘lee heeseung is smarter than ln yn,’ in bold on a sheet of paper and putting it on the notice board for the whole campus to see. in your eyes, it's history repeating itself yet again. sure, there is something else at stake, but the rules are the same, and you don’t know why your friends are acting like you’ve done something terribly unethical.

“no one’s playing with his feelings, miyeon, and i know for a fact he’s making time to study for finals,” you clarify your side, slight annoyance evident in your voice. “besides, it doesn’t matter. it’s not like this is serious, i only did this to buy time to figure out my feelings while the game gives me a reason to study and not get distracted. you know how i get when i lose focus,”

that could be the reasoning behind your actions, of course. even while sitting in a cafe with your friends and having a conversation that is about to make your blood boil, you’re thinking of heeseung in the back of your head. his words play over and over again like a broken record player, the image of him on court or studying pops up in your mind every now and then. obsession is a disease and you have it bad. it’s crazy to be thinking about someone so much without being absolutely floored for them.

“so you’ll date him despite the outcome?” hanbin drags you out of the well of your thoughts, a question that leaves miyeon flabbergasted.

“if i manage to figure out my feelings then of course,” a chuckle falls off your lips. “i’m telling you guys, it’s not that serious. i’m sure he knows it too,” and you’re really confident about this— it usually never ends on a good note.

“and if he doesn’t? what if it’s serious for him? yn, you never know how one thing might affect someone, and feelings are not something to gamble on. you should’ve told him you need some time to think instead of giving him a false hope or whatsoever,” it’s now that you start having second thoughts. the next two hours go by amidst silence, a few small talks blooming here and there, but dissolving just as quickly within the ticking clock of deadlines for assignments and exams.

it doesn’t take a scientist to know when miyeon is upset, for she isn’t the best at masking her emotions. through the sneaky glances at her that you’ve stolen over time, you can tell she’d rather spend the evening in silence than talk to you, which is a challenge with herself because she’s really talkative. it takes two to sing a duet, two to play and game, two people to make a relationship work. heeseung and you— the two of you are enough to make decisions for yourselves, decide what’s right and wrong and, something about miyeon questioning your choices doesn’t sit right with you.

too many cooks spoil the broth, it’s the principle of your life, the words you’ve been following to this date. it was your decision to have a few friends instead of a fifty— quality over quantity, as one might call it— and there has never been a moment when you regretted having a handful of people to call friends. instead of consulting too many people about your major in university, you simply went with what your parents and homeroom teacher suggested. life has been good so far. the more the better is something that isn’t applicable in your case. instead of telling everyone about your dilemma regarding heeseung, you decided to keep it to yourself, eventually opening up to heeseung when the time comes. you’re doing just fine on your own, it doesn’t make sense to you why a third person’s opinion is making you doubt your decision making abilities that you’ve been so proud of.

this is not a gamble, you tell yourself, it’s a fair play. you gave him options, he made the choice, it’s consensual. you didn’t force him into this game, he didn’t pressure you to respond, it’s a harmless competition that’s bound to have a positive outcome. you even spend a good fifteen minutes wondering if you should go back to heeseung and take it all back in case he finds it insensitive to put his feelings on the line. doing it in person seemed impossible so you resorted to texts, typing and deleting your message before giving up altogether. in your head, this was an okay decision. a sweet confession, a person with unsure feelings, a harmless competition.

you hope it doesn’t backfire ten times worse.

three days later, you find yourself on the way to basketball club rooms once again. you checked the court, it was empty, and your only option was to check the club slash locker rooms if you wanted to see heeseung. okay, first things first, you don’t miss him— maybe a little, but it’s because you miss hearing his weird ass answers in class even though they’re right. heeseung just has an unique approach to things, in other words he simply knows how to buy time and go in detail about things he’s an expert at to impress the professors. however, that doesn’t seem to be the case for him because he has approached you six times in the past three days, asking if you’re free to hangout.

you like to think he misses you or that his requests were because he wanted to make sure you don’t study and lose to him, either could be true. knowing heeseung, he’s capable of going both ways. whatever may be the reason, you turned him down all six times, and it’s not because you have something against him— of course, you don’t. that’s common knowledge by now— your reason for not hanging out with him is studies, as expected of you honestly. the bet aside, you had way too many chapters to learn before exams and all heeseung ever does is take up your headspace everytime you sit down with your books spread open. avoiding him in thoughts wasn’t possible so avoiding him in person was your last straw.

which leads to the present : you rushing to heeseung, again, not because you miss him but because you need his help, though one of the reasons could be that you feel bad for turning him down six times. you can hear muffled laughter from a distance as you approach the club rooms, a bang against one of the lockers, a loud profanity that follows afterwards. their humour is beyond your level of understanding.

“heese— oh, um—” you greet and turn away just as quickly when you realise that one of them is shirtless. it’s obviously heeseung, you can’t mistake his face for someone else. and you’re guessing he’s the last one to come out of shower because everyone else is dressed, maybe he’s someone who likes to take his time showering— you seriously need to stop thinking before your imagination goes bonkers. “sorry, can you come outside for a second when you’re ready?”

another round of laughter follows, more like teasing remarks because you can swear you heard a few of them refer to you as his girlfriend, and it gets you a little flustered, you won’t lie. you even hear one of them yell ‘ooh, get it, heeseung,’ as heeseung walks out, fixing his t-shirt, responding back with his middle finger up at whoever made the comment.

“hi,” his voice isn’t much louder than a whisper, eyes fluttering between you, the floor, and his teammates who pretend to not look when you peek inside. there’s a soft smile on his face— it’s cute, you think, and then rethink what you just thought. heeseung is, well, not cute— usually. he’s good-looking, handsome, hot, sexy, even, since you’re on the topic of finding adverbs that suit heeseung. cute is rarely one of them, you don’t think you’ve seen him as flustered as he is right now— rubbing his nape, a tint of pink on his cheeks, avoiding eye-contact— that’s far from the heeseung you’ve been seeing for past two semesters.

“hi, can you send me the pdf of the extra set of questions that prof sent last week? i think i accidentally deleted it while clearing up my storage,” you get straight to the point, trying not to waste much of your precious time. “i could’ve texted you but figured you’d be too busy with practice to check messages,” you remember what happened last time; he took six days to reply to your texts. you’re quite a patient person otherwise but in this case, you’re in dire need of questions to practise for tomorrow’s mock.

“ah, sure, give me a minute,” and he pulls out his phone, scrolling through an ocean of files and documents to look for the one you need. you do think he’s gorgeous though, it’s a well known fact that he’s stunning, but you think this look of heeseung surpasses the other ones quite easily— hairs wet after shower, partially covering his forehead, a white t-shirt that’s slightly wet near the shoulders because of the water dripping down— you wish he’d at least dry his hair before catching a cold. “actually, i would have replied to your texts if you had— oh, yes, there you go. do you want me to email it to you or…?”

“oh, just texts would be fine, thank you,”

“done,” a pause, you feel his eyes on you as you go through the pdf to take a brief look at the contents. “do you want to go for a walk? or are you getting back to studies?” at this point, you’re sure that question is a way to tease you about your obsession with studies. heeseung may think you’re overdoing it because you want to win, but it’s no more than the normal amount of hours you spend studying. he never paid you any attention to care about that.

“no, i’m done for today, actually,” and that’s a big fat lie considering you were planning to solve some questions and revise two chapters before leaving the campus, but it’s fine. you feel bad for rejecting him six times either way.

never in your life did you imagine that you’d be going on a walk with heeseung. it’s nothing serious, you just didn’t think there would be a day where you two would have normal people conversation while doing normal people activities instead of trying to disparage each other based on grades and academic performances. to think about it now, heeseung isn’t half bad, it was all in your head. it’s not like you had vile assumptions about him, you did find him annoying and way too prideful— anyone like him would be, actually, and heeseung is still quite humble about his achievements because if it was someone else, they sure would have made it everyone’s problem.

actually, heeseung is insufferable as well. you remember your first encounter with him, first and so far, the worst— in the laboratory. you and heeseung sat next to each other and when the professor asked him to briefly explain his experiment, you realised it’s oddly similar to yours. you had accused him of cheating, like any sane person would, which led to him getting two scores less than a perfect. he only lost one score because of you, actually, and that too because you were professor’s favourite and heeseung was new to the department. the other score, you don’t know where he missed, but that incident led to heeseung deleting your powerpoint thirty minutes before your presentation, which led you stealing his notes and selling it some junior through an undercover twitter account, which led to the professor asking you to help him with notes before exams, and everything ultimately led to the realisation that heeseung is actually quite decent if you behave with decency as well. the give and take is serious for him, because he gave you notes and so, you had to take his offer of going on a walk. even though it seemed like you had a choice, a part of you knew it was a mirage. you would’ve ended up on a walk with heeseung one way or another.

“i come here whenever i’m tired or just not feeling well,” he says and you wake up from your daydream of memories you shared with heeseung. the way he phrases his words makes it sound like he has brought you to one of his most secret locations, one that no one knows except taehyun, probably, considering they’re close friends, but in reality, it’s the playground you pass by every single day on your way from your apartment to university.

“oh, are you okay? are you nervous for tomorrow’s match?” you continue, deciding you shouldn’t ruin his favourite place for him. honestly, no one would’ve guessed that lee heeseung would come to a children’s park on bad days.

“actually, this walk was for you, you looked like you’d pass out if you spent another hour in front of books,” and you’re done, standing speechless with your eyes wide open at his words that he says with a victorious smile on his face. “you should start taking breaks, yn. it’s not a bad thing to go home earlier when you’re tired,”

he’s right, oh, you know he’s absolutely right about everything he just said, from passing out to going home. a part of him probably even feels glad to have you out on his little walk with him, you’re getting your well deserved rest, thanks to him. heeseung might even ask if he can walk you home considering you’re ‘done for today,’ which is very thoughtful of him— but what does this make you? a liar? miyeon was right, you’re gambling, even though it’s not that serious. so far, you’ve lied about being done with your studies and the bet you made with heeseung because at this point, it’s more like a prank, except it’s not funny and that it might end up with him getting upset with you because tomorrow is basketball tournament’s finals and you’re here wasting his time, all because you lied.

a liar and a lover, on a date at children’s park— match made in theatre club, you’d say.

“are you sure this is not your way to manipulate into not studying and losing to you, just so you can date me?” you try to play it cool, knowing very well that it can be one of his tricks or whatsoever. after all, it’s the same heeseung who made you trip in front of your class just three days after being transferred.

“i was being genuine but it doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” of course, it doesn’t. he gets to win, after all. “can i walk you home?” just as you had guessed.

“i would love to go home but my bag is still in the library,” you had considered taking it with you, actually, but dismissed the thought once you realised you had to come back to the library and continue with your studies. albeit, you’re not studying, that’s on you for lying into oblivion and giving into his requests.

once again, you two are back to walking, this time back to the university campus. it’s nice, having a walk with heeseung, it’s sweet, slow, comforting, like slow music flowing around and engulfing you in its arms. the unsaid words are weighing on your shoulders, you can feel the pressure, but it’s not awkward. above the busy hustle of the city and blaring horns, it’s a quiet world with heeseung, it’s nice, like a warm hug after a long day. you didn’t think you had it in yourself to spend a minute next to him without overthinking and possibly starting a banter. you didn’t think heeseung had it in him either, to make a walk feel so close to home.

“so, how are you coping knowing you’re going to lose once again?” and, it’s back again. everything is a hoax actually— his looks? a trap. his smile? a trap. it’s all a facade because once he opens his mouth, nothing but horseshit comes out of it.

“very well, in fact, because i know i’m the one getting that first spot this time,” call it overconfidence but you really do think you’ll get your title back this time. you’ve been studying well and hard enough, solving questions and going through every extra set of notes and exercises your professor sent. although, you would claim to beat heeseung had you been prepared or not because it’s fun messing with him.

“i’d rather have you show some mercy, in that case,” before you know it, you’re already standing in front of the library. “academic defeat and a heartbreak, it already sounds painful. i hope you go easy on me,” it’s sarcastic, of course, all these saccharine words of confessions made you forget how he is under the layers of smiles and winks that adorn his face. a session full of silence follows, the comforting tranquillity morphing into something tensed as he steps closer, your breath getting caught up in your throat as your mind dysfunctions— it’s the effect he has.

“heeseung,” you put a finger on his lips— the only thing between him and you, the only thing helping you stay sane and composed at the moment, because only you know the struggle of pulling yourself together while standing inches away from heeseung as he grabs your wrist and plants a soft kiss on your finger before removing it from his lips.

“why, that’s unfair. you get to see me anytime you want while i have to wait because you’re busy studying, you even get to see me shirtless, and i can’t even get a kiss?” and you hate the look in his eyes, you hate how close he is standing and how it makes your heart go crazy. this isn’t even the beginning and you hate how you feel like you’ve already lost, and you hate how confident he is with every breath he breathes against your lips. “just kidding, see you tomorrow,”

and you hate how this is where you realise that you’ve fallen deep, and you’ve fallen hard.

IV. PLANET TO A SUN

heeseung has been thinking about the walk for an hour and twenty-seven minutes— actually more, ever since the moment he got home last night, but that is how long he has been practising for, eyes on the ball but mind revolving around you like a planet to a sun. you had texted him about a rule this morning— no kissing before finals. actually no kissing before we start dating, lee— your exact words. they have been holding him back from thinking straight, even made him practise an apology while looking in the mirror if in case his actions offended you in any way. lost in thought, heeseung manages to get another shot in. that’s twenty-third in a row ever since he stepped on the court, which is unbelievable, even for him.

“is it just me or did heeseung’s performance improve overnight?” jake looks up at jay, fastening his shoelace, a chuckle escaping his lips that goes unnoticed.

the latter offers a hand to jake, helping him stand as they share a laugh before jay passes him the ball. “well, of course it will. he has to impress his girlfriend today at finals,”

“she’s not my girlfriend,” heeseung grunts almost as if hearing you and the word girlfriend in the same sentences cuts ten years from his lifespan. he knows it doesn’t, he’d kill to call you his’. the reason behind his edgy behaviour is your text and the weird rule you’ve inserted in an already weird bet— it’s not like he minds it, the bet, obviously. heeseung definitely minds not getting to kiss you for the next few weeks.

“yet,” jay clarifies, emphasising enough for the world to understand that his words are supposed to be in italics. “she will be if you score more than her in finals, which i don’t think is possible because unlike you, she has been studying all day everyday. i don’t know how she’s still alive,” and jay isn’t half bad student himself. juniors in business have his name residing on the tips of their tongues. he simply thinks you’re a freak for being in no clubs and not participating in anything that doesn’t involve studying.

“she’s the top student for a reason,” jake adds.

“i am the top student,” and hearing his friends call you the top students hurts heeseung’s ego a little bit. crushes aside, you’re his rival before his girlfriend, and you’re not even his girlfriend. you’re basically just a rival. “also, it’s not hard to study all day if you’re used to it,”

and jay scoffs in disbelief. “right, you would know something about it, lee i can’t go a day without playing basketball heeseung,”

“hey, everyone,” your voice reverberating in the court is what stops heeseung from responding to jay with a snarky remark. “just wanted to wish you all goodluck. i really hope you guys win the tournament or else, it’s going to be hard for heeseung to deal with two loses after i beat him in finals as well,”

heeseung rolls his eyes in disbelief, you hear taehyun exclaim that he has been team yn since the very first day, a claim that few others proceed to back up, especially sunghoon, with his own lore of how he prays everyday for you to win the bet with heeseung. you’re honoured to receive such support, to some extent. a part of you still wishes for the whole thing to be a secret restricted to just heeseung and you but again, it was your fault for placing bets in court, in front of the entirety of the basketball team to witness, even their coach.

“you’re a little too confident, don’t you think so?” he smirks, taking a few steps towards you with the ball supported between his arms and torso. “let me know where you’d like to go for our first date,” and it turns out heeseung is just as confident about winning the bet as you, perhaps even more. you are not surprised, being defending champions does that to people, or so you believe.

“mhm, let’s have you score a date first, lee,” you would have loved to talk more but decide to bid your goodbyes as soon as hanbin’s message pops up on your phone, the little scowl on heeseung’s face going unnoticed the moment he sees his name on your phone screen. heeseung would never in his wildest dream confess to being jealous— it doesn’t even make sense for him to be jealous of hanbin because he confessed to you, and you seem to like him back. his worries are pointless just like the useless art projects his art teacher used to assign in middle school.

your fingers dance on the keyboard of your phone as you reply to hanbin, the subtle taps synchronous with your steps with you rushing across the quadrangle, taking the nearest flight of stairs to the library. you wanted to spend the day at your apartment since classes are suspended for the rest of the day on account of the match. however, hanbin managed to convince you into coming to the library to help him with a few assignments here and there. you’re not opposed to studying on days-off, in fact you think it’s better since you get all twenty-four hours to yourself instead of investing any of it in classes. the match gave you an excuse to call in for a break, or an excuse to take your time choosing the outfits as if you’re the main character on such a big day.

the librarian gestures to you to slow down the moment you almost avoid slipping on the tiled floor, in the process of holding the door frame to stop yourself, an embarrassed apology makes its way from you to her as you spot hanbin in the further corner with his airpods plugged in. your first instinct is to scare him from behind but the thought leaves your mind as soon as you remember that you’re in a library, and getting kicked out on a day that has been treating you well so far doesn’t sound so smart.

so, you settle with approaching normal, instead of pulling random stunts, pulling out the chair opposite to him quietly to not make any sounds, mumbling a soft ‘hi’ as he takes out one of his airpods. “where’s miyeon?”

“sick, she’s skipping today’s match as well,” hanbin replies, eyes fixed on the notes he's copying from the laptop to loose sheets of paper, before looking up at you with another question on the tip of his tongue. “are you two still not talking?”

“we did, none of us brought up what happened that day, though,” you shrug as if it doesn't bother you anymore, as if you don't want it to bother you more than it already does.

miyeon and you have known each other since university, she was a senior in undergrad course who was forced by financial circumstances to skip one academic year, thus rejoining in third year along with you and hanbin. seeing her was less frequent while she was still a senior, although you're not sure if you've spent more than three days away from her ever since postgrad school started. a heavy tension masks all your conversations with her, over texts or in person, and even though you're trying to act like the small talks with her don't hurt you, a part of you is starting to miss the best friend you used to talk to all night, about wasted matters and sharing useless gossip.

silence fills in for the lack of words between you and hanbin and you allow it to do so, deciding not to disturb the decorum of the library anymore. you scroll through your phone mindlessly, there’s nothing to look at except people going crazy about the evening's match. you even manage to stumble upon a thread of arguments featuring students of your university and the one the team is going against. it’s all empty threats, seriously, ‘kys’ and ‘ur mom’s in my bed’ aren’t even insults at this point. they’re funny, sometimes, but you’ll never understand why or how they ended up being insults. ( honestly, you don’t see the potential )

“are you serious about heeseung?” a crack in the ice, hanbin's question catches you off guard, with a number of questions running back and forth in your mind before you settle with the one to respond with in return.

you blink in confusion. “i guess so, why?”

“nothing, it’s just i never expected it to be him, y’know, considering your history,” you think it's unavoidable, questions along these lines, they would've been asked sooner or later. truthfully, even you didn't expect yourself to fall for heeseung.

your history, what even is there to call history except blood and war? both you and heeseung have been up each other's neck from the moment your gazes collided. it sounds like a stupid beef between highschool students, almost embarrassing now that you both are nearing post graduation. with all the days that you’ve spent thinking about ways to get on his nerves, or worse— ruin his projects, it wasn’t just you who resorted to ruining each other’s hard work— no one would have known you and heeseung would ever end up on this note, with him chasing you and you pinning for him, all under the blankets of a silly bet.

“well, as i always say, hanbin, life is unpredictable,” there’s a smile dancing on your lips, a dazzling hint of factuality in your eyes. “besides, he’s a nice guy behind all the annoying things he does. i think he's pretty serious about me, or us, too,”

hanbin has noticed the way you smile at your phone. it doesn’t always happen, only when you’re talking with miyeon or a few friends from highschool, now heeseung ranks up on that list as well. he’d be lying if the uneasiness doesn’t bother him, it’s bound to surface when he remembers all the nights you spent complaining about heeseung. actually, the rant session included hanbin, you and miyeon, but she would rather go to sleep than listen to you complain like a child for hours on roll, leaving you and hanbin driving the conversation. he has lost count of the amount of times you’ve ended up crying in the process, or the amount of times he has hung up on you only to show up at your place late at night to make sure you’re doing okay, and the nights you two have spent watching movies and falling asleep on the couch, followed by the mornings gone by with miyeon being salty over the fact that none of you invited her to your impromptu nightover.

the thought of heeseung confessing to you still surprises hanbin, it’s one of the things he deemed as impossible since forever. and he can go, warn heeseung about hurting you, dropping all sorts of threats at the boy. hanbin can go on for hours about how he would make heeseung’s life a living hell if he ever broke your heart. he can prove the righteous friend that he is, but at the end of day, he would always be the third person between you and heeseung. hanbin can only assume so much about you two, not even sure if all of it is right. he can only wish so much for you to have eyes for someone else.

and so, all he does is shoot a smile at you. “i hope he is,”

the only time you step out of the library is exactly three hours and thirty three minutes later, to sprint towards the basketball knowing that you absolutely cannot afford losing seats in the first two rows. fortunately, or unfortunately enough, you’re not the only student going crazy about the game. you can swear at least a dozen came out of the library right after you, even though all of them may not attend the game.

you’re already running late— well, still twenty minutes early but that doesn’t give you much time to meet the team and secure the front row seats. and meeting the team is an excuse, let’s be honest. you want to meet heeseung, have a quick private talk, kiss him good luck, you don’t know; you wouldn’t. your head is in a mess, behind you hanbin is yelling for you to slow down as you run down the stairs. half of you is worrying about seats and the other half is wording her sentences out for you to say when you meet heeseung, and the team. you can wish them all the luck in the world, after all, it’s the university team and you would love to see them win. the whole craze about sports doesn’t feel real and worth the hype but things start coming full circle when you’re the one watching. slowly, as one would expect, but you are starting to understand why everyone goes bonkers during tournament season.

“damn, slow down,” hanbin huffs, grabbing your arm for you to slow down. “it’s not like they wouldn’t start without you,”

“that’s the problem. what if they start without me?” but your legs wouldn’t rest before arriving at the court. you know your words sound funny, painting you as if the result of today’s match depends on you. it feels crazy to be this excited about a mere basketball match, nonetheless you know it’s not the match you’re actually looking forward to. “besides, i’m more worried about seats,”

“i asked hao to save two for us. he’s friends with heeseung, i think he will do that much for his friend’s girlfriend or whatsoever,” you see him roll his eyes at his own words, proceeding to slide his hands into yours before continuing on your way to the venue, this time a little slower.

you have heard about hao from hanbin and miyeon a few times. he’s pursuing a masters in music, wants to teach violin professionally according to hanbin. miyeon has even attended one of his recitals last autumn, something from sibelius, if you remember correctly. he is popular, and you see the depths of his popularity as soon as you spot him on the bleachers, surrounded by people left and right, one of them trying to grab a seat next to him before he points at you and hanbin, and the crowd goes mild, ultimately dissolves as the players step in.

“i didn’t know heeseung had a girlfriend,” you don’t know what you were expecting, perhaps a few words of greetings, hi’s and hello’s since you two are meeting for the first time. anything, except that question.

“believe me, i didn’t either,” and why even is heeseung going around telling everyone that you’re his girlfriend?

the court breaks into cheers as soon as the game commences and yet, it feels a little quite. perhaps, it’s miyeon’s absence getting to you. had it been her next to you instead of hanbin and hao— who are busy amongst themselves by the way, talking about anything but the match— she would’ve been eating snacks non-stop, giving you a little talk on every player, like a resume. it’s take her fifteen minutes to give you summaries on players from each team, their achievements, girlfriends and probably even mothers, who knows. although, you haven’t attend many games with miyeon to pinpoint every good and bad thing about her impromptu presentation, her unofficial commentary helped you sit throughout the match. it feels incomplete without her, not just the game but days in general. it’s definitely her absence making your surroundings feel quieter.

so, long story short, you don’t have a clue of what’s happening. well, you do, a little. you know what a dunk and a three pointer is besides the names of players on your university team, but that basically sums up your knowledge about basketball. all sorts of voices are mingling in the air but you’re busy following the ball around the court with your gaze, occasionally cursing and clapping when the team misses a close basket or scores a comparatively difficult basket. the tension between the two teams keeps rising as the game continues. you notice sunghoon groan in disappointment as one of the players from the opposite team gets in a banked shot from the wings, scoring two points for the team. a part of the crowd goes quieter at jay’s failed attempt to save the score for his team, beomgyu patting on jay’s back while muttering something along the lines of ‘good job.’ involuntarily, your eyes travel to heeseung, whose expression stiffens at the sight of the scoreboard displaying a two-point lag.

a time out call follows as the players move back to their respective ends, and it physically hurts you to see the difference in atmosphere between the two teams, or the frowns on the faces of players on your university team. for a second, you even consider walking down to them as they gather around the coach, grabbing water bottles and towels while nodding at the coach’s words between heavy breaths. you catch jake looking in your direction for a brief second, a smile makes its way to your lips before he responds with one as well, proceeding to nudge heeseung’s arm and pointing in your direction. his actions are left with no response— it hurts a little, although you are aware that anything else falls after winning the match on his priority list— and they get back on the court as the game resumes.

“they need to catch up soon,” hanbin mutters, taking a look at the clock. and even if it’s just a two point difference, you’re starting to understand why it creates a huge gap. it’s almost like scores on a test. going from eighty-three to ninety then hundred is easier than going from ninety-eight to hundred. greater differences are easier to overcome; for you have so many rooms for improvisation and thus, so many chances at closing the gap. the closer you are to a perfect score, the narrower are the chances and it’s almost impossible to pin-point and work on every single weakness of yours within those two points. you’re pretty sure your words would hardly make sense to anyone else, but nonetheless you understand why everyone on the court looks more attentive, probably like meerkats on the lookout for preys and predators.

much to your disappointment, the play continues with the rivals dominating the court, giving low to zero chances for the opposition to get their hands on the balls. you even see a few of them trying to provoke heeseung, the latter trying his best to not react but you’re afraid he would start throwing punches if another one of the players passed by him with his middle finger up heeseung’s face. one of them, who you assume is the captain judging from the way he has been directing his team, goes in for a hook, immediately getting blocked by taehyun as the court bursts into loud cheers once again.

“that was a little too far for a hook,” hao comments, and you nod as if you understand his words and know exactly how a hook is supposed to be. you didn’t even know about a hook until now, and you’re still not sure what it is since all the shots look almost the same to you.

from that second onwards, it felt as if the control transferred to heeseung’s teams as they transition quickly from defence to offence, making quick passes and running the court, practically catching the opposite team off guard. jay passes the ball to jake, who takes a leap from half court, driving towards the unguarded basket. a quick layup using the backboard, as you hear hanbin name the shot, and basically everyone runs to jake for scoring two points for the team as the scoreboards displays a sour tie. it’s a seemingly easy match after that, especially when the players look like they’re back into the game. sunghoon passes the ball to heeseung who goes for another layup and fails, much to his despair, before going in for a dunk and scoring yet another basket for the team, leading it by two points. you see him passing a cocky smirk at the player from before as jake pats him in the back with heeseung almost stumbling in the process.

heeseung shoots you a wink before focusing on sunghoon’s words as they get back into position, and even amidst the butterflies you got by his recent actions, you don’t miss the way he stretches his fingers, ring-finger specifically, pointing something about the movements to jay before getting his focus back to the game; and you just hope it isn’t what you’re thinking it is.

it’s a slow game after that, no points scored, four fouls with two of them back to back, one by each team respectively. the frustration increases on the court, evident in each step taken by the players, groans and sighs fill the atmosphere and get louder than the cheers that have gone quieter once again. it isn’t until a few minutes later that all the players run to the front court as soon as they see an opportunity for a fast break with taehyun taking the lead, passing the ball to jay just a few seconds after, who passes it to heeseung— and call it the lack of efficiency or bad timing, heeseung bumps into one of the players from opposite team, an uneven balance, and falls directly on his right knee, as one of the opposite players throws the ball off-bounds to stop the play.

the medics take him to the benches, bringing ice packs and everything else before escorting him inside. you considered following him inside before hanbin tells you that the officials aren’t letting anyone meet him, probably until they receive updates of his situations. you bite the inside of your cheeks in nervousness, palms sweating as if you’re about to appear for an exam you weren’t informed about until five minutes ago, or maybe it’s even worse. the murmurs from the crowd or the group of girls behind you, to be more specific, do nothing but make you feel more anxious. zhang hao, being a sports medicine student, tries to give you an insight on heeseung’s injury, telling you that even if he fell directly on his knee and it could result in a patella fracture, or perhaps just dislocation— words that compel you to yell at him to shut up before he ensures that heeseung will be fine. hanbin does that for you, noticing your slightly panicked state, telling hao to talk about anything but anatomy of how badly a simple injury can affect a player, and when sunghoon and taehyun return to the officials with an update on heeseung and a pale face, you knew you had to run to your heeseung as if it’s the end of the world.

“heeseung,” you breathe out, stepping aside to let the nurse from the infirmary leave before you walk closer to him. the awkwardness between you and other players, namely jay, jake and beomgyu, besides the coach, rings all the bells to remind you that coming here was probably a bad idea. well, of course, you like heeseung and are worried for him, but the tension in the air makes you feel like you showed up uninvited. “are you okay?”

you ask nonetheless, voice close to a whisper, as you stand at a distance, looking at the bruise on his knee. the smell of antiseptic spray fills your lungs, nose scrunching at the way you could almost taste the diclofenac at the back of your mouth.

“not really,” he inhales sharply, exhaling a reply once everyone left, knowing they had a game to get back to. “look at you, are you worried for me?”

“i’m regretting coming here now,” liar. and then you let the silence carry the conversation with itself for the next few minutes. you don’t know what to say— what can you say? all you do is sit next to him, hands brushing against his as his winces at the slightest touch. heeseung opened his mouth to say something before dismissing his words with a heavy sigh the very next moment. you almost hold his hand— almost, thinking of holding it ever so carefully as if it’s glass with thousands of cracks, and then you’d kiss it ever so delicately, you did it— almost, but then, it’s just you getting upset over the fact that he played even after hurting his hand.

“so, they’re benching you,” you say in an attempt to strike a conversation, a little conflicted with your choice of words, wondering if he even wants to hear about something related to the match at the moment.

“of course,” he says it like a matter of fact, a fact whose impact doesn’t seem to touch him. “please tell me they have jeno substituting for me. i’ve barely been getting updates in the group chat,” the least he expected was for one of the substitute players to keep him updated about the game through texts, and heeseung planned to get back to the court until you showed up, taking a seat next to him on the benches in the locker room. you don’t understand why they didn’t take him to the infirmary, and decided to think it’s because locker rooms are closer and if there’s anything heeseung should not be doing right now, it’s moving his injured leg.

you shrug. “i don’t know, i’ll ask hanbin,”

“thanks,” and even though heeseung isn’t really fond of your friend for reasons that are widely known, at least amidst his friend group, he really hopes hanbin is of some use.

it’s quiet now. you can hear faint cheers buried in the layers of walls and rooms that stand between the court and the locker room, a few muffled footsteps filling up any spaces left in the air, here and there. you assume it’s his fans trying to check up on him, as annoying as it sounds to you for you’d rather have this moment with him all to yourself. you hear him sigh heavily once every few minutes, trying to ball his injured fingers up in a fist to allow the slightest of moments and ensure healthy circulation, a soft hiss leaving his lips at the sensation of striking pain shooting up his nerves. unlike heeseung, your attention shifts to his injured knee with a faint chill running down your spine as you look at his bruise, which now looks more bluish than it was when you had arrived, signifying the possibly alarming amount of blood that has now clotted in the tissues.

“you can cry,” nudge him with your shoulders and heeseung directs you to the most disgusted face in return. “what? it’s the finals and you’re injured so you won’t be able to play today. any normal person would sob their eyes out,”

“i’m not a kid, yn,” he nudges back, a chuckle slipping off his lips.

“trying to act all cool but you’re probably going to cry yourself to sleep for days, or even weeks,” he holds out his hand for you to hold it as you stand up, an action you give into without opposition, intertwining your fingers with his. there’s a smug smile on your face and he sees it as well, although only you know the way your heart is somersaulting at the way your hands fit his’ like pieces of a puzzle. “i know what you are, heeseung,”

he scoffs at your words, hands still entwined, a lovesick glow in his eyes— it’s your first time seeing this side of him, you’re glad to be one of the people to see it. silence has never felt so comfortable to you. the distant noise from court feels like it rushed on its way to you and heeseung, and stopped at the doors, as if you two are beyond its reach. you might never say it to him, but everything seemingly ceases to exist when you’re with him, and the world feels timeless. it’s embarrassing, cringe, and it’s making your heart beat faster with the way he looks at you. “you need to shut up,”

“make me?” a quick response, one that was supposed to be a joke, a joke which was supposed to be accompanied by laughter and brushed off as another baseless comment, but another second passes as you continue to look into his eyes, and you realise you’re actually considering it— leaning in towards him while giving his hand a light tug to pull him towards you the slightest, your other hand cupping his face as your gaze ghosts up his eyes and settles on his lips. when it comes to him, rationality is out of the window and your lips are on his’ planting the softest kiss at the corner of his mouth before pulling away like nothing ever happened.

a pause; you could hear the silence ringing in your years, eyes fixed over him as if you’re spilling all your secrets to him, waiting for him to take a hint. “what even happened to the ‘no kissing before finals’ rule?’”

and you realise you had actually forgotten about it, for better and never for the worse, because as you said and as he repeated, it’s all about timing. empty locker rooms, quiet hallways with not a soul around, your hand in his, his eyes on you— the timing couldn’t be better, and you know better than messing up and letting heeseung become just a closed chapter of your life. “yeah, i could care less about that,”

there are a lot of things you could care less about, like the cold metal that stings against your back as he pushes you against the lockers, or the fact that anyone could walk in, any minute; you don’t care, don’t know. his lips are on yours and his hands are on your waist, it feels euphoric the way his lips move in synchrony with yours, fitting like puzzle pieces. heeseung tugs you closer by your waist, a faint gasp escaping your mouth that dissolves immediately into your breaths mingling together. it’s intoxicating and is making you go insane, the way he manages to sweep you off your feet with the smallest of actions and simplest of words— from the very first day.

heeseung was right, and you as well, it’s all about timing. from the day you first looked at him in a seminar, to the day he switched to biotech— you plan on asking him why because so far, all your guesses seem implausible— down to the day he confessed, leading up to this moment with you pressing against the lockers and his lips against against yours. heeseung sighs softly, cupping your cheeks and tilting your head to deepen the kiss, and you could feel the heat of his breath against your lips when you pull away just when it was about to get better, avoiding his lips when he leans in to chase yours barely a millisecond later. your eyes shift down to his hand, one that has been injured during the game, and you proceed to hold it carefully, brushing your lips over the bruise lightly before adorning it with feathery kisses as his other hand travels down to your waist once again, pulling you closer. “you should go easy on yourself,”

you whisper the exact same words he had told you a day ago, traversing your eyes back towards him while your gazes have a conversation so foreign, as if it’s only for the silence to understand. and it’s quite literally just the two of you basking in silence as he rests his head against the crook of your neck, planting a few kisses here and there before pulling you even closer, as if you were going to disappear any second. “i think, i’m in love with you,”

and timing be damned— because heeseung confesses to you once again, and then he’s kissing you once again, slowly, sweetly, in love, and timing doesn’t even matter because every second feels right with him. with the same air of delighted indifference he comes to know well in the gleam of your touch and the curl of your lips, you simply kiss him back as if to say, hate to admit, but i’m in love with you too. and timing really be damned because you hear loud rounds of cheers as you feel his shoulders stiffen. a slight disconnection between you and heeseung makes you wonder if he’s thinking about the results of the game, which is inevitable, but this is about you and him, and nothing else. you hear the notifications from his phone go off, hinting that the match is probably over, and you pull him into another kiss, another round of selfishness guised as an outlet for him to forget about the game, another round of messy make outs, tasting the freedom of ignorance.

and then you don’t hear from heeseung again.

V. OBJECT OF ALL DESIRES

days without heeseung feel like they’re forty-eight hours long.

you think it’s a disease or some sort of withdrawal syndrome. this isn’t your first time without him, in fact, you used to do just fine without him in your life until you let him in. at this point, it isn’t even about not being able to see him— heeseung has been absent for almost seven days. you even asked jay about him to see if he has been in contact with any of his teammates but much to your disappointment, he disappeared off the face of earth like he never existed. taehyun has constantly been reminding you to not fret too much, knowing that heeseung gets a little dramatic after losing matches. you can take his word, obviously, a friend from highschool would know heeseung better than a girl who started talking to him normally barely weeks ago, although you couldn’t help but worry about him as seconds passed like water dripping down the tap, disturbing the silence.

you know how losses feel— like a part of you has been taken out and you’re left to bleed. it’s worse when it’s about something you’ve loved all your life. you’ve walked next to losses, hand in hand. when you know you’ve lost something while having it in the palms of your hands the whole time, the feeling eats you inside. you wonder if heeseung is feeling the same way you think he is, even if he didn’t show it a week ago when you had met him in the clubroom, the feeling starts to sink in when you’re alone amidst the ghosts of nobodies. even though he was smiling and acting like the little shit he is, you felt anger and regret in the way he kissed you. there was a sense of numbness dripping down his fingertips in the way they brushed against your cheeks, cupping your face. you could’ve been a sweet escape— it hurts to admit that the emotions weren’t possibly real, but you couldn’t blame him.

losing a match, to put it in your words, meant failing in a test; and losing because of an injury, it’s like skipping a test you prepared for, because of fever. except tests can be rescheduled for students who missed— a luxury heeseung, as a basketball player, cannot enjoy. even you couldn’t believe your eyes when the students on the forum started talking about the lost match, all sorts of comments going around, though none targeted at heeseung, fortunately. yet, your first instinct was to dial his number— out of reach, the first thing you hear on the other side of the line, and all you’ve been hearing for days now.

you had considered cutting ties with him, not literally, but as in stopping to chase him as if he’s the oxygen you inspire. you could’ve showed up at miyeon’s place with apologies, her favourite snacks and a brief explanation of why you did what you did, and everything that has happened as the consequences of your own actions. with weekends approaching, you could’ve planned a two-day trip with her and hanbin before the winter snow made it hard to commute— just anything to get your mind off heeseung, since apparently, you weren’t on his mind either. albeit, you end up doing nothing, no trips, no plans to see miyeon, it’s just you and your bruised heart with soju on the side. your mind is way too cluttered with thoughts about heeseung to focus on studying and at the same time, it’s way too empty to try doing anything else.

so, you simply venture down the hallways, drowning in all kinds of thoughts, good and bad. you can use the time to study but concentration has been far out of your reach ever since the match, or ever since he went underground, to be more specific. the impromptu make out session was probably his last straw— it makes sense. you kissed someone who had been walked out of a match because of an injury instead of consoling them. you let your feelings get the best of you, making everything about yourself yet again. you won’t be surprised if heeseung decides to ghost you for the rest of his life after that; or maybe, that’s not possible since you see a familiar figure sitting in the outdoor basketball court, spinning the ball with it’s axis on the ground in a directionless manner.

“heeseung?” you notice his back tense at the sound of you calling his name, head down low as if he’s responding with an exasperated sigh. “where the hell have you been? i’ve been trying to reach you— heck, even your friends haven’t heard a word from you in days,”

“not now, yn, leave me alone,” and an exasperated sigh is what it was.

“look, i know—”

“just, what part of leaving me alone do you not understand?” you try to speak but heeseung cuts you off just as efficiently as he does other things, with annoyance heavily evident in his words. had it not been heeseung, you would’ve left already, for you have more important things to tend to, and you’re certainly not interested in matters you’re not supposed to be included in, if only it wasn’t heeseung, and if only you weren’t crazily worried for him.

“oh, i understand it clearly, every part, actually, and i also understand that you’re upset and leaving you alone would certainly not be the best move considering the way you went MIA for a week,” and you understand his impulses about disappearing into thin air, wishing the ground eats him up or for the walls to cave in till he’s entombed in them, but a person as smart as him should know taking out helps better than thinking about wanting to vanish. “we can sit and have a talk if you stop being such an asshole about it. i’m down to listen to—”

“fine, what do you want to hear about?” he cuts you off in annoyances, the ball rolls down to a distance like your heart when you see the unfamiliar emotion in his eyes. “you were right. i went home and have been crying myself to sleep. i haven’t been eating well either. i skipped five out of nine mocks and barely passed the four i gave, let’s add that too. is that enough?”

you don’t like the way he puts it, as if it’s supposed to make you feel better. maybe about the bet, maybe, since he’s supposed to rank above you in finals to get around dating you, and maybe watching him lose is supposed to offer you some sort of relief— seriously, what you’re feeling right now is far from that. guilt, anger, shame, you’re not unfamiliar with those emotions. they eat you inside and it’s not because you’ve met with defeat, it’s because of falling off all the expectations people had, giving them another reason to point fingers and laugh. you could be really over-reacting, but if you didn’t have your parents telling you it’s going to be fine every time you didn’t do well on tests, you don’t know where you would’ve been right now. and you think you can play a part of the same for heeseung, if not all.

you sit next to him, nose scrunching at the sight of dust on the cement laid with cracks. that’s what you get with an outdoor court no longer in use. you can see little plantlets germinating from the soil, emerging through the cracks, the rusted ring catches your eye. heeseung huffs as you settle next to him, wondering exactly how long the court has been unused for, considering its lack of maintenance. “let’s date,”

and your words are not what you were planning to say or what should be said in this situation, but they still manage to extract a response from him. “don’t play with me,”

“i’m not, in fact, that is what i’ve been wanting to say to you for days. of course, this isn’t the best timing, but i don’t know what else to say,” you pause in what feels like embarrassment. too bad, his crush is not good at conversations. sometimes you end up nodding and blinking for five minutes straight before saying anything, after a person opens up to you with tears and blood. “and, i’m not going to tell you to stop acting like a child or whatever because the team lost such an important match and somewhere, you’re blaming yourself for it, which you shouldn’t, by the way. all i need to say is that you still have the next year to make up for what you’ve lost now,”

second chances come with higher expectations from people along with words that end up making one feel worse about their situation. you’ve already heard a few students talk about how heeseung should’ve been more ‘careful’— as if it was his choice to get injured and lose the match. you know it wasn’t going to be easy, especially with his injury that probably requires him out of the court for weeks, but you hope that amidst whatever he’s feeling, between self-loath and regret, heeseung manages to find himself once again.

“actually, i’m planning to drop out of the team next year and focus on studies. my parents were already against me playing basketball during postgrad, i’m finally starting to notice why,” basketball could’ve been his entire career if heeseung’s grandmother had not wished for him to go into the medical field. seeing the insides of a person makes him want to empty his bowel from the mouth so biotechnology was his next option. heeseung thought having two hands would give him the benefit of managing basketball and academics together, unlike how his parents had wished for, but his recent mock scores and lack of time devoted to studies is making him question his choices. “and what the hell were you on about dating, by the way?”

you’re half immersed in your own thoughts until heeseung directs the question at you— brows furrowed, confusion shadowing his face— you realise it’s your turn to do the talking. “oh, you know, dating. i think we should start dating already, it’s quite inevitable after that day in the clubroom,”

it is evitable, really, but you’re down bad— with all due respect.

you haven’t been okay ever since you realised that you like heeseung, and you’ve been trying to act normal about it, attempting to not lose your cool-hard-to-get-girl composure— miyeon’s words, and they make you cringe— while the thought of him is eating your brain slowly and gradually, making you go insane. if you were to narrate from where you opened and closed the door at, it would be a slippery slope, you don’t know how someone ends up falling for the person they despise. the yn from a month or two ago would be knowing, you can see her shrugging and getting back to her books, saying see saw it coming. ( it’s miyeon’s fault for making you even think about having a mind blowing chemistry with heeseung ) the you from two semesters ago, when he first transferred, would hate you and call you a traitor, might even write whore on a mirror while looking at it because you fold at the sight of hot, smart and sporty men who are perfect at everything, even at ruining someone’s life, like he’s ruining yours; and the yn from highschool, you see her squealing on the floor because oh, what a fan of enemies to lovers she was— heeseung wouldn’t even have been in the current picture if your highschool crush slash rival liked you back. the current you, well, she’s a goner, and in denial that she’s a goner. too much pride does something to a person, especially when you’re an over-scorer and an academic weapon. you’ve lost all your abilities of letting your guard down even once, refusing to give up and accept defeat, no matter how tortuous it is on the inside.

the current you is more like a victorian man looking at ankles for the very first time.

“and the bet? what happened to it?” he chuckles, of course, anyone would, considering the way you’ve lost after placing the bet with utmost confidence slash overconfidence. see, it never ends well, anything, with overconfidence, it doesn’t end well, never have and never will. and you, you don’t learn, sitting with the very well known fact that if you were given the chance, you would place the bet with him again.

“ah, i didn’t mean to do that, honestly. i was confused when you confessed, it was so sudden, i didn’t know how to respond. the bet was the best i could come up with,” miyeon was right, you could’ve used something along the lines of ‘i need some time,’ that day instead of pulling out a bet right out of your ass, and now you don’t know how to save face. at least the fact that heeseung confessed first makes you feel a little better about yourself. “c’mon, i know you love challenges. i was just trying to see if it gets you turned on or something,”

and heeseung scoffs in disbelief, eyeing you at your choice of words. “yeah, i feel very turned on knowing my crush dragged me into a bet that i’ve been working so hard for and she wasn’t even serious about it,”

“working hard? from what i saw, the only thing you worked hard for was basketball,” you raise your brows, a taunting intonation in your voice. a part of you regrets the choice of words, knowing that basketball is seemingly quite a sensitive topic to bring up at the moment. albeit, the slight fear evaporates off when he laughs and dismisses your words and nothings.

he leans a little closer, hands touching yours. “you never know what i’m up to at home,”

a pause; you look in his eyes and then at his lips, he mirrors your actions with a smirk on his face. you guess that there’s a second meaning to his words, not sure what, but the look in his eyes tells you something about it. “i think we should get back to when you were talking mental and i was talking you down,”

and you could grab his face and kiss him with no one around, on the unmaintained basketball court for the grey and cloudy skies to see. you could run your hands through his hairs and tell him how crazy he makes you while planting kisses down his neck. you can kiss him till both of your lungs are begging for oxygen, and that's when you'd tell him how he makes you feel— breathless and drowning, a little insane every time you see him flirting with someone that's not you. you can kiss him till the sun goes down and evening takes over, it doesn't matter if you're outside for the world to see. you would've kissed him if heeseung hadn't leaned back, looking at the ball lying stray at a distance.

“by the way, i’d love to date you,” he smiles at the infinite horizon before looking at you, as if waiting for a response already known.

“yeah, i figured that,” you try to play it cool as if you’re all knowing. it’s partially true, he did confess to you first. “let’s make another bet: no kissing before finals, and the one who ends up giving in first has to buy dinner,” you come up with yet another bet, your voice hinting the enthusiasm for no apparent reason.

heeseung squints at you, a little conflicted, quite unsure of your words. it sounds like a moment of deja vu, hopefully on a better note this time ‘round. “that’s not even valid, we made out not even a week ago,”

“let bygones be bygones, hee,” he likes the sound of the little nickname you've given him, unlike bygones, the word you use to refer to your very first kiss with him as if it's an unfortunate memory. “it’s decided then, no kissing before finals and the loser has to buy dinner, and i won’t be satisfied with anything less than a five star meal,”

you squint, index finger pointing at him, a challenging composure. another chuckle from him makes it’s way to you, lips curling into a faint smile. it takes you all the way back to the day you placed your first bet with him, with head empty and no logic, for the entirety of the basketball team to see, hear, and talk about it as if it’s supposed to be on the headlines of the national newspaper. your eyes spark up in anticipation, wondering if the two of you are down for another bet, one that doesn’t proceed towards failure, hopefully.

“the last time you did something like this, you ended up running back to me and asking me to date you,” he scoffs softly, side-eyeing you with a mocking gaze, quite ready to pull out the receipts if you ever deny his words. you hate how correct he is, all the time, actually, and you hate how you don’t have words to argue back.

lee heeseung, a nobody to you till he switched to your department, just some student who was there to pass time until he started ranking above you on tests and flipped your whole world upside down. you tried to not think about him and failed every time— still beats you why. you’ve never let distractions get the best of you, but heeseung, perhaps he’s more than just a distraction, or maybe he isn’t a distraction at all. he’s like a plant in your garden that you could care less about— should care less about, it’s growing without harming your plants, but it’s creeping against a wall with pretty flowers for show, and before you know it, it’s demanding for all your attention that you offer without second thoughts, unwillingly at first.

he’s the bane of your existence and object of all your desires, to put it simply and make it sound cliché. you’ve had your moments trying to run away from him, get him out of your head, annoy him to the point he’d prefer flying to the other side of the globe, or that could be you too, anywhere, far from him. but life, for the thousandth time, is unpredictable. when was the last time something worked out exactly how you had planned— can’t remember, obviously, just like the way you don’t remember when heeseung started occupying a corner of your brain, popping in and out at random times and disrupting your thought process. the more you tried to ignore him, the further he housed in your head, the deeper in your heart, closer, within your reach, as if for you to grab his hands and let him enter your side of the world.

and so, you kiss him again, pulling him towards you with the collars of his jacket. you feel him smile, a triumphant smile, as expected from someone who is used to winning. you don't think you can say you've lost, not at the way he cups your cheeks and tilts his head to deepen the kiss just moments before you pull away. “i always run back to you, don’t i?”

and you're a child infatuated with their favourite sport, a painter falling in love with strokes, a pianist dancing to the melody of rachmaninoff, a student addicted to getting a perfect score, a player addicted to winning. you trace back to things you like, you always run back to heeseung,

and you always would.

TEN MINUTES LATER :

heeseung plants a soft peck on your lips. “dinner’s on you,”

“fuck!”

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odileeclipse · 2 months ago

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genuine question, with ur Sage of Truth x reader series, how do u come up with the stuff about magic study

..ok im bad at explaining but like u know the like magic terminology, the formulas, stuff like that relating to the magic stuff the reader is studying. Is coming up for that stuff hard? Did u base it off other stuff? I just think it's really impressive

Also, another mini question, how do you go about writing the Sage of Truth? His character is very interesting, and the way he speaks is very poetic and wise and stuff. It must be really interesting to write.

But yeah. Loved ur part 4 for the series i get go giddy and happy when I read every new part cause it's just so goodd!!

Hope ur doing well mootie and getting good sleep 💞

This post is going to be a little messy because I'm just going to word dump rq since I don't know how to explain it without rambling on so my apologies mootie <3

Okay so a majority of this is based off of chemical reactions I replace everything with magical words! like balancing magic is based on like the stabilization of chemical reactions and some of it based off of Grignard's reagents reactions how things need to be completely dry (in our case our will cause it's magic) or it's highly reactive and violent. Some things are philosophical and yes, it's actually a lot harder than it sounds because even I don't have a full grasp on everything I speak on, but since it's magical it gives me more creative freedom to make it seem like something else... I don't know if it makes sense but for example, the reason the professor says it's a philosophical approach is because I based it off of a philosophical thing I learned about reason, it basically states that reason alone can't make you do things and that only another emotion can overrule another and that reason doesn't know about emotions. So in this case reason would be magic, but the philosophical question is, "Can you make a choice based off of reason alone?" Of course I think not which is why I think it's only natural that in order to have strong magic you need to be mentally and emotionally strong in our case have strong will. But something that helps me is like brainstorming reactions beforehand, like I couldn't pinpoint exactly what I'm deriving from because I write them down as I get into this sort of flow state. But it's just based off of my knowledge of general+organic chemistry. Which is why if you go back a lot of it is about reactions. And alchemy and astronomy but those are my biggest influences.

This may be a very disappointing answer guys but it's hard for me to answer because it's not like I come with it on the spot it takes me like a while...it's not so much the writing part because I'm a pretty fast typer (I think) my wpm is 77 so it's not super slow but not super fast but that's around 4k words per hour (assuming no distractions) and my fics for this are like 4-7k words so the writing part itself is not the time-consuming part it's thinking about how I might apply chemistry.

Coming up with magic terminology, formulas, and theories is one of my favorite parts of worldbuilding. It can be tricky, but it's super fun once I get into a flow. I usually base it on a mix of real-world concepts (like alchemy, astronomy, linguistics, and physics) and existing fantasy magic systems, but then I tweak it to fit the vibe of Blueberry Yogurt Academy. For example, if I were to create a spell for, say, astral projection, I'd probably think about how ancient scholars might have viewed the soul leaving the body. I might mix in terms from dream theory, old star charts, or even quantum entanglement to make it feel like something a scholar at the Academy would study. But again a lot of it is made up so any magic or anything that coincides with "real" magic is purely coincidental. I really just try and mix words that fit together of course I do have to do my own research and stuff but most of it is just made up magical things based on things I've learned things about.

As I'm writing this I remember I wrote something it's when I was brainstorming on my google doc which I'll just paste here I think it's a lot more clear sort of? But basically this is sort of the bare bones of it and then as I'm writing I embellish to make it legit of course I do have to go on wikipedia to search for "magical terms"

Theoretical Magic & The Law of Truth

Magic in this setting is deeply tied to knowledge, logic, and perception it requires both understanding and precise execution.

The Law of Truth will be a governing principle, suggesting that magic operates based on absolute truths rather than subjective beliefs. If something is factually incorrect, the spell structure collapses.

This makes magic an academic pursuit, requiring scholars to study universal truths, paradoxes, and logical structures to correctly wield it.

The Structure of Spells

Magic isn’t just about reciting incantations it follows a formulaic, almost mathematical structure.

Spells are constructed like arguments or equations, with components that must be balanced:

Premise (Concept/Intent): The foundation of the spell; must be logically sound.

Catalyst (Energy/Source): What fuels the spell, possibly drawn from the caster’s understanding or external forces.

Expression (Manifestation): The way the spell takes form, shaped by the precision of the caster’s execution.

This is why (y/N) will struggle they might understand the premise but fail at the execution, or vice versa.

The Use of Glyphs & Magical Notation

Spells can be written using glyphs, sigils, or a special notation system that encodes magical principles.

It’s possible that magic is recorded in a language that must be understood logically rather than memorized, making it extra difficult for beginners.

The reader has difficulty with this aspect, which is why they might struggle with practical application.

The Sage of Truth’s Role & Perspective

The Sage is a master of this magic system, likely because they grasp universal truths without bias. Their magic is precise because their understanding is flawless.

They probably teach by guiding the mc to see things objectively, rather than just drilling formulas into their head.

The Reader’s Weakness & Potential Strength

At the beginning, they struggle because they approach magic like a school subject rather than a fundamental truth of existence.

However, their struggle will make it known that they have the capacity for deep insight; they just need to learn how to see rather than just study.

There’s potential for them to develop a unique style of magic later, possibly blending intuition with logic.

And now for my favorite part the sage of truth, so I looked at all of his voice lines thanks to the wiki <3 and I based it off of that and I tried to come up with a persona I think he would embody. He is very different from Shadow Milk Cookie which is super apparent in the KR dub because his voice is so much gentler and kinder and his whole persona to me says he is a kind studious person who wants to see people succeed. He wants to spread knowledge and to me, that seems really philosophical and something I've noticed from philosophical scholars is how poetic they are in how they speak. One of my favorite philosophers even before learning about him in the academic sense is Bentham the way he words things is so interesting to me however I do think it is morbid he wanted his body to be preserved in the classroom because he thought it would bring his students motivation. But I digress.

He doesn't waste words because everything he says has purpose and truth woven into it. It's why when the reader pries into hearing more about him it sort of throws him off a little bit. His speech is more "elongated" slower? because he doesn't rush as I think he believes that truth doesn't falter or hurry and example of something I would write for a different character vs him would be like.

Instead of saying "You're struggling because you don't understand the fundamentals," he’d say: "You attempt to sculpt from air and wonder why the form does not hold. Foundation must precede creation, lest you craft only illusions."

The only reason I can do this somewhat is because I used to love writing poems...I have a lot of bad poems though...

But to me it seems that he perceives truth in all of things which makes him really eerily perceptive, and since he has a lot of experience under his belt (he is a renowned scholar) he can see the mc struggle before they voice them but it's also partially because the mc gives it away with their facial expressions which often time are more telling than anything they say. He also guides rather than command pushing the reader to understand instead of handing solutions he nudges them towards revelations. I think he also plays into his persona a bit where he doesn't mix emotions and studies perhaps with his most dearest friends right? but not with someone he's supposed to be guiding I won't say more on this as I have a lot of ideas for how I will develop their relationship. He also isn't cruel and understands frustration is an essential and fundamental part of learning.

But the thing is he does see potential in you as the reader... Hopefully this answers your question...

As you can see I put a LOT of thought into this fanfic and into this response but ever since I made that poll I had an inkling about who was going to win based off of the first day so that's when I began brainstorming.

This is sort of the process for all of this however I just want to note that it is difficult and sometimes I just rely on my own intuition even if it's wrong and then i go back and read if it's really bothering me I just change the whole paragraph and scrap the previous writing I think that's the beauty of writing being able to revise and allowing yourself to part from previous work. however, if I really like it I'll just keep it somewhere to the side.

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imustbenuts · 8 months ago

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nuts reading trigun in japanese 5 - vash is. super good with kids

disclaimer: more triangulation purposes etc etc

so i mentioned before in my part 3 that the japanese language has an inbuilt hierarchy quirk to it. and i kind of noticed this nuance getting somewhat lost in the english translation, either because again i have skill issues with english, or that EN inherently doesnt come with the same quirk.

elaborating a bit more: this hierarchy of position/standing can be determined by age, profession, occupation, and experience. in terms of hard priority, age and profession tends to take precedence over everything else.

this means effectively, vash being over 150 should be top dog and given respect in JP/Asian context (respect your elders! or else!!), but because he 1) looks 24, 2) uses very immature speech with strangers, 3) uses boku, hes effectively keeping his head down and posing as a dumbass schmuck.

ヴァッシュの兄貴　行っちまうのか！？ Big bro Vash, you're leaving?! (兄貴 = aniki = big bro but informal and can be used for no blood relations)

so schmucky that he has no problems handling children. in fact, in the JP version during his departure on the sand steamer, the kids call him Big Bro Vash. twice! so he's earned their adoration in no time flat.

ヴァッシュの兄貴—ッ Big Bro Vash!!

leaving the translation like that ^ wouldnt flow well in english, so rip. also. cute scene.

and yet his meeting with Kaite is chaotically bad to say the least. i mean, he even gets drugged and knocked out. Kaite does not respect the guy who gave him food at all and plans to seemingly feed him 3 meals a day for the entire trip. so how? well.

once Brilliant Dynamites Neon comes in and turns things serious, Vash's starts doing a few interesting things.

skipping forward this and that. after getting almost blown off the sand steamer, vash holds onto kaite and they both cling on for dear life:

もうちょっと登れば通風口があるよ mou chotto noboreba tsuufucou ga aru yo If we can climb a little higher there's a ventilation duct そーか　そーか　今行こうすぐ行こう souka souka ima ikou sugu ikou Okay, okay, let's get going right now!

added romanji and color to highlight how vash is repeating phrases in his line. the そーか　そーか souka souka and 行こう行こう ikou ikou repeats are there as if to 1) make himself sound immature, and 2) to reassure kaite that things are under control.

only touching on the bottom right panel. another possible reading of that line:

助けて頂いてありがとうございましただろう Situations like these are where you should say "thank you very much for saving my life" instead!

はいそーでした!!!

Now say it!!!

he's chiding kaite and doing the very asian adult thing of teaching the youngin manners in terms of tone. but in a stern funny way no offense taken way bc, as you might have noticed...

vash is deliberately putting himself on the same level as a kid. in tone in standing in speech. hes not being condescending. hes not lording his status as an adult over a child. (something something christ like but in the context of jp... hehe.)

this is ultimately what gets tough nut kaite to trust vash to get down to business to defeat The Neon. even without the words hes visually getting himself to be on the same (eye) level with kaite. i think its so good alsdjfdsa

kaite starts crying after thinking of his dad and regretting what he's done, gets caught in a regret reflection loop, but vash brings him back to reality. like this:

なにを感傷にひたってるかなこいつは

another reading of this "What the hell are getting all sentimental for now ya brat?!" line might be "What. Good. Is. It. To. Lose. Your. Grip. On. Yourself. Now. You. Dummy?!"

with this he puts kaite's head back into reality and readjusts both their priority.

so again. vash just. is good with kids. his emotional intelligence is through the fucking roof as proven by all the other moments throughout tristamp and trimax*

idk its warms me bc. the asian confucius hierarchy is so... yuck. im technically of chinese descent so i know how fucked it is. so. vash is really cool with this slightly extra japanese asian hierarchy context.

i think this aspect of vash is something i dont see in english fanworks a lot, and not in the same tone. on the other hand, i do see this a lot in the jp fanworks. so idk exactly what factors or if im looking in the wrong places, but yeah. vash is good with kids. just like wolfwood.

again, studio orange understood the assignment and gave some of that dynamic here to Tonnis.

are they called studio orange bc im meant to squeeze stampede for all its worth or what. stampede is actually incredible to me im in awe.

bonus:

the jp version of the left text says roughly:

"I'm cursed!! I must be! By either the reaper or a god of misfortune and or more!!"

yeah he specifically says Shinigami and Binbougami. i dont think that would translate well in en bc this kinda throws the catholicsm theme into a bit of a tailspin LMAO. (also. the Ore here. note the context.)

#trigun #trigun stampede #trigunbookclub #trigun meta

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dontyouworrydaddy · 2 years ago

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Can you please do 141 where the reader and them are talking about there Highschool years and like “I would have dated you in high school “ type thing THEN they see a pic of reader in high school (prom,first day,or any thing for that time) SHES FINE FINE like imagine 90s type vibe, then they remember what they looked like in that same year and they say back “ IM glad u didn’t meet me then cause u would have no interest “ AND SHES STILL FINE FINE where they think it’s a recent photo!

idk know what I’m doing I just got an idea and your my favorite writer so I wanted to let you know!!!!

YOU ARE LOVED!!!!!❤️❤️❤️❤️

thᥱ most bᥱᥲᥙtιfᥙᥣ ᥕomᥲᥒ ιᥒ thᥱ ᥕorᥣd

Task Force 141 + fem! reader

I ABSOLUTELY love this idea!!!! Like as soon as they see your pictures they‘re like "damn. I‘m glad we didn’t meet back then because she would definitely reject me and on top of that probably make fun of me." I‘m sorry but especially with Soap😭 This dude probably had the craziest hair back then (he still has but we love him for it).

Also I‘m so thankful for your kind words🥺🥺 They really mean so much to me and you just lighten up my entire day<33 I wish I could hug you right now☹️ Remember that you’re also always loved by someone and MEEE🫶🏻🫶🏻💘💘

Thank you really so so much 🌸💕💕

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Simon Riley

It was a quiet evening at the your apartment . Simon found himself reminiscing about your high school years. As the conversation flowed, nostalgia filled the air.

"You know, Y/N, if we had met in high school, I would have totally dated you." Simon said with a playful smirk, leaning back against the wall.

You chuckled, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. "Oh, really? And why is that?"

Simon's gaze turned thoughtful as he recalled those distant memories. "Well, you are always confident and stunning. I would have been a nervous wreck around you."

Grinning, you teased, "Are you saying you weren't attractive back then?"

Simon chuckled, running a hand through his dark hair. "Let's just say my teenage years weren't my finest hour. I had an awkward sense of fashion, let’s not talk about my hair... Definitely not the smooth operator you see in front of you today."

Curiosity piqued, you both began reminiscing about those high school days. Simon had a mischievous idea and suggested pulling out old photo albums to see just how different you both were.

Rummaging through the dusty boxes, you stumbled upon a photo of your younger self. It was a picture from prom, in your beautiful dress. You were radiant, your smile lighting up the frame. Simon's eyes widened as he took in the sight.

"Damn, Y/N, you were fine then, and you're still fine now!" he exclaimed, feigning surprise.

You laughed, not realizing his little trick. "Well, thank you, Simon. I try my best."

Simon's expression shifted, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "You know, seeing this picture reminds me of why I'm glad we didn't meet back then. I don't think I would have stood a chance with you. You would've rejected me in a heartbeat."

Your smile softened as you leaned in closer. "Simon, you underestimate yourself. I would have seen the incredible person you were, braces and all. It's the person you are inside that truly matters."

Simon's eyes locked with yours, and a genuine smile graced his face. The air was filled with a sense of camaraderie as you both laughed at the absurdity of it all.

As the evening came to a close, Simon made a decision. He carefully tucked the photo of your younger self into his pocket, a keepsake of a moment he cherished. You remained unaware of this little secret, but somehow, deep down, you felt that this memory would always be a part of your bond.

John MacTavish

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon and John and you were lounging on the couch, flipping through old photo albums. The nostalgic memories flooded your minds as you reminisced about your high school years. The room was filled with laughter and teasing as you playfully pointed out your younger selves in various snapshots.

John looked at a picture of you, radiating confidence in a stunning prom dress. He couldn't help but stare in awe, captivated by your beauty and timeless charm. With a grin, you turned to him and said "You know, John, I would have totally dated you in high school."

John's eyes widened in surprise, his heart skipping a beat at your words. He never expected you to make such a bold statement. "Really?" he asked, a mix of curiosity and disbelief in his voice.

You nodded, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, absolutely. You are the mysterious and brooding type. I was drawn to that kind of intensity back then."

A flicker of doubt crossed John's face as he remembered his own high school years. "I'm glad you didn't meet me then" he said, his voice tinged with self-deprecation. "I had this crazy hair phase, and trust me, you would have immediately rejected me."

You chuckled, playfully swatting his arm. "Come on, John. Show me that picture. I'm sure it couldn't have been that bad."

John hesitated for a moment, then reached for another album. He turned to a page and revealed a photograph of himself, his hair styled in an over-the-top, eccentric manner that seemed to defy gravity. His expression was a mixture of embarrassment and amusement as he looked at his younger self.

You burst into uncontrollable laughter, clutching your stomach. Tears formed at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to compose yourself. John couldn't help but join in, the embarrassment fading as he found joy in sharing this memory with you.

Once the laughter subsided, you looked at him with a smile. "John, you have no idea how much I would have loved to meet that version of you. That hairstyle is absolutely cute!"

John's face softened, his heart swelling with affection for you. "You're incredible, you know that?" he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "Even if I looked like a total goofball, you would still find a way to make me feel special."

You reached out and took his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "That's because I've always seen the amazing person you are, regardless of how you looked or what hairstyle you had."

John leaned in and gently kissed your forehead, his love for you evident in his eyes. "I'm the luckiest man in the world to have you by my side," he whispered and kissed you on the lips.

John Price

You and John sat side by side on the couch, flipping through an old photo album filled with memories from your high school years. The two of you had decided to take a nostalgic trip down memory lane. You couldn't help but smile as you stumbled upon a particular photograph that brought back a flood of memories.

"Oh my gosh, John, look at this!" you exclaimed, pointing to a picture of yourself at the high school prom. You were dressed in a stunning vintage dress.

John's eyes widened as he gazed at the photograph, taking in your breathtaking beauty. "Wow, you were absolutely stunning" he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "If I had known you back then, I would've also been head over heels for you."

A playful grin spread across your face. "Oh, really? So you're saying you would've dated me in high school?"

John chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Well, I probably would've been too intimidated to ask you out. Plus, I had a weird sense of style back then. Trust me, you wouldn't have been interested."

Curiosity piqued, you leaned closer, showing him the photograph of yourself. "Well, let's see if that's true" you challenged him.

John's eyes widened even further as he looked at the picture. "Wait a minute, is this recent? You look exactly the same!"

You burst into laughter, your heart warming at his genuine surprise. "No, John, this is me in high school. That's why I said I would've dated you back then."

He let out a low whistle. "Well, damn. I definitely lucked out then."

You playfully nudged his shoulder. "Come on, John, you can't be that bad. Let me see your high school days."

John reluctantly handed you another photograph from the album, showing his younger self with a mischievous grin. He sported a rather peculiar outfit that seemed to be a mixture of different styles. It was elegant and had a touch of cowboy style, mixed…

You burst into laughter once again, unable to contain yourself. "Oh, John! I can't believe this was your fashion sense back then."

He smirked, looking slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, I had a bit of a weird phase. Trust me, if we had met during those years, I would've been instantly rejected."

You shook your head, still laughing. "Oh, John, you have no idea. Even with that fashion sense, I would've been all over you."

His eyes sparkled with affection as he pulled you into a tight embrace. "Well, I'm glad we met when we did, then. I wouldn't change a thing about how we found each other."

You smiled, savoring the warmth of his embrace. "Me neither, John. We're perfect for each other, weird fashion choices and all."

Kyle Garrick

Kyle and you sat side by side on the couch, surrounded by photo albums from your high school days. You decided to take a trip down memories from back then together. As you flipped through the pages, looking at the good old times, you stumbled upon a photo of yourself from prom night.

"Oh, wow!" You exclaimed, holding up the photo for Kyle to see. "Look at me back then. I can't believe how much has changed."

Kyle's eyes widened as he took in the sight of you in your beautiful prom dress, radiating a timeless beauty. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret as he thought back to his own high school days.

"I would have dated you in high school" you mused, oblivious to the effect the photo had on Kyle. "You're such a great guy, I would have definitely dated you."

A small smile played at the corners of Kyle's lips as he stared at you, captivated by your words. "Thank you love, but believe me, you're better off not having met me back then. I was a total nerd."

You furrowed your brows in confusion. "What are you talking about? I‘m sure you were cute."

Kyle's expression turned pensive as he reached for another photo album and opened it to a picture of himself from the same year as your prom. His hair was a mess, his glasses too big for his face, and his clothes screamed "geek."

"See?" Kyle pointed to his photo, his voice laced with self-deprecating humor. "I was a freak. If we had met in high school, I would've been immediately rejected. You would've never given me a second glance."

Your eyes widened in surprise, and then you burst into laughter, shaking your head. "Baby stop. You look adorable!!"

He blinked, unable to comprehend your words. "Wait, what?"

"I'm serious!" You continued to laugh, your heart swelling with affection for the man beside you. "You're looking at this picture like it's some embarrassing relic, but all I see is the person I fell in love with. Baby Kyle looks so so cute here"

Kyle's gaze softened as he absorbed your words. The weight of his insecurities began to lift, replaced by a newfound confidence in your unwavering love. "I‘m 17 here love… not 6…"

Placing the photo album aside, you leaned in closer to Kyle, intertwining your fingers with his. "High school was just a phase, but what we have now, this incredible relationship, is what matters. I love you, Kyle Garrick, then, now, and always."

Kyle smiled, his heart overflowing with love for you. "I love you too, more than words can express."

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dreadfuldevotee · 24 days ago

Note

do you have any loumand fic recs? you are like the loumand person to me and I am desperate for more stuff to read 😭

Do I??? Can't imagine what would give you the idea that I read loumand. Anyways-

Riptides by platoapproved, marbleflan & fungilicious E, 72.9k

“We’ve been together for 77 years, Daniel. Shall we let the math of that settle before continuing?” Louis and Armand, through the years.

(Mandatory inclusion, if you are unfamilar please extricate from the rock you've been under and go read this fic. Vignettes of Loumand across the years ranging from heartbreakingly sweet to "Im going to claw my eyes out". Plus, fungilicious' accompanying art is like a sweet treat after a chapter has slapped you in the face for several thousand words :))

Deep wounded minded, I wasn't doing anything with it anyway by exsanguinate (transjon) E, 2,3k

Louis in his head. Behind his eye. In his skull. Fingers deep in the orange, splitting the membrane, fingering the juicy flesh. Spread, he says, and Arun’s mind makes room for him.

(Lobotomy Fic. exactly what it says on the tin. this fic makes me nauseous in the most complimentary way. there is regular sex happening here but I'm way more interested in the ice pick.)

To Watch My Love In Peaceful Slumber's Bed by Alley_Skywalker G, 1.3k

In the bleakness of San Francisco, Louis' depression and drug abuse, Armand's exhaustion - a moment of calm and tenderness.

(short n' sweet fluff. My favorite kind of indulgence of moments of tenderness amongst the bleak + sleepy babieees)

Bloodletting by awenswords E, 7k

"Come back to your body, Arun," Louis commands, tugs his hair again, this time hard enough to hurt. He can sense how Armand refocuses. A shudder as teeth scrape bone. Feels like his wrist might snap in his own jaw. Another heartbeat or so and he says, "Okay. Alright - you can stop now." An exploration of Louis and Armand's psychosexual dynamic, and the history Armand has endured.

(One of the first fics I read for this ship and it remains still one of my favorites. I always have to remind myself that Louis buying De Romanus's for Armand to keep other people from having them is actually fanon because its just so perfect, it has to be real. Plus also a healthy dose of Louis striking some real fear into Armand, which is always a treat)

Kaleidoscope by weathermood E, 1.9k

Rashid’s performance is reviewed and put to the test with Louis when Armand arrives home.

(Okay so this is technically a sequel to their fic Instruction which is also v good, but this can be read on its own. I picked it specifically because I love the mind-gift and the way Armand uses it in this fic- whew. And Rashid joins the party! Guys, we love innaproriate workplace relationships in this house and I think Rashid deserves to get in on the fun, even if he's not entirely sure what is happening)

vulture, vulture by polyclonally M, 3.7k

It’s their first night in their new home in San Francisco, and Armand has done his hair exactly the way he knows Louis likes it. Louis, Armand, and San Francisco.

(There's a lot of San Francisco happening on this list and what can I say, I love where resentment reaches a boiling point. I love how it ebbs and flows in this fic. Sometimes so settled that you can see to the deep veins of their affections, but also the different levels of their anger with eachother. Captures the cyclical nature of their emotions so wonderfully)

as natural as another leg around you in the bed by platoapproved E, 2.2k

Louis, Armand. Sleepy, cozy coffin sex. That's all there is to it.

(Exactly what you think it is. I just think we should all be reading everything Rose writes and this fic is too cute)

Rumpelstiltskin by weathermood E, 11.9k

Louis wakes up in a tower.

(I would honestly recommend everything by weathermood, so to put only 2 of their fics on this list was a show of restraint on my part. The use of fantasy and fairytales in their work is to die for. And we love feminizing Louis. Can never have enough of that. OR of romanticizing the cage. Clap for the cage!!)

#the hardest part of this is trying to whittle this list down #when i tell you i had to think about this all day because i didnt know what to pick #but always an honor to peddle my wares. and show love to some great writers!!#interview with the vampire #loumand #char.txt #answered

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lovieku · 9 months ago

Text

GOOD LUCK, BABE! #3 ⋆ 정국

what happens when you leave everything behind, only to be faced with it again years later? eunbi is convinced she was given another shot at keeping all she ever wanted, but it’s difficult when that all is her childhood best friend who doesn’t want to do anything with her anymore. how to earn his trust back?

☾ pairing: non idol!jk x fem!oc

☾ genre: childhood friends to strangers, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, smut

☾ word count: 9k +

☾ warnings: explicit language. say hi to eunbi!!! and to the friend group!!! its a bit funny until it becomes angsty … ouch. jeongguk is a bitch lowkey. pun unintended (you’ll see). theyre dramatic as hell. like bro it cant be that serious 😭. im sawrry for this. and its not all!!! see you in fourth chapter 🫡

☾ author’s note: hi hi hi!!! this took a bit to fully convince me but in the end it did. i was frustrated because i felt like i couldnt really use my words properly to tell the whole thing but… here we are now!!! thank u!!! enjoy 🫶🏻

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three ⋆ this is me trying

Up to that point, Eunbi’s life has been a constant adjusting to new surroundings, leaving bits and pieces behind, getting attached to new ones, and hoping they wouldn’t be taken away from her. It would always end up as she feared it would, though. From as early as she can remember, Eunbi would live off her blue backpack, where she gathered a toothbrush, a change of clothes and her favourite plushie to help her sleep and adapt faster to the smaller bed at her dad’s house. When her parents had divorced, it had been a rough patch before the both of them could come to a legal agreement; that being, she would spend the weekend with her father, and then stay with her mother again until Friday rolled around.

She rarely looks back at those days now, but when she does — mostly at night, her mind seemingly incapable of putting a stop to her furious flow of thoughts and just sleep — she thinks if it hadn’t happened to her when she was still pliable and mouldable, when she was yet to be met with what ordinariness was supposed to look like for others, she wouldn’t have been ready to wholly face all that followed. Eunbi was young when she learned that love between two people could end so easily, and her innocent self accepted that as the norm.

As a result, what she found harder to accept, more than her own mother and father not even being able to stand next to one another without ending up quarrelling, was having to leave her small black poodle in Gwangju, with her grandma, after moving away to Busan. Curly (little Eunbi had given him that name for obvious reasons, and to this very day she finds it dumb, but it makes her giggle nonetheless) had been a great companion through the inevitable loneliness she had to face as an only child. She was convinced he could understand her better than no other, even when she would force the tiny creature to sit and listen to her ramble on.

Busan was the next big change that was pushed onto Eunbi, only a few years after her mother got engaged to a man that would soon replace her biological father: with time, sleeping over at his house for the weekend was no longer even a contemplated thought on his side, coming up with excuses after excuses as not to, and that slowly led to showing less and less interest in keeping up with her and meeting up. The little girl had always been numb in relation to such negligence, and because of this she could consider herself lucky in some distorted sense; it didn’t affect her as much as it should have.

Part of that was also due to her step-dad being a great father figure during the initial times of his and her mom’s relationship, making sure to adapt to Eunbi’s pace and boundaries, never overstepping while also being able to bring fun into her life by taking the family out to visit places and eat delicious meals. What he couldn’t do for her, however, was live with a dog. When he and her mother decided to finally move together following their wedding, they both agreed on wanting to restart from a brand new place. Busan was their perfect pick for a variety of reasons: her mom got offered a job at a recently established company that seemed promising, and her step-dad could fulfil his deep-rooted dream of expanding his by starting a new branch.

Every single thing about him seemed perfect to her mom’s eyes, even if he was apparently deathly allergic to dog’s fur. And, of course, she picked her husband over Curly. Eunbi couldn’t believe it, nor accept it. The girl cried over the small dog for the two weeks prior to moving, during the trip to Busan, and for the following days there. Her grandmother would keep her updated by sending pictures of Curly through email, and even after the scar had healed, those would never fail to make her tear up.

As shameful as it might be to admit it, after having dried herself from half the water that made up her body because of the constant crying, it didn’t take long for the scar to close. When she first stepped foot in the big city by the seaside, Curly showed up right in front of her. Just in human form. Big eyes, long black hair and puppy manners, her neighbour was definitely sent to her by something greater. Eunbi was obsessed. It didn’t show at first, her pride prevailing. But it was harder and harder to fight against it. Jeongguk was simply too easy to love.

They became inseparable. Wherever he was, better believe she was there too, attached at his hip. And if they showed up alone, people would naturally ask about the other. Because the moon is never seen without its stars, and sunflowers only ever turn to face the sun. Their bond could be perceived by anyone as unbreakable, a friendship to envy and wish for, and every brick that built it had resulted in the creation of their own safe haven that only had space to contain the two of them. Not anybody else could be let in, the bubble exclusively recognised their password. It wasn’t composed of words, or numbers. It was the look of understanding they would share; the white lies used to cover the mischief of the other; their own handshake, accompanied by an original friendship jingle that Eunbi came up with randomly; the assurance that they could reveal their biggest secrets to one another, and they’d be kept like an oath.

There’s many of those that Eunbi shamelessly revealed to Jeongguk, some with intent and others unleashed spontaneously during their many endless talks. But when she thinks of it, she never admitted the single one that really mattered, the one that her best friend in the whole world needed to know, and remember. At all times. In any circumstance. It wasn’t a secret, it was more a result of her pondering; it came to a full reasonable thought only years later, and by then it was too late to tell him.

Eunbi thinks, and she’s sure, Jeongguk was the reason why all that came before the two of them had to happen. If it didn’t, she would have spent her whole life looking for that missing puzzle piece: under the cushions of the couch, in between her bed sheets, accidentally thrown away in the bin. It was as if all the hardships she experienced were justified, because at the end of the tunnel Jeongguk was waiting for her. And everything finally made sense. The puzzle was complete. Jeongguk was the reason himself. He was sent to teach her an important lesson: everything happens for a reason. There’s a cause and an effect, and even if the cause was suffering, at least the effect was her favourite boy.

Then, a gust of wind had wiped the puzzle to the ground, every single piece losing its place. When her best friend was taken away from her, she stopped being so convinced with the thought she herself had harboured, because she suddenly couldn’t find the meaning behind such a cruel fate. If everything really happened for a reason, then what was it? Jeongguk helped her see colours, only to return to black and white. Leaving him behind had marked the death of a version of herself that she would never get back.

Seoul was big, and harder to adjust to, even more with the baggage she was now dragging behind. Unpacking it, she found out all she had brought with her was a shattered trust and a soon to be broken promise to never get attached again. It was hard to be faithful to such an imposition, when Eunbi was born to give out love. It was hidden in that luggage, in between fears and regrets, but surely present.

And it prevailed in the end. Even at a slower pace, love found its way up and helped a lost Eunbi navigate the big capital city, promising new beginnings and healing. She found that in the faces of people that she would then start to recognise as friends, inside warm cafes during the coldest days of winter, and in the certainty that no matter where she is, she is always looking up at the same moon.

What she has built in Seoul so far feels the closest to stability that she has experienced in years. Starting university and meeting Dahye was the last bit of convincing it took to make her consider once again that a reason could exist, and that in the end it would make sense. Maybe not totally. Maybe just partly is enough after all.

Until, seeing a pair of familiar starry eyes in the midst of dull ones was all she needed to firmly believe in what she had been finding hard to accept. It took one shared look for past and present to get blurred together, and the mixture of old with new feelings created a mess. It was nice, nonetheless. Better than the seemingly impossible to get rid of emptiness at the pit of her heart.

Behind her eyes, Eunbi could see the puzzle slowly reaching its final form again, this time with more missing pieces, but the image was at least recognisable. When Jeongguk showed up in front of her again like magic, she contemplated becoming religious. Getting to her knees and starting praying to whatever greater force was shining on her path to please keep doing that. None of that showed on the outside, her smile breaking and mirroring the expression on the boy’s face. Pure sorrow. She knew she was probably the last person on earth Jeongguk wanted to see, and the fact that he wasn’t even trying to mask it didn’t help.

The most rational response she could come up with at that moment was to act as if nothing ever happened. And then, the bricks that a long time ago held together their safe bubble were being used by the boy to raise a high wall between them, making sure accessing his space would be impossible for Eunbi. Who could blame him? Still, the happiness she shamelessly felt when Jeongguk showed up at her 20th birthday party was too consuming, she selfishly wished for the rest of her birthdays to always look like that as she blew the candles. Nonetheless, when he suddenly left sprinting on his bike she knew the gods would need time to grant her desire. Although, this time around she had faith.

She doesn’t know how long it would take for it to break, though. September getting closer and closer only means that Jeongguk’s birthday is just around the corner. As part of his friend group, she had been involved in the process that led to organising the surprise camping trip, even if she didn’t exactly participate. After all, she doesn’t get to say she knows the boy better than anyone, anymore. Jeongguk has evidently changed, and as a consequence she knows way less about him than the others.

For that exact reason, Eunbi had made various attempts to back down from the trip, fearing her presence could significantly ruin it for the celebrated boy. At first, she tried to be casual about it with Dahye, since she’s the only one she’s opened up to about the whole dilemma, “I think it’s better if I don’t come. After all, it’s a friend trip. I’m not really his friend.” To which her roommate only replied with bullshit, proceeding to type away on her keyboard. That did not help whatsoever.

Then, the night she was too tipsy to take a taxi back home and Jeongguk had offered her a ride on his bike, she came home with a smile on her face only to burst out crying in front of a just as drunk Dahye. In between sobs, she begged to be left out of the trip, “Ple- Please, Dahye. He hates me. I can’t stand it.” Her friend tried to shush her whines, pushing Eunbi’s head on her chest and consoling her, “He doesn’t, baby. I’m sure he doesn’t.”

As a result of that night, Dahye had then sat her friend down with the intent of fully convincing her to be present for Jeongguk’s birthday trip for a number of reasons, “It would be rude to not show up after he was there for your birthday. And also, what if you two end up talking about… things! And everything gets solved! That would be nice, wouldn’t it, Bibi?”

Eunbi had just nodded all the way through the motivating speech, not really understanding nor believing her words, but apparently they were enough to lead her to the present moment: awkwardly squished between Dahye and Jimin on the couch of her flat, while they animatedly converse with the others to approve on the trip schedule. She has never felt so out of place before, not only because she doesn’t feel like she has a say in the whole discussion, but also because as time went by the two friends by her side kept shifting to subtly get closer to one another, not realising they were compressing her body in the process. To the point she is forced to get up, the position she was in being too uncomfortable, and sit on the ground under the couch next to Namjoon.

She can feel her movements being followed by a pair of curious eyes, and when she looks up to meet them, she finds out they belong to the origin of all her worries. Before Jeongguk can divert his attention elsewhere, aware he was caught observing, she gives him a quick tight lipped smile. It goes dismissed, as if it hadn’t happened. Ouch. It’s okay, Eunbi can take it. She used the few days prior to this to mentally prepare. She knows she’s not exactly welcomed anywhere near him, that’s why she made a silent secret pact within herself: whatever happens during the trip, don’t be a bother to Jeongguk. Stay away from him as much as possible, and if not possible, then do anything to avoid putting that frown on his face, exactly the one he’s sporting right now. On a second thought, if just looking at her gets him to react like that, maybe it’s best to mentally wipe that off her list of things to keep in mind for Jeongguk’s birthday camping trip.

With there still being a day left before their minibreak takes off, the girl can already tell it’s going to be hard to follow the flow of that list, Jeongguk making it obvious her presence could have been avoided before the vacation has even started. Still, she remains composed and brushes off what had just happened, instead focusing on the main topic of conversation.

The group (Hoseok) has decided to meet to go over the schedule one last time because, “Everything needs to be perfect, guys. We can’t afford to slip!” It’s still Hoseok talking. Eunbi learned that he had always been the one in charge of organising events and little getaways when it came to the friend group, his obsession with keeping everything under control coming in handy in such scenarios.

Not only that, but the reddish haired guy is also amazingly quick on his feet, and in a relatively short amount of time he has managed to find the perfect excursions and experiences to go over during the trip, making sure every day spent together would be filled with fun activities that he knows the birthday boy is going to look forward to. In between what he has arranged there is cycling, canoeing, trekking, and more stuff that Eunbi can’t keep up with. Surviving this is going to be made ten times harder by the amount of energy that is going to be expected out of her. She sighs at the thought, looking down at her manicured nails. She just got them done, and now they would surely break.

It takes a few seconds for her to realise the sudden silence that fell above the room, and when she looks back up she’s met with eleven pairs of eyes staring at her. She straightens her posture, suddenly too aware of being perceived, and she deduces her previous exhale had been released with more energy than intended. Hoseok sweetly smiles at her, “Anything you don’t agree on, Eunbi?”

The panicked girl opens her mouth to justify herself, her eyes getting wider and shinier with embarrassment, but Dahye beats her to it, “Bibi, didn’t you say you, like, hate cycling? I’m sure we had a whole conversation about it.“

Eunbi is mortified. Her eyes jump from Dahye to Jeongguk, trying to get her best friend to shut up while also registering the boy’s scoff and muted roll of his eyes. Oh god. Her whole be-lowkey-and-make-yourself-unnoticed plan just shattered in a matter of seconds. She can feel Jeongguk’s eyes bore flaming holes into her skull, his arms crossed and his legs furtherly stretching out on the armchair. If she still had a small, tiny hope left that he didn’t fully hate her, she just witnessed that shattering in pieces too.

She quickly shifts to sit on her heels, her hands frantically shaking to try and save her face for what she could, “No, what? I love cycling. Seriously, I’d do it everyday if I could.” She chuckles shakily while subtly shoving Dahye’s knee next to her to signal going with the lie. At first, Dahye looks clearly confused: she was so sure of that information about her roommate. She furrows her brows, looking down at a panicky Eunbi widening her eyes. It takes only a few more seconds for her to suddenly get it, shaking herself from her doubts and catching the ball, “Oh, right! You do! I got it confused with, huh… something else.” The girl mutters that last part only to join her friend in a nervous laugh, and an apologetic smile. Best believe Dahye is going to hear about this later.

Hoseok looks just as puzzled as the others, but nonetheless he nods, announcing the schedule has been officially confirmed. A collective acclaim fills the room, only for the boy to stop it with a raise of his pointer finger, “Now, I will assign you guys in your respective cars.” Which is comically followed by a joint groan, and some protests. Hoseok ignores them, and goes on reading off his perfectly planned out Word document.

”Namjoon is the first driver, and he’s travelling with Iseul, Seokjin and Sora,” he looks up to briefly check with the mentioned members to see if there are any complaints, then proceeds. “We’ve got Yoongi with me, Aera and Taehyung. Then…” Hoseok squints his eyes while scrolling down the document, and those few seconds of silence are enough for Eunbi’s thoughts to anticipate what is about to follow. She lowers her head, unwilling to meet Jeongguk’s glare when Hoseok says, “Jeongguk is driving with Jimin, Dahye and Eunbi. All set?”

The positive response is quick, even too rushed and disregardful of what was said, as Namjoon and Taehyung have been impatiently begging for the never-ending organising to be over so they could order food and finally fill their starved stomachs. No one pays any mind to it, but Eunbi and Jeongguk stay quiet, while Jimin and Dahye share a knowing look. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

The evening is spent in the cramped living room of Eunbi and Dahye’s shared flat, eating pizza and letting a random movie play, which soon only functioned as a background noise the moment Taehyung started a game of Would You Rather. Even if Yoongi initially shushed him, everyone eventually became more delighted with Seokjin’s unthinkable suggestions than with the film, “Would you rather be trapped in a small room with 10,000 tarantulas for 10 minutes, or eat 10 tarantulas in 10 minutes?”

Eunbi tries to let herself be distracted by the content smiles on her friends’ faces, even feels less distressed when she notices Jeongguk relaxing as well, but that doesn’t stop her mind from overflowing with all the things that could potentially go wrong. It inevitably shows on her face, and in her unusual quietness. She has been pondering on the last information Hoseok had shared about the confirmed schedule for hours now, worrying it was going to start the trip on the wrong foot. There were all the best intentions to not poke the sleeping bear, but she fears being in the same car as him is going to stir him awake.

After the group leaves the apartment at past 1 a.m., Hoseok checking with everyone that they’ll show up at 8 sharp tomorrow morning in front of the same building they’re now parting ways from, Eunbi releases a long sigh as she closes the door behind her shoulders. Dahye catches the look on her features immediately, taking her pretty face in between her palms, “I’m sorry for earlier. I was trying to help.” She pouts, and it makes the shorter girl chuckle.

Eunbi shakes her head, dismissing her apology with a small it’s okay, and freeing herself from her friend’s hold so as to avoid meeting her eyes, instead busying herself with tidying up the mess in the living room. Her flatmate looks at the strangely silent girl narrowly, “What are you thinking? Please, don’t let it be something stupid like I don’t wanna drive in Jeongguk’s car.”

When all Dahye is met with is silence, she knows that specific something stupid is flowing in the other girl’s head. Eunbi spends the next hour packing and letting Dahye think she’s wholly convincing her distressed roommate nothing could go wrong from just being close to each other, and if anything, it could be a starting point.

For the sake of getting at least three hours of sleep before the long drive ahead, Eunbi fake promises her friend that she won’t let such thoughts haunt her mind and stop her from enjoying the holiday (she was forced to repeat those exact words) knowing she’s going to let them do precisely that. She also ends up staying awake all night either way, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse that she can use to ask Hoseok if a small change would be possible, hoping it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle to him and his perfect plan.

When the following morning rolls around, the group gathers in the courtyard of the flat complex as instructed hours earlier by Hoseok, who looks like he’s on the verge of a serious crisis when it’s one minute past 8 a.m. and Taehyung still hasn’t shown up. Eunbi fears for her life when she taps his shoulder as delicately as she can, still unable to avoid a jumpy reaction from the boy, who then relaxes when he sees the girl’s sweet smile. That lasts for about one second, because when Eunbi softly asks him if they can talk he’s back to puffing out panicky breaths.

She hesitates a moment before uttering in one single exhale, “I’d rather not go in Jeongguk’s car.” Faced with Hoseok’s perplexed stare, she goes on explaining in a rushed, messy speech, “It’s nothing personal, really. It’s just- Iseul! Yeah, Iseul begged me to be in the car with Dahye… She doesn’t know Sora that well so she said it would be way too awkward. I can go with Namjoon!” She ends it by trying to sport a convincing grin on her lips, but with the way it looks like she’s being held at gunpoint to smile it’s doing the exact opposite, not helping in hiding her own panic at all.

Hoseok takes a few seconds to process her request and read her expression, but in the end he just shrugs and nods enthusiastically, “That’s okay!” He then claps his hands twice, recalling the others’ attention who comically snap their heads in unison, hanging on the boss’ lips, “Tiny change. Eunbi doesn’t wanna be in Jeongguk’s car, so she’s going with Namjoon.”

For the second time in under 24 hours, Eunbi is so embarrassed she prays the ground to swallow her whole. Hoseok doesn’t seem to be making a big deal out of the way he worded his announcement, busy typing away on his phone, probably updating his Word document with the recent change. The others don’t look too fazed either, accustomed with the two infamously not being too fond of each other for no apparent reason, except for Dahye and Jimin: the former is looking at the girl incredulously; the latter has shifted his attention to his best friend.

Eunbi can feel cold sweat dripping down her forehead, the weight of the world crushing on her shoulders. She’s afraid to follow Jimin’s line of vision, but as she slowly does, it leads her to meet Jeongguk’s intense gaze, a slight pissed scowl hardening his features along with his brows almost meeting at the bridge of his nose. His all black attire composed of an oversized t-shirt, cargo bermuda shorts and chunky sandals matches perfectly with the look on his face. He seems confused, and unnerved. And sad? This is not how things were supposed to unfold.

Under such pressure, the girl impulsively releases a nervous laugh, her whole face red with awkwardness, “It’s not like I didn’t- Okay! I’ll just go wait in the car.” Her head hangs as she distances herself from the group, finding an escape from Jeongguk’s disappointment in Namjoon’s car. She bangs her head on the dashboard a few times, making the most of the last minutes alone she’s getting before departure.

Starring in that shitshow was not on her list of things to keep in mind for Jeongguk’s birthday camping trip in any way. On the contrary, what she has been trying to do is going by the rules of the list itself: stay away from Jeongguk and don’t be a bother. Instead, the opposite seems to be happening every time she attempts to be nice to him so as to not be a hassle during the trip. Releasing a shaky breath, she hopes her intentions wouldn’t be misinterpreted by the boy, as she tries foolishly convincing herself the telepathy between them still exists, at least to a small extent. She was only doing this for him. To make it easier for him. Please, please send this telepathic message to Jeongguk.

Connection probably isn’t working too well, because when they all get to the destination after a fairly long ride, Jeongguk still looks pissed, shutting the car door with more energy than required and unloading the luggages, taking his and Iseul’s to the entrance of the camping site. Eunbi narrows her eyes as she observes the scene, the short haired girl thanking the previously annoyed boy and effortlessly putting a smile on his lips, and she almost doesn’t notice Namjoon urging her to move. She abruptly shakes herself out of that trance, relaxing her hands that had subconsciously closed into fists, and takes her bags out of the car. As she clumsily drags them on both of her shoulders, her Converses do little to protect her soles from the rocky ground, and she groans. It’s not like she was expecting Namjoon to carry her baggage, she can do it herself. But as she keeps watching Jeongguk easily handling all that weight, she huffs.

The campsite looks amazing. The space that the group has at their disposal is huge and wholly surrounded by nature, making it the perfect getaway from the chaos of the city. Not too far, in between trees, a glimpse of the sun reflecting its rays in a large lake can be caught. Eunbi witnesses an excellently carried out jam session, with the lively enthusiasm of her friends on microphone, birds on percussion and cicadas on bass. She smiles, and sighs contentedly. Dahye’s words from last night echo in her head, don’t let this stop you from enjoying the holiday, and today she wants to believe them. She’s glad she chose to wear jeans shorts instead of cargos, the heat slowly but surely rising, and a flowy white top that keeps her fresh, for now.

Hoseok instructs them to get to work, and they do. All their bags are gathered under a big ancient tree as each couple and trio starts (tries) setting their tents. While they’re busy figuring out how to ensure the tent won’t fly away, which Taehyung fears particularly, Jimin and Jeongguk offer themselves to go and fill everyone’s water flask at a nearby drinking fountain they had found. Eunbi kneels down to fish hers out of a blue backpack and goes to hand it out to Jeongguk, who’s collecting Dahye’s bottle. The boy smiles at her friend, but it gets wiped off when he shifts his gaze on Eunbi’s shorter figure. The moment is brief, and awkward: her big unsure eyes stare into his hardened ones, arm extended out to him, wondering if there might be something funny on her face for him to turn so serious; she hesitantly lifts her brows, waiting for something; Jeongguk looks her up and down, only to not acknowledge her water flask, and just walks past her.

Eunbi is dumbfounded, the tip of her ears reddening as she remains paralysed with her hand out, even after Jimin collects her flask, muttering something close to Don’t mind him, please accompanied by an apologetic smile. She regains consciousness of her surroundings only when, beside her, Dahye can’t help the snort coming out of her mouth, trying but failing to save it with her hand. The still shocked girl slowly turns to face her amused friend, mouth slightly agape and left eye clearly twitching, “Did he just… act as if I don’t exist.”

The situation shouldn’t be funny, but to Dahye it’s the peak of comedy as she keeps giggling the more the slow realisation of what has just happened shows on Eunbi’s features. Obviously, the latter can’t find one single reason to laugh about it, whining while the taller girl pats her shoulder, still smiling, “You really need to talk to him.”

The targeted girl ignores that, biting her nails nervously, ”Was he saying anything about… me, in the car?”

Dahye lifts her brows, shaking her head, ”Nothing. He’s probably talking shit about you with Jimin, though.” Eunbi follows her pointed finger and catches Jeongguk animatedly discussing with his flatmate, balancing the bottles in his arms, before they turn a corner. Eunbi fusses, lightly tugging on her braided pigtails, and she feels helpless as even the friend who’s supposed to be supporting her through all of this is chuckling at her. Despite being shorter, when Eunbi shoves Dahye’s shoulder she manages to make her stumble, but that doesn’t stop her laughs, though.

”You’re building the tent on your own.” Arms crossed and pout on, Eunbi isn’t joking as she goes to sit under the tree surrounded by bags and ignores her name being called out. Rather than reacting to it, she spots tiny bugs between the grass and inspects them for a while, pretending it keeps her distracted from what’s plaguing her mind. Soon after, with her knees to her chest, watching those ants working to transfer food from one side to the other inevitably gets her lost in her thoughts. What is she doing wrong? There’s clearly unresolved problems between her and the boy who brutally ignored her existence minutes ago, but she thought maybe if she started seeking for truce, then he would too. His response, instead, makes her realise no matter how much she tries, it’s apparently not enough to mend what happened all those years ago. She messed up worse than imagined.

The constant pondering makes her lose track of time, and she comes back to reality with undesired outcomes that she convinces herself to be true. When she recovers from the (as she has deduced, deserved) humiliation, Dahye has already set up half of the tent and Eunbi walks over to her bashfully, “Sorry for being childish. I’ll finish this, Hye.” The girl just smiles softly and nods, sending her a flying kiss that makes Eunbi chuckle before taking her previous spot under the tree. At least Dahye doesn’t hate her.

It takes her a while to figure out what to do but she soon grasps how hard a seemingly simple task can be, feeling bad for letting Dahye do a great part of it on her own. Still, she needs to work fast as lunch time is approaching, and everybody around her is almost finished. She has been crouching on a particular spot on the ground for a while now, trying to properly secure an angle of the tent unsuccessfully. Until she groans exasperated, puffing her hair out of her vision and lifting her body up to find a solution. She tries stomping on it a few times, but it doesn’t work, and if anything it worsens the situation. Huffing out, with her hands on her hips she looks around for help, and the first person her eyes fall on is Jeongguk.

He was already staring at her, comfortably sitting on a deckchair with his legs spread and sunglasses on. His tent looks perfectly set already, with Jimin seemingly fixing the inside of it. His hand is covering his mouth before he uses it to lift his glasses over his head, and is that a smirk? They both stare at each other in silence, Eunbi still struggling to breathe, and she hesitates slightly until her eagerness to be over with the tent becomes stronger. She speaks up to make herself heard over the small distance, “Can you- help me?”

Jeongguk narrows her eyes at her, initially not answering but not even moving from his relaxed position. The girl is ready to be met with silence again, but it’s something worse when he opens his mouth, “I think Namjoon would be happy to do that.” He’s as stern as ever as he returns the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, furtherly spreading his whole body on the chair and facing the sun. Only then, he releases a content sigh, smiling slightly.

All of this cannot be real. What does that even mean? Eunbi can feel her eye start to twitch again and she needs to clench her jaw to stop it. It’s okay. Breathe. She unexpectedly but successfully manages to hold herself from exploding on him, both overwhelmed with tent building and frustrated with his behaviour. She can’t really decipher what led him to not only act cold, as he usually is with her, which is fine, but also mean! But no problem, she’ll try once again. It costs nothing to be nice. And she tells herself she’ll stay that way, even if she’s met with the opposite, until he breaks.

The storm of negative emotions tormenting her thoughts can be distortedly seen as a good thing on one side, if she considers that the sudden adrenaline flowing in her body gets her through most of the task without any help, even mindlessly, while she keeps reflecting on the interaction and the previous ones. Why the fuck would Namjoon be happy to help her? Well, he would, he’s naturally a helper, but why did Jeongguk say that? Is he really that pissed about her going in his car? She tries to understand, she really does. Keep being nice is what she tells herself instead.

When the tent is finally up, only with Dahye’s finishing touches, and food is finally in her stomach, refilling her energy tank, it’s like there’s a switch going off in her head, making it seem as if nothing bad has ever happened. Eunbi is back to her talkative self with a full tummy and a bashful grin while her best friend teases her for the earlier tantrum she went on about, but at least it’s all smiles again.

The first day at the campsite is spent basking in the slowness that follows after ticking off the only two activities planned for today on Hoseok’s schedule: setting their tents and preparing meals for lunch and dinner. The boss then instructs the group on just getting acquainted with their surroundings, and they don’t need to be told twice, making the most out of those short remaining moments of ease.

The rest of those hours are used to laze by the huge lake, in between swims and sunbathes. Luckily, Eunbi had packed a few bikinis and she chose to wear a black set, its laces meeting at the back with a bow. Sitting back and taking it easy, before all that she will be faced with the next few days, gives her a chance to get closer to the others. During the earlier drive, she had the opportunity to chat with Sora and discover the sweetheart she truly is, and the car was then easily filled with laughter, mostly provided by Namjoon and Seokjin’s terrible jokes. She now sits by Sora on a beach towel, all the other girls in a circle catching up and laying by the sun. In the back of their gossip session, the boys could be heard laughing and squealing, and the sound reminded Eunbi of sweet childhood. She briefly shifts her attention to them and smiles when she observes how they’re doing the most to tire their energy out, from using a rope hanging by the branch of a tree to leap into the water, to initiating a volleyball match using one of their rolled up towels.

Eunbi grows even fonder than before of the people she’s surrounded with, the earlier stress leaving her body and being replaced by serenity, a small sigh released from her lips before she returns to listen to the girls’ chat. She laughs at something Dahye says and jumps on it excitedly, making the others chuckle at the two friends eagerly recounting one of their craziest uni experiences so far.

All of it is short lived when Taehyung and Jimin suddenly drop a water balloon over their heads, a collective gasp filling the space followed by the two boys’ childish giggles and Dahye’s screams, getting up to run after them. They all spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get back at each other with more pranks, bathing in the lake’s cold water and taking silly group pictures to seal the day. As the sun begins to set, they all sit on their towels and silently observe nature, definitely too tired to speak, and preferring to savour the sweet moment.

When the sun finally leaves its place for the moon to rise and the group of friends gets back to their tents, their stomachs growling signal it’s time for dinner. They take turns to shower using the nearby public structure and then help setting a campfire to cook. It also works as a very needed source of heat, given the temperature has significantly dropped and their bodies are still humid from washing up. Eunbi wears the grey cargos she had discarded earlier this morning when deciding on what to put on, and a white tee, her damp hair falling on her shoulders and making her feel slightly chilly. She comes up beside Yoongi to help him with the meat, benefiting from the warmth of the fire.

There’s not much talk between the two, only the older boy advising her to be careful of the flames every two minutes, but it’s comfortable. Eunbi still has a hard time reading through Yoongi, and maybe it’s what she enjoys the most about him: his aura is soothing and it exudes security. He doesn’t exactly show it, but he’s deeply attentive and caring of his friends, and the girl feels safe next to him. She can sense him looking over at her while the meat is cooking, and as she turns to him she meets his eyes with a smile. He ponders, scanning her face “You got sunburnt. You need to wear sunscreen tomorrow, or it’ll get worse.”

Eunbi chuckles, dragging her pointer finger up and down her red nose, “Yeah, I know. It kinda hurts but it looks like I have natural blush now!”

Yoongi shakes his head with a small amused scoff, “That’s stupid, Eunbi. Wait for me here, I’ll go get you an after-sun cream.” And even as he walks off, he reminds her to not stay too close to the fire. She thinks that’s an exact demonstration of what the boy is truly like in her head.

The girl keeps grilling the meat, humming unknown melodies under her breath, and she almost misses a broad figure sitting on one of the chairs surrounding the fire. When she looks up, it’s Jeongguk avoiding her eyes and instead staring at the flames, their light reflecting in his big orbs and making them shinier. He wears his bermudas from earlier, but he now has a grey Stussy hoodie on top of it. His locks are still wet after freshly coming out of a shower, and they curl on his forehead, making him look like a poodle. She smiles. It’s like 15 years old Jeongguk is there with her again, his bare, exhausted face and droopy eyes taking her back to Busan. Without even realising what she’s doing, she extends a cooked piece of meat his way, “You want some?”

Startled, the boy breaks from his spacing-out and registers the request. He looks between Eunbi and the meat, gulping. He licks his lips, and she swears she can also hear his stomach rumbling. When he keeps ogling the food without replying, she wiggles the fork and his eyes follow its every movement, as if hypnotised. Then, he suddenly screws his eyelids shut and breaks from the trance, simply shaking his head no and fishing his phone out of his pocket, mindlessly scrolling on it. Just like that, she’s back to the present, and Jeongguk hates her. Eunbi narrowly glares at him while he can’t see her.

Yoongi comes back soon after with two different creams in his hands, and he gives them to Eunbi with a chuckle. She thanks him and lets him take over the cooking, while she curiously inspects the products, still standing next to the fire. When Yoongi spots his younger friend on the chair, he asks the same exact question as her, forking a piece of meat, “You want some?”

Jeongguk’s attention is back up, this time on Yoongi, and when he sees what his hyung is referring to he eagerly nods. Eunbi interrupts her examination just in time to see the boy hungrily shoving the food in his mouth, brows furrowed and praising noises accompanying his munching, making the older friend by her side chuckle. Instead, the girl is once again in disbelief, even more as he watches Jeongguk patting his knee with force, satisfied with the bite, “Hyung, this shit is so good. I want more.”

Eunbi scoffs imperceptibly, leaving the scene with an annoyed scowl wrecking her pretty features. As she enters her tent, she’s glad Dahye is still showering as she makes the most of that isolating moment. She sighs wearily and whips out her phone. Using its camera, she tries to ignore her tumbling emotions and instead puts on the creams Yoongi had given her, but not even those are enough to distract her. She’s still incredulous at what she’s being put through, her patience wearing thin, and the pact she made with herself before coming here is dangerously close to being broken.

Dinner is spent with good food and even better people, and only then Eunbi visibly untenses again. In between bites and full mouths, they go from discussing random facts to casually engaging in games of Truth or Dare or Never Have I Ever, the beer bottles slowly being emptied while their tummies get filled. When they’re done eating, the relaxed smiles on their faces implicitly communicate how the meal has been the perfect ending to the lovely day spent together. Still, they stay by the fire and keep up an effortless chat. When one of them comments on the limpidity of the sky, its stars being perfectly visible in this zone of Seoul, they all look up and stare in silence at the fullness of the lights.

Even if it’s not too late, the weariness from being out in the sun for multiple consecutive hours is weightening down on most of them, Seokjin and Sora retiring to their tents, soon after being followed by Yoongi and Hoseok.

It’s a little past midnight, and Eunbi starts to feel more and more affected by the cool breeze, its effects showing on her prickled skin. She tries to warm herself up by rubbing her exposed arms with her hands, but it’s to no avail, “God, I’m so cold.”

A collective agreement follows her claim, with Iseul speaking up and curling herself into a ball on the deckchair she’s sitting on by taking her legs up to her chest and hugging them close, “Me too, it’s freezing.”

”Oh, I have a spare hoodie.” Both girls snap their heads at the voice, which belongs to Jeongguk. However, as he quickly gets up to retrieve the sweater from his tent, it’s not clear who between the two he’s referring to, their curious expectant eyes following his every movement. Eunbi has her reasons to feel so eager, given the fact that she has been begging for one nice interaction with the boy, a spark of hope lighting up in her chest at his offer. On the other hand, she doesn’t know why the other girl seems equally excited, twirling her short hair around her fingers as she waits for Jeongguk to come out of the tent again. She huffs, a pout ending on her features.

When the sought-after boy gets back with a blueish crewneck in his arms, both girls hold their breaths, the sudden tension going unnoticed by the others (except for Dahye, she’s like a psychic when it comes to her best friend’s emotions), until Jeongguk lays the piece of clothing on Iseul’s shoulders, coming behind her and then sitting on his chair again.

Iseul bashfully thanks him, the tips of her ears seemingly reddening while a sweet, alluring smile makes its way on her lips. Eunbi scoffs at that, and if looks could kill Iseul would be dead right now. The dirty look she sends her way luckily goes unnoticed, and she keeps hugging her own body trying to provide herself with warmth. When she shifts her attention to Jeongguk, he’s already looking at her, smirking. She can’t be convinced he isn’t doing all this on purpose.

Even with her teeth almost chattering, the neglected girl forces herself to stay with the others until the end, and with Namjoon and Taehyung retiring to sleep only six of them remain. Under a white full moon, the conversation doesn’t really follow a clear direction, steering from existential questions that none really have the answers to, to Jimin’s drunken adventures. Jeongguk giddily joins the recounting and adds many details to it, specifically highlighting the embarrassing parts that his roommate is trying to omit to save face, and making all of his friends laugh with their whole chest, Eunbi included. She simply can’t ignore the fact that he’s naturally charming, and hilarious as well. In the middle of his storytelling, his whole body gets involved and it makes the events seem even more impressive. Eunbi smiles when she compares the Jeongguk in front of her to the beloved one in her past, the one that would sit her down and force her to keep up with his running imagination, constantly up with new ideas for silly scripts.

Then it’s Dahye’s turn to share one of her experiences, and Eunbi inevitably gets thrown into the tale, which had seen the two friends drunkenly sneaking themselves into a concert. It’s like they’re perfectly mirroring Jimin and Jeongguk’s dynamic, because while Dahye is trying to leave out critical parts of the story, Eunbi strongly insists on specifying them with an unseen emphasis for 1 a.m., causing everybody to laugh along. In between chuckles, her eyes fall on Jeongguk, who is mindlessly scrolling on his phone and seemingly not paying attention. Throughout the recounting, she notices Jeongguk distractly listening but never laughing, and if he does it’s only after something said by Dahye. Slowly, the enthusiasm gets wiped off her face as she curls up on the chair, sulkily letting her friend finish telling the story.

Another hour of effortless conversation goes by, and Jeongguk is back to lively chatting again, his animated gestures and witty jokes getting laughter out of his friends, but this time Eunbi doesn’t join. She silently sets on observing the boy, despite being caught a few times. She really wants to understand the reason behind his behaviour, but there’s no factual explanation she can come up with other than the obvious reasons that put them in this situation in the first place. If that’s the case, there’s nothing much she can do other than going up to him and finally talking it out like the mature adults they should be, but with their petty, silent bickering she doesn’t think that’s happening any soon.

While she’s busy squinting her eyes at the boy, in a borderline creepy manner, she doesn’t notice Iseul crouching in half in laughter at something Jeongguk said, until she’s directly referring to her, “Oh god, Eunbi! Why did you never tell me Jeongguk was this funny?” Said girl is startled by the question and by the abrupt interruption that shakes her out of her trance, confusion written on her face and it must be evident with the way Iseul goes on explaining, “Dahye told me you’ve known him for a long time.”

All at once, the atmosphere is tense and maybe Iseul and Aera can’t feel it, but Dahye definitely can as she snaps her head to her friend, who’s staring directly into Jeongguk’s eyes. The two seem to be battling an unnamed war through eye contact, and the intensity of the boy’s gaze ignites something implacable in the girl’s chest, dangerously close to rage, and it has to do with all the feelings she’s had to bottle up in less than 24 hours. She scoffs, referring to Iseul but never breaking the staring contest with the boy, “Oh, is he? Don’t think I’m well acquainted with that side of him yet.”

If the tension wasn’t palpable to everyone before the comment, it surely is now, the only ones that have something left to say being the crickets and owls in the background. Jeongguk only snickers before washing a hand over his face, an unsettling smirk on his lips. He seems to finally acknowledge the other girl’s presence, but it’s not in the way Eunbi initially imagined it would go. Instead, it’s venom spitting out of his mouth, “You would've been if you weren’t so self centred, always wrapped in your own bubble all the fucking time.”

Eunbi's confidence falls as quick as her heart, a sudden force weighing on it and almost crushing it. She’s fast at hiding it, ignoring the slight sting she can sense in the back of her eyelids, her only goal is to shoot harder. She forces the fakest smile she can muster, “Self centred? Are you sure you're talking about me?” The affronted girl scoffs, loud and sarcastic, “Fuck, and I thought you'd know better than that, Jeongguk. You should try getting your head out of your ass and look around. Maybe you'd see how shitty you've been treating all of us-” me “-for these past weeks.”

Jeongguk is visibly taken aback, and it’s his heart falling this time, his face following suit. His broken features do little to hide the doubts plaguing his spiralling mind. Had he pushed it too far? Had he been actually so bad to his own friends? Seeing his contender’s face relaxing with victory makes him snap out of the sudden trance, as he regains consciousness fast. No, he hasn’t. Fuck this. Blinded by anger, he utters the unimaginable, “Speak for yourself when you say shit like that. As far as I'm concerned, I've been treating you fairly seeing the bitch you are.”

His eyes are as pitch as black, the stars in them that Eunbi would love to get lost into are unreachable now, almost as if a dark cloud had obscured them. It must be the pollution that's taking over his heart too.

She’s frozen in place as the cruel words echo in her mind, the force that was keeping her heart underwater had managed to crush it, and it was now coming up her throat, squeezing the air out of her lungs. Her ears ring with the sudden lack of oxygen, and she can only faintly hear Dahye’s raging comments coming in her defence against Jeongguk. She can only seem to focus on the cracking of the fire, though, its thumping noise suddenly unbearable, as she feels more and more engulfed in its flames. She forces all sounds to come back to her, strongly pulling herself out of her own plagued head, the boy in front of her now unrecognisable to her empty eyes.

Looking around, she notices all of her friends — his, after all — had gone extremely quiet, the pressure weighing on them too. She can't stand it, needs to get out. She wishes she had never agreed to this. So much for keeping her peace. Yet, she'll never give him the satisfaction of knowing how much that hurt her. She'll die before crying in front of him.

“Well, if you don't mind, the bitch has had enough now, so with all due respect, she's going to sleep.” With a forced tight lipped smile, she gets up in one fast movement and walks to her tent, leaving the others disoriented, and a still furious Dahye scoffing at Jeongguk. He follows her with his eyes until she disappears in her shelter, clenching his jaw and announcing his departure soon after.

Inside the tent, Eunbi takes several deep breaths trying to calm down, and she feels frail when she can sense her eyes prickle with tears. She tells herself it’s angry ones. Apparently, being nice isn’t enough, and she watches as the seal to her pact shatters with force, signalling no come back. Following suit, the puzzle breaks once again, and she’s left scrambling for the pieces falling, looking for the one that will start it over again. And this time, it’s going to be even harder.

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