#there were so many scenes i wanted to include in this bc!! so many!!!!!! relationships i loved

[strangersynth]

bc you have things to say doesn't always mean you needa say them let alone it also doesn't always mean it's your place to say them kwim

[chocosvt]

HER | part two.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.7k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s! 

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that! 

bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.

updates: in terms of a posting schedule, i'm pre sure i'm just gonna post every saturday night ~12am EST (so technically sunday lol). taglist is included in the comment section since tumblr now has limit as to how many peeps are mentioned per post :p

thanks againnnn! 🌟

⇢ part one | part three | part four | part five | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

—MAY 12TH.

Wonwoo was sat on his couch with your laptop glowing in front of him, one hand holding up his chin while the other scrolled slowly through your writing. Finally, you’d let him actually glean your work, and he was quite impressed with your natural skill. He supposed the biggest issue was the choppiness—your sentence structures were much like your racing tangents, and in some areas the writing lacked flow and a smooth continuality. But that sort of ability would just develop on its own as long as you were practicing.

For the most part, Wonwoo was leaving behind small notes and highlighting areas that you could revisit at a later time.

“Okay, I’m going to do a handstand.”

However, as Wonwoo had been combing through your work for the past half-hour, that left you with an apparent boredness which somehow translated into an acrobatics session in his living room.

“I’d really prefer you didn’t,” he answered through the fingers covering his mouth, his eyes trained with focus on the document.

“No, no. I used to be so good at them. Watch.”

Wonwoo was in the midst of typing a note when a small, circular embroidered pillow had suddenly struck the laptop, nearly forcing it shut. It was then that Wonwoo looked up with a long sigh, acknowledging the devious, shining smile that sprung to your face.

“Now that I have your attention—”

Wonwoo titled his head, folded his arms, and propped one foot onto the coffee table, somewhat like an exhausted parent who was being heckled by their child to watch the “special trick” they’d just learned. He was internally praying you actually were good at handstands, because that fragile pottery vase and the antique gold clock sitting on the fire mantel had never looked so breakable until now. A cool breeze slivered in through the open window as your arms began raising above your head, and he heard you inhale steadily.

“Go!” You then shouted, either in motivation or impatience aimed at yourself, loud enough to make Wonwoo flinch.

The next moment, you were basically flipped upside down, your socked feet sticking pointedly in the air while your hands stumbled about on the brown rug for a few seconds, attempting to find their place rooted in the fuzz. Wonwoo pursed his lip, impressed.

“See! Told you!”

“I mean, I never said you couldn’t.”

“Are you amazed?”

He watched with a slight bit of nervousness as you walked a few paces forward with your hands, though he kept his calm composure from the couch and dealt you about three dull claps.

“Cirque de Soleil is asking for you, actually.”

To Wonwoo’s utter relief, you collapsed back onto your feet, probably because the blood was gushing to your head and he’d rather not have you faint squarely on the face in his living room. You then sat on your knees for a moment, rubbing slowly at your scalp.

“I’m almost done,” Wonwoo reaffirmed, moving aside the stitched pillow you’d chucked at him earlier and reopening the laptop.

“Don’t let me rush you.”

He chuckled instantly. “You mean to tell me you’re not bored out of your mind? Why else would you be doing cartwheels.”

Finally, you got up from the rug.

“Um, it was a handstand,” you were hasty to correct him, now sinking into the seat beside Wonwoo on the couch with the circle pillow pulled onto your lap. “I could do a cartwheel, though.”

“Yeah, not in this house you’re not.”

“Not in this house you’re not.”

He merely smirked at your attempt to mimic him by employing a cartoonishly deep tone that you found very amusing, made evident by your prideful giggles close to his ear. Just as Wonwoo scrolled to the end of the document to type his last note, you were piqued with curiosity and leaned over his lap, grabbing at the screen to examine how far he’d come during your hour together.

“So, where are you at anyway?”

Wonwoo pressed himself back into the couch, immediately removing his hands from the keyboard. It felt like at the most random, unpredictable times you would swoop in so close to him, and he never quite knew how to react. Most times he would freeze, become stiff and hardly breathing, run his eyes in all different directions around the room because everything seemed easier when he pretended you didn’t exist.

He adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.

“I’m basically done.”

“You are? Okay. Hm… it seems like you made a lotta notes.”

Wonwoo squirmed in his seat as though it were scratching him. You eventually pulled away, but your knee was now resting on the side of his thigh and you were sitting much closer than before—close enough that your shoulder was digging into his and he could sense your full, bright eyes burning a stare at his pink cheek.

“They’re mostly easy fixes…” he mumbled, refusing to look at you, instead scrolling impetuously through the document with jerks of his pointer and middle finger.  

“Well, what do you think of it?”

He paused, still staring at the laptop.

“Of what?”

“Wonwoo, my writing, obviously,” you said with a warm laugh and a soft breath that rushed over his neck in such a pleasurable, lightheaded way. “And look at me,” he heard you ask in a lower, more sincere voice, your fingers then ghosting along his tense jaw in a fleeting, sensitive touch as you guided his head gently in your direction, “I just want to know you’re telling the truth.”

He was accustomed to your eyes being filled with sparks and the readiness to pit the most sharp-tongued comment in history, and so Wonwoo was able to relax ever so slightly upon realizing how your gaze had become increasingly mellow, welcoming even.

“Well, you’re obviously good at it,” he managed to answer the question without his voice trembling, “just some pacing issues, mostly. You’ve got a bit of an issue with run-on sentences and closing up a scene. But you plan a lot, which is nice. I mean, you can only get better.”

An earnest smile picked its way across your face, framing your polished teeth and pushing up the apples of your cheeks. Wonwoo had to look away—sometimes it was too much—you were too much, and he refused to let himself drown beneath your intensity that he found purely terrifying. Your knee proceeded to pull from his thigh and you were now dragging your body off the couch, which meant that Wonwoo could safely exhale the breath he was holding. He wondered if you just wanted to hear the compliment, or if you were legitimately pleased with his praise.

You walked up to his fireplace mantel, examining the items left along the white, sparkling trim he’d spritzed clean of all dust.

“Did you make this?” Came your inquiry, a curious finger pointing toward the round-bottomed, thin-necked red vase.

Wonwoo shook his head.

“No, it was a welcome gift from the landlord.”

“She made it?”

“Yeah,” he hummed. “Didn’t I tell you? She owns the pottery business downstairs. Saskia. She immigrated here like, eighteen years ago, now. From Poland. I thought you might’ve run into her.”

Shaking your head, you turned back to the vase.

“I didn’t see her at all.”

“She was probably in her office.”

“How did she make all these little emblem thingies? Around the base? Like, this one’s got an elephant. This one is a fruit tree.”

Wonwoo squinted at the vase from his place on the couch. He hadn’t really examined it much, apart from when his landlord had thrust it into his hands while she welcomed him to the building. It never held any flowers, either—not even the brilliant ruby coloured poinsettias his ex-girlfriend's mother was supposed to send.

The relationship has disintegrated before it could ever happen.

“Fuck, don’t know. She has a bunch of little tools down there for more detailed work. Maybe a stamp. You’d have to ask her.”

“It’s really pretty.”

His brows furrowed. “Yeah? You like ceramics or something?”

You turned back to him, shrugging.

“I don’t know. I was just saying, it’s pretty.”

“It is. It’s very pretty.”

With a sigh, you climbed back onto the couch.

“Do you think you’re done editing?”

He picked up the laptop and set it down on the coffee table.

“I think so. For the day.”

“Perfect.” You smiled. “I’ll make time to read your notes tomorrow morning, if I can. Seems like there’s about eight-hundred.”

Wonwoo chuckled, “not eight-hundred. Try twenty.”

“Twenty?!” Your eyes bulged in shock as you gripped onto the embroidered pillow hugged back into your lap. “That’s so many!”

“What—twenty is somehow more than eight-hundred? What fucking planet are you living on where numeracy works like that?”

“Wonwoo, I have so much to do tomorrow!” You winced, tossing your head against the couch and slipping down the cushions.

“Okay, like what?”

“… Gosh… no, no. Fuck it. It doesn’t matter.”

“No, tell me. What have you got to do tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to tell.”

“Why not?” He murmured.

“If I talk about, then I’ll want to do it even less.” There was an empty sigh he heard from your chest as your arms curled tight around the pillow. “Besides, it’s squished all into my colour-coded block on the schedule. The pink one. I just—I don’t want to think about it.”

“Fair. I get that.”

“It’s complicated family stuff.”

Wonwoo huffed sympathetically. “I get that even more.”

“… So, we’re still good for Spring Street on Sunday?” You asked, staring up at Wonwoo from your sunken, defeated slump.

He nodded.

“I’ll be there if you are.”

—MAY 14TH.

The Spring Street Fair. It happened every single May, for three days straight, usually Friday to Sunday. In the daytime it was cheerier and more watered down for the children that came hand in hand with their parents, looking to feed the alpacas and ride those nauseating teacups and sob until exhaustion because they accidentally let go of their kitten-shaped balloon. However, at night, the fair had become a beacon for the older, rowdier university crowd.

Wonwoo never went despite all his recent years living in the city, but Vernon had, usually on accounts of “business” which really meant selling drugs for idiotic prices behind the Whirler or the Starship. You wanted to go, but hadn’t told Wonwoo the reason. He opted to assume it was another part of your story—maybe you ran into Mingyu at a similar fair when you were younger, and it was therefore very integral you go Spring Street tonight. It was the exact opposite of what Wonwoo typically appreciated doing on Sundays, and he knew for a fact he’d loathe it, every single part.

“No fuckin’ way!” Vernon’s voice exploded through the crackly static on Wonwoo’s phone as he stood in line for the fair, gazing over top everyone’s heads to gauge the ticket booth. “I can’t believe your loser ass actually crawled outta bed for that.”

Wonwoo scoffed, “yeah, it wasn’t my choice.”

“Then what for?”

“Her. She wanted to go. It’s for the book.”

He was supposed to meet you inside the fair. It was almost ten o’clock at night. The sky was beautifully clear, illuminated with pinpricks of starlight, and the air had once been crisp. Now, Wonwoo was beginning to smell sparked cannabis, and he assumed a likewise scent would follow him all damn night. The horrid, anxious process of standing in the mile long line was made palatable through his conversation with Vernon, who—shockingly—wasn’t even there.

“Ohh, the book, the book. Wait—she’s gonna write her book at the fuckin’ Spring Street Fair? How the fuck does that work?”

“No, it’s not like that,” Wonwoo chuckled. “It’s stuff about the settings, the environment; she uses it to help with her writing.”

“Hm, doesn’t make much sense to me, probably ‘cause I don’t like readin' or writin' or anything with books. But, damn, I’m jealous of you, Glasses. Do y’know how hard I tried to smooth talk my way into that girl’s pants? N’somehow, you can write good—”

“Write well, not good.”

“Oh, fuck you—write well—so she takes you everywhere like a little purse dog. When does that happen to me, yeah?”

The line started slowly pouring forward, and Wonwoo felt himself get dragged along. Probably another five minutes and he would be at the ticket booth, getting one of those neon bracelets circled around his wrist that were nearly impossible to rip off.

“Why didn’t you come?” Wonwoo asked.

Vernon groaned, “got into some bullshit with this guy who’s not payin’ up. I’m handlin’ it, though. If I can manage to get it all sorted, I’ll come later. It’s too fuckin’ easy selling those gummies to the first years, dude. Shit, it could be some Flintstone vitamins and they’re actin’ like Chicken Little. Cracks me the fuck up.”

Wonwoo cleared his throat, smiling. “You’re such a cunt.”

“Hey, hey, you are what you eat, okay? And, when you get inside or whatever, text me where you’re hangin’ so if I do come, I can see you for a bit. Dunno if your girlfriend will approve.”

The air began mottling with a thin, chalky smoke that drifted from somewhere down the crowded string of university students. Again, the line shuffled, and the congestion gradually broke up as more people were allowed into the fair. Wonwoo switched the phone to his other ear, getting his wallet ready.

“Don’t even start.”

“Start what? I said nothin’.” Vernon’s laughter was raspy and obviously laced with a smirk that Wonwoo could hear.

“Don’t be such a prick. She’s not my—”

Suddenly, Wonwoo’s phone began vibrating against his palm, and when he pulled it down an immediate lump conjured in his throat upon reading your name. His heart jolted, and it wasn’t until someone pushed hard on his back to urge him forward that he realized the line was once again ambling closer to the ticket booth.

Vernon sighed, “so, again, tell me where you’ll—”

“Shit—uh, gotta go. Talk to you later.”

A few remnants of Vernon’s miffed, guttural cursing managed to leak through the phone before Wonwoo could press to accept your call. In an instant, his friend was blipped away, and he heard your voice instead. He held back a cough from the astringent, cottonish air.

“Wonwoo, hello. I’m glad you picked up. So, where the hell are you? It’s nearly ten! Did you not get in line early?”

Wonwoo kept the phone secured between his shoulder and ear while he shimmied the coins out from his wallet.

“No, I did, promise. Just about to pay. Where are you?”

“When you get in, just follow the arrows. They're lit up with those blue lightbulbs. They go to the tavern. I’m having some drinks with my friends. Don’t worry. You won’t have to do much socializing.”

“Uh, okay,” Wonwoo answered, internally counting up the money in his hand until he was certain of the amount. “Mingyu’s there?”

“No. He always plays poker with his friends on Sunday.”

An unbeknownst pressure escaped his chest.

“Okay. I’m close to the front. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sure. Don’t be late!”

“I know. Bye.”

Hanging up the phone, Wonwoo had just enough time to wriggle the device into his back pocket before handing the ticket booth clerk his coins. She dropped the cold change into his hand, then asked to see his wrist, where she proceeded to attach the bracelet with the words Spring Street Fair etched into the orange, plasticky-feeling paper.

Finally, he was let inside.

Blue arrows, blue arrows—that was all Wonwoo kept reiterating in his head like some religious hymn as he followed the glow throughout the fairgrounds, weaving his way between large groups of people that he gleefully didn’t recognize. Eventually, he saw the tavern you were referring to—an outdoor bar with picnic tables set up everywhere, beneath cheap little strings of warm, lambent lights.

Even with his glasses on, Wonwoo was still squinting as he walked between each table, attempting to discern your dolled-up face somewhere amongst the strangers sipping on their large mugs of alcohol, that was until he heard his name being called over the music rumbling from the bar’s horrible speakers. When he looked straight ahead, he saw you cutely waving him over. With each step he took, Wonwoo reminded himself to breathe, to loosen up, to stop clenching his fists so painfully tight as though he were going to split someone’s eyebrow. Breathe, breathe, breathe. Just breathe.

You stood up from the table to welcome him, and he felt your hand settle softly on his lower back. The touch was grounding.

“So, everyone, girls, if I could get your attention for just a moment despite the general impairment going on here—this is the mystery guy whose been helping me write. Wonwoo.”

God—he wanted to puke, all those big, curious, unabashed eyes soaking him in like freshly dipped watercolour to a cloth canvas. There was a cluster of high-pitched voices that repeated his name in a shrill, unison greeting. However, Wonwoo was unable to meet a single girl’s gaze, and so he opted to stare down at a paper plate on the table aligned with cinnamon-sprinkled churros.

Again, he wanted to throw up.

“So, of course, Wonwoo’s been the biggest help with everything,” you said, to which he could sense your nails subtly digging at him through his clothes, most likely a silent urge to say something so he didn’t seem so unprecedentedly stiff and metallic.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh, yeah. I’m just proofreading, really.” Wonwoo had to swallow. “Some tips here and there. But, she’s pretty good as is.”

“Is that your actual voice?”

His eyes darted to find who asked the question. She was toward the end of the picnic table, tucking a lock of short, coffee brown hair behind her ear. Before the girl was a gigantic and fluorescent pink drink, the glass resembling the shape of a fish bowl.

“… What do you mean?” Wonwoo replied.

She sat up on her knee, continuing to ogle him with those fixated but glazed chestnut eyes. Her mouth seemed to drag as though it was thawing when she spoke. Wonwoo could tell she was already well inebriated. There was no way that was her first drink.

“Your voice,” she repeated, “it’s so… deep.”

“Well… I don’t know. Puberty.”

His comment elicited some giggles from around the table, to which he could feel the cartilage in his ears burning.

“Wonwoo—” another girl then leaned forward with her head tilted up and a coy, drunk smile flittering on her mouth, “—I think it’s so, so great you’re helping Her write. I actually think it’s the sweetest, ever.” Her lashes were coated in smooth mascara and her eyelids were remarkably glimmery, drenched in an electric shade of blue that he couldn’t stop staring at. “Also, sorry, but you’re like, super gorge.”

“Super what?” He repeated, confused at her wording.

But she didn't seem interested in repeating herself, instead scooping the long and impressively silky black hair off her shoulder to spill down her pale back.

“Okay, okay, okay. We’ve all shared some impetuous conversation and we’ve all swooned over him now. Yippee. Unfortunately, we’ve gotta get going, friends.”

Wonwoo felt your hand land on his shoulder and gently tug him backward, away from the table. You then proceeded to grab the glass left at your seat, chugging the remaining alcohol until there was nothing but a melting block of ice cubes clicking at the bottom. While you wiped your mouth, you began aiming a finger at each girl.

“To make a long story short, that’s Princess, Clara, and Bells. Do you have any comments for them before we go?” The impatience in your tone was bleeding through with sheer apathy.

Wonwoo shrugged. “Uh, nice to meet everyone? I guess.”

“Short and efficient. How perfect. Okay, I’ll see you guys later, I think. Actually—probably not. So can someone eat my churros?”

Your arm curled around Wonwoo’s bicep as though to whisk him away as hurriedly as possible. Everyone left at the table began waving, and Wonwoo couldn’t even bring himself to force a fake, pleasant smile because he was still attempting to understand what all those comments even meant. You walked briskly until the poetic, firefly lights of the tavern were lost long behind in the distance, and when you finally paused, he had not a clue where he was standing—a busy centre with people mingling all around him, the wild whirring of carnival rides and chaotic, blinking hues strobing above his head.

When he looked down at you, he was surprised to see you were already staring back, and he could only hold the eye contact for no more than a few seconds or else his heart would skip a beat.

“Sorry about all that,” you said, rolling your shoulders, “I tried to be somewhat reasonable with my drinking for once. I can’t say the same for Clara and Bells. They guzzle cocktails like apple juice.”

“Bells is… the one with all that sparkly blue eyeshadow?”

“Oh—yeah. She loves sparkles. Glitter. Anything glimmery. She’s been like that ever since I’ve known her. Clara was the one who asked about your voice. She has a thing for guys with deep voices and you unfortunately fit the bill. And I’m sorry that Princess didn’t say anything. She kind of just looks and observes. Also I’m like ninety-eight percent sure she popped something in a porta-potty before we met up so she’s probably in a mental state of star-surfing. Anyway. You don’t have to worry about them, alright? It’s just us for tonight.”

 “Well, that’s… easy enough.”

“I’m not sure if we should stand here.”

“Hm?”

You then pointed to something behind Wonwoo, and when he turned his head, he felt a gust of wind from the gigantic, spinning ride that resembled a flying saucer in the nighttime sky. It was always beyond him why anyone would choose to strap themselves into a machine that terrifying. It made him sick just watching.

“If I get throw up on my head, I’m killing myself.”

“Okay, so let’s find somewhere else.”

As he began walking away in search of a quieter area, you grabbed onto the back of his clothes. Wonwoo raised his eyebrow.

“We have to hold hands, or have arms linked,” you said.

For some reason, Wonwoo presumed you were joking, and so he tilted his head at you with a questioning smile. But when your serious expression didn’t crack, he realized it wasn’t a joke at all.

“Oh… why?”

“Because—” you then took a step toward him and spoke matter-of-factly, like you were reading a rule book, “—it’s the buddy system. Always have someone at your side, and make sure you’re linked in some way. It’s too easy to get separated in places like this, otherwise. Have you never heard of that before?”

“I have,” Wonwoo answered, adjusting his glasses. “My—um, my hands are a little cold. I don’t have the best circulation.”

The truth was, Wonwoo didn’t want to hold your hand. He didn’t want to link arms with you. He didn’t want you pressed into his side all night. He didn’t want to have the scent of your hair under his nose or feel your ticklish breath against his neck each time you spoke.

But he didn’t have a good enough excuse to fight it.

“Oh my god, who cares,” you retorted. “And I have super sweaty hands. Like, uncomfortably warm. We'll balance out.”

 “Actually?”

“Yes! Is that a problem for you, sweetheart?”

Wonwoo quickly shook his head in response to your condescending tone. You then reached for his hand, which he offered up for your required holding, and chose to ignore the butterflies in the deep pit of his stomach when he realized how perfectly your fingers slotted with his. He followed your lead through the fair until you came outside a small lemonade booth. Wonwoo thought you would drop his hand, but you didn’t, and his knees felt like gelatine.

“I want another drink,” you told him.

He squinted at their options, which didn’t really consist of much. The prices were obviously insane—it was another reason he hated going to fairs. His wallet always got cleaned out.

“You’re going to have to use the washroom a lot.”

“Ugh,” you gritted in response, brushing some hair from your face, “I hate public washrooms. They’re so gross. Completely unsanitary. Awful maintenance. One time I was here and I walked into the washroom by the Mirror Hall and I swear, a freaking rat ran across the floor! I screamed bloody murder. I’d rather squat in the bush and risk getting, like, poison ivy. But the washrooms have mirrors obviously, and I like checking my makeup and stuff. I wish I could check now.”

“Right now? I mean, your makeup looks fine.”

Wonwoo saw your entire face freeze, and then begin to warp, as though he’d just said the most dreadful thing he could think of.

“Fine?” You glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He started stumbling over his words, feeling his chest tighten.

“So, what you’re saying is that I look ugly? That my makeup looks bad? Because if you really thought it was ‘fine’ then you wouldn’t have said it looks ‘fine’ because everyone knows that word is a substitute for passable and passable is just a substitute for ugly!”

He opened his mouth, then instantly closed it.

“So what’s wrong with it? Are my under eyes creasing? Is my contour too dark? Is my lipstick smudged? Did it get on my teeth? Ugh, I knew I should have brought my compact!”

“No, no, no.” Wonwoo squeezed your hand, hoping that he could somehow undo the damage he had no intention of even inflicting in the first place. “Uh—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. You look—” he wasn’t sure he could say the compliment without shivering, but Wonwoo didn’t care in the moment, “—your makeup is beautifully done. There’s no creasing or smudging, there’s none of that."

You kept touching worrisomely at your face. “Are you sure?”           

“I promise.” Wonwoo confirmed, giving your hand another tight, reassuring squeeze that seemed to calm you down.

He had never seen someone switch gears that quickly. You could be perfectly amicable one second, and then break down into near hysteria the next, a slew of anxious thoughts running straight from your brain to your mouth like clockwork.

Wonwoo wondered how Mingyu dealt with such tangents all the time. The trait almost didn’t seem to fit your image.

The line moved forward another step.

“Are you going to drink anything?” You asked after a moment of silence, in a quieter voice. “I want to get the strawberry refresher.”

“Maybe.”

“What will you get?”

“I… don’t know. A regular lemonade?”

“No,” you shook your head, pointing toward the corner of the booth’s menu, “get the pina colada thing. I want to try it, too.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo agreed with a shrug as he retrieved his wallet, not really caring about what he drank. “I’ll pay for it. No worries.”

The longer Wonwoo was at the fair, the less he actually thought about why he was there, until the question leapt into his mind at random while he stood beside you, waiting for a seat on the dauntingly large Farris wheel. He removed the straw from his mouth, swallowing a gulp of his pina colada flavoured drink, and peered down at you. His hand was still interlinked with yours. You had finished the strawberry refresher in about five minutes.

Now, you were texting someone. He didn’t know if it was a friend from earlier or perhaps your boyfriend, but Wonwoo wasn’t a serious sleuth, so he opted to look away despite the natural urge that was pricking him. When you finally tucked the phone back into the small bag slung around your shoulder, Wonwoo lowered the plastic cup from his mouth, making sure to clear his throat.

“So, uh, why are we here, exactly?”

You sniffled. “What do y’mean?”

“Does the fair have anything to do with your writing? Is that why we’re riding the Farris wheel? Oh—speaking of which, I didn’t think to bring the camcorder, in case you wanted any footage.”

“Oh, no,” you said, waving a dismissive hand, “this has nothing to do with my book. We’re palate cleansing.”

“Palate cleansing?” He echoed.

“Yeah. It’s like, doing something different in between a routine, to keep yourself fresh. You always eat breakfast at home but today you skip it and go out for brunch. Y’know, shit like that.”

Wonwoo huffed in amusement. “You could have told me beforehand.”

“Uh, no—” your face scrunched up in clear disagreement, “—I couldn’t, because then you wouldn’t have gone. No offence, but you’re a hermit, Wonwoo. You don’t really like going anywhere or doing anything and you’re definitely one of those people who bores themselves into hating their own life because your stimuli is so limited. That’s why I didn’t tell. Again, no offence.”

“Oh.”

That was all he could string together in response—not even string together, because it was just one boring, monotone sound that basically got carried away in the chilly wind, tinted with the smell of buttery popcorn and weed. It sounded like something that was supposed to sting, but it didn’t really. Maybe he was growing more accustomed to your unprompted judgements on his personal life.

Suddenly Wonwoo had blinked and you two were next in line for the empty cart. The clerk pointed at Wonwoo’s drink.

“You can’t bring that with you,” he said.

Before Wonwoo could think to respond, you had already grabbed the cup from his hand, chucking it straight into the garbage.

“We’re not.”

Pulling on his hand, you guided him into the shaky cart, both of you squishing onto the cold, metal bench. It was quite literally the tamest ride in the entire fair, and yet Wonwoo was still feeling nervous about it—though, that was possibly the fact he was going to be sailed one-hundred feet into the satin black sky, left amongst the stars and the bright, shimmering halo of the moon with you and you alone. He was actually relieved you had tossed his drink, otherwise he might have dropped it due to the trembling in his fingers. It was easier to fiddle with them in order to disguise their shakiness.

“I guess I should have asked if you’re afraid of heights,” you said.

The cart jerked abruptly as the ride began to move and lift you two ever so gradually from the ground. Wonwoo peered over the edge for a brief moment to watch his distance grow from the people below, their jumbled mess of conversations fading in place of quiet.

“Uh, no. I’m okay with heights,” he finally answered.

He saw you glancing down as well, smiling to yourself.

Wonwoo wasn’t sure if he should attempt at conversation or just maintain the stillness between you. Usually, he couldn’t stand it, and the pressure to talk and fill the silence always tended to fail or squander something potentially enjoyable. But he supposed it was typically like that in a situation where two people weren’t the best acquainted—that’s why Wonwoo always quite liked Vernon, despite his rough, nonconformed edges and often vulgar way of speaking.

He was able to carry a conversation so naturally that the quieter moments never felt suffocating, instead falling exactly where they should, like puzzle pieces. But that was harder with you.

Maybe it was because you could be intimidating, unpredictable—Wonwoo was never truly relaxed around you because there was this intangible, looming worry that he needed to have the perfect responses and be the most perfect person. He found that perfect people only hung out with other perfect people and Wonwoo was certainly not that—perfect. You must have seen it by now. He was just as rough as Vernon no doubt, but in a different, hidden way that had to be dug into like an archeologist looking for broken bones.

The Ferris wheel slowed down, coming to a stop. You weren’t at the very top, though the air was notably cooler and much fresher. When he inhaled a long breath, it smelled purely of night and not overpriced, buttery fair food and burning weed. He noted that you stared straight ahead, at the crescent-shaped moon, which mirrored a backward stare with how squarely it sat in front of the ride. For once, Wonwoo wasn’t squirming, wriggling, stressing at the silence. When he spoke, he did it because he genuinely wanted to.

“How was your Saturday?”

“My Saturday?”

“Yeah. I saw the schedule. You had to run a bunch of errands with your mom. Looked like you were pretty keyed up.”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I want to say I was overreacting the day before about how much I was dreading it. But then it fucking happened. And… I, uh… I realized I was exactly right. It was awful. I did get to your notes, though… yeah—I just—I squeezed them in between brunch with my mom’s friend who could talk herself to death and the excruciating car ride to the publisher’s office.”

“Mmhm.” Wonwoo smiled tenderly. “Did they help at all?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “a lot, actually… thank you.”

“I’m sorry your Saturday went so terribly.”

Huffing in response, you nibbled on your inner check.

“Yeah, well, it is what it is… I already knew it was gonna be a shit show. So, what is it that you write about, anyway? Because you seem like you know a whole lot. Seokmin says you let him read some of your poetry, but it was only like, two excerpts.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Wonwoo recalled the memory of Seokmin picking up his leather notebook when it fell out from his bag one day. He’d pestered him about the contents until Wonwoo succumbed and presented him with some lifeless, impatiently scribbled prose that he’d most likely jerked out on the bus or in between his lectures. Seokmin seemed to treat it like fine, prestigious gold, though Wonwoo knew it was the least personal of his work that he would never let another living soul on the planet breathe—not one scent of the ink or even the paper.

“So, you write poetry?”

“I started writing poetry, haikus and all that easy stuff. I developed the interest a lot more through high school. But I never sat down and tried writing anything like a novel until I... I started uni.”

“Yeah. Deciding to be a math major. I still don’t get it,” you sighed, fidgeting with some rings on your fingers. “But what do you even write about? Like, what’s your inspiration?”

Wonwoo paused, looking down at his knees.

“… Life.”

“Life?” You defeatedly slumped into the seat. “That’s the million dollar answer your intelligent brain chose to erect? It’s just that when I think about it, I’m letting you help me with my writing, but I’ve never even read a little smidgen of yours. How’s that fair?”

The higher the Farris Wheel climbed, the stronger the breeze blew, and Wonwoo could feel its tendrils lashing across his cheeks and parting through his hair. You huddled further into your jacket.

“Well, you took Seokmin’s word for it,” Wonwoo laughed.

Your eyes rolled, but you smiled gently. “I know.”

Suddenly, your hand had reached out, and you were pushing the floppy, black tresses off his forehead. Wonwoo’s fingers dug bluntly into his arms. You then angled yourself in the small cart, looking back at him, sculpting your gaze to each crest in his face.

“Why don’t you ever push your hair back?”

The question hit the dark, cold atmosphere like a sizzling ember and Wonwoo was afraid to even open his mouth because he was certain a dying squeak would come out. You continued to play around with the locks, earthing your fingers deep into its texture and attempting to style it despite the persistent, fluttering breeze.

“Um…”

“If you styled it like this—” you moved in closer, staring with so much focus at your nimble movements, “—yeah, like that. It shows off your forehead, gives you a bit of class. I mean, the wind’s messing it up. You don’t tend to do anything with your hair.”

“No.” Wonwoo swallowed, hard.

“Well, you should. Not all the time, obviously. And I’m not saying you look bad with it down—not at all. But you’ve got nice, smouldering features and they’re so much more… framed… when you show your forehead.” You collapsed back into the seat, and that tingly feeling he experienced when your fingers had been tugging and pulling was disseminating throughout his entire body. “I mean, look at how my friends reacted to you. I should apologize for that again, by the way. O-M-F-G, they see one hot guy, and they lose their grip.”

He nearly choked. “Hot?”

It didn’t sound right. Not at all.

“Well, what the fuck, Wonwoo? You’re not ugly.”

“Did you think that when you first saw me?”

You had folded your leg again as the Farris wheel came to another stop. This time, at the very top, at the centre of the night.

“Did I think what? That you’re not ugly?”

“Never mind,” Wonwoo grimaced, hearing the cart creek as you better positioned yourself to face him. “It’s pathetic like that.”

“No. I didn’t think you were ugly. Did you think I was ugly?”

Wonwoo wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the question, but he smothered it down because he knew one little laugh might hit your ear the wrong way, and it would be flames, sputtering and spewing. Obviously, he didn’t think you were ugly—he never had, even before he ever spoke to you. But he wasn’t so shallow as to only regard someone’s physical appearance. You were still terrifying.

“I wouldn’t consider anyone ugly... and I wouldn’t ever use it to describe some aesthetically. But—I mean, I think people can become ugly through their personality, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, like, if they’re rotten inside.”

“Mmhm.”

“I agree.”

“What was that word your friend Bells said?”

You shrugged, “which word?”

“She said something like, you’re super… I don’t know… super something.”

“Oh—” you sat up more in the cart, your back pressed against the uncomfortable corner, “—Bells said you were super gorge.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning super gorgeous.” You made a big show of the rehashed compliment, parroting your friend's tone and swaying your shoulders.

“Oh… really?” Wonwoo shook his head. “I thought she was referring to gorge as in when you gorge yourself, from eating.”

“No,” you giggled at him, “it’s a short form, dumb-dumb.”

“Why make a short form out of that? Is it really that strenuous to say the word gorgeous? It’s only an extra syllable.”

“Okay, well, this isn’t the nineteen-twenties. We don’t all cross our T’s and dot our I’s. It reminds me of how you text.”

He furrowed his brow. “How do I text?”

Your eyes rolled frivolously. “I dunno. Like you’re typing to a business colleague or something. You’re so formal. When I think of you texting, I imagine it’s like someone using a typewriter. And that funny little ding sound it makes whenever you start a new line.”

“Oh.”

“What—no one’s ever told you that before? No way.”

“That I text like I’m using a fucking typewriter? No, actually. I can’t say I’ve heard that.”

“Well, it’s not a big deal. You’re just not very plugged into the internet, I suppose. Which is a good thing. It gives you prestige.”

At that, Wonwoo chuckled. “Does it?”

“Yes,” you smiled, eyes full of starlight, “and—just ignore Bells, okay? She was being kind of weird but that can be fully attributed to those three shots I told her not to take.”

“Hm.”

You continued to stare at him with a plotting smile.

“Hm what? What’s the matter?” The metal of the cart squeaked as you leaned forward, your voice suddenly lathered in mischief. “Did you think she was cute?” He heard your tone drop, and your low, smooth voice breathing hot against his ear. “Did you think about fucking her, Wonwoo?”

“No—what the fuck—not at all.” Quickly, he’d pushed you away and off his shoulder, to which you retreated into the corner with a giggle that should have made his skin crawl, but didn’t.

“Well, how would I know?” You answered, tilting your head and stretching out your arms high into the blackness, as though you were trying to reach for a star. “I never know, because you never look at me. It makes me think you just lied and you do think I’m ugly.”

Wonwoo glanced over the edge of the cart, at the almost nauseating distance between himself and the fairgrounds, covered with miniature, bustling people that seemed like breadcrumbs by comparison to their place in the sky. He didn’t want to sink into this conversation. Besides, how was he supposed to look at you when your fingers were just gliding through his hair and your lips were whispering close enough to brush up against his ear? How was he supposed to act composed? Normal?

“Hey, Wonwoo?” Your fingers snapped.

But he just kept thinking. Like he was cut from a separate cloth than you—the fabric of his universe wasn’t woven with yours and he could ruminate as much as he wanted to and it was impossible to hear your intrusions. Why couldn’t he look at you?

You intimidated him, yes. You scared him, double yes.

He already knew that. It couldn’t just be that.

“Wonwoo? God… you shut down over the simplest things.”

“I don’t know.”

You paused, staring him up and down, perplexed.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know why I can’t look at you.”

There was a lasting silence between you. Wonwoo felt like he might throw up for acknowledging the fact out loud, and his fist tightened in his lap as though to ground himself—to remember where he was and to breathe slowly, because having a panic attack on top of a stupid Ferris Wheel was the last place it should happen. He hadn’t even realized that you’d shifted closer, one leg curled beneath you while you spoke at the side of his head. But he didn’t hear you, couldn’t see you—there was a harsh void inside him that sounded like suctioning air and static. His fingernail was pressing so deeply into the flesh of his pale skin that it was beginning to faintly bleed.

And—all of a sudden—there were these hands cautiously gripping onto his face, pulling him toward you. He kept staring at the movement of your soft lips, focusing on their pronunciation until everything flooded back in one overwhelming whirl and it felt like being slammed by a freight train.

Wonwoo then grabbed onto your bare knee as a crutch. He didn’t mean to. But you didn’t seem to care.

“—everything okay? Wonwoo? Do I need to like, call someone? Because you look like you’re going to be sick.”

He heaved in a gaping breath, feeling how cold the midnight air was in the thinning atmosphere that encompassed him. It was soothing, akin to a hand massaging along his back.

“Wonwoo?” You repeated his name, sounding awfully scared.

Pulling off his glasses, he rubbed at his eyes. He blurrily saw you touch the spot on your knee where his hand had buried into.

“Sorry,” he then coughed through the heartbeat raspy in his throat, bringing the glasses back to his face, “I spaced out.”

“Spaced out?” You echoed. “That wasn’t spacing out.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

He thought you fight might it.

“Well…” you sighed, glancing around uncertainly, “are you okay? Is there someone you want to call? I don’t know.”

But you didn’t. Thank God.

“No, I’m—” he stopped, gulping back the words.

“… Yeah?” There was a softer intrigue in your cadence.

Wonwoo looked at you. Fully this time. He looked straight into your eyes that were like a glossy, moonlit ocean, detailed with swirling riptides of surprise and apprehensiveness, but also immense depth that seemed genuinely appreciative of his gesture.

“I’m fine.”

And then he watched you nod, smile, and in return study his cavern eyes with the same intensity and wonder. It was such a peculiar experience, staring at you, understanding a little more of your truth, your gentleness.

He didn’t feel as scared.

—MAY 16TH.

Wonwoo had been standing before the mirror in his washroom for the past half-hour or so, primarily just staring, examining, and pulling at the long, limp fronds of his hair. There was a point in his life when he legitimately put effort into styling it, and all his old hair products were still sitting in the cabinet. Though, his ex-girlfriend had tended to help him with it most days, because he found the strands were just too thick and stubborn to work with.

However, since the Spring Street Fair, Wonwoo hadn’t been able to shake those comments you made—about how nicely his face could be framed and the smouldering nature of his features. He would never think to describe himself that way as it seemed particularly pompous and kind of foolish, but hearing you say it was different. The thing was, Wonwoo had no idea where to start, and attempting to rummage his fingers through his hair just didn’t feel as stimulating or electric compared to your meticulous, sweet touch.

In the midst of opening his cabinet for a comb, Wonwoo heard his phone vibrate. He looked down at the sink, seeing the screen brighten with a text notification from Vernon.

[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: hey Glasses

[ Vernon | 12:54 pm ]: Solar Pop at 2?

Wonwoo thought about it for a moment, running his thumb down the spine of the comb to hear the little thwip. And then he sighed in decision, texting back a thumbs up. It’s not like he was working later, and as much as Wonwoo would love to believe that today might be the day he made actual progress on his own story, he knew it was just wishful thinking. In reality he’d waste ample time staring into the document, pondering all the scenes and emotions and nuances he could write rather than moving to write anything at all.

Besides, he hadn’t eaten yet today. The thought of a juicy, sauce-slathered, bun-toasted burger being his first meal prompted the boy’s face to sallow greenly with sickness, but the longer he stood in the washroom, combing and slicking and running styling balm through the black bird’s nest on his head, Wonwoo felt the hunger start to bite like an emaciated, starved dog. He left his apartment knowing he would be somewhat late, but Vernon was always later.

And while Wonwoo sat in one of the booths at Solar Pop, flicking the laminated menu back and forth despite knowing the exact order he was going to place, he thought about sending Vernon another text to ask where the hell he even was. Wonwoo could only sip his slippery glass of coke for so long until the waitress decided he was crazy and had been one-hundred percent stood up.

“Hey, fuck, I’m here.”

2:24 pm—that’s when Vernon finally arrived, sliding himself into the leather bench opposite to Wonwoo while tossing his big, metallic clump of keys onto the table. The boy then proceeded to shimmy off his black jacket, propping his elbows onto the table.

If Vernon ever pulled a tardy stunt like that with you, Wonwoo imagined his friend would probably get stuffed into one of those boxes for sawing people in half. Except it wouldn’t be magic.

“Did you get pulled over or something? Police raid? Traffic stop?” Wonwoo asked, now resting his menu down flat.

Vernon laughed, shaking his head. “Uh, no. Couldn’t find my fuckin’ car keys,” he spoke in a breathless voice. “Sorry ‘bout it.”

“Couldn’t find them?” Wonwoo almost scoffed at the excuse while his friend began scouring his way through the menu. “Dude, they’re the fucking size of a bowling ball. How could you lose them?”

“Okay, okay. Fuckin’ skin me alive, why don’t you?”

“You didn’t come from your place, I’m guessing.”

At that, Vernon began to grin, the metal on his pierced lip glinting underneath a ray of sunlight through the blinds. He was still occupied with choosing which burger he wanted. Wonwoo picked the same choice every time. Vernon always tried something different.

“No, I didn’t,” he rasped, flashing his sharp teeth and flipping the menu over, “but when Maleeha Rabia sends you a text at goddamn one in the morning of her tits, you don’t roll over n’ go to bed like some loser. Besides, my ecstasy was just sittin’ around and I had to use it one way or another. Anyway, doesn’t fuckin’ matter. I think I’ll get the Double Bacon Crunch Burger. Sounds good as hell.”

Finally, Vernon threw the menu down with conviction.

“Jesus Christ—” his copper-burnt eyes then flared open as he looked across the table at his friend, “—who the fuck are you?”

Wonwoo itched his nose. “Um, what?”

Vernon leaned forward, seeming captivated. “Uh, your fuckin’ hair? How’d you get it like that? It’s all brushed over and soft lookin’ and shit. I feel like I shouldn’t be sittin’ with you, Prince Charmin’.”

“I just put some balm in it, combed it around,” he answered, reaching for his drink. “Took me a humiliating amount of time.”

“Well, consider me starstruck. What’s made you do all that?”

Before Wonwoo could answer, the waitress returned to the table with her small notepad and shiny pen. Vernon pitched his order first, and Wonwoo followed, asking for the regular quarter-pounder with a side of hot crinkle-cut fries. Once she whisked the menus away and promised to grab Vernon’s root beer float, Wonwoo realized he still had to answer his friend’s question. He didn’t exactly want to tell the truth, because he knew Vernon would never let him hear the end of it, but Wonwoo also didn’t want to be too dishonest.

“Your face is doin’ that thing.”

“What thing?” Wonwoo answered, swallowing his sip of soda.

Vernon crossed his arms on the table, accenting the canvas of darkly-inked tattoos needled into his skin. He shook his head.

“It’s ‘cause of your little girlyfriend, isn’t it?”

Fuck. Wonwoo should have just opened his mouth straight away and spieled out some quick-witted lie. Now he would be painfully subject to Vernon’s unfiltered teasing. Leaning back in his seat, Wonwoo unearthed a miserable sigh at Vernon’s smirk.

“You’ve gotta drop that bullshit.”

“It’s true,” Vernon pressured.

“No, it’s not.”

As though to interpret Wonwoo’s steadfastness as a challenge, Vernon leaned further over the table, dropping his voice but still smiling devilishly through every word he mimicked between his teeth.

“Oh, Wonwoo, your hair looks so fucking sexy like that. It makes you look so perfect. You’re from my dreams. Please, just fuck me right here, right now so I can push my fingers through it ‘cause it’s so soft and silky and I’m basically in love with you.”

“Shut the fuck up. Please.”

“That was a good impression, though, wasn’t it?”

In the loud space of Wonwoo’s disgusted silence, the waitress placed Vernon’s drink onto the table and ensured the food would be coming soon. Vernon watched her walk away, back into the kitchen.

“Hey,” he then grinned in capitulating fashion, “take a stupid joke, alright? I know she’s not in love with you and she doesn’t wanna suck your dick—she’s got a fuckin’ boyfriend. If it makes you feel any better, I’m just projectin’ ‘cause you know I’m jealous.”

Wonwoo sucked in a sip from his coke, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing to be jealous of.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Vernon dismissed, poking his spoon at the near perfect scoop of vanilla ice cream afloat in the frosty mug, “but just so y’know, your mopey ass left me out to dry on Sunday night. Shoved me off the phone, didn’t respond to one of my texts. You’re lucky I even asked you t’hang today. Did she take your phone or something’?”

Shit. When Vernon said it like that, Wonwoo seemed like a terrible friend. Maybe he did deserve a deal of teasing. But at the same time, Wonwoo knew how easy it was for your attitude to flip and he hadn’t been at all interested in starting the night with hostility.

“Okay, fair.” He admitted, rolling up his sleeves.

“And?” Vernon raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“I’m sorry.”

“There you fuckin’ go. That’s all I wanted t’hear, Glasses.”

The truth was, Wonwoo actually quite enjoyed his time with you that night—despite the transient, bickering hiccups and his nearly faltering panic attack, he had fun. Actual fun. Of course, as soon as your ride ended on the Ferris wheel, you’d clutched onto his hand like a snake sinking in its fangs and dragged him throughout the entirety of the fair to find a washroom. Nonetheless, he really loved playing some carnival games with you, like skee ball and the water pistol. He was even able to win you a pink stuffed bear that you had carried close to the chest for the remainder of your time at the fair.

Wonwoo thought he could spend another night like that with you again. Just to get out of his apartment, to feel exhilaration in the pit of his stomach, to laugh until his lungs dried out, to hold your warm, comforting hand in his even when it became too clammy or inconvenient because otherwise you would scold him for letting go.

“Food’s on the way,” Vernon perked up like a child about to be served a slice of birthday cake as the waitress walked over with two full plates, “if you can’t finish yours, I’ll take it.”

“Yeah—how about you focus on chewing and not choking to death first,” Wonwoo sighed, watching his friend’s metaphorical tail wag.

Once she set the food down, inquiring about any refills, and left while flashing her perfected customer service smile, Vernon grabbed the burger with both his hands, taking a gigantic, succulent bite that somehow didn’t singe the roof of his mouth. Wonwoo winced, instead going for his crisped, golden fries.  

“Damn. You’re really that hungry?”

“I’m ravenous,” Vernon mumbled, picking up a few caramelized onions that fell onto his plate. “Dude, I woke up at noon in Maleeha’s bed. She was out cold. Nothin’ in her pantry but some stale fuckin’ Fruit Loops that I may have tried. I’m a grown ass man. I need a meal.”

“I’m glad you’re so proactive," Wonwoo answered, sinking his burning hot fry into the small side-bowl of ketchup.

It took them less than half an hour to clean their plates. Wonwoo tended to eat at a slower pace, with smaller, more savoury bites, while Vernon sloppily devoured his entire burger and gobbled down his fries with the occasional dipping into the root beer float’s ice cream. They scarcely talked in between, too focused on eating and drinking. Wonwoo pushed away his plate when he’d finished and proceeded to wipe off his salty, crumb-speckled fingers with a napkin, meanwhile Vernon took a moment to sink backward into the leather seat, placing a hand over his full, satiated stomach.

“Hey, do y’think they have any Life Savers?” He eventually piped up while sticking a toothpick into his mouth. “I want grape.”

Wonwoo scoffed, tossing the napkin onto his plate and taking out his phone. “Who the fuck likes grape?”

“Me, you smartass,” Vernon answered, turning backward in his seat and scanning the restaurant for any colourful candy bowls.

He couldn’t deny that he was hoping to see a text from you, but there was nothing, and his chest dropped. Wonwoo decided to open the schedule you had made, curious as to what you were even doing today—work until five o’clock, and then you were going out for supper with some friends at Terra Cotta.

He thought about texting you. His thumbs kept hovering above the keyboard in contemplation, even though he knew for certain he wouldn’t text anything. He would just stare and hope.

“Holy shit. Uh, oh my God. Wonwoo. I-I see—”

Vernon had suddenly reached a hand onto the table, slapping the lacquered wood a few times to garner his attention.

“What?” He mumbled in agitation, keeping his focus glued to the phone. “If you see the Life Savers just go up and take some. I swear, they’re not gonna fucking care you’re not twelve years old.”

“No, no, no, dumbass,” Vernon hissed, turning back around in the booth, his honey eyes glistering in oils of dread and panic. “Look, actually look. That’s Mingyu, isn’t it?”

Immediately, Wonwoo clicked off his phone, instead squinting into the distant corner of the restaurant where a notably tall, black-haired boy with tanned, amber skin had emerged from a doorway, standing in a somehow casual but imposing way that only be Mingyu.

It must be Mingyu, and that fact became glaringly obvious when Wonwoo made the unintentional, floundering mistake of staring straight into the boy’s wandering and earthen brown eyes.

“Oh my fuckin’ God, oh my fuckin’ God,” Vernon kept reiterating under his breath, bouncing his knee like an anxious student waiting for their test. “He definitely saw us. Or—he definitely saw you. This is so bad, man. I think he’s gonna rock me.”

“What?” Wonwoo whispered back harshly, attempting to float his gaze away from Mingyu in a casual manner. “For what reason?”

It seemed like Vernon almost wanted to gag at him. “Um—because of what fuckin’ happened between me n’ his girl! At that party? I told you about that shit, didn’t I?” He rasped from across the table, his bottom lip worried between biting teeth. “Dude, what if he tries to pull a fast one? You’re what—like six foot something? You have to help back me up. I can throw a pretty solid punch—even better when I’m shit-faced—but that might not be enough. Lady Liberty’s built like a brick.”

“Okay, you’re acting crazy,” Wonwoo uttered in disbelief. “I doubt he’s going to be anything but physical, especially in a public place. And, you said you didn’t know Her was in a relationship.”

“How the fuck do I know he knows that? Can’t exactly use my infectious charm on someone whose girlfriend I tried to rail.”

Vernon somehow dared to spare another rapid glance over his shoulder, only to shed an entire mould of colour from his complexion.

“He’s coming, he’s—”

“Shut up and relax,” Wonwoo mumbled. “I’m sure it’s nothing big—he’ll say a thing or two and be on his way. God, I’ll handle it.”

For some reason, Wonwoo thought he should be sinking into consternation a lot more than he actually was, but it’s not that his chest wasn’t thumping or his mind wasn’t spinning amuck with worry. It was more so that he was managing the whirlwind, as best he could, as much as he could manage. Mingyu wasn’t a complete stranger, and all their past interactions had been boringly cordial or even forgettable. Nonetheless, Wonwoo would still prefer to avoid the boy because that made his life simpler in the grand scheme of anxiety.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” Mingyu approached the table with a confident, leisurely stride, extending his large hand for Wonwoo to grab, exchanging a dap. “I almost didn’t recognize you for a sec.”

“All good,” Wonwoo answered, attempting a polite grin that felt much more sweltering on the inside than out. “How’ve you been?”

Mingyu shrugged, burying his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants while he gazed at the slitted curtains for a moment, pondering his reply. “Decent. Playing a lot of basketball. I don’t think I’ve seen you since I came to the pharmacy. You still there?”

“Still there.”

“Well, at least I haven’t had to come in for a fuckin’ pregnancy test yet. That’s good I suppose, yeah?” The boy chuckled, then tilting his head a certain way to crack a stiff spot in his neck.

“Aisle five if you ever need it.”

Mingyu responded with a smirk that perhaps lasted a second too long, and these slimming, analyzing eyes—a gaze that Wonwoo felt ripple in his gut. He chose to believe it was nothing dire, or else he would spiral right there on the spot and lose all fine-tuned control.

Meanwhile Vernon had been sitting quietly the entire time, most likely hoping he would remain in the dark, skulking shadows outside Wonwoo’s spotlight. But he must not have been hoping hard enough, because Mingyu proceeded to smile at him, again extending his hand for another dap, which Vernon yielded apprehensively.

“You’re a pretty recognizable guy, unfortunately,” Mingyu acknowledged with a husky laugh—a clear reference to the boy’s identifying tattoos and numerous facial piercings, “I think you deal to at least a third of my friends. It’s Vernon, right?”

“Mmhm. Yes sir.” To Vernon’s luck, he had a well-polished and gleaming smile that made it impossible for him to seem disingenuous, though Wonwoo knew he was wilting inside.

“I’m sorry about Dots.”

“Oh, uh. All good. It is what it is, y’know?”

Mingyu nodded.

“Hey—those tattoos are crazy good. Where’d you get them?”

Vernon looked across his arm. “Thanks. Mostly Liquid Impact—dude there that I call Funfetti ‘cause he eats Funfetti box cake all the time. Uh, but his actual name’s like, Axel or some white-boy shit like that. He’s done a majority of it. The others—man, I don’t know. Half the time I’m off my fuckin’ face and wake up with shit I never remember.”

“Oh, yeah?” Mingyu sniffed, running a hand through his long, shiny onyx locks of hair. “Guess you also don’t remember promising my girlfriend the best sex of her life, right?”

At that, Vernon looked straight to Wonwoo, and Wonwoo returned the enlarged, incinerating stare straight back, reading the split-second terror that swam like flopping fish in Vernon’s eyes. The atmosphere hit the ground with a palpable and ugly shatter.

“Yeah, um—about that—”

Mingyu then balanced backward on his foot for a moment, beginning to chuckle, sway his head, as though to dismiss the entire accusation in the same intense breadth it was mentioned.

“Nah, nah. I’m playing around,” the boy chuckled, rubbing at his nose. “You didn’t know she was taken. No hard feelings, yeah?”

Vernon immediately nodded his agreement, and the tension nailed into his broad shoulder line seemed to melt. “For sure. No hard feelings. I mean, she’s beautiful. Can’t even imagine what it’s like bein’ her boyfriend when you’ve got sluts like me around.”

Mingyu grinned, “no, you’re good. I know she gave you some attitude about it. Bit of a troublemaker herself. But, yeah. Water under the bridge.” The boy’s attention then turned back to Wonwoo, who was more than eager to somehow extinguish the conversation from you as a topic. “I know she’s hangs out with you right now.”

“Oh, yeah,” Wonwoo hummed, “the book thing.”

“She doesn’t like talking to me about it.”

“Well, don’t stress,” he answered, catching the sunlight that blitzed through the curtains and dipped like a gold paintbrush into the boy’s eyes, turning them to warm molasses, “she’ll show you the whole damn thing when it’s over and done with.”

Mingyu huffed, “I thought she’d have dropped it by now.”

“I don’t think she will. She’s pretty committed.”

“Hm.” He nodded simply in response, kissing his teeth.

Vernon folded his arms, leaning back into the leather seat with the toothpick again sitting in his mouth. “You got any plans for the summer, then? Doesn’t your pal always throw a huge party?”

“Yeah, actually. Doing it this year if we can manage. Seungcheol’s parents pretty much spend their entire summer bouncing around all the Great Lakes. We’re gonna do a co-hosting type deal and—shit, since you’re here, this is really good timing.” Mingyu then looked down at Vernon and lowered his gravelly voice. “I know what your main gig is. What about blow? You sell it?”

A slow but gradual, catlike grin trudged the edges of Vernon’s mouth, to which he pulled out his toothpick and set his elbows onto the table. “Look, can’t chop it up here, man. Ask one of your friends for my burner. I can get you to the ski slope, but it costs, obviously.”

“Nah, that’s fine. It’s just—my last plug fell through.”

“Tough.”

“Yeah. Okay, well, I should get going. I’ll follow up with you later. Do you care if Seungcheol knows the number, too?”

“No,” Vernon shrugged, planting the toothpick into the corner of his mouth and flicking it with his tongue, “just don’t go throwin’ it around. I could only get enough for a couple people, anyway.”

“All good. Okay—later, guys.”

Mingyu stepped away from the table with a wave and a flash of his pearled, charming smile, nothing but the mild scent of his fresh and expensive-smelling cologne to swirl through the now vacant space. In true espionage fashion, Wonwoo and Vernon both picked open the slots between the restaurant curtains, cautiously observing the boy’s stride into the parking lot and onto the sidewalk, where he at last disappeared into the warm, sunny afternoon.

Heaving a gigantic exhausted breath, Wonwoo took off his glasses and set them in his lap, massaging deep into his eye sockets.

“Y’know, he’s not that fuckin’ bad,” Vernon commented, “I mean, he scares the shit outta me, but that could have gone worse.”

"Jesus Christ—I can’t believe what I just watched.”

His friend laughed, banging his fist excitedly enough on the table to engender the silverware clattering on their plates. “Ha! I know, right? Dude—Seungcheol and Mingyu are the kingpins of that fuckin’ university you go to. They can cough up the big bucks for that shit. Just imagine the distribution pay I'm gonna get with them on my roster—actually, that couldn’t have gone better.”

“And where are you gonna get it?” Wonwoo pressured, at last settling his glasses back on, clarifying Vernon’s smudged, blurry face.

“Well, let me fuck around and work my magic.”

“I don’t want him to use you.”

“Pfft. I don’t give no fucks about being used,” Vernon cackled, wearing a self-indulgent, luminous smile and continuing to play around with the toothpick while he readied his wallet to pay. “You know what you should worry about, Glasses? Sweet talkin’ the fuck outta that dude’s girl and securin' yourself an invite. You probably don’t even need to try sweet talkin’—she obviously likes you.”

“No,” Wonwoo grumbled, “no way.”

“You don’t want to go?”

“Why would I want to go, dumbass? The last time I went to a party, I ran into you. They’re loud and suffocating. I’ll pass.” Wonwoo also pulled out his wallet, taking his card. “Besides, I get the sense Mingyu doesn’t trust me a whole lot. I’m not gonna stir the pot.”

Vernon shook his head. “You stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglin’ at Spring Street. N’yeah, exactly. You met me. I don’t get the fuss.”

“It’s nothing like that," Wonwoo answered in frustration.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re a Patron Saint. I just want my Life Saver.”

—MAY 19TH.

Wonwoo was going to your apartment today for the first time, and it had nearly killed him in the process.

His abhorrent sleep schedule hung over his head every single instance he woke up at lunchtime, the entirety of his mornings wasted to weathered heartbreak and its lasting, stained consequences. Needing to be at your apartment for ten had Wonwoo buckling his face into anguished hands the night before, wondering how he was going to pull off such a triumph without wishing for death.  

He did know one thing for certain—the sound of his alarm erupting into its timely, strident beeping made him instantly sick. In fact, the first thing Wonwoo did was half-stumble in complete bleariness out from his bed, dragging a white sheet along by his ankle as he burst into the washroom and hung his head over the toilet like he was sweating through a wicked hangover. But it wasn’t alcohol. It was months of bad, soul-stitched habit festered up in stomach bile and perhaps, a hatred for himself. It was his own fault, in a way.

And yet, when you texted him a half-hour later to reconfirm your address, Wonwoo replied with not the slightest hint that he was feeling pretty fucking terrible. The headache and shudders followed him down the street, onto the bus, and into the lobby of your notably opulent apartment complex. He felt rather incongruous amongst all the marble—the white trim, the clean, untainted air, even the breakfast table with dispensable lemon water and small, fruit-topped pastries that somehow made Wonwoo want to kill himself.

He looked down at his phone.

[ Her | 9:10 am ]: 717 thorton street, unit 61

[ Her | 9:45 am ]: are you almost here? :)

Wonwoo pressed the button to the elevator.

[ Wonwoo | 9:50 am ]: Yes. In the building.

His phone vibrated immediately with a text.

[ Her | 9:50 am ]: I’m so excited

The doors pulled apart. Wonwoo stepped aside for a couple who were leaving the elevator before he entered. Quickly, he clicked the button to close the doors, not wanting to share the space with anyone but himself and the headache throbbing at the forefront of his cranium. He sighed, glancing at his texts again to reply.

[ Wonwoo | 9:51 am ]: Do you have any Tylenol?

[ Her | 9:51 am ]: most def

[ Her | 9:51 am ]: what’s wrong?

[ Wonwoo | 9:52 am ]: Nothing much. Just a headache.

When he didn’t receive an immediate answer, he assumed you had put the phone down to search your medicine cabinet. Getting off the elevator, Wonwoo proceeded to find the correct apartment. He put his fist up to the door, and then, at the last second, stopped.

There it was again—the same melting pot of anxiety and butterflies that had bubbled up when you first visited his place.

He supposed the feelings never truly disappeared each time he would see you, and he was beginning to detest it. Why couldn’t his body just adapt? Get over it? What purpose did it serve to constantly remind him of his unkempt emotions? It was like the idea of you terrified him more than you as an actual person, because in person, he felt comfort, as crazy as it sounded. So why couldn’t his anxiety and security just complete that stupid sliver of a synapse for once?

Knock knock.

After a moment, the handle clicked, and the door to sumptuous unit 61 was pulled open. For the first time, Wonwoo saw your face without any makeup, and it sort of made him stutter in his words—not that he was shocked in abhorrence at the contrast, more so the vulnerability behind it, the fact you felt comfortable enough to shed your compulsion with always presenting a perfect, glamoured face. He was pleased to see you were in a fuzzy pair of pink shorts and a white, thin long-sleeve that were basically pyjamas.

Maybe it was weird to think, but you seemed more human.

“You made good timing. I’m impressed.”

“Thanks,” Wonwoo answered while stepping inside, toeing off his sneakers next to your plethora of shoes at the doormat.

“I would obviously say tour first, but I have your Tylenol sitting on the counter over here, for your headache. Can you dry swallow or do you need water?”

“Dry swallow?” Wonwoo laughed, following you toward the kitchen area. “Who the fuck dry swallows any sort of pill?”

“I don’t know! Personally, I don’t. But there are some freaks out there who do. I was actually testing you. And you passed.”

“Lucky me,” he sighed.

Taking a seat at one of stools displayed around the large, granite-surface island, Wonwoo waited for you to pour him some water. Obviously, the apartment was spacious, gorgeous—the large, white-fluffed rug in the centre of the living room was definitely suited to you, though he was surprised by the tall, lush potted plants aligned by the window panelling. He didn’t know you had a green thumb.

While placing down the water, you shifted closely into the seat beside him, and Wonwoo could smell the scent of strawberries on your skin. You let your chin press into the hammock made with your hands, watching as he set the pill on his tongue and gulped it down.

“So, is it really bad?”

Wonwoo turned the glass back and forth atop its coaster, deciding on whether or not he should tell the truth. It always tended to sting him when he lied, and so he turned to you, shrugging.

“I felt it when I woke up. But it’s manageable.”

“Oh, I get that sometimes.”

“It’s because of my repulsive sleep schedule, no doubt.”

You smiled at him, adjusting your leg under the island.

“Is that why you prefer afternoons all the time?”

“Pretty much. It’s a horrible habit. I’ll break it somehow, I’m sure. Just a stupid hump to get over. Anyway—” Wonwoo slung the laptop bag off his shoulder and onto the counter, “—your place looks pretty sweet. How are you? What’s the plan for today?”

“Well,” you hummed, slapping an arm down onto the reflective granite, “I’ve wrote some more this week. I’d love for you to proofread it. Maybe we can go out for lunch later, but you’d need to give me time to get ready. I mean, I did shower this morning…”

He watched you pause, and then swallow. "You don’t care, do you?”

“About what?” Wonwoo answered.

“Oh, well—never mind, then.”

“No, what is it? What don’t I care about?”

You started to grin, hiding half your face with a hand that slowly scraped across your cheek, as though to rub off any remaining lethargy from the morning light. Wonwoo waited for you to answer.

“… I look like a mole.”

He at last realized what you meant.

“No, you don’t.”

“I was just feeling lazy. I know, gasp, what an insane word to come from my mouth. But I’m glad you don’t care. I didn’t think you would, but I still wasn’t sure. At least your reaction wasn’t obvious. My chin is breaking out so please don’t stare at it, if you can help it.”

“Oh, well, you know, you look—” that one banished word almost slipped, but Wonwoo smoothly mended the break, “you—you have nothing to worry about. I get breakouts, too. It sucks, but it’s life.”

Your bare, soft face turned cheerful in a fawning smile.

“I know. I guess I'm just not very used to the feeling of people seeing me like this. Did you want to do lunch later?”

Wonwoo leaned back in the small seat, running his hands up his knees, knowing damn well he hadn’t eaten breakfast.

“Uh, I should probably start with like, cereal or something.”

“You didn’t eat?”

“No appetite.”

“I’ll fix you something. Unfortunately, no cereal. But I'll get some the next time Mingyu and I do groceries. So, what do you like best? Toast? Oatmeal? Scrambled eggs and toast? Orange juice? Bagel?”

At the mere mention of orange juice, his fist clenched. Attempting not to dwell so obviously, Wonwoo straightened up and smiled.

“I like toast.”

“That’s good. It’ll be easy on your stomach.”

Wonwoo watched you squeeze off the stool and open the fridge to pull out a plastic bag of bread. He watched you stand on your tiptoes to reach into the highest cupboard and grab a plate. He watched you pop open a jar of fresh raspberry jam and slot the bread into the toaster. He could watch you do anything, it seemed.

Anything at all.

It took Wonwoo about half an hour to eat his raspberry toast and skim through the newest additions to your document. You were getting more into the thick of your relationship with Mingyu—just as you’d warned—but Wonwoo was able to gloss most cloying paragraphs without too much bitterness or personal weight clouding his possible critiques. Wonwoo was still seated at the island, meanwhile you were lying face down on the plump-cushioned couch, an arm dangling off the side. In a morbid way, you looked very much dead if not for the shallow rising and dipping of your back.

“Done, for the most part.”

Your head perked up, and he was relieved to see you hadn’t fallen asleep or suffocated. “When will you add your notes?”

“After lunch. Is that okay?”

“Mmhm.”

“So…” Wonwoo slid down in the chair, reaching out his arms with a gigantic yawn, “you actually snuck into his basketball game?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, letting your chin snuggle into the blanket strewn underneath you, “I was obsessed with him. I couldn’t help it.”

“I wouldn’t expect your first date to be at the nature museum. The way you wrote about the butterfly exhibit was nice, though.”

“It was fun. Mingyu wasn’t the biggest fan, but I had always wanted to go. There was this huge skeleton of a blue whale, and sometimes the museum would play the whale’s ballad—” you flopped onto your back, staring up at the ceiling with a tender, ardent laugh as your fingers twirled the fluffy knots of the throw, “—it used to scare Mingyu so bad. He kept telling me he was gonna leave our date unless we went to another exhibit.”

“The sound can be pretty jarring if you’ve never heard it before, to be fair,” Wonwoo reasoned, now massaging down his legs.

Shoving your body to sit upright on the couch, you poked out your tongue at him, grinning, “don’t defend his loserness.”

He huffed in response, “my bad.”

“Should we do a tour now? I really want to show you my room. And if I keep lying on the couch, I’ll fall asleep.”

“Uh, sure. Do you want me to wash my plate?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Just leave it in the sink.”

After Wonwoo cleaned off the granite island, he came to join you in the living room, the white rug resembling what he imagined a cloud to feel like underneath his socked feet.

A thought had suddenly popped into his head.

“There’s a nature museum here, too.”

You grabbed the blanket, wearing it like a shawl around your shoulders. Wonwoo had never seen you so sleepy before.

“I know.”

“Have you ever gone?”

“No. Not at all. I did ask Mingyu once when we first came here for university. But I think he was still mortified from the whale thing. I dunno. Anyway, is that your round-about way of asking if I ever want to go? Because I would, to help with the story.”

Wonwoo scratched along his collarbone, heated with the itch of being blatantly exposed for his plotting. However, he hadn’t suggested the museum with the intention of employing it as a visual to sharpen up your scene-work. He was hoping to go just for the sake of it—like a palate cleanser, as you had previously mentioned.

But he obviously wasn’t going to articulate that.

“We can plan it more later,” he said.

The tour started in the living room, which Wonwoo had become well acquainted with throughout his half hour of sitting at the kitchen island, occasionally flicking his eyes toward the couch to ensure you were still alive. You explained that the pristine white rug was a housewarming gift from Mingyu’s parents when you first moved into the apartment, and he felt guilty for even stepping on it.

He decided to ask about the plants by the windows.

“Oh, I don’t actually look after those,” you answered, touching at one of the heavy and balmy-looking green leaves from a plant nearly as tall as you, “Seokmin comes over to water them and stuff, gives them special nutrient food—even sprays their leaves with this misty bottle thing. I tried giving them all to him, but he says he’s got no space at his apartment—which is total bull by the way.”

“Maybe he just wants an excuse to see you.”

“Yeah,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “doesn’t everyone?”

Wonwoo bit back a stupid little smile as he followed you into your bedroom—the place you seemed most enthralled for him to finally see. You twirled into the open space and threw the blanket off your shoulders, then whipping your hands into the air akin to a magician who’d just performed the most grandiose magic trick.

“Tada! Bedroom reveal!”

He pushed up his glasses, taking a good, solid look around at everything he could: the prestigious makeup vanity with the drawers left half-open, your dresser, lined with photographs of what he assumed to be friends, family, and Mingyu, the beaded, dangling chandelier, the ajar closet doors that revealed your unsurprising magnitude of outfits—skirts and dresses and professional blazers and lascivious things from threads of lace and silk. He finally looked to your beautiful bed, which you proceeded to flop onto.

“This is my favourite part,” you hummed.

Taking some further steps into the bedroom, Wonwoo began recognizing smaller details, though he couldn’t explain what he was feeling. He always thought a bedroom was such a personal, intimate space, like a treasure chest stuffed with memories and pieces of person’s essence that couldn’t be captured using words alone. To sit on someone’s bed, or sift through their drawers for a pen, or even grab a shirt from their closet—he felt it was all so… sacred. It was the reason he had such a hard time having others in his bedroom.

“The bed is your favourite?” He wondered.

“Yes,” you giggled, a glimmer flashing into your eyes like diamonds in the sun as you climbed onto your knees.

Before Wonwoo knew what was happening, you had clutched a hand into his shirt and jerked him toward the covers. He landed beside you, and his heart thrust with electricity.

“You could have just asked me to sit,” he chuckled, wiping some wrinkles off his shirt and adjusting his glasses.

“Nope.”

“Bed’s comfy.”

“Duh,” you sunk backward, smirking at him, “it’s a bed.”

“Hey, you should have seen the bed I had growing up in Changwon. My older brother and I, we hated it. Shit was like sleeping on a piece of cardboard. It didn’t get better for years.”

Propping your head onto a pillow, you continued to smile prettily at him with those entrancing eyes, and for a second, this piercing fear struck in the core of Wonwoo’s chest that he had just spoke about himself—actually spoke about himself—in a manner that screamed of vulnerability. He felt terror. Why did he do that?

“Hm. I guess I’m just spoiled, with my memory foam and all.”

At least you didn’t push into the topic. You were getting better at that, almost like you could interpret the subtle tweaks in his face or the stiffening of his bones. Wonwoo rested his elbows on his knees.

“Your room’s nice. It smells like you.”

He heard you giggle, “what? Like strawberries?”

Wonwoo pursed his lip, looked down at his fingers. “Yeah…”

For a moment, his eyes lingered unfaithfully on your exposed midriff, down to the fluffy hem of those pink lounge shorts. He squeezed his wrist tight, practically stopping his own blood flow, willing himself not to think anything unhinged that would simmer up to fuel his self-hatred later. The longer your head spent sinking into that plump pillow, the more your lids fluttered with sleep. As he continued to gaze about the room, he spotted the pink stuffed bear that he’d won you at the Spring Street Fair, sitting atop your bedside table.

“You’ve still got that?”

“Hm?” You pushed up onto your elbows, yawning. “Oh, yeah! ‘Course I still have her. It’s a perfect little memento from that night.”

“Well, I did go through a lot of effort to win it.”

“Oh, I’m aware... wanna know what I named her?”

“What?”

“Miss Priss.”

Honestly, Wonwoo was surprised you hadn’t stuffed it into your closet or abandoned the toy in some innocuous corner of your apartment. Instead the bear’s vibrant pink face and slightly lopsided eyes were staring him down, making him rerun Vernon’s words in his head: ‘you stir the pot every time you hang out with his girl to go write romantic poetry and run around, gigglin’ at Spring Street.’

Wonwoo immediately shoved the memory aside, letting the implications sizzle up and burn on the hot coals of his brain.

“Hm. Funny.”

You rolled your eyes.

Wonwoo tapped his wrist, thinking.

“So, uh, I hope you don’t mind me asking this, but why don’t you live with Mingyu? I know he stays over some nights.”

Lifting yourself up with one arm, you shrugged, opting to stroke a hand along the blanket to smooth out some crinkles. “I don’t want to move in with anyone unless I’m engaged.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah. I mean, that's what I told my parents, at least. They used to really push for us to have an apartment together. Which makes sense. They freaking love him. I swear, more than me," you laughed, picking at your shirt. "I get it, too. Mingyu and I have pretty much been tied at the hip all these years. But we agreed that we wouldn't live together until things went to the next level. He does keep a lot of his stuff here for when he does stay over, and vice versa. He’s got an extra key and everything, his own nightstand, bathroom stuff.”

“And that’s for certain?”

You tilted your head. “What’s for certain?”

“The engagement thing. Or was it just to shake off your parents?”

“Well… I guess I mean it. Is that weird to you?”

“No,” Wonwoo said. “I personally haven't heard it plenty.”

“Yeah, most people are surprised to learn we don’t live together. I guess we really give off the impression that we're together in most things, if not everything. It's good to get a little space, though."

“Well, I understand it—wanting to have your own space. I mean, I think everyone should try living alone, just once if they have to. You learn more about yourself, I suppose.”

You cracked a smile at him. “What have you learned?”

Wonwoo chuckled, knowing all the things he could never say were tingling right on the tip of his tongue. “Well, I meant in a general sense. I wasn't exactly talking about myself.”

“Ha—you learned how to be a hermit.”

“I'm pretty sure I was always like that.”

“Yeah, but probably not that bad.”

“That bad?” He furrowed his dark brows at you, staring straight into your eyes that twinkled with challenge. “Meaning what?”

“Please, you would not leave that apartment if it wasn’t for your commitment to the book. Maybe for work, some groceries every now and then. Otherwise, your ass is not leaving.”

“Damn. Just call me a loser.”

“Fine,” you huffed, pushing up onto your knees, “loser.”

Wonwoo managed to hold the penetrating, spirited strength of your gaze, and he was proud of himself for doing so, even if his heart felt like it was going to leap into his throat. It was still difficult for him to be routinely engaged in eye contact, but he knew how much you appreciated it—the feeling of being listened to and experiencing someone’s dedication to presenting their full attention.

Since it was getting close to lunch time, Wonwoo figured you might want to start thinking of where to eat. He was getting notably hungry, and having to function off some toast coated thinly in raspberry jam wouldn’t be enough to power him throughout his proofreading. He pulled out his phone, wanting to check the time, and began sliding off your comfortable, warm bed.

“Did you want to—”

“Hey, wait, wait, wait—” Wonwoo felt your hand curl around his bicep in a firm grip and begin to pull him back down, “—before we get up and everything, I want to talk to you about something.”

Oh no.

His stomach writhed.

Wonwoo started praying it wasn’t about his and Vernon’s encounter with Mingyu at Solar Pop—not that anything particularly terrible or concerning had happened—but maybe Mingyu had mentioned something to you. Maybe he didn’t like Wonwoo and thought it was best you stop writing together, stop seeing each other.

His mind started quivering with a steadfast hurricane of awful thought and Wonwoo knew the flushed colour had most likely drained from his face as quickly as a popped balloon.

Your hand remained on his bicep, squeezing it.

“Why do you look so worried, already?” You chuckled in a quiet voice, rubbing his arm until Wonwoo visibly relaxed. “I haven’t even said anything yet. Unless, you think I should be worried, too.”

“No.” Wonwoo shook his head. “Just—never mind.”

“Hm, well, that’s kind of what I want to talk about.”

As your hand drifted off his arm, Wonwoo sat crossed-legged, narrowing his eyes at you in question. “What do you mean?”

The conversation began with a clunk of silence, to which you glanced down at the bed for a moment, clearly biting on your inner cheek in contemplation. Wonwoo desperately wanted you to spit it out. He hated when empty words hung so burdensomely in the air.

“Well… there’s no easy way to bring it up. And I’m not sure you’ll even want to talk about it with me, but I keep noticing it, again and again. I think it’s at least worth it to put it on the table. And, if it’s not my business, you can freely tell me to screw off.”

“Oh… okay.”

And then you were looking at him, not with any sort of accusation or anger or even disappointment. Somehow, Wonwoo knew what you were going to say, and he braced himself for it.

“Do you… do you have anxiety?”

Wonwoo said nothing. He wasn’t sure if it was an issue of not wanting to speak or being unable to.

You breathed out heavily in response.

“Okay, silence, I definitely saw that coming—but, um, I’m not stupid, you know? Your face just gets so pale, and I feel like I can see the heartbeat in your chest… and you always do that thing with your fist. Clenching it. It always looks so painful but you never seem to care and—anyway—I just… I can tell when it happens and it kind of bothers me that you try to like, shrug it off or call it ‘spacing out’ when it’s really clearly not. And, maybe that’s my fault.”

His gaze had shifted to lock with yours.

Again, you weren’t staring at him with any malice or dejection—he’d come to learn that your eyes were actually quite soft most of the time, soft but always glittering, like a handful of silk. Still, Wonwoo couldn’t yet find his words, which must have come across as remarkably shocking for someone who spent their whole life grabbing all the shiny bits of possible vernacular.

You sat up straighter, touching his knee.

“Is it my fault you don’t want to talk about it? Can I at least know that much?” There was an imploring desperation in your face.

Wonwoo at last cleared his throat.

“I don’t talk about it with anyone.”

“Okay, I get that. But, did I make you feel like you couldn’t bring it up? At all?” Your fingers dug a little harder into his knee, though Wonwoo knew you probably hadn’t realized it. “I just—I do want to know, actually. Because sometimes I let myself get in the way of being present for other people. But I care. I honestly do.”

He nodded, cracking his knuckles.

“I mean… I definitely wouldn’t have thought to bring it up with you. I guess I felt like, if I did, what would it accomplish? You might think I’m incapable or… I don’t know.” He shoved his hands underneath his glasses, rubbing at the indents on his nose. “As you can see, I’m not the best at talking about it. I don’t talk about it.”

You folded your legs in similar fashion to Wonwoo.

“Well… um… do you… is there anyone that could, like… I don’t know what I’m saying. I guess, are you coping alright, is what I’m asking. I really don’t mean to overstep. I swear.”

At that, he chuckled quite loudly. Your face twitched in surprise at his reaction, and the hand slipped off his knee.

“It really doesn’t matter. I just deal with it.”

No. He took nothing. He did nothing. Wonwoo just sat and suffered and felt no initiative to help himself. At that point, he really didn’t want to dissect the topic any further. He could sense the slithering under his skin, the way his body physically bristled like a perturbed cat at the thought of having to be any more open than what he'd already shared. The choices he made in his life weren’t important if he was going to end up back in the same slippery trench.

“Oh. Well, I hope you take care of yourself,” you said with a smile, giving his bicep another gentle squeeze. “That’s all.”

—JUNE 2ND.

About two weeks had passed since Wonwoo visited your apartment. Afterward, you had met up four times to continue writing and making small ventures to places that you deemed vital for developing your story. Wonwoo found himself enjoying most trips.

He remembered the ice cream shop. Apparently, it was the date where Mingyu had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. You had gotten their most popular strawberry cheesecake flavour while Wonwoo ordered mint chocolate chip, which was a rather boring but favourite classic of his. No doubt, you sat across from him on their outside patio the entire time, pitting remarks about how awful his choice was in lieu of writing anything down in your document. With every spoonful he ate, Wonwoo had to keep reminding you to stay focused, and eventually, his repetitious ordering worked.

"Did you actually come here to get any writing done or did you just want the ice cream? We're not palate-cleansing are we?"

"Why can't two things be true at once?"

“Can I see your laptop?”

“No—hey! Don’t try to grab it!”

“Why? Because you’ve written fuck all?”

"For your information, I have a bullet-point list going."

"Oh, yeah. A bullet-point list, hm?"

"Yes. It has all my major writing points. Point number one: Mingyu seats me down at the table. He's clearly nervous. We've only been in the shop for a minute or two and he won't stop brushing his hair behind his ears. Point number two: Mingyu grabs our ice cream from the counter. He gives me his flavour, rocky road, by accident, and then we awkwardly laugh and switch. Point number three: I remember thinking his nerves were endearing, and—"

"Okay, okay. I get it."

"Exactly. Let this be a lesson in poor assumption. Don't try to assume anything about me, Wonwoo. It's probably wrong."

And then there had been the journey to Mooney’s Bay, one of the most well-known beaches outside the city—probably because the lake actually looked a clean, salty blue and the soft sand wasn’t littered with drifting pieces of plastic. It had been the first place Wonwoo took his brother when he came to visit from his office in Korea, and the picture they had taken together with their pant legs cuffed up, standing knee deep in the water, was still pinned to the corkboard in Wonwoo’s bedroom. However, Wonwoo hadn’t been back to the beach since, until you dragged him there in an hour-long car ride. He had mostly looked out the window, thinking, as always.

You said that Mooney’s Bay reminded you of a cove from your hometown, a more clandestine one, where you and Mingyu used to splash around in the isolated, iridescent waters at night, laughing into the chilled breeze and coughing up all the liquid splatted into the other’s face. Wonwoo had used the video camera to record some footage of the beach per your request. By evening, most people had packed up their coolers and umbrellas and sun towels, granting him more freedom to film wider, panned shots. He remembered standing at the foam shoreline, feeling the sand squelch wetly under his bare feet, recording you wading further and deeper into the water that reflected like a bleeding, scarlet portrait of stained glass.

“It feels amazing! You should come in!”

“I can’t. It’ll ruin the camcorder.”

“So put it down! In the bag! There’s enough footage.”

“But the sun is setting behind you. It makes for a good shot.”

"So just hurry up! The water is the perfect temperature."

"But—"

“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.”

"Well, I don't know... I, uh—I can't swim."

"This isn't swimming, this is wading. Just go up to your knees. It's been a hot, long day. I think this will help get the scowl off your face."

“… Fine. At least give me a second to fix my pants.”

The third location, while not his favourite, had been an open bar that was conveniently placed a few streets over from his job at the pharmacy. Wonwoo had went there a number of times with Vernon in the past, usually after he finished a midterm or handed in some grating assignment, though Vernon tended to drink more than his body could sufficiently handle. By the end of the night, Wonwoo would most often find himself being a mediator between his tattooed, foul-mouthed friend and whatever blundering, equally drunk idiot he happened to be arguing with.

It was too much for his anxiety.

Nonetheless, he’d met you there after work despite the churning cauldron of memories that he harboured, unsurprised to find you seated at a small table swarmed with dewy drinks and shots that interested observers had sent over. Wonwoo felt each digging, plying stare that sculpted against his back as he sat beside you—he even choked down one of your retched tequila shots (while not the best idea), hoping it would mellow him out.

You never really explained why the bar was pertinent to your history with Mingyu—or, maybe you had, and Wonwoo was simply one flaming shot past coherent of properly digesting your words. He did, however, remember your entire, almost scientific explanation of why you liked wearing low-cut or heavily revealing tops at the bar, and Wonwoo had listened along as best he could manage, even when that floating sensation started hazing through his mind. At one point, this girl who Wonwoo had never encountered once in his life came up to him with a polite tap on his shoulder and an inquiring smile.

“Hey—sorry to intrude—and this may be a super dumb question, but you are guys together?”

“No, no. Not at all. I’ve got a boyfriend. He’s single.”

“Oh, perfect. I was just—I was sitting over there, in the corner with my friends, if you can see. Anyways—I said something dumb about how you were really good looking, and now I’ve been dared to come up and ask for your number. So, um, yeah…”

“No, I’m good. Thank you.”

“O-Oh. Wait… are you… being serious?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Sorry. This is really fucking embarrassing… uh, I guess I won’t linger then. Bye.”

“… Jeez… had a bit much to drink or something?”

“No—just don’t like giving out my number to strangers.”

“She was cute, though. Probably a fun one-night stand.”

“Then you have sex with her, yeah?”

“Ha! You’re so funny. When’s the last time you even had sex? I mean, you obviously pull. At least, I think you do…”

“I don’t remember. Months and months ago, I guess.”

“Wow! Zero play. I kind of respect it. I could never, though. So… actually, let me guess: you’re the type of person that can’t have sex without attachment? You need to be in love?”

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just asking.”

“I don’t know.”

“God. You’re so fucking boring, Wonwoo.”

“Because I don’t go out of my way to find some pretty girl to have sex with every week, I’m boring? How does that make sense?”

“No, not that. I mean the fact you never really want to discuss anything about yourself. Honestly, sometimes talking to you is like pulling teeth, y’know? Anyway, move back a little. Backwards cap with the earrings has been staring on and off for the last ten minutes and I want one more free shot before I call it a night.”

The most recent place you had been together was the popular drive-in at Richmond’s Farm. Wonwoo knew that in the autumn months leading up to Halloween, the venue was turned into a haunted carnival with all the typical attractions: pumpkin patches, horror movie screenings, corn mazes, and masked, fake blood-spattered psychopaths chasing people around with a roaring chainsaw.

Seokmin, despite being quite weak-stomached and completely disastrous when it came to anything horror-related, had actually implored Wonwoo to go the year before after hearing the raves about their newest House of Nightmares, although Wonwoo declined in order to study for a test.

Really, there was no test.

Wonwoo just hadn’t been in the mood for losing all his hair and being crammed into pitch black, narrow corridors with a murderer promptly waiting around the corner. He hoped Seokmin wouldn’t ask him again this year—then his excuse would be obvious.

In the spring and summer, however, the farm mostly broadcast screenings at their drive-in theatre behind the maize field, and you had leaped at the opportunity to go because it was the perfect chance to relive one of your favourite dates with Mingyu. By your explanation, he’d taken you to see Crazy, Stupid, Love before you two had departed your hometown for university. But the drive-in obviously wasn’t playing that movie, and so you two had to settle for watching their only available screening, 500 Days of Summer.

Wonwoo hated that movie.

Of course, he hadn’t told you that.

Before the movie had started, Wonwoo helped you throw down a blanket into your trunk alongside some couch pillows that you grabbed from your apartment, creating a makeshift lounge in the rear of the car. Since the screening was late at night—and way past your typical good girl bedtime—you were worried about falling asleep halfway into the movie, though Wonwoo promised he would keep an eye on you to ensure you wouldn’t miss anything important.

Since it was too dark to film anything of quality on the camcorder, Wonwoo left you alone in the blanket-pillow trunk to scribble down any nostalgic, limerent sentiments while he grabbed some snacks. You had told him to get gummy bears, because you hated the way broken pieces of popcorn kernel shells would sliver between your teeth and dig into your gums, neither did you want a soft drink since it would be an abundance of sugar before bed, and it always resulted in a breakout the next morning. He was able to make it back to the car just before the screening started.

He remembered how strange it all seemed, sitting so close to you underneath the blanket, occasionally feeling your elbow dig into his arm or your knee bump his thigh, and the sharp blip it would cause in his pulse. Wonwoo remembered how often you complained about the temperature throughout the movie—first, it’s too hot, now, it’s too cold, you’re too close to me, you’re too far away and I’m cold again, I need the blanket, I don’t want the blanket—Wonwoo hadn’t realized a person’s body temperature could fluctuate that drastically. 

However, the worst part of that night happened about half an hour before the movie ended, just when Wonwoo was beginning to feel relieved about going home. You were getting sleepier by the minute, and Wonwoo could tell from the yawning every now and then, wanting desperately to rub at your eyes but refusing because it would smother the mascara into somewhat concerning, black whorls.

You had nudged his arm, and when he glanced over at your face, exhausted and half-illuminated under the watery, bright cast of light from the screen, you asked him in a quiet, dulcet voice: “is it okay if I rest my head on your shoulder for a few minutes?”

Wonwoo had wanted to say no—of course you can’t, because if you do, I will sit here stiff, and hardly breathing, and listening only to my own heartbeat. It will be the sole thing I’ll think about for the next three days no matter what I do to mask the memory. I’ll keep thinking about it until you burn out in my mind like a star.

But then Wonwoo had agreed instead.

He proceeded to clench his fist upon feeling the weight of your head sink softly to his shoulder. Your legs had been curled up underneath you, and your knees were then pressing flush against his leg. Every breath he inhaled was faintly tainted with the scent of your sweet, fragrant shampoo and it was fucking killing him.

“You’re so tense,” you had whispered in a giggle, “if it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t have to. It’s just because I’m tired.”

“No—” it had come out somewhat like a blurt, and Wonwoo just knew the tips of his ears were tingling red, “—it’s okay. I promise.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure… what?”

“Just wanted to look in your eyes when you said it.”

“Fuck, not that again.”

“I have to know!”

“Okay, that’s fine. Movie’s almost over, anyway. Just don’t fall asleep because then I really won’t know what to do.”

That had been four days ago.

Now, it was almost midnight. Wonwoo was sitting on the roof of his apartment with a messily rolled up blunt in his fingers—the second one he prepared, mostly out of impatience—drawing in a slow and deep breath that ghosted from his lips like wispy fog flowing down a shallow hill. He then coughed twice by his elbow, attempting to clear the stinging prickle that caught against his throat.

“You’re so fucking full of it,” Wonwoo laughed.

“No! I’m not.”

“You did not write thirty pages in a day.”

“Uh—actually, I did! And the fact you don’t believe me is a testament to your own wilted motivation. I am very motivated.”

He smiled at the sound of your voice crackling through his phone, which he’d been holding with the latter hand. Breathing in another hit, Wonwoo pulled at the sides of his black beanie, grinning through the thin cloud that was exhaled in a quick, neat puff.

“Okay, you wrote thirty pages. Didn’t have to fucking drag my career through the mud in doing so. I mean, I guess it’s a hobby.”

“For all I know, you’re the biggest poser that ever posed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I still don’t know what you write about.”

“I told you.”

“No—you fucking didn’t. You said something vague and ambiguous that could have meant literally anything. All I had to go off were some sing-songy praises from Seokmin.”

“I give you pretty good notes, though.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“So I must be decent.”

“I don’t even know why I bothered calling you. I was supposed to be in bed, like, an hour ago. You’re such a distraction.”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo laughed, tapping the warm blunt to knock off a clump of papery ash, “it’s been an hour already?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I don’t know why you called either.”

“To complain about that lady whose makeup I had to do today! She was horrible. God, were you not listening?!”

“No, no, I was. She told you the makeup she wanted, you said it wouldn’t suit her too well, and then she got all pissed off when it looked exactly how you said it would. That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh. Well… I just thought you should know about it.”

“Mmhm.”

Silence followed his velvet, almost teasing hum, but Wonwoo didn’t mind it, and he assumed you didn’t either. Your phone call had been completely out of the blue, only a few minutes after he’d climbed onto the roof and started sparking his lighter. An hour had already passed—Wonwoo couldn’t believe it. Time had never seemed so blurred and insignificant before, like tomorrow didn’t exist at all.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

Wonwoo repositioned the phone in his hand.

“From time to time, yeah.”

“What strain?”

“Northern Lights.”

“I’ve never had that one. I mean, I’m not much of a stoner, and neither is Mingyu. I don’t like the way it feels in my throat—that dry, burning feeling. And I hate the cotton mouth afterward.”

“Shouldn’t be that bad if you’re inhaling it right.”

“Well, maybe you can teach me one day.”

He let the blunt hang from the corner of his mouth for a moment, a very fluttery-feeling smile taking shape. Not wanting you to hear that slight bit of giddiness in his tone, Wonwoo took another hit, holding the smoke in for longer than usual before exhaling.

“Do you, uh… do you still want to go to that museum?”

“Oh—the nature museum?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll have to do some poking around in my schedule. I have this stupid leadership council meeting for SSA that I have to go to.”

“That’s fine. Text me when you figure it out.”

“Okay… gosh, it’s really fucking late.”

“Yeah, you should get some sleep.”

“Are you pushing me off the phone? If anything, I should be the one pushing. You’re not doing anything to fix your terrible sleep schedule. And I certainly don’t want you to ruin mine.”

“That’s what I’m saying—you need to get some sleep.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have said it like that.”

“How did I say it?”

“Like you were pushing me off the phone!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. How ‘bout this: I know how important structure is to you, and I am deeply concerned that this late night conversation we’re having may somewhat affect your sleep. And while I’ve thoroughly enjoyed talking to you and hearing your pretty voice through my shitty phone speaker, I think we should both go to bed.”

“That seems fair.”

“Great. So, goodnight then.”

“No! I want to be the first one to say goodnight.”

“Why?”

“Because, I say goodnight, then you say goodnight back, and then I get to be the one who hangs up first. It’s a courtesy thing.”

“Uh, okay then... I’m listening.”

“Goodnight!”

Wonwoo smiled. He smiled so fucking widely and brightly that he could feel the muscles in his face aching.

“Goodnight.”

—JUNE 7TH.

Since the quickest route to the nature museum was about half an hour from Wonwoo’s apartment, he suggested that you stop by around lunch time so that you two could make the walk together. It wasn’t too warm outside—the large smattering of clouds dotted in the sky and the typical city breeze helped to keep the temperature down.

“We’re not allowed to film in the museum,” you said from your seat at his small dinner table, “so don’t bother taking the camcorder, I guess. I’ll just try to soak up everything as best I can.”

Wonwoo was sat across from you, waiting for you to finish the heated-up carton box of creamy mushroom pasta that you’d raided out his freezer. He’d tried his best to eat beforehand as well, but the most he could stomach was some milk and cereal in addition a handful of blueberries. It was still better than his usual routine, which involved skipping any sort of meal post lunchtime.

“If you really needed to, I’m sure you could take a couple pictures,” Wonwoo answered, brushing a hand through his styled, pristine black hair that you had earlier littered with a flustering spiel of compliments. “I doubt the exhibits will be exactly the same, but if it's more so to capture the feeling, then it won’t matter much.”

You patted the corner of your mouth upon finishing the last few noodles left in the box, nodding your head in agreement.

“My journal’s in my bag. It should be fine.”

Wonwoo flipped over his phone to check the time.

“How was the SSA meeting yesterday?”

“Oh—I didn’t go.”

“Really?” Wonwoo asked while settling back in his chair, watching you toss the fork into the carton. “How come?”

“Because, it’s mostly pointless. We always sit there, in front of all those old, crusty men, trying to explain to them how we can improve the campus, the student experience, blah blah. And they act like they’re legitimately consuming our input, using phrases like: ‘oh, we hear you, we understand, we’re gonna try our hardest’—just for them to put, what? Another fucking seating area in the dining hall that no one asked for or cares about? It’s totally ridiculous.”

“Hm, yeah.”

“Anyways, I hate being on it. I hate going. I understand it looks good and whatnot, but it’s a huge waste of my time.”

Wonwoo picked up the pasta box, continuing to hum his agreement while taking it into the kitchen. He dropped the fork into the sink and folded up the cardboard to stuff into his recycling.

“It’s one meeting. A skip won’t kill you, or them.”

“That’s what I’m saying. Mingyu thinks I went, though. So, if you run into him or something and the topic fucking miraculously pops up—just don’t give anything away. It’s a little white lie.”

Coming back to the dining table, Wonwoo snatched up his wallet and shoved it into his back pocket, raising an eyebrow.

“Why wouldn’t you tell him?”

You pushed back in the chair, sighing heavily.

“He really thinks I should stick with it.”

Wonwoo didn’t say anything in response. He simply nodded, not wanting to hover on Mingyu as a conversation piece for too long, and waited for you to shoulder on your purse.

“Okay,” you then smiled, “let’s go look at some nature.”

Despite their boring, lacklustre reputation, Wonwoo had always enjoyed going to museums—art, history, science—he’d even been to a museum that delved into ancient coin minting and the development of currency. He supposed it was his appreciation for learning new information of his own free will, unlike the fast-paced, passion-draining, wringer system that was university. Furthermore, he was surprised that you would share his interest in the matter.

“Why wouldn’t I like museums?” You had stopped just before the acclaimed beetle species wall, aglow behind a glass sheet. “I wrote in my draft that Mingyu and I went to a nature museum, remember?”

“I know. I’m just surprised you have that much of an interest in them. Your life seems so upbeat. I didn’t think you would be into something that most people find fairly dry and anticlimactic.”

“Right.” Twirling back around, you continued walking down the corridor, your eyes tracing the organized arrangement of lustre-shelled beetles. “Because everyone else is too stupid and you’re the true upper echelon who actually possesses the mental capability required to appreciate something as seemingly trivial but totally enriching as…” you then paused at the glass, squinting to read the embossed label below an oblong-shaped beetle with an iridescent green shell, “… as the Chrysochroa Fulgidissima? I don’t know, something like that—also known as the Jewel Beetle. Its species is native to Japan and Korea. It’s a… woodboring beetle?”

“Why would I know?” Wonwoo laughed, coming to stand beside you and look at the plaque settled to the white background behind the display glass. “You’re the one reading it.”

“Ugh—doesn’t matter. I was going somewhere with my speech and now I forget… oh, yeah! So, you think you’re smarter than me?”

Placing a gentle hand on your lower back, Wonwoo urged you to keep walking forward in order to let the people faintly mumbling behind you examine the wall, who seemed much more interested.

“I never said that,” he answered softly.

“Okay—but, do you think you’re smarter?”

“In what sense?”

“Did you take the Frontiers evaluation for calculus?”

“Yes.”

“What’d you score?”

“9.8.”

“Shut the fuck up! No you didn’t.”

Wonwoo merely tapped the black-framed glasses further up his nose, smirking slightly, and began shaking his head while continuing down the exhibit. You hurried after him, remembering to lower your voice to match the collective quietness.

“Prove it,” you whispered.

“Go to prof Bradbrook’s office. My name’s on her wall.”

“I hate you.”

“Why? What did you score?”

“I’m obviously not going to say it now.”

Wonwoo still remembered the day his test score came back—he’d opened the envelope in Miss Bradbrook’s office, and while she sat across from him, practically squirming and jittering with anticipation, Wonwoo had glossed over the paper slip with the smallest, most low effort smile. He knew he was supposed to feel relieved in that moment—overjoyed probably—to realize his notable success and the upstanding conformation he was legitimately good at something. But in truth, he hadn’t really felt anything at all. He sort of just smiled. That was it. That was all he could muster.

And his life had mirrored that moment ever since. In the past, it would come and go. Yet, that day, it just stuck. The only time he ever experienced any glint or sparkle of happiness, it had come from his girlfriend—but even she couldn’t imbue much from him that day.

“Well, that’s not what I expected you to ask.”

You glanced over at him, adjusting the bag on your arm.

“Meaning?”

“There are different types of intelligence. I thought you meant, in a more general sense, am I smarter, or more knowledgeable. To be honest, I can’t say. I mean, I feel like I’ve experienced and seen a whole lot, but that’s just life’s illusion.”

“You won’t really know ‘til you’re on your death bed.”

Wonwoo returned your glance, squinching his brown eyes in a judgemental but innocuous way that gave bloom to his smile.

“Thanks.”

“I can’t help it. Museums make me think of death. I think it’s the really cold, still air. Especially in nature museums where they need to preserve things. Like, look at that fox. It’s a bit ominous.”

On the exhibit to his right, Wonwoo observed another display protected by glass. There was a fox, with a rusty, auburn coloured coat, poised atop a fake precipice of grass. Wonwoo knew what you meant—it was the eyes, like two leaf green beads, so immensely detailed but lifeless to an almost uncomfortable degree.

“I want to see the aquarium exhibit next,” you said, tugging twice at Wonwoo’s sleeve. “I heard it’s really dark in there.”

“Well, we can go take a look.”

“And we can eat afterward? There’s an atrium.”

“Sure.”

Wonwoo let your arm link with his, following the natural flow of museum-goers into the next exhibit, leaving behind the shiny, colourful wall of beetles and the auburn fox in its lonesome enclosure.

The aquarium exhibit was one of the most spacious in the entire museum, placed in a large, dome-topped room, with shadows creeping at every corner. There were some lights—deep, blue lights that rippled and wriggled across the floor, like waves patterned against ocean sand by the sun rays. He didn't know from where, but he could hear water sloshing, a very soft sound that led him to imagine the wet sand squelching under his toes.

You approached another display wall, filled with a school of lemon-yellow and azure coloured fish placed around vibrant, unique corals.

While you busied yourself with reading the informative plaque, Wonwoo spent his time taking a more in-depth inspection around the mystifying exhibit. He noted the stingrays and luminous jellyfish flocking above his head, held on near-invisible little wires that would occasionally glimmer if they twisted the perfect angle.

After a generously long venture throughout the room, reading all the plaques and pointing to different fish behind the glass just to comment, “I think that was in Finding Nemo,” you had wanted to sit down, spotting a bench positioned before an aquarium.

Wonwoo agreed, and you collapsed on the bench together.

There was a period of comfortable silence where you both watched the aquarium, meanwhile the dappling, blue pattern cast to the floor danced and flickered around at your still feet. The atmosphere seemed so vivid that Wonwoo was surprised the next breath he took wasn’t a mouthful of liquid and sea salt, or that his body wasn’t miraculously suspended and floating about in the echoey shadows.

And that’s when Wonwoo decided he liked the aquatic exhibit very much—more than all the others.

He looked down at the hands folded in his lap, specifically at the scarred, ruined cuticle belonging to his right thumb and how it had withstood years of his anxious scratching. Wonwoo then breathed out softly, feeling his heartbeat begin to pick up.

“Want to know something?” He asked.

You stared back at Wonwoo with an intrigued pique of your brow.

“Like what?”

“Well, first of all, we both took creative writing, you know.”

"Uh, okay," you sniffed, "sure."

"No, like, we took the course together. In the fall. Prof T?"

"Really?" You pinned him down in a non-believing stare. "Wait, you're talking about that basement auditorium, right? In Gildan Hall? It always smelt like old computers and dust bunnies?"

"That's the one."

Scoffing out some dry air, you leaned back.

"Woah. I don't think I ever saw you... did you go to each class?"

He nodded a few times. "Almost all. To be fair, I sat more in the back, off to the corner. I wasn't exactly thrusting myself into the limelight."

Folding one leg over your knee, you chuckled. "Sounds like you."

“I have this really specific memory from that class, when that random guy, whoever he was, sat in the seat you always took. Your so called unofficially-assigned-assigned-seat. And I remember that really tense feeling right before you walked in, because we all knew you were gonna chew him out for it. The way you marched straight up to him was already violating enough, and then you basically ruined his whole day.” Looking down at his hands again, Wonwoo smiled at recalling the memory. “You absolutely terrified me. I don’t even think you understand how much I wanted to avoid you.”

He caught your eyes, shimmering like the water-stained floor, with an emotion he couldn’t place.

“Actually?” Was all you said, hardly sounding surprised.

“Yeah.”

Your face began searching around the shadowed, sloshing exhibit for something unseen. He decided to let the silence settle like a thin sheet, instead listening to the tidal pushing and pulling. The soft sounds reminded him of being a child, wandering beaches into the late evening with his older brother during summer vacations, and picking up shells just to hear the ocean speaking inside them.

Aloud, you breathed in, shaking your foot.

“I can’t really remember what was going through my head that day. I know I’d had a fight with Mingyu before going to class, so I was feeling pretty amped up and short-fused. I knew I was going straight to another SSA meeting that I hardly cared about immediately after, and then I would work until the evening. I knew I would have to make dinner when I got home, even though I’d be downright exhausted, and the next morning, I’d have to wake up early to attend some bullshit press, social, interview breakfast thing for my mom’s new lifestyle magazine. Having that idiot sit in my favourite seat was probably just the straw that broke the camel’s back, I guess.”

“Hm,” Wonwoo hummed, suddenly experiencing a profound sympathy for you that he never imagined he would feel. “When you give it a bit more perspective, it doesn’t sound so…”

“Completely and utterly bitchy?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to use that word, but, sure.”

You grinned at him through the dusky rippling of auroras that flitted across the exhibit, seeming like you were under the sea—and he was, too, sitting side by side in the somehow peaceful depths of the chaotic whirlpool that had pulled you two together.

“I have a memory.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo returned your grin, “I want to hear it.”

“So, remember earlier how we were talking about the Frontiers evaluation for Bradbrook’s calculus class?”

“Mmhm.”

"So, after all the Frontiers scores came out, I'm not gonna lie—I really thought I had one of the better marks. It's not like I specifically trotted around, throwing out my grade to anyone passing by, but I was parading a little bit to my friends. And then, like, Clara or something, told me that there was this guy who almost got a ten. I asked her who, and she said she didn't know—just that she overheard some of the basketball guys talking about it.

I thought she was lying. I didn't say that, though. But I remember it was on my mind every night. Like, it was itching me so bad. I wanted to know who the fuck was smart enough to get a damn near perfect ten on Frontiers. Some of those problems are ridiculously hard. I started writing nonsense around A-block. They straight up give students problems that serious, esteemed mathematicians can't fucking solve. So, honestly... I was quite jealous of you... despite not even knowing who you were. I can't believe that was you, asshole."

Wonwoo cracked his knuckles, beginning to laugh at that intense but lighthearted glare you were sending his way. Of course, you mellowed everything out with a big smile he felt his heart skip a beat over. You had actually went to bed thinking about him.

Holy fuck.

Maybe not him in physicality. But in spirit.

That was close enough.

"I just did the study guide." He shrugged.

Your knee pushed into his. "Oh, yeah, the study guide. Jeez, why didn't I think of doing that? Let me go kill myself right now."

"Keep tabs on it for next time."

With a roll of the eyes, you laughed almost to scorn him.

“I hate people like you.”

And Wonwoo laughed back. “Meaning?”

“Things come to you so naturally. You don’t have to try.”

“Sure,” Wonwoo agreed, scratching his nose and proceeding to nudge up his glasses, “things like mathematics, numbers, problem solving, taking something whole apart and then looking at its pieces. I guess it does come to me naturally. I can’t complain. But there are also plenty of things that don’t. And… if I could, I’d probably trade all my stupid math and logic and puzzling for what I’m missing.”

You tilted your head, staring intently at Wonwoo through the blue sea between you, almost into his brain, it felt like.

“What are you missing?”

At first, Wonwoo didn’t respond. To answer your question meant an intimate exhumation of the flaws that he’d been willfully ignoring for the past year, if not his entire damn life. It meant at last turning over the round, flat rock that had been sitting at the foot of his wooden porch since childhood, and realizing the bottom was sculpted with the grittiest texture and wet with the thickest dirt. The rock was hiding long-legged spiders and ugly, skittering bugs and it would have probably been better to let the rock sit there, untouched, only facing the warm and comfortable glow of the sun.

Wonwoo didn’t want to turn the rock.

Not at all.

“A plethora of things, I’m sure.”

Squeezing onto your wrist, you smiled at him.

“I think I’m the opposite.”

“How so?”

He watched you inhale a long, slow breath, and then huff it all out through your nose. Wonwoo bumped his knee against yours.

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s not like that…”

Looking up to the glowing aquarium, the dull light reflected back unto your face, and Wonwoo again saw the glisten in your eyes.

“I just feel…” for a moment, your chest stilled, “… I feel like I’m so much of everything that I just blend into nothing. You know, like when a child takes a whole bunch of paints and squirts them all together thinking it’s going to create this beautiful, never-before-seen new colour? But, instead, it’s just greyish-brownish, nothing.”

Your face turned back to him. Wonwoo watched you chew down on your bottom lip, meanwhile your eyes glazed aloof, off to the side, as though you were rummaging through so many different thoughts and experiences that it required your utmost mental focus.

“And—” you swallowed tightly, and it sounded so painfully dry with stinging emotion, “—I just don’t want people to see that I’m so much of nothing. I just find myself covering it all up.”

Were you going to cry? Wonwoo felt himself jolt inwardly with panic. He had never seen you cry and he had therefore never developed the best protocol to tackle such a situation. Some people preferred immediate comfort, others—a reassuring stroke on the back, maybe some uplifting monologue. Or, maybe, they didn’t want to be touched at all. They just desired the simple, thinking silence and all its clarity. He remembered you saying something about it—that you did like to be comforted, but only in very certain circumstances.

First, Wonwoo subtly wiped off his hand against his thigh, and then he took in the softest breath. Through the flickering, midnight blue mirage, Wonwoo reached for your hand. He settled his cold fingers inch by inch under yours, and, with a timid but gentle thumb, Wonwoo caressed in a slow path along your knuckles.

You glanced to him appreciatively, saying nothing, but squeezing his hand in return. He figured he’d done right.

Maybe more things came to him naturally than he thought.

Before leaving the nature museum, you and Wonwoo had stopped at their atrium as promised to get in a quick meal. While you poked a fork into your sad-looking salad, making small scribbles every now and then to the journal at your elbow, Wonwoo ate a grill-pressed sandwich and flicked through his phone. He was surprised to check the time and realize you had spent about three hours there—it felt so much shorter. Wonwoo hated how quickly each moment flew past when he was with you. It was always so bittersweet.

He had wanted to know what exactly you were penciling in the journal, though he never asked, knowing he would probably be proofreading it from your document later. Obviously, you were thinking about that particular date with Mingyu from years back in your life—that was the principal point in going to the museum. However, Wonwoo had chosen to regard it more as hanging out, not caring if that was a particularly delusional or untruthful choice.

After finishing your meals and tossing the plastic remnants into the recycling bins, Wonwoo looked outside the atrium’s towering glass wall to note how cloudy the sky had become. From the bright, eggshell turquoise in the afternoon, to an especially muted grey that seemed brewing and heavy with a downpour. You adjusted the bag over your shoulder and suddenly grimaced at the sight.

“Jeez, is it going to rain?”

“It could,” Wonwoo sighed. “It very possibly could.”

“I swear. I obsessively check the forecast in order to plan all my outfits around it. It never said it would rain!” You then threw the bottle of iced tea you’d been drinking into the garbage with an aggressive slam. “This shirt is a horrible choice. It will be stupidly see-through."

Wonwoo glanced around the atrium.

“There’s lots of empty tables. If we want to sit and wait it out, then I don’t think anyone would get mad. But, I mean, it’s up to you.”

“Why’s it up to me?”

“I don’t know. Just—if you don’t want to get your outfit all soaked. I’m sure if we left now, we could make good distance before it really started raining. I’m not opposed to getting a little wet. But I have no issue with staying here and letting the clouds go over.”

You folded your arms, and your head fell to the side. He’d seen that look before. It was your own patented prelude to disaster.

“I never said I was opposed to getting wet.”

He laughed. “Well, you certainly insinuated it.”

“Do you think I'm some sort of whiny little priss?”

"I think you named your bear Miss Priss."

"I think you're a smart ass. Take that smirk off your face. Now."

Wonwoo wanted to sigh, but he didn’t. He then thought about trying to tenderly explain his way out of it with his smooth words. As much as he would think he’d figured you out, there was still a part of him that was very confused by you and how to adjust to your behaviour.

This time, he decided he would do nothing.

“Okay. Let’s go, then.”

He reached out his hand for you to grab.

“As if,” you scoffed, walking around him toward the exit doorway, into the museum garden, “not after you just insulted me.”

Wonwoo could do nothing but laugh in response, because he had caught that faint smile on your face as you passed him, and the sweet beading in your eyes. He simply followed you out the doors.

During the walk back to his apartment, it had yet to rain at all, not even a typical, humid summer drizzle or the smallest bit of spitting. Maybe it was just way more cloudy than usual, or it was a concerning spread of city smog tainting the sky. It’s not like he wanted it to rain, anyway, though more so for your sake than his.

About a little more than halfway through the walk, however, you came to an abrupt stop outside a flower shop, and Wonwoo watched you lift a doubtful hand to your cheek and wipe something off it. Before you could say anything, Wonwoo felt a big, cold, wet drop smack just above his eyebrow and begin leaking down. He used the sleeve of his shirt to clean it up, only to experience another fat droplet strike a second later, right onto his glasses.

“You can’t be serious…” he heard you mumble.

Making the mistake of looking up, more and more droplets fell swiftly from the daunting, dark grey blanket strewn across the entire skylight. They began painting all over the sidewalk, the roadway, shaking down into the brilliant purple and white petunia pots outside the florist shop. And Wonwoo froze for a moment, because he honestly hadn’t expected to be caught in the rain, let alone the downpour it was unfortunately shaping up to be.

“Ow!” You winced sharply. “One just fucking hit my eyeball!”

“Shit—let’s hurry.” Wonwoo hid his phone. “My apartment’s only like, ten minutes away, less if we run really fast.”

“Run?!” You gawked at him. “I don’t run!”

“No, you fucking sashay, I get it.” In a matter of seconds, those intermittent raindrops had evolved into an unrelenting, bathing barrage. Wonwoo could feel his clothes beginning to dampen, and his glasses were streaming with water. He slapped his hand onto yours, jerking you forward despite your stiltedness. “And I’m so sorry but you’re going to have to sacrifice one part of your pretty fucking princess routine for just five minutes so we can get back to my place.”

“My pretty fucking wha—!”

Once Wonwoo’s fingers were clasped tight with yours, he started to run, and whether it was voluntary or not, you ran along with him, shouting something that he couldn’t quite hear over the rain that bounced in loud splatters against the sidewalk and the adrenaline echoing in his own ears. He could hardly see through the downpour, but he’d walked that path so many times that it almost wasn’t necessary. At one point, he’d stepped onto the street prematurely, and he heard the loud, startled honk from a car.

“Jesus Christ, Wonwoo!” You half-laughed, half-coughed, clutching onto his slippery hand even tighter, “I’d ideally like to live!”

“We’re almost there!” He chuckled back.

“I think I’m going to lose my fucking shoe!”

“I’ll buy you a new pair!”

Wonwoo didn’t stop, and you didn’t either. He was soaked to his bones, with thick, drizzling fronds of hair plastered to his forehead and the glasses nearly slipping from his nose—the scent of earthy but ashen rain all around him—and still Wonwoo kept running, a very blithe smile permanent to his mouth despite all his discomfort.

Upon reaching the entryway to the pottery shop, Wonwoo almost skidded completely past it since the sidewalk was so slick and pouring like an angry river. You slammed into his back, and it was then that your hands unintentionally separated. Instead, he felt your fingers flesh into the sopping cloth covering his shoulders.

“Be careful on the steps!” He shouted overtop a reverberating crack of thunder that shook from behind the grey sleet sky.

“If I slip, I’m pulling you down with me!”

Wonwoo was pleased to hear the equally bright smile that bled into your words, meanwhile your fingertips dug even deeper into his muscle. Once inside the shop, a gust of wind proceeded to blow the door shut, and all Wonwoo heard was hard rain against the glass.

—END OF PART TWO.

[giveafike]

ben shelton taking you on a date after flirting for months on atp/wta tour 😋

TLDR: Tennisplayer!fem reader x Ben Shelton flirting on tour until Ben acc gets a grip and asks reader out.

EDIT: part 2 here!

Word count + info: 5.1k! A LONG one but I just do not know how to stfu!! Dialogue (including comments, texts, phone calls - lots of flirting and teasing). Mentions of Carlos Alcaraz too (couldn't resist) alongisde Frances Tiafoe and Taylor Fritz.

Character Inspo: She's cheeky n playful (was listening to Promiscuous Girl - Nelly Furtado & 5 Star Hotel - Raye as I was writing this amongst many other similar songs so.... yea...behaviour like Sabrina Carpenter - yk just... fun! I didn't write any specifications but in my head I was envisioning Tyla so! But put whoever you want to cast ;)

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW, this is sooo cute. There is a little naughty tsk tsk suggestive scene (CAR SCENE - feel free to skip) bit but nothing NSFW, teasing, playful relationship, little jabs here n there, hope its making ur feet kick! I hope it's funny too, like it makes u smile bc I had sm fun writing this !

Azzie Notes ✚: I literally gasped and giggled when I saw this prompt - I can't!!! SO, so, soooo cute I loved this prompt anon pls keep sending me more, you have this writer wrapped around your finger now. I love the idea of Ben with a WTA player, such a cute and fun dynamic!! Anyways, hope you all enjoy ;)

————————————————————————

Game, Set, Match - B.T.S

You stood on the court, the crowd's roar fading into a distant hum as you focused on the match ahead. A small smile played on your lips, and your eyes narrowed in determination. The bright sun overhead felt like a spotlight, buzzing on your skin, illuminating your every move and sharpening each muscle in your body. You were a force to be reckoned with — both polarising and captivating, your quick wit and cheeky banter stirred strong opinions. With a playful shrug and a blown kiss to the crowd, you dismissed the critics, your confidence as effortless as your serves.

Years of competing in Junior Opens had forged your resilience, and now you have been stepping into the world of professional tennis, where the stakes were higher and opponents fiercer. You had navigated this transition well over the past few years, finding your rhythm amidst the pressure, your footing steady on the path to greatness. The attention came quick too, especially with names like Nike wanting you to be an ambassador, and all sorts of products wanting you to be the face of the company, from protein powders to headphones - it was endless. The taste of victory was sweet and addictive, each match bringing you closer to the big prizes and recognition you had longed for. But just when you thought you had everything figured out, a whisper of uncertainty began to tug at the edges of your focus... not a what, but more a who?

In the past year and a half, life on tour has shifted for you in a whole different gear. Don't get it twisted, tennis remained top priority, but there was an undeniable spark that made the grind far more enjoyable and unpredictable, and that spark was no other than Ben Shelton. You first noticed him from afar, where casual nods turned into lingering glances that made the hair on your skin stand. With his raw power, boyish grin, and confidence that radiated from him, "Big Ben" was impossible to ignore. But it was during the Australian Open earlier this year that things between you really began to heat up.

Ben was anything but subtle. Once he set his sights on you, his flirting was relentless. You couldn’t help but feel flattered; it was hard not to get hooked to that buzz. After all, it wasn’t every day that a guy like him, full of charm and a teasing smile paid you so much attention. Others had thrown glances your way and offered compliments, but Ben? He stepped up his game like no one else.

Your first interaction was at a practice session where Ben sat by in the empty stands, right up by the court, arms folded and a smirk on his face. You could feel his gaze following you, his presence hard to shake off, not that you wanted to. As you finish another practice set, you heave, closing your fist to celebrate, and walk over to your bag, glancing up as his eyes light up as you catch his.

“You’re looking decent out there,” he teased, leaning over the railing, his voice laced with a challenge.

You stopped, placing a hand on your hip as you shot him a smirk, squinting up at him as you caught your breath. “Decent? It’s okay, I get it, it must be tough admitting I’m shaping up better than you.”

He laughed, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Better? That’s a stretch, Y/N. But I’ll let you keep thinking that.”

You shrugged, a teasing grin playing on your lips. “Believe it or not, it’s happening, Ben,” you winked before slinging your bag over your shoulder and heading toward the tunnel. His chuckle followed you as you disappeared from sight.

The banter didn’t end there, though. Throughout the tournament, you could feel his eyes on you, watching during your matches. On TikTok, he left comments that had both your fans and his buzzing. One day after you posted a training video, he had commented: “You sure you’re training for tennis and not modeling?”

You grinned, tapping out a reply. “I’m great at multitasking. What’s your excuse?”

His response was instant. “Just waiting for you to finally give me a real challenge.”

Comments turned into small conversations as you passed by each other, where you’d joke and flirt like it was the most natural thing in the world. His relentless teasing was addictive.  

It cooled off slightly to just a couple of liked stories and posts until Wimbledon had rolled around. By this point, the stakes felt higher. You were in top form, but off the court, the media seemed just as interested in your interactions than your matches. And it didn't end there either, it wasn't long before other peers started piqueing interest. For example, Carlos? He wasn’t subtle either.

After a long match, you were relaxing in the players’ lounge when Carlos wandered over, his smile too bright to ignore. He leaned against the table beside you, casually close.

“You were on fire out there today. Maybe we should hit the practice courts sometime,” he suggested with a casual grin.

You tilted your head, a playful glint in your eyes. “Careful, Carlos. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your fans.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll risk it. Besides, we’re both Nike athletes, we’ve got to stick together.”

Before you could reply, Ben Shelton walked into the room, his gaze locking onto you and Carlos immediately. His smile didn’t falter, but the way he sized up the interaction was hard to miss. He strolled over, hands in his pockets, exuding calm confidence.

“Carlitos,” Ben greeted, his tone casual, though the unspoken tension hung between the lines. “What’s this? Making future practice plans?”

Carlos shot Ben a quick glance, still smiling but aware of the shift. “Just talking about tennis, you know,” he said lightly. “Gotta keep sharp.”

Ben’s eyes flicked between you and Carlos before landing squarely on you. “I’m sure you can manage without help. She’s been getting a lot of attention lately, let her breathe.”

Carlos gave you a light tap on the arm before backing off, offering a polite nod. “Catch you later, Y/N.”

You waved him off with a smile. “See you around, Carlos.”

Once Carlos was out of earshot, Ben shifted a little closer, though still maintaining that casual air. “You’ve got him interested,” he commented, his voice dropping lower.

You looked up at him through your lashes, the corner of your mouth lifting into a sly grin. “What, jealous, Shelton?”

Ben’s grin spread wider, but his tone remained easygoing. “Nah, just keeping tabs. Making sure I’m not falling behind.”

You stood up slowly, meeting his gaze as you adjusted your posture, your eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t mix business and pleasure, Ben. We’re both Nike—gotta keep it professional.”

He chuckled, tilting his head. “So, you’re saying you’re all business?”

You turned to face him fully, taking a step closer, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “Oh, not always. But you’ll have to keep up to find out.”

With that, you brushed past him, leaving a lingering tension in the air. His eyes followed you as you walked away, and you could practically feel his grin growing. The banter was always playful, but now, with each exchange, the stakes seemed to rise; the unspoken understanding was clear: the game was very much on.

As the summer heat intensified, so did the buzz around Nike’s newest campaign. Your latest photoshoot was all about capturing both your athleticism and your bold personality. In a blue baby tee top with a heart-shaped keyhole and a matching skort, you struck poses that screamed confidence, captioned simply: "Ready?"

The comments rolled in quickly, and it didn’t take long before Ben made his appearance.

It didn’t take long for the comments to roll in. And as expected, Ben was quick to chime in.

benshelton:

"You call that ready? Looks more like you’re just warming up."

You chuckled, tapping your response.

Y/N.Y/LN:

"Warming up is all I need to beat you, Shelton."

benshelton:

"Beat me? Let's not get ahead of ourselves... You'd need more than a warm-up for that."

The banter was familiar, yet it always left you with a smirk. You leaned into the challenge.

Y/N.Y/LN:

"Careful, or I might just take that as a challenge."

benshelton:

"I play to win."

The playful back-and-forth didn’t go unnoticed by your fans, but it was clear this game of teasing wasn’t just for show. It must've been a week before it escalated further. You hsd landed a major Victoria’s Secret campaign, and it was unlike anything you had done before. They flew you out to Paris and guided you through the whole thing. The theme was dark and seductive—a fallen angel vibe. Lingerie, lace, and the kind of allure that left little to the imagination. You felt powerful, but also aware of how this would get attention—not just from the public, but from Ben.

You posted one of the shots late that night. The lighting was dramatic, casting soft shadows across your body as you reclined in lace.

The caption was simple yet suggestive: "Best kept secret. VS Summer 2024 Fallen Angel Collection, from me to you."

Naturally, Ben couldn’t resist commenting.

benshelton: Fallen angel, huh? Guess that means you’re trouble.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile as you typed out your reply.

Y/N.Y/LN:: I thought you liked trouble.

It was no surprise when he slid into your DMs right after that.

benshelton: "I do. But you're playing a dangerous game."

You bit your lip, leaning back against your hotel bed. It was late, and the quiet Paris night settled around you, but your heart raced.

Y/N.Y/LN: " A game? Who said I’m playing? "

benshelton: "You might not be playing, but you're already winning."

You hesitated for a moment, then smirked as you typed out your next message.

Y/N.Y/LN: "And here I thought you said you could keep up."

Almost immediately, your phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t another text. It was a FaceTime call. You let it ring for a beat or two, your pulse quickening, before answering.

Ben’s face appeared on your screen, his hair slightly damp and his grin all too familiar. "You really know how to mess with a guy’s head, you know that?"

You smiled, pulling your covers up over you and leaning into the pillow. "What’s got you all worked up? It’s just a campaign."

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. "Just a campaign? C’mon, you know exactly what you’re doing."

You blinked up at him, teasing. "And what is it that I am doing, Ben?"

His grin widened, but there was a glint in his eyes. "You’re pushing my limits. You're tempting me"

You chuckled, biting your lip as you let his words settle over you. "Tempting? Now that’s an accusation if I ever heard one. Maybe you're just easy to push."

Ben raised an eyebrow, viting a smile back as well. "Maybe I am. But you better be careful, or you might get burned."

The heat in his gaze made your heart skip, but you kept your tone light. "I think I can handle the heat."

Ben’s smile deepened. "That’s what I’m counting on."

You stared at each other through the screen, the tension palpable even across the distance.

Finally, you smirked, pulling the covers higher. "Goodnight, Shelton."

He sighed, but his grin didn’t falter. "Goodnight, angel. Sweet dreams."

From there, the texts seemed to pour out. Every random moment, one of you would reply to a post or find some excuse to message or call, any reason to interact. You had a secret surprise up your sleeve which you knew would practically bring Ben to his knees for you if he wasn't there already, and it had something to do with a custom dress for a red carpet.

It was a hot July night in Spain, the night draped itself around you like a warm embrace, the energy of the red carpet charity event still pulsing in the air. Your dress—a stunning, sheer, sand-colored creation—clung to your body in all the right places, slit at the thigh, your hair pinned back, accentuating your glossy, sheen skin on your neck down your shoulders. The dress shimmered under the streetlights, leaving just enough to the imagination, but not too much.

Photos were posted by your team, "behind the scene" shots and red carpet poses.  The cameras had devoured every moment, the attention was full on and the night buzzed well. You reveled in the limelight and felt like a true celebrity for the night but, as the evening wore on, you began to feel drained from all the social interactions and wished you could just be alone with your phone, texting the one man who truly kept you on your toes.

Finally, as you collapsed into the backseat of your car, exhausted but exhilarated from the night's events, your phone buzzed with a missed call from Ben. The driver glanced back at you through the rearview mirror as you eagerly turned on your phone and smiled to yourself. In that moment, all you wanted was to be alone with Ben and continue this thrilling game of flirtation and surprises. You call him back after a minute passes, butterflies in your stomach fluttering away.

"Couldn't wait, could you?" you teased, giggling as you leaning back against the plush seat. His grin appeared instantly, filling your screen.

"Wait? After that post?" Ben's voice was a mixture of playful frustration and barely concealed admiration. His eyes roamed over your dimly lit image through the screen as though he could see you sitting there in that dress. "You’ve been trying to kill me with these looks for months, but this? This is the final straw."

You laughed softly, pretending to adjust the neckline of your dress as he clearly struggled to keep his composure. "I'm just doing my job. Don’t get too distracted."

Ben shook his head, a grin still lingering on his lips. "Distracted? I’ve been refreshing Instagram like a madman just to catch another angle of you. And from what I saw, I’m not the only one. You’ve got every guy on tour dropping their jaw."

You smirked, rolling your eyes playfully. "You jealous?"

"Jealous? Let’s see. Alcaraz, Ruud… even Tsitsipas liked your post. You know that guy doesn’t just like anything. But trust me, no one’s more jealous than me," Ben teased, his voice dipping lower.

You laughed softly, brushing a hand over your dress as you adjusted the fabric, playing coy. "Ben, there’s only one person I’m trying to get a rise out of—and it’s definitely not them."

His grin widened, eyes gleaming through the screen,scheming away, "Glad to hear that. So...how about you give me something a little more exclusive?Just a sneak peek. Something that’s all mine."

You crossed your legs slowly, feeling the slit in the dress reveal just a bit more skin, and you caught the driver’s eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror. He quickly cleared his throat and looked away.

You smirked, feeling a rush of boldness. "I'm in public, Shelton. What are you suggesting?"

Ben’s eyes glinted with mischief, his grin widening. "Nothing crazy. Just a little something to hold me over."

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back, the sound of the city humming outside as you sighed. You stretched your legs out across the backseat, angling your body to the side, draping yourself across the backseat for a full body shot. The dress shifted, catching the city light while still being dimly lit, showing off your figure perfectly as you lounged effortlessly. "Is this what you had in mind, Ben? A full shot?" you purred, looking up at your phone, your eyes sweet and innocent.

Ben’s jaw tightened, his chest rising as he exhaled sharply. "Damn, Y/N, I knew you'd look good, but this…" He let out a low whistle, leaning closer to the screen, his eyes glinting and a blush creeping up all over. "You’re not playing fair."

You smirked, enjoying the power shift. "Fair? You asked for it, Shelton."

He laughed, but it was strained, the heat in his voice unmistakable. "Yeah, but you know how to take it to another level. Now I'm the one who's going to be distracted all night." His tone softened, a teasing edge returning. "Just one more reason for me to fly out, don't you think?"

"One more reason?" you echoed, playing with the neckline of your dress, a smile teasing your lips. "I think I’ve given you more than enough."

Ben groaned softly, running a hand through his hair, clearly captivated.

" Y/N, you don’t know what I’d do if I was there right now."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Yeah? What would you do?"

"I’d start with that dress," Ben murmured, his eyes never leaving yours through the screen. "Slowly. You know, just enough to tease. Then—"

The driver cleared his throat, and you bit back a laugh. Ben noticed, his eyes narrowing playfully. "Caught?"

"Almost," you whispered, your pulse quickening as you adjusted in your seat, the thrill of being on the edge of danger sending a shiver down your spine. "You’re getting me into trouble."

"Ben’s gaze softened, though his grin stayed. "Me? You’re the one that looks like that." He paused, his voice low and rough. "God, if I could just be there…"

"Careful," you warned, grinning as you looked at him through half-lidded eyes. "You might lose yourself completely."

Ben’s gaze darkened, and his voice dropped even lower. "Maybe I’m okay with losing it when it comes to you."

You bit your lip, heart racing as you shifted in your seat. The driver’s eyes flicked up to the mirror again, and you quickly glanced away, fighting the blush creeping up your neck. “You’re dangerous, Shelton. Keep talking like that, and I might have to mute you.”

“Go ahead. Mute me,” he dared, his voice thick with challenge. “But I bet you won’t.”

You smiled, a small, teasing hum escaping your lips. “Oh, you think I’m scared?”

“I think you like teasing me as much as I like it.” His voice was gravelly now, every word laced with want.

Your breath caught, eyes wide a bit before you were about to respond when the car pulled up to the hotel. The driver got out quickly, opening the door for you. You stepped out, feeling the cool night air wash over your skin as you walked through the lobby, Ben still watching intently through the screen. You could feel his gaze on you as you made your way to the elevator, the tension between you buzzing like electricity.

Once in your room, you tossed your bag onto the bed and sank down onto the mattress. "Alright," you breathed, "I’m back in my room."

Ben’s voice came through the phone, teasing yet low with interest. "So… how’s that dress treating you?"

You grinned at his not-so-subtle curiosity. "It’s treating me well so far," you teased, running a hand over the fabric. You stood up, positioning yourself in front of the mirror.

Slowly, deliberately, you reached behind you to the zipper. "I’ll give you a little preview."

You lowered it just enough for the strapless dress to reveal a sliver of your smooth back, keeping the front of the dress held firmly in place with your other hand. The exposed skin was just enough to tease.

You turned back slightly, catching his reaction through the screen, his eyes locked on you. "You wanted to see, right?" you whispered, mischief clear in your voice.

Ben let out a breathy laugh, clearly amused. "You really know how to keep a guy on edge."

You shot him a playful look over your shoulder, still holding the dress in place. "It’s all about the suspense. You should know that by now."

Ben's gaze flickered, his tone a bit softer. "You’re making it hard to focus."

With a smirk, you turned to face him, still holding the dress tight. "Goodnight, Shelton."

Before he could say another word, you ended the call, tossing your phone onto the bed, feeling satisfied. You knew he wouldn’t forget that little moment anytime soon.

By the time August had rolled around, the tension between you and Ben was impossible to ignore. Months of teasing, playful banter, and phone calls had built into something electric, something undeniable. Now, you were both in New York for the U.S. Open. The final Slam of the year where you'd cross paths for the year, and maybe the final chance for one of you to make a move.

After winning your third-round match, you made your way through the tunnel, your heart still racing from the adrenaline of your win. The buzz of the crowd still rang in your ears, but as you walked toward the tunnel, you heard familiar voices ahead.

Ben, along with Taylor Fritz and Frances Tiafoe, stood laughing and talking just a few feet ahead. Their voices echoed in the corridor, their banter unmistakable.

“Bro, it’s embarrassing now,” Frances teased. “You’ve gotta ask her out. She’s into you, we all know it.”

Ben groaned, looking exasperated, dragging his hand over his face. “It’s not that easy. I don’t want to screw it up.”

Taylor chuckled. “Screw it up? Dude, she’s been giving you eyes all week. Just make the move.”

Frances nudged him. “It’s not like she’s hiding it either. The way she teases you, she's a green light.”

You smirked, slowing your pace as you approached. They didn’t notice you yet, too absorbed in their teasing.

Ben sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I don’t know.”

“They’re right,” you chimed in, finally stepping into view, as you walked by, wiping sweat off your brow, smirking. Their heads snapped toward you, startled. “Take their advice, Benny. It’s 'bout time you did something.”

Ben’s eyes widened as you walked past, your tone light but with an edge of challenge. His friends burst into laughter, both of them slapping Ben on the back, shoving him back and forth.

Frances grinned. “See? Even she's asking you to make a move, man.”

Ben shot him a look, but his gaze lingered on you as you disappeared into the locker room.

Later, after a shower and a change of clothes, you made your way back into the lounge, feeling refreshed but still riding the high of the match. You didn’t expect to run into Ben waiting for you, leaning casually against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

You raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk tugging at your lips. “Stalking me now?”

He pushed off the wall, taking a step toward you, his expression shifting from playful to serious. “No, what-uh, but I... I wanted to catch you before you left.”

“Oh?” You crossed your arms, looking up at him. “What’s up?”

Ben took a breath, looking almost nervous. “About what you said earlier... maybe they’re right. Maybe I have been holding back.”

You cocked your head, feeling your heart quicken at his sudden change in tone. “And?”

“And I think I’m done waiting,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “Would you want to go out with me? Just us. Dinner, maybe?”

For a moment, the world seemed to be still. Ben, usually so confident and playful, stood before you with a vulnerability that tugged at your heart.

You let the moment hang, letting him sweat just a little before your lips curled into a teasing smile. “About time you asked, Ben.”

His tense shoulders dropped, a grin spreading across his face. “So, is that a yes?”

You let out a small giggle, your voice soft but playful. “Yeah, it’s a yes. Better come like a gentleman though.”

That night, you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the sweet, soft dress you’d picked out. It was a pale pink dress, fitted at the top with a flowing skirt that flattered your figure perfectly. The neckline was delicate, with thin straps that accentuated your shoulders, and the soft fabric wrapped your waist before cascading down to just above your knees. The dress was sweet and soft, but still undeniably you—playful with a touch of elegance.

You headed down to the hotel lobby, taking a seat as you crossed one leg over the other, checking your socials. At 7pm on the dot, Ben walks in, running a hand through his curls before he sets eyes on you.

Ben stood there in a crisp white button-down shirt, the sleeves slightly rolled up to reveal his strong forearms, accentuating his strong shoulders, paired with dark, well-tailored pants. His curls were just tousled enough to seem like he hadn’t spent hours fixing it, but of course, he had. He looked handsome—maybe even a little nervous.

“You look stunning,” he said, his voice low as his eyes took you in.

You smiled, a soft blush warming your cheeks, as you stood up. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He offered you his arm, and you linked yours through his, your fingers brushing over the firm muscles of his bicep as you stepped out into the lobby. There was a quiet buzz between you, the usual playfulness replaced with something softer, more tender.

As you walked to the car, Ben opened the passenger door for you, giving you a gentle smile as you slipped inside. Before he could close the door, you leaned over, reaching for the driver’s side door and popping it open for him.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he got in. “You always keep me on my toes, don’t you?”

You grinned, sitting back in your seat, and pulling your seatbelt over. “Always.”

The ride to the restaurant was comfortable, a soft hum playing through the speakers, "Love is Only a Feeling" by Joey BadA$$, making you smile a bit at his subtle but purposeful details. As the city lights flickered by outside, you felt a sense of calm settle over you. Every so often, your hand would brush against his on the center console until finally, you slipped your fingers into his, holding his hand gently as he drove.

Ben glanced at you, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “You seem... different tonight,” he said, his voice soft, almost as if he were trying to figure out the shift in your usual dynamic.

You smiled as you gazed at him. “Different how?”

He hesitated, his grip on your hand tightening just a little. “I don’t know. Less playful. More...”

“Serious?” you finished for him.

He nodded, giving you a small, sheepish grin. “Yeah. I like it, though.”

You let out a soft laugh, leaning your head against the seat. “It’s just nice to finally be doing this.”

When you arrived at the restaurant, a small, candlelit Italian place tucked away in the quieter part of the city, Ben quickly got out and hurried around to open your door again. This time, when you stepped out, you smiled up at him, letting him take your hand. Before you could fully stand, he bent down, bringing your hand to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

Your heart fluttered at the gesture, the sweetness of it catching you off guard. “Such a gentleman,” you teased, though your voice was softer than usual.

Ben smirked, though there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes. “I’m trying.”

Inside, the restaurant was intimate, with small tables with flickering candles, and soft jazz music playing in the background. Ben led you to a corner table, pulling out your chair before taking his seat across from you. The low hum of other diners provided a cozy backdrop as the two of you settled in.

As you both browsed the menu, you found yourself resting your chin in your hand, watching Ben with a soft smile. He glanced up and caught you staring, a blush creeping up his neck. “What?” he asked, his voice a little breathless.

“Nothing,” you said, your lips curling into a grin. “Just... enjoying this.”

Ben reached across the table, his hand finding yours again. “Me too.”

Dinner was perfect. The pasta was rich, the wine smooth, but what made the evening unforgettable was how easy everything felt between you. Conversation flowed naturally, deeper than it ever had before. You talked about travel plans and places you both dreamed of visiting and shared stories about family traditions—like how your grandmother used to insist on making a very experimental desserts during the holidays, no matter how disastrous it turned out every year.

At one point, you glanced out the window, taking in the soft glow of the city lights before turning back to Ben. “What about you? If you could be anywhere right now… where would it be?”

Ben didn’t hesitate, his eyes locked on yours. “Honestly? Right here. With you.”

You felt warmth rise to your cheeks, your heart skipping at the simplicity of his words. He wasn’t trying to impress you, just telling the truth, and somehow, that made it even more meaningful. You reached across the table again, slipping your hand into his. His fingers intertwined with yours, the gesture now familiar, yet it sent a shiver through you all the same.

“I’m glad you asked me to dinner,” you said quietly, the weight of the night settling around you both.

Ben smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “I’m glad you said yes.”

As the night wound down, Ben drove you back to the hotel. The city outside passed by in a blur of lights, but inside the car, everything felt still and comfortable. You held his hand the entire way, feeling the warmth and quiet reassurance of his touch.

When the car pulled up to your hotel, Ben quickly got out, making his way to your side to open the door. You stepped out, and this time, you didn’t let go of his hand. Instead, you turned to him, standing close in the cool night air.

“Thank you for tonight,” you whispered softly, looking up through your lashes.

Ben’s smile was gentle, his eyes warm as they met yours. “Anytime. Thank you for being here, with me.”

Your eyes crinkled as you smiled before you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek that lingered for a moment. His skin was warm, and you felt him inhale sharply at the unexpected touch. When you pulled back, your heart was racing, but you smiled up at him, feeling the lingering heat between you.

“Goodnight, Ben,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

His gaze lingered on you, and though he smiled, there was a quiet intensity in his eyes. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You gave his hand one last squeeze before letting go, making your way into the hotel with a soft smile on your lips. You glanced back one last time to see him leaning against his car, a playful wave and your lipstick still visible on his cheek. For once, you weren’t in full control, but somehow, that felt right.

In a world dominated by meticulous moves, it was these quiet moments that grounded you. Now, with someone like Ben by your side, every win, every loss, and every day on the court held more meaning.

Sometimes, the most important victories happened off the court.

[ibuks]

❕ hi so i made grown-up/older designs of some. ig lesser talked about gravity falls characters LOL

oh yeah the two new cool rockers in the falls… toby has finally become who he was always destined to be: BODACIOUS T.! and gideon.. hes having fun. hes kinda growing out of the dyeing his hair white phase but he still cant fully let go

i think it was obvious mermando would turn out to be the buff merman rapunzel, meanwhile lazy susan rediscovered her love for cats!! the earrings are from the flashback of her and the pearl necklace from the stan date scene… also mabel gave her cute socks

i felt like these two were def important to show as well. although i also just really love fidds and wanted to draw him LOL<3 he often gets visits from friends and family in his new big mansion. hell yeah robot arm. and tate is having fun spreading his sea and ocean knowledge

the unspoken ship that nobody mentions but we all can see… your honour i love them and muscular tyler goes kinda hard. btw mind his shorts

i know theres sometimes discourse about whether their relationship is really healthy bc mabel highkey forced them yada yada but i think bc theyre so made for each other that they probably ended up actually falling in love. I mean tambry valentino sounds so cool hello??

i had to include them!!! 😭😭 theres not much i could think of because i think theyd just continue their lives like normal over the years and have lots of fun. they are already perfect

dude i made soos so cute. melody fully moved to gravity falls and abuelita lives with them of course. she has lots of fun with the two twins when the couple is at work. oh soos youre such a great……family guy

🍂 i really love all of GF’s characters and felt the need to give some of them their own little future designs because theres so many gorgeous ones of mabel and dipper etc and so little of the others!! (no shade there i just love these characters 🫰（╹◡╹）)

[lovemyromance]

No bc if ALL SJM was doing with Elriel was setting them up to be the charred ruined ashes from which the Elucien & Gwynriel ships set sail....

Why even include Elriel at ALL?

Sorry - correction - why ONLY include Elriel moments from ACOWAR - ACOSF? And no moments with Elucien? No mention even of Gwyn or Gwynriel?

Feysand had setup and chemistry with each other in ACOTAR. Nessian had setup and chemistry as early as ACOMAF, 3 whole books before we got their story.

But you're telling me, on the eve of an Elucien or Gwynriel book, we have had ZERO displays of their chemistry and setup together?

This is not a standalone series. It's a continuation - a spinoff from Feyre's story. There is no reason why there should be ZERO build up between these alleged couples in a spinoff. That's the exact OPPOSITE of what authors do for spinoffs and sequels.

Elriel is not "build up for Elucien". It can't be - if there's no Elucien in sight. Now, if SJM had written Elriel - but ALSO had Elain & Lucien interact and be in each others orbit over the past 3 books - then I would be more open to considering this argument.

But alas / every plot point Elucien should've had to set them up (rescue scene, power discovery scene, giving Elain an almighty weapon scene, potatoes scene, bonus chapter scene) -> all that has been given to Elain & Azriel.

If SJM planned on EL/GA - all Elain & Azriel would've hypothetically shared is an off page hookup. But that's not what we got. We got scenes where they start to understand and care about each other. We get scenes where they show their subtle attraction (and eventually - right in your face attraction) to each other.

If SJM wanted to make Elain & Azriel a bump in each others roads to HEA -> she would've written them the same way Nesta fucked some nameless fae in the first chapter of ACOSF.

Vaguely. Barely a paragraph. ONE mention.

You don't painstakingly set up quiet moments with them in the background of Feyre or Nesta's book. In fact - you don't even bother with setting up any interactions between them until this supposed Elucien/Gwynriel book.

There is simply no reason to waste words like that. SJM has already said the spinoff is dual POV, one couple.

This is not throne of glass where Aelin went through 2 men in 3 books just to end up with someone new. This is not CC, where Ruhn went through Hypaxia to end up with Lydia. Those were multi-POV, and relationships were developed across multiple books.

And all this is just based on the logic of how Elriel has so many interactions together - let alone the actual quality and significance of the actual scenes. Their stories have been woven together since ACOWAR.

SJM compared Elain's potato steam to Azriel's shadows for fucks sake. Think about how y'all would react if Elain baked a caramel tart that was described as "the same golden hue as Lucien's eyes". Think about how y'all would react if Gwyn gave Azriel a book on how to sing better idk - a gift that made him laugh so hard his eyes brightened / a gift that he stared at for a YEAR

Y'all would go nuts, don't even act otherwise.

The mating bond between Elain & Lucien is the obstacle here. Not Elain & Azriel's blooming relationship.

[jakeshands]

teeth

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis: if you had known that talking to sunghoon at a club would lead to watching him kill the people you love, would you still talk to him?

genre: thriller (?), strangers to lovers

featuring: enhypen, yunjin, sakura, and chaewon of lsfm, yeonjun of txt, winter of aespa.

warnings: death. lots of death, murder scenes that arent graphic but still descriptive, lots of mentions of blood, attempted sexual assault, mentions of sexual assault, physical abuse, mentions of stalking, sunghoon and all of enhypen are literally murderers so… profanity, toxic relationship lol, sunghoon possessive as hell he’s crazy, sunghoon punches yeonjun a couple times, mentions of a knife. lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 18.5k

author’s note, jakehands comeback and its with an 18k psychotic murderer sunghoon fic. blame enhypen’s concept film and daphne. this is heavily unedited so please ugnore any mistakes idk if i can be bothered to read through this. also PLEASE read the warnings. please im begging you. also i call winter by her real name “minjeong” in thjs fic because…actually idk why. i just wrote it like that. u will also see many cameos of other idols that arent included in the featured and the reason for that is bcs the featured people are more Important and have dialouge! anyway. enjoy😍 and Read The Warnings.

You weren’t a frequent partygoer. You often preferred staying at home and watching whatever videos popped up on your Youtube Recommended. You usually watch Youtube video after Youtube video before you end up passing out with your phone reaching the 20% battery warning. You found comfort in the familiarity of your Youtube algorithm. But going to clubs? That was a whole other side of the world you didn’t want to touch.

How unfortunate it was, for you, to have a friend like Huh Yunjin. She was everything you weren’t; popular, friendly, a social butterfly, and a total partygoer -- if there was a party nearby, Yunjin was there. She loved parties, she loved alcohol, and she loved making out with girls and boys. Yunjin also enjoyed dragging you to said parties.

So, there you were. Standing in a club with Yunjin to your left and a girl named Sakura to your right. You had only met her a couple of minutes ago, but you were already enjoying her company. She had big eyes, kind of like the cat you had when you were younger. Her smile was extremely pretty so it was no wonder Yunjin always tried her hardest to make Sakura smile.

Sakura was in her last year of college. Soon, thanks to Jessica Day, she’ll have a teaching degree. Sakura was fun to talk to, and Yunjin made sure to include you in any conversation she had with a new face, but you still felt awkward and out of place in a club full of drunk college students clearly having the time of their lives.

“Didn’t you hear?” Sakura exclaims next to you. She was talking to Kim Chaewon. You know of her -- softball captain, an SM Town model, and she moves through guys quicker than you expected.

“Hear what?”

“They found Jaehyun’s body,” Sakura says.

You find yourself more interested in Sakura and Chaewon’s conversation than the one Yunjin was trying to insert you in with another one of her friends named Somi. Jaehyun was the soccer team’s captain for your college. He was also in his final year, and he was getting ready to lead the soccer team to victory at the upcoming championship in a few months. Last week, Jaeyun went missing.

“They found his body?” Chaewon gasps. “Where?”

“Down by the lake,” Sakura responds.

Chaewon gasps again. This eggs Sakura on, her voice dropping and you strain to hear the words she says over the loud booming music filling the club. “He was stabbed twenty-one times,” is all you could hear Sakura say.

You stand straight and push yourself away from the wall you were leaning against. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you tell Yunjin, ducking to whisper it into her ear.

“Oh!” Her untoned blonde hair shifts as she faces you, “do you want me to come with? It’s probably better if I come with --”

“I’ll be okay.”

Yunjin narrows her eyes. “Are you sure? You do know about the recent murders, right?”

You give Yunjin a smile. “I’ll be okay.”

Yunjin purses her lips. “Call me if you get into any trouble, okay?”

You roll your eyes and back away from Yunjin and her little group of friends. “Okay, mom.”

You push your way through the crowded dance floor to reach the other side of the club. Yunjin was telling you all about this club on the ride over. It was a popular club, usually filled up to its maximum capacity fifteen minutes after the club’s doors opened. You could attest to that statement as the line you saw when you arrived at the club was already pretty long.

Since the club was a popular hotspot for young adults, every face you saw was a familiar face. People like Choi Yeonjun and Hwang Hyunjin, two of the most popular dancers on your campus, had taken over the dance floor. Girls and guys flocked to the pair of them like magnets and as you watched them move effortlessly on the dance floor, you couldn’t help but wonder if they were exhausted.

Then, in the corner of the club, tucked away in a booth with cocktails in hand, sat Yuna and Lia, their eyes peering out into the crowded club and giggling as they conversed with each other in between taking sips of their drinks. They were clearly gossiping as their eyes focused on Mark Lee flirting with Choi Yena.

You duck into the hallway leading you to the bathroom. Here, it was less crowded and the music sounded further away. You could finally hear yourself breathe, and you could hear your footsteps. Pushing open the door to the female’s bathroom, you’re met with the sight of a small line beginning to form.

You smile at the girls in front of you and take your place beside them, resting on the wall beside the hand dryer. Fishing out your phone, you text Yunjin to let her know you reached the bathroom safely, before switching over to Candy Crush.

You’re able to get to a stall in no time, and as you exit the stall, feeling a bit lighter, you’re shoved to the side as a girl with her hand covering her mouth and her friends all rush into the stall. The sound of retching echoes around the bathroom. You step up to the sink and wash your hands when someone nudges your shoulder.

“Here,” Bae Sumin hands you her mascara. She’s friends with Yunjin, that’s how you know her. “You should probably retouch your mascara. Have you been wiping your eyes?”

You look in the mirror. Your mascara was slightly smudged and you smile at Sumin. “Oh, I didn’t realize.”

Sumin smiles. “Girls help girls.”

You hand Sumin back her mascara after touching up your eyelashes and you exit the bathroom, adjusting the length of your black cocktail dress so it covers more of your thighs when you bump into something hard.

You squeak and stumble back, raising your head to see a person standing in front of you. His eyes are dark and his face is hardened. Not a single emotion escapes from the male figure in front of you and your stomach drops. There’s a sinister aura clouding him and your heartbeat quickens. “S-sorry,” you stutter meekly, your eyes dropping to your feet.

“It’s okay,” his voice is warm. It contrasts his appearance; icy face, black clothes, and eyes that raise goosebumps. “You should look where you’re going next time. Especially in a club like this.”

You glance up and smile at the male in front of you. “I’ll remember that.”

“I should probably apologize as well,” the male says after some thought, “I’m in a bit of a rush so I didn’t see you. So, sorry, are you okay?”

Instead of your heart dropping to your gut, it begins to flutter.

Your cheeks redden. “Oh. I’m okay. Seriously. And you don’t need to apologize!”

There’s a whisper of a smile on the male’s face. “Alright. Enjoy the rest of your night, and stay safe.”

Your eyes follow the male as he rushes past you. “You too!” You call out, your heart racing.

After gaining no response, you compose yourself and step back out into the club. Everything is the same as it was before; Lia and Yuna gossiping in the corner, Mark flirting with Yena, and Yeonjun and Hyunjin owning the dance floor.

Yunjin makes eye contact with you as you approach the small space Yunjin and her friends occupy against the wall of the club. She beams as you and all the nervousness and awkwardness filling your body float away. Maybe going to clubs and partying wasn’t so bad.

—-

You groan and let your head drop onto the desk beneath you. The first lecture of the day just ended and even though you thought you were prepared for the course, this upcoming assignment proves how wrong you were. You would never be prepared for any of the assignments your creative writing class has.

Standing, you exit the classroom with your ears still ringing. After Yunjin had pulled you onto the dance floor, you found yourself dancing alongside Yeonjun. You allowed the older to put his hands on your hips as he guided you through the songs playing in the club and you found yourself having fun -- a lot more fun than you usually would have curled up on your bed watching Youtube video after Youtube video. As you think back to last night, you also remember the way your skin crawled with the feeling of someone watching you, but when you looked over your shoulder, you couldn’t see anyone.

Shuddering, you step into the sun and begin your brisk walk over to the cafe where you regularly meet up with Yunjin after lectures. It was probably nothing. Since you were having so much fun last night, maybe your brain had decided to try and drag you back down into the pits of distaste and regret of entering unknown territory.

Entering the cafe, you smile at the barista and join Yunjin at your usual table. She was hunched over a piece of paper in front of you, her eyebrows drawn together. “Why are you staring at the paper like that?” You ask, digging around in your shoulder bag.

“I’m writing lyrics,” Yunjin replies.

“With your mind?”

“I wish,” Yunjin groans, leaning back on the chair.

You giggle and power up your laptop. At the same time, the cafe door jingles open and a breeze rushes through the room. Someone laughs loudly and your attention is drawn to the group of boys entering the cafe.

Yunjin’s eyes widen and she sits straight in her chair. “No way. They come to this cafe too?”

You realize who the group of boys were -- Lee Heeseung, Park Jay, Sim Jake, and Park Sunghoon. They’re part of a larger group of seven. Often, whenever you mentioned the university you were attending to outsiders, immediately they thought of that group of seven. If your university was mentioned, seven names would be mentioned after.

You don’t know much about the group. They keep to themselves and never mingle outside of their small social circle. You don’t really see them around campus that much, but you are aware of how all of them excel in academics. You’re aware that Sim Jake is on the soccer team. You’re aware Lee Heeseung is on the ice hockey team, and you’re aware Park Sunghoon was a former figure skater.

Park Sunghoon.

Your eyes pass over the taller male and a realization strikes you. His handsome face; his cold aura; his silver hair and full lips -- you bumped into him at the club. You shrink in your seat and hang your head, muttering profanity.

Your cheeks flush when you think of his warm voice, and the gentle look in his eyes when he apologized. The contrasting nature of Sunghoon surprises you. You never thought someone with such a cold face would have such a warm voice -- a warm heart.

“Yunjin,” you lean across the table, your voice quiet. “I bumped into Sunghoon last night. In the club.”

Yunjin’s jaw drops. “You did?! Why didn’t you tell me? He didn’t hurt you, did he? Did he try to murder you?”

“Huh?” You were confused. “Why would he want to murder me?”

“You haven’t heard the rumors?” Yunjin asks.

“Jen, I only come to campus for my lectures,” you remind her.

“Right. Anyway, there’s a rumor going around that Sunghoon’s the one doing all the murders. People think he’s some kind of psychopath.”

You raise your eyebrows and glance over at the group of four. Jake and Sunghoon are grinning as they tease Jay who stands between them. “Psychopath?”

“Sunghoon was apparently seen with Jaehyun before he was reported missing,” Yunjin explains. “And apparently someone saw Sunghoon washing blood off his hands in a public bathroom a couple of nights back.”

You hum and sit back in your chair. “I don’t think it was Sunghoon. He apologized to me last night even though I bumped into him.”

Yunjin purses her lips but doesn’t say anything. You glance back over at the four boys and you immediately make eye contact with the topic of your conversation. Park Sunghoon’s staring back at you, his face is stoic, and your heart tremors. You attempt a hesitant smile and Sunghoon’s the first to look away.

—-

A week later you end up outside an unfamiliar house. Beside you, Yunjin is talking to a girl named Kazuha and you’re left alone to look up at the mansion-like house in front of you. People are still swarming in and out of the house and you begin to feel claustrophobic even though you haven’t entered the house.

“Jay’s house,” a voice says behind you. Turning around, you smile at Ryujin. Lia and Yeji are standing behind Ryujin, bickering with Seungmin and Hyunjin but you pay them no mind. “The first party he’s thrown in a month. His parents banned parties in their family vacation house because of the last party. His parents are out of town for the next month, though, so Jay’s going to throw all the parties he can.”

“This is their vacation home? Why do they need a vacation home in Seoul even though they live in Seoul?” You gaze back at the house in amazement.

“Rich people,” Ryujin responds. “Filthy rich.”

Yunjin reaches out and grabs your forearm. She exchanges a few words with Ryujin and then you’re being pulled into the house. It was loud and overcrowded and everywhere you looked there was alcohol. Yunjin has to practically shout to talk to you, and the flashing party lights force you to squint as you look at the person talking to you.

Sakura was by your side once more and Chaewon was also there. Chaewon greets you with a smile and immediately launches back into her conversation with Sakura. With help from Sakura, you ease into their conversation and Yunjin shoves a plastic cup of some strong alcohol into your hand. You’ve only taken a sip and the bitter taste that spilled down your throat was an uncomfortable taste.

“Jaehyun’s death has been ruled a homicide,” Sakura was saying, deeply interested in Jaehyun’s case. “The police don’t have any leads, though, so it’s basically a cold case.”

“How do you know all this stuff?” You ask Sakura.

Sakura smiles and taps her ears. “I hear everything. I’m easy to miss in a room.”

“She’s like a mouse,” Chaewon giggles.

“A mouse draws attention,” you point out. “No one likes mice.”

“I’m a fly on the wall, then,” Sakura cuts in. “Whatever I am, I’m a professional eavesdropper and gossiper.”

“Yunjin was telling me about the Park Sunghoon rumor,” you decide to test the waters. Surely Sakura and Chaewon know more about these rumors than Yunjin. “Is he really a psychopath? Did he really kill Jaehyun?”

“Park Sunghoon,” Chaewon says, rolling her eyes. “I grew up with him.”

“He is a very cold person,” Sakura muses, sipping whatever was in her plastic cup.

“Sunghoon was an odd boy,” Chaewon continues. “I don’t think he has emotions. Or empathy. His sister broke her ankle and he forced her to walk home.”

“Really?” You gasp. Maybe, Park Sunghoon was a cold person with a cold heart.

“Even some of the lecturers are afraid of him,” Sakura says, her tone all-knowing. “That’s why he easily passes hard classes -- they’re all too afraid to fail him.”

“Sunghoon liked killing things when he was younger,” Chaewon says, scowling. “I caught him stabbing a large rat and then opening up that rat.” Chaewon shudders. “The look on his face when he caught me still haunts me to this day.”

“Sunghoon also has a temper,” Sakura adds, “I’ve heard from people he’s done group projects with, that he threatened them all if they didn’t do his part of the project for him.”

You begin to feel queasy. The Park Sunghoon you’re hearing about from the people around you isn’t the Park Sunghoon you encountered all those nights ago. The Park Sunghoon you encountered was warm. He has a warm voice, and his apology was warm.

You down the rest of the alcohol in your plastic cup even though you don’t like the taste. “I need to pee,” you excuse yourself from Chaewon and Sakura and begin walking aimlessly. It would be nice if you were able to find a bathroom, but this house seems to be endless -- everywhere you walk, there are people dancing and kissing. Everywhere you walk, there is alcohol and familiar faces.

Eventually, you find some stairs and make your way up to the second floor. You pad down the hallway, the music still present but a lot more muffled. Aimlessly, you twist and turn through the maze of a hallway and eventually end up in an empty hallway.

Leaning against the wall behind you, you hang your head in your hands. All you can think about is the way Sunghoon’s eyes slightly softened when he apologized to you, and the gentle way he spoke to you when he apologized. You felt like you were going insane.

You hear quick footsteps approaching your empty hallway and you stiffen, your heart racing beneath your ribs. A familiar face rounds the corner and your face softens into a smile. Lee Jaeho was in your sociology class. He was kind to you, and always helped you study for the upcoming exams.

Jaeho seemed to be a bit dazed though. He wasn’t walking straight and when he saw you, a bright smile broke out across his face. His words slur together when he greets you and pulls you into a hug, and you know he’s off his face drunk.

“I was looking for you!” Jaeho slurs as he pulls out of the hug, still gripping to your shoulders. “I was told you were in the bathroom but I couldn’t find you! I got so worried, Y/N.”

“Ah, I’m sorry,” you apologize with a gentle smile.

“It’s okay,” Jaeho grips your hand in his and pulls you down the hallway.

“Where are we going, Jaeho?”

“We need some privacy.”

Your heart races. “Oh. Why?”

Jaeho pulls open a door and pushes you inside. The door closes and Jaeho rests his back against the door. Your hands sweat and you rub them against your skirt. “Jaeho?” You ask, unsure. “Why are we in a room?”

“Y/N,” Jaeho sounds sure of himself, even if he’s slurring his words. “I like you. I’ve liked you ever since we first talked in Freshman year.”

“Oh,” you feel speechless, “thank you for telling me, Jaeho.”

“You like me back, don’t you?”

“Oh,” you feel taken aback.

“I see the way you look at me.” Jaeho takes a step closer and you take a step back.

“What way do I look at you, Jaeho?”

Jaeho smiles but it’s a different smile. The smell of alcohol invades the room and your breath hitches. “You look at me like you want me, Y/N. I want you to.”

The back of your knees hit the bed behind you and you fall back onto the bed. Jaeho hovers over you and you feel helpless. “Jaeho,” you don’t know what to say. “I don’t like you like that. I think you’re a nice friend --”

“Don’t fucking say that shit,” Jaeho growls. Within a few seconds, his whole demeanor changes and your helplessness turns into fear. He pushes you further back onto the bed and climbs on top. Instantly, your fight or flight response kicks in.

You squirm about on the bed as Jaeho tries to keep you still. Your legs kick up and you shake your head from side to side. “Let go of me, Jaeho,” you beg, your eyes burning.

“Stop moving,” Jaeho hisses, his hands squeezing your arms tightly.

You cry out. “Jaeho --”

One of Jaeho’s hands curls around your throat and you can’t breathe. You attempt to gasp for air but it's pointless. Your legs still kick and your free hand tries to pull Jaeho’s hand away from your throat. Your eyes burn and tears begin to trail down the side of your face.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” Jaeho groans.

Jaeho loosens his hand from restricting your right hand to the bed and you take this second of freedom to slap Jaeho across the face. Since he’s drunk, his motor movement is unbalanced. His grip loosens around your throat in shock and you use both of your hands to push Jaeho away.

You scramble off the bed and race over to the door.

“Y/N --” Jaeho calls your name. He grabs your wrist as you go to tug open the door.

“Let go of me,” you hiss, anger overtaking the fear.

“Y/N -- I’m sorry -- I --” Jaeho stumbles over his apology, the alcohol influencing his words and actions.

Turning back around, you see red and backhand Jaeho across the face. His head turns sharply to the side and his cheek begins to bleed -- the rings on your fingers must’ve cut into his skin from how hard you backhanded him.

Jaeho turns to look at you and fear replaces the anger you were feeling previously. With a racing heart, you tug open the door and race down the hallway, Jaeho calling your name as he follows you out. Tears stream down your face as you try to find your way back to the party. Maybe you should’ve asked Yunjin to take you to the bathroom.

Impulsively, you open a door leading to another room and dive inside, shutting the door behind you. You slump against the wall beside the door and cover your mouth with your hand as Jaeho goes charging past the room. Your chest rises and falls rapidly and you can’t stop the tears.

You don’t know how long you spend in the dark room, your hand pressed to your mouth to muffle your whimpers, when the door opens suddenly. Your hand falls away from your mouth and you whimper as you fall away from the wall.

The silence is loud and you slowly look up, hoping who you see isn’t Jaeho but Yunjin.

Park Sunghoon stands above you, frowning. “Y/N?”

Your hands cover your face as you break out into sobs. Relief floods your body. You’re glad that it wasn’t Jaeho who opened that door, but Sunghoon -- who is perceived as a psychopathic murderer and you should probably feel even more afraid, but you don’t. Because facing a suspected murderer is better than being assaulted at the hands of a friend.

Hands gently pull your own away from your face. A finger tilts your chin up and you’re looking at Sunghoon again. He’s crouching in front of you, his eyes soft. His thumbs press against your cheeks and brush away the tears streaming down your cheeks. You feel warm in Sunghoon’s presence.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says your name again. “What happened?” His voice is light. It’s not like Jaeho’s tough and demanding tone.

You only shake your head and cry some more in response. You can still feel the phantom squeeze of Jaeho’s hands on your throat.

The fingers curled around your chin tighten ever so slightly. “Y/N,” Sunghoon’s voice is deeper and a bit demanding -- like Jaeho’s voice moments before, but you don’t feel scared, you still feel safe. “Tell me what happened.”

You inhale sharply and focus on Sunghoon’s face. His eyes are no longer soft, instead, they’re the familiar darkness you saw when you first met him. His lips are screwed into a straight line. His face is cold, but his hands and his heart are warm. “Jaeho,” you whisper. “He --” gently, your hand brushes against your neck. “He strangled me.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. His hands slip away from your face and he rises to his feet. “Your friends are worried about you, Y/N. Let’s go back to the party.” You take his outstretched hand and stand. You wipe away the last of your tears and follow Sunghoon out of the room.

“Did Jaeho do anything else?” Sunghoon asks. You have to quicken your pace to keep up with Sunghoon’s long strides. He easily moves through the house which reminds you that he’s friends with the owner of this house.

You don’t say anything in response to Sunghoon. Should you tell him or not? Would he believe you or not? Would he excuse Jaeho’s actions by saying he was drunk and drunk people don’t know what they’re doing?

“Y/N,” Sunghoon interrupts your thoughts. “I asked you a question.”

“He didn’t do anything else,” you say quietly.

Sunghoon huffs and grips your shoulders, forcing you to stop walking. The two of you stand in the middle of the dark hallway, Sunghoon’s face close to yours as he bends down to meet your eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Why do you care so much?” You retort, curiosity finally appearing through the fear you felt. Why did Sunghoon care so much about you? And what Jaeho did to you? You don’t even know Sunghoon. You just know he attends your college and hangs out with six other boys. (You also know about the rumors, but you don’t care for them because Sunghoon’s shown he’s not the psychopathic murderer the rumors say he is.)

“Because no man should ever lay his hands on a woman,” was Sunghoon’s response. “So, I’ll ask you again. Did Jaeho do anything else?”

Sunghoon’s eyes shine with intent -- he meant what he said. You find some kind of relief looking into Sunghoon’s eyes, you would have someone on your side. “Jaeho, he -- he said he liked me, and then he --” you break off your sentence and shrug. You can’t seem to force the bitter words out of your mouth. He almost forced me to have sex with him.

“I understand,” Sunghoon says in response. He turns away, but you catch his hand.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” You ask Sunghoon.

“Do you want me to?”

You shake your head. “Please don’t tell anyone. Don’t tell my friends. Can you keep this between us? Please?” Your eyes are wide as you beg Sunghoon, and you grip his hand tightly. You really don’t want anyone finding out about what happened between you and Jaeho.

Sunghoon smiles softly. “I’ll take it to my grave, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Sunghoon,” you sigh in relief.

“There’s no need to thank me yet, Y/N,” Sunghoon hums. “Which Jaeho are we talking about, by the way?”

“Lee Jaeho,” you descend the stairs leading to the party with Sunghoon. The music sounds louder than it was before. “He was in our Freshman sociology class.”

“I hated that class,” Sunghoon grumbles.

You giggle and Sunghoon’s eyes light up.

—-

The morning after, you exit your lecture with your phone buzzing away in your pocket. Jaeho had been trying to contact you all day, and now that it was late afternoon, you were beginning to grow tired of his spam messages.

Scowling, you reach into your pocket and pull out your phone. Jaeho’s messages fill up your lock screen and as you scroll through all his messages to try and find a worthwhile notification, the glare of the sun fades away.

“Y/N.”

Looking up, Sunghoon is standing in the way of the sun beaming down on you. “Sunghoon,” you were surprised to find the male outside your lecture. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” Sunghoon responds easily. “Where are you going now?”

“To the cafe on campus. I usually meet up with Yunjin there after all our lectures are finished,” you explain to Sunghoon as he falls into step beside you.

“I’ll walk you there,” Sunghoon says, smiling softly.

Your heart flutters.

“Has Jaeho tried to talk to you?” Sunghoon asks.

Your smile is tight. “He’s been messaging me all day. It’s getting annoying.”

“Will you hear him out?”

“Fuck no. I’ll never forgive him for what he did, even if he was drunk.”

“Being drunk is no excuse, Y/N,” Sunghoon says.

You hum. “Yeah. How do you even know who I am, anyway?” You look at Sunghoon eagerly, the curiosity within you brimming. Ever since Sunghoon uttered your name last night, you had been curious -- how did Sunghoon know who you were? And why did he care this badly about you? It wasn’t like you were in the same circle as him. You’ve been holed up in your dorm for most of your college life, and the one time you go out to party, you somehow get involved with Park Sunghoon.

Sunghoon laughs like you just asked him an incredibly bizarre question. “Y/N, we had classes together freshman year. Don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember!” You splutter, your cheeks heating up. “I didn’t expect you to remember.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. “You’re not easy to forget, Y/N.”

It’s like you forget how to function. You’re not easy to forget. Who just says that? You can’t breathe and you can’t feel your heart beating. Your fingers feel numb and your stomach is an ocean of butterflies. And this is all because of Sunghoon. The so-called psychotic murderer.

“You can’t just say that, Sunghoon!” You exclaim, your cheeks heating up.

Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s true. You were the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen -- still the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

(Sunghoon’s words were driving you crazy -- why? Because it’s been two years since your last relationship. Having someone talk about you like this is only furthering your growing infatuation with the taller, brooding boy.)

“I was always jealous whenever you talked to other guys.”

“Excuse me?” You were taken aback by this piece of news. Sunghoon was jealous? Back in freshman year?

“I wanted to be the one you talked to,” Sunghoon admits with ease. “I wanted all of your attention.”

You truly don’t know what to think. Sunghoon’s words are driving you crazy. There’s so much to take in. There’s so much to discover you probably won’t sleep at all tonight.

“Oh, we’re here,” Sunghoon doesn’t sound too happy. It’s a shame your heart feels the same way. You don’t want to leave Sunghoon’s side, but from the way Yunjin’s looking at you from inside the cafe, you won’t be allowed to ditch this hangout.

“Thank you for walking me, Sunghoon,” you say. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Likewise. Do you have my number?”

Seriously. Sunghoon never fails to surprise you.

“No.”

“Do you want my number?”

You pull out your phone in lieu of a response.

“Text or call me if you see Jaeho,” Sunghoon says, waving goodbye after you exchange numbers. “I’ll answer right away.”

You snort and Sunghoon frowns. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

You hate how his words warm you.

“See you around, Sunghoon.”

“Definitely,” Sunghoon grins and you step into the cafe, exhaling deeply.

—-

An alumnus of your university was found dead in the alleyway beside your dorm building. His name was Taeyong. You remember him as the senior that always vaped during his lectures. He was a nice guy, though, always ready to help out anyone who asked for help.

You can’t help but shiver every time you pass by the crime scene all taped up with yellow tape hindering anyone from entering the scene. It’s been a few days since Sunghoon walked you to the cafe -- that was also the day Taeyon was killed. His time of death was put at around 11:30 PM. His death has also been ruled as a homicide.

You’ve been texting Sunghoon often. Most of the texts are short and dry, but seeing Sunghoon’s text notifications amidst all of Jaeho’s makes your heart leap in excitement. Anything to do with Sunghoon sends your heart into overdrive after his smooth talking a couple of days back.

Other than Sunghoon’s texts brightening your day, you’ve been on edge walking back to your dorm in the late hours of the evening. You can’t help but feel like someone’s watching you walk back to your dorm. Your spine always tingles and your heartbeat is loud in your ears as you walk home. You don’t listen to music anymore, opting to stay alert in case you’re the next victim of whoever is killing the students who attend your university.

“You’re still talking to Sunghoon?” Yunjin asks, peering over your shoulder as you text Sunghoon while you were both at the cafe.

“Yep.”

“He’s a murderer, Y/N.”

You snort and glance at Yunjin. “It’s rumored he’s a murderer. I don’t understand why anyone would listen to what comes out of Minjeong’s mouth anyway. She’s always talking bullshit.”

“Y/N…” Yunjin sighs.

“I know,” you reply softly. “But I’m fine. Seriously. Sunghoon treats me nicely. You don’t have to be so afraid, Jen. I know you mean well, but can’t you trust me?”

“Fine,” Yunjin scowls. “But just so you know, I have an ‘I told you so’ ready.”

You grin. “Of course you do. I should probably get going, my shift starts soon.” You rise from your sit and wave goodbye to Yunjin as you exit the cafe. You work at a nearby convenience store, the owner of the convenience store was quite nice so you didn’t mind working there, but the shifts you got were sometimes not ideal.

Today, you had the five to ten shift. When you got there, you exchanged a few words with your coworker that was leaving and then you begin to serve the customers entering the store. Slowly, the amount of customers entering the exiting the store dies down and you begin to pass the time by playing games on your phone.

You’re so focused on the game you’re playing that you don't hear the familiar bell jingling to alert you to a new customer, nor do you hear voices loudly discussing what they wanted to buy. You curse under your breath as you fail the Candy Crush level once more, and someone clears their throat.

The familiar faces of Jay, Heeseung, and Jake all stare at you as a blush quickly rises to your cheeks. “Oh. Hi! Sorry about that,” you push your phone out of view and begin to scan their items. “Would you like a bag?”

“Sure,” Jay says.

It’s awkward as you scan their items.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Jay finally breaks the silence.

“Yeah.” You don’t know why your heart begins to race.

“Why are you involving yourself with Sunghoon?”

“Pardon?” You glance up at Jay, frowning.

“You’re aware of the rumors, right?” Jay asks with a shrug, “I just don’t know why you would hang around Sunghoon.”

You snort. “I think I should be the one asking you that. You’re his friends, after all.”

“Brothers,” Jake pipes up. “We’re brothers. We grew up together.”

“Oh,” you smile at Jake. “That’s cute.”

“Look,” Jay says, bringing your attention back to him. “All I’m saying is that you should be careful, Y/N.”

You ignore Jay and read out the total showing on your screen. “Are you trying to say there’s some truth to those rumors?” You ask as Jay searches for his wallet.

Jay looks at you for a long time. You begin to feel uneasy and your stomach swoops. With the way Jay’s looking at you, there must be some kind of truth to the rumors swirling about. Maybe Sunghoon is a murderer. Maybe you’re his next victim.

You try to play off the unease you feel. “Whatever. I’m my own person, I can make my own assumptions about people. I don’t appreciate people telling me who I should and shouldn’t talk to, or hang out with. Would you like your receipt?”

“Sure,” Jay holds his hand out. “Keep the change, though. I don’t need it.”

“Sure, whatever.” You hate how easily Jay got underneath your skin.

“Look, Y/N, just be careful, okay?” Jay says gently. “You have Sunghoon’s number, right?”

You nod your head.

“Don’t be afraid to call it. See you around.” Jay nods his head at you and turns around, leaving the store with Jake. Heeseung hangs back and turns to you, smiling lightly. “Could I have the change? Jay may not need it, but I do.”

“Sure,” you hand Heeseung the change.

“Jay means well,” Heeseung says, pocketing the change. “He’s just… overprotective.”

“I guess that’s understandable.”

“And, seriously, don’t hesitate to call Sunghoon when you need to escape a…sticky situation.” You watch as Heeseung’s face lights up while he talks and you feel as though you’re being left out of an inside joke.

“Heeseung,” Jake calls out, poking his head into the convenience store. “C’mon, we have things to do.”

“See you, Y/N.” Heeseung salutes you goodbye before exiting the store, leaving you all alone.

The three boys leave you alone with your thoughts for the rest of your shift. Your shift rushes by quickly, and before you know it, you’re exiting the convenience store into the windy night. Shuddering, you tug your coat closer and begin your walk back to your dorm.

Pulling out your phone, you shoot Yunjin a text to let her know you’re on your way home. After pocketing your phone, a hand reaches out and clamps over your mouth before pulling you into a nearby alley. Your shrieks are muffled by the hand and your arms are restrained as you’re pulled further into the alley.

You’re thrown onto the ground, your knees scraping the ground harshly, and your palms begin to sting. Huffing, you push your hair out of your face and look up to see Jaeho standing over you. Your eyes widen in fear and you struggle to stand. Your legs feel numb and your heart is racing at an incredible pace it makes you feel lightheaded.

“Jaeho?”

“Y/N,” Jaeho doesn’t sound happy. The tone of his voice sets you on edge and you immediately begin to search for a way out. “Why haven’t you been responding to me?”

You look back at Jaeho. “You pulled me into an alley to ask that?”

“Don’t play with me, Y/N,” Jaeho threatens. “If you scream no one will hear you.” He takes a step forward and you take a step back, hitting the cold brick wall.

“You’re a piece of shit, Jaeho, that’s why I wasn’t responding.”

Jaeho slaps you across the face. It stings and you take a deep, shuddering breath. Your hands curl into fists and you try to keep your emotions under control.

“How many more times do you want me to say sorry, Y/N? I was drunk, I wasn’t thinking straight -- I didn’t mean what I did that night. Why are you acting like such a bitch about it? You know you can reject me, right? I’m not going to make a big deal about it.”

“I’ve already rejected you, Jaeho,” you spit. “I did it the night you almost tried to have sex with me, and I’ve been doing it for the past few days by not responding to you. God, can’t you take the hint? I’m not interested. You’re so stupid.”

Jaeho takes a step back and holds up his hands. “I obviously don’t remember you rejecting me while I was drunk. But, thank you for finally giving me a clear rejection. Now, I’ll apologize once more. Sorry, Y/N. Can we be friends again?”

“Why the fuck would I want to be friends with a rapist and an abuser, Jaeho?”

“You fucking bitch --”

“Get away from me!” You shriek, using all your strength to push Jaeho back. He stumbles over the trash bags sitting behind him and there’s a loud whacking sound as his head makes contact with the edge of the large garbage container. Jaeho slumps to the ground, not moving.

You’re suspended in time. You stare at Jaeho’s lifeless body. Something weird simmers in your stomach and you contemplate turning and leaving Jaeho to rot away in this alley. A car backfiring sends the world spinning and you snap out of your daze.

“Holy shit. Fuck. Fuck. Jaeho?” You rush over to Jaeho and reach out to shake him. He flops around lifelessly. “This is so not funny, Jaeho. Fuck. Wake up!” After a minute of trying to shake Jaeho awake, you sit back on your heels and bury your head in your hands. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” You repeat over and over.

Your hands shake as you pull out your phone. You open up Yunjin’s contact information but gnaw on your bottom lip as your finger hovers over the call button. You look back at Jaeho lying lifelessly in front of you, the side of his head bleeding profusely before you exit Yunjin’s contact and click on Sunghoon’s.

It only rings once.

“Y/N?”

“Oh my god. Sunghoon. I -- I need your help.”

“Y/N? Where are you?”

“Sunghoon, I think I just -- oh my god.”

“Y/N. Where are you?”

You break out into loud sobs. “I didn’t mean to do it. I swear, Sunghoon. I swear.”

“Y/N --”

“I’m down some alley,” you say between your sobs. “I don’t know where I am. Jaeho dragged me here.”

Sunghoon swears and you hear muffled voices. “Stay where you are, I’ll find you.” The call ends and you’re left alone with Jaeho’s lifeless body. You try to muffle your sobs and steady the beating of your heart but it doesn’t work as images of Jaeho hitting his head against the metal garbage container replay over and over.

“Y/N.” A voice shouts down the alleyway some minutes later. Then you hear footsteps rapidly hitting the ground and slowly, Sunghoon comes into view. “Y/N,” he says again, this time in relief.

Sunghoon pulls you up and cups your face gently. He wipes away your tears again and smooths out your hair. “What happened, Y/N? Are you hurt? Are you okay?” His rapid questions and the warm concern in his eyes make your head hurt. You just want to be in your dorm already, tucked beneath your blankets next to Yunjn.

“Sunghoon,” you whisper. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to kill him.”

“What? Kill who?” Sunghoon’s hands grip your face tighter and he pulls you close. His whole demeanor changes after hearing your previous words.

“Behind you.”

Sunghoon turns and finally sees Jaeho’s body -- except, you see him sitting up. You gasp and break free from Sunghoon, crouching down beside Jaeho. He blinks a couple of times and glances around his surroundings as though he was trying to remember how he got here.

“Jaeho,” you cry out. “Oh my god I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to --”

Jaeho grabs your wrist tightly, a vicious sneer carved on his face. “You slut. Are you trying to kill me? Why would you fucking push me like that? You’re not getting away with this, Y/N.”

“No -- Jaeho -- I --”

“Y/N. Move away.”

Looking over your shoulder, you see Sunghoon staring down at both of you with a cold expression. A metal pipe dangles in his right hand.

“Sunghoon?”

“Move away,” he repeats, now looking at Jaeho.

You move to the side, Jaeho’s hand easily slipping away from your wrist.

“When did you get here?” Jaeho’s sneer falls off his face as Sunghoon corners him against the garbage container. Jaeho’s eyes flit over to you. “Did the fucking bitch call you? Of course she did. Y/N starts arguments she can’t finish because she’s pathetic. All bark no bite.”

Sunghoon crouches down in front of Jaeho and presses his fingers against the cut on the side of his head. Jaeho flinches. Pulling his fingers away, they’re covered in blood, and the smile that spreads across Sunghoon’s face chills you to the bone.

Slowly, Sunghoon licks Jaeho’s blood off his fingers. You can’t look away.

“What the fuck, man?” Jaeho exclaims.

Rising to his feet, the smile slips from Sunghoon’s face. He raises the metal pipe in his right hand and swings it through the air, whacking Jaeho in the head with it. The boy cries out and sprawls across the concrete, his hands coming up to clutch the side of his face.

Sunghoon doesn’t stop. He swings the metal pole through the air and hits Jaeho again. And again. This time, with two hands. Jaeho can’t defend himself as Sunghoon hits him in the head with the pole over and over again. You can’t move, your hands covering your mouth as you watch blood splatter the concrete beneath Jaeho, the brick wall beside him, the garbage container behind him, and Sunghoon in front of him.

Sunghoon stops once Jaeho is no longer whimpering in pain. The bloody metal pole drops to the ground and Sunghoon turns around, brushing his hair away from his face. There’s a bloodlust look on his face that uproots your body and you begin to move away from Sunghoon as he steps forward.

“Get the fuck away from me,” you warn shakily.

Sunghoon doesn’t listen and he continues to walk closer.

“I’m serious, Sunghoon. Why the fuck did you do that?”

“Do what, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks.

“I’m not in the mood for this. You just fucking murdered Jaeho.”

“He was going to die anyway,” Sunghoon shrugs.

“What the fuck,” you whisper. “You’re crazy.”

Sunghoon grins in response and you open your mouth to scream. In a matter of seconds Sunghoon has you pushed back up against the brick wall, a hand over mouth while his other arm is lightly pressed against your throat.

“Are you fucking dumb, Y/N?” Sunghoon hisses. “Why the fuck would you scream? You do know this is now considered a crime scene, right? If you scream, you’ll attract attention, and I don’t think you want attention right now considering you watched me beat Jaeho to death.”

Reality finally sinks in for you. “Oh my god,” you say. “You killed Jaeho and I -- I watched. Oh my god. I didn’t stop you. Oh my god.” Your head spins and everything feels woozy. Your knees give out but Sunghoon is there to catch you.

“Y/N, listen to me,” Sunghoon demands. “Let me make a call. And then, I’m going to walk you back to your dorm. You’ll take a shower, eat something, and maybe drink something, and then you’ll go to bed, okay? Let me handle Jaeho. I’ll come for you when everything has been handled. Do not call or text me, okay?”

You don’t say anything. You still feel like you’re floating.

Sunghoon’s hands squish your cheeks as he shakes your head from side to side. “Y/N. Say something. I need to know you understand me.”

“Yes.” You blurt. “Okay. I understand.”

Sunghoon smiles gently and you don’t understand how he could smile like that after ruthlessly murdering someone. You feel Sunghoon kiss your forehead. “You did a good job, okay?” Sunghoon pulls away from you and helps you to the ground, letting you draw your knees to your chest. “You should always call me before you call anyone else, okay? I’ll always be there to help you.”

You nod your head.

Sunghoon tsks. “Repeat after me, Y/N. You’ll call me before you call anyone else.”

“I’ll call you before I call anyone else,” you repeat in a small voice.

Sunghoon smiles, his hand running through your hair and caressing your cheek. “Good girl.” He stands and walks away, and you bury your head into your arms.

—-

Be normal is what Sunghoon whispered to you two days ago before he allowed you to enter your dorm. You needed to act normal and that’s what you did. You made sure to engage with Yunjin and politely talk to any of her friends who hung out with the both of you during the two days after you watched Sunghoon murder Jaeho.

You haven’t seen Sunghoon in two days, nor have you contacted him. You’ve seen his younger friends around campus but you don’t have the confidence to approach them.

You’re having nightmares now. Jaeho is always present and you always wake up sweating. You haven’t gotten much sleep so you move through your school days zombie-like. The nightmare is always the same scenario; Jaeho’s chasing after you. He corners you in an alley and he beats you to death with the exact metal pole Sunghoon used on him.

News of Jaeho’s disappearance spread quickly across campus. His friends were the last to see him -- he had walked out of his apartment without telling them where he was going. At any mention of Jaeho, you freeze up. You can’t help it.

The doors to your lecture theater swing open and you’re drawn back to the present. The headmaster of your university, who you’ve only seen a few times, enters the lecture hall flanked by two policemen. A ripple of whispers runs through the lecture hall and your heart begins to beat quicker.

“Is L/N Y/N here today?”

All eyes turn to you and you shrink into your seat.

“Miss. Y/N would you please come with us? We have a few questions to ask,” one of the police officers addresses you. You pack up your things and slide out of your seat. Everyone is watching you as you walk over to the headmaster and the two policemen. You already know what this will be about.

There’s a brisk silent walk over to an empty lab. The headmaster exchanges a few words with the two policemen before he leaves you alone in their company. Your head is bowed as you sit at one of the tables, a microscope beside you and a petri dish in front of you.

“L/N Y/N?” One of the policemen asks.

You raise your head. “That’s me.”

“I’m Officer Kim and this is Officer Jeong. We have a few questions for you regarding the disappearance of Lee Jaeho.”

You nod your head.

“First, I’ll ask you an easy question. What was Jaeho to you? A friend?”

You open your mouth but struggle to answer. Was Jaeho a friend? You think back to the night at the party when he lay his hands on you without your consent. He lost the privilege to be called a friend the moment he climbed on top of you -- but, he was drunk and he had apologized to you numerous times. Doesn’t that restore the title of friendship?

“Yeah, we were friends,” you agree softly.

It’s silent as Officer Jeong notes some things down. “We managed to retrieve Jaeho’s phone,” Officer Kim says, pulling out a sealed bag containing Jaeho’s phone. Your heart skips a beat and your eyes widen. They found his phone?

“His phone?” You question.

Officer Kim nods his head. “We found it discarded on the roadside. Obviously, it’s been smashed, but we were able to retrieve the chip.” Officer Kim eyes you. “Do you know what I’m about to ask you?”

You don’t respond. Your hands curl into fists beneath the table and your nails dig into your palms.

“Why had Jaeho been texting you frequently up until his death? And why weren’t you responding?”

“That’s a private matter.”

Officer Kim smiles. “Private or not, we need to know.”

“I don’t think you need to know.” You don’t want to admit the truth. You don’t want to tell the police that Jaeho had assaulted you. Admitting it to Sunghoon was terrifying enough but to officers of the law?

“Can I be frank, Y/N?”

“Sure.”

“You’re a prime suspect in this investigation. I think you might want to tell us everything you know, otherwise you may end up being convicted for something you didn’t do.”

You lower your head and stare at the tabletop. Your fingernails dig deeper into your palm. “I wasn’t responding because he assaulted me.” You were scared to look at the police officers. You were scared to see what their expressions were. “He assaulted me and he was texting me apologies but I was ignoring him because I didn’t want to forgive him.”

It’s silent and you slowly look up. Officer Kim gives you a gentle smile. “Thank you for telling us, Y/N.”

Officer Jeong writes something down and you nod your head. “I have another question for you,” you watch Officer Kim place a sheet of paper on the table. On the paper, is a printed-out screenshot of an Instagram DM.

“Park Sunghoon sent Jaeho a threatening message on Instagram two days before his death. Park Sunghoon mentioned you by name, telling Jaeho to stay away from you or he will do something he won’t regret. Did you know about this?”

You stare at the piece of paper and read Sunghoon’s message to Jaeho. Something swirls around in your stomach and you shift uncomfortably in your chair. “No,” you respond. “I didn’t know about that.”

“Do you have any idea as to why Park Sunghoon would send that message?”

“He found me,” you say, swallowing thickly, “after Jaeho assaulted me. I told him what happened. I didn’t expect him to send Jaeho that message, he’s just a bit….” you think back to the night Jaeho was murdered. Sunghoon didn’t hesitate to pick up your call, he found you in a matter of minutes, and he promised to take care of everything for you. “He’s a bit overprotective.”

“Alright. Thank you.” Officer Kim slides the piece of paper away and clears his throat. “Earlier, we interrogated Park Sunghoon as he is the suspect at the top of our list. We were able to confiscate his phone for a few hours and we found that you had called him on the night of Jaeho’s disappearance at 10:10 for two minutes. Jaeho’s roommates told us Jaeho left the apartment at ten o’clock. Ten minutes before you made the call.”

“I did call him.”

“Why?”

You have two choices -- do you tell the truth, or do you lie? Do you blame Sunghoon for Jaeho’s murder, or do you allow the blame to fall on someone else? Do you throw Sunghoon to the pack of wolves, or do you live in misery and guilt for the rest of your life?

“I called him because he usually walks me home at night,” you tell Officer Kim. “I work at a convenience store and my shift ends at ten. Ever since Jaeho assaulted me I have been scared to walk alone in the dark. Sunghoon offered to walk me home after each of my shifts.”

“Okay,” Officer Kim nods his head. “Your shift ends at ten, but you called him at ten past.”

“I was waiting for him. I can’t walk home alone in the dark anymore, I get scared and sometimes have panic attacks. I don’t care how long I waited for Sunghoon, I was just happy he eventually showed up after I called him.”

“Okay,” Officer Kim smiles once more. “Thank you. One last question. How would you describe your relationship with Park Sunghoon?”

You’re not sure what that has to do with the investigation, but you answer anyway. “It’s…Complicated.”

“Alright. Thank you for your time, Y/N.”

“No problem. Can I go?”

“Yes, you can. We’ll be in touch.” Officer Kim waves you goodbye. You gladly grab your bag and leave the classroom, exhaling in relief as you shut the door behind you.

“They got you too, huh?”

You snap your head to the side. “Sunghoon!”

The silver-haired boy grins and beckons you over to him. “Hello, Y/N, long time no see?”

You scowl. “Fuck you, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon grabs your hand. “Let’s go somewhere private, Y/N. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

“Yeah,” you snort, “especially about how you’re a fucking psychopathic murderer.”

Sunghoon grins at you from over your shoulder. You feel unsettled but you allow Sunghoon to drag you across campus. You thought you would be more angry seeing him, but instead you feel oddly comforted -- and that terrifies you.

—-

Sunghoon takes you to his apartment. It’s flash like you expected, and Jake is lying on the couch in the living room when you enter. The television is blaring loudly as Jake watches some crime documentary on a channel you’ve never heard of.

“Do you want anything to eat? Or drink?” Sunghoon asks.

“No. I want to talk about what happened with Jaeho,” you hiss, glancing at Jake who was fully absorbed in the documentary.

“Don’t worry about Jake,” Sunghoon informs you, pulling out a can of coca cola from the fridge. “He’s also killed some people. He helped me with Jaeho, in fact.”

You stare at Sunghoon, and then at Jake. “What -- what the fuck.”

“I kill people, Jake kills people, Jay kills people -- we all kill people,” Sunghoon says bluntly.

You don’t know what to say. You stare at Sunghoon, your bag dropping to the floor and your heart pounds in your chest. “Why -- why are you telling me this? What if I go to the police?”

Sunghoon laughs, leaning against the kitchen counter. “You won’t tell anyone, Y/N.”

“But what if I do?”

Sunghoon smirks. “Then I’ll have to kill you. And I don’t want to kill you, Y/N, you’re too pretty to be killed.”

“You’re disgusting,” you spit.

“I’m disgusting and yet you’re standing in my apartment.”

You scowl at Sunghoon.

“How did the interrogation go? What did Kim ask you?”

“He asked me about Jaeho,” you reply, “I had to tell him about Jaeho assaulting me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sunghoon says gently.

“No you’re not,” you retort. “You’re a psychopath, you don’t feel things.”

Sunghoon hums. “That’s true, Y/N, but I feel things for you.”

“I also lied,” you tell Sunghoon. “They asked me why I called you and I lied. Happy?”

Sunghoon beams. “Very.” He reaches out to pat your cheek. “You’re a very good girl, Y/N.”

“Whatever,” you mumble, hating the way your heart leaps at Sunghoon’s words.

“So,” Sunghoon gestures for you to take a seat at the dining table. “Do you have any questions?”

“How much time do you have?”

“For you? As much time as you want,” Sunghoon replies.

You scowl. “Shut up.”

Sunghoon laughs and sips his drink. “So?”

“Fine. How did you know where I was?”

“Easy. I’ve been following you home most nights, but I couldn’t that night because I was having a group meeting. Since I knew the path you take home, I was able to find you easily.”

You gape at Sunghoon. “You’ve been stalking me?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Well, when you put it like that it doesn’t sound good.”

“Why have you been stalking me?”

“I was following you because I wanted to make sure you were safe,” Sunghoon replies smoothly.

“Oh. Okay.” You know you should be throwing a fit and telling Sunghoon that stalking you was wrong, but the way Sunghoon smoothly admitted to stalking you, made your chest feel warm. You don’t know how to describe it, but the idea of knowing Sunghoon was keeping you safe did something to you.

Sunghoon raises his eyebrows but he doesn’t say anything.

“Why did you kill Jaeho? Why are you a murderer? What the fuck is happening? Are you the one doing all the killings?”

“I killed Jaeho because he deserved it, Y/N,” Sunghoon says. “He shouldn’t be walking around without consequences for his actions.”

You eye Sunghoon as he talks, and a thrill runs up your spine. You don’t know how to describe your emotions. You don’t know how to describe the fire that’s burning in the pit of your stomach. The way Sunghoon is speaking -- the way his eyes look -- it’s all so thrilling. A pretty face with a twisted mind. Something within you keens to know more. The idea that Sunghoon is willing to kill for you does something.

“Killing Jaehyun was easy,” Sunghoon grins. It’s a maniacal grin. You shift in your seat and edge closer. “He was indebted to Heeseung. Couldn’t repay Heeseung, so we killed him.”

“Just like that?” You ask, your heart thumping wildly.

Sunghoon smiles at you. It’s softer and he tilts his head, “just like that, sweetheart.”

“You killed Taeyong, too?”

Sunghoon’s smile reveals his teeth. His tongue licks his teeth and he calls out to Jake, who pokes his head over the back of the couch, his honey-blonde hair falling over his face. “You killed Taeyong?”

Jake’s grin is ecstatic. His eyes light up and he nods his head like how a dog wags their tail. “Hell yeah, dude! You should’ve been there, it was so fucking satisfying. Seeing him slump to the ground?” Jake presses a hand to his cheek and sighs. “I’d do it all over again.” Jake falls away from the back of the couch, tuning back into the documentary and you turn back to Sunghoon.

“You’re all fucking crazy,” you exclaim, astonished and breathless.

“Fucking crazy and doing what everyone else is afraid to.” Sunghoon reaches out and plays with the strings of your hoodie. You edge closer to Sunghoon and stare at him, all the anger you felt for a few minutes had evaporated. You felt a weird sense of comfort and longing. It made you feel sick, but the longing overpowered it. Sunghoon killed Jaeho for you. He followed you home to keep you safe. No one’s done that before and any sane or rational person would fear for their life and beg the police to keep them safe but you -- you want to know how far Sunghoon will go.

“So. No other reason for killing Jaeho? And for stalking me? And giving me your number?”

Sunghoon hums, his index finger brushing your chin as he wraps the string around his finger. “Well, I guess there is another reason.”

“Which is?”

Sunghoon looks at you, his eyes dark and your gut drops to your feet. “I love you, Y/N,” his voice was deep and you feel goosebumps rise across your skin.

“You don’t know me, Sunghoon.”

“Do I have to know you to love you?”

You draw away from Sunghoon, the string unraveling from around his finger. “You’re crazy.”

Sunghoon chuckles and leans back in his chair, pushing a hand through his hair. “I know. That’s all you’ve said in the past five minutes. Do you have anything other than you’re crazy, to say?”

You stare at Sunghoon. You have many things to say, many sentences running through your mind. Where to begin? How do you say what you’re feeling? How do you admit to Sunghoon that you don’t mind him doing all this for you?

You grab Sunghoon by the collar of his shirt and kiss him. It doesn’t take long for Sunghoon to respond. His hands cup your face and he pulls you close, leaving you on the edge of your seat. You kiss him with everything in you. You give and Sunghoon takes. He stokes the fire burning within your stomach and you just want him to devour you. Sunghoon bites down on your bottom lip, his tongue slipping past your lips, and pleasure rushes through your bloodstream. You want more of Sunghoon. More more more more more --

Your phone vibrates against the table. You leave it, but it keeps on vibrating and Sunghoon is the one to part. You chase Sunghoon’s lips, but he keeps you away, his thumb resting against your bottom lip. “You should answer that, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you say breathlessly. You reach for your phone, not taking your eyes off Sunghoon. “Hello?”

“Y/N,” Yunjin cries, jolting you. Her sob rips loudly through the phone and Sunghoon gives you a questioning look. Behind you, Jake’s phone rings out and he groans, pausing the documentary to answer the phone. “Haechan’s dead, Y/N.”

—-

It’s been two long days since the death of Haechan. Yunjin was in the library when it happened, that’s why she called you sobbing. Haechan was only a couple of bookcases behind her when the murder occurred, and it really shook her up.

You had raced down to the campus library hot on Sunghoon and Jake’s heels. The phone call Jake had got at the same time as you was from Heeseung, who was, in fact, the one who killed Haechan. When you arrived at the crime scene, Heeseung was talking with Beomgyu and Jeongin, tightly huddled next to each other.

Yunjin threw herself into your arms and sobbed against your shoulder as you watched Sunghoon and Jake usher Heeseung, Beomgyu, and Jeonging away from the library.

You haven’t heard from Sunghoon since then and you feel like you’re going insane. Maybe kissing Sunghoon was the wrong idea, maybe you shouldn’t have kissed him, maybe if you told him how you were feeling, he wouldn’t be leaving you on delivered and never coming to class.

You stand in front of the full-length mirror in your dorm, brushing your hands against the black dress tightly hugging your features. You’re going out tonight with a goal in mind; Sunghoon. You need to see Sunghoon, you need to pick up where you left off two days ago.

“Yunjin,” you shake the girl lying in her bed asleep.

She groans and rolls over, rubbing her eyes. “Y/N?���

“Do you want to come to the party Minho’s throwing tonight? It’s some birthday bash for Changbin at some club. I’m hoping to see Sunghoon tonight, but I’m sure Sakura will be there, she’s friends with Minho, right?”

Yunjin stares at you for a very long time. “Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?”

You stare at Yunjin, taken aback. “What?”

Yunjin scoffs and shakes her head. “I was literally almost murdered and all you care about is Sunghoon? You know, not once during the past two days did you check up on me, or offer a helping hand -- all you talked to me about was fucking Sunghoon. Some friend you are.” Yunjin rolls back over, her back facing you.

The silence in the room is loud. “I’ll bring you back some ice cream, Yunjin,” you say in a meek tone. She doesn’t respond, so you gently pad out of the dorm, shutting the door quietly behind you.

Walking out into the cool air, Yunjin’s words echo through your head. Had you really been that awful to her? When you think back to the past few days, all you can think about is Sunghoon, so maybe there was some truth to Yunjin’s words, maybe you were obsessed with Sunghoon at the moment, but surely you had offered comfort to Yunjin? She was your only friend, after all.

But, it’s whatever. If you somehow earn Sunghoon’s attention and buy ice cream tonight, then all the problems in your life will be solved.

The line in front of the club was already long. You didn’t mind the long wait because you kept yourself occupied with thoughts of Sunghoon. Sunghoon, Sunghoon, Sunghoon. He was all you could think about. Flashes of deep brown eyes, flashes of silver (almost white) hair, and a pink mouth curved into a kissable smile. He was addictive.

Entering the club, you scan the crowd. It was dark so it was hard to make out faces, but you catch sight of familiar faces -- Soobin, Yeonjun, Yena, Yuri, Chaewon, Seungmin. But no Sunghoon. Cursing, you approach the bar and order a drink, your fingertips hitting the bartop in a rhythmic manner as you continue searching the club over and over.

Minutes pass by and still no sight of Sunghoon. You knock back your third drink of the night, your tongue licking up the last remnants of your drink when the crowd parts and Yeonjun approaches you, his hair now a deep blue.

“Y/N,” Yeonjun smiles. “Nice seeing you here.”

“Yeonjun,” you smile back. “You too.”

“You look good tonight.”

“Really?” Looking over his shoulder, you finally see Sunghoon. He’s talking to Minjeong. Bitch.

“Really,” Yeonjun agrees. “Care for a dance? With me?”

You take Yeonjun’s waiting hand and he leads you to the dance floor, pushing his way into the middle where the music is the loudest. The loud club music mixes with the alcohol consuming your bloodstream and you lose all inhibitions. Yeonjun easily guides you through the rhythm of the music and his hands carefully wander across your body.

Yeonjun’s lips carefully ghost over the back of your neck. You melt into his arms and tilt your head to the side, his lips falling onto the side of your neck, artfully decorating them in little kisses and bites, his hands gripping your waist tighter as your dancing begins to turn sensual.

Your hand cups the back of Yeonjun’s neck and you turn your head, your heart in your throat. Yeonjun pulls you closer -- if that was even possible -- and his breath is hot on your lips and then you’re being pulled apart. You stumble into the dancers in front of you, who grumble in annoyance but you shrug them off and glance to see who pulled you and Yeonjun apart.

Sunghoon is towering over Yeonjun, his eyes dark and aura brooding. You notice his hands are curled into fists and before Yeonjun could say anything, Sunghoon is punching him. You watch Sunghoon punch Yeonjun a few times before you sink into the crowd surrounding the one-sided fight that was occurring -- you couldn’t bear to watch Sunghoon beat up Yeonjun, but you also know that Sunghoon will realize you’ve left and he’ll come for you.

You inhale deeply as you step out of the club. It’s 12 AM and the streets of Seoul are still alive. You walk aimlessly through the streets to get your thoughts and feelings under control. When you eventually confront Sunghoon, you want to be able to say what you want to say without stumbling over your words.

Sharply, you turn down an alleyway and walk until you reach the dead end, turning around, you place your hands on your hips and glare into the dark night. “Sunghoon, I know you’re there,” it’s silent for a few beats. “You fucking piece of shit,” you tag on belatedly.

Still nothing.

“What gives you the right to punch Yeonjun after ignoring me for two days? You don’t own me, Sunghoon. I can dance with whoever I want, and kiss whoever I want.”

Finally, you see Sunghoon’s figure appear at the end of the alley. He approaches you like how a lion stalks their prey, except you don't cower away. Sunghoon’s face is stoic, and his eyes are dark. His right hand is bloody but you don’t care, you only care about what Sunghoon will say to you.

“You can’t kiss Yeonjun,” Sunghoon answers gruffly.

“Why not?” You challenge.

Sunghoon grabs your face and kisses you in response. It’s a rough kiss, one which surprises you. You stumble into the cool brick wall behind you as Sunghoon cages you. Sunghoon’s kiss is demanding and it’s leaving you breathless as you attempt to keep up with his passion. His hands wander across your body -- over your butt and your breasts, his hands going where you want them to go. You whimper as Sunghoon bites harshly on your bottom lip, drawing blood that tastes metallic but you don’t care. You hook one leg around Sunghoon’s waist and push him closer to your body. You crave Sunghoon’s warmth.

Sunghoon draws away, and once again you’re left chasing his lips. “When you come to a club dressed like a slut, Y/N,” Sunghoon says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest, “guys will think they’re able to kiss what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours Sunghoon,” you whisper, letting Sunghoon’s thumb brush over your lip to wipe away the blood dripping down your chin. “We kissed once.”

“I also stalked you. And Killed Jaeho for you,” Sunghoon reminds, his tone firm.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” you retort, “you just did it.”

Sunghoon laughs and it chills you to the bone. “But you liked me doing that. You liked the idea of me stalking you, and you liked watching me kill Jaeho.”

You can’t deny it. Sunghoon kisses you again, but it’s gentle. His thumbs brush your cheeks in a soothing rhythm. Sunghoon moves his lips across your face -- he kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, and then he dips down to kiss your throat. Raising his face to look at you, his eyes are soft. “You’re mine, Y/N,” his voice is also softer like he’s trying to lull you into his warm embrace but he doesn’t need to try. You’re already aching for his warm embrace.

“Ask me,” you whisper, your voice trembling, “ask me to be yours. Ask me to be your girlfriend. Ask me to love you.”

Sunghoon kisses you again. He’s addicting.

“Be mine. Be my girlfriend, Y/N.”

You hum, smiling softly. “Will you take me out on dates?”

“If you want to, then I will.”

You pull Sunghoon in for a kiss. “Take me on dates and I’ll love you. It’s simple, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon traces your lips with a gentle finger. “Being mine has rules, Y/N,” he says in a low voice. “And if you break them, I’ll have to break you.”

Your pulse is loud in your ears. Anticipation hangs in the air. You want Sunghoon -- all of him. “I’ll follow them,” you promise Sunghoon.

“You don’t even know what they are, Y/N,” Sunghoon chuckles.

“I don’t have to know the rules to know I love you.”

Sunghoon kisses you desperately, your back digging painfully into the wall behind you, but you ignore the pain because Sunghoon’s warmth is overwhelming. “Rule number one,” Sunghoon pants out, his lips moving against yours. “You’re mine. Y/N.”

—-

Sunghoon’s presence has been overwhelming but it’s the good kind. All week you were around Sunghoon. Everywhere you went, Sunghoon was there. His rules were easy to follow -- when you see Sunghoon, you go to him, no matter if you’re with your friends. You can’t talk to any other men aside from Sunghoon and his friends. If you want to go out, you have to ask Sunghoon for permission, because Sunghoon has to know where you are, and when you’re dressing up to go out to a club, Sunghoon has to approve your outfit, and above all, you listen to Sunghoon. You listen to what he says and do what he asks, no questions asked.

If you were the sane, logical girl from last year, you would be searching for a way out of Sunghoon’s obsessive grip but now -- now you’re a girl who craves this kind of attention, who finds a thrill in knowing that you have all of Sunghoon’s attention for yourself. You find a thrill in knowing Sunghoon would do anything for you, and it should disgust you, but it doesn’t.

Sunghoon’s car rumbles gently beneath you. His hand grips your thigh possessively, the other lazily holding onto the steering wheel as he drives through Seoul. He was taking you on a date today, to a park to have a picnic.

“I like your skirt,” Sunghoon says, grinning as he pinches the hem of it.

You lay your hand over Sunghoon’s. “I wonder who picked it out.”

Sunghoon sneaks a look at you, his eyes dancing in amusement. “Perhaps you should give the person who picked it out a kiss.”

Giggling, you reach across the gap between you and Sunghoon and peck his cheek. “Thank you,” you say gently against his ear. Sunghoon’s hand squeezes your thigh tightly. You giggle again and slump against the seat, staring out the window again.

It’s a nice day. The sun is shining and there’s a gentle breeze in the air that keeps you feeling comfortable. Sunghoon takes your hand and leads you through the park to a secluded area. He tells you to stand there and look pretty as he lays out the picnic blanket and the basket full of food he had picked out for the both of you.

Sunghoon helps you out of your shoes, and then he helps you get comfortable on the blanket. He keeps you tucked between his legs and you relax against his chest, his arms circling your waist and keeping you warm. The breeze tickles your shoulder and you giggle softly, and then you feel Sunghoon drop a kiss on that same shoulder.

“Are you feeling hungry, Y/N?”

“A bit. What did you pack?”

Sunghoon shifts, keeping one arm circled around your waist while he reaches to pull the basket closer to him. “I brought some fruit,” Sunghoon pulls out a mandarin. “I’ll peel it for you,” Sunghoon’s mouth brushes your ear and you shiver.

You watch as Sunghoon’s hands deftly peel the mandarin for you. “Open your mouth,” Sunghoon says. He feeds you each mandarin piece and your heart swells. Sunghoon was a dream. He was your dream. He was your ideal man -- Sunghoon would kill for you, maybe even die for you. But he was also sweet, and loving, and caring.

“Tell me more about you,” Sunghoon says, his chin resting on your shoulder as you relax further into his embrace. “What’s your favorite color?” His fingers trace over your bare thigh. You ignore how it tickles.

“Pink. I like soft pink. Not bright pink, but a mellow, warm pink.”

“I hate pink,” Sunghoon says, sounding amused.

“I’ll make you love it.”

Sunghoon hums and kisses your shoulder. “I bet you will.”

“What about you?” You turn your head slightly to catch the side of Sunghoon’s face. “What’s your color?”

Sunghoon pulls away from your shoulder to look at you. He smiles. “I liked green, but these days I think I like the color of your eyes more.”

You blush and duck your head, covering your face with your hands. “Shut up, Sunghoon.”

He laughs heartily, his chest moving against your back. He kisses the top of your head. “Any siblings?”

You shake your head. “I’m an only child. What about you?”

“I have a younger sister,” Sunghoons says, though the tone of his voice wishes he didn’t.

Chaewon’s words from the party echo through your head. “Is it true you made your sister walk home with a broken ankle?”

Sunghoon scoffs. “She deserved it.” He doesn’t elaborate and you sit there in silence, letting his words simmer in the air. That should’ve been a sign for you to leave Sunghoon behind, go to the police and beg for a restraining order, or attempt to flee the country. But, you choose to sit between Sunghoon’s legs and intertwine your fingers with Sunghoon’s.

“And your parents? Are you close with them?” You ask Sunghoon.

“I cut them off as soon as I got to college,” Sunghoon admits bluntly. “What about you?” He brushes some stray strands of hair behind your ear.

“I’m close with them,” you murmur, playing with Sunghoon’s fingers. “They will probably want to meet you.”

“I’d love to meet them, then,” Sunghoon says, “after all, they created you.”

Your giggle floats through the air and Sunghoon manhandles you around to face him so he can kiss you intensely. You’re reeling from the sudden kiss, but soon you melt into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of Sunghoon warmly pressed against you.

Pulling away, you push your cheek against Sunghoon’s chest to listen to his heartbeat. Your legs are curled up as Sunghoon holds you close, playing with the ends of your hair. “Sunghoon?” You ask gently and he hums in response. “How did you -- why did you --” Sunghoon cuts you off to kiss you again. You let him kiss you for a while.

“That’s a story for another day, Y/N,” Sunghoon murmurs, his forehead resting against yours. “Let’s not ruin the mood of our date, yeah?”

You can only agree.

—-

You’re walking into a familiar club a couple of days later with Yunjin. Your eyes glance down at your phone once again, rereading Sunghoon’s texts. First, he approved of your outfit and complimented you so passionately you still blush as you read his message, and second, Sunghoon had told you he’d be arriving soon. Your stomach was on fire at just the thought of seeing Sunghoon again tonight, at a party.

Beside you, Yunjin looks at you before abandoning you in favor to seek out her friends. You let Yunjin go. She’s been giving you the cold shoulder ever since you never returned back to the dorm without the ice cream you promised her. You’ve also been blowing her off lately in favor to hang out with Sunghoon, but you could care less about Yunjin’s cold shoulder. You have Sunghoon to crawl back to at the end of the day, anyway.

You head for the bar and order a drink. You look out at the club, eyes trained on the entrance as you wait for Sunghoon. Minutes pass and the club continues to fill up. You keep checking your phone for a message from Sunghoon, but you still receive no text from him.

People pile up at the bar around you, and behind you, you hear a familiar, grating feminine voice. Shooting a side glance over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of curly black hair and smoky eyeshadow. Minjeong sat behind you with her posse, and her voice was loud enough for you to hear.

“Did you hear the rumor about Sunghoon?” One of Minjeong’s friends asks her.

“Which one? The one about him murdering Jaehyun, or the one about him being a freak?” Minjeong asks in her annoying snarky tone. You’ve never liked Minjeong, in fact, you’ve always had a rivalry with her ever since high school. You two were the top students in your high school and when Senior year came around, both of you were vying for valedictorian. In the end, you snatched the spot from her, and from then, Minjeong’s been obsessed with stealing everything from you -- even your ex-boyfriend.

“No, the one about his relationship with Y/N,” her friend clarifies. “People are saying he’s blackmailing her into being his girlfriend.”

Minjeong laughs loudly at that. “If anything, Y/N’s the one doing the blackmailing. She’s a pathetic freak. Though, Sunghoon’s more of a freak than her so it’s a perfect match!”

Her friends titter obnoxiously and you order another drink from the bar. Minjeong was beginning to get on your nerves for the thousandth time, except this time, you might end up doing something about it rather than being the one to take the high road.

“What did you mean when you called Sunghoon a freak?” Another one of Minjeong’s friends asks, her tone curious and it makes your blood boil. What right do Minjeong and her friends have talking about Sunghoon like that?

Minjeong snickers. “Didn’t you hear? Apparently, in Freshmen year, he was caught entering a girl’s dorm and stealing all her underwear. When the campus security went through his room, they found all sorts of panties and porn magazines. He’s a peeping tom, Jimin, a freak. I guess he and Y/N deserve each other.”

Slamming the glass holding your drink onto the bar, you turn in your chair and glare at Minjeong. All her friends freeze up at the sight of you, but Minjeong only smiles slyly. “If I were you, I would watch your fucking mouth, Minjeong,” you warn.

“All bark no bite,” Minjeong taunts.

All bark no bite. Jaeho said that before Sunghoon murdered him. Your blood boils. You hate that saying.

“Sunghoon’s a fucking freak and you know it, Y/N.”

Grabbing your drink, you pour the remainder of the alcohol over Minjeong’s head. She shrieks and her friends flinch away. “Say that again.” You grab Minjeong by the shirt. “Say it, Minjeong.”

Minjeong opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Rolling your eyes, you shove Minjeong off the barstool and she goes crashing to the ground. All her friends crowd around her, some shoot you dirty looks but you ignore them. Minjeong had it coming.

“Y/N.”

Turning around, you see Yeonjun standing there with a swollen nose and a black eye. Your eyes widen and you glance around the room searching for Sunghoon. Where was Sunghoon?

“Yeonjun, hi.”

“Y/N, listen to me,” Yeonjun grabs your hand. You flinch and try to pull away, but Yeonjun’s grip only tightens. “You need to get away from Sunghoon.”

“Yeonjun, what the fuck --”

“Y/N,” Yeonjun’s begging at this point. “You don’t deserve someone like him. He’s a psychopath, Y/N, you’re not safe with him.”

You scoff and finally tug your hand out of Yeonjun’s. “Thank you for the warning, Yeonjun, but I think I can make those kinds of decisions on my own.”

“Y/N, you aren’t listening. Sunghoon’s a fucking murderer--”

“Sunghoon!” You beam as you see the silver-haired male appear behind Yeonjun.

Yeonjun tenses up and turns slightly to see Sunghoon towering over him. Sunghoon doesn’t say anything as he brushes past Yeonjun and grips your wrist tightly, pulling you through the crowd and out of the club. You stumble over your feet in an attempt to catch up with Sunghoon’s fast pace and long legs.

“Sunghoon!” You call but he ignores you. Once he’s free from the club, he veers to the right sharply and shoves you up against the side of the club. You’re hidden away from the long line of people waiting to enter the club, the shadows protecting you from anyone who peers down this small alley in between two clubs.

“Why the fuck were you talking to Yeonjun, Y/N?” Sunghoon glares at you, his eyes fiery.

Your heart skips a beat and you reach for Sunghoon’s hand. “Sunghoon, I didn’t want to talk to him.”

“Don’t fucking lie, Y/N. I thought you understood my rules clearly. I specifically told you to not talk to Yeonjun.” Sunghoon was seething. You’ve never seen him this angry.

“Sunghoon,” you try to placate him. “He talked to me. I never want to disobey you, Sunghoon, you have to believe me. I don’t want to talk to Yeonjun but he came up to me and started a conversation with me.”

“Are you telling the truth, Y/N?”

You nod your head. “Of course, Sunghoon. You’re the only one I want.”

“Good girl,” Sunghoon breaks into a smile and cups your face with his hand, planting a kiss on your lips. “Head back into the club, I have something to take care of.”

“Okay,” you murmur, “be safe?”

“I always am,” Sunghoon kisses you again. “You look good tonight. It’s a shame I can’t be with you longer.”

“I’ll wear this dress for you another night, I promise,” you smile at Sunghoon, squeezing his hand.

“Alright. Text me when you’re leaving the club. And text me when you get home.”

“Of course.”

—-

Walking through campus, something rustles underfoot. Glancing down, you see Yeonjun’s missing poster beneath your foot. Choi Yeonjun has been missing for the past three days. You screw up the missing poster and dump it in the nearest trash can. They won’t ever find Yeonjun’s body, Jay made sure to dispose of it carefully.

Sunghoon had called you the next morning after Yeonjun attempted to ward you away from Sunghoon. It didn’t work, of course, because you loved Sunghoon and you wanted to be with him, psychopath or not. You and Sunghoon met up at a cafe on campus, he bought your breakfast for you and he explained why he had to leave you alone in the club.

Yeonjun’s death was all his fault. He had it coming.

After Sunghoon explained Yeonjun’s murder to you, you kissed him and said thank you. You knew you could always count on Sunghoon to protect you and keep you save from the people trying to interfere with your relationship.

Days passed after Sunghoon admitted to being the cause of Yeonjun’s disappearance. The hunt for Yeonjun is growing hopeless as each day passes and no one steps forward with any information regarding Yeonjun’s disappearance.

You’re working at the convenience store again. It’s a boring night but thankfully you only have an hour left. You flick through a magazine that was supposed to be on display in front of the counter but since there were no customers, you were passing time by snickering at the tabloid.

The door opens and the bell above it rings. Glancing up, you see Minjeong approaching you. You push the magazine to the side and wait for Minjeong to speak as she stands at the counter. Her eyes survey the gum sitting nearby, and she grabs a strawberry flavored packet.

“You should keep a leash on your boytoy, Y/N,” Minjeon says nonchalantly, flicking through the same magazine you were previously reading.

“I don’t need to listen to this shit from you.”

Minjeong hums. “I think you do. I saw him, a couple of nights back. The night you ruined my green dress at the club, remember?”

You smile. “I remember it fondly, Minjeong.”

“I think it was around three am? I saw your boyfriend fighting with Yeonjun. It didn’t look like a friendly fight, Sunghoon was kind of…scary,” Minjeong shrugs and your heart begins to slow down. “Eventually, Yeonjun got into Sunghoon’s car.” Minjeong places the magazine back on the rack and looks at you. “Kinda crazy, huh? That I saw Yeonjun hours before he was reported missing, and he was with your boyfriend.”

“Your total is three dollars.”

“Three dollars for a packet of gum?” Minjeong frowns.

You smile but it’s tight, unfriendly. “Capitalism, Minjeong.”

Minjeong hands you a five dollar note. “You know what’s even funnier?”

“What?”

“I saw Sunghoon later. I think it was 5 AM? I am a party girl, after all, and he was climbing out of his car alone.”

You give Minjeong back her change. “Have a good night, Minjeong.”

Minjeong tuts. “I’m not finished, Y/N. He was climbing out of the car covered in blood, Y/N. You know what that means, right? Your psychotic boyfriend murdered Yeonjun.”

You can hear the clock in the staff room ticking as you and Minjeong stand in silence. You don’t know what to do. You’re in shock. You can’t believe Sunghoon had been so irresponsible. You can’t let Sunghoon go to prison.

“Why haven’t you told the police yet?” You ask Minjeong.

Minjeong shrugs, tearing the plastic wrapping off the gum packeting. “I didn’t believe what I saw at first. And then when I did, I wanted to talk to you before I went to the police.”

“Why would you want to talk to me?”

“Because the police might question you, Y/N,” Minjeong pulls out some gum and offers the packet to you. You shake your head. “And I don’t know what your relationship with Sunghoon is like, but I know how hard it is to be in an abusive relationship and get questioned by the police. They’re ruthless.”

Finally, an out to this situation appears. You soften your eyes and fidget with your fingers, glancing away from Minjeong. “Oh.” You stare really hard at a packet of chips, not bothering to blink as your eyes begin to water.

“Y/N?” Minjeong asks softly.

“Minjeong. Can we -- can we not talk about this here? Can we meet somewhere privately?”

Minjeong nods her head. “Of course, Y/N.”

“And can you not tell anyone about us meeting up? I -- I don’t want Sunghoon to know and I don’t want you getting in trouble in case he finds out you know. .”

Minjeong nods eagerly. “Of course, Y/N. Where do you want to meet?”

“There’s an alleyway not far down. It’s across from the Chinese takeaway place. My shift ends at ten, so it’ll take me a few minutes to get there.”

Minjeong smiles gently. “I’ll wait for you, Y/N. Thank you for trusting me with whatever you’re about to tell me.”

You smile at Minjeong. “Of course.”

Minjeong bids you goodbye and when she’s out of sight, you dry your eyes and reach for your phone, firing a quick text to Sunghoon. He answers back immediately and you grin, placing your phone down and reaching for the magazine you shoved aside.

The remainder of your shift passes by slowly. Your nerves get the better of you and by the time Seungmin arrives to take over, you’re racing out of the store. Your pulse is loud in your ears as you approach the alleyway where you told Minjeong to meet you.

You see her standing down the alleyway, a little way from the enterance. The glare of her phone lights up her face. Clearly distracted, you duck down and pick a broken brick up from the ground, hiding it behind your back as you walk over to Minjeong.

“Y/N,” Minjeong smiles and turns off her phone, pocketing it. “How are you?”

“I could be better,” you respond, keeping up your innocent, scared appearance. “I just didn’t know what to do or who to tell,” you start, biting your lower lip nervously.

“It’s okay,” Minjeong reaches out to rub your arm. “You can tell me.”

“Sunghoon he…he told me he murdered Yeonjun,” you confess to Minjeong.

Her eyes widen. “Oh, Y/N.”

“I was terrified at first,” you continue, “but then after a while, I thanked Sunghoon for doing that.”

“What?” Minjeong frowns, confused. “You thanked Sunghoon for…murdering Yeonjun?”

You shrug. “Yeonjun had it coming.”

“Y/N, what the fuck --”

“Sorry, Minjeong, but you weren’t supposed to see Sunghoon with Yeonjun,” you give her a smile before you swing your hand holding the brick through the air and smack Minjeong on the side of her head with it. Minjeong sprawls to the ground, her temple bleeding.

You drop the brick and pull out your phone, calmly dialing Sunghoon’s number as you stare at Minjeong’s unconscious body. “I knocked out Minjeong,” you tell Sunghoon, “she saw you with Yeonjun the night you killed him.”

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything. He hangs up and in seconds he’s by your side, staring down at Minjeong’s body. “Do you want to finish what you started, Y/N?” Sunghoon asks, picking up the brick, “or would you like me to finish?”

“You can finish. Do you want me to call Jake?”

“Yeah, tell him to get his ass down here with Jay and Heeseung and bring my car. He’ll know what to do.” Sunghoon hands you his phone and you turn away, not wanting to see Sunghoon bash Minjeong’s head with the brick.

Jake sounded eager as you talked to him on the phone. Fifteen minutes later, Jake appears with Jay and they jog down the alley. Sunghoon’s car is parked in front of the alley, blocking anyone from looking down the alley.

“Where’s the body?” Jay asks.

“Heeseung couldn’t make it,” Jake says as he, Sunghoon, and Jay crowd around Minjeong’s dead body. “He had to handle something with Beomgyu and Jeongin. Probably a drug deal gone wrong.”

“Of-fucking-course,” mutters Sunghoon. “Fucking stoners.” He glances over his shoulder. “Go wait in the car, Y/N. Jungwon will keep you company, and we’ll talk about this later, okay?”

You nod your head and walk down the alley, opening the car door and sliding into the backseat. Jungwon sits in the driver’s seat, his fingers tapping the steering wheel as he glances out the tinted windows. “Hey, Jungwon,” you place your bag on the car floor and pull out your phone to play Candy Crush to pass the time.

“Hey. Killed Minjeong, huh?”

“Knocked her unconcious. Sunghoon killed her for me. She knew too much about Yeonjun’s disappearance. Came to me while I was working and confessed everything to me.”

Jungwon snorts. “Her first mistake. Why didn’t she go to the police first?”

“I think she was concerned for me,” you respond absentmindedly. “Thought I was in an abusive relationship with Sunghoon.” That gets a kick out of Jungwon and he laughs heartily.

“Little does she know,” Jungwon sighs after getting his laughter under control, “you and Sunghoon are a perfect match for each other.”

—-

Sliding into the passenger seat beside Sunghoon, he greets you with a kiss. It was the first day of spring break and Sunghoon was driving the both of you down to visit your parents. They were over the moon when you told them you had a boyfriend and told you they wanted to meet him over the break.

“They’ll love you,” you reassure Sunghoon as he pulls away from the curb.”You’ll definitely win them over.”

Sunghoon grins, his dimple peeking. “Everyone loves me, Y/N.”

“I love you more though,” you respond, sulking.

Sunghoon takes your hand and kisses the top of it. “I know you do, Y/N.”

“Oh!” You perk up, “Yunjin wont be rooming with me after the break. I’ll have the dorm to myself for the rest of the semester and then I’ll have to move out. Should we move in together during the summer break, Sunghoon?”

Earlier, before Sunghoon came to pick you up, Yunjin broke the news to you. You were expecting this, now that you think about it. Ever since you began dating Sunghoon, you and Yunjin grew apart. She didn’t approve of you dating Sunghoon, and you didn’t like her disapproval. What was so wrong about you dating Sunghoon? Yunjin often complained whenever you blew her off, but as it became more frequent she began to leave you alone in the dorm like at the beginning of the year when the both of you weren’t as close.

You didn’t care than Yunjin held a grudge against you for blowing her off and dating Sunghoon because, at the end of the day, you always had Sunghoon and you would chose Sunghoon over any of your friends any day.

“I like that idea. Should we move in together?”

You nod your head. “It would be so much fun living together, Sunghoon. Late nights, I can cook you dinner, and we can watch as many movies as we want! Maybe we could get a pet too!”

“A cat?” Sunghoon asks.

“Anything you want, Sunghoon,” you respond warmly. Sunghoon steals a kiss from you at the red light and you giggle, smiling bashfully and leaning forward to turn up the radio, the playlist Sunghoon made for the two of you playing.

The drive to your childhood home was only a couple of hours. Usually, the drive was boring since you had no one else to join you, but now that you had Sunghoon with you on the drive, he made it more fun. Cracking jokes and playing silly games with you, he left you breathless.

“Home sweet home,” you murmur as Sunghoon pulls up the driveway.

Sunghoon parks the car and pulls the keys out of the ignition. His hand cups your chin and guides your lips to his. He kisses you in his car, outside your house. “Cute house,” Sunghoon says after leaving you breathless. “I can imagine you growing up here.”

You blush. The front door of your house opens and your mother and father step onto the porch, waving happily when they see you. “Come on,” you reach out to pinch Sunghoon’s cheek, “let’s meet the parents!”

Climbing out of the car, you rush up the porch to hug your parents. “I missed you so much, darling,” you mother says, petting your hair.

“I missed you more, mom,” you respond, pulling her in for another hug.

“My baby girl,” your father says fondly, rubbing your cheek with the back of his hand. “How have you been?”

You beam and hug your father tightly. “I’ve been well. University has been so much fun. I miss your homecooked food, though.”

Your mother and father chuckle. “We’re glad you’re back home, darling. This break will be so much fun.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you watch Sunghoon approach you and your parents. Your smile broadens and you tuck yourself into Sunghoon’s side, “this is my boyfriend, Park Sunghoon.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sunghoon says, shaking your father’s hand.

“You too, son,” your father says, “anyone who can make my daughter this happy is okay in my book.”

Sunghoon smiles, peeking down at you. “Seeing her happy makes me happy.”

Your father sends you a wink and you blush. Sunghoon takes your mother’s hand and kisses the back of her hand. “It’s a delight to meet you, Mrs. L/N, you created a wonderful daughter.”

Your mother’s laughter is light as it floats through the air. “Come on in, I’ll show you to your room and then you can unpack the car.”

Reaching for Sunghoon’s hand, you squeeze it gently as you step into your childhood home. Sunghoon squeeze your hand back, and when your parents weren’t looking, he sneaks a kiss on your temple. The love in your heart for Sunghoon swells tenfold.

After moving everything from Sunghoon’s car and into the house, your father takes Sunghoon away to tinker in the garage while you sit in the kitchen, watching your mother prepare dinner. “Remind me long you’ve been dating Sunghoon, sweetheart?” Your mother asks.

“Three weeks,” you respond.

“Oh. I didn’t know this was a new relationship. The way you spoke on the phone made it sound like you’ve been with him for a while.”

You shrug, peeling the shell of a pistachio. “We’ve known each other for a long time. Three weeks feels like three months with Sunghoon. I love him. And didn’t you tell me if you love someone, that’s more than enough?”

Your mother sighs, kneading out the dough. “I guess so. Just, be careful, Y/N, okay? I don’t want you to rush into a relationship and make a mistake that could cost your life.”

You giggle. “You don’t need to worry about me, mom, Sunghoon is the one for me.”

Your mother smiles at you from over her shoulder. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Your father enters the kitchen and kisses your mother’s cheek as he reaches for the fridge. “Sunghoon’s up in your room, Y/N, if you want to see him. We’ll call you down when dinner’s ready,” you father says. “I need some alone time with your mother.”

You dash out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your childhood room. You burst into the room and leap onto your bed, crushing Sunghoon. He groans and pushes you off him as you giggle, flopping back on the bed beside him. “How are you, Sunghoon?”

“I’m having fun. Your father is nice to talk to,” Sunghoon responds. “It’s making me miss my parents.”

You coo reach out to caress Sunghoon’s cheek. You throw your leg over Sunghoon’s waist and cuddle up to him, your hand falling down to rest on his chest. You close your eyes and begin to doze off, feeling relaxed and comfortable in Sunghoon’s embrace, but your boyfriend shakes you awake.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “I have something for you.” He gently pulls you upright and turns to shift through his overnight bag. It doesn’t take long for him to procure a small jewelry box and you gasp softly as Sunghoon turns to you with a big grin on his face.

“I saw this at the jewelry store yesterday. Jake was shopping for his mom since her birthday is coming up. I saw this and thought of you.” He opens the box and you gasp, staring at the thin gold ring sitting between the cushions.

Sunghoon takes it out and you hold out your hand. “It’s a promise ring,” Sunghoon tells you softly. “You’re my forever, Y/N.”

“Oh, Sunghoon,” you admire the ring. It’s a small gold ring with a flower sitting in the middle. You don’t recognize the flower so you look at Sunghoon in question.

“It’s your birth flower, Y/N,” Sunghoon explains, pinching your chin playfully.

“Oh. I didn’t even know such a thing as birth flowers existed.”

Sunghoon laughs loudly and leans forward to kiss you. “Don’t worry, baby, I know everything about you.”

You laugh against his lips and draw him back in for a kiss. You spend the rest of your time with Sunghoon kissing him and admiring the ring in the golden sunlight until your father calls you both downstairs.

Dinner was enjoyable, though you could tell your parents felt a bit unsettled as you show them the promise ring Sunghoon got you, and how you both explained your plans to move in with each other next year. The unsettling feelings carries into the night when Sunghoon was up taking a shower and you were helping your parents clean up dinner.

“Y/N, honey,” your father starts softly. “Don’t you think you’re rushing this relationship?”

You glance up from where you were washing the dishes. “What? No? I love Sunghoon, and I want to be with him forever.”

Your parents share a look. “Y/N,” your mother says, “are you sure?”

“Why are you being like this?” You ask your parents, placing down the brush you were using to wash the dishes. “Shouldn’t you be excited for me? I finally have a boyfriend who loves me and cares for me.”

Your father nods. “We are, but it just feels like you’re going too fast. You’ve only been dating for three weeks, Y/N.”

“But I love him,” you insist. “I love Sunghoon. And you’ve always told me that when I love someone, I shouldn’t let them go.”

Your mother sighs heavily. “Alright. If you believe that you and Sunghoon will last, then we’ll back off.”

“But don’t say that we didn’t warn you,” your father adds.

You finish washing the dishes in silence. You don’t bid your parents goodnight as you walk up to your room, your mood sour. Sunghoon was already in bed, tucked beneath the covers as he scrolled through his phone, probably replying to the group chat he has with his friends.

“Hey,” you mutter, pulling out your pajamas.

“Hey,” Sunghoon responds, placing down his phone. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

“No,” you respond tersely, changing out of your clothes and into your pajamas in front of Sunghoon. “My parents were being annoying.”

“Oh?”

“I’ll tell you about it after I finish washing up.” You grab your toothbrush and face wash and dash over to the bathroom next to your room, not wanting to bump into your parents. After finishing washing up, you crawl into bed with Sungoon and curl up next to him.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?” Sunghoon brushes a hand through your hair.

“My parents think we’re moving too fast,” you grumble. “They’re trying to tell me what to do in our relationship. It’s annoying.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sunghoon says gently. “Would you like me to talk to them?”

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay, Sunghoon. Let’s just sleep. We’ll have them convinced that we aren’t rushing this relationship by the end of the week.”

Sunghoon kisses your forehead and helps you lie down before pulling you close against his chest. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Sunghoon.”

You didn’t get much sleep. You were standing in front of the milk at the nearby supermarket zoning out. After your mother asked you to get some milk, you began your slow, sleepy walk down to the nearest supermarket.

Sunghoon has been silent all morning and you hope what you told him last night didn’t ruin his mood for the rest of the trip. Finally snapping out of your daze, you grab the milk your mother asked for, approached the register and paid.

You took your time walking home, enjoying the fresh morning air. You begin to plan how to prove to your parents that you and Sunghoon’s relationship wouldn’t crash and burn in a few years. So far, the plan you thought of wasn’t exactly going to prove to your parents that you and Sunghoon were a forever couple, but as your unlock the front door, you realize that you don’t need your parents’ approval. It’s your life. Not theirs.

Putting the milk away, you realize how quiet the house is and a chill creeps up your spine. “Mom?” You call out, “dad?” There’s no response. “Sunghoon?” You search the first floor, but your parents were nowhere to be found. Climbing the stairs, you stay alert.

Sunghoon wasn’t in your room, and your parents weren’t in theirs either. You notice the bathroom door was shut and your heart begins to race. You hope that maybe your mother and father left to go on their morning walk and Sunghoon was taking a shower.

Pushing open the door to the bathroom you smell the metallic smell of blood before you see the scene in front of you. Your parents lay lifeless on the bathroom floor, their abdomen split open with the amount of stab wounds issued to their upper body. Blood is spilled across the floor, all over the cabinet and the white walls.

Sunghoon was on his knees, hovering over your father as he slashes at his chest a few more times. “Sunghoon,” you whimper, your knees almost giving out.

The knife he was holding drops to the floor. He looks up at you and you gasp once again. Blood covers his face, it drips down his cheeks and his chin. You watch as Sunghoon reaches up to wipe the blood of his face, but his hand was also bloody. He drags his bloody hand across his mouth, getting rid of no blood. It was futile for him to wipe his bloody hand across his mouth. His hand drops back down into the pool of blood surrounding Sunghoon and your knees finally give out.

You collapse, your hands splashing the blood pooling at the entrance of the bathroom. “Sunghoon,” you whisper. You can’t take your eyes off the lifeless bodies of your mom and dad. “What did you do?”

Sunghoon beckons you over. Your body automatically moves to Sunghoon, blood seeping into the fabric of your jeans. Sunghoon’s bloody hands come up to cup your face. The blood is cool against your face, but you don’t flinch away from Sunghoon.

He leans down and kisses you. All you can taste is the blood of your parents but you don’t push Sunghoon away. You sink into the embrace of his kiss as you’re overcome with emotion you can’t describe.

“I did this for you,” Sunghoon whispers, his bloody forehead touching yours.

“For me?” You whisper back.

“Everything I do is for you, Y/N,” Sunghoon kisses you again. You grip his bloody t-shirt tightly. You don’t care about your dead parents. A small part of your brain is happy they’re dead. Now, you won’t be subjected to their judgemental stares for the rest of spring break. “If I can’t have you, no one can, Y/N. I promise you that.”

“I love you, Sunghoon,” you whisper, finally embracing Sunghoon and all of his craziness. Sunghoon would kill for you. He’s proven himself over and over again. “You’ll only ever have me.”

“I know,” Sunghoon whispers back, his hand touching your hair.

“You’d do anything for me, Sunghoon?” You ask.

“Anything,” Sunghoon answers, his lips brushing over yours.

“Good,” you smile.

author’s note, hey…..that was. a lot. idk what overcame me when i wrote this tbh. i was possessed by the ghost of sunghoon in the concept film😊 anyway. i hope you enjoyed this fic! idk if i liked the pacing of it but. oh well. also i dont even think this fic had a plot?? it was just me writing while thinking of sunghoon😭 guys i promise one day i will post a Happy fic on tumblr with no death or murder or ambiguous endings🫶 anyways in case u wanted to know; sunghoon and y/n live happily ever after. idc if its inaccurate but sunghoon never gets caught murdering random people who touch y/n🤷‍♀️ anyways leave ur thoughts! i’d love to read them🩷

[usercelestial]

the whole queer eddie being included in a queer characters posts reminds me of like when people were wishing the bucktommy date scene got cut instead of the eddie and buck in Bobby’s room and eddie praying …when there is that whole random ass scene with no real adherence to the plot or the characters with polly the neighbour right there as an option for them to cut..but no they wanna cut the scene with the mlm queer couple (that many mlm queer men in this fandom love) all because they hate tommy, can’t handle a daddy issues joke, and the fact that it’s not eddie with buck

yeah ultimately a lot of their cries for activism and queer rep are performative. they do not truly care about queer characters or queer representation and i think most people could smell that from a mile away. these people have always been way more concerned with their own ship than with anything else. they like to pretend that if you don't ship The Thing or if you don't hate bucktommy then you must not want eddie to be queer or even like his character and that's. a thought lol. but i think it's really interesting why they've come to that conclusion.

like for me, i love eddie enough that i don't have to change his character to make him something that i like. i love eddie enough to allow him to be his own character outside of my own interpretation of his queerness and outside of his relationship with buck. but at the same time i also love eddie enough to see myself in him and create theories about his identity. these two things co-exist: seeing the character for what the canon shows me he is AND seeing the character for what i'd like him to be. i think most people are able to find the balance and be pretty normal about it. i think these people are genuinely so far deep into whatever they want the story to be that they have to rewrite canon to fit that perception of the character and feel threatened when that gets pointed out.

which again, like i truly do not give a shit if you do cherry pick canon, just don't come for people who are like hey you know that's just your headcanon right? like don't act like your own interpretation is better than anyone else's. it's not, it's still just an interpretation. i do read eddie as queer while still acknowledging that within the canon universe, he is identified as a straight man by canon. which makes my reading of him just a headcanon (aka canon in your head but not anywhere else), no less valid and important but still not the story they may be trying to tell.

i've talked about this a little bit before but i think a lot of the issue here is the idea of playing nice and remembering that this is all pretend which i don't think they've really had to deal with before. a lot of these people have never been confronted with another big kid on the block. their ship has kind of held precedent for a really long time, along with their headcanons and their ideas of what these characters are. so now that buck actually is bisexual and is dating a man, who isn't eddie, suddenly their entire worldview of canon breaks down.

now there's canon gay representation. now you don't have a moral argument to justify your ship bc that thing you've been begging for, "canon bi buck/more canon queer characters" does exist. so now what are you arguing for? just a preferred ship? no that can't be, it must be more than, we must be fighting for something bigger.

but now you're forced to confront that it's all just headcanons and vibes and theories that have ran unchallenged for years and years. so now you have a group of people who do not know how to grapple with the reality they are being shown vs the reality they've created in their heads clashing against people who are fans of the same reality the show lives in and don't really care about the non-canon anymore. which, if that's your prerogative, if you prefer non-canon stuff, then go for it, that's what fandom is for, but the issue here is that they view this as genuinely a threat. they don't want any other interpretation. it doesn't just feel like a threat to their ship, it feels like a threat to the canon world they've created about these characters. they see other people coming in excited for something that isn't their thing, and now feel like we're taking something away from them. they don't want to see canon anymore, even if it's something they used to claim they want. they don't want queer rep, they want to be proven right.

[mythalism]

more solavellan ending thoughts under cut

reading thru the solavellan tag and wow i am so sorry to the people who are so upset at the bittersweetness and messiness overall because i understand how upset they must feel but also im reading these posts so shocked bc idk what people expected??????? i feel like the toxicity and ambiguity of solas/mythals relationship has been clear since trespasser. we have been debating whether or not they were romantic ourselves for 10 years have we not?? i literally made a poll about our predictions about this like a month ago lmao. idk why people are so blindsided by the suggestion that they were fucked up lovers. anyway i loved mythals role in this game. she is an absolute freak and i thought it was the most nuanced and morally grey part of the entire game which was overall sorely lacking in any exploration of morality outside of solas. i enjoyed how villainous he was - again, what did you expect!? we knew he was like this. yes we saw another side of him in inquisition but we have also seen him in myth and in tevinter nights and in the masked empire, we knew what he was capable of. i was really pleased that he was villainous instead of woobified and wiped of all moral ambiguity.

i think his relationship to Mythal also added amazing depth and context to solavellan. i am seeing so many people saying that him having loved Mythal cheapens his love for solavellan which is honestly just wild. a lot of people in this world love more than one person in their life LMFAO. and she wasn’t just some ex gf SHE MADE HIM. she made him into who he is, literally is the reason he exists as he does. he owed everything to her, including his regrets. and it helps us understand why he could not abandon his path for lavellan and why he could not let her join him. to abandon his goals for her would be to betray himself the same way he betrayed himself for Mythal- and look where it got him. it destroyed the world and it destroyed him. and neither could he allow her to follow him because then he would be asking her to do the same thing Mythal asked of him. “I would follow you anywhere” he says in the memory of him taking a body. “i thought i would follow him anywhere” our inquisitor later says to rook. of course he could not let her do that, it’s what Mythal did to him.

Mythal showing up and telling him the burden wasn’t just his and that she released him literally gave me chills. the way he absolutely crumples in her presence was so devastating… and then when he’s bent over crying and lavellan gets on her knees to look up at him. INSANE. INSANE MOMENT. overall I thought their dialogue towards each other was perfect, even if the kiss felt off to me. just bad timing I think…? and bad animation? i think a hand to the cheek would’ve been better. he was literally going through it in that moment so kissing him then felt kind of wild LMFAO. I think that is my overall complaint about the scene is how quick it happens and because it’s happening at the same time as he’s having like 15 other revelations and being given therapy by 3.5 different women at the same time, their reunion doesn’t get quite enough space to breathe on it’s own. i would bet money that the people who are upset about mythals involvement would be less so if the reunion between him and the inquisitor, and the reunion between he and Mythal were two separate scenes both given their own space.

i also think it felt sudden just because we are not in our inquisitor’s head. obviously she makes it pretty clear that she wants to run off with him when you talk to her in the beginning of act 3, I also got a fun comment between her and Dorian in the final mission where he asks if she’s going back to the south after this and she says “something like that” LMFAOOO. but overall I think her just being like ok! Im coming to the fade with you pookie! would have felt more natural if it was drawn out over a longer period of time in the game. it was perfectly in character for my inky so that’s not an issue, I just think it would have been nice to see her reasons and more grappling with the decision. literally the perfect way to do this would’ve been to have her visit the lighthouse and witness his memories and old home herself and see the true extent of his sorrow and loneliness!!! but that would be a lot of work and time and money and whatever so it’s okay.

despite enjoying the ending I still feel just really anxious, I think partly because that entire end sequence was fucking insane and I’m going to be reeling for a long time but I also think the vagueness of their future is gnawing at me. it is very bittersweet and i would’ve liked…. Any explanation as to where the hell they’re going? are they trapped? can’t they just get out? rook got out by facing their regrets so can’t solas just do the same with lavellans help? how is he helping heal the titans if he’s stuck in the fade? why is he in the fade at all? elgarnan was keeping the veil intact with his life force while outside of the fade literally 5 minutes ago. clearly they don’t have to be in the fade to keep the veil up, they just have to be alive. so why are they in the fucking fade LMAO. I thought they were going to literally give up their mortal bodies and become spirits together and then return to the fade, which I think would’ve been my preferred ending. it is a little more full circle; him taking a body for mythal, and lavellan leaving her body behind for him. I think the insinuation that they’re imprisoned is what bothers me and makes me so anxious because idk it’s just brutal???? they are just gonna sit there for eternity??? is lavellan mortal still??? it just seems to be the only part of this that is unsatisfying to me, I just don’t understand the intention. because solas makes it sound so terrible when he literally calls it terrible, and then the epilogue slide of them it clearly looks lovely and sweet and joyful. So I’m genuinely just confused. Hopefully someone will ask trick on blue sky soon. ok I’m literally falling asleep bc it’s 2:40 am so i am going to go dream about them making out in the fade. I can’t believe it’s over I am going to have to mourn the end of this story for a long time

[wuxia-hero]

HELLO coming out of my cave to yell about how much I LOVE The Double (墨雨云间) bc I have no irl friends that love historical c-dramas :’) I’ve been hung up on this show for a few days after finishing it.

Overall 10/10 with a subjectively happy ending (I choose to believe the ending is happy) with really good acting. Wu Jinyan could never disappoint. The frontal camera angles threw me off quite a bit at first but I slowly started to appreciate this artistic choice.

Some spoilers ahead as usual!

Let’s dive into - the Plot. I read some of the original novel in the past but dropped it after a while. There are some differences - such as the novel using transmigration (Xue Fangfei entering Jiang Li’s body) as the main plot point, while the drama explicitly shows how Xue Fangfei’s journey with Jiang Li and how she eventually took over JL’s identity after her passing. Personally I prefer what the drama did as everything felt much more real and believable. This added a depth to the story that transmigration was unable to showcase. Plus, Wu Jinyan’s ability to showcase XFF’s pain and growth as she vows to exonerate JL (played by Yang Chaoyue) and herself was extremely captivating and I constantly wanted to root for her.

All the flashbacks with JL thanking XFF throughout the show had me sobbing in bed at 3am while watching.

Special mention to the king (played by Zeng Ke Liang) as well for not being a total fool - as seen in SO MANY other historical dramas. His friendship with Xiao Heng is rock solid, and seeing the ministers and other antagonists constantly underestimate it was sooo satisfying to watch. So if you hate cdramas with stupid monarchs, you'll be pleased to hear that there won't be any of that here.

Scenes of their friendship were really cute to watch too.

The romantic development between XFF and Xiao Heng (played by Wang Xingyue) was delightful to watch. I love couples that just understand each other. Without explicitly saying anything, without any grand confessions of love, both parties mutually knew each other’s feelings and constantly looked out for each other. The slow and gradual process of them falling for each other was paced out beautifully - XH’s gaze changes as he looks at her throughout the episodes, and XFF gets more and more playful around him. The script and their bantering ticks all the right boxes fkr me. He’s the only person that knows her real identity, she doesn’t need to hide in front of him. And this makes their relationship so much more special.

And I love that there was nothing like making stupid decisions in the name of love and protection while jeopardising the bigger picture. (eg. XH giving up the entire secret army the emperor trusted him with for XFF - turning out to be a hidden ploy) Both XFF and XH were on a quest for revenge and they are determined to get what they want without making any compromise. If at any point of the plot - they deviate from this and decide to do something foolish in order to protect the other, I would have seen it as out of character.

Bonus points for including an archery scene :D It’s one of my favourite overused tropes.

The overall camera work and style of The Double was shot so beautifully and in a rather interesting theatrical style. From JL’s death where she falls among the pear blossoms to Princess Wanning (played by Li Meng) ’s dancing and even the scenes where characters stare directly into the camera. The opening scenes were super dramatic and really set a heavy tone for the rest of the story.

While the staring into the camera took some getting used to, there are certain portions where Wanning’s expressions gave me goose bumps. Li Meng’s performance took me out - her Wanning was repulsive in the way she treated others, yet so broken from her past that I felt so much pain for her towards the end of the story. It was amazing.

There were even comedic elements that made some parts feel like a stage play. Like her cousin and his lackeys’ coordinated walk as they try to help her out from her room. And one of the minister’s love for theatre which was super on the nose I laughed out loud while watching it all play out. The style in which important plot points are presented is so unique and really sets this show apart from other cdramas I’ve watched.

Everyone in the cast was amazing in their roles. While Wang Xingyue is one of the younger cast members, the emotional depth in his performance as Xiao Heng gave off maturity and a temperament beyond his years. Seeing him goof around behind the scenes, and then watching him as Xiao Heng gave me whiplash - but in the best way possible.

Liang Yongqi was a truly despicable Shen Yurong - it got to a point where seeing him on screen made my skin crawl. Liu Xiening as Jiang Ruoyan was perfectly annoying - and I can't wait to see more from her as I've really liked her since she was in Gugudan.

I could probably go on and on about how much I love Wu Jinyan as Xue Fangfei and I’m so happy that they casted her because she was perfect. (Admittedly, I’m biased). But I think you can watch the show to experience everyone's brilliance for yourself. The casting and script pacing was great and all the different pieces fit together into this story perfectly.

Now let's talk about the somewhat controversial ending of The Double. Did our beloved Duke Su die in battle? Did they ever reunite? I choose to believe that he came back to her in the end and they got their happy ending. But Wang Xingyue's performance in that last battle - with the iconic scene of XFF's pendant in his mouth was breathtaking. Regardless, I do think the show could have done without causing the audience pain with this added arc of him going back to his duties - but I felt that it made sense.

Xiao Heng is someone who is deadly loyal to his country and to his king. He and XFF are not the kind to simply escape from the capital and its intrigues to live a happy life on their own. Both value their family and their country, they would never leave the capital to pursue their own happiness.

Also something I noticed - that made this scene so much more painful. At the start after XFF retrieves the pendant, Tong'er (her servant) tells her not to pawn off this pendant anymore. She replies with "there's no one worth trading this pendant for". And then she gives this pendant to XH before he goes off to battle at the end. Cries.

Abrupt end but I think this is most of the feels I have to get out already - I took a lot of screenshots and recordings while watching The Double (haven't felt the urge to do so in such a long time tbh) so there may be more posts from me while I continue yapping about how much I love this show and story adaptation.

smol life update: I’ve been working FT after graduation two years ago - but I was in a pretty bad environment and have decided to resign this year. So now I’m funemployed and trying to work through some health issues. Hope everyone has been well and thank you for reading this! ❤️❤️

[strogoff-era]

Why I also love Lt Graham Gore : aka me talking about my fav for far too long

This post is a companion of @earthshine-moon's post about Graham Gore ! Very good post, go read it ! Also we focus on different scenes so i think our posts are complementary

First, i just want to come back to the sleigh pulling scene. Many people hc Gore to be friend with Goodsir, and this is a very good hc. However, I dont think they're meant to be in the canon. They feel like they haven't interacted much before. And that makes Gore even nicer !! He didn't have to listen to Goodsir talk that much during the walk. He doesn't know that dude ! He could have told him to shut up but he didn't !

Also his behavior in that scene is very stricking to me not only because this is the first time we have a focus on him, but also because of the contrast with his previous scenes.

When Gore is around Franklin or Fitzjames, he is so much more serious. I think this is both professionalism and "my boss sucks ://". But when he is the highest ranking and has to take care of a group, he is thriving.

(the rest under the cut, bc im nice to your dash)

Expanding a bit on Gore's sentiment toward his superiors : Gore is very attentionate toward the crew. You can totally see it with his interaction with Goodsir, but also by how relaxed his sleigh team seems around him.

There is also the diving scene. Graham is not the focus, but he is there with Dundy and Des Voeux. (Btw, i absolutely love how Des Voeux is the lieutenants' intern. They bring him everywhere and he hates it. Just look at him during this scene, he's hilarious). When Collins asks for a surgeon and Franklin & Fitzjames refuse, you can see him frown and look at James. He knows he can't say anything but he clearly disagree. If Collins needs the reassurance of a surgeon, why not bring one ? It isn't too much to ask ? And when he leaves, you can also see he's pissed about this.

It's also in this scene where he does the adorable Nintendogs™ head tilt. I need a gif of it so bad.

Another scene I want to talk about is not actually in the show, but we have it in the script. You remember that scene where Irving shouts at Manson for being scared in the hold and Hickey goes to help him ? In the first version, it was Dundy in Irving's place and Gore in Hickey's. We were robbed !!! I couldn't find the right extract in the script and the link I found doesn't work but here is a post with a proof. I owe my life to anyone who will send me the full script of that scene.

It's hard to determine what the scene is meant to convey since I haven't read it in its context. But Gore is not afraid to call out another lieutenant in front of the men if he thinks he was in the wrong.

Also, I think "Title's no substitute to for common sense" explains his disagreement with Franklin and Fitzjames. Just because there is a power difference between you and someone doesn't mean you should take advantage of it. Had Gore survived past episode 2, I think this sentence would have summed up his decision making.

This post already took too long to write so I'm gonna end it with a bullet list of all the cool things I couldn't include :

When Des Voeux is disrespectful of the Netsilik, Gore disagrees with him. Many acting details I quoted in this post aren't in the script, but Gore being against Des Voeux on this is clearly written.

Also in the script, Gore is described as Sir John's "favorite son". Some food for the "lieutenants and their captain have a family dynamic" lovers ! But also a really good ground for Little-Gore parallels that could be great to explore in fics !

Historical Graham Gore also comes from a naval family and made his debut on his father's boat :)

Actually Sir John and Gore's relationship lives rent free in my head. Sir John loves him but not enough to write an eulogy for him, instead rambling about Jacob's Ladder for minutes before dropping his lieutenant's name right at the end. Nothing is about Gore in this speech, we learn nothing about him. I don't think this was on purpose, Sir John is just like that. But that raises the question whether he liked the Lieutenant or the man wearing that title

Both Sir John and Crozier calls him Graham btw

Historical Crozier and Graham had already met before ! Crozier was a mate on Graham's dad's ship, the one where Graham made his debut on the sea ! :D Graham was 11 at that time. Please make this fact into a Terror hc, it is very cute

Another historical fact that should become fanon : Graham played the flute

And finally, the most important fact about the Lieutenant Graham Gore : In the script, Jacko was supposed to go in his arms instead of Irving. Monkey likes him

[infiniteetcetera]

RAPID FIRE ACOTAR CHARACTER HOT TAKES

. [Mostly focused on side characters but thoughts about our mains too BC why not]

🔥Emerie is one of THE most underrated characters and deserved a bigger storyline in ACOSF (obviously it’s Nestas book but other side characters like Gwyn, Feysand, etc got more time that could have been hers)

🔥I don’t know why people really like Helion or want him with LOA😭 mans has let her be in an abusive relationship for DECADES & I feel like if he really loved/deserved her he would have blood dueled by now. he might make a fine father for Lucien but I don’t want to read a love story that involves a few centuries of abandonment

🔥I like genuinely wonder often if the rest of Lucien’s brothers are evil evil. Like if Eris is playing along to their abusive dad’s whims, how do we know the rest of them aren’t? They likely don’t know Eris is different so why would he know that about them? Lucien didn’t? IDK i’m just curious about more Vanserras

🔥Jurian is genuinely one of the funniest characters👀 his revival may be a little pointless but his vibes are immaculate and he’s underrated

🔥You don’t have to hate Mor for leading Azriel on (there are others reasons to not like her) but she definitely did💀aside from the fact every character including her says it we get literal scenes of it too. like she FR tells Feyre he has a huge dick and just says so many other sexual/romantic things about him that are NOT platonic, it makes sense he’s been confused AF😭

🔥Kallias and Viviane have one of the sweetest love stories in the series and I wish we saw more of them. they also just have such good vibes & if they’re gonna keep popping up for little cameos I want more deets

🔥TW SA: I won’t even argue about Tamlins wrongs against Feyre bc i’ve done so before & it isn’t worth the breath BUT it bewilders me that so many people ignore/excuse what he did to Lucien😭 aside from just the generally abusive vibes he not only ignored what Ianthe was doing to Lucien (when equally if not more depressed people like Feyre/Rhys noticed) but also made him have sex with that creepy ass predator😩 Lucien’s struggle with that is so overlooked in general but still bothers me people ignore Tamlins fault in it and that Lucien is now groveling for his friendship

🔥 While on the topic of SA, i’ve seen a lot of people in the fandom have such a gross attitude about what happened to Rhys recently. like man has plenty of flaws and has done a lot of wrong things but that’s not an excuse to make jokes about him being SA’d for DECADES especially when male SA representation is so rare and it’s dumbass jokes like the kind fans are now making that makes guys feel uncomfortable about speaking up

🔥One more on this topic, the SA Nesta experienced is also SO overlooked, even by the narrative itself. The general fact she was using sex as a form of self harm/punishment is also weirdly addressed a few times but then excused if it’s with Cassian in a way that’s so gross

🔥Feyre and Rhys having Nyx so soon was a bad decision. No matter how many people bring up the “oh they were so close to dying” “oh they don’t want to waste time” blah blah blah doesn’t change the fact that’s a TERRIBLE reason to have kids😭 like does the fact they made that decision kind of make sense given what they experienced? sure! was it at all smart or level headed or much more than a trauma response? literally no

🔥I feel like Rhys’ mom…kind of sucks? She’s spoken about more highly than any of the other ACOTAR parents but she literally forced her son to go to a child soldier camp she knew was full of misogyny, poverty, and a bunch of other barbaric practices, did nothing to help any of the other kids unless she was forced to (Rhys brought cassian home, and Az’s mom begged her to take him, she then let Rhys & Cas beat on this poor traumatized boy) and overall Rhys turned out far from perfect but actually could have been SO much worse when you think about it

🔥On the topic of bad parents KIER BEING ALIVE STILL IS SO STUPID AND MAKES NO SENSE.

[eddiediazismyhusband]

No but you’re so right about not wanting to watch season 8 because after how they handled the doppelgänger storyline I don’t want to watch it, with the rumours Gavin isn’t coming back and how this show has handled estranged parents storylines in the past I just have zero faith they’re going to do Eddie any justice especially after they sent him back to before the show levels of development, practically erasing everything we’ve seen him work on from seasons 2-6, like I can just picture the Diaz parents redemption and Eddie thanking them for taking Chris and ignoring everything a little like they did with the Buckleys

And something something this show hates happy queer parents, I don’t know how to really articulate this but like even if they do a gay Eddie storyline now, it’s not sitting right with me that it’s only happening now Chris is gone, like I know Eddie filters life through Chris/doesn’t really know who he is without the parent role etc etc I know that but with the way they treat Henren on the show and the way they treat Denny and Mara’s storylines, it almost seems like they weren’t going to let Eddie figure himself out while also actively parenting—it’s giving the straight grandparents need to save Chris from his gay dad (like they wanted to all along) i don’t know if I’m getting my point across well but it’s giving a “if you’re queer and a parent you will not be happy on this show your kid/s will get taken away from you”

👏👏👏

this. i understand the argument that eddie needs a chance to examine things without looking throughthe Chris lense, but it feels like he absolutely 100% could have had the realization because of Chris. like it would have taken chris saying he views buck as his dad one time and eddie would have spiralled and everything would have begun to fall into place— i get gavin having conflicts due to his move and possibly having to leave the show but there were so many other ways to essentially write him off (yes ik nothing is confirmed and that he very well could come back in a much slimmed down onscreen role such as may/harry) but it feels like they just went “eh… eddie started to reconcile with his dad…. let’s just send chris away even though eddie realistically would not have built up that much trust in this short amount of time (especially w helena)

and i 1000% agree w it mimicking the henren trauma bc why are we targeting the black lesbians with the same storyline we already saw with Nia…. why are we now lumping eddie into the traumatized poc paranoid losing their kid trope? especially if they plan to make him queer?

like i fully understand this show is a drama, but i miss when it was a DRAMA and not a SOAP OPERA… like earlier seasons had their fair amount of dramatic shit going on but this is just ridiculous and some of it feels farcical to me at this point… especially with the handling of buck’s bisexuality where his coming out scene to maddie included a joke about “always checking out a hot guy’s ass” once again reducing his character down to sex even though Buck has grown past that… idk it just rubs me the wrong way that we’re either sex-hungry, sassy, traumatized, or all three in one and it doesn’t sit right with me.

also them actively chosing to make a known problematic character queer just to serve as a plot device for a sexuality arc that didn’t even live up to any potential bc they kissed once, went on a coffe date and bam they’re suddenly together? even for a straight couple that’s such an anticlimactic relationship buildup let alone a queer one… and not only that but using his queerness as an excuse for his racism and misogynistic behavior as a way to sweep it under the rug is so icky to me… like why is the only decently treated canonically queer character Josh??? (even though even he was part of that whole hate crime plot!)

it’s so hard as a queer person to watch other queer people be told by straight people that they should settle for what we have… and that those queer people listen and also somehow think that settling is all we can do. i know it’s easy to settle for shit, but i’m sorry i did not spend six years watching these two build something beautiful to see it thrown away because what they gave us is (not even) “good enough.”

it really is disheartening.

anyway sorry for turning this into another rant post, anon, i just liked your added point of the traumatized queer parent thing and wanted to expand on that some more!

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello, please don't take it bad because, through the question maybe the tone can be a bit weird also I know you talked about it hundred of times.

But as a Loumand enjoyer and someone who take them for what they were,creepy,toxic, unbalanced but also beautiful because i like good chemistry and no one can deny their good chemistry right? Jacob and Assad were beautiful together.

What i don't understand is why,i keep seeing from most of the fandom the reasons they don't like them is because they were toxic/weird dynamic, aren't all the relationships in the VC romantic or not,toxic/weird?

I promise i didn't make a fanfic in my head,i knew from the start we were watching a divorce but they still had some on-screen good moments?

They will still be important for each other lives in the future right?

I feel like most of the vitriol i see for them (not from you) is because Loumand feels like a ''threat'' (I can't find a better word) to the existence of the two main pairings.

I don't think they were because of the dungeon scene is a proof they were never meant to be but still I'm sure some people felt threatened.There no other reason i can see.

In the future they will be other weird dynamic between other characters and i can see them receiving such a treatment.

Also I know some Loumand enjoyers are the reason we are seen as the annoying part of the fandom including myself.

All good :) (your tone is fine^^)

Tbh I haven’t seen much of what you refer to (I barely make it out of my inbox and DMs right now 🤪) but I think what you witness now is the backlash after almost two years of “Lestat is an abusive racist and we cannot wait to see Louis in a healthy, wholesome romance with a POC character and nothing of Lestat anymore“.

Like, don’t misunderstand me, I‘m not saying you did this. But this definitely happened. The show never promised Loumand to be wholesome, but since it was commented on as healthy and wholesome on the podcast many took that as fact. Pointing out book canon things were met with “anti accusations“ (even by some I would have never expected it from). Suggesting that the “tale“ might not be correct was taken as racist, and abuse apology bc the black man was “made to be a liar“. No matter the cast and writers and crew comments on this. (But I‘ve been over this in my rant, it’s linked in my bio if you want to read it, not rehashing it all now).

And that for over 1,5 years. There’s comments on my fics you wouldn’t believe. And no pointing out discrepancies, nor book canon facts made any dent into these accusations. It was always argued that the show is its own thing - and that is true - and yet they have now circled back MUCH closer to the book canon than I had actually anticipated.

So.

I get that it’s hard right now? I have said before that I see Loumand as totally valid - but for me it is mostly later on, when it’s on equal level. I think it is totally valid to enjoy them now, too, while being aware of the manipulative layers and the fucked-up dynamics:))

Ultimately… there’s not much for you to do except curate your dash. Go and block haters freely, leave those voices that you like or that disagree with you on a respectful level.

Especially for future (also rather toxic) pairings that WILL come up this will be MO. :) Fortunately tumblr has some practical tools there. ^^

[pegasusdrawnchariots]

Not Shipping Tag Game

tagged by its creator @ninadove~ 🥂

For all relationships — OT3s, broTPs, besties, coworkers, families — that are just as fascinating as (if not more so than) what's happening in the romance department!

List as many/few as u wish & tag some friends :)

Before anyone yells at me: could u ship them romantically? Yes. In fact, some of these also feature on my top 10 ships poll! But that's not what this one is for. Sometimes people are intimate & codependent & silly & toxic & in cahoots & match each other's freak — all this without romance needing to enter the picture

Tagging: @ninadove @oatflatwhite @pixelated-glitter

@justbecringe @dying-suffering-french-stalkers @longagoitwastuesday & anyone else who wants to play! Just say I tagged u :)

Unhinged babblings abt some of these broTPs under the cut so as to spare yr dashes

(Liz don't look at the Leverage one)

Mulder & Scully: yes I love MSR yes I love them as colleagues yes I love them as friends. All is true. For this poll, I have them included as toxically codependent worsties <333 I love how Chris Carter stripped their personal lives away bc Mulder is wholly devoted to the quest & Scully is wholly devoted to Mulder's devotion. Like, Mulder doesn't even have a bed. He eats, sleeps, & breathes this quest. & Scully took one look at him & was like "this man is insufferable & beyond compelling. I'm tanking my career just to see where this all ends up 👀" & they're colleagues. COLLEAGUES. What if we were each other's compass (Field Trip) & each other's pillar (Wetwired) but NOT each other's romantic soulmate (The Field Where I Died) 🥺 & we were colleagues? 😳 Again, I love MSR but Chris Carter's vision for whatever the fuck these two had going on was unparalleled & the fans pushing him to make Mulder & Scully end up together romantically was a MISTAKE there I said it. Seasons 1-5 my beloved. But whatever. Yr main stars are rlly hot & have insane chemistry I get it. The airwaves weren't ready for freak-matching of this proportion that stayed platonic 😔

Winters & Nixon: the Winnix agenda wouldn't be nearly as powerful as it is if they weren't before anything else & at the end of the day Besties :)

Renée & Roe: cute as a ship AND as friends, but the deciding factors here were: A) kind M/F friendships are important to me personally, B) I'm not by default shoving the One Named Woman in BOB into a romantic ship w the only guy she talks to, & C) imo if ur in the dark hell of trying to heal people in an active warzone while the bodies pile high & u won't even hear the shell that kills u, establishing a platonic link is ×100 more compelling than a meetcute w a dating prospect. to me.

Helen, Odysseus, & Menelaos: tbh 70% of the reason this is here is bc of the scene at the Trojan Horse. Where Helen walks around it mimicking the voices of the Greek generals' wives & calling each of them by name, & Odysseus is inside fighting for his life clamping his hand over their mouths & wrestling them back into their seats to prevent them from blowing the whole plan. Genuinely would love to see more of them specifically pitted against each other or working together. I would risk it all for One (1) crafty canny hero, let alone TWO. 20% of the reason they're here is due to the way Menelaos & Helen (but mainly Menelaos) talk abt Odysseus in rhapsody 4, when Telemachos visits them for news of his dad. Oh my god. Oh my god. & the remaining 10% is everything that goes on in the Menelaiad. John Barth are you fucking kidding me. Lives were changed

Cyrano & Roxane: listen no-one ships them as hard as I do (with the possible exception of @ninadove & Henri Le Bret) but THEY WERE FRIENDS FIRST. They were besties!! They were kids together, they learned how to be silly together, & they're silly together to the end (see the gazette scene)!! Also see the hushing scene 🥺💀 In the Weber version, when they keep going "chut ! chut ! 🤫" at each other, at some point towards the end they go "chut !" at the same time & instead put their finger over the OTHER ONE'S mouth >>>>>>> oh my GODDD oh my god they're so playful & fun & their friendship sustains me

Parker & Eliot: "teach me to like things" just kill me now that would be kinder. The intimacy the insecurity the vulnerability ༼;´༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ༽ Eliot possesses weapons-grade freak & Parker regularly leaves him in the dust, & he's visibly weirded out by this but that's as far as it goes. He regards her w such respect & trusts her about as much as someone like Eliot can trust. & Parker also clearly admires Eliot!! She sees a trait in him that she likes & asks for it directly!! Their friendship just GRAAFAHGFRGRHHFFGR. The moon emoji is there for that one scene in The Three Days of Hunter Job btw. Where Eliot tells her he's seen the rocky sets they used to fake the moon landing. "And they're gonna paint them red & reuse them for the Mars landing" BWXSHHFDKJ I can't with them

[blanketorghost]

SIDE A:

I fell in love with the ideal person But as you can see They had to go And it is the love that tore apart my entire heart and soul When holding hands, In the park we kissed and tears fell On fallen rose petals And, sadly, they told me so: "I have to leave, And it's not because of me, my heart lies with you All the love of my insides, my chest and my soul I know one day I will return."

SIDE B:

It was you who said goodbye And yet tears run down your cheeks If you are going to erase even the memory of yesterday like this, That's enough. Just smile for me. I sing and sing about love, one that's out above the clouds But I can't see it with my clouded mind No, no, we talk and talk about those regrets that grow day by day, and as the night swarms We forgive each other but there's no meaning to it.

SO HEY UH. LIL SNEAK PEEK OF THEIR BREAKUP ARC???

TW: for mention of underaged sex (??? only adding this just in case bc it all depends if you think their bio ages are counting their bdays during the school year the main story takes place so they'd be 17/18 respectively but I consider them to be before the school year so they'd be 18/19)

ANYWAYS HI

I decided to make their breakup so specifically heartbreaking i myself choke up a little when I imagine the scenes I'll have to write (I'll definitely cry)

So uh.

The inevitable happens and Yuu has to leave. The days leading up to his leaving date things are very tense between them. A lot of their conversations are thinly veiled arguments about Azul wanting Yuu to stay and Yuu telling him he has to leave even though he doesn't want to. Azul thinks that he's making excuses and wants him to admit that he values his life on earth more than their relationship─ Yuu just wants Azul to understand that he has way too many responsibilities and life issues he needs to tie up before he can even think about running away with him to another dimension where he has nothing to his name and could slow Azul's progress down (It also doesn't help that Yuu never actually tells Azul just how famous and influential he is on earth). Yuu also thinks that they could try making a long distance relationship work since Idia and Ortho are working on ways to allow Yuu to reliably travel since they've already managed to make phones work, but Azul is very against long distance because he thinks Yuu would fall out of love if Azul isn't physically there to be of use to Yuu. They always get out of these fights by apologizing and just expressing how sad they are they can't be together but they ultimately never decide on anything. It's actually so stress inducing for everyone because they were in their whole honeymoon phase before this.

There's a whole going away party the day before Yuu leaves and even though it's fun, everything is very bittersweet and I even have this cute scene where Grim asks to go to sleep on Yuu's bed like how they did before Ramshackle was fixed up pre ch.3 🥺

BUT ANYWAYS before the Grim scene, Azul texts Yuu to come to his room in Ramshackle (Yuu often gifts the dorm's spare rooms to friends including Azul ofc) so they can talk about what they're going to do. Yeah well the conversation gets derailed and they end up having sex for the first time as like a way of Yuu physically trying to show Azul that he will love him forever no matter what //sobs

Thats when Grim barges in after they're done and asks for Yuu to sleep over. With Azul's permission he goes and sleeps with Grim but he still feels guilty because they did something very intimate together and if able he would've wanted to spend the night with Azul instead. Yuu ofc can't say no to Grim because he also loves him a lot, though.

In the morning then Yuu wakes up and makes breakfast for Azul as like a way to apologize for not staying over+ maybe make up and talk more about what they'll do?? but when he goes over to Azul's room he finds out that Azul left even earlier in the morning and broke up with him through LETTER.

So uhm yeah Yuu is obviously very heartbroken about all this but he tries to keep a strong face for his friends since he is literally leaving today and doesn't want anyone to feel even worse than they are rn. All while Yuu is giving his goodbyes, he doesn't see Azul and thinks he just dipped and won't say goodbye in person. But Azul actually does go at the last second and they say goodbye, trying to leave their relationship in amicable terms despite everything and despite they're both crying like babies. But then Yuu kisses his forehead tells him he LOVES HIM so Azul decides to play the bad guy and say goodbye to him for good.

Obviously he eventually regrets that decision but in the meantime,

here we are

also fun fact!! Yuu's vc is Symag (alongside others- im trying to catch a vibe) and this SONG in Yuu's canon he actually writes it after their break up so legit this song is about Azul in Yuu's universe BYE

[riptidesblog]

So many people hate Misako for making one bad decision in an impossible situation(no matter what,Lloyd would be the Green ninja,the inevitability of Destiny is a common theme in the show).Lloyd forgave her.Lloyd loves his mom(look at the entirety of Island and some other scenes from s2,s5,s7,Oni trilogy and so on).Garmadon who the fandom praises for being a good dad nearly killed him,wasn't in Lloyd's life too,constantly belittled him in Crystallized and the only good memories Lloyd has of him(and they're tainted by his later actions) is whatever time there was between s2 and s3,s3-s4+some from ToE and his final words in Possession.Way less that Misako.Sure,there was gd's venom, prophecy and Harumi,but if Garmadon can be forgiven all that,why can't Misako be forgiven one irrational decision in a moment when it was impossible to think rationally?Especially if we don't know much about that from her pov: maybe she tried different options,maybe Darkleys lied to her and to a lot of other parents about being a safe boarding school,maybe Darkleys were the safest option she could find considering Lloyd's heritage.

There are also parents that have similar situation and yet aren't hated as much:Ray and Maya.They too were in a situation where they had to choose and motivation was to save their kids,but they ended up hurting them anyway.THAT'S THE WAY THE COOKIE CRUMBLES.This is literally what happened with Misako and Lloyd.Misako apologized,was forgiven and became a part of Lloyd's life,his family.

Another argument I see in Misako hate is that Lloyd was forced to forgive her:HE WASN'T.Wu offered her to join the team and she said only if Lloyd wants her to.Lloyd was free to choose.

Also,would the ninja really allow someone who is a bad parent into Lloyd's life?No.Cole calls her Mrs.G at some point,she gives advice to Nya and constantly helps out with her knowledge. Misako in on good terms not only with Lloyd,but all of the team.

Wusako.The love triangle was bad writing.That's it.Only other love triangle in ninjago is cole-nya- Jay one and it's not written great either.Garm made a choice that based his relationship with Misako on a lie and also affected Wu.Why should she be obligated to still love a man that changed beyond her recognition and lied to her about an important thing?Besides,there really hasn't been much of Wusako.There was something in s2, love triangle in s4 and the rest of their interactions seem more platonic.'Lloyd should not have to watch his uncle become his father'. That did not happen bc as previously stated, Wusako was barely there and if the two were to ever become a couple,they'd likely talk with Lloyd about it.Also,Wu is already a father figure to all of the ninja including Lloyd.

LLOYD DOESN'T HATE MISAKO AND SHE IS NOT A BAD MOTHER.