#these are the songs on heavy repeat the past week or so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vngelicc · 1 year

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d o i w a n n a k n o w

p a i r i n g : jungkook x reader

g e n r e : stalker-yandere au.

t a g s : obsessive!jk, stalking, yandere, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con to dub-con (oc gives in but these are heavy non-con/dub-con elements), fingering, spanking, degradation, dirty talk (lots lmao), talks of baby-trapping, BREEDING KINK, unprotected sex, masturbation, hidden cameras, voyeurism, slut shaming(?), pussy spanking (doesn’t happen as much like you think it does lmao), blow jobs, head-pusher!jk, talks of imprisonment, actual imprisonment, there’s a cage for .2 seconds, dark!seven au, jk has lots of pet names, JK IS A SEX ADDICT AND WALKING RED FLAG, stockholm syndrome(?) debatable but tagging to be safe, morally grey!oc, oc is a anxiety ball, mentions of hoseok, oc has horny guilt LMAO, implied pregnancy, jk is CRAZY, size differences, jk corners oc a lot, face fucking, cum swallowing, lmk if i missed a tag!!

w o r d c o u n t : 19.8 k

s u m m a r y : “Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for someone new. Now I’ve thought it through, crawlin’ back to you,”

How long has it been? Weeks? Days? Months. You weren’t keeping count anymore—haven’t been ever since that happened. You make your way through the busy crowd, headphones plugged in and some depressing song from your playlist ringing softly through both ears. It’s cloudy and breezy—a gloomy sight—you think there’s a chance for rain later on.

“Excuse me.” You mumble under your breath and push past everyone, bumping occasionally into someone.

Every so often an uneasy feeling creeps up your spine, like you’re being watched or something. He’s here, a sinister little voice says in the deepest crevices of your mind. Your breathing picks up and you turn your head, vision hazy from how fast you’re walking to keep up with the traffic flow.

Blurry—just faceless people going about their day and trying to get to their destinations.

You slow down a tiny bit, your earbud hanging out of one ear as you take one good look around your surroundings. Nothing, just stores and faceless people combined with the sounds of beeping cars and engines that become background noise. You find yourself staring ahead of yourself, a grim expression and your lips pursed.

“I’m losing it..” You whisper.

You turn back around when you hear it. “y/n.” Your body goes stiff, his voice alone sends you into an anxiety-ridden frenzy.

Your breathing picks up and your feet start moving faster and faster. You keep looking back in all sorts of directions trying to pinpoint his exact location. The entire world feels like a blur, there’s so many voices all around you start wondering if they’re all him. It’s a nightmare-ish hell not knowing which one of them is him—or rather could be him.

“...Jungkook.” You quietly whisper.

Slowly, the world comes to a halt once more—everything falls back into place—you flinch as droplets of water hit your face. The sounds of traffic bring you out of your trance and suddenly you feel like you have room to breathe again. You settle one hand over your chest and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“y/n.” A startled scream slips past your lips as you shudder violently and spin around. Jungkook’s arms constrict your movements with the way he wraps himself around you.

“Jungkook–let me go..!” You curl into yourself and try to move away, no one bats an eye as you two stand in the middle of the crosswalk in the midst of the crowd. Your smaller hands grip his forearms weakly as you desperately try to shove him off, “What are you doing, let me go.” You repeat, a bit more forceful this time.

Jungkook only grins down at you and tugs you closer, “C’mon baby don’t be like that. How long’s it been? Weeks? Months? I know that you miss me deep down as much as I miss you.” He whispers down in your ear in that low husky tone he always spoke in whenever you two were pressed up like this. “Don’t be so cruel sweetheart and give me a kiss.” He dips his head down but you move at the last second causing his lips to drag along your cheek.

You level him with a stare, “I don’t miss you at all, in fact I haven’t thought about you for months now,” you push against him with a grunt of frustration because he doesn’t budge, “My answer was no the last time and it’s no this time, what can’t you understand?”

“Because I know you’re lying to yourself. You say this but when I ask you to look me in the eye, you can’t baby.” Jungkook turns to give you a chaste kiss on the cheek once more, “I know you still want me—us.” He pulls back to look deep in your eyes, forehead against forehead.

Your eyes drop down to his lips and a sense of familiarity washes over you. You recall the times he had his lips on yours, from how soft his kisses could be to the way he kissed you with such passion/force like his life depended on it. Your eyes slowly find his own and for a second you forget you’re both in the middle of a cross walk in the sprinkling rain.

“Don’t think baby,” Jungkook whispers as he leans down, “just feel.”

A loud honk suddenly shatters the illusion, you flinch from the loud noise and yank yourself back. You hear Jungkook curse under his breath, “Don’t follow me, I mean it Jungkook.” Your voice is wobbly but you do your best to sound firm.

You quickly turn on your heels and surf through the crowds of people, ignoring their pointed looks from your shoving. The metro is twice as crowded (more than usual), you easily blend in with everyone else on the platform. Occasionally you look over your shoulder to see if he followed but you see nothing.

The familiar sound of a piano begins playing in your ear, you slip your other earbud back in and lean against the pillar as you wait for the train to make its stop.

“I put a spell on you,

because you’re mine,

You better stop the things you do,

I tell you, I ain’t lying,

I ain’t lying,”

The train comes to a screeching halt and you push yourself off the wall, heading for the opened doors. You tuck yourself near the corner of the train in front of these old grandmas and group of highschool teens. You hold on to the pole in front of you and let out a breath of relief, heart coming to a slow and calm beat.

You always get like this after seeing Jungkook, he works you up into a frenzy and when you run off you’re left with a stupid adrenaline high that takes what seems like forever to come down from. You’re always left with an ugly feeling in your stomach, dread clouding your senses and an immense amount of guilt. One of these days you feel like you’ll give in all over again.

Jungkook just makes it so difficult.

At first it didn’t bother you fresh out of the breakup, you had been clouded with anger and frustration the first weeks. Then when weeks turned to months of him trying to get you back you started falling into denial.

Was the breakup something you wanted? Why did you seem to enjoy the way he begged for you? No matter how hard you tried to push those thoughts away a ugly little voice in your head was always there to remind you.

‘Admit it, you want to let him in.’ It’d say. You do, but no one has to know that’s how you really feel.

Someone taps you on the shoulder nearly making you jump out of your skin as you turn to look at them. Some girl stands with an apologetic look on her face, “Sorry, I’m just trying to pass through.”

You shake your head and step aside, “No, excuse me.” You mumble out and look up at the window, finding a reflection of yourself staring right back.

The loud screeching noises of the train coming to another stop has you casually looking to the side. The doors open and more people get on, some exit and others like you stay put. However, right as the doors close that's when you see him.. Your heart picks up again and you stare directly back at Jungkook who’s standing there with a devious look on his face.

“No, no, no,” you turn around and look for a way out, the next stop isn’t for another five minutes and you’re running out of space to get away so running off isn’t the best option you have right now.

You start backing away, slipping through the crowd and whipping your head back and forth in time to see Jungkook advancing towards you with a predatory look in his eye. He’s zeroing in on you making his way through the people blocking his way. Your breath hitches as your back finally hits the wall, there’s nowhere else to run anymore, and Jungkook knows this too.

“Running from me again?” He chuckles as he cages you in between him and the wall. He sets his hands on either side of you, effectively trapping you in. Your eyes dart around but no one seems to be paying attention, it’s times like these you wished people weren’t actually minding their own business.

“I know you miss me,” his breath is hot against your ear, it sends chills down your spine and has you shuddering in a pleasant way, “I know you want me..” He drops one hand down to your hip, gently caressing over it with his thumb, “Can’t you feel how much I miss you?” He breathes out and presses right up against you.

Your face grows hot in arousal, you can feel the print of his hard cock right up against your thigh pressing dangerously close. You bite back a low whimper and look up at Jungkook, “I-I,”

He gently shushes you, “Remember what I said baby: don’t think, feel.” He slides his lips against yours.

The kiss re-awakens the once hidden desire you had stored away in the darkest corners of your mind. Your eyes flutter shut and you tangle one hand in his hair, the other curls around his neck and holds him down against you. Jungkook seems to like that a lot because he lets out a muffled moan in your mouth, the hand he had on your waist now moving down behind to your ass.

You can hear the train coming to a stop and your eyes open as you take the opportunity to look over his shoulder. People are gathering their things and standing from their seats, you know this isn’t your stop but hell, you’d rather walk the extra three blocks to get to work than be stuck on the train with Jungkook.

“Baby,” he mumbles against your lip and desperately paws at your jeans.

The second he pulls off your lips you duck under his arm, he turns to swiftly grab your arm and try to reel you back in. He misses you by a few centimeters.

“Goodbye Jungkook.” You whisper and disappear in the crowd of people leaving him there by himself with the same hunger in his eyes he had earlier.

When you step out onto the platform you slip your headphones back in trying to calm your racing heart once again, the song playing becoming an eerie reminder.

“Do I wanna know?

If this feeling flows both ways?

(Sad to see you go)

Was sort of hoping that you'd stay

(Baby, we both know)

That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day,”

Jungkook and you once had been happy together, you weren’t going to deny that.

You had met through one of the rare nights you went out with friends for drinks and food. Your closest friend, Seulgi, had been the one to introduce you two, she thought he’d be perfect for you. Seulgi had NOT been joking around when she said you’d like Jungkook.

You both talked the entire night finding each other much more interesting than the alcohol that sat untouched. He had you hooked with his precious little bunny smile and playful nature, sure he had been touchy but who said you weren’t a little touch-starved yourself? You found yourself craving more of him, leaning into his touch and giving into his cute antics.

The night ended with Jungkook asking for your number and promising you a private date later in the week. Dating Jungkook was a different story however.

Jungkook was..different. You weren’t exactly used to the princess treatment and sudden obsession over you when you both began dating, you liked to think you didn’t like it but sometimes you weren’t so sure if you were saying that to convince yourself. Jungkook didn’t seem to have a single care for the world if it wasn’t about you. He was possessive, obsessive, jealous—everything that you should have looked out for according to the damn book.

Yet you didn’t, you stayed by his side like a moth drawn to the flame. Jungkook had single-handedly managed to become your entire world, poisoning your mind with his sweet words and passionate kisses. He made you forget about everything, until there was nothing but him left..

Jungkook had come clean about his sex addiction even before you two started getting serious. You sat in silence when he opened up about his struggles and how it impacted his life. In a way you felt sorry for him, it was clear he didn’t ask to be going through this. Oh how you were a fool..

Jungkook stopped completely going to his sessions once you two made it official, at first you were worried but Jungkook always reassured you that it was fine. You let it slide for the first couple of months because you were stuck in the honeymoon phase of your relationship with Jungkook, too blinded to really see the problems brewing.

His addiction became an inconvenience and disturbance in your lives. He went from fucking you at least two times a day to full blown whenever he could get his hands on you. It started off tame until he resorted to fucking you in places where you two could surely be caught. He’d bend to whisper darkly in your ear before whisking you away to some place “private”, where he proceeded to fuck the living daylights out of you.

You could never really resist his charms and begging whenever he wanted to fuck you. A sick part of you loved this—how he would pick you up like nothing and manhandle you to his liking, how he’d take what was his and worship the very ground you walked on. It gave you a sick thrill knowing you had him around your finger, but all good things have to come to an end don’t they?

You come to the realization through Seulgi. “That’s not a relationship y/n,” she said, “it’s unhealthy for you and him to go on like this, this is more like an exclusive friends-with-benefits.”

After hearing that you questioned everything in your relationship with Jungkook. So you did what you thought was the best in this situation: you left.

You had felt horrible but what else could you have done? Jungkook wasn’t proving to you that he was going to try to get help again, and if he said he was going to he’d simply go for one or two meetings and then go back to that vicious cycle—and you were tired of it (physically and mentally).

Oh how you’d come to regret it.

“Hey y/n, I think there’s someone here to see you? I don’t know he didn’t tell me who he was but uh he told me to tell you he’s waiting for you down in the lobby.” One of your co-workers said as soon as you walked into the office.

You gave her a quizzical look but she merely shrugged and went back to work. Trying to think of who it could be, you check your phone to see if anyone you knew texted you over coming to visit. It couldn’t have been Seulgi, she always called you ten minutes beforehand to let you know she was on her way. You don’t live close to family like that so they were out of the question.

“Oh.” Realization dawns on you, “Jungkook.” You whisper and hurriedly run to the elevators, hitting the first floor button a bit too rough. “What does he want now?” First the train station, now your job? Were you safe ANYWHERE?

The elevator dinged and you stepped out, looking around for the tall curly headed fuck who decided to yet again come bother you. You spotted him sitting there with a grin on his face as he stared at you from afar. With clenched fists you walk over, “We’ll talk outside.” You say through gritted teeth.

Jungkook lets a low whistle slip from his lips, “Whatever you say.” He follows after you with a lazy strut, his eyes practically glued to your ass. You don’t even have to look to know.

“What do you want now Jungkook?” You say without turning to look at him, you stand in front of a food truck cafe(?) just a little ways down the street. “I thought I made it clear the last time we spoke about us.” You smile briefly at the food truck employee and place an order in for the two of you.

“Damn baby you’re so cold, not even a how are you Jungkook? Have you been eating okay or anything?” Jungkook chuckles, “When did you become so mean?”

You side-eye him in disbelief, “Me, mean? When I’m literally the one being followed and stalked by you everyday since we broke up?” You say softly as you take both drinks and hold one out to him.

Jungkook takes an annoyingly loud sip from his drink, grinning from ear to ear when he sees your annoyed expression, “I don’t see it as stalking, in fact I’m the one running around chasing after you just trying to get back together. You’re the one whose got it fucked in the head if you think I’m stalking you, unless you’re into that shit baby. I know you were into some weird shit but this?” He snorts.

You don’t reply because you don’t trust your voice, or anything you have to say as a matter of fact. “Right.” He gives you a shit-eating grin while leaning against the food truck, “Admit it baby, you like it, I always knew you were a little fucked in the head but this? You like the chase?” He steps closer.

The silence feels so loud between you two afterwards, you can’t look him in the eye right now. “Look,” you sigh softly, “I have to go.” You shake your head and give him one last look before you turn and head back to your job.

He doesn’t follow this time.

. . .

“Secrets I have held in my heart,

Are harder to hide than I thought,

Maybe I just wanna be yours,

I wanna be yours, I wanna be yours,”

Jungkook sang under his breath while he sorted out a few wires, “Wanna be yours,” he trails off and lifts up the object he’s holding in his hand, “I wanna be your vacuum cleaner, breathing in your dust,” he whistles and walks towards the large glass window pane, “wanna be yourssss,” he ends with a soft little whistle note as he gets up on the small ladder he has with him.

“That should do it.” Jungkook hums to himself, admiring his own handiwork. Jungkook takes a step back and looks around the room with a satisfied hum, when he deems everything fit he heads out, making sure not a single thing is displaced. “I just wanna be yours, wanna be yours…”

A small green check mark lights up his phone, a robotic voice following shortly after, “Welcome, your new security camera system is now: activated.”

“So you haven’t gone out or anything with anyone? I mean I kinda figured since it’s been like a few months since all that happened.” Seulgi off-handedly says while stirring her drink around with her straw, “C’monnnn you haven’t thought about it at least once?” She pouts.

You shake your head fondly, “No not really. I kinda don’t have time to think about stuff like that, got a big project coming up and you know how that gets..” You sheepishly reply with a shoulder shrug.

Seulgi gives you a ‘I know you’re lying’ look, “Sureeeee, I can count this many times on my fingers the amount of guys that have either checked you out or tried to ask you on a date.” She wiggles her fingers, “Is it cause of Jungkook? Cause if it is girl forget him! You’re single now, you need to go out and live a little.”

You take a nervous sip from your drink and shake your head, “Look I don’t even know if I made the right choice in leaving him! We weren’t that unhappy, it was just his stupid sex addiction that was tiring me out! I could have just made him get some help and we would have been good,” you pout petulantly, “ ‘s just that sometimes I think I made the wrong choice.”

“Babe, I love you and all but you need to be a little stronger than that. Jungkook is the same guy who beat up another because he hit on you, we’re talking about the same Jungkook who had a unhealthy codependency with you and was pretty fucking obsessive. I’d say you dodged a fucking tank.” Seulgi scoffs, “Besides, he would have just gone and did the shit he was doing whenever you tried sending him back to therapy.”

You hated that she was right about everything. Maybe it was high time to see other people and try to get out there. Deep down the very thought of meeting someone who isn’t Jungkook didn’t settle right with you. As much as you loathed the idea you knew you didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. “I don’t know..” You push your empty glass to the side.

“Hey,” Seulgi smiles sweetly and sets her hand over yours, “just think about it yeah? You don’t have to meet someone new, we can have fun in other ways like a girls trip or something!” Yeah a girls trip sounded nice.. “It’s getting late but give it some thought.”

You both pay for the tab and head out of the bar all giggles and smiles. “I’ll see you next week, yeah? Lunch is on me!” Seulgi waves after parting ways with you, “Text me when you get home!” She blows you a kiss.

You pretend to catch the kiss with a quiet chuckle, “Bye.” You wave back, “Get home safe..” You mumble softly and turn to head in the opposite direction.

It’s pretty late but you’re not too concerned given that people tended to stay out and live the night life in the city. You take one look at the night sky before plugging in your headphones, “She said goodbye, too many times before,” you mumble under your breath and lose yourself within the crowd of bustling people, unknowing of the hooded figure headed in the opposite direction.

. . .

Jungkook had his hands placed all over your body. He sported a soft grin on his face, his onyx eyes watching in glee as little moans left your lips. “There you go,” he said, “let go for me baby.” He whispers darkly and leans down to slot his lips against yours.

You lean into the kiss and whine softly, Jungkook doesn’t stop there as he brings your hips up in a bruising grip, pressing down and letting his hard cock rub against you. Your mouth waters a tiny bit just thinking about how he’d fuck you silly with that fat cock of his. It had you mewling for him, pawing at his sweats as you tried to get his cock out.

“Ah-ah,” he stops you breathlessly, “not until I say so baby.” He stares down at you with a glint in his eyes, “Let me take care of you, I’ll fuck so you good you forget all about today baby, just say the word.” He says as he presses his forehead to yours, “Go on, say it.” He whispers.

You jolt when his fingers slip between your sopping folds, rubbing up against your swollen and tender clit. “J..ungkook..” Your eyes shut in pleasure, “Please,” you grind against his hand, basically humping it at this point, “Fuck me, please, need it so bad.” You whimper.

Jungkook chuckles, “Good girl.” He leans down to bury his face in your neck, “Good fucking girl.”

Your eyes snap open and you jolt upwards in bed. You try to control your labored breathing with a hand over your wildly beating heart. “What the..” You look around your room, not a single thing misplaced. You figured it was another one of those nights—another “dream”.

“What is wrong with me..” You whisper out and bury your face in your hands, blinking away your disoriented gaze. You sit in bed like that for a few minutes calming your racing heartbeat and the throbbing you feel between your thighs.

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had a wet dream like this, it’s been a normal occurrence for weeks now. You’d go to bed then wake up soaked in sweat (and other places you don’t mention) and then go back to sleep hot and bothered. It was on repeat at this point.

Your tired eyes shifted over to the alarm clock sitting by your bedside, “Two am..” You chuckle humorlessly and shake your head, “God what is happening to me..” You mumble and lay flat on your back.

You stare at the ceiling for a few minutes just collecting your thoughts and trying to get a grip on yourself. “What is that?” You mumble in confusion and squint your eyes when you see a small red dot blinking back at you. “I must be going crazy.” You shake your head and turn on your side.

The red dot blinks the entire night, sitting so innocently up high.

“You’re single now, you need to go out and live a little.” It rings in your head the entire morning.

Even as you sit there in your private office you swear you can hear Seulgi’s words loud and clear in your ears. It’s really starting to bother you now, you’re half tempted to take your lunch early and nap or something.

After waking up from the wet dream you had tossed and turned in bed for a good hour because Seulgi kept coming up. You swear you feel like you’re going crazy, this was just as bad as getting an annoying song stuck in your head. If not even worse.

“Hey y/n,” Hoseok peeks in, “got a minute?”

You lift your head up with a tired smile, “Sure, sit down.” You gesture to the chair, “Did you need something?”

“Well kinda..? I don’t know if that’s the proper wording but yeah, but first here,” he sets a perfectly glazed cream donut on your desk, “Soojin brought some in and I figured you could use one.” He sits down across from you, “How are you?”

You look down at the delicious looking donut sitting on the paper plate, “I’ve been..okay. Not the best but you know how it is with these big projects,” you accept the donut, “what about you? How’s the presentation coming along?.”

Hoseok shrugs, “It’s going okay, can’t say I’m too enthusiastic about it but it’s whatever. Anyways, that’s not what I came for,” he sheepishly smiles, “I was wondering if you were free tonight?”

You stare back at him in awe, “Tonight? Oh, well,” your mind drifts off to the same words from last night, “I’m free..” You mumble while playing with your desk plants, “So…tonight?”

“Yeah..sure,” he sags in relief, “so..see you tonight?” He smiles.

“Tonight.” You nod smiling back at him. You’re not so sure if your own smile mirrors his enthusiasm, but you tell yourself not to think that way. He says a quick bye and runs out of your office, leaving you a tiny bit doubtful. “Damn you Seulgi..” You mutter under your breath.

When he’s for sure gone you take your phone out and begin dialing Seulgi knowing the girl is on her break by now. It rings forever and ever until it sends you to voicemail. “That’s funny..” You mumble, usually Seulgi never misses a call, and if she does she texts you during the call letting you know if she was able to talk or not. You check your messages and see nothing.

“Hmm,” you call one more time but this time the call immediately declines. She must be busy, you think as you send her a quick text. ‘Call me ASAP, I just got asked out by that one guy I told you about.’

After hitting send you think nothing of it and turn your attention back to your monitor, blissfully unaware.

. . .

The phone finally stops buzzing and Jungkook releases a sigh of relief as he shakes his head, “So fucking annoying.” He mutters while setting the device down on the counter.

He sees it light up with Instagram notifications but he can’t be too bothered with those at the moment. He stares out the window with the coffee mug brought up to his lips, it’s a beautiful day out today..reminds him so much of you..

“Flowers would be nice..” He hums, “Maybe some chocolates.”

The phone pings loudly once again—a few times at that—and this time Jungkook can’t ignore the stupid phone and peers over to look at the screen. He nearly doubles over when he sees your name on the screen, “Shit.” He hisses when a bit of coffee spills on him.

When Jungkook cleans up the mess on himself he turns the phone back on, his eyes scan over the message, almost manic and anxious. But just as quick as his smile came it was gone..it was replaced with an unbridled rage. His grip on the phone tightened until he suddenly flung it violently into the wall, hearing the screen shatter and clank to the ground loudly. He was trembling with rage.

“So it’s gonna be like that..? Just gonna..throw me away?” He mutters darkly while staring blankly at the wall, “Cute.”

“Gave you all the money, gave you all my heart, your masquerade party, I was fucking drunk,”

You hum while taking a sip from your glass of wine, mindful of the baby pink robe you had on. It had been about a good hour with you just sitting there in front of your vanity listening to music and drinking wine. Seulgi still hadn’t gotten back to you—let alone open the messages you left her—you were getting worried now, half-tempted to call her again. You decide against it though because Hoseok messages you about the restaurant.

“Ugh…where are you,” you mutter quietly while tapping on Seulgi’s profile in hopes of her being active on Instagram, “could really use your help..” You shake your head.

You give up after seeing that she hasn’t been active at all, in fact the last time she was active was literally yesterday when you both split up after the bar. You wonder if work was kicking her ass too. “Whatever.” You send her a picture of you curled up in your chair throwing up a peace sign, ‘wish me luck xoxo’. With that you finish getting ready.

You don’t realize how much fun you’re having until you go for another sip of wine and then realize you completely drained both the glass and bottle. A soft pout forms on your lips as you drop your eyeliner over the surface, “Well that sucks.” You softly sigh as you stare at nothing (you must be tipsy given that you spaced out like three times before this). “Ugh.” You groan and push yourself off the chair.

“Stupid robe,” you shove the silky garment off, letting it pool at your feet as you stand bare in your lace panties/bra.

In your drunken haze you spot the same red blinking dot from the other night but this time it’s by your bookcase. You stop for a few seconds and stare at it before rolling your eyes, “That’s it, I’m literally going insane.” You throw on your pretty little silk dress which falls off your shoulders and manage to find both Prada loafers you were looking for all day since you got home.

You pose in the mirror for a few seconds before huffing and going to get your phone, “Seulgiiiii,” you whine into the phone, “it’s not funny anymore answer meee, I need you to tell me if I look good or not.” You lift your phone up to show your entire outfit to the camera, “Stop being a bitch,” you hiccup drunkenly, “okay gotta go, love you.” You mumble and stop recording.

With your look being done you gather your coat and purse. As you wait for the elevator doors to open you feel your phone buzz and out of curiosity you fish it out of your purse and turn it on to check it. “Finally,” you sigh in relief when you see who sent you a message, ‘looks great mama, where you guys heading?’

“Mama?” You snort but bite your lip in excitement and start typing back..

The place Hoseok chose happens to be the same restaurant Jungkook took you to when you finally broke up with him. You stand outside with pursed lips. This place was bringing back memories—ones you worked so hard to repress and store away for good—and now you were forced to come back to the only place you swore to never step foot in again. It wasn’t like it was Hoseok’s fault, how could he have known?

“Hey,” you say once Hoseok picks up the call, “no yeah I’m here, I’m outside.” You cover your ear with your other hand and walk around a bit to avoid the crowds of people walking by.

“I’m like less than five minutes away, traffics really fucking bad tonight,” Hoseok chuckles on the other line, “You should just go in, I made a reservation under my name already, that way you aren’t standing outside or anything since the weather’s bipolar as hell.”

You chuckle softly, “Okay, I’ll head inside and wait for you then,” you turn to walk back when you suddenly freeze up, body going eerily still.

“y/n? You still there?”

You stand there in sheer terror when you see who’s sitting there leaned back on top of the hood of his car. Jungkook’s eyes are already on you as he watches from afar with a soft smirk on his face. You notice that he has a large bouquet of flowers sitting in his other hand. “Y-Yeah I’m here,” you whisper, “I just dropped my purse I gotta go I’ll see you when you get here.” You hang up in a hurry and start walking faster.

“Hi baby.” Jungkook licks his lips when you’re face to face, “Don’t you look darling? What’s the special occasion?” You hate it when he looks at you like that, like he’s ready to flip your dress up and fuck the living shit out of you in front of all these people. “What’s the matter? Cat’s got your tongue.” He pushes himself off his car and comes to stand right in front of you.

You look Jungkook up and down, god he looks so good right now in his white and black striped shirt jean combo. His hair's messier than usual too, you just wanna grip it tight like you used to whenever he had his face buried between your thighs— “Baby?” He grins in amusement.

“What are you doing here?” You swallow nervously while your eyes dart back and forth. You don’t even fight it when Jungkook’s hand comes to rest on your hip his thumb rubbing over it gently

“Ain’t it obvious?” He chuckles, “Came for my baby.”

You don’t bother to ask him how he found out about you coming here, you see Hoseok’s car pull into the valet a mere few feet away from you guys. That certainly has your breathing picking up, “You need to go,” you push at his chest, “right now Jungkook, please.” You whisper out in absolute fear.

“Why?” Jungkook’s smile drops as he stares at you with a cold look. His eyes follow yours and he stares darkly at Hoseok, “Oh I see now baby, scared your new boyfriend is gonna find out?”

“Stay away,” you wheeze as you try to control your breathing while stepping back, “I swear if you ruin it I’m going to hate you forever.” You point a finger at him while rushing into the restaurant.

As your breathing evens out you jump in terror when someone’s hands come up to rest on your shoulders. “y/n! Oh shit, my bad I didn’t mean to scare you.” It’s just Hoseok..

“No it’s my fault I wasn’t looking.” You whisper with a hand over your chest, “I didn’t go because I saw you pull up and wanted to wait for you.” You finish lamely.

Hoseok can see how nervous you are right now, he looks at you like he isn’t so convinced but he doesn’t push it luckily, “Okay, let’s go.” He smiles and offers his arm to you.

As you both stand in front of the hostess you can’t help but turn back to look outside. Jungkook’s still there where you left him, staring at you and Hoseok with that knowing look in his eye. You’ve seen it before too, and it sends a tremor down your spine while Hoseok leads you away. You sincerely hope he doesn’t do what you think he’s gonna do..you don’t know if you’ll die then and there.

“I hope you don’t mind I chose this place, heard it’s really good here.” Hoseok pulls the chair out for you, “In case you’re disappointed or something, not that I’m implying that it just seems like you’re kinda lost here.” He says with a sheepish smile while taking his seat across from you.

You quickly shake your head, “No, no it’s fine. I’m just a little scared from earlier is all,” you take a large gulp of water, “You know how it is with anxiety and all that jazz.” You try to brighten the mood with a smile. Hoseok luckily lets it go rather quickly and you both fall into a comfortable conversation while the bustling restaurant behind you becomes (a rather comforting) background noise.

You quickly come to realize Hoseok’s rather pleasant to talk to. He’s the textbook definition of a gentleman with you, he makes sure to listen attentively to you and isn’t afraid to show you how invested he is in your business. You like the attention he’s giving you given that it’s been a cool minute since anyone had truly sat down to just listen to what you had to say etc. You like talking to him, a lot more than you find yourself willing to admit out loud.

You even forget about Jungkook.

“How’s the food?” He asks with a grin.

“Mmm,” you nod while wiping your lips with a napkin, “delicious, I don’t think I’ve ever been to a place where they actually made my steak the way I asked for.” You giggle shyly while hiding your smile behind your hand, “What about you?”

Hoseok shrugs, “It’s alright I guess,” this makes you burst out laughing, “what..?” He chuckles, “I’m being honest! Here, try some of mine you’ll see what I mean.” He holds his fork out to you and clearly you don’t expect him to feed you but at this point you don’t care you’re having too much fun right now.

“I like that you offered me literally what I’m already having, just slightly more medium-rare.” You snort, “You’re so funny you know that?” You lean your head against your hand with a fond smile.

“I’ve been told.” Hoseok gives you a closed-eye smile, “I think you’re funny too y/n, this might be one of my most favorite nights ever.” He slowly slides his hand over your own, just letting it sit there but you can tell he wants to hold yours.

You find eye contact too intense and avert your gaze down to your intertwined hands. It feels so right..but so wrong for some reason. The same ugly voice starts whispering things in your head, ‘He’s not Jungkook, I bet Jungkook can fuck us ten times better than this guy.’ You bite down on your lip to suppress your annoyance, you have to find a way out of this—and quick.

The interruption comes in a rather unorthodox manner as the chandelier suddenly comes plunging down right next to you guys. You jump in terror and pull back, “Oh my god–” You quickly stand up to avoid any debris. Hoseok jumps out of his seat too, rounding the table to crowd you as he asks you various questions like: “Are you okay?” or “What the hell just happened?”

Through all the commotion you see Jungkook at the bar, propped up against the mahogany wood with a toothpick in his mouth and a sinister look. You feel another wave of anxiety take over slowly as your hands become clammy and your balance a bit unstable. “I’m g-going to the restroom.” You tell Hoseok and rush away, not bothering to stop and hear whatever he has to say.

At the same time you see Jungkook push himself off the bar and start making his way over. “No, no, no.” You mumble and pick up the pace, rushing down the empty hall and towards the women’s restroom. You should be safe in there right?

The bathroom is dimly lit by the cheap fluorescent lighting, you push through and make your way into the last stall and lock yourself in there. Your breathing is labored and comes out uneven, or at least you think it’s uneven. You don’t know and you’re not exactly worried about that right now.

With an exhausted sigh you slump against the wall and let your head thud against the tile gently, “God this is a mess..” You mumble and hide your face in the palm of your hands. You sit in silence, the small buzzing sounds that the lights make keep you from wallowing in your misery as you slowly start coming to your senses.

You’re hyper aware of everything going on around you right now—the sounds of the water drops from the faucet, murmurs of staff outside, the lights—everything. You perk up when you hear the low creak the door makes as it’s pushed open. It hits the door frame with a dull thud—creaking even. You don’t give it too much thought until you hear it.

You sit straight and push yourself as far as you in the corner, trembling as the sounds of his expensive oxfords click against the tiled ground. Jungkook whistles a low tune, pushing the very first stall door open. When he finds nothing he goes to the next, then the next, and then the next. You put a hand over your mouth, watching as his shoes slowly come into view as he makes his stop right next to your stall.

When he finally comes to a halt in front of your stall he stands there calmly, whistling even more now as he patiently stands there. You stare at his shoes in horror and peek through the small crack in the door, he stands there with an intimidating yet scary smile. The whistling really sends your nerves into overdrive as you shakily reach for the latch.

With a click it unlocks, you wait with a bated breath and then slowly push it open. Jungkook slowly comes into view, he stares at you silently just taking you in with his dark eyes. You stare right back with your lips parted in a silent plea. For him? You don’t know what you want from him right now, but lucky for you, you don’t have to do too much thinking.

Jungkook grabs your face in his big hands, shoving you into the stall again as he kicks the door closed with a loud bang. His lips are on yours in seconds as he pushes you up against the tiled walls, huffing quietly against your lips as his hands come up to tug you close, body against body. You whimper in defeat and finally give into that stupid voice that plagues you in your nightmares.

You bury your hands in his hair and move your lips against his own just as passionately. He hums in approval and snakes his hand under your thigh to grip it, you take it as a sign to wrap it around his waist. With this position your throbbing little cunt is pressed right over his hips, closer than most times he’s cornered you.

“Mm..ah..Jungkook,” you whisper in between the harsh kisses, “wait–mm,” his lips sloppily claim yours kiss after kiss until saliva begins dripping down the corners of your chin. You arch your back and push your hips into his rather demandingly, “Jungkook, please.” You mewl softly while moving in slow circles against him.

“Please what baby? After you tried to give away what’s mine to that little priss outside? You think you really deserve it baby?” He growls, “You’re fuckin’ mine,” he presses you harder against the wall, “letting that motherfucker put his hands all over you…after you’ve been so mean to me and run off everytime you see me? Gonna make me beg for it sweetheart is that it? You want me to beg for that little pussy?” He cups your cunt through your panties, pressing the palm of his hand firmly against you. “Hm?”

You cry out quietly and shake your head, “No–I wasn’t gonna,” you throw your head back with gritted teeth. He interrupts you with a sharp smack against your cunt, one that has you keening in humiliation and arousal, “Jungkook..!”

“Wasn’t gonna what, hm? Were you planning on giving him this slutty little pussy after all? Were you going to lie to me sweetheart, is that it?” He growls low in your ear, “You can fuck him all you want baby,” he whispers as his fingers dip into your soaked panties, “but you know deep down no one is the same as me, no one knows your slutty little cunt better than I do baby.”

Your mouth falls open in a silent cry as he sinks two thick fingers into your poor throbbing pussy. There’s a sloppy squelching noise that resonates between you two as he fucks his fingers deep inside. You let out shuddery breaths and cling to his shoulders, pawing at him desperately as you tighten your leg that hangs uselessly around his waist.

“Hear that baby? Bet he wouldn’t be able to get that little pussy talkin’, wouldn’t know how you like it fast and hard you filthy slut.” He leaves marks over your neck and shoulder, uncaring that your “date” was still sitting outside waiting for you to come back.

He pounds his fingers knuckle deep, brushing them up against that spot that drives you crazy. Your moans spill from your mouth uncontrollably, they go from breathy and high-pitched to loud and clear. If anyone were to walk in it’s over, for fucks sake the door isn’t even closed!

“J-Jungkook..” Your eyes slip shut and you whimper, “More,” you gasp out and tug him closer. You turn your face and slide your lips against his mouth in a slew of messy kisses and kitten licks, “Please..”

“More?” The palm of his hand smacks against your sopping folds from the force of his movements, driving his fingers in deeper (as much as it allows him to be honest). He pistons them in and out of you quickly, so fast your pussy tightens around the thick digits greedily, your orgasm building in your core steadily from the hot pleasure. “Like this? Or like this?” He purrs as he brushes against your g-spot teasingly.

“Like that..!” You throw your head back and moan, “Oh god…” You whisper, eyes clouded in tears of pleasure.

Jungkook kisses up your shoulder and towards your ear, “Let go for me baby, I got you.” He whispers hotly in your ear, “Cum all over my fingers sweet girl, make it messy like you know how to.” His wrist flicks up, fucking your pussy with his fingers almost like he’s actually fucking you—the same force and brutality.

Your legs quiver, pussy squeezing around his fingers as another dollop of slick runs down his wrist and your inner thighs onto a small puddle that formed during the finger fucking session. “Jungkook..!” You wrap your arms around his neck and press your forehead to his, “Yeah–like that,” you whisper breathily while staring into his eyes, “gonna cum.” You bite your swollen lip and muffle your moans.

Jungkook licks his lips hungrily, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. When he feels your thigh stiffen he slots his lips against yours to swallow your moans and whimpers as you finally cum. You ride out your orgasm on his fingers by grinding back and forth on his hand. Loud whines and cries slip from your lips as you greedily fuck yourself on him, only stopping when your poor cunt throbs from overstimulation.

The air between you two is hot, everything slowly comes to a halt and you feel like you can breathe again. Jungkook’s lips slip from your own with a smacking noise as you slump against the wall whilst panting softly. Jungkook easily follows, leaving gentle little kisses all over your neck to soothe the bite marks he had been leaving prior.

“Mm–off,” you tiredly whine and shove at his arm, “ ‘s too much.” You mumble.

Jungkook lets his fingers slip out from your gaping cunt, he doesn’t bother with cleaning his fingers and merely sucks the digits in his mouth, licking them clean with a devious look on his face. Before you can even think about anything Hoseok suddenly pops back into your head. Your eyes widen when you realize you left him out there all by himself.

“Oh no, no, no,” you mumble out while pushing Jungkook off and scrambling for some toilet paper to clean yourself with, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” Jungkook stares at you with a brow raised given that he’s never heard this many cuss words leave your mouth ever.

“What’s wrong?” He moves to cage you in, “Where you goin’ baby?” He lazily drawls out.

“Back out there,” you snap in annoyance, all this pushing and shuffling around in the tiny ass stall has you irritated and feeling claustrophobic, “I can’t just pretend like Hoseok isn’t out there waiting for me.” You mumble while wiping at your inner thighs.

Jungkook shrugs darkly, “I can.” He says so easily, “C’mon sweetheart, forget about him.. We can go back to my place and I can fuck you so good,” he whispers out while pushing you against the wall, “can fuck you on my bed all night baby.” He grins, “Might not even make it with how sexy you look in this little dress.” He whistles.

“No Jungkook,” you sigh tiredly, “whatever happened just now is a one time thing, it shouldn’t even have happened! Especially here of all places, are you insane?” You shake your head and throw your trash out, “I mean it.” You look up at him, “Now get out of the way please.”

Jungkook licks his lips, “Give me a kiss sweetheart.” He calmly says. You stare at him in disbelief but when he makes no effort to move out of your way you timidly reach up to cup his face and bring him down for a gentle kiss. Jungkook hums softly as he pulls back with half-lidded eyes, “Come home with me.”

“Goodbye Jungkook.” You whisper and push past him as you hurry out of the bathroom. This was so not what you were planning..

“Your call cannot be connected, please try again,” A sigh of frustration leaves your lips as you hang up the call and close the app, “This is the fifth time..” You slump over on your sofa mindlessly scrolling through your messages.

It’s been a week since Seulgi suddenly went AWOL on you. You had texted her to see if she was up to go out for lunch but you got no response, and for days now her replies seemed dry and odd. Something just felt completely off with her and now you were tempted to go over to her apartment yourself to see what was going on with her. You prayed and hoped she was okay though, wherever she was.

With a fruitless sigh you toss your phone on the couch and sit there listening to the pouring rain outside. The sky was a gloomy pale blue color contrasting to the city lights below, the people walked on without a single care for the weather. You should know given that you spent your afternoon sitting in front of your large window watching the people and cars down below with a warm mug of tea on your lap.

“Seulgi..where are you.” You whisper softly while curling into your blanket. You’re watching a random tv show when suddenly a loud clap of thunder and everything around you darkens slightly. You sit there in silence staring at the once animated flat-screen. “Greatttt.” You groan out and rub your temples, “Just what I needed, perfect.” You push yourself off the couch and head over to the dinner table to turn on the candles there.

Not even a few seconds pass by when suddenly everything re-animates, you hear the sound of your microwave starting up, the tv turning back on, and the lights once again brightening the entire room. You stand there with the candle halfway in the air, a look of annoyance etched on your features. “Make up your mind will you?” You scoff and head into your room with your phone, intending to re-connect your phone to the wifi along with your other devices.

You turn your computer on with a lazy hum and let it start up while you check your phone’s connection status. You mindlessly tap on the screen, accidentally clicking your bluetooth tab instead of the wifi one. Before you exit the tab you suddenly go still, “Oh?” You see a new name sitting there instead of your usual speaker etc.

“Monitor system: 1.” You read out loud, a brow raising in confusion. Your home first off was huge, these weren’t your regular apartments—no these were massive luxury condos mixed in with penthouses. You lived on the top floor and most condos were separated handsomely with each having their own space to prevent any noise complaints. For there to be a new connection/device around only meant that it was coming from your home directly.

Your neighbor’s walls weren’t nearly as thin for your phone to reach their own wifi radius, let alone their devices. This new device was inside your apartment.

You stride over to your computer with purpose, immediately wasting no time in logging on and opening one of your newest softwares you currently had been using for work purposes. It acted as a signal tracker of all sorts, it was able to get the job done (via IP addresses of certain nearby devices). You waste no time in entering the information you needed, the sound of your fingers diligently typing away at the keyboard filling your otherwise quiet bedroom.

The computer gave you an endless source code, you read along the lines of it and came to find out it was one of those hidden cameras judging by its original source name. You scroll down a tiny bit and your breath hitches in horror, the coordinates it gave you were a mere few feet away. You wouldn’t be able to exactly pinpoint the location but knowing the signal was coming from anywhere inside of your home sent chills down your spine.

Your breathing picks up as you look around your seemingly innocent bedroom, not a thing misplaced or out of sight. You were a minimalist so it wasn’t like you had too much clutter sitting around. It can be anywhere, it can be anywhere, it can be anywhere. You repeated like a mantra in your head as you began tearing apart your bed, shoving at the pillows and comforters.

You have to find it.

. . .

Jungkook swiveled his computer chair side to side while watching the scene in front of him through his brightened computer monitors. He had three sitting around him all showing him different angles and displays. On the screen he gets a clear picture of your panicking form mindlessly throwing things around your room, looking under every crevice and surface—practically tearing your room apart to find his cameras.

“Cute.” He chuckles softly while biting his thumb, “Do you think she’ll actually find them though?” He turns his head to look at his guest with a crazed look in his eye, “Or do you think we’ll have another week with them up? I mean she’s my smart girl, ain’t a computer whiz for no reason.” He mumbles more to himself.

A low whimper—albeit muffled—comes in response, he hears shuffling behind him so he turns his chair around to look at the source of his oncoming headache. “Oh right, I forgot you can’t talk with duct tape on your mouth.” He laughs quietly while shaking his head, “I think I like you better this way though, you were always loud.” He turns back around and goes back to watching you.

“Any day now..”

The day that came after the rain was both clear and windy, you found it a perfect time to spend some time at the gym to get some things off your mind (also because you paid a hefty amount of money for this membership might as well?). You started off tame with the treadmills before you went off to some random machine, what you liked about this gym was that it was hardly ever packed. Introverts like you LOVED that.

“I watched a change in you, it’s like you never had wings,” You nod along to the song’s steady rhythm, fully enjoying the guitar in the background. The sweat was building up rather quickly as you paced yourself, you were looking forward to having a good workout today, hopefully last night's events fade away into nothing.

After you had found out about the hidden cameras, yes cameras, you went on a rampage tearing your entire house down. You were desperate to find them, not even the full blown smoking session you had after miserably failing to locate the things could soothe your poor mind and give you a night's rest. You were up tossing and turning, you think you got an hour max of sleep if anything.

Just thinking about how you failed last night is enough to have you pushing through your burning muscles and keep going. You quietly pant in frustration, face twisting in anger as you wipe the sweat from your brow. Today you weren’t going to dilly dally, you were GOING to find those pesky cameras and burn them to hell, along with whoever did this.

So far you had one obvious prime suspect, Jungkook. He knew your passcode to the house first off, put two and two together and you have yourself a (proven) theory, not a hypothesis, a theory. It would make no sense to accuse anyone else you hardly ever needed maintenance done at your place, and if an official from the apartment building came they were quick about it and under strict security measures. That’s why you paid the amount you did for your condo.

It had to be him, who else does some weird shit like this?

A huff of frustration leaves your lips as you stop for a moment to catch your breath. You close your eyes for a few seconds and count to ten before yanking one earbud out and getting up. You turn quickly and gasp when you hit a solid chest, “Shit I’m sor—Jungkook?” You peer at him in confusion and annoyance, “How did you get in here? You don’t even–ugh nevermind get out of my way.” You shake your head.

Jungkook stands there with a proud little grin on his face, arms folded over his chest as his meaty arms on display, “Workin’ hard baby?” He chuckles.

“Was, but you’re here now.” You roll your eyes and walk down the aisle of machines, “What do you want? I’m not in the best mood to deal with your antics today,” you take a deep breath, “in fact you’re the last person I wanna see right now.”

“Who’s the first?” He gives you a shit-eating grin, he ignores the ‘you’re not funny’ look you cast at him, “Relax baby, I’m just playing around. Are you always this tense?” He says as he gently grabs your shoulders and rolls the stiff muscles under his expert hands.

You suppress a tiny moan and roll your shoulders to shove him off, “Jungkook stop, I’m really not in the mood right now.” You mumble out and look at him, “Are you going to let me workout in peace or you going to bother me and waste my time?”

“Just trying to help you relax sweetheart, what’s got you this worked up for hm?” He tilts your chin up with his finger, raising a brow questioningly when you take too long to answer.

You’re stuck looking at him with glossy eyes, you just want to cry and you don’t even know why. You look off to the side and shake your head, “Come.” You grab his hand and lead him to the hallway away from everyone else, “I need you to tell me something and I want the truth Jungkook, I mean it Jungkook because if I find out you lie to me I’m so done with this and I really won’t want you near me.” You plead softly while grabbing his arms, “Are you or are you not the person who put hidden cameras in my apartment? Yes or no.”

Jungkook stands there with a look of surprise on his face, no trace of malice or nervousness anywhere. “No.” He calmly replies, “I would never do that baby,” he pulls you into his arms and runs his hand over the small of your back comfortingly, “what’s going on baby?” He whispers.

You press your cheek against his chest and hide your face, “I found out someone put cameras in my house, they’ve been watching me change, sleep, shower Jungkook.” You choke on a sob while trembling, “And I don’t know what to do. I can't find them, I've looked everywhere for them and nothing’s working!” You whine in frustration while tilting your head to look at him, “What do I do?” You whimper.

“First things first baby we need to go about this calmly or else we’ll be going in circles and go nowhere.” He says and cups your face, “Can you do that for me baby?” He asks softly watching as you nod, “Good girl, we’ll get to the bottom of this okay? I swear.” He presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

Technically you shouldn’t have allowed that, in fact you shouldn’t even be here standing pressed up with him like this. You’re a sucker for comfort though and you need reassurance now more than ever. “I gotta go,” you whisper while pulling away.

He gently tugs you back in by your waist as he leans down with his lips ghosting over yours, “Give me a kiss sweetheart, just one.” He murmurs right before you can protest his request.

You stare at him hopelessly and bring him down for a gentle kiss, resigning to your fate since he’d most likely not let you go without a kiss. Jungkook deepens the kiss, lips moving expertly over your own with a low rumble. He cups the side of your face with his large hand and strokes over your cheek with his thumb. It elicits a moan but you slip from his grip with a wet noise, you bite your bottom lip rather roughly and stare back defiantly at him.

“You said only a kiss.” You whisper.

“I know, but I just can’t resist sweetheart.” He breathes out and hoists you up in his arms, marching down the hall to the private shower rooms.

You attack his neck in a flurry of kisses, biting down on one particular spot as payback for last time when he marked you up. He hisses low and kicks the door open to one of the stalls, immediately turning the water on. Hot water sprays over the two of you and you pull back in panic, “Shit wait my phone!” You yank your headphone out and toss your things under the door and away from the wet tile.

Jungkook doesn’t ease up in fact he pushes you against the wall and begins kissing down the column of your neck, roughly squeezing your ass through your now soaked spandex shorts. “Fuck,” he says in between kisses, “you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy baby, I came three times just thinking about your soaked little pussy on my fingers. Even now you make it so hard to control myself,” he whispers harshly against your throat.

You quiver in excitement at the thought of Jungkook beating it to the mere memory of what happened almost a WEEK ago. It had your clit throbbing pleasantly as you tilt his face to look at you, “You really think about me?” You softly murmur.

He bites his lip with a groan, like your touch is the best thing he’s ever felt, “Fuck yeah baby, every night and day. I think about all the ways I had you in my bed baby, bent over and spread open stuffed full of my cock. I can’t help it, you drive me crazy, you made me like this,” he presses his hard cock against you, “it’s your fault I’m like this baby, so take responsibility.”

You choke on a moan and bite your lip, “Sit over there,” you whisper pointing to the small ottoman in the corner, “now.” Your eyes narrow when he moves a little too slow for your liking.

Jungkook curses under his breath and lets you down, going over to the ottoman and taking a seat. He starts to push his sweats down but you stop him, “I’ll do it.” You fall to your knees on the slippery tile, your smaller hands replace his own and you tug his sweats down enough to fish his cock out.

The mushroomy head peeks out and you want to moan out loud seeing that he went commando. His cock snaps against his stomach with a wet slap, a beady string of precum dribbles out of the head and down his thick veiny shaft. Your mouth waters as you take him in your hand and stroke him slowly, listening to the low moan he lets out as his head rolls back against the wall with a dull thud.

You watch his lewd expressions closely and lean down to let your hot mouth hover over the tip, “Please baby,” he whispers, swallowing harshly. Your thighs rub together to soothe the ache you feel between them, you like this—him begging—it makes you feel like you’re in control for once. Maybe not by a lot but it greatly pleases both you and your ego.

Your lips wrap around the leaking head, tongue coming down to poke at his slit and swirl around the sensitive tip. Jungkook moans breathlessly, watching as you slowly take more and more of his cock into your mouth. Your lips are stretched obscenely around him, like you’re struggling to take him—something he’s always loved whether it be your tight little cunt or your mouth.

Jungkook grips the sides of the ottoman tightly with his knuckles turning white from his grip. You don’t like that one bit so you gently tug his hand and pull it towards your head. He gets the message and immediately buries his hand in your hair, fisting it tightly as he hisses, “Oh fuck,” his lips part as he leans his head back and swallows harshly, “like that baby, feels so fucking good.”

You choke on a whine as you struggle to take the rest of him from the sheer girth and size of him. The tip pokes the back of your throat every so often as you bob your head slowly. You missed having his cock in your mouth, the delicious weight and curve sitting so perfectly over your tongue. You find yourself eagerly swallowing around him, throat constricting around his cock as you coat his cock with a layer of slick and slobber.

“Fuck.” He growls out, his grip is unforgiving and he uses it as leverage to shove your head down on his lap until your nose is touching his pelvis. “Yes,” he gasps out, “like that, suckin’ it so good for me.”

You sputter around him and pull back with a heavy gasp with a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips to the head of his messy leaky cock. “C’mere,” he pants, “can I fuck your throat baby?” He rubs his thumb over your glossy lip, “Hm?” You find yourself nodding timidly, lips parting for him as he guides his cock back into your mouth.

This time you feel more prepared for it as you set your hands on his thighs and look up at him with shiny eyes. He bites his lip and starts guiding your head—up-down, up-down—until he’s completely lost in his own pleasure using your throat like a pussy pocket.

Endless strings of “shit” and “fuck” leave his lips as he uses you to get off. A few times he’ll buck his hips up but the gagging noise you make has him settling back down. Your eyes are teary and spit dribbles from the sides of your lips and on to his thighs. The filthy noises your throat makes doesn’t help at all, in fact he’s more turned on by your gagging.

“There you go baby,” he huffs, “my own little cock sleeve, only I get to have you like this huh baby? No one else.” He growls low, “Makes me wanna lock you away some place no one will ever be able to find you in, you’re mine to look at,” he shoves your head down on his lap and holds you there, “mine to fuck,” he lets you come up for air, watching you gasp and take greedy gulps, “and mine to breed.” He darkly murmurs and pushes you back down.

You whine loudly, this shouldn’t be turning you on more than it’s supposed to. Logically this was your cue to get the fuck out of there but you couldn’t. You greedily listened and took in every single word he said and pictured it in your head. Maybe he was right, you were fucked in the head.

Jungkook licks his lips darkly, “Oh? You like that don’t you baby?” His cock twitches in interest, “You like hearing how much I wanna lock you up and keep you away like a doll?” He rolls his hips and you notice how the muscles in his abdomen flex and go taut, “Or how I’m gonna breed you and keep that little pussy full of me until you’re pregnant with our baby?” He whispers.

A long moan escapes your lips as you suck hard, Jungkook’s hands drop from your head as he lets you take control once more and bob your head. You slurp and swallow around him noisily while stroking his soft balls in your hands. You’re getting all worked up now but you’re determined to make him cum down your throat.

“Fuck baby,” he gasps, “gonna cum.” His moans rise in volume until his hand is coming down to hold you in place, face pressed tightly to his hips as he cums hard. Long moans leave him as spurt after spurt of cum shoots down your throat and fills your mouth. You do nothing but happily take it and swallow it.

“Lemme see,” he whispers, breath ragged and chest heaving as he watches you with half-lidded eyes. “Good girl.” He lazily smiles when he sees that you indeed swallowed every last drop of him.

You pant quietly and rub your sore throat, you must look like a mess with your glossy swollen lips and spit in the corners of your mouth. “Jungkook, I—” you were cut off by the sounds of someone entering the showers, heading into one of their own cubicles and starting up the water. You bite your lip and shake your head, you suppose this can wait for another time.

Another time..

You’re not the same after what happened in the gym, you might have been in a lust ridden haze but you weren’t insane to think that Jungkook was playing around when he had told you all of that stuff. On one hand you were terrified of him, but a darker part of you was scared he was right. What if you did want him to lock you away like he said he would, you were more terrified of the fact that you had enjoyed his little manic moment.

However as much as you had liked it there was no denying one thing, that he was the one who put those cameras in your home. You weren’t naive, you knew what kind of man you had dated and his obsession with you knew no bounds. He was very much capable of putting those things in your home, everything just screamed his doings.

You hadn’t let him come over to “help” you look for them, instead you spent the next few days looking for them yourself. You deep cleaned every nook and cranny in your place but nothing ended up coming out of it (well at least you had a clean house now). You needed to act fast, the more you waited the more he would spiral out of control. You thought a quick hook up was going to satiate his hunger for you? Wrong.

In the last three days you went back to having more sex than you could think of, and Jungkook was restless. He cornered you outside of your work and then you guys fucked in the private parking lot. He showed up after one of your late night convenience store runs and took you back to his place and fucked you (mind you, you were on very high alert the entire time). Just yesterday he had boldly pulled you to the side in a empty alley way before work and fucked the daylights out of you.

Nothing you said or did could get him to spill accidentally or imply that he was involved anyway with your hidden camera situation. You were desperate to get a reaction out of him, something—anything to get him to slip up. So, you did the next best thing that came up in your head.

You fucked Hoseok right there on your bed, letting him spread you wide and plow your tender little pussy for Jungkook to see.

Your lips part with breathy sighs and moans slipping out of your mouth. Hoseok wasn’t a bad lover by any means, this man knew how to angle his hips and move them at a pace that definitely made your mouth water in arousal. You had one hand tangled in his hair, holding him by the back of his neck with his face tucked away in your shoulder and neck. Hoseok didn’t seem to mind, in fact he was openly moaning into your naked shoulder with his lips dragging over the soft expanse of your skin.

“Seok—right there,” you grip him tighter and bite down on your bottom lip. You hook your chin over his shoulder and stare up at the ceiling in your pleasure filled haze, lips parting in a ‘o’ as no sounds seem to leave you.

Hoseok hugs you closer to his hot body and begins moving with purpose, growling low and muttering curses in your ear. His cock strikes deep and brushes against your g-spot ever so slightly, just teetering on the edge of hitting it. Your eyes slip shut a lewd “mm” leaves you as your nails dig into his back. Hoseok turns his head and captures your lips in his, moaning deep into the kiss while grinding his hips in slow circles.

The filthy noise your pussy makes when he does so has your mouth watering from the sound. You feel more dollops of slick slide down your perineum and between your cheeks on to the bed below. Hoseok sneaks a hand below and rubs his thumb over your throbbing bud, circling the tender button and pressing down to apply pressure.

“Seok..!” You gasp and throw your head back on your pillow.

Through your blurry gaze you come across the same little red dot from before, the one you swore was the source of your undoing. You stare at it for a few seconds until you finally catch it in its blinking moments. You hide your tiny smirk by turning to bury your face in Hoseok’s neck, now you know where at least one of them was.. Won’t be long until you find the next, and the next.

You hummed a random tune under your breath while going over the mental list you made in your head on what you needed to buy for the week’s groceries. You’re feeling refreshed and happily fucked out from the night before, you swear you wouldn’t be opposed to another night like that if it ever came down to Hoseok asking you on another date.

You’re smiling to yourself when a rough hand reaches out and yanks you into the alleyway opening, you jump in terror and whip your head up to see who the deranged lunatic is. It’s just Jungkook (thankfully). “What was that for?” You shake your head and give him an exasperated look.

Jungkook looks pissed, like never before and you’re not entirely too sure whether to be scared or turned on by it. “So this is what we’re doing now huh? You finally tired of me after having your fun and leading me on like a dog in the streets?” He says in unbridled rage while looking down at you with a piercing gaze.

You squirm in his hold and try to unlatch his hand but he merely presses you into the wall more firmly and holds you there with flared nostrils. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, now let me go!” You glare, you’ve finally had it with him just tossing you around like a doll and moving you to his liking, “I said let go Jungkook!” You push him roughly and watch as he stumbles back, hitting the wall across from you as he breathes heavy in anger.

“So you’re not going to tell me about that fucker you took into your apartment last night? Hoseok was it? You let that…motherfucker put his hands all over you?” He growls in anger.

There it was, all your suspicions turned true as you stared back at him with wide eyes. How he could have known was obviously only one way, “How did you find out about that?” You softly ask.

“I saw you take him in there.” He stands with his fists clenched tightly. Oh how you should’ve known what a smooth little liar he was.

You had seen this coming in hindsight, he may have the upperhand but you were always a tad bit quicker and smarter than he was. You had made sure to use the private parking underground entrance when you and Hoseok had both gone to your place together, so there was no way of Jungkook knowing at all—well through his hidden camera of course.

“You’re lying.” You softly reply and look down at your phone with a bitter smile, “You don’t fool me Jungkook, you haven’t since the beginning.” The accusation sits on the tip of your tongue as your finger slips and accidentally presses on the call button over Seulgi’s contact. Your phone starts dialing her number and before you can hang up the call you hear it..

A faint buzzing sound in Jungkook’s pocket, growing more and more deafening to your ears as you both stand in a face-off waiting for either of you to say something. Jungkook tries to poorly mask his surprise but it’s too late—you know.

“I have to go now,” you take a step back slowly, “I just remembered a last minute phone call I have to make.” You keep a close eye on his movements while backing out of the alleyway slowly and then turning hot on your heels, you need to get the fuck out of there.

. . .

Jungkook brings the phone out and shuts it off, “Fuck..” He mutters as he paces back and forth while running a hand through his messy hair. You know. Everything he has done up until now has gone to shit, he has to speed things up, yes, there’s no telling what you’ll do now that you know everything.

“It didn’t have to be this way baby..” He slides his hands into his pockets while walking out of the alley, “If only you would come back,” he chuckles bitterly, “now look what you made me do..” He tosses Seulgi’s phone into the nearby trash.

Jungkook starts singing “do I wanna know” under his breath.

You push through the crowds of people on the sidewalk, rushing through the masses with millions of thoughts running through your head. You’re not even sure what the hell you want to do now, you contemplated going to the police but you didn’t have enough evidence to properly accuse Jungkook. If you went in there now they’d just brush it off as another crazy ex story.

Just the thought of him hurting Seulgi made your heart ache in pain as silent tears streamed down your face. Seulgi didn’t deserve this, none of it, it was your fault for having such a crazy ex boyfriend who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Now look where that got you, look where that got her..

“Fuck!” You sob out while pushing your hair out of your face and throwing your phone in pure desperation and frustration. You pace back and forth in your living room with tons of ideas but zero solutions. What were you going to do now? Jungkook was out of his fucking mind and now you were losing yours too.

You knew you had to draw him in somehow, without him growing suspicious of you and your motives. Jungkook wasn’t stupid and you couldn’t try to treat him as such because then he’d for sure lash out and your plans would be ruined. You need to lure him in, if you could somehow get him into your apartment and use it as proof that he broke in then you could go from there.

You take a seat at the dining table with your face buried in your hands, knee bouncing nervously as you take deep breaths. You know what you have to do, you’re just scared. Not of him, but of yourself. A deeper part of you wants him back, and that’s what terrifies you the most. You might not make it out of this, sane you mean.

When night falls you lay there on your bed staring up at the white ceiling with your hands over your tummy. You’re nervous, paranoia rampant in your body as you attempt to calm your nerves. You had thought about it the entire time you made dinner, the food ended up being half eaten since you were too nervous to eat properly. As you laid there only one thing was on your mind: the cameras.

During dinner you had come to the realization that you hadn’t taken the cameras out yet, and that’s when the ingenious plan came to your head. You knew he was watching—probably was right now as a matter of fact—you were going to use just that alone to get him here. How? The only way you knew how.

After lighting up your candles to ease your nerves, you dimmed the lights in your room to a low fuschia pink color. You had showered and picked the prettiest silk nightdress you owned, laying in plain view for his pleasure. With a hitched breath as you slowly bend your knees with your feet planted on the plush comforter. Your legs slowly part as you bring the dress around your hips, you hadn’t bothered with wearing any panties—your cunt laid bare in the open with slick sticking between your soft folds.

You brought your fingers down, swiping through the mess as you moan quietly when creamy slick stuck to your digits. You coated them thoroughly before bringing your fingers up to taste yourself, a low quiet whine leaving you as memories of Jungkook doing the same to you came flashing in your head. You began to imagine it was him feeding you your own slick, long rough fingers shoved down your throat as he whispered obscenities in your ear.

“Good girl,” he’d say.

Your eyes flutter shut as your other hand comes up to cup your tit gently squeezing the mound through your dress. “Suck it baby,” he’d whisper in your ear, “get my fingers nice and wet, there you go–atta girl,” another broken moan escapes as you pinch your hard nipple through the flimsy material.

“Gonna fuck you nice and slow, you’d like that baby wouldn’t you?”

You whisper a breathy ‘yes’ as you move your slick fingers down to your pussy, “Want it so bad,” you moan, “want you so bad Jungkookie,” you mewl out while rubbing the pads of your fingers against your swollen clit. “Want you just as bad as you want me,” you’re not so sure you’re lying there, “need you to take me—make me yours, wanna be yours.” Your back arches as you dip your ring finger into your greedy little puckered up hole.

“Open up for me sweetheart, gonna be a good girl for me?”

“Gonna be the best girl for you,” your head thrashes from side to side as you teasingly fuck your finger in and out of your soaked pussy, “only you baby,” you keen, “no one else, not even Hoseok.” You gasp out as your thighs shake, “Want you to come take me baby, keep me and breed me.” Your lips part in a silent ‘o’ as you fit another finger into your cunt.

Your chest heaves as you angle your fingers upwards to hit your g-spot, your cunt squelches and drips with your frenzied movements. The noises you’re making combined with the wet noises below become white noise, your heart is pounding in your chest and sweat builds on your brow. “Fuck,” you sob out in pleasure while moving your free hand and resting it around your slender neck.

The pleasure heightens as you begin to imagine it’s Jungkook looming over you, hand around your neck and his fingers buried knuckle deep in your sopping pussy. Your toes curl and you find yourself teetering on the edge of your orgasm, it’s right there—just a little more. You pick up the pace until you’re slamming your fingers in and out of your poor cunt, striking your g-spot head on over and over again.

“Go on and cum for me baby, be a good girl and squirt for me, I know you can. There you go sweetheart, get ‘em nice and wet for me,”

A loud sob escapes your lips as you’re locked in place, your pussy quivers and throbs slowly as jets of slick spills from you. You cum harder than ever, vision going white as your pussy throbs and goosebumps form all over your body. You physically have to close your eyes from how strong your orgasm was.

“Jungkook..” You whimper softly and let your fingers slip out of your soaked pussy. You curl up into a tiny ball on your side, panting softly as your eyes droop sleepily. You’re vaguely aware of your surroundings—the candles, the mess on your bed, the slick between your thighs.

You just want to sleep now. With a tired moan you sit up in disarray, looking around your room with dazed eyes. It was now a waiting game on whether Jungkook wanted to show or not, you just hoped you didn’t lose yourself in the process..

. . .

You wake up around midnight delirious and half asleep. After cleaning your room you had settled in for the night and went to bed dreaming of nothing in particular. If anything you were having one of the best nights of sleep before you were woken up by something or rather someone. You sit up half awake while rubbing your eyes to clear the blur from your vision.

Your apartment is deathly quiet, you sit there trying to decipher any noise but nothing comes. A beat goes by and nothing happens. You slump over with a tired sigh, “This is nonsense.” You mutter and get out of bed, you figure a glass of water will do you good and send you right back into your peaceful slumber.

You slip out of your room quietly when you hear it. The front door keypad beeps loudly as someone—or rather Jungkook—punches in the code to your apartment. You freeze mid-way down the hall, staring through the corner of the wall as the door is pushed open and Jungkook’s dark figure steps in. Everything shifts from zero to hundred real quick, you cover your mouth and run quietly down the hall to the guest bathroom, slipping in quietly and standing with your back to the door.

“Shit, shit,” you whisper, you didn’t have your phone and Jungkook was definitely going to stop in your room first before anything. You crack the door open and flinch when you hear Jungkook treading down to your room, pushing your door open slowly as he slips in quietly. You watch with a bated breath, flinching once more when you hear him laugh from inside your room.

“Oh baby is this what we’re going to do now?” He says as he re-emerges with your phone in his hand, “You wanna play a little game of hide and seek is that it?” He coos while whistling as he luckily heads back out in the opposite direction, “Okay baby, we can play your little game if you want.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before stepping out quietly, you run back into your room and grab one of your pens from your desk, “Come out, come out wherever you are,” he loudly calls out from the living room. You drop a few pens and hiss as you whip your head up to make sure he isn’t coming.

“Oh baby you must be sick in the head,” he whistles, “making me chase you like a big bad wolf.” He tuts you, “Why don’t you just come out? Just wanna talk.”

You take the opportunity to peek out of your room and throw the ballpoint pen down the hall nearby your guest bedroom door. It hits the marble floor with a loud thud, the noise deafening in your ear as you sit still and wait for him to reply. Jungkook pauses and then you hear his heavy footsteps as he passes by your room and down the hall, “Knock, knock you in here?”

You peek out and make sure he enters the guest room before you slip out and run down the hall, slipping into the open kitchen as you duck behind the marble counters.

“We didn’t have to do this the hard way sweetheart, we both know you want this—us. I saw the little show you put on for me, you looked so fucking good moaning my name like that,” Jungkook says while going into each room one by one, “Bet you wished it was my fingers in your little cunt.”

You peer over the counter, immediately ducking when you see him step back out from the hallway, “Oh the things I wanna do to you,” he whistles, “if you come out now baby all is forgiven and I can show you just how much I loved your little show baby. Don’t you want that? I’ll get on my knees and eat that little pussy out like you deserve.” He says as he steps down to the living room area.

He’s so close, your heart is hammering in your chest right now as you crawl away from the counters and to the hallway again, “I’ll treat you so good, I’ll have you dripping in no time. After I eat your cunt baby I’ll fuck you with my cock just the way you like it. Going to have you stuffed full of my cum like I promised darling.” He’s in the dining room area now.

“So just come out baby,” he says softly, “I’m begging.”

You hear him open the door to your study and you waste no time in quickly standing and making a break for it to the front door. However as you step out from behind the wall Jungkook steps in front of you with a wicked smile, “I got you,” He immediately brings you into his arms and covers your nose/mouth with a white rag.

You scream in terror and begin pounding your fists against his arms, pushing back and trying to buck his hand off your face. Jungkook hushes you gently as he kisses your ear, “It’s okay baby, just let go for me. I got you, everything’s alright.” He purrs gently in your ear while pressing the rag tighter against your face.

Your lungs burn from the lack of air, you hysterically sob and huff through your nose while the fight slowly drains from you. You’re dizzy from lack of oxygen and inhaling the strong ass chemicals. Not once does Jungkook stop comforting you while he holds your limp body. “There you go,” he coos softly, “just close your eyes..”

Your vision begins to fade in and out as you sway, you didn’t notice when his grip on you slowly eased up. The rag was no longer covering your face but the chloroform was doing its job. It made a strong wave of dizziness hit you all at once as you felt yourself fall forward. Jungkook didn’t let you hit the ground, however the last thing you heard was his soft whispering.

“What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way. What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you,” he softly sang.

Your eyes flutter open when a stray beam of sunlight hits you across the face from where you’re lying down. The first thing you notice is the windy breeze coming in through the opened window, the white curtains flowy as they move with the wind. You blink through the confusion and slowly turn your head to examine the rest of the room.

Black bars. You inch forward slowly and grab the black metal, looking up to see the same thing above you. Cage. Your breathing picks up as you begin pulling at the metal, growing more desperate by the second as you shake the cage with such force. “No, no, no,” the tears begin to flow before you can even stop them.

A strong wave of nausea and pain wafts over your tired body, you rub at your head to soothe the headache while rattling the cage handle violently. “Somebody help me..! Please, if you’re there please help me!” You sob out while falling limp, forehead pressed to the metal bars in defeat.

A few minutes of your soft sobs filling the room pass by, you perk up when the door creaks open, “Help me please,” you softly whimper while rolling your head lazily to look at this person. Your vision blurs and you blink a couple of times until Jungkook’s standing tall and clear in your peripheral.

“Might have gone a bit too overboard with the chloroform baby,” Jungkook’s face twists in worry as he squats down to your level in front of the cage, “hey, hey shh, it’s okay baby I’m here.” He reaches out to wipe your tears with his thumb.

You flinch violently and yank yourself back so fast it gives you whiplash, “Don’t fucking touch me,” you spit, “what the hell is the meaning of all this?! Tell me right now Jungkook.” You glare tiredly while curling into your side away from his reach.

Jungkook ignores you and instead pushes a glass of water and some food under the cage opening, “I bet you’re hungry, here it’s been a cool minute actually..was kinda worried you’d never wake up.” He chuckles under his breath, “Go on baby, I made your favorite.” He says as he beckons you closer.

“Jungkook,” you softly whisper, “where am I? What did you do to Seulgi—!” You yelp when the cage rattles as he slams his hand against it violently. His friendly demeanor instantly disappears once Seulgi’s name leaves your mouth.

“I’ve never liked that meddling bitch,” he growls, “she’s the reason this entire thing began and ended the way it did! Seulgi didn’t know how to keep her fuckin’ mouth shut and her head out of our business and look what happened!” He shakes his head, “But if you really must know I already let her go so you can stop asking about her. She was useful for one thing at least...won’t be worrying anytime soon about her running her mouth I bet.” He mutters more to himself.

You let out a breath of relief while sagging, “…I won’t forgive you for this Jungkook,” you softly say, “not this time. I gave you so many chances in the past but you never took me seriously and now look at you. You stooped this low because you couldn’t take no for an answer. When will you understand that I do not want to be with you, EVER.”

“You see that’s where the lying comes in,” Jungkook bitterly smiles, “I know you don’t mean that shit because you had so many chances to run to the police or better yet just ignore me and did you? No, so don’t come to me with that shit that you don’t want me because deep down I know it fucking kills you to say that you do miss me and want us.”

You stay quiet and stare back at him, of course he was right. You’re an enabler, you had so many chances to report him for stalking and harassment but did you? Maybe it was you wanting his attention but in the end you had no one to blame but yourself for indulging him and leading him on.

“When you decide to stop lying to yourself we’ll talk,” Jungkook calmly says while getting up, “drink your water and eat your food, you’ve been out for a day and a half.” He says and leaves you to your devices.

You sit there with a blank expression on your face, and the food continues to sit out all night—untouched.

. . .

Jungkook doesn’t keep you in the cage for too long, in fact he lets you out the next day and shows you around the house. It’s a two story in the middle of the woods—far from the city you presume—Jungkook doesn’t let you wander past the glass doors leading to the outside, he keeps it locked with a keypad like the front door. You can only wander around the house and lay all day as the time flies by.

It’s close to a month when you finally ask him what the date is. “Oh.” You look down at your bowl of oats and stare at it like it’s so much more interesting, “So close to a month?” You mumble more to yourself.

Jungkook hums, “Baby the fruit,” he motions to the plates of fruit he cut up for your acai bowl you wanted to make, “flies are going to get all over the food and it won’t be any good anymore.” He says as he pushes a plate of bananas towards you.

“Thanks.” You smile flatly, “Pass me the strawberries too please.” You don’t know why you’re being civil with him, in fact you kind of don’t know why you just don’t feel anything towards him—no anger, no malice, no nothing. You just kind of go back to how things were when you both were together.

Jungkook holds the plate out for you, his knuckles brush against your hand and a pleasant little shiver runs down your spine. Another thing you’ve been having issues with, you were so fucking touch-starved it was like you were itching for him to touch you. Any form of touch you greedily ate it up, however your pride stopped you from seeking him out. You refused to let him know how much he affected you.

“Thanks.” You softly say while tucking your head and distracting yourself with your acai bowl.

Jungkook smiles lovingly, “You’re welcome baby.” He gently kicks your foot with his, reminding you of your stark size difference, how his long legs easily reached yours. You bit your lip harshly, tasting the metallic tang of blood. You just hope you can hold out for longer.

These days you spend lounging around has definitely given you time to think about things. Maybe you’re fucked in the head too but you knew who exactly Jungkook was. You knew the type of person he was then and you most definitely knew now. From the very beginning you were very self-aware of his tendencies and unhealthy obsession. It was something you kept more to yourself.

When people asked if you noticed how strange he was acting you simply turned the shoulder and played the innocent card. Of course you knew, and you fucking loved it. The only REAL reason why you left was because Jungkook wasn’t listening to you and things were starting to look bad on the both of you, people were talking and you didn’t enjoy looking like the fool whenever people asked if Jungkook was planning on actually staying for his therapy sessions.

You had a thing for wanting all the bad things you shouldn’t want.

And it was too late, you had already fallen in too deep to get out.

“What you cookin?” Jungkook lazily asks as he bends low to hide his face in your shoulder, his arms wrap around your middle as he pulls you back until your back hits his chest.

“Was craving ramen.” You softly reply, the question you had already sitting on the tip of your tongue. Jungkook notices your hesitance but doesn’t comment on it, he only turns his face to kiss the side of your neck with a lazy hum. “I was wondering..” You quietly start, “Do you still..smoke?”

Jungkook pauses, “Yeah why?”

You sigh softly as he begins sucking on your neck, “Wanted to see if you could bring some pre-rolls or something. I don’t know why but my nerves have been all over the place lately and I can’t relax.” You lean your head back on his shoulder with a noncommittal hum.

Jungkook chuckles quietly, “Don’t worry baby, I have some bud stashed away. We can smoke some together right now if you want to?” He sways side to side with you, “How does that sound, hm?” He drops his head on your shoulder once more.

You nod, “Perfect.”

Jungkook has the blunt ready when you both finish eating. He lights it and hands it over to you, “Smoke as much as you want, I’ll roll another one if you finish that one.” He says as he lays back on the couch lazily while scrolling through the selection of movies and shows. You dive right in without hesitation and relax on the couch as you fill the air between you two with clouds of white.

You both pass the blunt back and forth until there’s no more of it left and you’re both staring at the TV with half-lidded eyes. Jungkook has his hands crossed behind his head as he watches whatever tv show he put on. “C’mere baby,” he smacks his lips, “wanna hold you.”

You obey easily, slipping into his lap as you lie down on top of him with your head over his heart. You listen to his heartbeat with a soft sigh, “Do we have cookie dough, wanna make some cookies.” You murmur softly while closing your eyes.

Jungkook grunts, “I think.” He replies, “Maybe, check.” He rubs your back and drops his hand down to your ass, resting it there for comfort as he squeezes your cheek through your velvet shorts.

“I will.. Give me a second.” You reply, Jungkook hums in response and everything goes quiet after that. Soon his little butt pats stop and Jungkook lays there peacefully sleeping under you. Your tired eyes drift over to him and then the front door, you close your eyes and hold your breath. It was now or never. Weed wasn’t nearly enough to make someone completely knock out for sure but you think back to the small pill bottle sitting innocently in the cupboard.

. . .

Jungkook sleepily smacks his lips as his eyelids flutter open, his vision is blurry and it takes a few minutes of blinking for him to adjust to the bright lights. He hears cupboards being slammed, drawers opened and then shut. He makes a noise of confusion and looks over with a confused look, “Baby?” He rasps out.

Your head whips over to him, “You’re awake.” You walk over calmly and hold a glass of water, “Drink.” You hold the cup up to his lips, “You’re gonna need your voice right now.”

“Huh? What for?” He notices his hands are tied behind his back on the chair, he looks down to see ropes tied around his legs as well. He looks back at you with realization coming over his face, “Baby?”

You force the cup into his mouth and make him drink the water, some of it spills out the sides of his mouth as he sputters and coughs. “Now, tell me what the code for the front door is Jungkook.” You stand in front of him with a stony expression.

Jungkook quietly chuckles, “And why exactly would I do that for hm? You think it’s that simple baby, how cute. Now untie me and all is forgotten,” he leans his head back with a long sigh, “C’mon, don’t you wanna go back to cuddling and watching that movie sweetheart? Promise I’ll even make it nice and warm for you.” He smirks devilishly.

You let out a breath of desperation and irritation, “I’m not playing around right now Jungkook. Either you give it to me now or I break through the windows and leave you here tied up.”

Jungkook looks at you with a dopey grin, “Go ahead, the nearest bus stop from here is three hours away. Won’t take long before I find you and bring you home with me baby.” He licks his lips and eyes you up and down, “Though I must say, you’re really doing wonders to me with those little shorts baby.” He purrs.

You close your eyes and count to five, “Fuck you Jungkook.” You whisper out while pacing back and forth in front of him.

“I’m righttttt here, all you gotta do is pull my cock out—” His face whips to the side as you slap him in pure anger, “and sit right on it.” He finishes with a smirk as he looks at you calmly, “Better yet, untie me, it’s the pent up stress right? I’ll give it to you so good if you just untie me baby. We can take it to the bed and have a nice night you and I,” he licks his lips.

You grab the sides of your head as you scream out in frustration, “You make my life a living hell! It’s all your fucking fault I’m like this, I couldn’t sleep for months after I left you and then you appearing out of the blue wasn’t helping me! I would have been one hundred percent better off without you coming into my life at all, you ruined me! I tried Jungkook,” you whisper, “I really did but none of them were you. No one compared, not even Hoseok. They couldn’t give me what I wanted and it’s all your fault,” you grit your teeth and stomp over to straddle him, roughly cupping his face, “so take responsibility.” You hiss.

Jungkook licks his lips as his eyes drop down to your lips and then you, “So take it,” he whispers, “take what you want.”

You stare at him for a few minutes before smashing your lips against his in a rough teeth-clashing kiss. Jungkook moans and leans into the kiss, chasing after your lips as you both roughly move against each other. He hisses when you bite down on his lower lip and tug gently. “Baby—”

“Shut the fuck up.” You glare while reaching below to push his sweats down his thighs and around his knees, “You don’t get to baby me,” you briefly stand to shove your shorts down, “not after all the hell you put me through these months. You have any idea how much I wanted you?” You climb back on to his lap once your panties come off, “No—you don’t.”

Jungkook’s mouth gapes open as he watches you lick your fingers and bring them down between your soft thighs, “So no, you’re not going to take this from me. You’re going to sit there and watch me fuck myself,” he moans loudly when the words leave your lips, “and you’re not going to touch me until I say so. If you try to rush or beg me I’m going to gag you, understood?”

“Yes baby.” He whispers back.

You circle your clit slowly with the tip of your finger to ease some tension you had. Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to watch you as you work your fingers over your clit slowly. You bite your lip to suppress your moan, thighs spreading a tiny bit more around his hips to give him more access.

“I thought about you a lot, you know?” You softly sigh while rolling your hips slowly, “Can’t tell you how many times I fucked myself thinking about you..” You cut off with a loud moan as you pop a finger inside your sopping little cunt.

Jungkook bites down on his lip as he looks up to watch your face closely, “I even imagined it was you whenever I fucked someone else.” You whisper darkly in his ear while pumping your finger in and out, “Hoseok could never, didn’t even compare to your cock.” You bite his earlobe teasingly while reaching down to wrap around his cock with your free hand.

“Fuck baby,” he whines, “let me out, c’mon, I’ll fuck you so good.” He pleads softly.

You squeeze your hand around his throbbing shaft, “What did I say?” You whisper, relishing in his pained moan, “If you’re good for me I’ll let you fuck me..all, night, long.” You peck his cheek. It’s enough for Jungkook to quieten down as he pants softly. You grin in satisfaction and pop your finger out, “Open.” You press against his lips.

Jungkook easily opens his mouth and you slip your finger in, he greedily sucks and swirls his tongue around the wet digit before letting go with a low pop after he cleans your slick off. You giggle quietly and run your thumb over the head of his cock, “Missed your cock baby,” you softly smirk, “missed how well it fills me up, how fat and big it is…just right for me.” You aim the weeping head over your folds, rubbing him back and forth as you smear your slick around.

Jungkook throws his head back, “Yeah?” He breathes out, “Why don’t you slip it in baby? Fuck yourself on my cock, nice and slow.”

You let the tip catch on your hole, prodding at you stubbornly as he threatens to slip inside. “Do me a favor baby..” You whisper, watching his eyes brighten as he perks up, “Shut the fuck up.” You bring him in for a kiss, effectively shutting him up while you press his cock into you.

Your hips raise and slowly inch downwards as you slip his fat cock inside, you moan against his lips as his cock slowly slides inch for inch. You let his cock go and wrap your arms around his neck, holding on for dear life as you slowly come to a halt once you sit down on his lap bottomed out. Jungkook groans low through his teeth, eyes squeezed shut as he shakes from being held back by the ropes.

“Fuck,” you sigh in pleasure while circling your hips, “so good..” You bounce on his cock lightly, the fat of your ass jiggling as you move up and down, side to side. Jungkook’s face twists in pleasure as he leans his head back. You lick your lips and watch him with close eyes, “You like that Jungkookie? Love how tight I feel around you baby?”

“God yes,” Jungkook whispers as he shudders, “love having your little pussy wrapped around my cock. Wanna stay like this forever.” He groans out, “C’mon baby, untie me and I’ll fuck you just the way you deserve. Gonna have you screaming and crying all over my cock.”

You mewl loudly and bounce faster on his lap, the very thought of him fucking you like he’s promsing is tempting you to untie him. But just as quickly as the temptation came, it goes. You end up slamming your hips down until your ass slaps against his thighs loudly, his cock slams deep and hits your g-spot. “Mmm..!” You throw your head back.

Jungkook hisses in pleasure as he mindlessly begs for you to let him go, he alternates between loud moans and slurred words. Your thighs begin to ache rather quickly and your pace begins slowing down. You switch from bouncing to grinding, rocking your hips quickly and in ways that have him gasping for more.

The poor chair begins creaking under the weight of you both, loud squelches fill the room as slick dribbles down your pussy and his cock to his balls. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as you stop to press down and work your hips in circles of eights. “Oh fuckkk..” You whisper out as your thighs tremble, “Jungkook..!” You squeal as your orgasm takes you by surprise.

Jungkook in that moment manages to untie the knots around his wrists, he pulls you closer on his lap while biting down on your shoulder, “Untie my feet, right now.” He growls, “I played your little game now it’s my turn.”

You mewl shakily and reach down to pull both knots free, he wastes no time in lifting you up as he carries you to the table, bending you over the surface. You gasp in surprise when his hand swoops down to smack you hard across your ass. “Stay still.” He growls as he lines his cock up with your pussy and shoves it in one go.

Your mouth falls open as he begins plowing your pussy like no tomorrow. Jungkook grips your hips tight while smacking his hips into your ass, watching as your cheeks collide with his pelvis. He grunts with effort and reaches down to bring the hem of his shirt up to his mouth, biting it as he holds it up to watch the way his cock disappears into your drenched pussy.

“Jungkook..!” You cry out, “P-Please, ‘s too much,” you drool while gripping the edge of the table.

The table screeches loudly as it shakes from the force of his thrusts. Jungkook reaches around to pinch and rub at your sensitive clit, ignoring your squeals and pained moans. His balls slap against your folds with wet pap sounds, you can tell by the way his pace is stuttering that he’s close to coming too. You purposely clench around him, relishing in the muffled moan he lets out.

He grabs at your hip bones painfully, digging his fingernails in as his hips stutter in their movements. He slams in once, twice, and finally a third until he goes still. His cock throbs and twitches violently as his cum fills you spurt after spurt. He releases a long moan, idly grinding in to milk his cock/orgasm.

“Fuck..” You whisper breathlessly while laying on the table with your cheek against the wood, your eyes glazed over.

Beats of silence pass by until Jungkook’s leaning over to whisper in your ear, “You’re mine baby.” He says while kissing your ear and neck.

You hum quietly and lean into his touch, “I love you.” You softly whisper, no longer against the idea of loving and wanting to be with him. Jungkook hums back, he sounds pleased with your answer as he smooths his hands over your hips. You close your eyes tiredly and lick your dry lips, hearing him utter back to you.

“I love you too baby.”

You drowned out the sounds of the people laughing and cheering in the background. You looked around the brightened room with a smile on your red painted lips, greeting some of the on-goers as they passed by you. Tonight was somewhat of a special night for you—your birthday. All your friends and family surrounded and showered you with endless gifts and praises.

However none were Jungkook.

He was pressed up against your back just laughing and talking with friends, catching up if you will. “Me and y/n decided to work things out you know? We took a last minute trip out of town and rented out a cabin to get away from everything you know?” He said.

You merely smile when they turn to look at you, “We decided to get back together.”

Everyone cheered and congratulated you both, however one person in particular stood back from the others. Seulgi. She hadn't been the same since Jungkook let her go, you can see just how much it affected her seeing him. Although Jungkook swore to you he didn’t harm her physically, the damage was already done mentally.

Seulgi stood far back from the others, eyeing you and Jungkook with both distaste and fear in her eyes. She hadn’t made a move to come talk to you at all, but you didn’t care. If anything you continued on like nothing was happening, like there wasn’t any animosity between you, her, and Jungkook. She knew better.

Jungkook smugly turns to look at Seulgi, raising his glass of wine at her as a toast before taking a sip. He curls his hand right over your tummy, where the tiniest of bumps hides underneath your dress. Seulgi can only turn away, if only they knew just how far Jeon Jungkook was willing to go in the name of love.

If only they knew the secrets you chose to keep..

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#bts #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #bts jungkook

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yuragiku · 6 days

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mine to miss | jung sungchan, song eunseok

pairing: jung sungchan x fem!reader x song eunseok

plot: you were done with love. you said goodbye to your best friend at his behest, and now, you were a lost soul in a bustling city. your mantra was to divert, avoid, and ignore—and it would've worked well until the end of the year had a spunky, friendly, and absolutely loud-mouthed soccer player barged into your lone seat at a restaurant.

"psst, i need you to pretend you're my date. i don't have any money right now, but i'll pay for all your lunches here from next week onward."

alternatively, the one where the campus hotshot tries his best to make you forget about your best friend back home.

wc: 44.1k

genre: melodrama, coming of age, slow burn, e2l kinda

warnings: R18+ DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE A MINOR OR IF YOU THINK YOU'RE NOT IN THE RIGHT MENTAL HEADSPACE TO READ ABOUT THE FOLLOWING; heavy depictions and mentions of depression, anxiety, and mental illness; heavy discussions of death and s*uicide; heavy depictions of substance abuse (alcohol and party drugs); graphic depictions of anxiety attacks; heavy depictions of rehab and therapy; EXPLICIT SMUT (UNPROTECTED SEX WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT, public sex, nipple play, oral m receiving), heavy discussions of sex; existential dread; hospital imagery; graphic depictions of mild violence; mentions of food and water; a lot of tension really; political discussions of 80s korea

extra notes: THIS IS PART TWO OF never meant. I REPEAT. PART TWO! PLEASE READ THAT ONE FIRST. heavily inspired by norwegian wood (haruki murakami), and american football's lp2. as always, NEVER SKIP THE WARNINGS PLEASE !! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME AND CAN BACK OUT AT ANY TIME !! she cooked but i don't know if she delivered. anywho, thank you so much for reading mine to miss, and as always, i don't know when my next story will come out but she'll come out when she has to !! most likely a PART THREE because this has gotten a lot longer than i would've linked :////

During the summer holidays, the riot police were everywhere, seizing all buildings and quickly arresting students and professors in quick succession. This was nothing new. Places for the intelligentsia to prosper always had its fair share of dissidents, and they were the most difficult to dismantle in terms of rebellion groups owing to the amount of funding universities get from the government. Even if Yonsei had been known to be a liberal school, there was always the other half of the staunch conservative faculty who may or may not have served in the electoral college. Around the start of September, the dawn of a new semester, this normalcy had died down. There were no more police everywhere you went in Seoul; you didn’t need to go to the office to bookkeep for the New Korean Democratic Party, and work at the campus library became your main priority. To your surprise, everything in the library was untouched. Each book was still confined in its respective shelf, the reception desk was unscathed and pristine, albeit dusty from a lack of use, and nothing on campus was burned.

Of course, violence didn’t equate to a passionate, successful demonstration, but you were a little confused at the cleanliness of the university past the June struggles. Books were usually a target during riots, often burned in a bonfire by dissidents who disagreed with authoritarianism. Still, when you walked around the politics section of the library, you found everything in place, as if nobody had entered the library at all since the demonstrations began.

Upon announcing the June 29 declaration, things returned to normal in a snap of a finger. The same people who were the most vocal during the protests sat at the very front of the lecture hall, seen as martyrs or assholes, depending on who you ask. As if nothing had ever happened, they took their notes in silence, never bringing up the core reason for resistance to a professor who openly admitted his support for the Korean Army’s coup in 1961. The sheer hypocrisy of it all left you awestruck, to say the least. It’s not to say you were avidly passionate when participating in the riots, but consistency was the least you expected from the forerunners of the student demonstrations. Even if things had arguably ended and all their demands were met, a military officer was still elected. Shouldn’t they be mad? What was the entire point of calling for a democratic constitutional amendment and fair elections when a complicit military officer, who was a part of the elite that wanted all of South Korea under a dictatorship, won the elections supposedly “fair and square”? When you dared to ask some of the protest leaders, whom you also worked with at the New Korean Democratic Party office and frequently saw in secret Marxist lectures, why they were doing anything about the election of Roh Tae-woo, they shrugged.

“There’s no foul play as far as we know,” One of them said. “We can’t really scream about paper tigers.”

What a joke! At that point, they should’ve just told you they were afraid to lose participation marks! To think that they were the same idiots who passionately beat police officers up, closed down the campus, and led a sit-in hunger strike for a week!

For a while, you faithfully attended lectures, staying quiet when the professor would ask for your name in attendance. Participation marks meant nothing to you anymore, and to a certain extent, university education started to make less sense. You concluded that people only really went to university when their parents could afford it or when it benefitted them. Nobody went to school to pursue knowledge anymore, and it wasn’t like you had the passion or the drive to pioneer a new school of thought. There was nothing you wanted to accomplish in society that required you to drop out of university, so you had no choice but to attend lectures every day, take notes, read when you could, and spend your free time in the library before and after your shift there. Nonchalance made you an extremely diligent student.

You kept Eunseok’s room clean in his absence. When you had the chance, you asked the landlord to remove his name from the mailbox and the apartment door, telling him that Eunseok was never coming back. You returned from your shifts at the library and your lectures to clear Eunseok’s belongings bit by bit, repackaging them in neat, large boxes that you dragged to your apartment. You began reading through his books despite having a distaste for fiction, spending each morning with a different novel in hand alongside your regular routine of coffee. With the help of the janitor, you moved Eunseok’s prized bookshelf to your apartment, arranging your furniture like Eunseok did when he was still living next to you. Even if you missed him dearly, the only way to keep him in your heart is through the homage of his book collection. You didn’t know why he left it in Seoul when he would most likely need it for his treatment at the mountainous sanitorium, but you digress. Things unfolded the way they did, and now, you were alone again.

Directly after your shift, the sun began to set, adding a warm vibrance to the fallen Zelkova leaves trailing along the pavement. You decided to eat dinner outside instead of opting for your usual meal plans after Mirae had told you about an excellent Western place that served delicious seafood pasta and salad for a cheap deal. The restaurant was a little challenging because it was strewn across many intersections and alleyways, but the quiet, faint location made you sure you could relax once you got inside.

Once the waitress took your order, a group of four students came in, taking one of the bigger tables with velvet armchairs on the edge of the restaurant. Two men and two women in their young twenties, all stylish and had an air of money to them. By the time you finished your appetizer, the group was still arguing over what they wanted, only for one to call the waitress to relay the same lunch deal for everybody.

Your pasta had arrived, and in between picking up a copy of Heidegger’s Being and Time while slowly twirling pasta on your fork, you noticed that one of the men kept glancing in your direction. Apart from the curvature of his doe, deer-like eyes, he had a sloppily cut mullet that suited his face—the kind that looked good no matter what he wore or how he presented himself. Despite the weather, he wore a white fleece Addidas pullover and baggy jeans. You had no idea who he was, so you went on with your lunch, twirling the pasta on your fork in the same rhythm and timing as your progress on Heidegger. Before you knew it, you placed your book down, twirled another small serving of pasta on your fork, and had the mysterious man sitting in front of you, neck leaning closer and closer until you could see the hazel shine of his big doe eyes.

“Hey! It’s been a while,” He said with an exaggerated jubilee. You took your copy of Heidegger, playing with the book’s binding while examining his features up close. Even then, you couldn’t remember seeing him at all. If you had met him on the off chance, you would surely recognize him. He was the kind of man you’d notice from afar, especially with his choppy mullet.

“Are you expecting someone?” He asked, his voice suddenly changing to a low whisper. Uncertain, you shook your head, remaining still while his breath tickled your ear.

“No, I don’t think anyone’s coming today.” Heaving a sigh of relief, he slumped himself on the chair before you, reverberating a grating thud that made his companions stare. He moved closer again, eyes directly in front of your food, then looked up to give you a smile that was too bright to handle.

“Looks good,”

“Your table got the same thing,”

“Oh,” He panicked. “Right… about that.”

“I don’t think I’ve met you anywhere around campus, and I’m not even sure if we go to the same university,” You blurted. The man in front of you heaved a dejected sigh, extending his long arms around the circumference of his chair. There was a genuine tinge of hurt in his breath, and you put your fork down, taking your copy of Heidegger and stuffing it in your bag. This was the type of conversation that demanded your full, unbridled attention.

“We were in the same calculus class in first year, then basically took the same courses in the second, and now, we share advanced macroeconomics and econometrics,”

“Econometrics with Professor Goo just ended, though.” You replied, peering deeper and deeper into his twinkling eyes. He tried his best to do a middle part with his extremely short bangs, making you finally remember who he was. A drastic change in hairstyle had prevented you from recognizing him,

“Were you in Choi’s seminar? The one that always brought a huge hockey stick to class?” Sungchan vehemently nodded, a bright smile etched on his face.

“I play soccer in the summer, and it bothered me to have hair on my face, so I just got some scissors and cut the front.”

“Looks nice on you,” You said, picking your fork up to twist a few bits of pasta and shrimp together.

“They don’t think so,” He scoffed. “I thought it looked okay initially, but all the girls don’t dig it. They told me I looked better when I had a clean cut without anything trailing past my neck, saying I looked like the mentally ill son of a war veteran! Could you believe that? The audacity of it all, my god! Why do all girls think a clean cut with a middle part makes you look refined? Because I, for one, know that all those assholes with the same haircut belong straight to the sewer.”

As far as you can remember, you meant it when you said he looked good. It wasn’t just the hair or his bright, doe eyes. He exuded the organic inertia, a force of life, as he sat in front of you. He was like a large deer with strong antlers running around the forest, galloping in the serenity of lush greeneries. His entire being moved with bursting energies of joy, laughter, annoyance, and despair—as if he were the embodiment of explosive emotion. You hadn’t seen such vibrance and color in ages and must admit that you enjoyed seeing him like that.

“Aren’t your friends waiting for you?” To this, a flip switched inside him, snapping him back to reality. His eyes widened, taking in all the light the sun had given him that afternoon, redirecting all of it back to you in pure, blunt force.

“That’s why I came here!” He exclaimed, his eyes turning up into shiny crescents. “You see one of those girls there?” He pointed at a girl who wore her hair in a short bob, her white cotton dress barely covering her thighs. You nodded, watching her tall nose go up and down as you predicted the flow of their conversation in your head.

“My friend, Jaemin, is trying to set me up with her, but I’m not really feeling it. She’s a little too uptight and bitter for my taste, and she would never stop talking about her ex. Like, I get that it scarred her, but why is she here right now, trying to get with me, if she knows she needs time to sort things out on her own?”

You averted your gaze from the girl, then stuffed your hands in your pockets. You instantly saw a flash of Eunseok in the girl, sensing the same brooding loneliness and desperation he had when he held you. You called the waiter and grabbed another cup of coffee, refraining from adding milk or sugar. The man stared at you in disgust, making a snarky remark about how much of a tryhard you were.

“Look at me, I’m so cool! I drink black coffee and I read German philosophy!”

You pressed your mouth in a neat, thin line, opening the book and picking up where you left off. You left a few bites of pasta on your plate, and the man in front of you dragged your tray and your fork, using his long, slender fingers to push the book down until you could see his eyes, which were staring at you with a frightening intensity.

“Anyway, I need you to act like my date for a bit. I told her I was already seeing a girl, and luckily, you were here before me!”

“I don’t even know your name.” You said dryly. You were ready to take your bag and leave a tip for the waiter.

“Sungchan, Jung Sungchan, the most unholy relic you’ve ever seen,” He grabbed his chair and stood up, shocking you a little with how tall he was. You rarely come across people that were his height, and in a sense, you liked that he was tall enough to obscure you from his group of friends. You wanted to dine here alone, after all.

“What if I turn your offer down?”

“Then I’ll cry right here, right now.”

“Cry about it.”

“You sure?”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

The determination in Sungchan’s eyes stayed undeterred. Before he could cause a scene, you paid your bill to the waitress, went outside the restaurant, and dragged him along, making a quick, sharp turn on one of the alleyways across the road. You took a deep breath, sharply inhaling and exhaling through your lungs. Sungchan’s innate enthusiasm flickered slightly, but he still looked like he was about to burst with energy.

“I’m not really in the right headspace to fuck around right now, so please try your luck with someone else.”

“I can’t.” He blurted. “I already told them your name. Besides, it won’t be too difficult. All you have to do is be with me all the time. That would get Jaemin to stop worrying, and I would basically have an impromptu restraining order on its own,”

“Restraining order?”

Sungchan nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, a restraining order. If people saw me with you all the time, started spreading rumors, and have that circulate around campus, then I’m sure I could get a few admirers off my back,”

By now, Sungchan’s food should’ve arrived at his table, but he didn’t move. He simply stayed put, eagerly waiting for your answer. You didn’t give him any.

“Come on!” He complained. “I’ll buy you lunch every day. I have no money now, but I should be able to get it soon since I have to coach a children’s match next week,”

Judging from his stature, it was natural to infer that he played sports. In first year, he had a hockey stick with him at all times, his blades sticking out of his bag like a walking hazard.

“How did you even get my name?”

“I looked at our class roster and thought, ah! She’s someone I’ve known since first year!”

“That’s it?” Sungchan nodded, hands still in his pockets.

The midday sun strewn with his sweat made his mullet stick right onto his temple, giving him the same look as Peanut’s yellow “safety helmet.” The question now was whether he would dye his hair blonde, but you found the dark, jet-black on him a good look.

“Yeah, and you’re not so bad yourself, you know? I think we could make a cute campus couple,” He joked.

“The free lunches sound like a good deal, but I’ll pass. Go find another one,”

“Are you always alone like that?” Sungchan asked. The intenseness in his gaze had softened, and his hands were out of his pockets. You nodded, and before you could leave the alleyway, he blocked the road with his tall stature, head standing right in front of the sun like a golden halo.

“Nobody likes to be alone, but I’m just tired of it all.”

“Woe is me; you can definitely publish that in your autobiography or something,” You muttered a small ‘thanks.’ Then, you tried to leave again. This time, he walked around to your side, neck leaning down to meet your eyes, keeping a close distance between you.

“Tell me, do you always wear such tacky clothes?”

“Yes, I do.” You snapped back patiently.

“Yes, I do, I love the way you talk. It’s like there’s no bullshit to it. No flare, no theatrics—not even any poetry! It’s so… smooth? Something like a calm river instead of a thrashing sea. Has anyone ever told you that?”

You shook your head again, trying to hide how taken aback you were by his sudden monologue. He gave you a wide, ear-to-ear grin, taking his pinky out and putting it right in front of your lips.

“I need to take you out for dinner, that’s non-negotiable. But think the offer through. I know you like being in your own little, solitary bubble surrounded by pretentious books, but if you change your mind, let me know.”

He ran back inside with his friends after who you assumed was Jaemin came out of the restaurant, nagging him about his food getting cold. He ignored his friend for a little while, keeping his eyes on you as you clutched your bag, ready to take the summer trek along the river to head back to your apartment. He seemed to be mulling over something, then he quickly took your hands in his, squeezed them, and went back inside the restaurant. He had his eyes on you, trailing your silhouette as you disappeared through the back alleyway near the restaurant, using a shortcut to get to the main bridge of the Han River.

In the following week, Sungchan didn’t keep his promise. There was no sign of him in the restaurant, and you thought of waiting for him over the same pasta and salad set, but the place started to fill up, prompting you to leave and go somewhere else. Sungchan was also not there when you attended your afternoon econometrics class. Upon asking your professor where he was, he shrugged and said he didn’t get any word of Sungchan’s absence.

“He’s the type of kid who always skips, you shouldn’t waste your time with someone like him.”

Walking to the receptionist, you booked an appointment with student affairs, searching their records for a “Jung Sungchan.” Sure enough, his name was listed in three classes you shared this semester: econometrics, quantitative analysis in public policy, and advanced macroeconomics. Then, you found the address to his house and a telephone number. He entered the university in 1984, living in the suburbs of Western Seoul with her family.

When you dialed the phone, a woman answered. “Jung Records, how may I help you today?” Jung Records? You balanced the receiver between your cheeks and shoulders, twirling the cord around your fingers.

“Sorry, is Sungchan around?”

“No, he’s not.”

“Do you know where he might be? He’s missed today’s class, and I wanted to see if I could give him my notes.” You lied, hearing some rustling on the other end of the line.

“He’s most likely at the hospital.”

You thanked and hung up, wondering what he could do at the hospital. Was he injured? Is it from soccer? Was he sick? Many scenarios swirled in your head, and the mysterious calm on the other end of the line worsened your unease. How could he say such a thing so nonchalantly, as if he was just going out to get groceries? Was he the type to always get sick? The questions didn’t seem to end until you reached the door to your apartment. Your body sank onto the couch, and you continued your debate with Heidegger.

The following week, you faithfully attended the econometrics lecture, sitting at the front of the lecture hall. You still saw no signs of Jung Sungchan, and after scanning the entire room, you took some letter paper from your bag and began drafting a letter to Eunseok. You wrote about the protests, your activities with the New Korean Democratic Party, and the people you had met during your political tenure.

After filling three sheets, you folded them inside an envelope and addressed them to Eunseok’s house in Jeju. By then, the lecturer had arrived, dabbing his face gracefully with a handkerchief as he began to take attendance. He was a tall, lanky man who walked with so much authority that the class stopped whatever they were doing when he came inside the room. Despite his strict and well-prepared nature, he could do nothing to make a subject such as econometrics fun. Without preamble, he starts the lecture where the class left off last week, explaining the concept of multivariate regression. When the door opened, he had written some formulas and statistical variants on the chalkboard for twenty minutes, revealing a disheveled Sungchan. He was wearing a blue Adidas tracksuit and some loose-fitting joggers. After making a quick bow and smiling at the professor, he sat beside you. Then, he took out his notebook and a small notepad, tearing one of the pages to hastily write something.

Sorry about yesterday, are you angry?

You shook your head and kept your eyes on the tall, lanky professor filling the chalkboard with more equations, filling your notebook with the same formulas. Sungchan kept his eyes on you while you copied everything down, watching your swift fingers seamlessly jot down everything the professor wrote at lightning speed.

“Mind sharing the notes with me later?” He asked. You nodded, keeping your eyes on your notebook.

There were about thirty minutes left of the lecture when you saw two students enter the door, both carrying the same political smell that most of your colleagues at the New Korean Democratic Party had. One of them, a stout, round fellow with prominent cheeks and dopey eyes, took a quick glance at you before going in front of the professor and asking for the room to be accessible for a political debate.

“I know you assholes are used to the school running a muck for your liberal agenda, but I don’t care. This is my class, and if you’re not fine with that, go leave and find another classroom to bother.”

After clearing his throat, the professor turned to your direction to ask if you had a part in this. You kept your eyes between your notebook and the chalkboard, shrugging off any suspicion the professor may have for you.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Sungchan whispered once the class had ended. You gave the stout one quick wave before they stormed the classroom, passing handbills to bystanders on campus election fraud. While you were technically a part of the crowd, you had to admit that the movement had been getting uninspired since the June 29 declaration. Free and fair elections were back as you knew it, and despite local politics, you realized student government didn’t matter. It wasn’t as if the union benefitted you in any way, and most of your insurance was paid for by the government, not by any union efforts to safeguard dental or dermatology. Besides, you couldn’t care less about having perfect teeth or smooth skin. It wasn’t the end of your world if you had to pay a couple extra just to have pearly whites and glass-like, porcelain skin.

“Do you think they’ll kill us after the revolution?” Sungchan asked when the two of you were outside of the lecture hall.

“I’m technically part of the problem,” You replied, dodging through a crowd of people to swiftly get to the exit. Sungchan followed suit, using his long arms to push past people who were getting in your way.

“So you’re a communist who likes German philosophy because you wanna be oh-so-cool, that’s funny. I like it.”

“I’m gonna go eat lunch,”

“There’s a place I wanna take you. It’s not that far from here,”

Sungchan took you to the bus to Dongdaemun and showed you to a Russian restaurant with specialty pierogies in a neatly sheltered spot just behind the market. The minute the two of you sat down, they served you some borscht and the lunch of the day in large plates. You had never had Russian food before, but the distance was worth the meal.

“This is great,”

“And cheap, too. I came here before the Russians when it was still some sketchy, run-down marketplace. This used to be a dumpling place run by some old guy when I was still going to school, and we all had to sneak out since they were so strict about these things.”

When Sungchan wasn’t busy finishing his borscht, he would rub his sleepy, heavy lids, which looked much more languid than last time. When he wasn’t playing with his chopsticks or hounding the Russian waiter for more soup, he would incessantly rub the corners of his eyes, careful not to put any borscht residue on them.

“Tired?” You asked.

“Sorta. I haven’t been getting enough sleep lately, but it’s okay, don’t worry about me.” He replied. “Sorry about the other day. Something important came up, and I couldn’t ditch it. I thought about calling you at the restaurant, but I couldn’t remember your name and didn’t know your home number. Did you wait too long?”

You shook your head amidst a cup of warm tea. “No worries, I’m a woman with a lot of time.”

“A lot?”

“Yes, way more than I need, to be honest. I wish I could give you some to help you sleep.”

Sungchan rested his cheek on his palms, a vast, crescent-eyed grin forming. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?”

“I don’t think so. Like I said, I just have too much time to kill.”

You thought about telling him you called his house but decided against it. There was always a time and a place for anything, and if he wanted to tell you about it, he would at a particular time in a specific place. While Sungchan was a chatty person, there was a meticulous way that he picked and chose what type of conversation he wanted to have, almost as if directing the flow of his words solely to avoid something he didn’t like to talk about. You felt the hospital was sensitive to it, so you dropped it altogether.

He took you to his old school, a short walk from Dongdaemun. Passing through the bus stop and the train station, you thought about Eunseok and your endless walks with him. It had all started back home on the beaches of Jeju, and it arguably ended here in the city. If Eunseok had never visited you in Seoul, your life would have been different. Then, you changed your mind. No, even if he never visited Seoul to see you, your life wouldn’t change. He was meant to come to see you; if not, he was bound to visit you some other time. There was no logic to it; it was just a feeling.

You and Sungchan sat on a park bench together, looking through the tall gates of his old school. Vines of old-growth moss clung to the walls, and pigeons huddled under the rooftop, resting their wings. While the building looked nice, something was brooding and ominous about it.

“I really didn’t wanna go to this school,” Sungchan started. He shook his head until his eyes had hit the ground. “I wanted to go to a normal State school with normal people where I could just be myself and have fun like a normal teenager, but my parents thought it would look good on me to go to this stuck-up, fancy place. They’re the ones who sent me in here, and I suppose that’s just what happens when you do well in primary school. The teacher tells your parents that you have more potential, and they start considering it too, even if they didn’t have the budget to send me here. I went here for like, six years, and I absolutely hated it. All I could think of then was to leave, and you know, I’ve gotten awards for never being late or having missed a day of school. That’s how much I hated this place. Do you get what I’m saying?”

“No, not really.”

“It’s because I hated this damn place so much, that I wasn’t going to let it beat me. Because if I let them get to me even just once, I’d be finished. I was scared I’d just keep slipping down and down. Even if I was sick, I’d crawl to school, teetering at my last breath with a temperature of 39 degrees. When the teachers would ask me if I was sick, I would always shake my head and go to class. When I left, they gave me awards for perfect attendance and punctuality, plus a tennis racket for being one of the best tennis players in the school. That’s why I’m never playing tennis at university ever again. I didn’t wanna owe this school anything.”

“Why did you hate your school so much?”

“Did you enjoy going to your school?”

“Not really, but I didn’t hate it. I went to a normal State school, but I didn’t really think about it at all.

“Well, this school,” Sungchan explained, using the tip of his index finger to rub his eyes. “Had nothing but upper-class boys, almost four hundred boys from a prestigious background. Rich boys. They all had to be rich and stay rich to survive. Expensive tuition, donations, and extravagant school trips. If we went to Busan, they’d book the most expensive hotel and serve us the best seafood on lacquerware, then take us to a fancy hotel in Seoul to teach us some table manners. This wasn’t an ordinary school at all. And out of a hundred boys in my class, I was the only one from a middle-class background. I looked at the class register to see where everyone else lived, and they were all from a rich area like Gangnam. One boy from Incheon was an heir to a farm that I became friends with, and he was really nice. But can you imagine him feeling embarrassed about living in Incheon? I mean, this was the type of kid that got driven around in a Benz by a chauffeur! And still, he had this inferiority complex. Can you believe it?”

You shook your head in disbelief.

“I was the only one in the whole school who came from a suburb like Ichon. My parents were the only record shop owners in there, and when my classmates would say I was lucky to have all the records I wanted to listen to at the tip of my fingers, I would laugh at them! Of course, they expected something big like an HMV, but no! Records have been dying since the Walkman was created, and they would’ve never expected a small, poor, little Jung Records. From the entrance to the cash register, there is nothing but old records from pop stars you’ve never even heard of! The only people who still shop there are the widowed ahjummas who don’t know how to use a Walkman or a Boombox! No Beatles, no New Order, not even Wham! Do you think I’m lucky?”

When you closed your eyes, you could see the type of place Sungchan was talking about. A cozy, run-down record store in the middle of an alleyway in suburban Seoul, welcoming regulars in the neighborhood who were too old to adapt to a newer, digital age.

“What I will tell you, though, is that it’s not bad business. Everyone in the neighborhood has known who we are for some time now, and we always deliver. Also, we make more than enough to support a family of four. No debts, two sons in university, but that’s it. There are no extras, and they should’ve never sent me to a school like that. It was a recipe for disaster. I had to hear them complain about the uptick in tuition every year when they thought I was asleep, and whenever the school would ask for a donation, they scrambled everything they could to provide even just a tiny amount. I never made friends, nor did I hang out with anybody after school because I was always so scared of running out of money in case they wanted to go someplace expensive to eat. It’s such a miserable way to live. Anyway, is your family rich?”

You shook your head. “My parents are white-collar working-class people who’ve been working as auditors for a cargo company in Jeju. We’re not rich or poor, and I know it hasn’t been easy on them to send me all the way to Seoul, but it’s just me, so that’s not really a big deal. I work part-time to take the load off them, and our house back in Jeju is just a regular two-story home with a little garden for our dog and a Toyota Corolla parked in the garage.”

“Where do you work, and what do you do?”

“I work at the library in Yonsei. There’s not much to do other than sorting books out and hounding the people that have books overdue.”

Sungchan’s mouth was agape, doe-eyes glimmering in the sunset as he shifted closer to your frame. “You’re joking, right? I mean, you just seem like someone who’s had an easy life, you know?”

“It’s not like we ever suffered financially, but it’s not like I had tons of money growing up, either. I’m just like everyone else.”

“Well, everyone else in my school was rich,” Sungchan replied, squeezing his knees with his palms.

“Now that you’re out of that environment, I’m sure you’ll have a lot of chances to see the normal people you craved so much, you know?”

“I hope so… I mean, university’s going great so far! It’s full of normal people!” He smiled with the slightest curl of his lip and smoothed his mullet with the palms of his hand.

“Do you have a job?” You asked.

“Yeah, I work at the campus radio. I make little playlists and recommendations for people who ask, with descriptions of what makes each song special or something like that. We also play songs on the radio depending on what people request, whether they want something romantic, sad, or happy, because those are the three moods that only exist when it comes to music. It’s so easy! Takes zero time and no effort at all. I can come up with an entire playlist and burn it on a cassette tape in a day. All you have to do is master a couple of secrets about the trade, and all kinds of work, regardless of the type, comes your way.”

“And what are these secrets?”

“Say, you take the entire mood of heartbreak, for example. Sure, there are many songs about heartbreak, but you need to know what type of heartbreak the person requesting a playlist or recommendations is going through. It doesn’t have to be anything big at all, just some tiny nuance like that. People also love graphic sentimentality, so make sure you’re curating songs and artists that really speak to them, and the money comes decent.”

“Yeah, but don’t nuances get a bit too tedious? And doesn’t it require enough knowledge of musicians, artists, etc.?”

“True,” Sungchan replied, tilting his head so that his choppy bangs flowed back and forth between his forehead. “But if you look for them, you usually find them, say, in like a gossip magazine or a music almanac. And if you don’t, there’s really no harm in making stuff up. I never get caught.”

He said he wanted to hear more about you, so you told him the usual stories you would tell in the first year about Peanut and Mirae. You would tell him precisely about Peanut’s’ neat freak tendencies, her yellow “safety helmet” that she wore alongside several layers of surgical masks, safety goggles, shin pads, and UV-repellant clothing. Peanut especially made Sungchan laugh, wishing he had a chance to look at the dorm back then.

“Now, it’s just me alone with my coffee and my daily paper next to the Han River, either going to lectures, going to work at the library and sitting on my secret spot during breaks, sometimes going to the party office to do some bookkeeping for them sometimes, or sometimes organizing and attending riots.”

“Does every girl just casually mention that one day she’ll either be a martyr or get arrested by the government for treason?”

You laughed, crossed your legs, and stared at the clear, open blue sky. “Yeah, I think so. We all love to talk, as quiet as we may be.”

“Even something as top secret as government insurgency?”

“Maybe? But what we do at the party, at least as far as I know, has nothing to do with government insurgency. Things have been relatively calm since the June 29 declaration, and although people are somewhat angry at the results, there’s nothing we can do when there’s no foul play in the presidential elections. He won fair and square.”

“I don’t really know much about this sort of stuff when I should, I mean, I don’t know. I couldn’t care less about politics, to be honest,”

“Well, I guess those ahjummas stopping by the record store don’t talk about it enough,”

“Not at all!” He replied, laughing. “Anyway, how’s Sunday looking this week? Are you free?”

“Yeah, I should be. The library’s closed, so I shouldn’t have work, either.”

“Why don’t you come visit me? At Jung Records? The shop will be closed, but I have to hang around there all day to watch a few things. I also might be getting an important phone call, but that’s beside the point. How does lunch sound? I can cook for you,”

“I think I’d like that,” You said with a smile.

Sungchan tore a page from his notepad and wrote the address and the nearest train station and bus stop to his record shop.

“Really, once you walk straight from the station to the residential area, you can’t miss it. There’s a big sign that says Jung Records. Come at around noon. I should have something ready for us by then.”

After thanking him, you put the page in your jacket pocket. “I should be getting back to campus now; my shift starts in an hour.”

Sungchan said he had somewhere to be as well and took the train from Dongdaemun.

When Sunday morning came, you woke at eight, made coffee, read the daily paper, did your laundry, and hung the clothes on your balcony. You picked out a lovely, long black maxi dress with thin straps that gracefully went over your shoulders. It was a beautiful day, with the sun shining brightly over everything it touched, adding a spiritual iridescence to things so banal. Ladybugs fluttered everywhere, sitting atop your stretched-out duvet hanging on the balcony. With no wind, the river looked flat from where you were. Despite being a student, the area you lived in housed more families and entry-level graduates, so Sunday wasn’t dead quiet. In fact, it was quite the opposite. While most shops were closed, children were still running around the riverbank, playing hopscotch or tag while their parents watched on picnic mats. Another group of kids just across the pavement were throwing rocks at empty cans. A flower shop was open right next to the train station, so you went in and bought some daffodils. You knew it wasn’t in season, especially with the dawn of autumn, but you’ve always liked daffodils.

Three old women sat across you on the train, looking at you and your flowers. One of them gave you a smile, and you smiled back. You sat in the train’s last car, watching the ancient houses stack on top of mountains like piles of dominoes. The train was a little slow and flimsy today, but the speed was enough for you to see the laundry deck out of each resident’s window. One of the windows had a small garden with ten juicy, ripe tomatoes beside a big calico cat stretched out in the sun. In the window of another house, a little girl in ribbons was blowing soap bubbles with her mother. You heard a distant Lee Sunhee ballad through the radio from somewhere, and you could catch a view of old men doing stretches at the park below the train tracks. After snaking its way through a large tunnel, a few more passengers got on. Despite that, the three old women stayed still, talking intently about something while huddled together in their seats.

You got off near Ichon station and asked a staff member if he knew the quickest route to the residential area, as written in Sungchan’s notes. When offered to walk with you, you politely declined, simply asking for directions so you have a good idea of where you were. Any street signs, turns, or landmarks were all you needed to ground yourself in this part of town.

As you began your journey, the shops you passed by didn’t look too well; they were housed in old buildings with gloomy interiors and faded writing on some of the signs. Judging from the age and style of the buildings, you believe that this area was spared during the bombing raids in World War II and the Korean War, as whole blocks and districts were still intact. Some buildings had been rebuilt, with giant apartments erected in an old neighborhood. Besides, most houses had been enlarged or repaired in certain places, giving off a shabby or tacky look. The entire atmosphere of the place gave you the impression that the original residents had given up on the taxing toll of city life and moved to the suburbs, leaving nothing but cheap, run-down apartment blocks, empty lots, and a few stubborn families who clung to their long-time family businesses.

A few minutes of walking uphill brought you to a corner shop, where you turned left into a small, albeit dead, market on the right side in the middle of the road, which hung a large sign for Jung Records. While it wasn’t a big shop by all means, it wasn’t the tiny, mom-and-pop locality Sungchan had described. It was just a typical neighborhood record shop, the same ones you used to pass by on your commute to school. A wave of nostalgia hit you as you stood in front of the place, and you grazed your hands on the big, metal shutter that covered the entrance to the shop. You were technically ten or so minutes early, but you didn’t know how you’d kill your time in a neighborhood that seemingly didn’t have a coffee shop, so you pressed the buzzer and kept the bouquet of daffodils snug in your arms. Only a few seconds had passed, and you looked up to see Sungchan leaning over, long arms waving at you.

“Come in,” he yelled. “Just lift the shutter with the other button there.” He pointed at a button next to the buzzer marked with an ‘x’ over masking tape.

“Is it okay if I come in? I’m kind of early?” You shouted back.

“No problem. Come in and make yourself comfortable. I’m busy in the kitchen right now.” He left the balcony in a hurry.

The whirring of the shutter made you drop the daffodils on your arms as soon as it lifted itself up. It flimsily stopped midway through opening itself entirely, so you used the chance to duck inside the shop, then pressed the button with the masking tape again to see if it could close it back. To your surprise, it did, and you swiftly picked your daffodils from the ground and covered your nose with a handkerchief as you traversed through the store. The shop was pitch black inside, and you managed to find your way around by feeling through shelves and piles of records, tripping over square-shaped vinyl jackets on your way to the staircase. You kicked your Mary Janes off and climbed the stairs to the dining table. The only light source entering the living area was a small opening in a matted curtain, making the interior dark and gloomy.

“Over here,” Sungchan called. To the corner on the right of the room was the kitchen, with all the windows opened. The entire building was old, but something new about the kitchen made it stand out from the rest of the shop and the rooms in the house. You didn’t know if it was because Sungchan regularly polished the counter, or if it was due to the shiny luster in the sink taps, but the kitchen was the only place that felt like it belonged in the current era, while the rest of the building was a bygone relic. Sungchan was preparing food, busy pacing around with bubbling pots and the smell of grilled fish.

“There’s beer in the fridge if you want,” he said, taking a quick glance in your direction.

“Make yourself comfortable. I should be done in a few,” You nodded and took a can of beer from the mini-fridge. The beer was so cold that it might have been in the fridge for an entire year. There was a small white ashtray on the table, the daily paper, and a couple of condiments. There was also the same notepad that Sungchan used when he gave you the directions to his place with a pen, a hastily written phone number, and what appeared to be a shopping list written on the side.

“Wait, I lied. I should be done in about ten,” He said, wiping the sweat off his forehead with his tank top. “Can you wait, or are you so hungry that you could devour a three-course meal in one go?”

“I can wait,” You replied.

“Good.” He said with a smile. “Get hungrier, then. I’m making a lot.”

You slowly sipped your beer and focused on Sungchan as he continued cooking, his broad shoulders and muscular back on you. He worked with quick, nimble movements, handling four cooking utensils simultaneously. He tasted a boiled dish in one pot, and the next second, he was rhythmically cutting vegetables on the cutting board; then, he was crouched over on the fridge, and before you knew it, his back was on the sink washing a pot that he had just finished using. You watched in awe as he was immersed in his craft, never missing a beat or his sense of balance as he gave the illusion of having eight limbs.

“Do you need help with anything?” You asked, standing up from your seat with an empty can of beer in your hands.

“Oh, no! No, no, NO! Sit back down,” Sungchan demanded, abruptly turning the stove off and shoving you back into your seat. Then, he returned to his cooking, turned the stove on, and tossed some spring onions in a large frying pan. He wore a slim, loose-fitting pair of joggers that hung snugly on his hips and a tight tank top that went just above his abdomen. The light pouring in from the kitchen window gave his figure an almost Promethean outline, making it extensively clear that he frequented the gym or was extremely meticulous about his health.

“You really didn’t have to put an entire feast together, you know?”

“What, you’re calling this a feast?” Sungchan joked. “I was too lazy to do any shopping today, if I’m being completely honest with you. I’m just throwing around what I have in the fridge. Besides, it’s a family tradition of ours to treat our guests well. I don’t know what it is, but it’s kind of like we’re born to entertain. It’s like a sickness because it’s not like we’re especially nice, or we love people or anything, but if someone comes over, we have to treat them like the king of the castle.”

“Does that explain the beers in the fridge?” You asked. Sungchan vehemently nodded.

“My stupid father hardly ever drinks because it’s bad for him, but he stocks up on a lot of alcohol to serve guests! So please, drink as much as you want. It would make him happy knowing his stock is going to be of good use.”

“Thank you,”

You took the daffodils on the table and handed them over to Sungchan, who immediately grabbed a tall, slim glass from one of the cupboards and placed the flowers in it.

“I’m not much of a flower person, but these are so pretty,” He marveled, doe-eyes gazing over each petal with gentle care. “What are they called again?”

“Daffodils,”

“Is it the same as narcissus or something?” He asked. You shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not the best at the language of flowers, but I think daffodils belong to the same family or is a part of a family of flowers called narcissus,”

“That makes sense then. I once played piano for a classic Korean production in my old school about daffodils.”

He hummed the melody to Narcissus while plating the food.

Much to your chagrin, Sungchan’s cooking was far better than what you’d expected. A diverse, fantastic assortment of grilled, marinated, fried, boiled, roasted, and cured dishes using mackerel, radishes, seaweed, mushrooms, pork bone, and sesame seeds, all cooked in the intense flavors of the Southern Jeju style.

“Wow, this is really good,” You said with your mouth full.

“You didn’t expect my cooking to be good, didn’t you? Based on how I look or something,”

“Not really, no,”

“You’re from Jeju, right? So you like this kind of flavor profile, don’t you?”

“Did you seriously change your cooking just for me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course not! We always eat like this!”

“Are any of your relatives from Jeju?”

“No, we’re all born and raised in Seoul, as far as I know. There’s not a single person from the South. We’re all from around the area.”

“I don’t get it,” You continued, heaping more food from your chopsticks into your mouth. “How can you make this super authentic Jeju dish? Were you taught, or did you go to any classes?”

“It’s kind of a long story,” He replied, taking apart a piece of grilled mackerel. He used the other end of his chopsticks to start deboning a small piece on your plate, feeding it to you once he was finished.

“My parents never really had the time to cook, and we always had the business to think about, so it was either take out or eat at a restaurant. When we didn’t have money to eat out, we bought ready-made lunches at the convenience store or nearby butchers. Even when I was little, I couldn’t stand the lack of fresh food, and it wasn’t like my mom cared about changing things up. We just kept eating the same, ready-made lunch boxes, and I grew so tired of it that I taught myself how to cook. I went to the big Kyobo in Gwanghwamun and bought the thickest cookbook I could find, mastering it from cover to cover whenever I had the time. The author also turned out to be from Jeju, which explains why much of what I cook is in the Jeju style.”

“Wait, so you’re telling me you taught yourself how to cook? Just you and a book?”

Sungchan nodded, pride brimming widely in his grin. He took another bite out of the grilled mackerel in front of him, took a large heap of rice, and swallowed the rest with some seaweed soup.

“It was only until I turned twenty that I had the money to go and eat at a real Jeju-styled restaurant. My dream is to go to Jeju one day and try the real thing there, but I think the restaurant I went to here in Seoul was close enough and helped me understand most of the nuances and flavorings that I needed to master my dishes.”

“Wow…” You exclaimed, taking a piece of shrimp into your mouth. “I could never have taught myself how to cook. I mean, how do you do it? Especially when you weren’t able to see how it’s done right before your eyes?”

“It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows,” Sungchan explained, sighing while chewing on a slice of fried eggplant. “Especially when I grew up in a household where nobody gave a single crap about food. I would beg my dad for a better knife or a decent pot, and he’d tell me to spend my money on something else! I mean, the audacity! You can’t possibly debone a fish properly with cheapass knives, and how can you expect me to sous vide meat without an immersion circulator or some vacuum sealers? Every time I’d make these requests, they’d just look at me like I was crazy for trying to sous vide beef at home. It was hopeless trying to tell them that all the money was worth having good food in the house, so I took it upon myself to save as much as I could and buy the equipment with my own money. Little old fifteen-year-old me spending my entire allowance on nicer pots, higher quality knives, strainers, whatever you can think of. Can you imagine? Other boys are buying cleats and nice jerseys of their favorite baseball players while I’m here, spending every buck I can on cooking utensils! Isn’t that nice?”

You nodded with every word, swallowing a mouthful of bright red soup drenched in gochugaru with tofu and spring onions.

“I know this sounds a bit disgraceful, but I’m happy my mom died,” Sungchan continued, putting his chopsticks down momentarily to wipe his mouth with his arms. A bright, orange stain smeared his forearm, leaving an outline of his lips where it touched his skin.

“Why is that?” You asked. Sungchan’s doe eyes widened, staring into your pupils as if communicating his thoughts to you directly.

“Because now that it’s just me, my brother, and my dad, I get to take control of the family budget. I bought what I wanted, and that meant completing my set of cooking tools. My dad doesn’t know a single thing,”

“When did your mom die?”

“When I was seventeen or so, somewhere around my last year of high school. Some nasty tumor did it for her, but it’d probably be distasteful to joke about which one she had on the table. She was bedridden for about four months, was taken home because she seemed better, and then spent the last six months of her life with chemicals injected in her. I already knew that a part of her had died the moment the diagnosis came in, but by the end of it, she wasn’t even a human being anymore. Hardly spoke, looked like a shriveled-up raisin, had no hair, and didn’t even know who me or my brother were. I think that type of death is the worst kind, where both the patient and the entire family go through a different kind of hell. It wasn’t just awful watching my own mother become a vegetable, but it took every Won in our pockets. I mean, every session was 200,000 down the drain, and it wasn’t like the nurses were there for free either, you know what I mean?”

Sungchan stopped for a moment, mouth agape and hanging in thought. With his chin resting atop his bone-like knuckles, his doe-eyes formed crescents, bright brown turning into a spectrum of hazel under the rays of the seeping sun.

“How did we get here?” He laughed.

“I think it started with the budget and how you’re happy your mom died,”

“Finish your food and think about my little sob story, will you?” Sungchan said, his smile quickly fading into a solemn, thin line.

After that, Sungchan barely touched his food, prompting you to put your chopsticks down as well. You thought you would ask him to take some of the food home, as it was too good to waste.

“Cooking makes me less hungry,” Sungchan started, taking a slim, pristine cigarette stick between his lips and lighting it with a match. His eyes wandered until it hit the bouquet of daffodils resting neatly in a tall, slim glass.

“They look nice like that,” He said.

“I guess I rescued them from being stepped on at the riverbank,” You replied.

He chuckled airily, smoking half of his cigarette and dumping the rest in a small, wooden ashtray. Rubbing his eyes, he grabbed the bright red box of Marlboros and fiddled with its corners.

“Do you smoke?” He asked. You shook your head, gathering the empty bowls and plates before Sungchan stopped you to dump them into the sink himself.

“I stopped in the summer,” You replied.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I just hated running out of ‘em in the middle of the night.”

“You make it really obvious whether you like things or not,” Sungchan said.

“I think that’s why people never really liked me,”

“You show it, that’s why,” He continued, resting his head on the curves of your neck. “You show that you don’t care about people, and that type of attitude makes them angry, especially the ones that think they’re important.”

“But that’s what also makes talking to you so enjoyable,” You felt him grin as his lips touched your neck. You dragged him up and pushed the small of his back towards the sink, helping him dry some of the dishes as he began washing them with an abundance of bubbly dish soap. Standing next to him, you did your best to wipe everything in a spick-and-span state, stacking each plate and utensil carefully on the drying rack.

“Are your parents out today?” You asked. Sungchan nodded, eyes focused on a stained plate.

“Well, my mom’s six feet under,”

“You told me that,”

“My brother’s on a date with his fiance, probably on a drive somewhere off the coast nearby. They both love going to the beach, even if the weather is horrid up here.” He then kept his lips pressed in a thin line, gripping the sponge until it oozed with more white bubbles. You did the same and focused on scrubbing the plates with a tea-stained cloth.

“Then, there’s my dad,” He whispered after some time had gone by. You nodded, eyes still on the plates that were now neatly lined up against each other on the rack.

“He’s off to Thailand, has been since last spring.”

“Thailand?” You asked in shock, as if to ask him what and why his father was in Thailand out of all places.

“Didn’t really say much about him, but he’s an eccentric one. A friend of his was in Vietnam during the war and deserted to Thailand, running off with a woman. He now has a farm there, and my dad just got on a plane and told us he was settling there. My brother and I tried to stop him—we told him he couldn’t speak the language, didn’t know a single thing about the customs, and how he wasn’t used to a place like that after being in Seoul his entire life. He didn’t seem to care and wouldn’t listen to a single word we said. I guess losing mom made him go a little bit insane.”

There wasn’t much you could say except stare at Sungchan, mouth agape in bewilderment.

“Do you wanna know what he said after mom died? He said he would’ve much rather lost us instead of her. I mean, how was I supposed to respond to that? You don’t say such a thing to your kids, you know? For sure, he lost the love of his life, his life partner. I get that it’s a super painful thing to go through, something that makes you sad for the rest of your life, but you don’t tell your own sons that they should have died in her place. That’s just terrible, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,”

“Honestly, I don’t think that wound would ever close inside me, even if my dad took it back,” He said while shaking his head. “In some ways, everyone in my family’s odd. We’ve got something strange in us, even if it’s just a little bit.”

“I think I’d react in the same way if my dad said something like that to me,” You replied.

“But despite the harshness of it all, I still think it’s a wonderful thing for two people to be in love like that, no? I mean, for a man to love his wife so much that he tells his sons they should’ve died in her place, then runs off to Thailand as he dumps the two of us right here in Korea.”

You wiped the last plate without replying, while Sungchan swiftly put everything back in their respective cabinets.

“So, have you heard anything from him at all?” You asked.

“On a postcard sent to us back in the fall. The only thing he tells us is the difference in whether or how the fruits tasted better there. I mean, seriously? Give me a break! One dumb photo of him riding an elephant! He’s lost his goddamn mind! He didn’t even tell us the specifics of how he met the guy—the deserter who owns a farm there or whatever. He didn’t even tell us about sending us there once he’s settled, and he’s ignored our letters to him since.”

“What would you do if your dad told you to come to Thailand?”

“I think I’d go and tour a bit of it, I mean, by the sounds of it and the guidebooks I’ve been looking at, it sounds like a nice place to be. My brother, on the other hand, would absolutely refuse. He can’t stand dirty places.”

“Is Thailand dirty?”

“I don’t know? Maybe? He thinks it is. Like, the roads are full of elephant shit or something, swarming with flies while the toilet is an entire forest. He saw a documentary of the sort and made that conclusion. He can’t stand flies, either, and all he wants to do is drive through nice beaches in expensive cars.”

“No way…”

“I mean, to hell with him! What’s wrong with Thailand? I’d go for sure!”

“So who’s running Jung Records while he’s gone?”

“My brother technically, but he hates it. We have a neighboring aunt who helps around here and there, and I help, too, when I have time. A record shop isn’t exactly the hardest thing to manage, so it’s fine. And if it’s too much, we can always sell the place.”

“Do you like your dad?” Sungchan stopped for a second, then vehemently shook his head.

“So how can you go with him to Thailand if you don’t like him?”

“I believe in him, that much I can do.”

The two of you then went up to the balcony of the building, where he rested his palms on your cheek, caressing it before giving you a chaste, slow kiss. A fire had broken out in one of the buildings nearby, causing smoke to go up as he rushed out to see what was going on. Soon enough, sirens began to wail in the empty, suburban air of Seoul, and he nonchalantly made coffee for you while talking about Thailand. You couldn’t recall its proper location, but you knew it was near Vietnam.

“The Lee family’s building burned down,” He said. “They traded silverware and porcelain if I could recall correctly, but they went out of business some time ago.”

You leaned over the railings, head resting on his slow, beating chest. A large apartment unit blocked the view, but you could see flashes of red trucks flowing into the streets, about three or four that were parked nearby, dousing the flames with large pipes.

“Maybe you should evacuate,” You said to Sungchan. “The wind’s blowing in the other direction, but it could always change its course. You can always stay at my place, and I’ll help you pack whatever you need.”

“Fuck that,” Sungchan spat happily. “I’m staying here. Ride or die. Even if this place burns down, I’ll be right here. I don’t mind death.”

He looked straight into your eyes, and you couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. The only thing that you felt was the warmth that his arms exuded as he continued to hold you, long, slender fingers caressing the surface of your skin.

“Alright, I’ll stay here with you, then,”

“You’re gonna die with me?” He asked, eyes shining brighter than the radiant sun.

“What? No way! I’ll run if it starts to get here, you can go die alone.”

“Ouch, that’s cold, you bitch!”

“I’m not gonna die with you just because you made me lunch. If you added dinner on the itinerary, though, then I might consider it.”

“Anyway, let’s stay here for a while. We can talk about you now if you’re interesting enough.”

Sungchan brought two pillows from his bedroom, several bottles of beer, and some snacks from the kitchen. He says they were leftover cookies from the week before, but the dough tasted fresh enough that you inferred he made them in the morning. The two of you drank together and watched the thick, black smoke rise from the building. He asked you more questions about yourself that you couldn’t seem to answer, and you slumped onto his shoulder while he gently played with your loose hair.

“When my mother died, I didn’t really feel sad or anything,” He started, hands now looping through your scalp, as if searching for something valuable.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I didn’t feel a thing.”

“Does that make me cold like you?” He asked jokingly. You shook your head, burrowing your face onto the comforts of his chest.

“I’m sure you had your reasons.”

“I do, I really do. Things were always complicated in this household, but I always thought that I’d be sad if they died, I mean, they’re my parents, you know? But that didn’t happen. I hardly felt anything when my mom died, and now, I hardly even think of them at all. Sometimes, I dream about it; I see her glaring at me and lecturing me about how ungrateful I am for being happy that she died. But the thing is, I’m not happy at all, I’m just not sad about it. And to tell you the honest truth, I didn’t even cry at all. I cried when my dog died, though, when I was like, five or something.”

The only thing on your mind at the time was how much smoke there was despite the abundance of fire trucks that squeezed into the small boulevard. You couldn’t see any flames spewing out of the area, and it didn’t seem to be spreading anywhere. There was only a column of black smoke that continued to rise into the sky. What could’ve caused it, and why was it burning for such a long time?

“I think if they—my parents—had loved me a bit more, then I would’ve been sadder, you know?”

“Do you think they didn’t love you enough?” Sungchan tilted his head, leaning over until his forehead touched yours. Then, he gave you a subtle nod.

“I don’t know, it’s somewhere in between being loved and not being loved, I guess. I mean, I was always so hungry for love, and I always thought about what it felt like to truly be loved, to be fed so much of it that I’d be filled with it inside and out. They never gave that to me. Never. Not once did they pamper me or beg me for something, they’d just push me aside and yell at me, complaining about how much I’d spend on cooking tools. That’s all I’ve ever heard from them. So, I made up my mind. I told myself that I was gonna find someone who would unconditionally love me forever. I was still very young at the time, probably in elementary or so, but I made up my mind and have been searching since,”

“And did you end up finding it?”

Sungchan watched the rising smoke for a while, pensive in his own thoughts. “I don’t know, I’ve been waiting for so long that I’m looking for the perfect person. That makes it a tough ass search for me.”

“Waiting for the one?”

“No, even I know that doesn’t exist. I’m looking for a girl I can be selfish with, like, a girl who will drop everything in a heartbeat just because I said I wanted some cake or something. Then I say I don’t want it anymore and throw it out the window, while she is still there, completely content with the fact that I made her do something for me. That’s what I’m looking for.”

“I don’t think that has anything to do with love,” You said in utter shock.

“It does!” He replied, insisting in his odd fantasy as he continued to twirl your hair between his fingers. “You just don’t know it because you’re not a man.”

“So finding a girl who willingly buys you cake and watches you throw it away is love to a man?”

“Something like that. And when I throw it out, I want her to apologize to me, telling me that she’s sorry because she should’ve known that I would lose the appetite for cake, and had the intelligence and foresight to refuse my initial request knowing that I would get sick of cake, then go out again to buy me something else, asking me what I would like next.”

“Then?”

“Then I’d give her all the love she deserves for what she’s done for me.”

“You’re insane.”

“Well, that’s what love is to me. Not that I think anyone can understand, though.” Sungchan replied, giving his head a little shake. Now, he was lying next to you, eyes twinkling as he held your head into his chest, caressing the small of your back with a soft, gentle touch.

“I’ve never met a guy who thinks like you,”

“I get that a lot,” He said, resting his chin on the crown of your head. “But I guess it’s just how I think. Like, I’m honestly just telling you what I believe in. I’ve never really cared or realized that how I think is different from other people. I’m not trying to be different, but whenever I say something that I mean, people just think I’m doing it for attention. When that happens, I just feel so hurt.”

“And you’re letting yourself die in a fire?”

“No, that’s different from this whole thing! I’m just curious,”

“About what it feels like to die in a fire?”

“No, I just really wanted to see what you’d say or something,” He said, resting his forehead against yours again while letting the tip of his nose brush against yours. “But if I’m being completely honest with you, I’m not afraid to die. Like, I’d just be consumed with all the black smoke and lose consciousness in a snap. Just like that. The thought of it doesn’t scare me at all, because it’s not as harsh as the way my mom died. It’s not a long, slow process of pain and suffering. A fire’s quick.”

Sungchan put a stick of Marlboro between his lips and lit it with another match, watching the black smoke from his lips swirl into the sky.

“That type of death scares me. The type that slowly eats away at you, taking everything you’ve known and loved until it pulverizes it into a dark abyss. I couldn’t stand something like that.”

Another hour went by, and the fire was completely put out. The firefighters kept it from spreading out into the neighborhood, and all but one fire truck remained in the streets, whirring its orange siren around the streets, its bright, neon light spinning. Sungchan seemed drained of all the energy left of him, and he barely spoke.

“Are you tired?” You asked. He shook his head.

“I think I’m just spaced out.”

He looked deep into your eyes, head slowly tilting until his lips met yours. You felt his tongue slowly swirl into yours, the same sense of hunger and desperation felt between the caverns of your mouth electrifying you to the touch. The slightest rush kept him rigid, but he succumbed to deep relaxation and closed his eyes, hands searching across your back until one rested on your shoulder blades while the other, with a firm grip, felt the curves of your ass. The setting summer sun rested on his cheek, emitting a radiant, otherworldly glow in his trembling lashes. He pulled away as if something told him to stop, and then he held your hands, mouth twitching with difficulty, as if what the two of you did had an element of danger to it.

“Is there someone you’re seeing right now?” He asked. You nodded.

“But you’re always free on Sundays, no?”

“It’s… complicated.” You replied, eyes cast down to your feet.

And then, the summer had set into early autumn, its breeze casting a cold, lonesome touch to your bare shoulders. You told Sungchan you had to go back home to complete some assignments, asking him to come with you for some tea. He said he needed to stay home in case the phone rang.

“I’d been here the whole time, waiting for the phone to ring all alone. Sometimes, when I’m like that, it feels like my flesh is rotting by the minute, little by little until I melt into this giant puddle of nothingness. That’s how it feels to be inside all the time, waiting for something that will never come,”

“I’ll be with you next time,” You said. “As long as you make me lunch again.”

“I’ll start another fire in the neighborhood if it means you’re staying for dessert.”

Sungchan didn’t come to the econometrics lecture the next day. Instead of eating lunch at the cafeteria or the restaurant, you went straight home from your shift at the library, opting for a light, frozen meal of pasta while you continued reading the daily paper with a cold cup of tea. Then, you stood out of your balcony and watched the glimmering moonlight reflected on the river, flowing with a harshness that you see during high tide. You saw a group of high school girls commuting on bicycles, each with a large sports back nervously balanced on their little baskets as they pedaled as fast as they could. One of them had a stack of CDs from a band you weren’t aware of. A couple was walking near the embankment filled with Zelkova trees, hand in hand as the girl adjusted her scarf to protect her from the cool breeze. Near the bench, there was a group of old men feeding pigeons with stale bread as they talked about inaudible qualms about recent politics. It was, in essence, the usual evening scene by the river, but you sat on your balcony with a newfound attention to detail, seeing the gleam of happiness in everyone’s eyes. Whether they were truly happy or just looked the part was something you couldn’t tell, but they did look happy on this quiet, pleasant autumn evening, and due to that, you felt a sense of loneliness that was new to you, as if you were the only outsider to this picturesque evening.

Come to think of it, the last scene you could remember being in was with Eunseok and his late girlfriend, playing board games in his room with a wafting feeling of true friendship. His girlfriend had died that night, and ever since, a cold, rigid border was placed between you and the rest of the world. This girl, who you weren’t even that close to, what was her existence to you? There was no adequate answer to such a question. All you knew with absolute certainty was that Eunseok’s girlfriend’s death had robbed you of a crucial part of your adolescence. But what that death meant to you and how it impacted you went far beyond your understanding.

You sat by your balcony for a long time, watching the people passing through your apartment, hoping, with the same loneliness, that Sungchan would be one of the people passing by. He never appeared, and when the next day came, you woke up early, read the papers, and went to campus early for your accounting lecture.

The next day, you ate a light lunch near the campus library, then used the telephone by the reception to call Sungchan to see if he was alone waiting for another call. You let the machine ring about fifteen times, but no one answered. You tried again in ten-minute intervals with the same outcome. Then, you took the bus back to your apartment, finding a letter written by Eunseok in your mailbox.

Thank you for your letter, Eunseok wrote. My family forwarded it to me, and it made me really happy. I’ve been making progress, and I’ve gotten to a point where I can write one back to you.

You quickly took off your jacket and sat at the foot of your bed. You left the windows open when you left, hearing the caws of crows sitting idly by the telephone poles near your building. The cool, autumn breeze swayed your sheer curtains, and you held the four pages from him under the moonlight, studying every word that was addressed to you. The colors around you suddenly gleamed with a spiritual vibrance, painting the dull stillness in your life with life the more you read into his letter. You closed your eyes and spent some time collecting your thoughts before picking up the next paragraph.

It’s been about four months since I’ve been here, he continued. I thought about you a lot, and the more I did, the more I began to feel that I was unfair to you. I think I should’ve been a better person, seeing the way I treated you was cruel.

This may not be a normal way of looking at things, though, since boys my age never see things as cruel or unjust. Young boys like me are quite indifferent about these things, and rather than being cruel, they care more about what satisfies them. I think these types of questions are often asked by women like you, but I can’t help but feel that it applies to me now as well. Because questions about satisfaction have become rather difficult for me to navigate now, I find myself asking questions about cruelty, like whether or not things have been a bit too cruel for me or if the world itself is unjustly cruel, to begin with. In any case, I think I was cruel to you, and because of that, I led you on and hurt you.

In doing so, I’d also led myself on and hurt myself just as deeply as I did to you. I don’t say this as a way to make myself feel better, but because it’s true. If I left a large wound inside you, just know that I’ve also left a wound in me as well. So please, don’t hate me. I’m a flawed person, much more flawed than you’ll ever realize. Which is why I don’t want you to hate me. Because if you were to do that, I would really fall apart. I can’t do you what you can do, letting things pass and waiting idly. I often envied how strong you are, which is probably why I led you on like that.

I might be looking into things a little too much. The therapy they do here is not anything too over-analytical, but several months of it makes you question things with a certain precision that you can’t find outside in the real world. I can’t tell if this type of analysis is making me see things a lot easier or making it harder for me, but regardless, I feel that I’m getting closer and closer to full recovery than I was before, and people here are telling me that it’s true. This is the first time in a while that I was able to simply sit down and write a letter without biting my fingernails about each word I think about. The one I wrote you about four months ago, before I underwent treatment, was something I had to force out of me (was it a bad read? I don’t know, I don’t remember much of it). This time, though, I’m calm. Very calm. The mountains have been doing wonders for me. It’s clean, it’s quiet from the hustle and the bustle of the city outside, and I’m completely cut off from everything, on a daily schedule of group therapy, personal therapy, and then doing some outdoor activities like hiking and calligraphy to take my mind off things. I think I needed a lot of those to fully function again, and I’ve missed you dearly—missed talking to you, and missed conveying all my thoughts to you, my only person left. I used to dread the feeling of going through my thoughts just to pick out a few things to say, but now, the thought of feeling so much again over one person overwhelms me with so much joy. So now, I’m writing to you. It’s about nine in the evening, and I’ve just had my dinner and my bath. Everything is quiet, and there are no lights outside. I usually see stars out my window, but the clouds make it hard to see.

People here are different. They talk of stars and constellations because they have nothing else to do, and they also talk about different kinds of birds, flowers, and insects that are in the mountains. When I talk to them, I grow aware of how ignorant I’ve been about the world around me, which is humbling, to say the least.

There are about forty people in this building, alongside twenty more for in-house staff and doctors. It’s such a vast, wide, open place, so this isn’t big at all. It’s so vast that the place might’ve been empty, filled with nature and quiet living—almost so that you feel that this is how people should’ve truly lived, not in the cramped life of the city or even our small town back in Jeju. I mean, of course, it’s not, but I suppose I get to live this way due to certain conditions.

In my free time, I do calligraphy with the other patients. I don’t really like moving my body as much as I used to when I was a teenager, and despite the beauty of the mountains, I find that I’m still a bit unwell to hike. Sometimes, the characters start to seem a bit jumbled up in my head whenever I try to paint a word or two, but I don’t know if it’s the medication or if it’s just the state that my mind is in when I’m concentrating on a specific word. Today, I tried “acceptance,” which ended up in a blotted mess. I told my doctor about this, and he told me that this blurriness I’m feeling sometimes is not something to be afraid of. It’s not a deformity or an issue I have to fix, but rather, it was something I had to get used to, that we have to accept these blurry visions that we see. Just like each person carries their own quirks and traits, people have their own little ways of feeling things, even if you think you have to correct them. You can’t force these things or else they go funny. Of course, he didn’t go into much detail and simplified a lot of the details, but I think what he was trying to say reached me. This blurriness might be permanent, and we all come here for some clarity in certain ways. As long as we’re here, we can live our lives without having to spread such blurriness to other people because we know that we are blurry in our existence. That’s what separates us from those that are outside: most people are unaware of things going blurry, while in this small, little mountain villa, it’s a necessity to have that blurriness in us. We are open about it all, and we live in peace and quiet so as to not inflict or spread this pain on each other.

Calligraphy aside, I also join in growing small crops like tomatoes, cucumbers, and spring onions to make the dishes the chefs serve us. We grow everything ourselves, and the people that are here know a lot about farming. They even read books on cultivation, and we have experts come by to give us talks from morning to night about how to properly harvest and take care of our crops. I’ve grown to love this little part of my life, and it’s been a great happiness of mine to watch what I planted grow into something more, getting bigger and bigger each day. Have you ever grown tomatoes? They sprout flowers and then turn into this small, green bulb just before becoming juicy and bright red.

The one problem about this place is that it’s so picturesque that you don’t want to leave, or rather, you’re afraid to leave. I feel like I’d lose the peace and calm that I’ve had here if I ever left, and even if I think I’ve recovered, I know that I’ll lose all that once I come out of it all. My doctor has been urging me to talk to other people—normal people in the normal world where you live. When he tells me that, the only person I see is you. I don’t really want to see my aunt or whatever family I have left. They never felt like that to me anyway, and hearing about them puts me in a bad mood. I have many things I want to say to you that cannot be put aside any longer, and I hope that you won’t feel burdened by what I have to say. I don’t want to be a burden to anyone, and I can sense how you feel about me. You make me very happy, and I hope that my happiness about your feelings for me has been conveyed in this letter. It’s what I need in my life. You’re what I need in my life. Please forgive me if I’ve written something that upsets you in this letter. As I’ve mentioned, I’m more flawed than you think I am.

Sometimes, I wonder. I wonder if I never moved out of our neighborhood, wonder if I never met my girlfriend, if we stayed in the same school and lived our lives together, commuting day to day from our houses to school and back. What would’ve happened? Of course, hindsight is never accurate, but I’m trying my hardest to not be cruel to you anymore. It’s all I can do, and I hope I conveyed at least some of my feelings through this letter.

This place has free visiting hours, unlike a normal hospital. As long as you make an appointment through the phone, you’re welcome at any time. You can even stay with me in my room. Please come and see me whenever you can. I really miss you.

Attached to this letter is a map of the place. I’m really sorry if this letter got a bit too long.

You read Eunseok’s letter through and through, reading it again until the sun rose. After that, you went out onto your balcony, watching the sun rise as you sipped a cup of coffee, ignoring the daily paper to read Eunseok’s letter again. You put the pages of his letter back in an envelope and neatly laid it on top of the dining table. Your name and your address, along with your apartment number, had been written out in perfectly messy handwriting, too messy, in fact, for a man who had been practicing calligraphy for about four months. You sat at your dining table, looking through every crevice of the envelope under the dim glow of the rising sun. The return address on the back was Ujeong Inn. An odd but appropriate name for a sanatorium, especially considering that ujeong means friendship. Leaving the letter on top of your dining table with a half-empty cup of coffee, you slipped on a loose shirt and went out. You were afraid that if you continued staying within the vicinity of the letter, you would lock yourself in your apartment and read it until you’d memorized its entire contents. You walked across the embankment of the Han River without a single destination in mind, just as you would when Eunseok was still in Seoul. You took many sharp turns, keeping the river within your sight, picturing every word that was written out in his letter while pondering each sentence in your head. When the sun fully rose up, you ran back to your apartment and made a call to Ujeong Inn. The high-pitched, nasally voice of a male receptionist answered and asked what you were calling about. You asked for Eunseok and if you could visit today or tomorrow, leaving your name and your address so the receptionist could call back later. The same man called the phone after thirty minutes. Eunseok was available, he said. You thanked the receptionist and hung up, shoving a few clothes and a copy of Adorno’s Aesthetic Theory in your backpack. Then, you opened the envelope again, reading Eunseok’s letter with a glass of wine, waiting for sleep to seep in. You stayed up until three in the morning, washed your face, and waited again while reading Eunseok’s letter until it was five, leaving your apartment to catch the first train to Gwanaksan.

You took the 5511 bus to get to Gwanaksan before noon, following the instructions that Eunseok put in the envelope after getting off at the Engineering building at Seoul University. Initially, you believed that Eunseok’s facility would be housed under Seoul University’s psychiatric department, but upon realizing it was an independent inn that acted under another medical center that specialized in psychiatric care, you were somewhat relieved. Most university hospitals operate under strict, often rigid conditions, and from hearing about Eunseok’s activities and the freedom he experienced at Ujeong Inn, it was a relief on your end to know that he was in good hands. The trip took a little over an hour, and before you knew it, the ridges and cracks of a great mountain range rose over your tiny little frame, an overwhelming sense of the power of nature striking you stuporous against its vast superiority. The autumn winds, which were calm in the city, seemed to roar and wail with the rustling of dense trees, home to a flora and fauna that was extinct in the asphalt and tar of the city. You began your twenty-minute hike up the inn after stopping by a small bookshop across the road, leaving with a pamphlet that showed specific landmarks around the mountain’s main trail, which was a straightforward, linear path that went uphill to the peak of the mountain range. Along the way, lush, large oak trees lined up the dirt path and the bridges that led to the inn, coupled with a plethora of loons and petrels that added a dash of color to the bright, blue sky. Most of the sun’s light was filtered through the foliage of greeneries, reflecting its pigmented tint in the shadows that cast downward onto the surface of your sneakers. No wonder it was such a quiet place, because the inn itself was basically deep inside the mountains!

A large, mounting metal gate covered the inside of the inn, along with thick oak tree stumps that acted as pillars to the entrance. The fact that the inn was situated in the middle of the forest made it seem like the whole world had been buried under it, lost to the civilization and rush of the busy streets in Seoul. Troughs and hills of mountain ranges continued to stack onto each other, giving you an image of an endless visage of scenic nature that you could never find elsewhere. On the left side of the gate, sparse fields of rice that were turning into a light shade of yellow spread out in all directions, cutting through a pristine, clear river that played with the rays of the sunlight. There were no houses around the area; the only thing you could see was a large sign that read UJEONG INN PRIVATE NO TRESPASSING.

At the crook of the gate was an empty post made of wood, its once bright yellow paint stripping off to show the bare, splintered ends underneath. The presence of a freshly crushed cigarette in an ashtray, a steaming tea cup, and a silent radio on the desk gave you clues about the guard’s whereabouts, and you gave yourself ten minutes to wait for anyone to come back. Soon enough, a guard dressed in a knockoff security vest slipped into his post and asked for your last name and the patient you were seeing. When you replied with Eunseok, he used the pager strapped onto his breast pocket, lifting the gate with a single button that whirred and disturbed the natural silence of the forest in quick succession.

Once you were inside, you were greeted with a small car park that had a minibus, a large Range Rover, and two dusty Toyota Corollas near the front door. The car park looked like it could hold around twenty cars at maximum, but for today, it seemed like there were only three vehicles there.

The actual inn itself resembled an old, Korean-styled house made with rustic, pointed clay laid out in a geometric, square pattern. It had a well-maintained Zen garden with shiny pebbles as floors lining a small footpath with stone lanterns. Your guess about the place was that it was once a country house for Japanese or Korean aristocrats during the occupation period, considering the vast, four-story height that it boasted. There was something simple and sleek about its design, but there was also a slight tackiness in the bright red and green paints that adorned its walls.

Upon reaching a large, stone gate, you were greeted by a woman in a nurse’s scrub. “Are you here for Eunseok?”

You nodded, and she smiled while guiding you inside the building to sit on a small, beige sofa. As she left to use the plastic answering machine on the reception desk, you took the straps of your backpack off your shoulders, slumping it right next to you as you surveyed the place. There was an eerie cleanliness to it, an uncanny luster that reflected your face in all the furniture and the items strewn around the lobby. The paintings were minimal in color, sometimes having none at all, showcasing simple shapes on a white background. The floor was polished to perfection, almost as if a shiny, waxy sheen had been above your soles to ensure that you wouldn’t leave any dirt as you walked along, absorbing all the dirt and mud that you accumulated to hide it from the cleanliness of the entire building.

“He’ll be here soon,” The nurse reassured you with another gleaming smile. You nodded, taking note of the deathly quiet that surrounded you after you finished speaking. There were no sounds of any kind, only a white, static silence that murmured underneath your ear canals. In this building, the people, animals, insects, and every microorganism were all sound asleep, even in what should’ve been a busy afternoon.

Before long, you heard a pair of weak, rubber soles gliding through the slippery floors, and Eunseok was in front of you in a loose shirt that was buttoned halfway. He sat next to you on the beige sofa, its weight only slightly shifting from the impact. At first, you thought he was a hallucination that you conjured up from the fatigue of traveling all the way up into the mountains, but it was the real Eunseok.

“Tired?” He whispered. You shook your head and gave him a gentle smile, head still shaking slightly from the apparition that was Eunseok. You wanted to reach out to him, feel his fingers against yours to truly confirm that he was real, but you decided against it. You still didn’t know if he was in a state to hold your hand, let alone be here right next to you to talk to you, but an unwavering calm aura that wafted around him gave you the reassurance that you were at least allowed to converse with him once more.

“How have you been, Eunseok?”

“Good,” He replied with a little, ghostly smile. “I’m sorry, but I’m not supposed to be here right now. I’m supposed to be back in one of the recreational rooms to do some calligraphy. I just slipped out for a minute, and I have to go back right away, so I’m sorry if I look like a mess right now.”

“Not at all,” You said, doing your best to reassure him with a gentler, softer tone. “I think I like your clean cut.”

Eunseok’s hair was perfectly trimmed to ensure none of his strands reached the collar of his shift, bangs pristinely sliced just above the edge of his eyebrows. It suited his face very well, framing his angular features and accentuating the roundness of his eyes. He looked as if he had always worn his hair that way, a handsome rendition of an aristocratic schoolboy during the height of the occupation period.

“I had one of the nurses cut it for me, but do you really think it looks nice?”

“Yes, I do.”

“My aunt said it’s too… childish.” He ruffled his hair and let some of the strands topple over each other, creating a mop of disheveled, black hair that was tousled meekly.

“I wanted to see you just as you came here, not that I had anything urgent to say, but I just wanted to see your face and get used to having you around. If not, then I might have some trouble getting to know you again, even if we’ve practically known each other since birth. I’m just so bad with people, and I think the desolate nature of the mountains made it worse for me. I can hardly recall my aunt’s face now, and I don’t even know what my parents look like anymore,”

“Well, do you think the treatment’s doing you any good?”

“I think so, yeah,” He replied, fiddling with his hair again. “But I have to go.”

You saw him off to the recreational room, and before he slid the door open, he took your hands in his, studying each crevice and line in your palm with his slender fingers.

“I really wanna thank you for coming all the way here to see me. This makes me very happy, but I don’t want you to feel like I forced you to come here. The last thing I wanna be is a burden, and this is a special place far removed from what you’re used to. If you feel uncomfortable or lost in here, please tell me and be honest about it. I won’t be hurt by it at all. In this place, we can be completely honest with each other.”

“Of course, I’ll be honest,” You said with certainty.

Eunseok’s hands trembled as he gently took your shoulder, pushing the small of your back in his direction until your head was leaning on his chest. When you circled your arms around his back, he took his chin and softly placed it on the crown of your head, staying like that for a time and absorbing your body’s temperature into his cold touch. Holding him made you feel warm in your chest, and he suddenly stood up without saying a word, disappearing into the recreation room as quietly as he had come down to the reception desk.

With Eunseok gone, you went back to the reception and took a nap on the sofa. You didn’t intend to, but you fell into a deep sleep that you hadn’t been able to experience in a long time, filled with a sense of Eunseok’s presence. In an instant, you were transported back into the small comforts of his apartment, in the bathroom where his toothbrush and toiletries were, with the library of books that were on his shelf, and in his sparsely decorated bedroom, lying next to him in his bed. Sleeping soundly in his apartment, you felt the fatigue from your body disappear bit by bit, dreaming of an albatross flying in the distance, in the dim glow of the summer sunset in Jeju.

When you woke up, the clock on top of the reception desk points at six in the evening.

The lights had changed into a dim, yellow glow, the wind had died into a silent stillness sans the ruffling of tree leaves, and the shape of the clouds was distorted into lines and streaks that symmetrically bordered the moonlight. You wiped off the sweat on your forehead with the hem of your shirt, quickly changing into a long-sleeved sweater in the absence of people. You went into the kitchen by following the signs, getting a paper cup, and filling it to the brim with water while watching the night sky fade into a dark abyss in the absence of light in the forest. There was no sign of anyone around, and no sound penetrated the thick walls of silence that surrounded the entire building. It felt as though you were isolated in a void.

“Hey, sorry for being gone for a while,” Eunseok’s voice was barely a whisper, and it startled you to the point where you dropped your cup. He tried to pick it up, but you swiftly bent down in a panic, using a crumpled pile of paper towels to soak up the remaining water that spilled out of your cup. Your copy of Adorno’s Aesthetic Theory slipped out of your backpack’s front pocket, and he picked it up to hand it back to you.

“How could you bring such a book in a place like this?” He joked. He was right, of course; all you could do was shrug.

“I don’t know, it reminded me of the sort of books you would read back when you were in Dongguk.”

To this, he chuckled—the first you’ve heard in a long time. Almost so that it shocked you to the spine, giving you an electrifying tingle every time you heard a tingle or a shift of pitch in his voice. He took your hand and dragged you to a large dining hall on the main floor, passing you a tray filled with lush, green salads, boiled vegetables, rice, and seaweed soup.

“I’m sorry, did you want something else?” He asked. “There’s some pasta, and you can always go eat outside if you wanna go for a smoke,”

“I’m alright, Eunseok, I quit in June.” You replied with a small, soft smile. His eyes widened with an unreadable expression. Then, he pressed his lips in a firm, thin line, averting his gaze back to his tray of food.

Twenty other people entered the dining hall, while a handful began to pack their trays and left. Apart from the variety of ages, you pictured Sungchan’s private all-boys school in the dining hall, filled with men in hospital gowns instead of uniforms and speaking in a much lower volume than a large room of electric adolescent boys. There were no loud voices or whispers, nor was there anyone laughing out loud or crying. There was no yelling, and the only type of conversation that was present in the room was hushed and serene, with people either nodding to each other or softly humming with interest. You couldn’t tell what anyone was saying, but the way they spoke reminded you of the secret conversations you would see among girls in your time at the dormitory in your first year, confiding deep, dark secrets in the form of low whispers. You wondered if Eunseok spoke like this with the people he did calligraphy with, and you felt a twinge of loneliness mixed with jealousy at the proximity that the people here had with Eunseok.

Two doctors sat behind your table with Eunseok, one a sheepish, nervous balding man with glasses in a white, neatly-pressed lab coat and the other a much younger-looking man with slightly greying hair, donned in bright blue scrubs and a surgical mask resting on his chin. The two were immersed in a battle of nodding at each other, with the occasional ah and oh really thrown back and forth. You listened to the way they spoke, and the more you allowed yourself to be a part of their conversation, the more it became apparent to you that the bald man was a doctor and the younger man was on his last leg of residency.

Nobody in the dining hall paid any special attention to you, nor did they realize you existed at all, almost as if your being there was a natural part of their daily lives in the mountains. It was either that, or the sheer vastness of the nature around them that made people seem almost insignificant—small and irrelevant.

Just then, the balding man in a white lab coat was now behind you, tapping you on your shoulder.

“How long are you here for?” He asked.

“Only two nights,” You replied firmly. “I’ll be leaving via the first bus in the morning on Sunday.”

“Well, if you ever come back, then do so in the winter. It’s really nice here in the autumn, but the snow caps on the mountian ranges adds an even nicer touch to the scenery.”

“I’ll probably be out of here by then,” Eunseok interjected with a forceful, yet gentle smile.

“But still, the winter makes the place really nice.” He repeated. You weren’t too sure if he was a doctor anymore.

Once the bald man left with the younger man in scrubs, you turned your attention back to Eunseok, who finished what was on his tray. His slender fingers trembled as he fidgeted with an empty bowl, unease written all over his face.

“What do you talk about up here?” You asked. Eunseok hummed, pondering your question as if it was a bizarre one to ask.

“What do you mean? We just talk about normal things like our daily routine, the books we’ve read, tomorrow’s plans, stuff like that. Don’t tell me you think people here talk about crazy things while jumping up and down with an imaginary marching band!”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean,” You replied hastily, but Eunseok didn’t seem to stare at you the way he did whenever you felt you said something gravely wrong. Instead, he folded his arms and smiled at you, leaning his back on the plastic railings of the chair.

“If you’re thinking about the noise level, then it’s just what it is. People talk quiet here, and there’s no need for you to talk so loud or draw any attention to yourself.”

“I guess not,”

You took Eunseok’s tray and stacked his empty plates with yours, clearing the table as he dabbed his mouth with a folded handkerchief. When you put the trays back to a small window into the chef’s kitchen, you found yourself surprised by how much you’ve missed the low hums of people or the white noise that buzzed in one ear and out throughout your daily life. You wanted to hear boisterous laughter and people screaming for no reason, saying ridiculous things that only made sense after a few bottles of beer. Sure, it was the kind of environment you lived in since moving out of Jeju for university, but sitting with Eunseok in an eerily quiet dining hall made you uneasy and anxious. You couldn’t relax, and the more people began to leave the dining hall, the more you likened the experience to that of an empty art exhibit, where the people eating were caricatures of what an alien species thought human life was like.

Instead of going back to the guest room in the left wing of the inn, Eunseok insisted that you stay in his room while he finished his bath, which was located in the opposite side of the guest rooms. He had his own shower in his room, but he insisted that you use his.

“The thing is, most of the patients here are men, and I’m not too sure about using the staff bathroom since I don’t know where it is.” He explained, before making the trek to the other side of the room with his toiletries.

After he was gone, you decided to play the first record that was on his shelf, unaware that it was his own copy of the Johnny Cash album that he gave you for Christmas—the very same one that he cried to on his birthday. To think that it had only been six months since you celebrated Eunseok’s birthday and slept with him was a puzzling realization. It felt more remote than it was.

Maybe it was because you thought about it too much, distorting your sense of time and rearranging the timeline of memories in your head.

The moonlight’s low beam was fluorescent enough for Eunseok’s room, leading you to turn his lamp off, legs streteched below his study desk as you immersed yourself into Johnny Cash’s voice. Shadows danced around the white walls of Eunseok’s room, playing with the items that were on his table and turning them into random blotted patterns across the room like a Rorscharch test. Taking a shiny metal flask from your backpack, you allowed the taste of warm wine to sit on your tongue, swirling it around and letting the warmth spread throughout your body. After a few sips, you slipped the flask back into your backpack, body slightly swaying with the shadows that continued to dance in Eunseok’s room.

“It’s so dark here,” Eunseok suddenly murmured. Instead of standing up to greet him, your arms and legs felt heavier than usual, sticking like glue to the edge of his wooden seat. His light, wispy chuckles echoed back and forth between your eardrums in a trance-like reverie, making it harder for you to believe that Eunseok’s presence was indeed, real.

“I wanted to turn the lights off because I haven’t seen such a bright, full moon in a long time,” You explained, feeling the apples of your cheeks for more warmth.

Eunseok brought a large, white candle from the kitchen, striking a match to light the wick. Its bright, orange glow swayed with the shadows that it illuminated, further distorting the lamp and books strewn around Eunseok’s room. As the two of you sat facing each other and the candle amidst the disquiet silence of the mountain, it slowly began to feel like the candle transported you and Eunseok to the edge of the world, far, far away from anything that could disturb you. Eunseok shifted closer until his arms touched yours, causing you to flinch.

“You smell like wine,” He laughed, resting his head on the crook of your shoulder.

“I still have some in my flask if you’re allowed to drink in here,” You replied with a blase hint of surprise.

“We’re obviously not allowed to drink in here, but it’s fine. If the nurses and doctors can smoke, then we can also break the rules, no?”

“Right,”

“I even have drinking parties sometimes with the guy next door,” Eunseok murmured shyly, concealing a hint of mischief in his tone.

You took the flask out of your backpack again and handed it to Eunseok, who slowly took the cap off and placed the opening of the flask between his lips. When the record ended, he took the flask in front of your eyes and shook it, signaling its emptiness. You took the flask back into your backpack, and Eunseok began humming the tune of a nursery rhyme that was all too familiar to you.

“I still think Johnny Cash’s version is the best one,” you remembered him saying at fourteen, messing up the English lyrics to “My Grandfather’s Clock” so badly that it came out in a jumbled mess. A year later, when he turned fifteen, his voice was a little too deep to reach the higher parts of the song. Since then, he opted to hum it every now and then, leaving a distant performance of intimate warmth blended with a sorrowful loneliness that could only be heard in the timbers of his voice.

He hummed the song again, closing his eyes as he buried his face closer to your neck. Eyes on the candle, feeling the wine circulate across your veins, listening to Eunseok’s peaceful humming, you felt all the tension inside you slip away. When he finished the song, a sheer silence engulfed the two of you in the stillness of the moonlight.

“I don’t know why, but for a nursery rhyme, the song always makes me feel so sad,” said Eunseok. “I think it’s because I can see a giant, tall, old clock, just me and the thing in a vast, empty room with nobody else.”

Eunseok, as per the letter he sent you, did look a lot healthier than before. Instead of the ghastly pallor that you were used to, his skin was kissed with the sun’s golden glow, his body firm and rigid with oozing vigor from all the exercise and farming he does in the inn. His eyes still contained the same, deep pools that always put you in a reverie, and his plump, luscious lips still trembled with hesitance, but there was an overall change in him that evolved him into a mature man. The sharp, thin edge of his jaw had disappeared into a more inviting, soothing calm. You couldn’t put a finger on how you felt about this newfound view of Eunseok, but it moved you to think that someone could change so much in just under half a year. You felt even more drawn to him than ever before, and never again would he have the brooding mystique of his former self, one that set him apart from the rest of the pack wherever he went.

Eunseok had asked you about how you spent the last six months, demanding every detail of your life since she was institutionalized. You discussed your political activities in detail with Mirae, and how the riots have subsided since the June 29 declaration. While Mirae was a recurring topic of conversation between the two of you, you never told Eunseok about Mirae’s involvement with the New Korean Democratic Party or the underground Marxist lectures. To him, Mirae was simply an eccentric roommate notorious for sleeping around with as many guys as she could. Explaining this new side of Mirae to Eunseok proved difficult, especially with the complicated nature of her unique philosophy and what she believed in. Despite it all, the way you wanted to describe Mirae seemed to reach Eunseok, and you hid any mention of Sungchan from him.

“Wow, I didn’t know Mirae was a staunch Marxist,” Eunseok cooed. “Do you still like her after all that?”

“I don’t know,” You replied. “I don’t think I do, and Mirae is beyond liking or not liking. She doesn’t try to be liked or unliked, and I guess her honesty drew me in, but I wouldn’t say I like her.”

“Honest while sleeping with all those men? You’re weird for that,” Eunseok said, stifling a loud chuckle. “How many boys has she slept with?”

“God, I don’t know. I haven’t been getting updates from her lately, but last I’ve heard, she’s nearing one hundred.”

“And you call that honest? Is she being honest with those other men?”

“Yeah, for her, it’s sort of like the increasing number makes the crime less meaningful in some ways. Like, if she told a guy from the get-go that she was sleeping with other people, then to her, that nullifies whatever personal attachment that she might’ve had with the man she was sleeping with.”

“I think she’s a lot more flawed than me,” Eunseok murmured after thinking about your description of Mirae.

“I think so, too,” You replied with a nod. “But she’s the type of person way too logical for her own good. If you brought her here, I don’t think she’d last a day. She’d crack the code, tell the doctors she knew what they were doing, then leave after lecturing them on how she already understood her flaws and how to fix them. People don’t like her, but people definitely respect her in some way or another.”

“I guess I’m the opposite of her, then,” Eunseok said. “I still don’t understand what they’re trying to do to me here, which makes me think that I don’t understand anything about myself.”

“It’s not because you’re not logical or clever.” You explained, grazing your fingers on his tanned arms. “I think you’re quite normal, and even I have things that I don’t understand about myself. I think everyone does to a certain extent, and that’s what makes us normal.”

Eunseok rested his head on your lap, the same pearly eyes staring straight into yours. His thumb grazed the edge of your lips, but instead of leaning forward, he remained still, head firmly pressed on your thighs.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever slept with,” He whispered, watching you with clear eyes. You kept your lips pressed firmly, rigid in your seated position. Sweaty palms seeped through the carpeted floor, becoming one with its acrylic fibers.

“I was ready to sleep with her, I really was.” Eunseok started, fiddling with the ends of your hair, making your body slowly lean closer to him. “We wanted each other, that much was real. We tried everything we could—lube, moisturizer, oils—but it never worked. I don’t know if she was afraid of losing her virginity, but I wasn’t. Even then, I couldn’t get hard, and she couldn’t get wet.”

You were now lying next to Eunseok on his bedroom floor, a flash of his room back in Jeju fusing with visions of his apartment in Seoul scattering through the white walls around you.

“It always hurt me because she was always dry, and of course, because I couldn’t get hard, there was simply no way I could get inside her. We tried masturbating; she would jack me off, and I would use my fingers to play with her, but even that started to hurt, so we stopped.”

You nodded in silence. Eunseok cast his gaze at the moon, which started to look bigger and bigger between the shiny luster of his pearlescent eyes.

“I never wanted to tell you this, but I came here to be honest. That night on my birthday, I was rock hard when you walked into my apartment. I’d been getting hard every time I saw you. I just wanted to hold you in my arms, take off our clothes, touch you all over, and fuck you then and there. I’ve never felt that way before, and I guess it confused me because I loved her so much.”

“And not me, right?” You said, trying to hide the bitterness and pain in your throat. “You want to know why you were so turned on by me even though you didn’t love me like that, right?”

“I’m sorry,” Eunseok repeated. “I know we’ve been friends for a long time, but she and I had a special bond, almost as if we were conjoined to the hip at birth. It was like we couldn't let each other go when I moved out of town and into her neighborhood. We were always together, and we understood each other perfectly. When we kissed, I knew we were connected somehow, maybe through an invisible string or a spiritual destiny. She ran to me and cried like a baby when she had her first period, and she was the first person I talked to when I had my first wet dream. After she died, I didn’t know how else I could’ve been able to relate to other people—including you, and I’ve known you longer than I’ve ever known her. I didn’t know how to love another person the way I loved her.”

Eunseok remained silent for a while, then suddenly burst into tears, trembling in spasmodic tremors. He buried his face under your chest, gripping your waist tight as his hot breath tickled your abdomen, sporting the same suffocating violence that he had brought with him on the night of his birthday. You caressed his back, smoothing the loose wrinkles of his shirt as he clung to you like a baby. For what felt like a few hours, you held Eunseok in your arms, soothing his back every now and then whenever he would wail or hurl, his cries piercing your heart in palpable agony. His candle was now extinguished, and the moonlight was covered with thick, dark clouds condensed in the deepest shade of navy. The night was chilly with silence, slicing through the air with a whir of disquiet that spoke louder than Eunseok’s cries. The mountains were so quiet that they seemed to drown out any noise that stirred its way, the winds flowing from the curtains swaying all sense of sound back to its earthen ridges, to be absorbed in the soil as nature hurls back in a stupefied haze. Eunseok slowly climbed up, tugging at your shirt before planting a soft kiss beneath your ear amidst sniffles.

“Sorry,” his voice barely a whisper. “Sometimes, I get so confused that I don’t know what’s happening.”

“I’ve been getting that a lot recently, too,” You replied, returning the gesture by grazing your lips on his cheek. You felt his lips curve into a small smile, and then he placed his palms on your temple, attempting to massage whatever fear and anxieties you had. He gently twisted his hands into yours, intertwining his fingers in the webbed crevices of your palms. Then, he softly tugged at your arm, leading you to his bed, where his entire body lay languid, clinging to your side.

“I’d like to hear more about your life here. What you do, who you meet, everything. Of course, if you’re not tired.” You asked.

Eunseok smiled and began talking about his daily routine in the inn, speaking in short phrases that were crystal clear. Wake up at six. Feed the cats before breakfast. Go to the cafeteria and eat. Clean out the hallways. Water and tend to the crops grown in the garden. Trim the garden’s bushes. Pick some ready vegetables. Before his lunch, he would have an hour and a half with his doctor. In the afternoon, he spent most of his time reading or doing calligraphy as a group activity. Sometimes, he would dabble in cooking classes.

“I started playing the piano again,” he said. “There’s a music teacher that comes from Seoul University every week, and sometimes, we all take turns as teachers or students depending on our expertise. I don't have any, but I teach literature to some patients when I can. Some of the patients who specialize in a language like French or English step in to teach for an hour or so, and I’ve picked up some techniques on how to knit, so if you could bring the scarf that I gave you last Christmas, I can adjust it so it won’t be too big for you.”

“That sounds fun!” You exclaimed in a whisper.

“What do you think you’d teach if you were here?” He asked. You pondered at the thought, realizing that economics wasn’t necessarily the most therapeutic topic to teach at a place like Ujeong Inn. Ujeong was home to those who wanted to be tethered from the real world, and something like economics was too tied to real events that broke the facade of a peaceful commune—a society of its own that didn’t need to worry about money or value.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I think I have nothing to offer,” you finally replied.

“I’ve been putting a lot more effort into studying here than I ever did when I was a student at university. I work really hard to understand new concepts and even complete whatever homework I get on time. It’s nice, and I’ve grown to enjoy it.”

“So, what do you do after dinner?”

“Read books, talk with some of the patients, go to their rooms, and play board games. I also go to the music room and play piano, and at night, I like to sit down and work on my autobiography,”

“Autobiography?”

“No, I’m just kidding. We sleep at ten sharp. It’s a pretty healthy lifestyle, no?” He laughed. You stared at the small, analog clock on top of Eunseok’s desk. It was a few minutes before nine-thirty.

“Isn’t your bedtime coming soon?”

“We can stay up late today. I haven’t seen you in so long, you know? I wanna talk more, so please, talk.”

“Sometimes, when I’m all alone, I think about the old days,” you explained. “When it was the three of us in your room. Do you remember when I had your girlfriend struggling to ride the back of my bike to visit you at the hospital near the sea? I know we pretty much live right next to it, but that one was right next to the shores.”

“Yes! It was for my appendicitis surgery!” Eunseok recalled with a smile. “I saw you struggle to pedal through my window, and you brought me cake, but it was all smushed up! It was practically inedible, but I tried to smash it up even more like baby food and swallowed it all up! God, that seemed like such a long time ago,”

“I think you were trying to write a novel then. Your desk was filled with loose-leaf paper, pretty much scattered across the room!”

“I like to think that there’s a time in a boy’s life where all he does is write and think,” Eunseok nervously uttered. “What made you think of that all of a sudden?”

“I guess I just miss the smell of the sea a lot. This year, it rained a lot more in the autumn, and for some reason, I can just smell the salt of the sea every time it rains. Before I knew it, I would spend my mornings thinking about that specific hospital visit. Did she ever visit you afterward?”

“Absolutely not! We had a huge fight after the two of you visited, and that was it. She never showed her face in the hospital again. Terrible! Something about hating hospitals did it to her.” Eunseok laughed. “She was always a kid about it. Nobody likes hospitals, but you swallow that feeling if it means making the one that’s actually stuck there feel better. I don’t know, she just didn’t get it.”

“But she wasn’t so bad when she was with me.”

“It’s because you were there,” he said, a growing edge to his timbre. “I know it may seem like the two of you weren’t that close, but she was very fond of you. When it was just me, she struggled to keep her weak side hidden. Something to do with your presence made her hide that side of her very well. With me, her mood switches with a simple snap of a finger. She let her guard down in front of me a lot, and she could go from talking about the weather to throwing a long, screaming tantrum. It happens all the time, and has been happening since we met. She did try her best to change, though.”

Eunseok readjusted his position, lifting his head from the crown of your head to face you. His arms went loose around your waist, and his palms were no longer firmly pressed on your back.

“She tried hard, but it was no good for her at all. It’s like the more she tried, the angrier and moodier she’d get. She was already a beautiful person, but she never found the confidence to realize that. It was always ‘I need to change, and I need to change fast,’ always thinking about how to better herself every single second. How awful!”

“I don’t think I’m the best judge of that, but now that I think of it, she did always show her best side when I was around. Whenever I’d come visit your room, she was always smiling, doing her very best to join and play the board games you’d pick out. She wasn’t a sore loser at all, either, and took punishments with grace.”

Eunseok’s smile grew brighter, eyes crinkling between his lids and his cheeks. “She’d be thrilled to hear that, you know? Even if she never made it obvious, you were her only friend—apart from me, of course.”

“And both of you were my only friends,” you replied. “I don’t think I can call anyone that now.”

“That’s why things felt so right when the three of us were together. I was with you, and I could see her best. Whenever you’re around, I can stop worrying about her and relax, see her have fun like a teenage girl. Our board game sessions were my favorite moments in life. I don’t know about you, though.”

“If I’m being honest, I was restless. I could never tell what she was thinking, and I was always worried if she didn’t want me there or anything. Something about being a third wheel and making things more awkward, I guess.”

“Well, to me and her, it was the perfect circle. So perfect, in fact, that we knew it was never going to last forever.”

He sat up, back resting against the bedframe. There was a shadow cast over his eyes from his bangs, which hung loosely on top of his brows. The moonlight illuminated his cheeks in a way that showed its hidden sorrows, dyeing him in blue hues as he put his thumbs together, circling them back and forth. He started, then stopped, his breath falling short whenever he opened his mouth. Then, he looked at you with a sad smile, eyes filled with an ocean of sorrow wallowing within the single tear that rolled down his cheek.

“Sorry, can we talk about something cheerful now?”

Having moved out of your dorm in first year, nothing you could talk about was cheerful anymore. Peanut was most certainly out of your life, and Mirae had gone from an odd roommate with a penchant for sleeping around into a tour de force of complex, contradicting ideals. The best you could do now was talk about the people you would observe through the balcony that you and Eunseok used to share by the Han River: the group of old men who would feed pigeons and talk about their life, the joggers who brought dogs without leashes to run across the embankment with them, the vibrant high schoolers in bicycles who did tricks with tennis rackets strapped on their backs, and the plethora of oddballs you’d see at night, drunkenly singing hymns from a bygone era. To you, they were nothing but a routine, but the little tidbits of life you encountered made Eunseok smile. To think that he once shared such realities that were now foreign and new to him baffled you. After that, Eunseok attempted to impersonate some of the patients he encountered at the inn. Then, a giant yawn preceded his collapse into a deep, peaceful slumber.

The room continued to glow white from the moonlight, illuminating its rich, heavenly light on Eunseok’s face. Whenever you closed your eyes, you could still hear the faint echo of Eunseok’s low hum, the tune to “My Grandfather’s Clock” faintly leaving your eyes, lingering with a slight reverberation until it completely disappeared into the empty silence of the dark night. That night, when sleep finally carried you in Eunseok’s arms, you dreamed of the sea. It wasn’t the same one in Jeju, with its calm, gentle waves, the smell of brine and wet sand wafting through your nose, and dark skies that swirled into a misty pastiche of white, ocean waves. The breeze that the waves carried was cold to the touch, wrapping its layers of chills around you in a shrill, almost lifeless temperature that made you taste what death would’ve felt like. No matter how much the winds howled and the waves crashed, though, the sea itself remained calm. Why was that? Your ears could hear the roars of crashing waves immolating into a cacophony of distant cries, and yet the sea was flat like a river, calmly carrying its waters back to shore. You tried to throw a stone, and it only skipped three times before sinking into the deep end, bouncing back to the sand where your feet were.

When you opened your eyes, you felt as if you were still within the world of your dreams, Eunseok’s room drowning in the calm waves of the sea. The dark skies trembled with the wavering shadows cast by the bright moonlight, and on reflex, you stirred up and got out of bed, searching for the stone that you had just thrown into the ocean. What you saw instead was an image of Eunseok, who was also awake, sitting out the windowsill. He had drawn his knees up to his chin, shoulders relaxed in a hunched state. Judging from the glow of the moon and the color of the skies, you assumed it was about dawn, perhaps four in the morning. A violent thirst clutched your throat, but you remained still and watched Eunseok by the window. He wore the same, blue pajamas that he wore before the two of you went to bed, and his hair was held in place by a small, glowing hairpin, reflecting the glow of the moonlight with his forehead.

Eunseok stayed frozen in place, his pearlescent eyes directly staring at the moonlight. In his hunched state, he looked like a vulnerable prey hiding from a formidable monster in the sea. The outline of his nose and lips were accentuated with the shadowplay of the moon, forming a fragile, yet crystal clear imagination of his dreamy features, almost pulsating with the gentle beat of his heart. His lips pursed open, as if he were murmuring his deepest secrets to the night. The hungry thirst you felt was drying up your throat, but in the stillness of the night, every single noise you made was bound to reach his ears. A single sigh was all it took for him to quickly spin his head towards you, feet gliding back to the bed as his large, pearly eyes were fixated on you. You stared back at him, but there was a ghastly transparency in his eyes revealing a portal to another world, and the more you peered into him, the more you began to realize that the portal led you into an empty husk of nothingness. Your figure was no longer reflected in his pupils; he was light years away from you.

When you reached out to touch him, he trembled, quickly running away and disappearing into the shadows. Then, he was on top of you, all seven buttons on his blue pajama top unbuttoned, revealing a lanky, tanned chest bathing in the soft light of the moon. His body had the heartbreaking shine of newborn flesh, the shadowplay revealing all the details of his skin in perfect clarity; the curves of his nipples; the hollow lines of his collar bones; the depth and pulsating muscles of his arms; the soft indent of his navel; his protruding hip bones; shapes which keep morphing with the light and shadows that danced on the surface of his body. He was simply nothing like the body that you held when he cried with agony that night, all imperfections no longer marring his flesh. He was beautiful, of course, but there was a fragile rigidity that clamped him shut, making the act of holding him alone awkward. Even if all you were doing with him that night was joining your body with his, there was an inkling of thought that consumed you. For no matter how much you had him inside you, Eunseok could have never shared his imperfections with you. The only thing you could’ve done was hold him tightly, feel what he truly felt inside you, letting all of his sorrow and heartbreak out into your caverns.

Eunseok’s body before you was different; reborn through the many phases of the moon. All sense of boyishness had been stripped away since his girlfriend’s death, replaced by the metamorphosis of a mature man. There was nothing sexual about it, and you could only stare in astonishment at the perfection of each detail that he showed you—a spectacle of raw authenticity. He stripped his pajama pants down, exposing his naked truth. Then, he disappeared once more, this time out the door, leaving it swinging ajar.

You stayed sitting upright on the bed for what felt like a very long time, until it occurred to you that you had to leave. You took your jeans on the floor and hastily buckled them to your hips, silently rushing to the kitchen in the main hall for a glass of water. You took the time to stretch your amrs and legs, letting the tension of your dream go while you thought of the vivid richness of what you saw. You went back to bed and found Eunseok sleeping soundly, careful not to stir anything. Sleep never came until dawn gave you a taste of the first orange luster of sunlight, letting all the shadows from the moon disappear all at once.

“Good morning,” You felt a cold hand touch your cheek.

“Good morning.” You replied. Eunseok had to hold your hand and support your weight all the way down to the dining hall. Your eyes never met his, and you tried your best to feel the touch of his skin, comparing it with what you saw that night.

“How did you sleep?” He asked.

“Alright, I guess,” you said. He tilted his head in concern, hesitating before rushing to the start the kettle. Next to him was a large box filled with teabags and instant coffee pouches. “Your eyes are red, though, did you not get any sleep at all?”

“I woke up in the middle of the night,

“Oh no, is it because of me? Did I snore?” Eunseok asked with concern.

“No, not really, I just had a weird dream about you. Something about us on the beach back in Jeju, this time as adults.” You lied with a smile. At first, you thought that Eunseok had caught on, acting embarrassed about revealing his body to you, and then, you realized that the transparency you saw was gone, your silhouette hazily etched into his irises.

“What was it about?”

“I don’t know, just us walking down the beach as usual when we were children,”

“Did anything happen after that?

You shook your head, letting the discomfort of the dining hall’s plastic chair ground you to the earth. Eunseok brought a tray of toasted bread, butter, and a salad, and you couldn’t bring yourself to touch your food.

“We should go back to Jeju together sometime, when we’re both not like this,” Eunseok said hastily, as if he was in a rush.

“I think we should,” you replied, not knowing what to say. There was a slight hesitance upon Eunseok bringing Jeju and the past up a lot more than he did before, but you supposed Ujeong was a place where he had to confront all of that—even if it hurt him in the process.

“I know it isn’t much, but would you like to go to a picnic with me? There are no seas out here or anything, but it might make us remember a time when everything was alright, you know, when we were both just kids growing up in Jeju,” He asked almost pleadingly.

“I’d love that,” you replied with a smile.

“I have to tell the superiors that I want to cancel my schedule for you, though, is that alright?”

“Of course, take as much time as you need,”

After breakfast, Eunseok took you to a room on the other side of the building. It was a spacious enclave with scratching posts on every corner, scattered around with many cat toys that had vibrant colors of feathers on them. Two men who looked a little bit older than Eunseok were already present, feeding the cats and playing with them. One of them was rolling on the floor while a large, tabby cat had tangled its claws in his hair. Eunseok muttered a small good morning to the pair, and they returned the greeting with glee. The windows were large, encompassing the entire room as the curtains were drawn to reveal the back garden, which was well-manicured with a varying flora of flowers. Spotting Eunseok, a slim, black cat began to strut towards him, rubbing its head on his ankles. He crouched down and gently patted the cat’s head, watching it roll over to reveal its pale underbelly with low purrs.

“Do you do this every morning?” You asked Eunseok.

“Yep, the facility says petting cats or any animal is good for you, so they try to make it the first thing we think of when we wake up,” he explained, scratching the cat on the bottom of its chin. “I don’t know why, but the entire inn has a fondness for cats. I was indifferent to them before I came here, but I see why they’re so loveable now. They’re not like dogs who demand love, they just come to you when they know they can get love.”

After quickly telling the cat to go away, he went to one of four litter boxes and scooped up its droppings, shoveling them into a large, plastic bin nearby. He then replaced the litter box with new, clean cat litter, his task quickly disrupted by a beige white berman with deep, blue eyes. When you tried to pick it up to assist Eunseok in his task, the cat retaliated by scratching your hands.

“Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you, even if he looks like he would. Kokuma is one of the friendlier cats here.” He picked Kokuma from you, its demeanor immediately changing upon being held from Eunseok. Rather than the slanted, deep blue hues of wariness that Kokuma gave you, the black, shiny luster in his pupils grew to encompass its entire eyes, softening into large pools of twinkling yearning. Eunseok’s smile at you while he stroked Kokuma’s chin was so radiant and blinding, carrying an infectious weight to it that made you grin from ear to ear. You were still wondering about your dream and whether that was the real Eunseok or not, but you still weren’t certain if the Eunseok that was in front of you, filled with the vibrance of life, was the same one that coldly showed his raw nakedness that night.

“I’ve started to like mornings a lot more, you know?”

“Yeah? I remember you used to hate them back home, and I had to go all the way up into your room to wake up and go to school together. Then, when you moved out, I would sometimes cycle to yours just to wake you and your girlfriend up!” You said, picturing a perfect scene of your younger, uniform-clad self, clutching a backpack and kicking your bike down Eunseok’s garden to barge into his room, incessantly banging on his door until he got up to open it.

“Yeah, I remember that,” he replied with a smile. “Mornings used to be so bleak, like a reminder that you’re alive for another day. Now, it’s a reminder of anything fresh and new, and I start to get sad around the afternoon, when the sun starts to go down.”

“I think it’s just a reminder of us getting older, no?” You interjected.

“I guess, but I don’t think I mind. Getting older is also something fresh and new in its own way,” Eunseok continued playing with Kokuma until it went away to drink some water out of its bowl. He whistled to the tune of “My Grandfather’s Clock,” attracting two cats his way with his low lullaby. Whenever you tried to pet one, it retaliated and demanded nothing but Eunseok’s touch.

I envy you, you sly, sly cat, you thought, watching the gleaming grin plastered on Eunseok’s lips as he toyed with two cats at the same time.

“Do you wanna come eat lunch with me?” He suddenly asked, eyes perking up to you while trying to distract the cats who began meowing for his attention.

“No thanks, I have to work on some schoolwork. I’ll join you when we go out, though,”

You slipped out of the room and went to Eunseok’s bathroom, washing your face and trimming your nails with the inn’s nail clippers. You expected his bathroom to be simple, but the hospitality of the inn added an impeccable array of expensive soaps, facial creams, and moisturizers by his sink—almost to a point where you wondered if he was truly alone in his room or not. While most of the patients were male, there were a few female patients who were often situated by the music room, either playing piano or guitar as they sang songs that were at least a decade old. Albeit a taboo, you also thought of a nurse coming in past ten in the evening. All speculations disappeared the moment you rinsed your face with another splash of cold water. Eunseok wasn’t the type to sleep around, especially now that he was tangibly confused between his feelings for his girlfriend and you. Closing your eyes, you thought of her, and how relaxed she was whenever with Eunseok. It was a new form of trust that transcended everything you knew about emotions—something that was likened to the fusion of two entities into a cellular level. She never needed to worry whenever she was with Eunseok, because he always got straight through her, reading her mind and understanding her on a molecular level.

Tell me, did you ever get jealous? Of me? Of anyone that Eunseok was with? Did you ever speculate if he was with others when the two of you were not by each other’s side?

No way! You can hear her respond in your head with a vigorous shake of the head. That boy can hardly go on without having to worry about me all the time. Do you think he has the capacity to create space in his mind for other people! No! No way!

You must be lucky, then! Because he still worries about you even when you’re dead!

When you blinked, you saw her outline through the mirror, still wearing the school uniform that she shared with Eunseok. She still looked the same as she did then, with an innocent youthfulness that paled in comparison to what you and Eunseok went through in the throes of young adulthood. Almost as if flaunting the permanence of her age, you can imagine her laughing with good, yet prideful intentions at the thought of Eunseok seeing other women in the facility.

You know, you’re stupid to think of such things! Don’t you believe in him wholeheartedly the way I do?

I don’t know, really. I want to, but it’s a little difficult right now.

Entering the kitchen, the image of Eunseok’s dead girlfriend nodding and waving goodbye transferred into the ripples of the coffee you made. As you swirled your mug, she would swirl, too, swimming in a black pool, sloshing away until you pressed the mug onto your lips. You took your macroeconomics textbook open, quickly tossing your sweater aside in favor of a white tank top in the sunny kitchen. It was a little odd trying to memorize graphs on a kitchen table that wasn’t yours.

Eunseok came back from his calligraphy lessons ar noon, taking a quick shower and changing his clothes. He joined you in the dining hall for lunch, then walked you to the front of the gate. The absent guard was now in his little post, listening to a static-ridden radio while reading a book. He waved at the two of you as you walked past the gate, and you returned the gesture with a friendly sentiment. Eunseok went to the logbook and wrote the details of his outing while entertaining the guard with casual small talk.

“It’s gonna rain later in the evening, so make sure to come back by then. The valley gets very wet and muddy during those times.” He said, mouth stained with the residue of nicotine gum. “Take care,”

“He seems nice,” you said, looking behind you as Eunseok placed his hand on the small of your back.

“I think he’s a little bit like me,” he replied, tapping his head.

The guard was right about the weather—almost so that the sky’s piercing blue hues served to hurt your eyes. The only trail of white clouds that was left was a limp cluster that looked like torn-up cotton balls stuck to a technicolor backdrop on a child’s art project. Instead of taking the dirt path down the hill and into Seoul University’s engineering building, Eunseok took you up on a hike, traversing through large oak trees leading to a steep, narrow hill. He climbed with a confident stride, legs maneuvering the area with perfect, crisp memory. With hardly a single word uttered between the two of you, Eunseok concentrated on his hike, his bomber jacket hoisted up his left shoulder.

You watched his frame solemnly move from side to side, his jacket miraculously staying in place despite the nature of the hike. Sometimes, he would look back at you and smile, ensuring that your eyes would meet.

The trail ended after another ten minutes of upward walking until the two of you reached a flatline. Near the edge of the path, there was a small bench situated at another town’s entrance, and you rested there, wiping your sweat with the hem of your shirt while dousing yourself with water. Then, the two of you got back to walking, this time on a dirt pavement that lined an empty neighborhood of old, Occupation-era houses designed for cheap, communal living away from the main hub of the city. The dead, yellow grass reached your waist and covered a quarter of the houses’ height, alongside dry grubs of pigeon feces that lined the tarnished clay finish of the roofs.

“There was a farmland around here, as you can see with the barren fields. They used to grow rice here, but all of that’s been cleared out since. It’s not really that easy to grow anything out here when the winters get too harsh, and the soil’s been degrading because the weather hasn’t been too nice to it. Everyone migrated towards the city, abandoning this place into an empty wasteland of sorts,”

“Some of the houses here still look like they can be used, no?” You asked. Eunseok peered at one of the bigger houses next to a barren, empty field marred with nothing but dry soil, then snapped his head back to you, as if remembering a crucial detail.

“There are rumors that the Unification Church used it as one of their communes, but I think they’ve moved down South since. It’s either they couldn’t handle the weather, or they got sick of the mountains. After all, most of the people in that cult are city folk.”

A little beyond the moat and the barren fields was a clear, pristine view of Seoul’s city skyline reflected in the deep depths of the Han river. From the corner of your eyes down to the scope of your peripheral vision, you began to mentally trace the vastness of the city with your pupils, black dots going back and forth as each building merged together with the blurry haze of the autumn sun. Eunseok continued to follow the fence that lined the abandoned houses, unfazed at the city in front of him. With downcast eyes, he continued to trot along, light steps posing symmetry with the rustic, worn-down fences beside him.

“This reminds me of the old days, just without the sea,” Eunseok whispered. He tilted his head, glassy, beady eyes meeting yours. Somehow, his eyes blinded you more than the beaming sun.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, we did try to revive this ritual when you moved from Jeju to Seoul. We were practically walking back and forth between the entire city!” You cheered, jogging to his side to match his steadfast pace.

“Even that feels like ancient history to me now.”

At that time, you couldn’t muster a response. You wanted to stop dead at your tracks and pull him into a hug in the middle of the dead roads, holding him with all the delicateness you had in your heart. You wanted to tell him that ancient history is always relevant in the present, and that the past doesn’t have to continue to define your trajectory with him.

Eunseok-ah, we can go on those walks again—hell, even walk through all of Seoul once more, but it will be different once you’re out. We’ll be walking and revisiting history like a sacred, respected tourist spot, full of all the things we’ve learned and understood about each other.

Then, Eunseok walked further again, and you felt that he was too far away from your fingertips. No matter how hard you chased after him, he was always two steps forward, only looking back to flash you a fragile, broken smile.

The dirt path came to a halt, and what was beyond the two of you was a lush forest filled with the coos of distant autumn birds and a flora of old growth trees expanding into the edge of the mountain range. There was nothing beyond the point that Eunseok began walking, and yet it was endless all at once. The city you were so familiar with slowly turned into a green haze, and once you looked back past a point where the green, prickly grass began to reach your waist, the beige finish of the dirt path disappeared completely. Eunseok continued treading onward, then stopped to slowly sit down on one of the barren, empty hills that expanded into an infinite illusion of greeneries.

“Sorry about last night again, I don’t know what got to me. All of a sudden, I was this giant ball of nervousness, and I couldn’t control the tears anymore. It was a bit selfish of me to unleash that after you’ve come all the way from Seoul.” He began, eyes focusing on the piece of grass he twisted between his fingers. You took the empty space next to him, maintaining a loose, spatial distance between him. Whenever Eunseok was like this, he was always difficult to get close to.

“It’s all good.” You reassured, flashing him a warm smile. “We both have a lot of things and feelings we want to straighten up and get out into the open. So if you need anyone to spill everything on, then spill it all on me. After that, we can understand each other better.”

“What will happen after that? After we’ve understood each other?”

“It’s not a question of what then, it’s just a little selfish thing of mine. People have certain fixations, like how Peanut is focused on being a neat freak, and Mirae has her own rigid, albeit complex philosophy that she wants to follow. Mine just happens to be trying to understand you as best as I could, and as best as you’ll let me.”

“So it’s like a hobby?” He asked, widening his eyes at the prospect.

“No, not really. I think most people would call that friendship or love, but if you want to think about it as a hobby, then that’s fine by me.”

“Why do you always end up liking weird people like me?”

“I don’t see you like that, to be honest.” After a few seconds of silence, you pursed your lips in a long, slow sigh.

“But I am weird. I wake up in the middle of the night so scared, even when I don’t have any nightmares. I don’t know why, but it’s this feeling of never getting better again. I’ll always stay in this weird, blurry haze, never having a clear head, and grow old like this, wasting away in the inn and the mountains. When I think of that, I get these horrible chills that make me stay up all night.” Eunseok replied, the fragility in his voice grating your ears like grass. You cautiously shifted closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder as your wrapped your tiny arms over his broad, wide shoulders. He remained frozen, eyes staring into a blank fixture of green hills as he unconsciously unwinded the twisted grass from his fingers.

“Sometimes, I feel like she’s calling to me in the darkness, haunting me because death parted us. I can hear her voice calling for me, calling me out to join her because she can’t stand being alone. I don’t know what to do,”

“What have you been doing?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, please.”

“I won’t.”

“Sometimes, I go to the bathroom and stare at myself. Then, I stare at my penis, thinking of you. And I cry, cry so hard that some of the tears drop while I stroke myself to feel any sense of warmth around me. Is that sick?”

“No, I don’t think it’s sick at all. I just wish I was there for you,” you replied.

“Be here for me now, then. Right here.”

Eyes looking deep into his for answers, you began shifting your weight to his side, slowly laying his head on the soft grass. He laid flat on the ground, hands shivering as his fingers explored the small of your back, searching for something that can never be found. You dipped your head towards his temple, forehead grazing his as the tips of your nose touched. Your eyes found his, silent permission awaiting his imminent approval. Once he gave you a quick nod, you closed your eyes and kissed him, the edge of his mouth feeling light as a feather. The apprehension in your bodies quickly started to fade away, and a lonesome desperation consumed Eunseok. In an instant, he grabbed your body close to his, letting all of him fuse with you in a microcosmic level. A sweeping breath from his lungs tingled in your ears, reassuring you that this was what he wanted. This was what he needed. And yet, the hunger in his tongue delving deep inside the caverns of your mouth made you apprehensive. He responded to every single inch of your body with a bottomless hunger that was difficult to keep up with. Hands threading your hair, tangling within your locks, he pulled you in deeper—and in an instant, it was almost as if he dyed you with all the dark colors that plagued him since you last saw him in Seoul.

“You don’t need to hold back,” you whispered, trying to hide the nervousness that overwhelmed you. As if knowing this, a deep stare engulfed you within the prison of his psyche, enveloping you into his austere smolder.

He slid further down into the hem of your dress, tugging at it and pushing it upward to expose your bare skin to the gentle, autumn breeze. He was warm yet cold at the same time, fingers grasping your waist and never letting go. His rough tongue never left an inch in your stomach, appetite increasing as he found his hands under the cups of your bra. In a quick motion, you raised your torso up and helped him unclasp it, slender fingers desperately squeezing each line and curvature of your breasts. His free hand made its way to feel the cotton of your panties, sneaking past the binding elastic to feel the soft moisture of your slit.

“Tell me something,” He whispered.

“What?” You replied with bated, agonizing breath.

“Will you wait for me until I get better?”

“Of course I will,”

“Will you do me a favor and stop saying of course to everything I say?”

“Sorry, I’ll stop.”

He continued to play with your clit, thumb pressing lightly on its surface while his fingers found its way into your entrance. His lips found its way to your perked up nipples, grazing his tongue around its shape to memorize its outline in perfect clarity. You grabbed his hair, shaky fingers desperately trying to unzip his jeans.

“You’re still wet,” He smiled.

“You’re warm,” You replied, gaining the courage to meet his eyes as you pressed your palm on his crotch.

In one, swift motion, you gently slid his trousers down to his knees, with Eunseok awkwardly kicking them to the side. As his fingers entered your walls, searching around them as you clenched yourself tightly to his electrifying touch, your hands played with the hem of his boxers, casually slipping your fingers in and out until a heaving, longing snarl escaped his hungry lungs.

“Do you want me to touch you?” You asked. A flimsy nod was enough for you to take his girth within your fingers, thumb placed at his tip as you slowly moved up and down, feeling him grow underneath your grasp. He sucked his breath in with your every touch, occasionally losing focus and pulling his fingers out of you.

Gently, you stood up and laid Eunseok on the grass bed, licking his abdomen until your tongue found its way to the tip of his penis. With two hands, you continued to clasp your fingers around his member, one tightly held at his shaft and the other firmly gripping his length. You took him all in, breathing in his intoxicating scent as you let him reach the entrance of your throat.

“Stop,” he murmured. “I want to make you feel good,”

“You don’t have to,” You whispered with a smile, your breath tingling beneath his girth.

“We can make each other feel good, Eunseok.”

Intertwining your fingers with his, you led his stiff length to your core, slowly bucking your hips in response to every jolt and jitter from his member. He held your hands tightly, throbbing and crying with lustful pain as you continued to move your hips to a pace that didn’t overwhelm him. Soft cries of desire and loneliness filled the barren, empty fields of green, and the uncomfortable prickle of grass disappeared, replaced with the needy warmth of Eunseok’s body inside yours. He sucked in a breath, hips rocking forward in a desperate attempt to follow the motions of your hips. Your chest heaved, and your breath began to run out, but you continued to ignore the beads of sweat that trickled from your chin down to his exposed abdomen, wet palms gripping his in the damp grass surrounding the two of you. He whispered his girlfriend’s name underneath his breath, eyes covered with locks of deep, jet-black hair. Despite this, you continued to move your hips, adjusting to every single twitch that you felt inside you.

“Eunseok-ah,”

The immense pleasure building up between your legs loosened into static bliss, feeling Eunseok beneath you, attempting to unlatch himself from your feverish grasp. Now, he was on top of you, firm hands gripping your body tight while your fingernails scratched into his bare back. Just when you thought the wild tensions in your legs began to fade away, the sensation was suddenly replaced with a wave of euphoria. Being filled with Eunseok’s warmth gave you a mixed temperature that blended his cold loneliness with his aching, yearning heat. The rise and fall of his chest and the faint heartbeat that reverberated with it fused with yours; this was the closest you had ever been to Eunseok.

“I never told you about how my dad died, didn’t I?” Eunseok said, breath hazy and interrupted with quick pants.

“I think you did. It was during the war, right?” You replied, removing his limpness outside of you as you watched some of his cum trickle down your thighs.

“Yeah, but I never really went into detail about what happened after that.”

Eunseok cleaned up after himself with his shirt, zipping his jacket all the way up to his neck to defeat the cold. He offered the piece of cloth to you, and you did the same.

“After my mom found out my dad’s body got washed up in Vietnam, she was never the same. Of course, I was a kid, so I didn’t really know what was going on, but I was old enough to understand what it meant when she would lock herself in her room every night, crying and praying all the time. We always fought and bickered before that, but since then, she has never fought with me. She was always so quiet, serving me my meals and picking me up from school.”

To your recollection, Eunseok’s mother was someone inviting and chatty, always updated with gossip looming around the parent’s association. Unlike the other housewives who were often lonely at home, Eunseok’s mother was a radiant beam that shonen even brighter once her husband came home.

“It was the day I had to go home with you, because my mom didn’t show up. The moment I went home, I could smell something vile in the air, kind of like rotting meat. It made me sick to my stomach, but I went inside the house anyway, calling for my mom, who, by this point I was already used to not answering me. I called and called, I even stopped calling her mom and called her by her full name, but she never replied. With my little hands and feet, I tried to open the door, and when I finally saw it, I didn’t know what to think. My own mother, was suspended in tacky bedsheets that she tied together to the main light in her room. By then, she was so frail and thin that the bedsheets didn’t snap or break the lights. After that, I lived through everything like a blur. Maybe that way, the image of her being strangled to death wouldn’t be in my head forever. I then lived with some relative who I never knew existed, and she was alright. She was a little too old to take care of me, but she made my meals on time and even sent her neighbor to pick me up from school. That was when we started walking to the beach a lot, because no matter how much I told myself that this will be my new normal, it never clicked. I was always going to come home to my dead mother, and that will stay with me for the rest of my life. Going to the beach instead of going straight home was the only way I was able to add a new routine to my life, something that will make me forget about it all.”

Eunseok stopped at his tracks, taking a few seconds to breathe before moving forward again.

“The way she killed herself reminded me of how my girlfriend died. They couldn’t stand the grief of losing someone in their life. With my mom, it was my dad’s death that did it. The same could be said about her, even if there was no evidence or indicators that made me understand why she did what she did. I’m not saying she had a perfect upbringing; she was far from it. That’s probably why we got along so well when I moved into her neighborhood after that relative died, and my aunt took me in. From the first day of school, she latched onto me, saying we had the same eyes. Then, I found out her dad died in the war, just like mine, and we seemed to have an automatic, almost spiritual understanding of each other. The more I was with her, the more she reminded me of my mother before my dad died. She liked to read a lot, stayed inside most of the time, and talked. Talked so much that sometimes, it made me forget that my mom had died at all. Her words had a way of filling my brain with things to think about, things to distract myself with. She was the kind of person who told stories that came to life, and I don’t know why I tortured myself the way I did, but whenever I came across a writer who spoke life into their characters, I’d cry. I cried a lot.”

Whenever Eunseok paused, his fingers would twirl into the tall grass, often picking at them to make long ribbons that decorated his hands. Whenever he was finished or if the grass began to snap with the pressure he put on them, he would discard them immediately.

“I never found her when she died, but I can still remember it vividly. I came home from the beach with you, and all of a sudden, two police cars were parked outside of my aunt’s house. They came to ask me a few questions, and then told me that they found her dead on the island’s only highway, sprawled out on the road and flattened by large tires. They took me to the coroner and had me examine her body to identify her, and it took me a while, but I think I was there the entire night, looking at her mangled corpse. I tried talking to her, to see if, by some miracle, she was alive and would respond to me. But the more I conversed with her, the more I felt that I was just talking to myself, so I left and went home. She had the school uniform that we wore, and her dirty bag was sealed in a plastic bag with scribbles and labels that I couldn’t read. I demanded to look through her stuff, but the police had told me they found nothing. No suicide note, no plans to die, nothing. Absolutely nothing. It was just her schoolbooks and a board game that she wanted to play. For the longest time, I believed the incident was an accident. I just thought she took a wrong turn and happened to exit the highway, since it was en route from the school to our neighborhood. Of course, that’s an illusion I fed myself with. How the hell could she turn to a blocked-off highway with large, concrete walls around it to make sure nobody dumb enough would climb it and end up being run over like her? The police later came to me that week and told me they found a grappling hook! A grappling hook! Disposed at the edge of the highway! Why the hell would she have a grappling hook!”

With this, Eunseok slowly shook his head.

“I haven’t seen you since then. I just couldn’t talk to anyone at all until the funeral, when I forced myself to meet you.”

The two of you were back at the entrance to the dirtpath, the marmalade glow of the setting sun dyeing the entire, empty neighborhood in warm hues.

“I’m telling you, I’m a lot more flawed than you think I am. This sickness that I have is a lot worse than you think. It’s not just my girlfriend, but it’s everyone around me. It’s like I kill everyone that I end up getting too close to. And that’s why I want you to move forward, without me. Please don’t wait for me anymore. Sleep with other men and live life. Don’t let thoughts of me hold you back. Otherwise, you might end up dead, too, and that’s the one thing I don’t want to do. I don’t want to interfere with your life like that. I care about you too much to ever want to tarnish you like that. All I want is for you to remember me and come see me when you can. That’s it.”

“But that’s not all I want, though,” You replied.

“You’re wasting your life away by being involved with me,”

“How do you know that? I’ve known you since I was nine, and I’m still here, alive and well, right next to you,”

“But I might never recover. Are you still gonna be there then?” He asked. You couldn’t tell if he was desperate or curious anymore.

“You’re letting yourself get scared by all these things: the dark, the dead, the sickness. You have to let go and forget them to recover, and I’m sure you will.”

“That’s if I can,” Eunseok replied, shaking his head.

“Once you’re discharged, do you wanna live with me?” You suddenly asked. “Then I can protect you from everything. I’ll be there for you when things get too hard, and I will always be right next to you so you can hold me whenever you’re feeling lonely. It’s no sea or anything, but it’ll be just like Jeju. We’ll walk up and down the Han River until we reach the end of it.”

“That would be wonderful,”

Eunseok pressed his languid weight against yours, lacing his fingers underneath your palms.

The last thing Eunseok said to you was a faint “goodbye,” and then, your time at Ujeong Inn ended just as swiftly as it had begun. It rained when you had to leave, and Eunseok didn’t see you out the door. He was right about the inn and its facilities, for it took a while for you to adjust to the “real world.” Unlocking the door to your apartment and entering what was supposed to be your home suddenly felt unfamiliar. Sometimes, apparitions of Eunseok would start to appear at the kitchen table that the two of you shared when he still lived next to you, listening to his meager record collection while making dinner on a Friday night. Now, you lay in bed in a daze, watching a stream of abstract colors wash and waver around your eyes. It took a few blinks for them to disappear into your empty, white ceiling, and before you could sleep, the ungodly hour struck at three in the morning with fifteen-minute intervals of blaring sirens outside your open window. The ghost of Eunseok’s presence was felt strongly in the empty spaces of your bed, as if any minute now, he would come crawling next to you, resting his head on your chest while sharing each other’s warmth. You could feel his tender, jolting skin next to yours, the ebbs and flows of his shaky breath coming up and down with each contraction of his chest. In the darkness of the night, you returned to the inn and the visions of your dreams there, smelling the fresh, lush greeneries a distance away. You thought of his naked, frail body, picturing him playing with the cats at the inn or drawing beautiful renditions of calligraphy with his slender fingers gently gripping the tip of the brush. Your fingers slowly made their way to your entrance, pushing more fingers until you could fill yourself up with a loose pastiche of his girth until you came. That managed to help you sleep a little, but before you knew it, your alarm clock rang in your ears, signaling your true return to the real world.

The next time you saw Sungchan was a week later, after you had eaten lunch at the cafeteria on your way to your macroeconomics lecture. Sungchan was with a group of other boys, presumably soccer players, as all of them had been wearing cleats. When he saw you, he approached you alone.

“So, what’s going on with our deal?” He asked.

“You mean your so-called restraining order?”

“Ditch macro and come eat lunch with me.”

“I already ate.”

“So? Don’t care. Order a coffee or something. Just come with me.”

The two of you ended up at a nearby cafe, where he ordered a giant plate of pork cutlet while you had a serving of coffee. He still wore a sweaty, soccer jersey with shorts and knee-high socks tucked underneath a pair of tightly-laced cleats. He seemed to enjoy the cutlet and took three or four bites at once while quickly drinking a glass of water.

“Things haven’t been good at the record store, sales have been rough and I practically had to be home waiting for calls. Something about negotiating the building being sold off and my dad from Thailand calling at weird times to talk about it,”

“Any fires lately?” You asked.

“That was fun! We should do it again,” Sungchan had another glass of water, took a breath, and stared into your eyes for a while.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sungchan said, snapping his fingers around your eyes. “You look like you’re not here,”

“I’m alright, I’ve just been tired from a trip.” You replied.

“Where did you go?”

“Gwanaksan. Just over there.”

“Why?”

“For a hike?”

“Did you meet other boys there?”

“What’s that to you?”

“I don’t know, I can’t stop thinking about when we kissed.”

“That’s nice.”

“Not even a proper reaction? God, you talk so weird.”

“Do I?”

“Yeah, anyway,” Sungchan snapped, taking the menu in his hands while holding his free arm up high to call a waiter. “I was thinking, right, that if I could switch things in my life around to make it more ideal, then I would’ve absolutely been happier if my first kiss had been with you. Then, I would wonder later in my life about you, asking about that one first kiss, not knowing where the hell you went off to. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“I guess?” You replied. In a few minutes, a large pint of beer was slammed onto the table. Sungchan gave a quick wink to the waiter before gulping half of the glass down, careless of the white foam that lingered around his lips.

“Why are you so spaced out?”

“I don’t know. Probably the mountains and nature doing things to me, but I just feel like nothing’s real anymore.” You replied after another round of silence.

“People are strange when you’re a stranger,”

“The Doors? Really?”

“What? It’s my job to know many songs, and you just happened to perfectly describe this one request I’m working on for the radio: something about loneliness and isolation in the city.”

“Right,”

“You really need to come to Thailand with me,” Sungchan said. You’ve always known him as the type to take charge of the conversation and mold it into whatever he wished, but you found it difficult to keep up with him.

“I don’t think that’s a bad idea at all,” You replied, chuckling lightly as your eyes scanned the drinks menu. Though it was still midday, you realized that a drink or two could ease your apprehensions about the inn and Eunseok.

“Come on! Ditch everything, I’m sure it’d be a nice, wonderful change to go somewhere where you don’t know a single soul.”

After calling the waiter for a cool mojito, you turned your attention back to Sungchan.

“Sometimes, I feel like doing that. I just wanna escape life, get whisked somewhere far, far, away. Live like those super-rich men who have a ton of babies everywhere they go, and I’d live happily with them, watching them roll on the floor and coo with their little big eyes.”

“Babies…?”

“I guess you don’t want a lot of babies yet,” Sungchan groaned, eyes tracing the plate of fries that was freshly placed in front of him. He took a handful and stuffed his face until his cheeks puffed out, leaving you in a laughing fit.

“I don’t know, motherhood doesn’t sound too bad, but not right now.”

“It’s alright. You don’t want to have them, so there’s no point.” Sungchan took another handful of fries and loudly crunched on them. “What’s the point of going to Thailand anyway? All they have there is elephant shit. Elephant shit everywhere. A shit here, and a shit there. Hey, do you want some of my skewers? Take my skewers.”

Sungchan was especially enigmatic today. You couldn’t put your fingers around why, but it slowly helped you pull yourself out of the lingering memories you had with Eunseok. Now, you were here, with Sungchan blabbering on about whatever came into his mind. You had a cool glass of mint mojito next to you, and the more you drank its chilled contents, the more your throat responded positively. Perhaps you were just parched, or perhaps it was something more. Regardless, you were coming back in the now, chin resting on your knuckles as you watched the plate of fries and skewers quickly disappear, its contents successfully transported inside Sungchan's mouth.

“Sunday was too nice to me, almost like a dream I never wanted to wake up from. Watching someone’s house get on fire, drinking beer—I don’t know how long it’s been since I felt something so relaxing. People are always forcing me to do things, like, the minute they see me, they ask me, ‘Hey Sungchan! Do this!’ or ‘Sungchan! Can you sub for a left-back today?’ The least anyone can do is not force things on me like that.”

“I don’t think I know you enough to force you to do stuff for me,” You replied. Once the plate of fries was empty, Sungchan popped a few ice cubes in his mouth, crushing it beneath his teeth as he whistled at the waiter for another heaping of chicken skewers and two bottles of strong rye whiskey.

“You mean, if you knew me better, you’d force me to do things like everyone else?” He asked, eyes staring straight into yours. This was the third or fourth round of drinks, and the waiter seemed visibly annoyed at the growing pile of empty glasses next to Sungchan. He rested his chin on his large palm, fingers tapping his cheek to the rhythm of Echo and the Bunnymen playing in the background. Once you finished your glass, you kept still, quiet as ever. Closing your eyes, you immersed yourself in the soft strums of “Lips Like Sugar.” The restaurant began to pile up with more customers, but it was only your table that had begun drinking alcohol.

“I mean, isn’t that how life is? People build relationships by forcing stuff onto each other.” You explained, after ordering another glass of mojito.

“But you wouldn’t do that. You’re not the type.”

“How are you so sure of that?”

“I can just tell. I’ve become an expert in these things, seeing if people will force things on you or not, and you’re nothing like that, which is why I feel so relaxed when I’m with you.”

“What kind of things do people force on you?”

“Do you wanna get to know me better?”

“I just asked,”

“What kind of answer is that?” Sungchan exclaimed, angrily popping another ice cube in his mouth.

“Okay, yes, Sungchan. I do wanna get to know you better.”

“Really?”

His crunching halted, a few drops of melted ice trickling down his chin, dampening his palms in the process.

“Yes.”

“Even if what I might say ends up getting you in prison?”

“Seriously?”

“Are you free on Sunday again?” He asked.

“Didn’t I tell you I was always free on Sundays?”

“Okay, come hang out with me on Sunday, then.”

“Sure,”

“I’ll come to your apartment, then we can go somewhere from there. I’m not sure what time, though, but I’ll be there when I’ll be there, ringing your doorbell.”

“Yeah, sure. That’s no problem.”

“Do you have any idea what I wanna do right now?” He asked in quick succession, a fresh batch of chicken skewers sliding onto his side of the table. With a clean swipe, he took a piece and used his teeth to remove all the meat from the burnt, wooden stick.

“No, my head’s blank right now, if I’m being honest with you.”

“Okay, so first, I wanna lie down in a bigass bed, wide and comfy with fluffy blankets. I wanna get so drunk and cozy, not having to think about elephants and their shit at all, and I want you to be there, right next to me.”

“And then?”

“I think you know the rest,”

“Oh boy…”

You couldn’t count the amount of drinks the two of you had, but you were sure that Sungchan was not in the right headspace. He was staggering from his seat, eyes squinting at the bill as he complained that the text was too small for him to read. Regardless, he slapped several five thousand Won notes on the leather casing that held the thinly-veiled receipt.

“It’s okay, think of it as a treat. I was the one who asked you to skip class for me anyway, unless you’re true to your party’s goals and have a credit card, refusing to let a man pay for you.”

“No, I’m not like that. It’s fine, really.”

Lifting Sungchan out of the restaurant was already a hassle in itself, but his staggers worsened as soon as the two of you began to walk outside. You couldn’t tell if he was tipsy or if he was already drunk, but he almost missed one step, and you did your best to carry his weight on your shoulders, making sure that you didn’t fall back into the hard, concrete wall with him. The layers of violet in the sky were now embedded in a deep, dark glow, emanating the low dim of the crescent moon that flickered with the neon lights around the alleyways. The two of you wandered around for a while, ending up in a small parkette with a few swings and benches.

“Do you think if there were any tall trees in here, I could climb it?” He asked.

“Yeah, I mean, you’re athletic and all, I’m sure a tree would be nothing to you.”

You looked around the parkette to ensure that your eyes didn’t fool you, and you hummed in vague concern upon realizing that there weren’t any trees at all in the parkette. The only thing that remotely resembled such a tree was the neatly trimmed bushes that lined the entrance of the parkette, exaggerating in size with the shadowplay of the night. Sure, some of them had outlines of twigs and branches sticking out of them, but in the end, there was nothing that Sungchan could climb—especially given his stature.

“Well, too bad. All the trees here are too damn short for me.”

He got up and grabbed your hand, fingers clasped tightly on your wrists as he led you into the main shopping district. The more you were engulfed in the bustle of the city, watching each mannequin outside of a store feel more alive and in tune with the world than you were at the moment, the more concrete everything around you began to feel. The streets felt real, even more real than before when you had just moved to Seoul. It was a stark reminder that you were no longer there, but here, in the city, with a woozy Sungchan flailing his arms as he walked with an invisible tune in his head.

“I’m glad I ran into you.” You whispered under your breath. “I think I’m back in the real world now,”

“That is true,” Sungchan replied, stopping in his tracks while peering straight into your eyes. “You finally look like you’re here. See? That contract of ours is doing you wonders. I get to have a restraining order so I don’t get any creepy stalkers anymore, and hanging out with me does you good by pulling you all the way back to the ground from whatever sky you’re at.”

“Sometimes, I hate that you’re right,”

The large clock looming at the center of the intersection in the shopping district pointed at six in the evening, and Sungchan said he had to go home to make dinner and prepare for a match tomorrow. You told him that you would also call it a night, allowing him to walk you to the bus stop.

“Do you know what I want to do now?” He asked, taking the seat next to you in the waiting area.

“What?”

“I want to go to Somalia. Get captured by pirates, you and me. They’d tie us together in tight ropes and make sure we can’t escape.”

“Why the hell would you want us to get captured by pirates?”

“I don’t know. Maybe fucking you in captivity is a hot fantasy I’ve let myself think about a bit too much,” he said.

“Pervert.”

“Then, the pirates, even though we can’t understand their language at all, would tell us we had an hour to go before they would either shoot us or, by some miracle, have some coastal guards from the US find us and save us.”

“Then?”

“And then we would use that hour, rolling around while trying to take our clothes off, me trying to put it in with our hands and legs tied together,”

“That’s what you wanna do now? Really?”

“Yeah,”

“Good lord, Sungchan,” you said, shaking your head. By this point, Sungchan was sober enough to get up and walk back to the station. As the door to the bus opened, he reminded you of your meeting tomorrow, staying seated in the waiting area until your bus took a turn to the other lane.

It was seven in the morning when Sungchan visited your apartment. You had just woken up and had time to fetch the daily paper at your door, but you didn’t have the chance to wash your face or properly start your day with a cup of coffee. Before you could go back to the kitchen table or take a glance at today’s headline, someone loudly pounded at your door. Tucking the paper underneath your arm, you peeked through the door viewer to find Sungchan peering straight into its small, circular lens. His form wavered and swirled each time you blinked, the glass reflection of his eyes seemingly spinning in graceful pirouettes.

“Hurry up and let me in, or else I’ll get hit on by all your neighbors! Including the ahjummas who were totally staring at how nice my face looks!”

Once you opened the door, you were greeted by Sungchan’s beaming smile. Beads of sweat lined his furrowed brows as he used the hem of his shirt to wipe down the mist that gleamed under the rays of the summer sun.

“Was I too early?” He asked.

“No, not really. You came here right after the guy delivered my morning paper, come in, and I’ll make you some tea.”

Sungchan kicked his shoes off, lining them neatly next to your sneakers before entering your apartment.

“Nice place for yourself, is that the bed where you finger yourself? Or do you do it on the couch over there?”

At this point, you were used to his crudeness, but the level of crass he can muster always leaves you with a second of stalled thought—almost as if time had stopped whenever something dirty came out of his mouth.

“Come on, Sungchan. It’s like, seven in the morning. Don’t you have anything better to say?” You replied

“No, not really.”

Before the kettle on your stove could hiss and breathe steam, you rushed to turn the switch off, hastily opening the window and fanning the smoke out into the open. Sungchan sat on one of the chairs of your dining table set, eyeing the stacks of newspapers you’ve saved somewhat morosely.

“Tea’s ready, what kind do you want?” You asked.

“The same one you’re having,”

“Okay,”

You added an extra portion of milk into his tea with a cube of sugar. Normally, you’d prepare a pot of orange pekoe or rose hip, unbothered by the periodical cool of the tea whenever you would leave it to brew for too long to head to the university. Rather than out of practice or habit, it was more so a neglectful absence that didn’t require atonement. To you, it was just a pot of tea. If you were so eager to have it nice and warm, you could just pour a cup full into a saucepan and add a little bit of milk or fruit jam, stirring it and drinking it with a spoon instead of transferring it back into the pot. There was no routine to it at all. Tea was tea.

However, the man in front of you, crass as he may be, was your guest. Even if it were at his request to have whatever you were having, it would probably be wise for you to brew him a fresh cup. After all, he was a guest, not a customer. It’s not for him to know how you like to have your tea—cold and bitter.

“So tell me, what do girls living alone like you do?” He asked, ceaselessly blowing on the tip of the mug as he waited impatiently to devour the drink.

“I don’t know, that’s a very creepy question to ask, you know?” You replied between sips of hot tea, placing your mug down on a coaster as you crossed your legs, dangling them on the side of the chair. “Also, don’t you have a girlfriend to ask this to?”

“Just like you, we’re a bit complicated right now.” He said, eyes looking at the slow, rising steam wafting back and forth from his mug. “Besides, she’d yell at me if I asked her these things.”

“That’s perfectly normal.”

“I know, but I’m just curious, and you seem to answer all my questions, no matter how bizarre.”

“That’s because you won’t shut up unless I do,” You retorted. Sungchan took the mug back into his hands and towards his pursed lips, giving the rim a light peck before drinking half of the cup and jingling it around to swish the leaves that rested at the bottom of his mug.

“So tell me, what is it that you do here all alone?” He asked again. His doe-like, brown eyes protruded through you as if you were transparent—practically invisible. Rubbing the goosebumps off your arms, you cleared your throat and took the mug between your lips, gently blowing at it before taking a sip. Once you let it down, his bright, brown eyes glistened into a greenish hazel you as the sun hit his frame through the sheer slip between the curtains. You pushed your seat back and continued to hold your mug, this time anchoring your elbow to the table to increase the distance between him.

“Well, I get up, read the daily papers, drink tea or coffee, depending on what I have, then take the train to school. When I go home, I take a shower, brush my teeth, study, and then go to bed.”

“What about your sex life?”

“That hasn’t been active lately,”

“Isn’t it easier for you to just bring men here?”

“Yeah, but I don’t feel like it,”

“Am I not hot enough?”

“No, you’re a hunk, trust me.”

“So then, why don’t you invite me here more often?”

“Because, dumbass, I think of you as a friend. Why would I want to invite you over and—”

“You have someone else waiting to be invited back here,” Sungchan retorted. You could feel your chest tighten at every second that passed in silence.

“Well, yeah, I guess,” You replied, exhaling each word as you turned your gaze to the fuzz of your worn-out slippers. “You’re surprisingly proper when it comes to these things,”

“That’s what I like about you. But still, you couldn’t even invite me over for a quick fuck? Something to let some steam off? I wanna be here even just once, helping each other relieve our stress or something. I’m asking you because we’re friends. Who else can I ask for something like that? I can’t just walk up to anyone and say, ‘Hey, do you live alone? Can you invite me over so we can fuck for a second?’ It’s because I see you as a friend that I’m asking,”

You let out a sigh.

“If you’re that desperate, you can come over again next week, and we can sort something out. What do you like?”

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression or anything,” You said, watching him stand up through the corner of your eyes. “You already have painted yourself as a sex-crazed freak,”

Sungchan began pacing the room, letting his loud steps echo throughout your walls and back into your ears, equally matching the quickening thumps of your heart that rendered you deaf. He then turned his heels with a screech, and you watched his toes' heavy, languid steps draw closer to the tip of your slippers. He took a finger and lifted your chin to meet his gaze, a swirling depth of hazel underneath the glimmer of the sun. Before you could lean, he took his finger back and stuffed it in his pocket, hunching back into his seat with a ‘thump.’

“Whatever, anyway, I’m just curious. I was in an all-boys school my whole life so I really don’t know anything about women, even if people have spread rumors about me being this playboy. I want to really know what women think, not just through gossip and stories from other boys.”

You tried to suppress a groan, but allowed him to continue with his ridiculous train of thought.

“The thing is, the girl I’m seeing right now doesn’t really like it when I ask her these things. She gets angry, calls me a nympho or a crazy person, and she wouldn’t even let me eat her out. Something about being a hardcore Christian makes her want to wait and see these things as impure,”

“Right,”

“Have you been eaten out before?”

“Yeah,”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, but can we please talk about something else? It’s such a beautiful Sunday morning, where I was meant to sip coffee in the sunrise while reading my morning paper. I don’t want it to be ruined by talking about fucking and getting my pussy eaten out. Let’s try to talk about something else, like your girlfriend or something. Is she in the same university as us?” You asked. The cup clasped onto your hands was empty, and you didn’t have the appetite to offer pastries that you’d left in your bread box two days ago.

“Okay, pause. She’s not my girlfriend. It’s a little more complicated than that. She goes to the women’s university nearby, and we met after I played at her school for a soccer match. We started to talk more after exams, but she refused to put a label on it,”

At some point in the conversation, you began to allow the rest of the world around you to blur in a dream-like haze, wafting back and forth like the steam that has now fully evaporated out of you and Sungchan’s mug. You let your head hang lightly by the headrest of your chair, feeling the wooden spine trudge deeper and deeper into your neck. In these thoughts, you tried to picture Eunseok’s face, but it was rather difficult when Sungchan’s voice would continue to permeate in and out of your ears. What did Sungchan’s girlfriend look like? Would she be a better fit for Eunseok than you were? Why should any of that matter? You didn’t even know the girl.

“Hey,”

“What?”

Just as your eyes began to adjust to the slow, menial details of Sungchan’s face, the cup on the coaster tipped over to reveal scatters of tea leaves strewn across your dining table, coated in thick, dark hues of deep, foreboding maroon. You hastily searched for a napkin or a tea towel, and Sungchan tossed a pack of tissues crumpled out of his pocket.

“Just once on a Sunday.” He repeated, and you lost his train of thought at that very moment.

“No,” You answered, but a part of you failed to recall his initial request.

“At least think of me when you finger yourself, please?”

Ah, there it is again.

“Fine. I’ll give it a try and write you a detailed report, is that enough?” You said, throwing the empty pack of tissues to the bin by the kitchen counter.

The two of you took the commuter train to Jongno. When you transferred to Daegok, Sungchan offered to purchase a small, tuna-filled kimbap from one of the stands in the station to make up for the breakfast you hadn’t eaten. The tea you had with him was over-brewed and tasted of the autumn falls blasting in your mouth. The trains on the weekends usually consisted of students in large groups of more than five and families who wanted to take the line straight to the park. There was an odd assortment of bookish girls in long skirts and boys slinging tennis rackets on their backs, rushing to leave the train to the nearest exit. Underneath the fluorescent lights of the carriage, Sungchan’s tank top was so sheer that you could see the outline of his chest and abdomen without any sense of imagination. Occasionally, he would pull the hem of his top-down, tightening its fit to enhance the way his sweat and skin clung onto the transparency of his white top. Some people in the car began staring at him, making you uneasy. This continued until the two of you had to get off at Bulgwang to switch platforms.

“Do you wanna know what I’d like to do now?” Sungchan whispered while you quickened your pace.

“Not here, Sungchan, we’re in the fucking train for god’s sake,” You hissed. “What if someone will hear you?”

“Too bad, this fantasy’s a wild one,” Sungchan replied, clearly disappointed.

“Why are we going to Jongno?” You asked, attempting to change the topic.

“Just come,”

Jongno was sparse on a Sunday, full of empty houses that toppled over each other with equally vacant garage slots imprinted in thick, black tire marks. Sungchan slid through the downward slope of the residential villages resembling ancient homes with sleek, angular woodwork, keeping one of his hands in his pocket while interlocking his fingers in yours with the other.

Without warning, he asked you. “Can you explain the concept of speculative attacks and why that causes a currency crisis?”

“I can, but you should know the answer to that if you paid attention in lecture,” You replied.

“Okay, here’s another way to frame it. How could that stuff be useful in our day-to-day life?”

“Unless you’re working in public policy or economics, then no, you don’t really need to know that stuff in detail.” You said after a brief pause to collect your thoughts. “It doesn’t necessarily serve a concrete purpose, but having that extra information in mind is useful for you to grasp things in a more logical, systematic manner. Say, a currency crisis. It’s a thing that impacts our daily lives. If the government is running a budget deficit, then that means they’re gonna hike up taxes or cut spending. What this means for us is our lives might be harder because we have more taxes to pay, or facilities that we need might not be built. Things like that can give us more pieces to fit in this large puzzle we call life.”

He continued to hold your hand down the slope, only letting go to carry you up once the two of you reached a point where all the greeneries and mountain ranges looked as squishable as a colony of ants within the palm of your hand. Your breath hitched for an instant, taking in the soft breeze gently caressing your cheeks while staring down into a part of the city that suddenly made you feel so small. Cars and trucks parked down the pathway felt like toys you could animate to life with one push of your finger; families hand-in-hand could be plucked out like dolls; the sky and clouds swirled with the swirl of your finger; the green of the mountains was so vibrant you felt yourself inching closer and closer to the metal railing’s edge.

“Wow, aren’t you amazing.” He said, keeping his firm, long arms on your waist. “I never really thought about it that way. I’ve always seen what I’ve learned in school as totally useless, a pain in the ass, if you will, so I always ignored them. Now, thanks to you, I have to rethink my whole life. See if I was thinking about things the wrong way,”

“You ignored them?”

“Yeah, like I just thought they didn’t exist. I know money exists because it’s something tangible, but I couldn’t care less about sine curves or differential calculus. Those are just things to me, things I write on paper that I just throw out when I’m done with them.”

“Then how did you get into university with a mindset like that?”

“Don’t be dumb, you don’t need to know everything to pass exams! You just need luck and intuition. Most of the time, it’s just picking one option out of the three. One of them usually looks off, so it’s picking between the two that you think is right—and I’m usually right about the answers.” He exclaimed, leaving light kisses on your neck.

“Unlike you, I don’t think I have too good of an intuition, so I have to be systematic, kind of like how ants work together to carry food back to their colony. It’s a step-by-step relay of going from point A to point B, until I reach the end.” You laughed under your breath, taking the chance to turn and free yourself from him. You leaned on the metal railings, feeling the cool touch of the metal replace the warmth that his arms had left.

“Is that any better?” He asked curiously.

“I don’t know, I think it’s easier to understand some concepts that way,”

“Like what? I need examples here,”

“Languages?”

“What good does learning a new language do?” He asked. Sungchan always had a habit of curling his lips inward when he was in deep thought, accentuating the apples of his cheeks and making his sharp features rounder.

“Depends on the person trying to learn it. It serves some people a purpose to understand French because they’re either going to France or any French-speaking country for work, and others might be here in Korea their whole lives. The main thing, though, is training your brain to dissect things piece-by-piece, making it easier to absorb. It’s not necessarily about the purpose it serves, but often the skills you gain.”

“You know, you’re really good at explaining things to people,” Sungchan finally said, seemingly impressed with you. He took your hand in his again and took you even lower down the slope.

“Am I?” You asked.

“Yeah. I’ve asked everyone in class what the hell a currency crisis has to do with everyday life and why we need it, and not one of them gave me a good, clear answer. Not even the professors are supposed to be experts in this stuff! They go on this winding path of just explaining difficult concepts and never getting to the root of my question, or they just laugh it off and tell me that I should know because I decided to enroll myself in this program. If I had met you a lot earlier, then I would’ve been interested in so many things! Damn, what a life I’ve missed.”

All you could do was hum in response.

“Did you ever read Das Kapital?” He suddenly asked.

“Only parts that were assigned, but I never got around to finishing it,”

“Did you understand what Marx was trying to say?”

“A little bit. I feel like you have to have more knowledge on economics to read a book like that, far beyond what has been hamfisted up our asses by the professors,”

That was a lie. Your first encounter with Marx was with Eunseok and his girlfriend in high school. Being the contrarian she was, she always enjoyed provocative books that got her in trouble. Naturally, after being suspended for three days for carrying a copy of Marx and Engel’s The Communist Manifesto, proclaiming her unyielding devotion to Juche in front of the whole class, the next step for her was to bring a copy of Das Kapital, tactfully ripping some of the paragraphs and stuffing them inside her History notebook upon submission to the teacher. You had only read a few pages of Das Kapital then, but to this day, you could never understand what this book had to do with communism. It was a benign, sometimes aggressive critique of what is now blooming into a consolidated economic system written at a time when there were many avenues that the world could’ve taken. Marx shouldn’t be faulted for what the future thought of his words.

“Do you think, say, a first-year student who has never been educated in economics would be able to understand Das Kapital just by reading it?” Sungchan asked.

“No, that’s just a Sisyphean task. Outright impossible.” You responded without preamble.

“You know, when I joined the soccer team, I expected to simply play soccer. But no, that wasn’t the case. Most of the people on the team were either socialists or those from a more working-class background, people who had been invested in the student demonstrations about inequality and political fraud. And so, whenever we finished practice or ended a friendly match, they would always talk about Marx in the locker room, saying that his view on labor was important for the future of sports. I tried to get a copy and read a few bits of Das Kapital at home, but I couldn’t get it at all. So, when I went back and told them I didn’t get it by the next week after practice, they treated me like an idiot, saying that I had nothing going on in my head. ‘Oh, Sungchan, you’re in the economics program but couldn’t even understand Marx! Hah! That’s funny! That’s what the orthodox system does to you!’ They called me a fraud for playing a working-class sport as a private school kid, all because I had told them I didn’t understand a piece of text. That’s horrible!”

“Yeah, that is horrible,” You repeated.

“The thing is, though, their discussions were terrible, too. Empty nothingness by using big words to sound smart, when in reality, they probably misinterpreted what Marx wanted to say, too. Whenever I asked them to explain things to me, they never bothered to. Instead, they’d just get angry, as if expecting me to know all these things by default. Can you believe it?”

“Yeah, I can, that’s the type of crowd that the underground lectures and student movements often attract,” You replied.

“Our former captain, who’s now graduated, called me a dumbass with nothing but brawn for my brain, asking me how I live my life the way I do now? That did it. I know I’m not the smartest, and even though I went to a private school, I was also from a working-class background. I am well aware that it’s the working class that keeps the world running and that the working class gets exploited by the bourgeoisie. I don’t think Marx envisioned a revolution where people just throw big, fancy words at each other that others can’t understand? That’s a shitty social revolution if you ask me. How the hell are you able to move people with difficult words that they can’t understand? I believe that if a certain group of people are being exploited, then we have to do all we can to stop it, that’s why I keep asking questions, to know more and to understand how the world works so we can try to make it a better place. Do you think I’m stupid, or what?”

“No, you’re very much right.”

“A-ha! Those guys are total frauds! All they have in mind is using these big words to impress girls that they run into after our matches. When they graduate, they won’t give a single crap about the class struggle or whatever socialist mumbo jumbo they were preaching! They’d just don a suit and find work in large companies! They’d marry pretty, upper-class wives who have never read a single word of Marx in their life, get kids, drive fast, fancy cars, and give them Western names that are so ridiculous that it makes you want to laugh. Smash the education complex? Fight against election fraud? What bullshit! The newer recruits were just as bad. They didn’t know a single thing about Marx. They just sat there silently in the locker room and pointed fingers at me whenever I asked a question. Then, they told me, ‘Hyung, just agree with whatever they say, it’s easier that way.’ Makes my blood boil.”

You laughed, watching the sparkle in his eyes fester with vigor. “So, what happened after that?”

“Most of the upperclassmen had graduated by the time I got the position of vice-captain. Since then, I told the new recruits to never talk about things like Marx in the locker room and to treat each other with respect. ‘Ask Hyung if you need anything, and I won’t haze or bully you about it.’ I told them that. Things have been better since, but the captain still wants to keep the so-called revolution going. Something about keeping the original root of the sport and the integrity of the game aligned with the class struggle. Shut the fuck up. God, if ever any of those assholes ran into you, they’d probably beat you up or shoot you because you understood Marx far better than they did.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, believe me. I know what I’m talking about. I’m working class. Revolution or not, the working class will always be the ones scraping by. I mean, look at those communist revolutions happening in Africa! I don’t know too much, but tell me why they’re still poor even after some big guy comes in and says he can change the country! It’s because he uses stupid, big words that nobody can understand! Then, they’d hike up taxes for so-called ‘government expenses,’ when in reality, they’re just inflating their pockets with more money and gold. Tell me, have you ever seen the taxman?”

“No, never,”

“Well, I have. Too many times. They come in barging into your door with their stupid papers, acting like big game. ‘Oh, how is take out a business expense? Show me all your receipts right now!’ And we can’t even say anything back, or else my dad will go to jail! We even have to give them nice teas and snacks! No matter how cruel they are, though, I will tell you one thing: My dad is an honest man. He has never cheated on his taxes, and he keeps records just as well as he’s maintained the shop since it was handed over to him. If you tell that to the taxman, though, he won’t believe you. He’ll just dig and dig and dig. ‘What’s this ledger?’ ‘Isn’t income looking a little low in this quarter?’ And I wanted to scream to them, scream so loud: Hey asshole! Income isn’t looking too good because we’re not making any money with this stupid business! Go dig into our shop when we make some real cash!”

“The worst part is that they won’t change even after a revolution,” You signed.

“Exactly. Fuck the revolution. It’s just a bunch of bullshit. The only thing I’ll ever believe in is love.”

“I got somewhere to be,” Sungchan said.

“This early?”

“Yeah, I have to go to the hospital. My dad’s there, so it’s my turn to look after him,”

“Wait, I thought he was in Thailand?”

“I lied.” Sungchan said flatly. “I mean, he’s been screaming about it, but he’s not even in a condition to leave Seoul.”

“How bad is he?” You asked.

“I don’t know, give it a few months? Maybe two?” He replied. The two of you walked on in deathly silence. It was a matter of time until the two of you reached the bottom of the slope, head first into the large, glass doors of Seoul National University Hospital.

“He’s got the same one my mother had, just with a different genitalia because he’s a man. God, I don’t know if you can sexually transmit cancer, but can you believe it? Four years after cervical cancer, my dad suddenly gets testicular.”

Once the two of you entered the corridors, the stench of antiseptic wafted in the air. The hospital was busy and crowded for a Sunday, with several lines in the reception and elevators consisting of weekend visitors and patients walking about in wheelchairs or IV drips. The sweet scent of flowers slightly permeated the air, with an inkling of urine and old mattresses. Nurses walked past the two of you, pushing large trays of food, the soles of their shoes rubbing into the floor as they quickened their pace.

Sungchan’s father was in a room shared with four other patients. His bed was right by the large, open window. Upon inspection, it was difficult to tell if he was breathing and even harder to tell if he was human. Though he was stretched out, the rest was shriveled up like a raisin, cheeks hollow to the touch and eyes covered in folded lids that were always closed.

Today, he was lying on his side, skinny, bony arms limp and flat on the white bed covers. There were several tubes and needles attached to him, and it was difficult to see him as the kind of man who was once as tall and mighty as his son. The constant drip of the plastic bags only gave you the impression that he could only shrivel up more than he already endured.

For a brief second, you saw his eyes fling open as if aware of Sungchan’s presence and only keeping them open as a greeting that was established between father and son. It didn’t take a doctor or a medical practitioner of any sort to know that he was going to die soon. At least, in part, all it took for you was, in brevity, seeing the rims of his eyes glow a shade of pinkish red, drifting back and forth with the blur of cataracts in his pupils that refused to show him the colors and lines of the world he once saw. There was absolutely no sign of life or direction in his second-long gaze, and even if you were to inflate him like an air balloon with life, it felt to you like there was a punctured hole somewhere in him that oozed out life no matter how hard you tried to pump it in him. It was a short stretch from here to the end—a waiting game of slow decay and demolition. Despite this, though, his thin, white goatee continued to grow like stray bristles on a brush, and you wondered why he grew an impressive one when all other signs of life escaped his body and mind.

Sungchan greeted each patient by popping his head through the curtains. One lady of about sixty with all her curtains open nodded and smiled in return, dry, flaky lips sealed with a lack of moisture. She tried to suppress a cough a few times, then returned to her bed to shift her weightless form to face the door.

The view from the window was bleak in comparison to the one the two of you experienced in the middle of the residential area’s slopes. The only thing you could see from Sungchan’s father’s window was a large, electricity pole that covered the sky.

“How are you feeling, dad?” Sungchan asked, leaning closer until his lips were right next to his father’s ear. His father shook his head and muttered a groan, as any word he formed in his head remain stuck in his throat, choking him dry.

“Headache?” Sungchan asked, touching his own head. His father nodded in return, trying to open his mouth but to no avail.

“Well, no wonder,” he muttered. “You’ve just got your balls removed, and they’ve injected you with so much medicine that your head will pound. Of course, your head will hurt. Too bad, but please, try to be brave. Oh, and this is my friend,”

“Nice to meet you,” You said. Sungchan’s father tried to open his mouth, then proceeded to close it shut again.

Sungchan pulled a seat from his father’s foldable table and gestured for you to sit. You hesitated a little until he grabbed your arm and pulled you into one of the plastic chairs next to his father’s bed. Sungchan then gave his father a few sips of water, asking him if he would like any food. His father shook his head, and when Sungchan stubbornly insisted that he needed to eat, his father opened his eyes briefly, moving his pupils to point at the food left at the head of his bed.

Sungchan hoisted a large duffel bag under the table, taking out a change of clothes and underwear, straightening them out, and putting them inside a drawer by his father’s bedside lamp. Once he reached the bottom of the bag, he fished out two packs of dried seaweed, a couple of fruit jellies, and two slices of cream-filled sponge cakes.

“Fucking hell, really? Cake?! Feeding a man pumped with chemo cake?! I told that asshole exactly what I wanted him to buy! Porridge with vegetables, not cake!” Sungchan exclaimed, angrily shoving some of the food back into the bag.

“That’s… a weird mixup.”

“Weird indeed. God, he’s insufferable.” Sungchan said. “Dad, want some cake?”

His father didn’t respond.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?” Sungchan repeated louder, resulting in a firm no that his father was able to mouth.

“How about you?” Sungchan turned to ask you.

“I’m also alright,” You answered.

After sitting with Sungchan and his father for a while, Sungchan took you to the smoking area outside of the hospital and slipped a cigarette between his lips, crossing his arms tightly as he held the filter with his fingers. Some of the patients in hospital gowns were also outside, smoking while counting the cars that passed by the entrance’s driveway.

“That old woman in the wheelchair keeps looking at me. The one over there, with the glasses and a pink nightgown,” Sungchan whispered, eyes twinkling.

“I don’t know, what more do you want me to say? ‘Oh, Sungchan, you’re so handsome that all the ajhummas in the hospital want you!’ Do you want me to say that?”

“Maybe seeing a handsome guy such as myself keeps them with things to think about. You know, get them all excited. I be they haven’t felt like that in a long time.”

“Seriously?” You sighed. Sungchan stared at the smoke that swirled from his cigarette.

“You know,” Sungchan started, fishing his hands in his pocket and slipping another cigarette from the pack into his mouth. “He’s not so bad. He can say terrible things, but deep down, he really loved my mom with such intensity, even though he’s a little timid and cannot run a business properly. People don’t really like him because he can be blunt at times, but he’s definitely a lot better than the frauds out there who go around thinking they’re tough shit for knowing big words or being in a gang. I’m just as stubborn as he is, so we tend to fight a lot, but he’s not a bad guy.”

Sungchan took your hand as if it were fragile, carefully placing it on his lap. He used his thumbs to rub your palm in repeated circles, eyes looking into yours for over a minute.

“Sorry to bring you here out of all places, but can you stay with me for a bit longer?” He asked, a soft tinge in his voice begging for you to stay.

“I can stay with you for as long as you want. I mean, I did say I’m free on Sundays.” You replied with a smile.

“What do you usually do? You know, apart from reading the daily paper and sipping coffee at five in the goddamn morning.”

“Laundry?” You replied.

“What about your boyfriend?”

“Same as you. I don’t really know if I could call him that, and it’s really complicated right now. I don’t really know how to explain it,”

“That’s alright, but do you mind me asking what I think is going on?” Sungchan asked.

“Sure, I bet it’s miles more interesting than the truth,”

“He’s married, isn’t he?” Sungchan said, unwavering confidence in his voice that convinced you otherwise that his grand fantasies could maybe become a reality. “Forty or something, rich, and was once handsome. Drives foreign cars like a Benz or a BMW and wears shoes made of pure leather, with suits hand-tailored for him from the most expensive department stores here in Seoul. He’s hungry for lust, and he’s into super kinky things. The two of you meet after your shift at the library on weekdays and do all sorts of things to each other's bodies: he ties you up in crazy positions, puts a gag on you, has different kinds of whips, and you sit there enjoying all of that. His wife and kids have Sundays to themselves to eat big dinners and spend time together. That’s why he can’t see you then. Is that correct?”

“Interesting,”

“He loves taking pictures of you, too, and has a really expensive camera that he uses to take all sorts of pictures of you in many positions, including when he puts all sorts of weird things inside of you. It’s like every single time you meet him, he gets kinkier. He’s always planning what type of toys and liquids he’d use on you, and he makes you come at least three times in crazy positions that break your legs and twist your body. He then talks about how because he’s older, he’s more experienced, and that you’ll never ever find the same satisfaction in younger boys anymore because he’s satisfied you so much. Makes you feel good.”

“I think you frequent the porn cinemas too much,” You flatly replied, dreading the next few words that would come out of his mouth with a twisted, mild curiosity.

“I do, actually. I was kind of worried that I come off that way, but if you want, we can go to a screening sometime soon,”

“Alright, when you’re free,” You said.

“You’re not joking?” Sungchan asked with an ecstatic shock in his voice that you had never heard from him before, as if you were the first person who had acknowledged his presence in his whole life.

“Nope. Show me what sort of things you watch.”

“Alright, there’s a BDSM one with pee and shit everywhere. Some pirated German one they found. I’ve never seen it yet, but I do like watching the ones that are a bit more deranged. It’s interesting.”

“Sounds fun,”

“My favorite ones are the gang bang scenes, because you think to yourself ‘How the hell do they get seven people to fuck each other like that? Swallowing cum and pee at the same time?’ It’s like going to a cafeteria and having people all drink water super loud at the same time!”

When the two of you returned to the hospital room, Sungchan filled the air with his chatty voice, only to be met with a dead wall of silence. The only thing he could get out from his father was a firm nod, a shake, or a grunt—and, if he was lucky, a string of groans. Two hours had passed, and an old, healthy man, presumably the old woman's husband with her curtains all opened, came inside the room to change her gown and peel some fruits for her. Despite the signs of age, he was a tall, athletic-looking man—somewhat stocky but firm in muscle. His face was inviting and kind, and his smile emphasized the lines on his cheeks, brightening him back ten years or so. He shared a lot of small talk with Sungchan, and by the time the two had started talking, a nurse arrived with a tray of needles and medicine, speaking to Sungchan while the old man excused himself out the door. Your eyes wandered around the room towards the window, tracing the trajectory of the electricity pole’s power lines. Every now and then, crows would perch on the lines, elongating their necks in surveillance of the whole neighborhood. Sungchan talked to his father and wiped the sweat around his body, helping him spit phlegm into a trash can occasionally while chatting with the old man, who came back and exchanged pleasantries with you.

The doctors usually did their rounds at the hour, so you stepped outside with Sungchan in the corridor. When one of them came out, Sungchan’s eyes widened, and he rushed to his side, greeting him with a firm bow and asking him how his father was doing.

“He seems fine after the surgery, obviously drained from energy, but we’ll still need a few days to assess him and evaluate the results of the operation. If he’s alright by then, he can probably go home, and if not, we’ll discuss further with your brother,” The doctor said.

“Are you not gonna take his other ball?”

“If you put it that way, then it depends. We can’t know until we’ve seen the results,”

A patient’s condition and prognosis were challenging to tell with doctors. Though you didn’t know too much, it was always the impression that you got from them. Armed with a clipboard that tells you more about yourself than you will ever know in your entire lifespan, yet shrouded in ciphers, you must decode through medical language and terms you would’ve never encountered. There was simply no easy way to tell if you were doing well or not when the doctor couldn’t even give a concrete answer. It was always the good news followed by the bad or the bad followed by a string of intricate phrases and words that you couldn’t care much about as soon as you left the hospital.

With Sungchan’s father, though, everything was transparent. It was almost as if you could see his fate through the reflection of the glasses that kept inching closer and closer to the doctor’s nose. No matter how much he pushed it up, it always slid down the bridge and onto the tip of his nose, where it dangled until he had to push it up again. He should probably throw those out and switch to contacts.

After the doctor finished his rounds, a nurse entered the room, pushing a trolley with trays stacked on each other. Sungchan took one and carefully balanced it on his long arms, placing it down after reclining his father’s seat upright. He gently took the hot bowl of congee onto the makeshift table, then used a butter knife to slice up some fruits and debone the boiled fish that came with his father’s meal. With each spoonful he gave to his father, the life that had been drained out of him slowly came back. After four or so spoonfuls, he had enough to slowly raise his hand and stop the spoon from entering his mouth.

No more, he mouthed.

“God, you're hopeless, aren’t you? If you don’t eat more, you’re gonna die! You need to have your intestines functioning at least, so you can shit properly and not get constipated,” Sungchan complained, but to no avail. His father fervently shook his head, and Sungchan gave up, proceeding to turn his attention back to you with a tired frown.

“Come, let’s go down to the cafeteria,” he requested.

You promptly nodded and followed him down the elevator, letting your nose adjust to the stench of antiseptic that wafted across the entire building. Once the two of you reached the cafeteria on the ground floor, he offered to buy you some sandwiches and rice balls, but you declined. You couldn’t bring yourself to have an appetite when the entire cafeteria was packed with doctors, nurses, patients, and visitors. All the conversations that wafted and stayed in the air all talked about sickness, never health. It passed through you like a tunnel, where one after the other, another form or fragment of injury seemed to fill your head with the worst fate that terminal illness could offer. Every so often, the PA system would slice through the cafeteria with screeching static for a patient or a staff member.

When Sungchan returned with two portions of rice, cabbage stew, and ban chan, you tried your best to chew half of it, leaving the rest for him to finish. He didn’t look up throughout his lunch, nodding with glee as he hounded his meal to the last mouthful.

“You barely touched your food,” he asked. This was the first time he’s looked up since he came back with the meals.

“I don’t know, I’m just not hungry,” you replied.

“I get it. Hospitals don’t really equate to hunger, especially when you’re not used to the place. I mean, god, the smells! That antiseptic or whatever they use sure keeps you full. Being in an environment with so much stress, anxiety, disappointment, pain, and fatigue—that’s what does it to your stomach, grabbing your appetite and beating it to a pulp until it’s dead. The thing is, though, it’s not a problem once you get used to it. And you can’t really take care of someone when you’re hungry. I know this. I was on an empty stomach when my grandpa was at the hospital for cancer, and then I ate a little when my grandma was here. By the time it got to my mom, I got the routine in my head and ate before going to the hospital. Now, it’s my dad. By this point, I’m too used to coming here, and I can eat here just fine. You never know when you’re gonna have to basically live here, so it’s important to eat when you can.”

“That makes sense,” you nodded.

“Whenever our relatives come to visit, they leave their food just like you. Then they tell me that I’m strong because I can eat despite being upset. What a load of crap! I’m the only one taking care of him! All they have to do is come every now and then and drop their faux sympathies! I’m the one who wipes his ass and makes sure his balls don’t hurt! I helped change his IV drips and fed him! If sympathy were all it took to clean his shit up, then he would be better by now! Instead, they see me eating here and say all that crap about me being strong. What the hell do they think they are? I mean, they’re old enough to know how this world works, so why are they so dumb? It’s so easy to talk big unless you’re not in the position of wiping some old guy’s ass up. Like, do they not think this hurts me just as much, if not more? Do they not think about it hurting so much that I just want to cry? How do they think I feel when I watch a horde of doctors cut my dad’s balls up, doing it again and again? To top it all off, you see your savings depleted. I was lucky enough to make it to my third year, but what then? He’ll surely die before I graduate, and that’s one more year! At this rate, I don’t even think my brother can afford to get married!”

“How many times do you come here?” You asked, taking a soup spoon to stir some of the cold stew in your tray.

“Depends. Usually four times a week, and they do promise all-around care from the nurses, but there’s too much for them to do around here. It’s an understaffed hospital. Some of our relatives come here to help. My brother’s got the shop, and I have to finish university. Even then, he comes here three times a week, and we sneak in past visiting hours when we can. It’s a full commitment, I tell you,”

“How do you have time to spend with me when you’re so busy?”

“I enjoy spending time with you,” Sungchan said with a smile.

“Get out of here. Take a walk or something, I don’t know, just leave. I’ll take care of your father,” you demanded. At this point, you were already stood up. You had both trays in your hands with all the rubbish piled up on Sungchan’s empty bowls. He remained seated, eyes widening enough to encase all the fluorescent lights’ reflections into his brown, swirling irises.

“What, why?”

“You need to leave the hospital. It’s not helping you relax,” you explained, sighing. “You need something that can clear your mind up, even just by a little bit,”

As he prepared his body to stand up from his chair, he sank again, allowing his back to merge with the flimsy plastic touching his bare neck. After a minute, he stood up again and nodded.

“Do you know what to do, though? It’s a lot of work,”

“I think so. I’ve been watching you do it, and I think I got it. Check the IV drip, give him water, wipe his sweat off, and adjust his oxygen mask occasionally when he coughs, making sure they collect the phlegm. If he gets hungry, I feed him some jellies or the rest of his lunch on the bedside table. If I don’t know what to do, I’ll just ask the nurse,”

“Perfect,” Sungchan replied, grinning from ear to ear. “There’s just one thing, though: he can say weird shit because of all the medication, some jibberish that no one can understand. If he says anything that hurts you, try to ignore it. It’s not him, it’s the medication.”

“Got it,” you saluted.

Once the two of you were back in the room, Sungchan told his father that he had someone from the soccer team to phone and that you would be watching him while he sorted things out with the team. His father didn’t move or open his mouth. You figured it didn’t concern him if it had nothing to do with him. He remained lying on his back, eyes shut while his head was cocked up to the white ceiling. Had he not periodically opened his eyes to blink once in a while, you could’ve sworn he had flatlined.

Whenever he did muster the courage to open his eyes, they were stained with swirls of red, making him look hungover. His nostrils noticeably flared up and down whenever he breathed, and his eyebrows would twitch whenever he had to open his eyes. Besides that, he had little to no movement, and he never tried to respond to Sungchan.

After Sungchan had left the room, you didn’t know what to say to his father, let alone how to start a conversation with someone who didn’t give you a response. So, you kept quiet for a while, watching him slowly succumb to sleep. You took one of the chairs by the window and leaned closer to look at the way his nose twitched, hoping that he wouldn’t die while you were here. How would it feel to have a strange woman your son had brought to die by your side?

It was easier to sympathize with the dead than a vegetable.

He was, alas, not dying. He was simply sleeping peacefully, with gargled breath and a twitching nose. You brought your ears closer to his face, hearing his faint, weak breathing. Heaving a sigh of relief, you got up and greeted the husband of the old woman next door. The only thing that came out of his mouth was any good word about Sungchan, assuming you were his girlfriend.

“Sungchan’s a really good guy,” he said. “He takes care of his father, and he’s so kind and sensitive. To top it all off, he has a face of an actor. I’m sure he treats you right, and always be by his side. He’s going through a tough time right now, and I’m sure you won’t find anyone like him.”

“I try my best to treat him right,” you replied casually.

“I have kids at home. One’s eighteen, just out of high school, and the other, twenty-two, probably around you and Sungchan’s age. Neither of them want to visit! They said the hospital smells, and the minute they’re out of school, they never think twice about visiting. They just play around, go on dates, go on with their lives. They only come around to ask me for some pocket money.”

About an hour had passed, and the man got up to wave goodbye. You didn’t know if he would come back, but you could see that both Sungchan’s father and the old woman were deep in sleep. The gentle, marmalade rays of the sunlight poured into the room, and the warmth that wafted in the air made you feel like you were slowly drifting into a benign, mindless nap. The faded pink of the Dahlias by the old woman’s bedside drawer signaled the end of the summer, and the remnants of boiled fish swirled around the room. You could hear the low chatter of the nurses just outside in the hallway, sneakers squeaking and squealing with the wagons they had to push back and forth throughout their shift. Every so often, one of the nurses would poke her head into the room, quietly sliding the door to glance around. Then, they would flash you a small smile. You wished there was a magazine or a newspaper that you could pick up and read to kill time, but there was nothing of the sort nearby, and you didn’t want to bother any of the nurses when you weren’t even a patient at the hospital.

Oddly, the hospital reminded you of Eunseok. Perhaps it was because of Ujeong Inn, but you could picture him wearing nothing underneath the blanket in one of the beds. You thought of the softness of his jet-black hair and the lean, bony muscles that felt fragile between your fingertips. Then, you wondered why he was here, of all places. The more you thought of him, the less apparent his existence seemed—almost like a wavering, hazy fantasy you conjured up in a daze. And the more you thought of him, the more uncertain you became of the night you spent with him at Ujeong Inn. If you told yourself that it did happen, then it did, and if you thought of it as a daydream, then it was just that, a daydream. Some of the details felt too real for it to be anything you could think of, but too ethereal to have been based in actuality.

Eunseok and the moonlight; an trick of the eye that trickled to the hairs of your skin.

Sungchan’s father suddenly stirred up, raspy breaths accompanying a dry heave. You quickly snapped out of your daydream and helped him spit his phlegm out into a handkerchief, disposing of it before coming back to wipe his sweat with a fresh towel.

“Would you like some water?” You asked. He responded with a weak, but firm nod. You poured some of the water from a plastic bottle into his glass, and controlled his sips a little at a time.

It was difficult for you to discern if he wanted more or if he wanted you to stop. It seems that larger movements physically hurt him.

“More?” You asked. He shook his head.

“Are you hungry? What about some fruits?”

He shook his head again. You wiped his mouth with the same towel and adjusted the bed flatly before taking the trays and cutlery onto the visitor’s table.

“Was the food good?” You asked. He fervently shook his head, then deepening the wrinkles of his eyebrows.

“I know, I know,” you tried to sympathize with him. Sungchan’s father indecisively opened and closed his eyes as he lay completely flat on the bed, turning his head to face you. Did he know who you were? Had Sungchan talked about you to him on his last visits? He seemed quite relaxed to be laying next to a stranger, and he was definitely quieter with you than he ever was with Sungchan. Perhaps he thinks you’re Sungchan? Or someone else?

“It’s a nice day out,” you started, resting your chin on your palm as you crossed your legs. “Winter’s coming soon, but the temperature hasn’t dropped significantly. It’s still warm enough for me to do my laundry outside, and you’re better off here than out in the city. The pollution’s getting worse because of more factories built up in the East, and the crowds! My god, they’re exhausting to deal with. I’d rather stay home and iron my clothes. I used to be bad at it, almost burning my shirts, but I’ve gotten better. Now, I can make things look perfect, and none of my clothes have any wrinkles on them at all! Spotless and brand new! Today was a perfect day for laundry and ironing, but that’s okay, I can wake up early tomorrow morning and take care of it all. Sundays are always free, and I always have nothing to do.”

“When I sort out my laundry tomorrow, I go to class with Sungchan. We take a lot of classes together, but econometrics is the one we’re taking tomorrow. It’s nothing really interesting, and I don’t particularly enjoy it. It’s just statistics adapted to fit economics, and most of the stuff we do, like regression analysis, has already been done and mastered in some of the more math-intensive courses.”

“What I enjoy in most of my courses is reading essays by economists who think beyond the scope of what we think the economy encompasses. I find that economics works better with the math all removed, even if most scholars say it’s the math that adds a solid foundation to it. Sure, I do agree to a certain extent, but you can’t quantify real-life behaviors. I mean, how are we supposed to calculate every one's utility when every person has a different level of satisfaction? People also don’t seem to take into account the difference in culture. I mean, yeah, the American model of capitalism and consumerism relies on so-called notions of freedom of choice, but Korean society consists of savers. We have been taught to save for a very long time, and that’s one thing we can’t erase. It’s rude to spend, and because of that, we can’t just adopt capitalism as a structure. We need to be aware of what makes us different from the rest, and then think about adapting to a new type of accumulation that stimulates overall growth without throwing away the lessons that we’ve been taught by our ancestors. That has nothing to do with econometrics, but that’s pretty much the kind of stuff Sungchan and I study at university,”

Sungchan’s father had said nothing, keeping his dim eyes on you the entire time you were talking. Of course, it was difficult to tell if he actually understood anything you said to him.

“Alright, I’ll go now,”

Sungchan’s father responded in a way that made you remember that he was once a human capable of speech.

“No, please stay,” he whispered through the lumps of phlegm on his throat. After conversing with yourself, you nodded and returned to your seat, feeling parched and starved. You didn’t eat anything for breakfast and ate half your lunch. Now, you regretted not being able to finish your portion, but you realized quickly that feeling sorry for yourself wouldn’t help you at all. You stood up again and reassured the man that you were staying put, unzipping the large duffel bag by the foot of his bed for something to eat. Rummaging through the pockets and corners of the bag, you only fished out some cough drops and an unopened pack of instant congee. Then, your eyes flicked back onto the slices of cake that were just beside you on the table.

“Do you mind if I eat this piece of cake? I’m getting a bit hungry,” you asked. Sungchan’s father didn’t answer. You took a slice of chocolate cake and pulled a small, heaping piece with your fingers, careful not to leave any icing between your nails.

“Delicious, but decadent. Too much cream, and it’s a little too sweet! I think they got this from the French bakery that just opened near the station,” you remarked. You scraped off more of the icing and siphoned off a second heaping—this time, a larger mouthful than the first. The only thing you could hear in the room was your teeth gnawing at the soft sponge. After this mouthful, you decided to take a break, taking another fresh towel from the bag to wipe your fingers. You boiled some water in a kettle by the end of the corridor and made tea for the two of you.

“Do you want something to drink?” You asked, coming back with two mugs filled with corn tea.

“Cake,” he whispered.

“Alright, a small slice like that will do. What side do you want? The end bits with more cream, or the middle with more sponge?”

“Sponge,” he replied with a nod. You adjusted the bed again to how Sungchan had left it when he felt his father. Then, you used a pair of disposable chopsticks from the duffel bag to cut the cake in quarters, flying it into the patient’s mouth like an airplane. After a stern, unreadable expression, Sungchan’s father’s mouth moved from cheek to cheek, finally swallowing the piece after a while.

“Is that good?” He nodded.

“Things are better when food tastes good, no? Tasting good food and feeling good about it is kind of proof that you’re alive,”

He had an entire slice of cake. After he was finished, you filled his glass with water and controlled his sips. He motioned for the bathroom as soon as he was done with his glass, so you took a cup from the foot of his bed and held it under his penis. When he signaled to you that he was done, you emptied its contents in the toilet and washed the cup clean. By the time you came back, you could only throw the tea out where his urine went.

“How are you feeling now?” You asked.

“Head… hurts.” He replied.

“I mean, you did have an operation. I’ve never had one in my entire life, so I don’t know what it’s like.”

“Gongdeok ticket to Sungchan,” he suddenly whispered, saying more than you believed he was capable of.

“Gongdeok,” he repeated. “Sungchan,”

“Gongdeok?”

“Please,” he said. “Sungchan”

You couldn’t connect or decipher what he said, so you kept quiet. He, too, was silent for a while. Occasionally, he would muster the exact words again: Gongdeok, ticket, Sungchan. He opened his eyes, peering at you as if demanding your full attention. You knew he was trying to tell you something, but you couldn’t begin to imagine what was so important for you to know.

All you knew then was that any sign of lifelessness was suddenly animated in his deep, pressing gaze. He now had the strength to raise his arm at you and gripped your wrist tight. This must have had an incredible effect on him, so you returned the favor by slipping your hand in his. With what little remaining strength he could muster, he squeezed your hand and mouthed the word please, now even quieter than a whisper or a secret.

“No worries, I’ll go take care of Sungchan and Gongdeok,” you responded haphazardly. Then, he suddenly fell flat, chest heaving up and down as a faint snore drifted into your ears. You put two of your fingers next to his lymph nodes to check if he was alive, then, once you felt a pulse, headed out to the hallway for a quick walk. The moment you slid the door of the room shut and allowed the change in environment to settle within you, you realized that you’d grown a liking for this old, shriveled man on the verge of death.

The old man came back a few moments later, greeting you in the hallway to ask if everything was alright. The only thing you could give him was a frail nod, then excusing yourself to meet Sungchan outside.

Before you could descend the stairs, you saw him extend a wave toward you at the bottom of the staircase, quickly jogging up to catch up with you.

“I was just in the parking lot, counting the cars until I fell asleep.” He started. “I did what you told me to do. I just sat there and let my head get empty.”

“How are you feeling now?” You asked.

“Much better. I’m still tired, but I feel lighter than I ever felt before. I think I’m more tired than I realize.”

Sungchan’s father was now fast asleep, and there was nothing for the two of you to do, so you went back down to the cafeteria to buy coffee, then stepped out again to smoke. You filled Sungchan in with what happened after he left—that his father slept soundly, then woke up to eat his lunch and a whole slice of cake, then peed.

“No way, no fucking way.” Sungchan said, startled. “You got him to finish his dinner tray and have him eat half a piece of cake! That’s amazing!”

“We were all out here going nuts over him starving himself and refusing any food he gave us, but you got him to finish his food!”

“I think he just saw me enjoy the cake and wanted some too,”

“Either that or you have this thing in you that just relaxes people,”

“Doubt it, I think a lot of people say I’m unsettling,” you laughed.

“So?” Sungchan asked, shifting the bottle of canned coffee between his hands. “What did you think about my dad?”

“He’s nice. I mean, I couldn’t have a proper conversation with him, but he seems nice.”

“He was quiet, wasn’t he?”

“Very.”

“God, he was much worse a week ago. He went wild in there! Throwing his food around and shit. Telling us that he hoped we’d die. Cancer does that to people. It’s probably the fact that chemo literally kills your cells, but it was the same with my mom. At the last part of her illness, when she was on the brink of death, she yelled at me and said I wasn’t his son. Deep down, I know it wasn’t her, but it affected me so much that I couldn’t bring myself to see her for a while. To think your own mother would say something distasteful, right?”

“I get it,” you replied, then suddenly remembered the string of words that Sungchan’s father had uttered.

“A ticket to Gongdeok? What the hell is he trying to say?”

“Then he said ‘Please’ and ‘Sungchan.’ He either meant, ‘Please take care of Sungchan,’ or he wanted you to go to Gongdeok and buy a ticket. It was such a mess that I couldn’t understand any of it, but who knows? Does Gongdeok ring any bells?”

Sungchan pondered on the collection of words for while.

“The only thing I can think of was running away from home, then going to Gongdeok to take the airport link to Gimpo. Back then, when I was ten or so, I was stupid enough to think I could just buy a plane ticket at the desk. I’d heard about a nice aunt who lived in America, so I went to the airport, went to a desk, and asked for a ticket to America, but she refused! Said she would call my house, and I refused to give her an address! Soon enough, though, my dad came to pick me up from Gimpo and then bought me lunch at the airport. He talked to me about all sorts of things, like the war and how he was exempt from conscription because of his astigmatism but still served military service when he was young. Come to think of it, that was the only time I’ve ever had a long conversation with him. God, I wonder what he was like in military service. Lord knows if I’d be like him when I serve.”

“Aren’t you supposed to serve now?” You asked.

“Who knows? I haven’t been called on yet. I think it has something to do with my mom dying, and now my dad being ill. My brother was unlucky, though, he finished his service right as my mom got diagnosed, so he came home from all of that chaos only to find more at home. Anyway, on the train, he told me all sorts of stories. Stuff about the Japanese in Korea, the Americans coming to Seoul, and then, Vietnam! I didn’t even know where that was as a kid, but all his stories always ended with him saying something like, ‘Sungchan, the world’s the same everywhere we go.’ A bit of a depressing conclusion to say to a ten-year-old, but his stories really impressed me.”

“I see,”

“See what?”

“Why your dad said that,” you muttered under your breath.

“Did you ever run away from home?” Sungchan asked, cocking his head to the side.

“No,”

“Why not?”

“Never thought about it,”

“God, you’re weird!” He exclaimed, as if impressed by your every answer. “Every kid has that point in their life, no?”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“So, what did you say to my dad after that?”

“I just said I’d take care of you and Gongdeok.”

“Really? You told him you’d take care of me?”

Sungchan looked you straight in the eyes with a grave expression.

“Yeah, I did, but I really didn’t know what he was saying, and—”

“Don’t worry, I get what you’re trying to say,” he laughed.

After Sungchan had finished his cigarette, the two of you returned to the room. His father was still fast asleep, and you could still hear his faint snores falling up and down into your ears, as if you had pressed them near his mouth. As the skies turned violet, the lights in the hospital flicked to a dim shade of yellow, reflecting the colors of dead leaves. The flock of birds once perched on the utility pole had all fluttered away. You and Sungchan sat by the window next to his father’s bed, trying your best to exchange words in low conversation. He took the empty mug where you dumped out your cold tea and attempted to read the fortune written in the black specs that adorned the white ceramic, and told you that you would go past a hundred, get your heart broken in a divorce, then die. At the same time, everyone watched you get a heart attack in the grocery store.

Sungchan’s father woke up at dusk, and Sungchan took his chair, moving it next to his father’s bedside drawer. He wiped the sweat off his forehead, gave him some water straight out of the bottle, and asked him about any pains in his body. A nurse had come by a few moments later to take his temperature, record any of his vitals, and check the IV drips for any faults. You returned to the cafeteria and watched the news on the television.

After an hour, you returned and told Sungchan you were leaving. To his father, you told him that you had to go back home to study. He turned his head towards you and twitched the corners of his mouth.

“Thank you so much for today,” Sungchan said when he walked you to the exit.

“I mean, I didn’t really do anything at all, to be honest, but I’ll come by next week. I’d like to see your father again,” you said.

“Really?”

“Being alone in that apartment can get to me from time to time, and who knows? Your brother might bring cake again,”

Sungchan folded his arms and tapped his feet.

“Well, I’d like to go out with you again,” he said, a valiant smirk etched on his face.

“What about the porn cinema you promised?”

“We can do that first and then go out to eat while talking about the usual disgusting things that we talk about,”

“You’re the one who brings it up!”

“Sounds like a plan, no? Get super drunk in the afternoon and then pass out in bed,”

“What other fantasies do you have in mind?”

“We’ll see,” you replied defeatedly. “But I’ll pick you up next week. I’ll try to beat the daily papers, and we can come here together.”

With that, you bade Sungchan farewell.

post mortem: THIS IS PART TWO OF NEVER MEANT. I REPEAT. PART TWO! GO READ THAT ONE IF YOU HAVEN'T YET. PART THREE COMING SOON

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h5eavenly · 5 months

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Fifty- Flickers Of The Past II.

Warnings: heavy angst, hyunyn being stupid, sexual assault (it's not graphic or detailed but i put a little X right before it in case it triggers you and you want to skip)

wc: 9.1k

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The air smelled sweet, filled with glisters of memories and feelings you promised to bury last year. peaches, fresh and an abiding reminder of the oaths you had splintered between you and yourself. an oddity that only seems to be right in the tight space of Hyunjin’s room. Light blue colored walls equivalent to crashing waves of the ocean alongside the saltiness in the air sweeping in through his window has you slowly seeping in an almost comfortable siesta. Summer, the beach, the sweetness that had lingered on your tongue are all alluring you to the love embodied in him. You find yourself in the same mazes of vows you repeat to yourself, whispering to every passing pink colored rose that you will stop soon, you’ll just love him till next week, till next month, next six months, till the end of the year and you will stop then.

Yet his bracelet is still tight around your wrist and your heart is singing his name as if no other song can even exist at the same time as him.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin who was mere inches away from you. He is sprawled on his bed. The sound of his pencil gliding across the papers of his sketchbook in drawings you’re unaware of fills the silence in the room. Along with his rust covered fan, providing assist to the growing heat of the sun. You turn your head from where you’ve been lying on his carpeted floor, a pillow he threw at you earlier is beneath your crossed arms as you stare at him. As if mountains of worlds had nestled themselves between you, and you are nothing but a worthless rock at his doorstep, without cease for even a moment, a brush of his eyelashes over his cheeks when he blinks your way would surely be enough.

You long for him.

An invisible string ties itself around your ankle and holds you in place and swears to keep you in check. Never too far in. Never too excited, never too hopeful, and filled with infinite patience.

Hyunjin has grown a little taller with the passing days that had blended into your junior year of high school, his shoulders a little broader. Hair strands growing longer at an uncomfortable length right at the nape of his neck. You know all these silly little things, all the little details that have made their way into your memory and taken their claim there, having your eyes follow him whenever he’s near had become second nature. Spending time in his small room, listening to all the lectures his mom threw his way. Whether it be his worsening smoking habits or telling him to cut off his hair already. It’s all so unnecessary to remember but you do, you always do. The weight of them grows heavier each passing day and you wonder how your mind finds space to keep him.

And when Hyunjin finally notices your adoring eyes, never with the same adoration he looks back at you with a raised brow. A different glint in his stare that has the weight on your chest grow into an even more of a substantial threat, has your heart picking speed in yearning that’s never gonna be met.

How more foolish can your heart ever grow to be?

“Why do you keep staring at me? Are you in love with me or something angel?” The curl of his smirk brings faux annoyance to your features, wearing them proudly to hide the darkening color of your cheeks.

“You wish, asshole.” You grumble under your breath, turning your head like his walls are more worthy of remaining crumbs of your attention. Hyunjin only snorts in reply, resuming the scribbles of his pencil.

How foolish is all you can say to yourself when you move to stand up, ignoring the tugging of the string around your ankle, telling you to sit still. A warning that falls on your deafening ears.

You’re continuously losing yourself only to stumble upon yourself too far in. too excited, too hopeful, and never patient enough.

“What are you drawing?” you ask with a playful smile on your pretty face, endearing and more than anything dangerous. Hyunjin uses his body as a cover, stretching his arms to shield his sketchbook from your eyes.

“None of your business.”

“Come on. Show me” you pout, trying to peak at his hidden drawing but to no avail.

“No,” Hyunjin is stubborn, almost childishly so. It shows in the way he tries to keep sketching even with how uncomfortable his position has become.

“Hyunjin.”

“Y/N.”

“Show me.” You order for the last time, crossing your arms with squinted eyes that only makes you even look more adorable, he tries not to find you endearing as he sits up. Legs crossed on his bed and with a teasing smirk he slowly shakes his head at you.

You attack him, jumping on top of him with broken giggles and hands reaching for his sketchbook that he grabs first. An advantage in his longer arms as he pushes it under his pillow when he falls back on his sheets with the force of your body.

“You failed yet again, how sad.” He says mockingly, circling your wrists with his hands and holding you still on top of him. You fall quiet, way too aware of the position you placed yourself in, on his bed and on top of his body, in between his scent and all his belongings. The brush of his palms on the skin of your wrists, his breaths have his chest falling up and down and you feel it. You feel him under you. Your heart is constricting in your lungs with each breath of his.

“Let go of me.” You huff, wrestling against the hold he has on you.

“You jump me and now you’re telling me to let you go?” he teases, an amused look on his face as he watches you fight in hopeless attempts. He moves to hold both of your wrists in one hand while he uses the other one to sit up “Don’t tell me you’re shy now?” he muses as he brings his face closer to you and you lean back before a blush sprouts on your face. An undressing of your emotions that you run away from me.

“As if. You’re ugly and you smell bad.” You feign disgust, lips curling into a tight-lipped smile that you know annoys him.

“You’re heavy anyways.” He grumbles, rolling his eyes at you as his grip on you finally relents and you roll off him with a breath of relief that you hope he won’t notice.

“Hey, I’m on a diet.” You whisper, refusing to look at him and keeping your eyes glued to his ceiling. You try not to think about his hand brushing against yours when he lies next to you.

“Clearly it isn’t working.”

It’s a joke, one that he had thrown at you one too many times, yet it still stings. Right at the same scabbed scar your mom had been picking at ever since you could remember, it won’t close. There’s no way for it to close and his words only dig deeper at it, it falls right into it and you once again feel like nothing but a big open wound. You fall quiet, in a sadness that cannot be explained. It is between your overflowing feelings for the boy next to you and the lack of remorse you feel for your own self-hatred.

“What are you thinking about?” Hyunjin asks, propping his head on his elbow, and turning to the side to look at you. He stops the growing frown between your brows with his pointer finger. It doesn’t belong there, surely doesn’t when you look at him with those soft eyes of yours.

“School dance,” you lie.

“What? No one asked you and now you’re sad?” He raises an eyebrow at you, pushing your face away with his pointer finger when you attempt to bite him.

“Actually, I got asked three times just today.”

“Oh yeah? By whom?”

“Han from chem class, Ryujin from math and your friend Seungmin.”

“Seungmin asked you to the school dance?” he snorts, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes you at his face. Your blue feelings are pushed to the side for now.

“He didn’t tell you?” You tilt your head to look at him and the simplicity of how you act is enough for him to hold his breath, makes his insides churn and he finds himself falling into the nameless lullaby his heart sings around you. Soft, tender, and confusing.

“You better have said no.” he whispers as his fingers reach for you in scarce honesty when they brush the strands of hair over your forehead. No one has ever touched you this softly before, no one has ever been this soft when they looked at you, no one has ever managed to have you before him.

No one has ever made you this clumsy, this careless with your heart. How could you let it be stolen so easily? How could you fall for someone who carries angels in his eyes and the benevolence of the sun in his fingertips? And how could you possibly still languish after him, in hopes for him to ever look at you?

“Why? Are you scared I’ll date your best friend?” the fingers that have been gently twirling your hair turn cruel, pulling at them slightly with enough vigor to sting and you wince in pain, slapping his hand away.

“What the fuck Hyunjin?”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“Okay you didn’t have to pull my hair.” You complain with a pout, stealing his breath and anger away with your mere existence.

“Sorry angel.” He sighs before gently massaging the spot where he pulled and you melt, right under his touch and on top of his sheets. Becoming one with everything that is owned by him, one of his many folded clothes in his closest and lodged between his pencils and erasers. There but not loved enough by him to pick you up.

“What about you? Did anyone ask you?” your heart is on the edge, bearing it to him and you realize it’s stupid.

“Yeah, but the boys think I should go with Lia. They’re saying we look good together or whatever.” He speaks so causally, as if your heart isn’t in the palm of his hand and he just squeezed it with so much force it started bleeding. Aching in maroon and abandoned, akin to a deflated balloon that isn’t fun to play with anymore.

“What do you think? Do you know her?” he asks, looking down at you through his lashes and you break into pieces, the fondness in his eyes is polished, sharp enough to be plunged into you.

Of course you know her, she fits right in with Hyunjin. With the ability to shine through crowds of people and grabbing the attention of every human they pass by. With glitter in their skin and golden sparkles in their hair. They’re everything you’re not. She’s everything you’re not. You who only appears to be some abomination.

“Yeah, I think you’d look good together.”

You’re not sure what kind of answer he had hoped for but you’re more giving than you’d like, your heart is your first enemy, unfair in the way it keeps calling for him even though he never answers.

“Maybe we should go together,” Hyunjin hums, rolling off his bed and stretching his arms above his head in a dramatic manner. At your eerie silence he looks back at you, a pause in his gaze before he grins.

“As friends you know? It would be fun.”

“mhm.”

The silence lingers, settles itself into your bones and around your bleeding heart, and it’s only there to remind you once again of how foolish you are to even hope for a glimmer of Hyunjin, a glance. But it’s never going to happen.

Your hope goes as fast as it comes yet your yearning stays.

Your heart has never known peace, so it seeks solace in the inadvertent scars Hyunjin marks on you, seeks solace in the way you bleed for him. Being in love is so embarrassing it has you soaking his sheets with crimson, leaving behind evidence of your affection that you had promised one day you’ll let go of.

He’ll never look at you the way you look at him.

How foolish.

Months pass by alongside the seasons, turning the weather into frigid wind and collecting clouds every now and then that pours rain over your city. Cold and grey yet summer remains in Hyunjin, in his smile and the dip in his cheeks, in the crinkling sides of his eyes when he’s happy and the scent of his bodywash. It keeps you warm even on days like today where the wind kisses your bare legs with frozen cold lips. The sight of him on the field, running in passion towards his ambitions is enough to have an affable feeling hugging your insides.

You sit by the sidewalk and watch like a little kid, on the bleachers, a home you find pride upon yourself to call. Your notebook that has filled with designs throughout the months lies in your bosom right where it always belongs, a page with an unfinished wedding dress is slowly coming to life between your dancing gaze and the flickers of your pencil. It’s a consequence of huddled thoughts that came to life on random night, turning you into a hopeless dreamer. Imagining yourself in different clothes that will fit whatever scenario your mind had conquered. Hyunjin is constant in each one of them.

This one by far had been the most absurd, you kept rolling in your bed trying to push down the thoughts that had invaded your head late at night, yet they remained. Despite the way you chastised yourself repeatedly you still rolled off the bed because the thoughts of drawing your own wedding dress hadn’t left your mind until it materialized itself on your paper. In your head you’re wearing it when you’re 26, old enough to know what you want and young enough to know you don’t need to waste any more time.

In your head Hyunjin is tucked in every little folder, pages upon page he filled out and in every little story you feed your delusions, he’s your knight in shining armor and in this particular tale he’s waiting for you down the aisle, his hair is even longer and it’s the mid of July, his mother is there and Hanuel who grew up too fast is tearing up. In your head Hyunjin loves you back just as much and when you face him his eyes sparkle with unyielding affection just for you. In your head everything falls perfectly into place.

“Hey Y/N.” your dreams are broken by your rather cold reality when Seungmin is sitting next you.

“Hi.” You clear your throat, a growing blush on your cheeks as you scramble to turn the page over. Refusing to be witnessed in your own acts of dreaming. His eyes flicker between the now empty page and you.

“I’m not disturbing you, am I?”

“Not at all.” You shake your head, pretending like you’re just about to start drawing. Your pencil leaves meaningless lines of graphite behind.

“You never gave me an answer, so I thought I’d come ask you again.”

“An answer for what?”

“The dance.”

“Oh. I thought I’d just go with Han since he asked me first.” You keep your eyes on your notebook, refusing to let a telling of your lie show. You hadn’t expected Seungmin to be sharp enough to cut through it all.

“You’re not saying no to me because of Hyunjin, are you?” your hand halts its movement, paused in their journey of discovering the existence of art without your best friend.

When you look up, gaze forward and they naturally fall on him you find yourself struggling to hold the pieces of your heart together, begging them to hold on for just a little more.

You lied they tell you, you said you’d move on you’d spare us this pain they yell, and you ache not because the sight of Hyunjin is devastatingly beautiful, not this time. You ache because Lia is there, right in his space and right where you don’t belong. You’re pushed to the side once more not by him but by your own infatuation that courses through your divine being. It’s cruel and violently honest when it whispers that this is how things were meant to be. When her hand is brushing his arm, there’s a gentle smile on his face, you fall apart, right on the bleachers you so called home.

“no. nothing is ever because of him.” If you repeat it enough maybe, then it will be true.

“It’s okay Y/N.” he says with his hand enveloping yours in comforting manner, tone soft just like his hands.

You kneel into a dream, where you’re loved by Hyunjin, and summer is always surrounding you.

Your friendship with Seungmin had bloomed in a serendipitous manner, taking your sorrowful days with a momentary bliss that you find yourself looking for when being around Hyunjin gets too overwhelming, too heavy for your shoulders to carry. You look for Seungmin when the weight of your very own sentiment overflows your sanity. The string around your ankle burns, too tight, too hot so you run. Away from Hyunjin and right into Seungmin.

Seungmin was so different than Hyunjin, he was soft where Hyunjin was rough, and dark where Hyunjin was light. It was comforting in a sense that you found hard to explain just because you related to him. A familiar murkiness that had lodged itself in your destiny for as long as you remember. So, you bare your soul to Seungmin, in all the little things you can’t show to Hyunjin, he’s there.

You hadn’t anticipated the fall of it all.

✘

It was a gloomy day, dreadful with rain drenching your clothes in misery you were not conscience enough to grasp it. So, you look for leverage in between the walls of Seungmin’s room, in the flooded clothes he had handed you, you don’t get to dwell on his kindness, on the warmth his clothes provide you because he’s in your space as soon as you’re out of the bathroom and he’s pinning you against the nearest wall, harsh and revolting he presses his frostbitten lips to yours.

Your gasp is swallowed by his monstrous desires and your hands are the weakest weapon, barely are when they push at his shoulders.

“W-what the fuck are you doing?” you shake, terror taking claim on you when you notice how wide blown his eyes are.

“Come on. It’s not like you didn’t know I wanted you.”

You fall into a tussle, right on his floor and you’re overpowered by his figure and then he’s pinning your hands to the ground with unbreakable force. An unrecognizable vile flicker in his eyes, one that you hadn’t noticed before and it has your chest tightening around your heart, struggling to breath as your eyes well up with terrifying tears.

“Seungmin please let go of me. Don’t do this.” You plea with desperation lacing your voice and it cascades down with your tears, achingly familiar with fright.

“It’s okay Y/N. You don’t have to fight me this will be quick.” He voices darkly and your panic grows, translating in the trashing of your legs, futile attempts to break free “No! I don’t want this let go.”

His grip on you grows unrelenting, harsh and it burns when they tighten around your wrists, his hips press your body into the floor, and you feel trapped between him and his dirty floor. It has nausea building in the pit of your stomach and anxiety running through your veins.

“Please Seungmin.” You break and he pauses, eyes dancing over features “Why are you crying Y/N? Did you seriously think I spent all that time with you because I cared? Do you really think someone who’s broken as you is worth anyone’s time?” his words sink themselves into your bones, needles into your flesh and you shake your head. He almost coos at you, hand cupping your cheek as they brush over your tears but they’re endless, almost as endless as your pain.

“Who are you even saving yourself for mhm? Hyunjin? You realize how ridiculous that is right? You should be thankful that I’m giving you a chance and touching you right now. No one else would.”

That night, Seungmin had managed to use every little secret you told him against you, mumbling them into your skin until they became the entirety of you. Your wounds, deep and ugly, too hideous to show are all what makes you, you. And resentment fills you at the trivial thought of your existence. A mere cobblestone that only ever holds everyone else back, has everyone stumbling on you.

You leave Seungmin’s house not even half a person anymore but simply nothing, and you find comfort in the nothingness in your mind, a comfort in the numbness that washes over you with the rain. A silly part of you prays the water washes away the feeling of his hands on you, his lips and maybe to steal your mind with it. So, when you wake up none of this would be real, it would be all just a stupid nightmare that gives you temporary panic.

It has your feet following a familiar route in search of comfort, for a rush of sun that would be lovely enough to sanitize you, yet you’re only allowed to wither away in the cold when you see Hyunjin with Lia right outside his house, he’s holding an umbrella over her head and a hue of pink, and yellow surrounded them. A barrier you’re not allowed to break with your greys, so you leave, a whirlwind of emotions carries you through the night, stormy and ghastly.

Catastrophic of the ever so-called love you held onto, it takes you right to the beach, with frigid air, you weep, wishing for yourself to liquify with the water to be taken away, you wish to dissipate, become one with the wind or maybe to deteriorate into nothing but stardust that will fly away, not big enough to be seen or bright enough for intriguing stares. But you stay, you’re there upon the sands and you’re there in cracks of your painful misery, in the heartbreak flooding you with an immense type of agony, resembles the first heartbreak you experienced while witnessing your father’s betrayal. You’re there right betwixt in the sickening layers that coat you.

You wonder how much of your mother has she left in you? The anger, sadness, and the constant waiting for a man to look back at you only to be pushed aside for someone else, someone better someone who’s not always lingering with insanity in their love. How much of your mother’s destiny are you forced to live? Was this heinous heartbreak in your blood or could it be washed away by the winter rain?

The second time you feel utter despair in your life, you die, leaving behind your body unbeknownst to your departure.

You avoid Hyunjin for three full weeks. It all happens so easily amid fake excuses you throw at him. You no longer wait for him after practice and instead you rush home with half-truths like your mom wants you to be home. You watch Hyunjin’s light grow dimmer and dimmer you each time you avoid his eyes, each time you flinch when he touches you and each time he smiles at you, you drown in your shame. In the memory of his friend’s hands on your body, you have been tainted, inside and out so you must leave. How could you stay by his side when he’s so bright it blinds you.

So, you lock yourself away in ignominy, it takes over you every time you and Seungmin are too close in the same radius and a breath of relief escapes you whenever he passes by and pretends you’re not there, he doesn’t look your way and you grow thankful, somehow indebt to him because now you can pretend none of it was real.

Your running and Hyunjin’s burning for you all accumulates to one random Monday, an aching in his heart that draws him to you, looking for you in the faces of everyone he passes by, in the voices of all the girls that talk to him all day but they’re not you. He looks for you in his sketchbook that has been filled with portraits of you he craved carefully, with heedful attention yet they don’t compare to you. Nothing ever compares to you.

His life was a chaotic mess, noisy and he strives on mayhem, has felt it bloom in the middle of his chest and into the districts of his jumbled-up brain. But you’re so different, you’re in the wind, soundless and gentle, you’re in the masses of the ocean strong and beautiful. So, he learns to love you in silence, from a distance. Hyunjin learns to love the moon just for you while you convulsion in loneliness and yearn for him. Constantly missing the sunlight.

“How was your test?” Han holds the door of the class open for you and you pass by him with a thankful smile, your scent loiters right under his nose.

“Not too bad, you?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything right.”

“As expected of you.” You smile at him, and he immediately looks away with pinking cheeks that you don’t seem to notice, too busy checking through your answers as you navigate your way between the students to your locker.

However, Hyunjin who has been waiting for you right by at it notices, it has his fingers digging into the flesh of his arms in anger. Fresh out of a practice that wasn’t his best. Does not help him in the slightest and instead adds fuel to his already growing anger, it runs straight through his blood, tainting it green with jealously he didn’t know what felt like till he set his eyes on you. It claws at him, plasters itself right in the center of his chest and compresses it into painful tugs.

Why was it so painful to look at you sometimes?

He grits his teeth when the boy next you he doesn’t recognize wraps his arm around your shoulder in caution when you almost bump into one of the students clumsily and you smile at him, mumbling words that he cannot hear, letting another person that isn’t him touch you. It isn’t him so why are you letting it happen?

“Y/N.” He calls when you ‘re close enough and still haven’t spared him a look, too busy listening to whatever nonsense the nerd next to you is saying. Why are you letting a loser like him even be this close to you?

“Oh! Hyunjin.” Your eyes lit up when you see him and yet he fails to notice. Too blinded by his growing possessiveness.

“This is han! From chem class. Remember I told you about him?” Your tone is too cheerful for his liking, and it makes him even more confused, growing angrier at the glowing smile on your pretty face. You were supposed to preserve that for his and his eyes only. How do you dare to throw it around so casually as if it wasn’t dangerous. As if you hadn’t stolen a piece of him with that same smile.

“Hwang Hyunjin, right? I saw your game last week! Dude you’re insane.” The nerdy boy – lanky and comely – Han rambles on, extending his hand out to the taller who doesn’t move an inch. Keep his figure leaned on your locker and his stare hardens into a glare.

“Hyunjin!” you scold in a hushed whisper when Han awkwardly retracts his hand, Hyunjin doesn’t even look at you, keeps his stare glued to the boy as if he looked away something that will only anger him is gonna occur again.

“Okay well! I guess I’m gonna go.” Han’s voice cuts through the awkwardness and the building tension between the glared stares of you and Hyunjin “I’ll see you tonight?” he turns to you, and you nod enthusiastically.

“What was that?” you ask, facing Hyunjin with a raised brow.

“I should be the one asking. What the fuck was that? What does he mean see you tonight?” Hyunjin scowls, features twisting with bitterness.

“The school dance is tonight. I told you he asked me.”

“And I told you we should go together.”

“I didn’t agree to that.” You reply nonchalantly, pushing his shoulder and he moves away from your locker, for you to open it and rummage through your stuff, looking for the book of your next class.

“I don’t know why you’re so against us going together.” He almost whines, annoyed and frustrated at the walls you refuse to break down. At the fact that you have been avoiding him for a while now. He only ever craves you, yet you remain unattainable in ways that only drives him crazy, so he’ll settle for a segment of you, no matter how small or big.

“And I don’t know why you want us to go together so bad.” You shut your locker, throwing him a side look and Hyunjin bites his tongue in attempts to swallow his words down hoping you won’t notice his fidgeting.

“I don’t think Han is good for you. He looks at you weird.” You roll your eyes at his futile tries and he’s growing hopeless.

“We’re just friends, Hyunjin.”

“Friends don’t go to dances together Y/N.”

“What about us then?”

“We’re different.”

“How exactly are we different?” you raise an eyebrow promptly at his words and Hyunjin sighs, defeatedly brushing a hand over his face. He doesn’t know how to answer you, doesn’t know how to tell you that you have contrived to crave open his heart and sat yourself inside. So, he falters instead, hoping your eyes contact is somewhat fulfilling enough for you to listen for once.

“Just go with Lia. Weren’t you telling me all about how pretty she is?” Hyunjin groans louder than you anticipated, capturing the attention of the people around you and so evidently obvious with furiousness when his eyes widen, fliting across your feature “why are you bringing her up now? I don’t understand you Y/N.”

“I don’t understand you either Hyunjin!” you retaliate, your own frustration grows at this seemingly endless discussion that seems to be heading nowhere in direction. At him pretending like he won’t toss you away again when he sees her.

“Just fucking go with me Y/N. Please.” There’s desperation lacing his voice, like he could crumble and fall right at your feet and cry, but he won’t ever tell you about the truth of his feelings, a coward in the act of facing you, facing his growing emotions for you.

“Unless you give me a valid reason then no. you don’t get to order me around.” You shake your head at him, there’s splashes of hurt on your face that he misses, a deflated hope that pokes at you and a hue of grey that reminds you once again of how impolitic you are, and he misses it.

You walk away taking your shine along with you, it drags behind you and leaves the hallway growing cold, cruel, and dark and it looms right on top of his head and body. Filling his limbs with the pain of feeling for you.

Your figure grows further and further away, almost mockingly evoking the stinging reality that he won’t ever get to have you, you’re always slipping between the cracks of his fingers easily. Each time he thought he had a good grip on you, you managed to escape. Leaving him only with a figment of you.

Hyunjin is always missing you.

Later that night when your mother has helped you in a red dress that fitted right onto your body like a glove, there’s a rare almost proud smile on her face as she looks down your reflection in the mirror.

“Your body looks perfect darling.” Your smile doesn’t even look like it belongs there when you force it, your own reflection stares back at you in pity and you wither away alongside your confidence that dies slowly with the brush of her hand.

“Thank you, mommy.”

“I’m so glad you’re not going with that Hwang kid. I was scared you’re gonna end up stuck on him forever.” At the mention of his name your heart falls in your chest and breaks, then it hangs in the air, like it wraps around your throat and you’re fighting against it to breathe.

“He’s not as bad as you think.” You try to defend, tone weak and nowhere near convincing, nowhere near as he is in your heart.

“Your dad saw him smoking with the shady kids from down the street. Trust me when I say he’s not good for you.” She rambles on, disgusted and judgmental as she starts to fold the abandoned yellow dress you refused to put on despite your mom’s likeness, you couldn’t put it on without feeling like a phoney. It resembled the sun too much and you couldn’t bear to feel Hyunjin on your skin anymore. You couldn’t bear to be the only person to be standing in this love anymore.

“Crushes come and go Y/N. believe me when I tell you boys like Hyunjin are never the smart choice.”

Your mother’s words echo in your mind, bumping into the walls of your brain and begging to find meaning in them, truth in the pain that lingers in your chest because of him. Your fingers brush over your bracelet delicately as if his initial is his face and you wish for your warmth to reach him. This feeling bumping life into your heart is lonely, embarrassing and more than anything: persisting. Stubbornly so as it feeds you hope that only breaks your back in half, leaving you walking home only half a person, never full.

You keep selfishly buying specks of the unforgiving sun, collecting them one by one in your soul, keeping count of everything without much effort. It may be fleeting. A minuscule fragment of his smile, his dimple, the mole under his eye. You buy all the time you could afford and spend it watching him unravel his youth in his hobbies, soccer, drawing, dancing and just like a proud mother you cheered, a loving father you had waited and a good friend you listened.

But none of these things could ever change who you are, none of these things have made Hyunjin look at you and he never will.

you who’s still living life in darkness just needed to embrace the truth for once.

And that’s why you had promised yourself to live tonight as a normal teenager would, not a girl who’s broken down by the weight of her dad’s betrayal, not a girl who’s pitifully wilting away with great ardor for her best friend but rather a free human. Akin to a bird flying away from the shackles of the contents of your own flesh, recklessly so-called heart. So, you tilt your head with a smile when Han hands you a bouquet of red flowers that matches your dress when he picks you up, you let him guide you through the crowd with a hand on the end of your back and you let him dance with you, a beam on his face that’s almost as bright as the sun. Almost. And you tremendously cling to it. In pitiable ambition to forget about the existence of Hyunjin just for a mere a night, perhaps a mere moment that quickly turns into you pretending. Throwing yourself a silly play where you’re laughing with your whole chest and there are no residues of stubborn heartbreak that plastered itself onto you. A play where you’re the puppet and you are the puppet master, urging yourself to run away and hide from your own desires.

It's all feigned indifference when Han’s arms are around your waist and he’s pulling you closer, it’s not summer and it’s not genial. But perhaps summer was just not your season, you’re nothing close to a rose, nowhere near pretty petals and you will never be redolent. You’re something akin to stem thorns, grotesque and you’ll stab anything that touches you.

Your play ends too soon when Hyunjin is pushing through the crowds of people, fueled by rage and your confused stare when he’s standing in front of you. It all happens too quickly, your gasps mixed with everyone else around you when his fist collides with Han’s jaw. A gruesome play steals the show instead. It’s all a result of Hyunjin’s cowardness and your self-hatred. Han is only a victim that gets run over in the process.

This is it then, the point of no return.

"Y/N!" Hyunjin calls out to you, breathless and high on adrenaline when he follows you. As if he hadn’t just left a crime scene behind. As if Han wasn’t a bloody mess left behind, an aftermath of his foolish and pathetic attempt to take false claim over you. You, and that’s it. It’s all what he ever wanted.

"Leave me alone!" you shout back, walking faster and away from him. Needing to get away from him with your tears clinging to your waterline like pearls.

"Can you stop running away for once? That's all you fucking do. Face me for a change." he yells back angrily, frustration seeping into his words. And you stop abruptly in your track, turning to face him with venom filled expression and like a sick twisted bastard he’s happy you’re showing him emotions other than nonchalant.

“Maybe I’ll face you when you stop fucking acting like a child that throws a tantrum every time things don’t go his way.”

“What was I supposed to do? You iced me out, you won’t even look at me!”

“So, you go and hit my fucking date?” you yell in complete frustration, your voices echo in the empty street and you explode, overflowed with anger and longing has you marching back to him “Just who the fuck do you think you are Hyunjin? What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re what’s wrong with me Y/N! can’t you fucking see it? You’re everything that’s wrong with me.”

“Then fucking me let me be Hyunjin. If’ I’m so awful if I’m so wrong, why do you care?” your anger evaporates, blends into the waterfall spilling over your cheeks in an achingly familiar manner, burns and you’re nothing but a child pulled together with anger and resentment for the world.

“You’re my friend of course I care.”

“We can never be friends Hyunjin.” You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief as you turn to walk away but he stops you, a hand wrapped around your forearm.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” When you try to break free his hold on you tightens.

“What are you trying to say? What do you mean we can’t be friends?” He questions, voice cracking with his every word.

“I can never be your fucking friend. I can’t pretend anymore. this will never work.” The pain in your voice matches the one starting to swim in his eyes. A part of you scolds you, chastises you for being so cruel how could you inflict pain on him? You should fix it now.

Yet you stand still, remind yourself of the string that wraps around your ankle and when Hyunjin’s grip relents, growing gentle, you break free with a sniffle.

“So, this is it? You’re just gonna leave me behind?”

“You will never understand.” You bitterly chuckle.

“I will never understand what? Y/N Tell me.” He urges like your words had physically hurt him, settled in his heart, and tore it apart.

“You will never understand that I am fucking in love with you!” You feel as if the world around you stills, your own words hang over you, right under the star-speckled sky you had finally confessed to your biggest sin in a blood-soaked dress.

“I love you, okay? No matter what I do this love won’t leave me alone it consumes every fiber of my being, and I can’t do anything but stay still. I can’t be me anymore I can’t exist without you yet being next to you kills me. I don’t know how to do anything but let it take over me completely. it has spread through me like a disease I can’t get rid of it.” You breathe out with a heaving chest.

Choked by your own tears and the spikes of love that were stabbed in your throat finally dies, killed by your affirmations of affections and your salty tears. It’s bittersweet, the love on your tongue and the upcoming end. But then Hyunjin is in your range, dangerously close and he’s pulling you into him and into an unexpectedly dangerous kiss. It’s bittersweet but then it’s only sweet, in his honey dripping lips, peaches and fruity.

His kiss is dizzying, like a carousel going so round and round that you’re almost flying into the night.

“Say it again.” He whispers, the tenderness in his voice washing over you and when his thumb brushes over your cheeks, wiping away your tears it casts a flicker of hope into your fragile heart. ”Please tell me you love me again.” He speaks again and you can only cry, looking for answers in his eyes to the growing confusion in you.

“Tell me you feel the same way I do. Tell me you’ve loved me like I’ve loved you all along.” He pleads with unguarded vulnerability.

“You love me?” The words tumble from your lips in a rush, coated in disbelief and for the first time you let your hope grow, let it flop its wings in your chest and take space.

“I’ve done nothing these past two years but burn for you. I see your face in my reflection and hear your voice in my head. I find your love in the silence of my chaos. I don’t know how to be anything but in love with you Y/N.”

“But how? How is this possible?” Your tears are akin to a river, endless and forceful. When Hyunjin wipes them, they only multiply as if they’re aware of how something like this could not be your reality.

There’s a newfound emotion in Hyunjin’s eyes, in his smile when he rests his forehead against yours in earnest attempt to flower this hope alongside you “How could it not be possible when I’ve found you in every passing moment I breathed? How could it not to be possible when I know I’ll love you till the very last star in the sky burned into oblivion?”

You’ll always remember the night everything changed, the night you stopped falling in love and instead was taken away with it, the night you started walking into love with Hyunjin.

It’s all so fresh in your memory, the beginning of the end, the way it ended when it never really began. It’s all so fresh and it all felt real in your heart even when three months later Hyunjin has missed more dates than the ones you went on. When he left you alone in the hallways of your school. Leaving you once again to grow lonely in the tomb of your short love. It all falls apart before you get to blink.

The yearning for Hyunjin subsides and is replaced by the yearning for him to put you first. You could tell that despite your importance in his heart he grew accustomed to your presence way too quickly. He doesn’t get to miss you long enough because you’re always here, on the bleachers waiting for him, stood up in public waiting for him, and wide awake in your bed waiting for a text back.

You’re always in a state of waiting, like you’ve been in the cold for far too long, you wait for the warmth of the sun.

The lonesomeness melds into your being, becoming one with you and follows you like a shadow. Glued and unseparated. So, you settle, for less, for mere specks of sunlight and you close off. On all the unspoken words that dig your grave deeper and deeper, pulling you right into the darkness you believed you’d be able to run away from.

Fate has managed to prove to you how bloodthirsty it is yet again, sinking its fangs into you and sucking every bit of life that runs through your veins. It’s in the way your life starts to crumble once again.

In the middle of the week, your mother finds you in the living room. A glare plastered on her aged-up face. A cruelness dousing the edges of her scowl when she stands in front of you, hands crossed on her chest.

“Your father saw you with Hyunjin.” She declares as if you should be ashamed and you could only sigh in response, tired in the way your shoulders deflate.

“So?”

“I thought I told you to cut him off already. Your father is angry.”

“I don’t care what my father thinks.” You stand up, already checked out from this conversation and heading towards the stairs.

“You must care. We’re moving away by the end of the week.”

“What? And you’re just telling me this now?” You exclaim in frustration and your mother’s scowl only deepens, displeased with the raise in your voice.

“Just listen to your father Y/N.” she orders like you aren’t human and in that moment, you feel like you aren’t. you melt onto the ground beneath, and you leave everything behind, your skin, your bones, your very self.

Later that night you’re sitting on the edge of your empty bed, your phone tightly clutched in your hand it buzzes with an incoming call, and you wipe your tears with the back of your hand, picking it up seconds later.

“Hello?”

“Hey angel.” His voice is airy and comforting in a way that could only be glued to him. And you swallow down your sob. At your silence he sighs.

“Are you upset with me? I know I promised I’d walk you home today, but practice took longer than I expected.”

“it’s okay.” You whisper a lie, it’s never okay and you have accepted that it never will be. You did the math and now you know there’s no way for you two to last. It was a new revolution, a terrifying one knowing that love isn’t always enough.

“Look out the window baby.”

When you pull your curtains, his figure looking up at you has every negative emotion in you dissolving into nothing but a feeling of abandonment. You realize at the end of this night you’ll be the one to walk away yet you still feel like you have been betrayed. It seeps into your bones and makes them shake, spreading through your spine in painful terror when he brings a singular pink rose before him.

“You love pink roses, so I got you this. Forgive me?” He grins up at you, eyes morphing into their usual moon crescents and your chest tightens in an inhumanly possible agony.

“I’ll always forgive you Hyunjin.” You could only hope the darkness of the nights aids in hiding the tears brimming in your waterline.

An hour later and you manage to find yourself settled upon the familiar sand of the beach. A heavy feeling takes claim on your soul, taking over every cranny and nook of your being and you let it. Because what are you if not defeated, what are you if not a quitter. You grew tired of constantly fighting, resisting with your fists balled up. So, you let go, in honor of all the secrets you’ll take with you, all the white lies that will remain white. Hidden away from Hyunjin because you refuse to take away his shine, you refuse to be the reason he loses trust in the beauty of the world.

So, you’ll play the villain, you’ll welcome his resentment for you with open arms and a crying face.

Tonight, the ocean is a witness to your ending just as it was a witness to your beginning.

“I’m gonna miss you.” You whisper to Hyunjin who sits next you, unknowing of what’s about to come and he leans into your palm that had cuddled his cheek. Nuzzles into it with and places a soothing kiss right into the lines of your palm, draws a map with his lips that will always lead you back to him.

“I promise not to make you miss me anymore.”

A year

Two

And three later you know there will be moments where your hearts will reach out for each other. And so, you lean forward, taking his lips for yours in a gentle kiss, tender, delicate and you tattoo farewell onto his lips.

“You don’t have to promise me anything anymore Hyunjin.” You hadn’t realized you started crying until his eyes flitted across your features in worry and confusion.

“What’s wrong angel?” raw concern laces his tone, and you deem yourself unworthy so you stand up and he follows blindly, a choked sob wrecking its way through your body as his arms embraces you, his heart aches in attempts to hold yours, to ease it and you don’t have the courage to tell him it’s not enough.

“I’m sorry about everything I promise to make it up to you baby.” He tries and tries and tries and it’s almost too late, so you break free of his hug and you attempt to smile at him, unsettling with your tear streaked face and it has his heart dropping right between you two.

“I don’t think we have time for that anymore jinnie.”

“What does that mean?” his eyes search yours in panic, as if they’re sensing your plan.

“I love you.” You ignore his question, standing on your tiptoes to place a short chaste kiss on his lips “I’ll love you for as long as I live.” You whisper against them, a rare truth of yours that will surely linger in the silence he always runs away from. You realize it then, both of you are constantly running so how is it possible for you to ever meet?

“Why are you talking as if you’re saying goodbye Y/N?” his eyebrows furrow and he’s never looked so desperate for an answer.

“Because I am.” Your sweaty palms squeeze his and you can’t understand why you can’t stop forcing your lips into forming a smile. Part of your brain tells you, you want Hyunjin’s last memories of you to be you smiling but it’s so foolish, specially so when you can’t stop crying, when your tears are leaving a trail of hideous evidence on your cheeks.

“You’re leaving me?” The pieces of the puzzle are suddenly falling into place and the pain flashing in his eyes is a reminder of the blood on your hands. The blood on your feet when you step on his heart.

“I’m sorry Hyunjin.” Your words are nothing but a broken record that you repeat to him, to yourself, to your memories and to the beach and then you do the only thing you’re good at, you run, choking on your tears as you walk past him and Hyunjin does the only good thing he’s good at, he chases you.

“what do you mean you’re sorry Y/N? if this is about how I treated you these past months then I’m sorry I promise to try harder I promise to spend more time-“

“It doesn’t matter!” you interrupt him with a yell, a cry for help to not make this harder for you “none of this matters Hyunjin. Let’s just end this before it’s too late.” The words taste foreign on your tongue, you never imagined yourself to mutter them not when you were a carbon copy of your mother, a woman that will always put love first, because what are you if not a cracked stone desperate for love.

“Please Y/N.” and what is Hyunjin if not a mere being desperate for crumbs of you, it’s in the way his eyes shine with tears he hadn’t shed since his father died. Sparkling so beautifully it’s unfair when he’s on his knees for you.

“Please stay. Please don’t leave me. I can’t breathe when you’re not near.”

“Please just let me let you go.” Hyunjin cries at your words and you wonder when did your relationship turn into you two constantly pleading for different things the other cannot afford. Cannot fulfill.

You feel it then, more than ever, more than you were alone in love. You feel centimeters between your bodies stretch farther and farther. Building itself into mountains you cannot climb and oceans upon oceans you cannot cross. You’re suddenly paralyzed. A weak human who never learned how to swim, you never learned to love correctly and how to unlock your heart without a shadow of your lies lingering right around the corner and ready to take over.

So, you leave Hyunjin like a torn-up piece of paper behind you, a poem of broken promises and loving touches that only turn to venom and keeps him awake at night.

You realize you spent half your time wishing for him and he was yours you spent it fighting for his attention, wishing for him to put you as priority and when you lost him you kept wishing to be remembered. You were always wishing, never satisfied. So even when the sun shines the next day, you’re still aching all over.

Three days later Hyunjin strolls to your house, his sketchbook in his hands and apology on his tongue dissolves when he finds it empty. The cruelty of your actions dawns on him, and it breaks his heart into a million tiny pieces, impossible to put back together. Your face in his pages remains unseen to you and instead stays in between his belongings. His muse is gone, and you turn to be a distant a memory. He breaks over you then he hates you, and it blends into him missing you only for him to hate you again.

He realizes he never really knew you, a part of you had always managed to stay hidden. Just like the moon. There was no moment in time when he had all of you and so he resents you.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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loveharlow · 5 months

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SEVEN [THE INBETWEEN] - KISS IT BETTER

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[2.5k] Three weeks of no John B or Sarah and you're officially overwhelmed with grief and mixed signals, leading to an emotional outburst directed at certain blonde.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, mutual pining, grief avoidance, little fluff, mentions of low self-esteem/negative self-image, mentions of past non-con

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ I think this chapter is actually so soft and beautiful🥺 and I never really say this but I do think listening to the song on repeat as you read makes it one hundred times better.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

THIS DAY MARKED THREE WEEKS SINCE YOU’D LOST JOHN B AND SARAH…And one week since JJ kissed you out of nowhere. Co-existing in your other presumed dead best friend’s house has been…odd, to say the least. You didn’t really know how to talk to JJ now, which was something you never thought would be an issue.

He’d been in the surf shack working on your car more than usual, without your company unfortunately. You’d been taking more small jobs just to get out of the house at this point. But barely talking to your best friend for an entire week while living in the same space was starting to take a toll on you.

And so was the kiss.

Did he mean to do it? Was it a spur of the moment thing? Did JJ have feelings for you? Ten thousand thoughts running around in your mind at once, driving you closer and closer to the edge of crazy. Your heart was telling you that the kiss was no accident — that it seemed too passionate and eager to be something he’d done in the heat of the moment. But your head was telling you that the kiss was an act of grief — something he’d done in a moment where his head wasn’t exactly screwed on straight.

That it was an honest mistake.

You didn’t know which part of you that you believed.

Or which part of you that you wanted to believe.

It was nightfall when you walked up the steps of The Chateau, bag slung lazily over your shoulder as you huffed out a puff of air, exhausted from your nearly ten hour long babysitting gig. Some couple needed someone to watch over their three kids while they went on a date. You should’ve known something was off when the mother was offering fifty dollars an hour, way over minimum wage — her three kids were more like a pint-sized trio of bats from hell. But you walked away with five-hundred more dollars in your pocket, so who were you to complain?

But even with fatigue and hunger weighing heavy on your bones, your heart still dropped at the thought of seeing JJ at the end of the day.

Sighing, you quietly opened the door of the home, throwing your bag on the sofa and letting the door close behind you as Marley immediately came charging, light paws feeling like punches on your thighs but you smiled nonetheless.

“Hi, pretty girl. How are you?” You cooed, scratching behind both of her ears as she wiggled against you.

Another set of footsteps rounded the corner, a freshly awoken JJ coming into your view. You coughed awkwardly under your breath, straightening out as the two of you locked eyes. “Oh, hey. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m just glad you made it in before it got too late, one of the corner stores got robbed a couple hours ago.” He said, voice raspy and low from sleep as he rubbed the exhaustion out of his eyes.

The two of you stood there awkwardly— JJ scratching the back of his head as you averted your eyes anywhere else, Marley’s panting filling the silence.

You took a deep breath, shoving your hands in the back of your pockets as JJ mindlessly nibbled on his lower lip. You took the opportunity to break the silence, the blonde seemingly having the same idea.

“Well, I’m gonna get ready for bed-”

“Look, I’m sorry-”

You both stopped talking, attempting to allow the other to speak. Small smiles broke out on your faces, the two of you looking down at your feet simultaneously. “This is awkward, if I’ve ever seen it…” JJ huffed out humorously. “Can we just…like, sit down and talk, for a minute?” He asked, his own words making him cringe slightly as he motioned towards the battered sofa.

You nodded, not saying a word as you plopped down on the piece of furniture, eyes on the floor as your hands held each other in your lap. JJ sat down oddly slow next to you. You expected him to try and create as much distance between the two of you as possible but surprisingly, he sat so close that your shoulders were brushing in the tiniest of ways.

The unexpectedness of it all had your brows furrowing, finding some kind of courage to look the boy in his eyes as he finally settled on the right words to say.

“...I shouldn’t have kissed you.” For some reason, the string of words made your heart tremble and your lips parted in surprise. They hurt more than you ever expected them to. Noticing your solemn expression, JJ was quick to clean up his statement, turning in his seat to look at you completely. “Not in the sense that I didn’t want to, no, God no.” He sputtered, hands moving around wildly. “It’s just that, with everything going on, I don't think that moment was the best moment to act on my feelings-”

He was cut off when you lurched forward, colliding your lips with his in the heat of the moment. In your haste and his surprise, the blonde accidentally bit your lip but you didn’t mind, never breaking the exchange. After a moment, you both seemed to settle into it — one of his hands sliding around your hip and waist to find a home on the end of your back, pulling you closer in the smallest motion. Your own hands cradled his jaw on each side, pulling him deeper into you.

You kissed that boy until you couldn’t anymore. Until your lips were swollen and wet, your head spinning as you pulled back and let your hands fall, sliding down the length of his neck and shoulders while his own hand slid back to rest on your thigh.

“...What was that for?” He asked in a whisper. He sounded breathless.

You simply gulped, tucking a small strand of hair behind your ear before speaking. “...When you kissed me, I felt something. Something I didn’t think I should feel while kissing my best friend. Because I never thought I’d be kissing my best friend at all.” You explained, elevating your gaze to meet his eyes. “And I thought to myself that I should feel repulsed. That the kiss should feel wrong. Right? But nothing about that kiss felt wrong.” You told him. “I haven’t been avoiding you because of the kiss, JJ. I’ve been avoiding you because I haven’t been able to get the thought of kissing you again out of my head since it happened.”

“And now that you have?” He asked, eyes searching yours. “Now, that you have kissed me again?”

“...I’m struggling not to do it a third time.” You breathed out, eyes fleeting towards his lips for the slightest of moments. “I don’t know what this is. In my head, you’re my absolute best friend and I love you in that aspect but everytime I see you now, I can’t help but think about you in ways that I shouldn’t. So, if that kiss or this one didn’t mean anything to you, you’d better tell me now because-”

“Oh, it meant something.” He cut you off enthusiastically, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I know you probably have no idea but that kiss meant everything to me.” He told you, edging closer on the sofa. “I’ve had this huge crush on you for, like, ever. Probably since I even knew what a crush was. But you know how I am…” He lowered his voice, avoiding your eyes. “I didn’t trust myself with you. Anytime I look at you, I see this ball of light around you and I never want it to go away. Or be the reason for it going away. With me and all my shit…”

“I don’t think of you like that.” You said honestly, a small frown on your face. “You aren’t some southside screw up or a charity case. JJ, you know that I don’t care about all that. I’m always there to walk through it with you, your life doesn’t define you, you know that. Or at least, you should.” You told the blonde, running a soft hand through his hair. “And I know that it may take some time for you to believe that for yourself but I’ll be the one to tell you it everyday until you actually hear it, as a friend or…whatever else.”

You reminded the boy, biting your lower lip in thought. “...That’s why you never said anything? Because you thought you weren’t good for me?”

He seemed to ponder on the statement before nodding, somewhat shamefully. “I mean, c'mon, look at you.” He scoffed, wide blue eyes looking at your face with so much adoration and purity that you never cared to notice before. “Someone like you doesn’t need to waste her life away trying to love someone like me.”

“I do love you-”

“Not in the way that I love you.” He blurted, pinching his eyes shut as he cut you off.

“...I could. But you’ll never know if you don’t let me try.” You told him. “I won’t sit here and tell you that I love you in that way because I really don’t know. But whatever I’m starting to feel for you is beyond a friendship and once I figure that out, who knows? But I also don’t want you to wait on me to figure things out if that’s not what you want.” You concluded, retreating your hands back to the comfort of your lap.

You don’t know how helpless you looked, but you made no attempt to hide the frown that you could feel on your face. You knew JJ was known as promiscuous but his ways seemed to have settled with everything that’s happened. Although the thought of him with anyone made your gut turn, you didn’t want to confine him within the cage of your emotional contemplation. You didn’t want to lead him on now knowing how he felt about you.

“Hey,” He started, a hand on your arm. “I will wait. And that’s my choice. If you decide that you want me, that you want this, then I will be here. I know my past actions are probably making my words seem like a load of shit right now, but weeks ago? When I was hooking up with half the island? I was under the impression that you and I would never happen. But now there’s a chance.” He spoke, laughing at the end of his sentence, the oddness of the action making your face twist. “Sorry, I just, I thought about somethin'.” He said, waving himself off. “I was talking to Bree one day, about you. I told him that the odds of you ever liking me back were one in a million. And he told me that a one in a million chance is still a chance, to which I told him that he was full of shit. But now…” He trailed off, shrugging.

“...John B knew?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. JJ rolled his eyes playfully.

“I think everyone knew, except you, of course.” He cocked an eyebrow, you being the one to roll your eyes this time.

“...So what do we do now?” You asked, voice small.

JJ sighed, suddenly sitting up straighter in his seat and taking both of your hands in his own. “...As much as I want to make you my girlfriend, right here and right now, I don’t think it’s a good idea. I think that we both need time to grieve and sort ourselves and I also think that you need time to explore your feelings more and make sure that this isn’t a fluke.” That was the most mature sentence you'd ever heard leave JJ's lips.

“A fluke?” You asked, mildly offended. “What does that mean?”

“Just that, I’ve seen how you can deal with grief. And not to twist the knife…are you okay with me talking about the…Rafe thing?” You clenched your jaw at the mere mention of his name, nodding stiffly in JJ’s direction, the boy drawing his lips into a thin line before continuing. “When that happened, you were still grieving. You kissed him because you were in a bad place and he was there and he ended up...taking advantage of that vulnerable part of you, right?” You hummed in agreement. “I am not at all blaming you for what happened when I say this. You didn’t deserve it and that asshole should be six feet under for what he did and, God so help me, I will put him there myself-”

“JJ.” You interrupted the boy’s rant, wanting him to finish his point completely. Huffing out a puff of air, he continued.

“I’m sorry. I just, I really hate that that happened to you. And I know it happened to you, not me but I want to kill him. Every day that I wake up, I just hope he's dead somewhere.”

“I know. Trust me, I know.” You reassured.

“But all I’m trying to say is that, I don’t want to repeat that same cycle — taking advantage of your emotional state. I want you to be yourself again and be in the right space before trying to take this any further. And I want you to have no doubts and be completely sure.” You understood his point of view and his reasoning behind it. Nodding, you allowed him to finish his sentence. “So, for now? We can just figure things out, set some kinda boundaries, if you want.”

You thought about it for a moment, fingers drawing shapes on one of his hands. “...Just honesty. If you kiss someone, hook up with someone…” The words made your eyes twitch. “Just don’t let me find out from someone else.”

“Oh, I can promise you that I have no one else on my mind, especially now that I know I’m on yours, so there will be nothing to tell ‘n nothin’ to find out, m’lady.” He smiled, saluting towards you. “I’m all yours, even if you aren’t mine. Yet.” He winked.

It’d been weeks since you’d seen the goofy side of JJ. It was comforting.

You giggled, bowing your head slightly. “I promise that I am solely focused on clarifying my feelings towards you and only you, blondie.” You returned the sentiment and the salute. “What about our friendship, though? Is it still a friendship?”

“Mmm….” He thought aloud, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Actually, you’re the smart one. What’s like a fancy, silly term for developing a relationship? Like getting to know each other but not dating, like the in between stage?”

“...We can say we’re in a courtship?” You suggest half-jokingly, shrugging. “But… does this also mean we have to stop kissing each other? 'Cause I kind of like that part.”

JJ faked offense, throwing a palm against his chest and gasping. “Kissing?” He asked, wide eyed and shocked. “We are pogues. And number one rule of pogues, is no pogue-on-pogue macking…Eugh.” He reprimanded playfully, fake gagging. You slapped his shoulder in response, a smile on your face as one grew on his.

“No pogue-on-pogue macking, huh?” You said, playfully swatting his arms as he did yours. “

“That’s exactly right, little miss lips-a-lot - Ow! Did you just pinch my nipple?” He laugh-shouted, holding his chest as your swatting ceased. “What are you? Six?-”

You took the opportunity with JJ's guard down to grab the nape of his neck and pull his face into yours, giving him one last hard, passionate kiss of the night, slightly biting his lip as you drew your face away from his.

“How’s that for no pogue-on-pogue macking?”

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.SVN Taglist; @esquivelbianca @fallingwallsh @calmoistorm @i-love-ptv @liability28 @rivaiken @sophiahristov @rafxcameronss @ldrvinyl @purplerose291 @boo22sstuff @heartsforandrewgarfield @coolgirl458 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @jujubeaz @ellobruv-blog @yourmumstoy @belle101200 @libertyybellls @c4ttheart @ihe4rttwd @redhead1180 @ditzyzombiesblog @spideysimpossiblegirl @sex-me-stiles @honeyiti @rafedrewandjjs @highformaybank @broidfk609

©loveharlow.

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xstevex-world · 2 years

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Steve Harrington’s favourite musician has been the same since he was 17.

He distinctly remembers hearing Chrissy Cunningham play in his car radio during his senior year, subsequently listening to nothing but her breakout EP for a week straight - and that was just the beginning.

He followed all of work for over the past 7 years: bought physical and digital copies of all her albums, watched every music video multiple times, read every interview, saved up enough while working weekend shifts at scoops to get tickets to her sold out shows in Indiana - he had so much merch that Jonathan Byers once joked that Steve could probably make a shrine to his idol.

He had even kept up during her hitatus, almost two full years of radio silence from the star, like she had disappeared off the face of the earth. It wasn’t the worst thing that had ever happened, but it didn’t help that it overlapped with him dropping out of business school to pursue a career in cosmetology and that final falling out he had with his father over his choice in education.

The day she came back felt like Christmas.

Her comeback announcement dropped on June 13th - and it wasn’t just a new post on social media or a candid shot online someone managed to snap.

It was a whole EP drop, 4 entire songs (and a music video) that he knew he was going to play on repeat after 716 days of radio silence.

That opened the floodgates for everything to start again: she went back on social media, thanked her fans for their wholehearted response to her new releases. She started doing interviews again: discussing her mental health and the impact of her mothers control in her life; her reunion with her best friend (and apparent ex) from high school; her label dropping her after it was found that her “momager” had embezzled a huge amount of money from said company, releasing her from her contract early and allowing her to find new partners, new producers, new projects.

She talks about how she’s never been happier, and Steve can’t help but beam at it. He can hear it in her music, how it’s going more against the grain of what’s popular, opting instead for etherial synths mixed with heavy guitars. She sings about heartbreak and moving on and being better than then the people who brought her down for long, now that she’s starting fresh.

Steve loves it, thinks some of the changes have something to with Eddie Munson’s name appearing in the credits of all her new material.

Truthfully, he got curious after someone on Twitter posted a screengrab of cameos made by Munson and his own bandmates in all of her new music videos. He thankful someone else made the connection, and although he’s not the biggest fan of Corroded Coffin’s music (apart from the collaboration EP they did with Chrissy: “CCxCC presents Satanic Slumber Party”, that was incredible), he would lying if he didn’t say he was totally enamoured by Eddie goddamn Munson.

Let alone the fact that he’s totally Steve’s type (big hair, bigger eyes, a complete dork with a heart of gold but who also looks like he would bite someone in both a feral dog and a “please take me to your bedroom right now” kind of way), the guy is a genius when it comes to music, spending interviews talking about the process of artistry and the importance of storytelling - even when they’re discussing songs about him, written by Chrissy about their break up, he’s still so passionate and witty, the two of them spending interviews bouncing off each other in a way that would rival his relationship Robin.

He’s fine, really, he knows logically this is just a celebrity crush that will pass if he stops thinking about it for long enough, but he’s certain that this could develop into one of those all encompassing obsessions if he doesn’t curb it now- and that’s exact what he does. He tries to put that energy into school, excelling more than he ever did in an academic setting. He meets up more often with Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle and Barb, inviting them over more often for dinner or drinks, sometimes even just because he wants to make a breakfast feast and need someone else to eat it.

It’s at times like this that he misses Robin, who only has about 6 weeks left of her internship in Paris - he hasn’t seen her in person since he went to visit her a few months ago during spring break. He wishes she was her to openly judge him over this, before rambling on about her own current hyperfixation or moaning about her lack of romantic adventures since she and Vickie broke up.

They still talk on the phone every afternoon (nighttime for her), ranting to each other about their perspective day and sharing any worthwhile gossip.

Tonight’s no different, he’s telling her about the current drama happening in his classes when Robin says:

“I met someone today.”

He’s ecstatic - in his opinion robin deserves the world and the fact she’s met someone on her own in a city where she has been finding it hard interacting with people outside of her placement is a miracle in itself.

She tells him more: how she met this girl that morning at café, acting as a knight in shining armour (Robin’s words, not Steve’s) when the girl got flustered trying to order her coffee in broken French; how she spent the day showing this girl around to her favourite shops and parks and museums; how they spent hours talking about everything and nothing; how Robin hasn’t felt this way about someone since Vickie.

“So then we had dinner at that Italian place, the one I took you to, and, Steve, oh my goddess, she has the cutest little laugh-“

“Did you get her name?”

“Oh, sorry” he can hear her move the phone from one ear to the other. “Yeah it’s Chrissy.”

Steve stops his pacing. That would be one hell of a coincidence, if it was Chrissy Cunningham. She is playing in Paris the following night, the penultimate stop of her current tour. (The very show that he had been tempted to go to, since he could stay with Robin. It absolutely wasn’t because Corroded Coffin was joining her for the European leg of the tour - acting as her band, as well as performing songs from their collaboration as the encore - something that did not happen at any of the American shows). It couldn’t be the same Chrissy that Robin had fallen head over heels for in the space of a few hours, right?

“Did you get any of her socials?” He asks, cautiously.

“Nope,” she answers, popping the p for emphasis. “I didn’t think to ask, because I’m an idiot and all that-“

“Robs,” he interrupts, trying to keep his voice steady. “You’re not an idiot.”

Her hears her laugh on the other end of the line, the same kind of self-deprecating giggle she uses when she’s nervous. He wishes he was there with her so she could see him roll his eyes at her, their main way of communicating their love.

“What did she look like?”

“Oh!” She exclaims as he hears her tumbling over something (knowing Robin, probably herself). “We took a picture together, hold on, I’ll send it over.”

His phone vibrates against his ear, so he brings it in front of him, putting Robin on speaker so he can see the photo.

And.

Holy fuck.

“Robin,” he says slowly, because he actually can’t believe it himself. “Do you know who that is?”

((Part 2))

#stranger things #stranger things au #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #Steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #Buckingham #bandcheer #robin x chrissy #robin buckley x chrissy cunningham #Luci’s ST thoughts

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itsvelyria · 7 months

Text

"f1 drivers as happy taylor swift songs"

happy testing week everybody!!

Charles Leclerc

yeah, you know i did one thing right🩷

he watches as you mutter conspiratorially with his mother, whispers in each other's ears and shooting glares to whoever dares eavesdrop. sitting on his childhood sofa, he reflects on the past and his life, pondering in the moment of silence. and there is this voice in his head that talks to him, reminding him of every regret, every single person he's loved and lost. he tries to shut the voice out, knowing full well the negativity never does any good. but as arthur had put it at dinner earlier, it seems as though he's been more relaxed of late. he brushes it off, but as his eyes train on the one he loved getting along swimmingly with the woman who loved him first, he thinks to chalk it up to the tiny nagging voice in his head that had appeared a few days ago out of the blue. the voice was a stark contrast to its predecessor, this one a ball of golden light, saying that maybe he's fucked up a lot, but at least he's got you.

Carlos Sainz

i know heaven's a thing, I go there when you touch me, honey💕

there is this undeniable tingle in his spine when your soft skin presses against his. even in the blistering Spanish heat, he welcomes any skin contact from you. he glances down at where the floppy sunhat blocks most of your face from the sun, and your eyes from his. wondering how much trouble you would give him if he flings the dreadful hat into the ocean, he misses the request you direct up at him. repeating the question, he nods, taking the suncream from your outstretched hands. he takes his time with the lotion, savouring every second his hands are on your back. you thank him with a quick press of your lips to his cheek and he rests a hand on your thigh, bending down to steal another from your lips. his love language was definitely physical touch, especially if it was yours.

Danny Ricciardo

i dared you to kiss me and ran when you tried💚

the sunshine is warm on your skin but the shoulder that brushes against yours is warmer. danny’s contagious laughter is carried by the gentle breeze that passes through the park. at age 9, danny had charmed your mom enough to let him bring her 7-year-old out on an adventure. your peripheral vision shows a teenage couple giggling over clasped hands, and when you’re young, you don’t think of the consequences, so the words slip out. “i bet you won't kiss me right here, right now”. and danny leans in, always ready for any challenge. and just as your lips are about to meet, you burst into laughter, darting away. you can still remember delightfully screaming through the public park as danny gives chase. it’s the same park he proposed in, after all.

George Russell

you wish it was me, don't you?💜

immersed in the classy ambiance of an art exhibition, george navigates the gallery adorned with bright splashes of paint marked contemporary. despite being engaged in interesting chatter, an inexplicable force compels you to lift your gaze, and it locks onto the familiar curls across the room. amid the elegant hum of hushed whispers, the air shifts, his lingering eyes meeting yours, giving rise to a thump in your chest. as his blue orbs drink in your form. once. twice. the rising tension manifests in the prickle of your bare shoulders and the unspoken question echoes amidst the artistic expressions. you yearn to step closer, to be the one on his arm. but long strands of brown silk and emerald green are in your place. and though his eyes long to meet yours again, there is nothing but empty space in your stead.

Lando Norris

so baby, can we dance through an avalanche?🖤

you drop the heavy box on the floor, the fatigue in your bones too wearisome to hold you up any longer. coupled with the emptiness of your apartment and the lack of a certain laughter in the stagnant air, you crumple onto the unmade bed. lying there for what seems like eternity, the thoughts of your future and whatnot plaguing your mind. the weight of unemployment burns heavily, so much so that you miss the sound of the door letting someone through. another body sags beside you, the familiar cologne staining your nostrils. your head turns, finding purchase in the shoulder beside. the stupid orange shirt reminds you of your limited time with him and something clicks. the home system is called upon as a DJ, playing soundtracks of celebration as you pull your boyfriend around the room in a made-up waltz, laughing at his put-out expression and then over the absolute misery that is life. despite the chaos, your heart still finds comfort in its other half’s presence.

Lewis Hamilton

romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours💙

as you clean the apartment you share with lewis, your gaze falls onto the cream card hidden just between your books. Persuasion and Porchia, you note. the seal on it a light purple, the shape of a heart in the hardened wax, and you can picture your boyfriend sliding it onto your bookshelf before he had left for another race this morning, a smirk on his face as he imagines you finding it, and you already know what it is. tracing the edges of the envelope lightly, you break the seal and slide the pages out, unfolding it to reveal the handwriting you had come to reverent. in swooping sloping cursive letters, he proclaims his love again, like he does in every single one of these. and as cheesy as it is, you treasure every single one of them, tucking them away in a little box at the corner of your wardrobe. someday when you have kids, maybe you'll take it out to show them just how deeply their father loves.

Max Verstappen

i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you🩶

he knew this. he knew full well his career would take him across the world for three quarters out of the year and yet, the one thing he failed to realize was that nothing would feel like home. and then he found you, the absolute enigma that chose to do the same thing he did, realising early on that your home wasn’t in a place. and the streets of Kyoto were just lifeless alleyways till you pointed out the cosy glow of the warm streetlights with your brown streaked hair that shined gold under them and the dark nightscape with the way you shined in his eyes. you did the same for the beaches in Miami and balconies of Spain, easing the loneliness in his memories. slowly but surely, the words you had spoken to him were coming true and his home was taking the shape of you.

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dgybbvrcsacgswtcbkyv · 26 days

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Kinchana?

Hanni Pham x fem!reader

Warnings: reader suffers from anxiety/anxiety attacks & low self-esteem

a/n: erm.. thought I’d give writing a try. Any feedback is appreciated. This also might be pt1 depending on if anyone even reads this lol. (Title might make sense later?)

Also, I have used some Korean words I hope they're correct.

______________________________________________________________

You’re awake before your alarm goes off. The same blue haze which sets over you every time you wake greets you. Along with a weight settling on your chest. You’re used to this feeling. But it’s still uncomfortable so you place a hand over your chest and apply pressure, as expected, it doesn’t help. This has merely become a force of habit now. You ignore it as usual and get ready for work.

Clad in your oversized blue jeans and oversized tee, you walk towards the grocery shop where you work. Plugging in your wired earphones to the tiny mp3, you play the song you’ve had on repeat for the past week. Ever since you came to Korea you’ve always preferred not to use your phone much, finding that it only increases your anxiety. So you’ve taken it upon yourself to find little alternatives that don’t require the internet.

The shop bell jingles as you enter with a greeting, “Morning Ahjumma”.

“Ahh you’re here?” she gives you the usual response. You’ve been working for Ms. Kim for a little over 3 months and you were still learning Korean. Thankfully, she knew basic English and was always helping you out. You begin your usual day of work, going through your tasks. Taking stock of inventory, arranging deliveries and creating some displays.

It’s about midday when you hear the sound of reversing coming from the truck that brings stocks. You come out from the back of the store. “Ahjumma, I’ve told you to call me when the boxes arrive. Please don’t lift them by yourself.” You scold Ms. Kim as you run over to take the box from her hands. She’s not that old, being in her 50s, but you knew she’s been developing back problems and you didn’t want it to get worse for her.

“Stop treating me like a halmeoni. Do I look like a halmeoni to you?” she sniped at you. “Yes. Absolutely.” You replied with a poker face. She grabbed the nearest object, which happened to be a fly swatter and started to beat you with it. Not for real, of course-you could barely feel the swatter touch you. Yet you faked groans of pain and pretended to scream for help. Both of you were chuckling at your own antics when the doorbell jingled indicating the arrival of a customer so both of you ceased your little k-drama in order to appear sane.

You heard multiple feet enter as your back was turned to them. “Annyeonghaseyo” Ms Kim greeted them with a bow. Without so much as a glance at the customers, you retreated to the back of the store with the box you were carrying. Being an introvert as well as not being fluent in Korean, you didn’t fancy dealing much with customers. Ms. Kim was usually the one handling the cashier unless it was the graveyard shift. Which you usually took over since it meant less customers.

Ready to make the several trips to unload all the boxes, you go to the front of the shop again. The delivery guys had piled the boxes outside the door. You bent down to pick one up—God, how could soft drink bottles be so heavy? and started to make your way to the door. Now, the door is automatic so you weren’t worried about having to open it. However, what you didn’t expect was the girl who was walking right into you. She was looking back and chatting excitedly to her friend, and you, being your introverted, dumbass, awkward self, was trying to back out of her way instead of verbally warning her. You weren’t quick enough and she bumps into you.

A gasp leaves her mouth as she turns around and the box almost escapes your grip. You catch it and tighten your grip before it falls. Thank God, cause otherwise it would’ve definitely landed on yours AND her toes. “Oh! I’m so sorry” she quickly replies. Awkward as ever, with box still in your hands, a hurried apology comes from you as well and you bow to her. You look up and have a proper look at her for the first time and your mouth hangs open.

She was gorgeous. Like.. she looked like a 'first love''. That’s the only way you could describe her. Your brain short circuits and words elude you. You force yourself back to Earth and quickly give her another bow and shuffle away from the door so she and her friends can exit. You notice the friend right beside her, wearing a thick pair of glasses and almost a head taller than her, stifling a laugh as she drags the beautiful girl away.

What you failed to notice was, she also malfunctioned upon coming into such close contact with you. Hence why she had to be dragged away.

#hanni x reader #hanni x fem reader #newjeans #nwjns #hanni pham #newjeans hanni #newjeans x reader

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builtbybrokenbells · 8 months

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CAPITAL VICES | JACOB T. KISZKA

Jacob Thomas Kiszka: the eighth, undiscovered, most deadly sin of all.

Masterlist

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 19k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, fingering (f!receiving), oral (f!receiving) mentions of oral (m!receiving), sir kink, dom/sub, praise, dirty talk, biting, nipple play, degradation, very brief mention/phrase of free use kink, overstimulation, spanking, name calling, ANGST, mentions of breakups/heartbreak, depression, anxiety, sadness, graphic description of grief/grieving, loss of a parent, mentions of cheating/toxic relationships, past trauma with relationships, mentions of abusive relationships/physical violence, mentions of dying/death, mentions of addiction/withdrawal/drugs, fluff, drinking, swearing, sorry if i miss any!!!

you guys didn’t really think I’d end it there, did you? ;) i did tell a little while lie and say wrath was the last chapter, but I didn’t technically say ‘the end’ 🤍 I apologize for leaving you hanging, and I hope this makes up for it! as always, be kind, enjoy, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes!! (Very lightly edited)

Forget, move on, move forward.

That was the mantra you had been repeating to yourself for days. The sound was nearly sickening now, and the only reason you had not abandoned it was because it was stuck in your head. It was not helping, and it definitely was not working, but you were so deep in despair that you hoped it would eventually make the difference. You were desperate for any type of relief, for none of your usual coping mechanisms were working. The more the time passed, the more you were beginning to think that you would never recover from the loss of Jake Kiszka. You could not look at your piano, and you could not get out of bed for long enough to even think about readying yourself for the bar. All of your most comforting television shows had turned bleak, and the thought of playing music made you sick.

Well, all but one particular band, at least.

One sleepless night, you grew annoyed with your own relentless tossing and turning. After moving to the couch and turning your television on, you realized that not even the sound of Shameless, or more specifically, Frank Gallagher’s drunken babbling could pry a laugh from you. You switched to Brooklyn Nine-Nine, wondering if maybe a goofy comedy would settle the unbearable misery, but it only seemed to worsen your sadness. With one last shred of hope, you pulled out your phone that was lacking any messages like usual, and you opened your Spotify account.

You took a deep breath as you typed the three words into the search bar, and you felt like you were punched in the stomach when the picture of Jake and his three brothers graced your screen.

Of course, you would notice Jake first. He always came first.

You listened to Jake’s music for the first time that night, and instead of sharing the memory with him, you had to digest the intimacy you had previously denied yourself whilst trying to forget him. You promised that it would only be one time, and that if you only listened to one song, it would curb the need you held for him in your heart.

But, as you learned before in the hardest way imaginable, promising and following through are two completely different things, and it did not stop at a single song. By the time the sun rose in the sky, you were a mess of tears as you finished up the last few songs on their discography. Instead of turning your phone off and moving on, you put it on loop and leaned your head against the arm of the couch. One particular song caught your attention as it began playing, and it drew you in even further as the melodic guitar solo began. By minute three, your eyes were heavy, and not long after that, you were sound asleep.

When you woke in the morning from the best sleep you had in weeks, you were still hearing the soft sounds of Jake’s guitar. You swore you would turn it off and move on, but as you stretched and stood from your position on the couch, you let the melodies carry you through morning coffee and a long, overdue shower. Since then, it always seemed to be playing in the background while you tried to survive life without him.

A few days after the final breakup, Scott had sent you a message inviting you out for lunch. He was curious about how the night went after the blowout at the restaurant, and you couldn’t blame him. He sacrificed his own pride to help you find happiness, and the more you thought about it, the more appealing friendship with him seemed. You needed something to break up the monotony of sadness, and you knew that calling your sister was the last thing you wanted to do. You loved her, and she had always been your best friend, but you could not recount the mistakes you had made to lead you here. It would kill you to relive all of the sweetness and eventually, all of the heartbreak.

So you agreed, but it was all but happily. You made plans for a Saturday afternoon, exactly one week after you had called it quits with Jake. You thought that maybe by the time it rolled around, you would be more excited at the prospect of leaving the house considering you’d spent seven whole days inside, wallowing in your own misery. When you woke up that morning, it felt like lead was weighing down your limbs and you cursed yourself for ever making the plans in the first place. You forced yourself through a shower, but had to sit down on the side of the tub for ten minutes to regain your strength before getting dressed. You picked a hoodie that you’d stolen from your dads closet a long time ago, hoping that it would help you feel closer to him. You had been missing him more than you had in a very long time. You squeezed into a pair of jeans, debating whether to change into sweatpants, but eventually convinced yourself to wear them anyway.

You returned to the bathroom to dust on some makeup, hoping to cover the deep eye-bags and pale skin. About halfway through, you realized that there was not enough makeup in the world to cover up your heartbreak. You put on some lipgloss and sprayed some perfume, finishing just in time to hear the doorbell. With a sigh of defeat, you abandoned your reflection to greet Scott. You trudged to the front door, unlocking the knob and swinging it open to reveal his smiling face. He was much more relaxed than he was the weekend prior, and his clothes were not nearly as fancy. Relief flooded you when you realized that this was, in fact, just a friendly meal.

“Good afternoon, Sunshine.” He chuckled, first noticing your solemn face. You had given him a brief rundown of the situation the night before through a poorly written text so he knew what he was walking into, but you feared that it did not even come close to the way you were truly feeling. In truth, you had been texting quite often, and you weren’t sure that any of it made sense. Still, he was smiling, happily radiating positivity in hopes of making you feel better.

“Not much that’s good about it.” You grumbled, grabbing your purse from the hook by the door. You double checked for your phone and keys before nodding your head in the direction of his car. Your pessimism was staggering, but it did not seem to phase him.

“There’s lots of good,” he tried, stepping out of the way to allow you outside. “You get to see me. That’s good, is it not?” He raised an eyebrow, watching as you locked your door.

“You give yourself too much credit.” He chuckled at your grumpy expression, brushing off your insults like it was nothing.

“You look nice.” He said, placing a hand on your shoulder as you both made your way to the car.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a small smile. You knew you should not be so harsh with him; he only wanted to help, and you should be grateful for that. When you missed Jake so badly, it made it hard to think of anything other than the sound of your broken heart. “You, too.”

“You have any idea where we should go?” He asked, opening your door for you. You climbed inside, trying to ignore the turn of your stomach at the thought of food. When he got in next to you, he was still waiting for a response.

“Do you remember that little cafe we used to go to in high school?” You asked, suddenly recalling the little spot that you spent so much time together in all those years ago.

“With the two dollar sandwiches?” He asked, laughing at the idea.

“Yeah, and the best grilled cheese in the whole world.” You added, making sure he remembered that fact. “It’s a little bit of a drive, but I haven’t been there in forever.”

“I’m down,” he said, putting the car in reverse and pulling out on the road “I’ve got all day.” He looked down at the radio, reaching out and grabbing a cord. He tossed the aux in your direction and turned the speakers up a notch. “I haven’t been to that diner in a long time, either. We used to go there every day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “you, me, Seth and Katie Haynes.” You tried to hide the sneer in your voice when you spoke the names.

“Fuck, yes! I forgot about her.” He shook his head in disbelief at his own memory.

“I sure didn’t.” You leaned back in the seat, clicking on the seat warmer in hopes of soothing your aching body. Laying in bed nonstop finally seemed to be taking a toll on you. “Maybe I should have clued in that Seth wasn’t the one when I caught them fucking in my bedroom at my own house.”

“Not to say I told you so, but…” you rolled your eyes, reaching over and giving him a light smack on the arm.

“You know, that’s like rule number one of what not to say when you’re trying to cheer someone up.”

“Oh, I know.” He laughed. “That wasn’t to make you feel better; I just like being right.” It was crazy how fast the two of you seemed to rekindle the friendship that was once so strong. It made you regret losing contact with him, and you thought that if you had been friends with him the whole time, life might have seemed a little less lonely.

“Some things never change.” You sighed, looking out the window as he drove. For a little while, the two of you sat in silence. You admired the city and how it continued on as normal despite you feeling like the world was ending. It was a terrible thing to know that the sun would continue to rise and fall even while you felt like you were dying. You turned on your phone, finding yourself sick of the sad music floating through the stereo. You looked through playlist after playlist, but could not seem to find one that sounded appealing to you. When you grew sick of scrolling your phone in search of a song to play, you gave up and hit shuffle on your recently listened songs, and the first note that played was equal to a punch straight to the stomach.

“Oh, who’s this?” He asked, intrigued at the old-timey sound of the guitar.

“Uh, it’s called ‘Built By Nations’.” You muttered, trying to tune out the guitar and focus on Josh’s voice.

“Who’s it by?” He asked again, his original question being left unanswered.

“My ex and his brothers.” You confessed, You cheeks searing with heat.

“A musician in Nashville, y/n? Come on.” He implored you to think your decision out again.

“I know, I know.” You sighed. “Definitely wasn’t my smartest decision, but I’m suffering now, am I not?”

“Fair enough.” He laughed, taking the cutoff to the road that housed your old High School.

You were hit with a whirlwind of memories as he slowed down, likely feeling the same as you were in that moment. You strained to look out at the football field, and laughed to yourself as you saw the old sign that displayed the name. It was falling apart with some of the letters missing, but it was familiar, and it was comforting. You didn’t hate high school, but you did hate the life events that happened while attending. It seemed to sour the whole experience, but as you thought back on it, you knew it was not nearly as bad as you made it out to be.

“If you could go back for a day, would you?” He asked, looking over at you as the sight passed you by.

“I think so.” You nodded. “Would you?”

“Oh, for sure.” He chuckled, no doubt in his mind about it. With that, he turned down another side road, and within seconds, you were in front of the diner that was a staple of your childhood. He pulled into the half-full lot, and not long after that, the two of you were walking inside. Immediately, you were drawn to the corner booth in which you’d spent so many hours in. It was empty, just like it was meant for you two to sit there. You took to one side, and he slid in the other. You placed your phone in your purse and threw it down beside you, looking around the small area and reminiscing on the memories made in that very spot.

“Let me guess, bacon cheeseburger and not one, but two cokes to go with it. And one to go.” You grinned, looking over at his face as he laughed at your words.

“You know me so well, sunshine.” He admitted to it without argument; he got the same thing every day of senior year despite having a whole menu to choose from. “And you’ll get a grilled cheese with tomatoes on it, because you’re weird.”

“Tomatoes aren’t weird.” You scoffed. “You don’t think that ten months worth of ordering cheeseburgers is weird?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He waved you off. “So, tell me what happened.”

“Eager much?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve waited a whole week to hear how it went, I think I’ve been plenty patient about it.”

“Fine,” you sighed, giving a shrug. “We fought in the parking lot, and on the drive home, and at my house. We said some mean things, stuff that we can never take back no matter how hard we try, then it went back to normal for a little while.” Normal was a strange description when it was referring to angry sex in your kitchen, but it fit the bill for you and Jake. Sex was the most normal thing about your relationship aside from the sadness, and occasionally, a wordless ‘I love you’. “It was nice, but I think that once the situation settled and I had a moment to think about everything, it just… it didn’t seem right.”

“What didn’t seem right?” He asked, hoping you would be more specific.

“All of it, you know? Like, we aren’t even dating and we’ve been hurting each other’s feelings and fighting. I can only imagine what it would be like if we were together.” He gave a small laugh, shaking his head slightly as you spoke. “What? What’s funny?”

“You, sunshine. You’ve always been so stubborn.” You opened your mouth to argue back, but he held up his hand as if to say he wasn’t finished. With a huff, you held back your words. “You guys are fighting because you’re feelings are hurt, whatever, it happens and it’s no big deal. Why are your feelings hurt, y/n?”

“Because he said the only thing I was good for was sex, and then he was all sweet and nice once we made up, but invited another girl on a date? How can you make up with someone and say that you care about them, then kiss another girl like it’s nothing?”

“Just the same as how you can take another guy on a date while you’re in love with him.” He shrugged, knowing he had you in a stalemate.

“I’m not in love with him!” Your voice was shrill, reacting as if the word was poison being forced down your throat. You were lying through your teeth, and even you knew how untruthful your words were.

“Oh, cut the shit, sunshine.” He rolled his eyes, pausing for a moment as the waitress approached you. He gave her a warm smile and ordered for both of you, and within minutes, she was on her way. “You’ve been moping around your house for a week because you broke up with your sort of boyfriend that you’re absolutely not in love with?” When he said it in such a way, you could clearly see how stupid you sounded. With a sigh of defeat, you gave in to the urge to speak the truth.

“Okay, fine, I love him.” Even as you said it, your whole body felt as if it was trying to reject the confession. You shuddered at the word and your palms broke out into a sweat. You ran them across the fabric of your jeans as you tried to calm yourself down. “I do, but I don’t want to, and it scares the shit out of me.”

“Why does it scare you?” He asked, taking a drink from one of the cokes the waitress dropped off. You sipped at the coffee she left behind for you.

“He’s the first person I’ve been with since I left Seth.” You confessed. “I mean, I’ve had one night stands, but never with anyone like him. It’s never been anything like this.”

“It’s never been with someone you’ve cared about.” He deducted.

“Yeah,” You nodded. “When I left Seth, I promised that I would never be with someone like that again. I never wanted anyone to have that type of power over me, and I didn’t want to get close to someone again just to realize that they’re a monster in disguise. It’s easier to be alone than to be alone while in a relationship, and I don’t ever want to suffer that way again.” You stirred some sugar into the mug, watching as the liquid formed a small whirlpool around the metal utensil. “When Jake and I first met, we were both on the same page, but somewhere along the way, the lines got blurred. I’m not innocent, either, and I know that. I was playing house with him and pretending like nothing was wrong, and then he started talking about wanting more, and it scared me so much that I ran. Well, no,” you chuckled “I backed him into a corner and forced him to run.”

“Why are you so scared of him, though? I mean, after this long, and after all of the shit you put each other through, you would be able to see that he’s bad, wouldn’t you?” He played with the paper wrapper that was previously encased around his straw, peeking up from his hands to catch your gaze.

“Maybe? I don’t know.” You sighed, your shoulders slumping with the weight of your emotions. “I’m not scared of him, per say. I’m scared of love, and I’m scared of getting hurt, and I’m scared of losing another person that I care about.”

“Is this about Seth, or is this about your dad?” He asked, voice as quiet as a mouse. He seemed afraid to ask, but more than that, he seemed afraid of your response.

You were stunned for a moment, and the flood of emotion that ran through you was more powerful than anything you’d ever felt. If it were anyone else sitting before you asking that dreaded question, you would have stood and screamed, thrown things from the table just to make a scene and show them how uncalled for the moment was. Instead, you gave a slow blink, but you did not do any of the things you wanted to. While you processed his words, you were plagued with a lifetimes worth of memories that involved the boy sitting across from you. Memories of him holding you while you screamed and cried in your childhood bedroom, clutching your fathers last worn t-shirt tightly to your chest. Memories of his hand in yours while you zombied your way through the funeral proceedings, and memories of him being the only person in the world who could pry a smile from your face while being plagued with such grief.

Even worse than that, there was memories of him sitting at the kitchen table with your father, talking about the football game that aired on television the night before. Ones where Scott would not just drive you to the hospital to visit your father while he succumbed to sickness, but where he walked into the morbid building and sat beside you, your sister and your mother while you tried to cheer your father up during his last days on earth. Scott was allowed to ask that question, not just because of how familiar he was with your grief, but because he grieved, too. Scott may have been a face that was forgotten along with the past, but he was not one that became insignificant. You fought tooth and nail to remove yourself from the life you lived so long ago, but a bond like such carried through until the end of time.

Your heartbreak from Jake may have done more damage than good, but there is always light that shines in the dark. Your breakup allowed for you to sit across the table at a fabled diner with your best friend for the first seventeen years of life. Your time away may have allowed you to forget how much of you he’d seen, but your heart could never forget the importance of his presence.

Instead of screaming, you nodded your head, telling him all you refused to say aloud. He was the only person who you would trust with such things, and despite your unwillingness to speak about it, you knew that he already knew the answer. Seth held little power over you anymore, and your fear of Jake turning out like him was ridiculous, but your dad? He was everything to you. He lived in every decision, every waking moment and thought that crossed your mind. He was a part of every heartbreak and triumph, and his advice rang in your ears every time you second-guessed yourself. The fear of disappointing him was true even after his death, and if anything, it only ever got worse.

More than that, his death crushed you. It left you lying on the floor, cursing every higher power and questioning the very universe that created you. It destroyed any hope and any sense of purpose, and it stole the happiness straight from your chest before it ever had the chance to bloom. You were familiar with loss, but despite it being an acquaintance, it was your own mortal enemy. You knew that it existed, and that it was always looming, but you lived your life in such a way that loss could not touch you. You never let people get too close, and you cut them off before they tried. You distanced yourself from everyone you loved most in hopes of sparing yourself the pain, and you could not even allow yourself to get a pet in anticipation of the crushing grief to come when it was their time to pass on.

The idea of loving Jake scared you so much that it shook you to the core, disrupting your entire life and forcing you to lock him out. The fear did not stem from your inability to love, or because you could not trust your own judgement of his character, but because you could not handle it if he were to suddenly get up and leave. You could not choke down the idea of loving someone enough to hurt after they were gone, and since your father died, no loss could ever come close to the pain you had felt from his death. Now, you knew that Jake leaving was the only pain in the world that could rival the one you had felt so many years ago, housed in your childhood home that held only a ghost of the man you loved most.

“Of course it is, Scott. It’s always about him.” Your throat was dry like you had just screamed out, and your eyes burned as if tears had ran them dry, but none of those things happened; the grief was so plentiful that it had bled you dry, and now it was the only thing to exist within your veins. “I can’t love him because I cannot imagine losing someone again. I can’t imagine how much it would hurt if he walked away, or if… yeah.”

“You don’t have to imagine it, sunshine.” He said, giving you a sympathetic smile. “You’re feeling it right now.”

“I know I am, but I keep trying to convince myself that hurting right now will save me from something worse later on.” You rubbed your face in your hands, wiping away non-existent tears. You felt like you were crying, and you knew you should be, but there seemed to be no tears left to cry.

“Or you’re holding yourself back from the best thing you’ve ever felt.” He offered the alternative, pausing the conversation while the waitress sat your food in front of you. He muttered a thank you, and once again, she was on her way. “Sure, leaving first ensures that he can’t leave you, but it also kills any possibility of happiness. What you’re doing right now limits you from a world of good; everything good comes with risk, y/n, and from what you’re telling me, he seems worth the risk.”

“He is. He’s worth it all.” You nodded, biting into a French fry. Despite your sorrow, you felt better than you had in days. “And I am worried about that pain, because I’m scared I can’t survive it again, but what I’m worried about most is that I’m too broken for him to handle. I don’t know how to love someone, Scott. It’s been five years since I’ve even let someone stay in my life for more than a weekend. Maybe I did all of those years ago, but not anymore. I’m angry, and I’m stubborn, and I’m more work than I’m worth. It’s not fair to him, and as much as I fear him breaking my heart, I’m even more afraid of breaking his.” You explained. “He’s been hurt, too. He deserves the world, and I’m not the person that can give it to him. He needs someone who has their shit together, and I’ve never once had all of my ducks in a row.”

“You can’t make that decision for him, y/n.” He said, taking a bite from his own meal. He let the words sit with you for a moment before speaking again. “I know you, and all you’ve ever wanted to do was protect people. It’s incredibly amicable, but sometimes you have to let them choose for themselves. To me, it sounds like he thinks you’re worth the risk, too.”

“I can’t do that to him.” You shook your head. “Sure, he’s choosing for himself, but I don’t think he knows what he’s getting into.”

“After this long, he knows, y/n, and he doesn’t care.” He assured you. “Listen, I know how guys think: if he was in this for any lesser purpose, he would have left a long time ago. If he did not care about you, he would not have shown up at the restaurant that night. That look in his eye was more than jealousy; it was the type of love that drives you insane. Don’t think you breaking up with him will get rid of that.”

“How do I stop being afraid?” You asked, in disbelief of the fact that he thought it was simple. “I’ve been afraid my whole life, it’s not just something I can turn off, even if I wish it was.”

“You never stop being afraid, sunshine. You just have to love each other enough that it doesn’t matter anymore.”

The meal went by without any further talks of Jake or your last heartbreaks. Instead, you filled the air with jokes and laughter, and gratitude for being in each others lives again. Although your relationship was rekindled for poor reasons, you were still thankful that you got the chance to be around him again. When the check came, you fulfilled your promise to repay him for the dinner cut short. When you climbed back into his car, you felt dread settle in your stomach. You weren’t ready to go home; you had been alone for days, and while that was something you normally loved, you’d now grown to hate it. You felt so happy to be with company that the idea of going home to an empty house sickened you. Worse yet, you did not know if you could go back and suffer through your relentless thoughts about Jake.

The drive home was filled with loud music, both of you singing along at the top of your lungs. You managed to convince him to stop at a coffee shop, claiming that you needed more caffeine to survive the day, but it was only to avoid the inevitable. When you made it back to the suburbs that you called home, your body felt heavy with the weight of your own loneliness. He pulled into your driveway, slowly rolling the car to a stop before he put it into park.

“Thank you, Scott.” You mumbled, looking down at your hands settled in your lap.

“No need for thanks,” he brushed you off “I hope I helped.”

“You did.” You nodded. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I definitely feel better.”

“You don’t need to know right now.” He assured you. “You can take all the time you need; it’s your life, sunshine.”

“You’re right.” You breathed, forcing a smile on to your face. “I’m sorry things ended up like this. It wasn’t my intent for you to be my own personal therapist.”

“It was meant to work out like this.” He shrugged. “I’m just happy I get to see you again. Watching your life through limited Facebook posts was sad. I missed my friend, and that’s the biggest reason I asked you out.”

“I missed you, too. I think I would really like it if we hung out more often.” You confessed. “I’ve been far too isolated. I’m too young to be so afraid of being alive.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, leaning across the seats to give you a hug. You rested in his arms for a moment, soaking up all of the physical contact you could before having to retreat inside. “I’ll see you soon?” He asked, pulling back just enough to catch sight of your face.

“Of course. Thank you again.” You gave him one last smile before making your departure, feeling your stomach sink more with every step you took towards the front door.

You had no idea what to do, and a part of you felt like you should call Jake and at least apologize for all that happened. Still, there was a bigger, more stubborn part of you that still believed he was better off without you. Once you locked the door and you were safely inside, you heard Scott pull out of your driveway and begin his journey home. You kicked off your shoes and threw your purse down on your kitchen counter. You reached into the pocket of your sweater, letting your fingers linger on your phone for a moment. You wanted to pull it out, to dial Jake’s number from memory and confess everything your heart felt for him. For a while, you sat in the kitchen, clutching your phone and unable to find the strength to go any further.

You loved him, but you loved him enough that you could not bear the thought of dragging him down with you. He was too good, and you were too much. The thought alone made tears pool in your eyes and your bottom lip begin to quiver. You wondered if your dad was looking down on you, proud of you for being the bigger person, or if he was disappointed in you for letting another good thing pass you by.

Then, the most painful thought of all struck you out of nowhere: he would never get the chance to meet Jake and grow to love him like you did.

You knew your father would be Jake’s biggest fan; his kind heart and his lax attitude was loveable no matter who he was using it on, and his love of music and talent on the guitar would win your dad over indefinitely. Jake was the type of guy your father had begged you to fall in love with, but he surely did not anticipate you being too broken to love him back.

Suddenly, the thoughts and the feelings got to be too much and you had to force yourself out of them. Instead of calling Jake, you shut off your phone. Instead of being the bigger person and confessing your love, you climbed into bed fully clothed and searched for the scent of him in your bedsheets. Instead of growing up and forgetting your fear, you closed your eyes and fell asleep while trying to remember what it felt like to have his arm wrapped around you.

When you woke, the sun was no longer shining through the window. Instead, the moonlight was plentiful and it casted a white glow over your bedroom, illuminating the sadness and the emptiness that now lived inside. You were groggy, barely within the plane of existence, but you tried your best to shake off the feeling. You were certain you heard a soft thud sound from the kitchen, but you chalked it up to you remaining amidst a dream despite being conscious, now. You tumbled from your bed, planting your feet firmly on the floor as you stretched out your arms and let out a yawn. When you stepped out of your room and into the bathroom to brush your teeth, you thought that you heard the sound again. You brushed it off, knowing that the likelihood of it being anything important was slim. The idea of someone knocking on your door was laughable, and you did not want to torture yourself by checking to see and being met with nothing.

You rinsed your mouth and wiped away the specs of mascara that had fallen underneath your eyes. You let out a sigh at your reflection, grabbing a a makeup wipe and ridding yourself of all the makeup. You washed your face and moved on to the kitchen, where you grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the fridge and began pouring yourself a glass. It had become a nightly routine, and you knew that with a few shots, you’d be back to sleep in no time.

As you dropped the ice into your glass you heard the noise again, but stronger this time. It caught your attention so fast that you could not doubt that it was real. You wondered if Scott had driven back to your side of town to check on you, or if maybe your mother had come over to see if you were alive. You had been ignoring her calls and messages, and although you knew you should answer, you could not bring yourself to do it. You took a sip of your drink before stepping towards the door, using it as a bit of courage to face another social interaction. Your fear of being alone no longer existed, and the longer you stayed holed up in your house, the more tempting isolation seemed.

You unlocked the deadbolt and the knob, wondering who would be here so late at night if not for a friend. Lately, friends were scarce and you had little idea who could be there. When you opened the door fully, getting a clear view of who was on the other side, you nearly fell to your knees. You were frozen, stuck staring at his face as you processed the fact he was really standing there, the corners of his lips upturned into a small, breathtaking smile. He seemed just as happy to see you, but he did not make a move to greet you first. Eventually, you mustered enough courage to speak.

“Hi,” you breathed, completely taken aback by the boy in front of you. After days of missing him, wondering if you would ever be lucky enough to see him again, you had a hard time believing that the man before you was real. In some strange way, it felt like he was a figment of your exhausted and worn down imagination. You feared that if you reached out and touched him, he would disappear before your very eyes. You did not want to be met with any more disappointment, because in the last week, that was all you felt. If he were to suddenly fade away, you thought that you might not be able to survive it. The sight of his face was the most comforting thing you had seen since he was last with you, and the knowledge that he was still thinking of you made you weak in the knees.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He said, giving you a soft smile. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course.” You nodded, stepping out of the way to allow him inside. You tried not to think about the butterflies running rampant in your belly at the sound of the pet name. He stepped towards you, out of the warm night air and into the comfort of your home that he’d grown so used to. You watched his face, dazed at his beauty and wondering how you ever forced yourself to let him go. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and a look in his eyes that you could not place. You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen it before, but you liked it more than you cared to admit.

Then, before he spoke again, you had a sudden sense of dread wash over you; he was likely only there to retrieve his clothing he had left behind. The ache in your chest at the thought was unbearable, but you forced yourself to remain calm and allow him to do what he needed to do.

“You’re here to get your stuff?” You asked, trying to hide your feelings of frustration and sound as cheerful as possible. If only you could tell him how much you cared, maybe he wouldn’t clear out the only remaining memories of your relationship. You hated how much you had grown to like his life being intertwined with your own in such ways. He furrowed his eyebrows, looking over your face as he tried to place the emotion behind your eyes.

“No, angel.” He chuckled, dropping his bag down on the floor. You listened to the sound, realizing that if anything, it sounded quite full. A rush of relief ran through you, even if you knew you should have wanted him to clear out all of his belongings. It was for the best, even if you did not want him to leave again, especially for good.

“Oh,” you breathed, trying to compute what was happening. “So… why are you here?” You hated that it came out so harsh, and it was not at all what you were intending, but it did get your point across clearly. You were confused, you were still hurting, and more than anything, you wanted to know what his intent was.

He stepped closer to you, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Then, he reached up, letting the knuckle of his index finger softly caress your cheek. You let your eyes flutter closed at the feeling, the sensation intoxicating and when mixed with the scent of his cologne, deadly. He tucked your hair behind your ear as he noticed pieces falling from the messy bun sat atop your head. After that, his hand drifted towards your neck, settling gently on the back of it as he drew you closer to him.

You were too weak to fight him, and too tired to care. You missed his comfort more than anything, and you did not want to deny yourself the pleasure after you had suffered so much.

“You look tired, sweetheart.” He said, studying your face. He could see the dark circles forming, and the fire in your eyes he loved so much now seemed dim, nearly burnt out. Your head was upturned to meet his gaze, and he was looking down at you. In another universe, you would even go as far as to say that the two of you seemed to fit together with perfect harmony. “Have you been sleeping?”

“Not really.” You shook your head ever so slightly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch him. You noticed the same tell-tale signs in his own features. “Have you?”

“No.” He said, still staring intently at your face. He missed it so much that he was trying to memorize every detail all over again. Unintentionally, you felt yourself leaning into him. His face was so close, and your eyes were begging to close as you pulled him in for a kiss. He felt it just as much, and he was hoping you would cross the invisible boundary you had drawn for yourself. You were in such close proximity that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, drawing you in further. The tip of your nose brushed against his, sending jolts of electricity through your whole body.

It was so good that you almost fell victim to him once again.

“Jake,” you breathed, pulling back from him and placing a soft hand on his chest so he would keep his distance. The separation was painful, but necessary. “We can’t do this. Friends don’t do this.” Tears pricked your eyes at the term of friendship, but you managed to blink them away before any slipped onto your cheeks.

“Right,” he sighed, nodding against you and accepting your words. Before you knew it, he had stepped out of reach and you were left wishing that you never spoke at all. You watched him move away from you, still questioning if you were dreaming or of conscious mind. For a second, you feared that he would walk towards the door and out of your life again. The grief at the thought alone was debilitating. Then, he bent down and unzipped the top of his track bag. You watched as he carefully pulled something from it, looking over the item for a moment before turning back to you. When he straightened up and made a move to face you again, you nearly fell to your knees. “That’s actually why I came here.” He said, clearing his throat to rid himself of the nervousness plaguing him.

He extended his hand towards you, watching you closely in fear of a volatile reaction. He had brought up the idea once before and you had confirmed your distaste for it, but he could not seem to help himself. He thought you deserved it. He thought that you were worth it. Your eyes were glued to the brown paper that was delicately wrapped around a bouquet of red roses. You were so stunned that you could not even manage to look up to meet his gaze.

How could he do that to you? How could he walk in like nothing happened with a bouquet of roses and a tongue as sharp as a knife? Sweetness dripped from his words and his actions, but you were in no state of mind to receive such treatment from him. His gestures were profound and you adored him for it, but it was not what you needed when you were dedicated to getting over him.

“Jake,” you warned, saying his name like it was the only hymn you knew how to sing. He appeared so ethereal, so beautiful and bright while he held the token of love, but you were not enough of a fool to believe that it could be true. His angelic smile and his breathtaking eyes were nowhere near anything holy, and you had learned the truth a long time ago. He was not good for you, and you were not good for him. You both knew it, but he did not want to accept it. By showing up and handing out grand gestures, he was only worsening the suffering.

“Stop it, y/n.” He said, giving you a stern look. “Take them, please. I spent so long picking them out that it would be a shame for them to go to waste.” Your heart sped at his words, realizing that the longer you looked, the less it seemed like the bouquet was a thoughtless, last minute purchase on his way over. The paper was arranged beautifully amidst the blood red petals and emerald stems and leaves. Tied around the stems was twine that was carefully cut and settled into a bow. You were not a background thought in his head; he had gone to an expensive florist and pondered over dozens of flowers to bring to you. He picked them with care and caution, wondering what would catch your eye the most.

He cared enough to spend the time and the money on you, but what was even worse than that was that he was the first person to ever give you a bouquet of flowers. How could you get over him when he’d been the first man in the world other than your father to care so much about you?

“Friends don’t give each other flowers.” You said, looking hesitantly towards his face.

“You’re right, y/n. Friends don’t give each other flowers.” He sighed, still holding his arm out to you. “I’m giving these to you because we’re not friends, and you and I both know that.”

“No, Jake.” You shook your head, crossing your arms across your stomach and hugging yourself to satiate the steadily growing anxiety. “I told you, we can’t do that. I’m not good for you. This isn’t good for us.” You shook your head, panicking at the idea of hurting each other again. He was too fantastic to be subject to the hurt the two of you were so good at causing.

“Would you quit that? Stop being so fucking stubborn.” He argued, getting visibly frustrated. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me. You don’t get to choose if I want to be with you or not. Only I can, and I’m choosing you, y/n. I’m standing here in front of you, telling you that I am, and that I will choose you every day for the rest of my life. You don’t get to tell me that we can only be friends, and you don’t get to tell me that this won’t work. You can’t always call the shots. I get a say, too.”

“I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just saying that this is only going to hurt us! I’m trying to protect you, and I wish you could see that!” You exclaimed, trying to ward off the temptation to run into his arms. His words were devastatingly beautiful and everything you had ever longed to hear, but you could not be selfish and bring him down with you.

“Protect me from what?” He shot back, appalled at your inability to comprehend what he was saying. “You? Myself? Us?”

“Everything! I don’t know!” You were exasperated by his reaction, not able to understand how he could not see it the same way you did. Two people that hated love could not love each other peacefully. You had proven that with your jealousy and toxic games, and you cared about him far too much to involve him in such things. The sin the two of you had engaged in had left you both resembling the devil, and you feared that if you let it go any further, you would turn to ash in the barren, fiery wastelands of hell.

“I shouldn’t have left that night, y/n. I never should have let you go, but I didn’t want to push you, and I didn’t want to scare you away. It was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m here now to tell you everything I need to say. I have to get it off my chest, because if I don’t, it’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life. If you still think that it’s for the best, then I’ll let you go, but not until I tell you everything.” You watched him, pain written so clearly on your face. You did not have the heart to turn him down, and you did not have the strength to keep up the act. You wanted him so badly that it was impossible to send him away, and his persistence was charming despite your hesitancy.

“Okay.” You nodded, choking on the word as it fell from your lips. You knew that whatever he had to say would turn your whole world upside down, but for some reason, you were okay with it. When in his company, even if he was causing peacefulness or devastation, it seemed right. You could comfortably watch him tear your house down one panel at a time, and you would have a smile on your face and love in your heart because you were there with him. You reached out, slowly wrapping your fingers around the bouquet. Your hand brushed against his as you did, the burning warmth of his skin sending a shiver down your spine. You had no idea how even the simplest of interactions with him always seemed so magnificent. “Thank you, Jake.” You looked down at the petals, tears shining in your eyes as you digested the sentiment that came along with the gift.

Now that you held them, it made the moment all the more real. Jake was a man who cared about you so deeply that it made you question if he was even real. You had never felt emotion so strongly, good or bad. He made everything a million times more powerful, and even something as small as buying you flowers seemed to knock the air from your lungs and make your knees weak. You had never felt so important to anyone in your entire life, and as good as it felt, you feared that if it ever came to an end, you would perish from the grief of the loss.

“You keep saying that you want to protect me, but there’s nothing you have to protect me from, y/n. I’m a grown man who understands what I’m getting myself into, and I’m telling you that I don’t care about the risks.” He watched you take a step towards the kitchen, following closely behind you as you moved to set the flowers on the counter. Once they were safely placed, you turned to look at him again, giving him all of your attention. “When I met you at the bar that night, I wasn't looking for anything but sex. We both know that, and I don’t feel a need to lie about it. When I sat down and I finally got you to talk to me, I knew right away that you were going to be more than sex. You can’t just meet someone so fantastic and pretend they’re ordinary, angel, and you are all but ordinary.” Your stomach twisted in knots at his words, but you bit down on your tongue and listened as he poured his heart out to you.

“You are the most beautiful, smart, witty, and charming woman I have ever met. You take my breath away every time I see you, and you make me feel things I’ve never felt before in my entire life. I could go on about how I feel about you forever, but it still wouldn’t even come close to how I feel in my heart. I don’t think there’s enough words in the dictionary to describe how much I care for you.” He was close to you, but not enough that you felt trapped. There was about a foot of space between you, and you would never say it, but you were desperate for him to come closer. Your eyes were focused on his face as he spoke. The emotion in his eyes was so profound that you could feel it as if it were your own. “I know I promised you that I wouldn’t fuck this up, and I’m sorry that things happened the way they did, but falling for you was the easiest thing I have ever done. I was yours before we ever left the bar that night, and as much as you don’t want me to be, I can’t apologize for something I don’t believe is wrong. I am sorry that I broke my promise, but I have never been sorry for caring about you.”

“I’ve spent the last three months trying to memorize every detail about you because I want to know everything you have to offer. I know that you hate breakfast, because it’s too intimate, and emotional intimacy scares the shit out of you. I know that you have the exact same routine before bed; you turn on your fan to the third setting, because the fourth is too loud and the second isn’t enough. Then, you climb into bed and you check your phone, but not for texts or social media likes. You check your schedule, just to make sure you’re not forgetting about an appointment with a client, because your work means everything to you. Then, you get up again because you can remember if you locked the door or not, and you make sure the oven is off for the fifth time while you’re out there. When you get back into bed, you toss and turn for twenty minutes until you eventually end up on your stomach, because that is the only way you can fall asleep.” As he told you the most miniscule details about yourself, your ego shattered and the shards of what once was so strong seemed to stab you with every breath. Nobody had ever cared to know you so well, and he was recounting it like he’d dedicated his whole life to studying it.

“Your sister is your whole life, and you mark off the days on your calendar just so you can count down the hours until she comes home to visit. You only ever sit on the left side of the couch, and you have about a dozen half-empty water bottles beside your bed because you forget about your open one and grab a new one every night. When you laugh, you cover your mouth with your hands and you try to keep it to yourself. I don’t know why, because it’s the most beautiful sound I have ever heard. You play with your hair when you’re nervous, and you blush when you lie.” As he spoke, your hand darted away from the ends of your hair as if it had just burned you.

“Stop, Jake.” You whispered, feeling sick at the sheer amount of knowledge he had about you.

“No, y/n.” He shook his head. “I’ll never stop talking about you, because knowing you so well is the best feeling in the whole world, especially because I know I’m the only one who does. I could talk about you for hours, because I think everyone should know how fantastic you are. I know all of this stuff, and I still want more. You can call me selfish, but I don’t care. I want to spend my life getting to know you, and I will be eighty years old and still wanting to learn something new about you.” He explained, hoping you were understanding what he meant. “Friends don’t know each other like this, sweetheart, and it would be a fucking shame if we tried to be strangers again after everything we’ve been through. Knowing you any less than I do right now seems like torture, and I don’t ever want to do that.”

“I’m not scared of you, and I’m not scared of this. I’ve spent every day since I first met you falling for you, and now, it’s the most comfortable feeling I’ve ever felt. You don’t get to tell me that I’d be happier without you, or as friends, or with someone else, because it’s just not true. You are what I want, and I know you have to feel it, too. I’ve never felt this way before, and I know we’ve both been hurt, and I know that you’re scared, but you can’t tell me that this isn’t good for us. We haven’t even tried, angel. If you let me, I can show you that love is not as scary as it seems, because we’ve already been doing it.”

“Jake,” you let out a shaky breath, your eyes shining with tears as you tried to process all he was saying. His name seemed like the only thought your brain could formulate.

“Baby, you are everything to me. I’m here, and I want to stay if you’ll let me. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not going to hurt you like everyone else has. I know that I already have, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it right, but I promise that I will never do that to you again.” He took a small step towards you, gauging your comfort before he jumped straight into it. “I know that you don’t like this part, but I would be an idiot if I didn’t ask you to try. I want to be what you deserve, and I want to be with you, more than I’ve ever wanted anything my whole life.” He reached out, lifting your chin up with his index finger to look in your eyes. “All I’m asking for is one chance. One shot to prove that I’m telling the truth. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left you here, and I don’t think I ever will.”

He cared, and he cared so much that he was willing to get his heart broken all over again for the chance to have you. He did not want to promise you love and then leave, nor did he want to pretend to be all you needed just to take it away. He wanted you, and loving you was all he ever wanted to do. Jake had never been the enemy; you only had yourself to blame, ruining your chances at happiness before the opportunity ever arose. You were hurt, guarded and protective over your own frail heart, but he did not want to shatter it like you previously thought. He wanted to help strengthen it again, to show you that your heart would be safe as long as it was offered to the right people. He wanted to love you like you always should have been, and Scott was right that night at the restaurant; what the two of you had was a type of love that you should never let go of. He was the most selfless, caring and kind man you had ever met, and if you let him leave once more, you knew you would lose him forever.

“Okay.” You breathed, nodding your head as your heart drummed rapidly against your chest. You were terrified, but being in his company made the fear obsolete. The look in his eyes aided you in believing that you would be more than okay, and that he would be better than anyone who came before. You felt like you were being crushed underneath the weight of your own longing for him. “I’ll try for you, Jake.” There was no doubt in your mind that you would try until your body began to deteriorate and your mind went numb. You would try for him until you could no longer do it and death was the only other option. You would do anything to experience love at his hand again, because it was the most beautiful thing you had ever experienced.

“Yeah?” He asked with a little laugh stuck in his throat that screamed disbelief.

“Yes,” you nodded, praying that he would bridge the gap. Before you could ask him to come closer, his hands shot out and grabbed your face between them, still gentle with you as if he was scared to break you. He stepped forward, and within seconds, his lips were locked on your own and your arms were around him again. The taste of him was addicting, more than any other drug in the world. The feeling of his skin on your was intoxicating, and his hands felt like heaven when they touched you with such care. You were helplessly in love with him, and no amount of time or distance could change it. He was everything you needed, all of the time, and you were an idiot to try and push him away.

When he parted, you were both breathless and smiling. He was still close enough to your face that you could feel his warmth, and you hoped that he never had to pull back. You wanted to live in the bliss forever, and with him until the end of time.

“I want to try, Jake. I’m so scared, but I want to try as long as it’s with you.” The quiver in your voice was louder than anything else in the room, and he drank up the vulnerability as if he was dying from thirst. “I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to get hurt, but you were right; we can’t let go of this without giving it our best. I’ve been so terrified of losing you that it’s made me blind to how much I care, and I don’t ever want to feel how I felt this week ever again.” All he could do was smile; there was no words to describe the relief he felt.

“I knew you were something more, too. You came in here and suddenly my house felt empty without you. I hate love and relationships, but you make me hate the idea a lot less. I want to try, and I want us to try together, but I want it to work. I don’t want to give up when things get hard, and I don’t want to fight or make each other suffer. I want to be with you, and I want to do it right, this time.” You confessed, all of the words pouring from you with no signs of stopping. “I’m scared to fall in love with you because I was scared of losing you, but I’m doing it anyway by forcing you to stay away. You’re worth the risk, Jake. You always have been, and I’m so sorry that I couldn’t say it sooner.”

“You’re saying it now.” He breathed, almost unable to believe that the words were genuine. When he showed up at your doorstep, he expected to be met with rejection. Instead, you were telling him everything he craved to hear from you. It was almost too good for him to believe that it was true. “That’s what matters, angel.” He placed another kiss to your lips, lingering there for a moment to soak up all of the intimacy he could. “I want that, too. I’ve done it wrong so many times, but I want to do it right this time. I want to do it right with you.”

“I missed you so much.” You admitted, reaching up and cupping his cheek in your hand. You let your thumb drift over the soft skin, wondering how you ever survived without him around.

“You don’t have to miss me anymore. I’m here, and I want to stay.” You closed your eyes, fighting back tears at the sound of his words. He was here, he wanted to stay, and he wanted to love you. You were so lucky to have him, and you were so stupid to think that you could let him go. One of his hands dropped to your hip, his fingers gently grasping at you as he attempted to pull you closer. “I’m going to say it.”

“Say what?” You giggled, peeking at him through tired eyes. You were exhausted, finally comfortable after days of suffering and sleepless nights, but you weren’t willing to end the moment yet. You would never sleep again if it meant you could always be with him, just like you were in that moment.

“I love you, sweetheart.” A wave of emotion washed over you, stopping your heart and filling your lungs. You watched his face, seeing in his eyes that he’d never meant anything more in his life. It was a word you’d banished so long ago, and it was something that you were certain you could live without. Now that he was in front of you, saying it in the same sweet tone he always used, you could not imagine a life without hearing it every day. You had no idea why you were so afraid of it, or why you were so afraid of him. He was the whole world, and you knew that from the very beginning. His devilish charm and intoxicating attitude made it impossible not to love him, and you knew that any woman would jump at the chance to have him. You were the luckiest person to ever live, and you could not picture loving anybody else the way you loved him.

“I love you, Jake.” You whispered, softly and slowly, making sure he heard every syllable. He had been waiting so long to hear it that you could not deny him of it for one more second.

He barely had time to smile before his lips were back on yours, hungrier than the last. You slipped your hand to the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in the locks of his hair. It was different than any other kiss you shared before; it tasted like freedom and it was laced with the notion of letting go. For the first time since you met him, you felt like you could show all of yourself to him. There were no barriers, no doubt nor hesitations. It was just the two of you, enjoying loving each other without fear getting in the way. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever felt, and you never wanted to feel any other way.

Loving Jake was the best thing you had ever experienced, even with the turmoil that you had been through. The pain and the losses were just as important as the good moments and the happiness, because it all led you to where you sat in that moment. The hurt was worth it as long as it meant you could love him, and you would suffer through it all over again just to be able to be loved by him. As his hand slipped under your shirt, settling on the warm skin underneath, you knew that you would never be happier with someone else. He was what you wanted, and any doubt about it was obsolete now.

You could not hold back the moan that slipped into his mouth at the feeling of his hand on you again. The rough, calloused fingertips from his guitar playing felt like heaven against the smooth skin on your body. Now, with the proclamation of love still lingering in the air, every movement and touch was amplified by a million. Your body was on fire, and he barely even touched you. You weren’t sure if it was solely accredited to the vulnerability the two of you shared, or if it was because you’d spent so many days longing to be touched by him. No matter which it was, it did not matter. All that mattered was that he was there, and things were okay.

“Say it again, angel.” He muttered against your lips, still trying to catch his breath.

“I love you,” you breathed, pressing your lips back to his before the words could fully pass through your mouth. His grip on you tightened, ecstatic to hear the sound. “I love you so much.” You said again, unable to hold it back any longer. You wanted to scream your love for him from the highest rooftops, telling the whole world how much he meant to you, but you feared that it still would not be enough. His lips trailed from your lips down to your neck, settling on the sweet spot just below your ear. You let out a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue on your skin, your hands tightening on him as a silent show of enjoyment.

“We’re gonna have to do this differently now, beautiful.” His voice vibrated against you, making your eyes flutter closed at the light tickle that quickly spread.

“What do you mean?” You asked, still lost in the blissful nature of his touch.

“I can’t fuck you like a whore, anymore.” He said, snaking his hand up your shirt and landing it over your breast clothed only by the thin material of your bra. His thumb found your nipple through the fabric, feeling it harden under his touch. “I have to fuck you like I love you.”

“Can’t you fuck me like a whore anyway?” You challenged, not willing to give up the sex life you had already built with him. He chuckled at the disappointment in your tone, glancing up at you to catch your gaze.

“You like it better that way?” He raised an eyebrow. Your cheeks heated with a blush at the look in his eyes.

“Y-yes, sir.” You nodded.

“I tell you I love you and you behave yourself… maybe I should have said it a long time ago.” He related the two, smiling to himself as he thought about it. “How about I do both? Does that sound good to you, angel?”

“Sure, yeah.” You felt your lips upturn into a smile, happy with anything he was willing to give you.

“Glad we could come to that agreement.” He chuckled, giving your breast a gentle squeeze as he finished speaking. “Now, get in the bedroom and take your fucking clothes off. I’ve got time to make up for, and I don’t feel like waiting any longer.”

“Yes, sir.” You repeated your earlier statement, trying to ignore the ache that began between your legs. He dropped his hand from you, giving you a gentle nudge towards the bedroom. You followed his guidance, letting out a small yelp as his hand collided with your ass as you turned away. You shot him a look over your shoulder as you continued walking away, but he only responded with a wink.

You made quick progress with taking your clothes off, unashamed of your own excitement. You kicked them off to the side, peering out into the kitchen to see if he was following. When you didn’t see him or hear him walking to join you, you stepped towards the door, peeking just your head around it. You gazed out, finding your heart melt at the sight. He was peering through your cupboards, flowers in hand, in search of a vase to put them in. Eventually, he found a suitable holder for them, filling it with water and unwrapping the bouquet. He placed them inside, smiling at his own accomplishment, and turned towards your room.

He caught you staring, finding himself only slightly embarrassed at the thought. He gave you a smile as his cheeks tinged red. “What?” He asked, defending himself when there was no need to.

“Nothing,” you giggled, stepping out from the door frame so he could see you followed his instructions. He took in a sharp breath, surprised that you had been so obedient. Then, his eyes seemed to darken with lust as he got closer to you. “You’re just taking care of things out there like… oh, I don’t know, you love me or something?” He let out a scoff, rolling his eyes at your statement.

“Yeah, as if.” He teased, stepping towards you and scooping you into his arms with one swift motion. You let out a shriek of laughter, slinging your arms around his neck while you wrapped your legs around him. He found himself laughing at you, too. Your joy was infectious, and he wanted to soak up every minute of it. He pressed his lips to yours as he stepped towards the bed, breaking from the kiss for a moment to check over your shoulder and ensure there was nothing on the mattress. When he deduced that the coast was clear, he moved forward so his knees were touching the bed, then he dropped you down on the mattress without warning.

You let out a gasp of surprise as you landed with a thud, bouncing back up slightly from the impact. “What was that for?” Your lip formed into an unintentional pout, displeased with his actions, but he was too busy pulling his shirt over his head to notice.

“This is where the love part comes in.” He explained, chucking as he threw his shirt to the ground. “It’s not just about fucking you until you can’t walk; we get to have fun, too.”

“That wasn’t fun, I could’ve gotten hurt!” You exclaimed, but a smile was tugging at your lips. He unbuttoned his jeans, slipping out of them and kicking them to the side before looking back at you.

“Sweetheart, I would never do anything that would hurt you. You know that.” He scolded, playfulness still dancing in his eyes. He moved closer, climbing onto the bed and hovering atop of you for a moment. “Well, too bad, anyway.” He added, running his fingers over the lingering mark from his belt that was left from the weekend before. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize.” You assured him, the sting of the leather already long forgotten in your mind. “I deserved it.”

“You can be quite a brat,” he agreed, smiling down at you. The chain around his neck dangled in the air and his hair swooped down to frame his face. The sight of him was breathtaking, and you wished you could sear the picture in your mind forever.

“You bring out the worst in me.” You shrugged, distracted by the gleam of emotion in his eye. It was different than before, less animalistic and much more complex. It was love, and even though you did not recognize it yet, you would in the days to come, for it was dancing in your eyes, too.

“I don’t think that’s true, angel.” He argued, leaning down so his lips were hovering over your bare chest. He watched you take in a sharp breath, anticipating his next move with excitement. He placed a soft kiss to the top of your breastbone, slowly making his way downward with the same gentle nature. He brought one hand to your hardened nipple, letting the rough pad of his thumb drift across the sensitive nub. Your back arched upwards in reaction. The feeling was small, and the reaction was not because of the sensation, but rather because he was the one causing it.

He brought his mouth down to your breast, letting his tongue take over for his thumb. Your eyes fluttered closed as the familiar feeling of arousal blossomed in your belly. It was so easy for him to turn you into a mess, and sometimes you wondered if he knew the extent of the power he held over you. He suctioned his lips around the nipple, letting his tongue run over it a few times to let you enjoy the moment. Once you were comfortable and unsuspecting, he let his teeth sink into you ever so slightly. You jumped at the sensation, but he’d already moved on before you could voice a complaint.

He kissed a sloppy trail down to your navel, reveling in the noises that were falling from your lips. Eventually, he paused, looking back up at you through his lashes to soak in your needy expression. His mouth was hovering just over your heat, and the ache between your legs was growing harder to ignore. You needed him, and you did not know if you could wait any longer. “What’s wrong, beautiful?” He asked, the far away look in his eyes telling you how badly he needed to hear you tell him how much you wanted him.

“Need it so bad, Jake.” You squirmed underneath his gaze, finding it almost too powerful to hold. “It’s been so long.”

“You need me?” He purred, the corners of his lips upturned into a smirk. You watched as his eyes flickered from your face to your cunt, the temptation of seeing all of you too much to resist.

“I do, sir.” You pleaded, feeling the arousal begin to push you towards insanity. You could feel his breath on your skin, teasing you without even trying. His mouth was watering from the sight alone, but he wanted to savor the moment for as long as he could. “Please, baby.” You tried again, reaching down and caressing his cheek with your thumb. You thought that the sweetness might coerce him into giving in. The soft brown of his irises were gone, now, blackened with his lust-blown pupils. He wanted you just as bad, and the soft touch of your fingers was forcing him to remember how badly he missed you.

“Do you know how much I thought about this?” He asked, grabbing your hip with one of his hands. He pulled you down ever so slightly, his mouth practically touching you, now. “How badly I wanted to see you like this?”

“How bad, sir?” You played stupid; you knew how much he thought about you because you had thought about him just as much. You wanted to hear it, to know how desperate he was for you when he couldn’t have you.

“I thought about it every night,” he muttered, his eyes now focused on your cunt, clenching around nothing just from the memory of him being inside of you. “I thought about all of those slutty little noises, how pretty you looked with my cock in your mouth.” He listed, biting back a smirk as he noticed your cheeks redden at his words. “I was worried someone else was taking care of you and that pretty little cunt.” He continued, letting a trail of spit fall from his lips onto his fingers. “Did you get someone else to take care of you, sweetheart?”

“No, sir.” You let out a shaky breath, completely enthralled by his devilish charm. The filth he was speaking even seemed to draw you in. At that moment, Jake was the only thing in the world that mattered.

“No?” He asked, almost as if he didn’t believe you. “Couldn’t find anyone else who could do it right?” You let your head fall back on the mattress as you felt his fingers run through your folds. “Nobody else could fuck you like I can, right sweetheart?”

“No, Jake.” You agreed. “Nobody else could fuck me like you can.” He let out a hum of satisfaction at your words, letting his middle and index finger slip inside you as his thumb drifted over your aching clit.

“Why is that?” He questioned, beginning to move his fingers at a slow pace. You were too immersed in the feeling of pleasure he was giving you to notice he spoke again. “Why can nobody else make you feel this way, baby?”

“Because I’m yours, Jake.” You let the possessive claim slip without care. You were his, and you only ever wanted to be his. “Because I love you.” You said, adding on to the original comment.

“Cause you’re all mine, angel.” He agreed, smiling at the thought. He curled his fingers upwards ever so slightly, hitting the sensitive spot inside you he’d grown to know so well. You let out a soft moan, moving your hips down on his hand for more. You were so desperate that under any other circumstances, you would be shameful. Now, with Jake on top of you, you couldn't care less. He knew how badly you needed him whether you said it or not; there was no hiding from Jake, and you were okay with that. “And I love you, too.” A whimper fell from your lips at the sound of his voice saying such sweet words.

“Fuck,” you groaned, feeling your abdomen tense with pleasure. You were so close, and he’d barely even started.

“Already?” He asked, amazed at the thought.

“It’s been a while,” you huffed, still too lost in the euphoria to care. “It feels so fucking good, Jake.”

“Tell me how good it feels, baby. Wanna hear all about it.” He encouraged you as he leaned down, moving his thumb from your clit and replacing it with his tongue.

“Oh, god.” You tangled your hand in his hair, needing more than he could possibly give you. Your whole body was ablaze with sin, once again falling victim to his routine. You tried so hard to stay away, but the truth was, you didn’t want to stay away. He was too fantastic at everything he did, and his company was too pleasurable to deny. You were in lust by the first touch and in love by the first conversation. Jake was something otherworldly, and you knew that from the very beginning. His love outweighed every consequence that you could face in hell. The devil was between your legs, and you were too weak to resist him. He had made you a fool for his sin, but just now were you realizing the extent of the damage.

As his fingers curled inside you again, the prescision in which they moved was almost too much too soon. You bucked your hips upwards against him, feeling the pressure rapidly increase in your stomach. You were right on the edge, and he barely had to try. He hummed against you, showing his appreciation of your enjoyment. Your heart was pounding against your chest, trying to break free from your ribs as he continued his torment. He was evil, but you could not seem to care because the evil was within you, too.

“You taste so fucking good,” he said, pulling back for just a moment to catch his breath. His words resembled a growl more than anything, and his grip tightened on your hip as he pulled you down further towards him.

“It’s all for you, baby.” You sighed, still lost in the feeling of his fingers pumping into you. He withdrew a long breath, trying to keep himself calm at the thought. There was no better feeling in the world than having you all to himself, and he never wanted to take it for granted again. Knowing he nearly lost you was painful, and he would not allow himself to be foolish enough to let you slip through his fingers again.

He returned his mouth to you, suctioning his lips sound your clit and throwing you straight back into euphoria. You tensed at the feeling, your fingers tightening in his hair as his name fell from your lips. You were praying to him as if he was the god that would save you, but he was nothing holy nor was he any force that could liberate you. He was the evil coursing through your veins, forcing you into the sin and coercing you into believing that it was right. He was the only man in the world who could drive you to such pleasure, but having such power told you that he was the exact entity you thought he was the entire time. You loved him too much to walk away, but he was too wicked to survive. As he worked you up to an orgasm, he was sucking the life from you at the same time. He was the very thing that kept your heart beating, and the very thing that would eventually take it away.

You were too far gone to realize you were in the grave; the dirt seemed pillowy and soft, warm and inviting despite the frost nipping at your skin, begging to freeze you there for the rest of eternity. Falling in love with Jake was the most painful death sentence you had ever faced, but he had such a way with his heart that he made death itself seem enjoyable. You were slipping away, but dying at his hands was the most pleasurable experience of your entire life, like it had been the exact thing you were born to experience.

The blissful feeling was so intense that you could feel it pulsing under your skin and behind your eyes. Your stomach was in knots, begging you to let go, but you feared that you would not survive the downfall. His fingers and tongue worked in time with each other to keep you on the edge, nearly pushing you over with every move. You couldn’t contain the orgasm, and he knew how close you were. Seven days without him was torture, and you felt like you had been deprived of your life’s greatest joy. He could feel how close you were; he knew your body better than you knew it yourself. The shallow breathing and the constant trail of moans that were falling from your lips told him all he needed to know, and the clench of your cunt around him solidified the idea. He was desperate for it, and you could feel that in the prescision of his movements.

“Jake,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as your head dropped to the mattress. “M’gonna cum.” You warned. He gave your hip a gentle squeeze, but did not change up his movements. It was his way of giving you silent permission to do so. With a ragged breath and an insatiable burning in your chest, your legs began to tremble from the intensity of the pleasure. All of your muscles were tense and every nerve in your body felt like it was on fire. After seven days of suffering, all of the pain and suffering seemed to be disappearing from your body the longer he carried on.

His name fell from your lips, mixed with a slur of curses and moans. The obscenities painted the walls with your sin, dripping down and ensuring they would remain in the foundation of the home until the end of time. There was not a single thing in the room that was not tainted with the wicked energy the two of you were exuding. He held you to him, ensuring you could soak up every second of pleasure the climax had to offer. You felt like you were going mad; your mind was a mess with thoughts all pertaining to the boy nestled between your legs. You feared that the intensity would never pass, your limbs aching with the rigid nature of your muscles and your lungs desperate for air.

Eventually, when he began to taper off his movements, the sensation began to fade. You relaxed against the mattress, finally able to fill your lungs with oxygen. When he pulled away from you completely, you were too dazed to notice the loss of contact. Your eyes were closed, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch up with the breaths you were deprived of momentarily. Your legs continued to tremble with the ghost of your orgasm and your stomach was still twisted into knots of pleasure. He did not move from his position, but instead got on his knees rather than laying on his stomach. His eyes were heavy with lust, crazed by the state you were in. He thought there was no way he’d be able to forget the way you looked when you were fucked out and drunk off him. It was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

Before you even came back to reality, he was lining himself up with your entrance. He guided your legs around him with little help from you, bracing his arm on the bed just beside your head. “You’re not giving up on me yet, are you angel?” He rasped, even his voice husky with the desire he was feeling for you. You managed to crack your eyes open at the sound of his voice, the sound too beautiful to ignore.

“I’m okay,” you promised, now focused on the feeling of his cock resting against you. The idea of fucking him was enough to give you the energy to continue on. “I promise.” You said, reaching up to touch his face. The feeling caused his eyes to flutter closed and a smile to blossom on his lips.

“That’s my girl.” He crooned, savouring the sensation only for a second before he was pushing himself inside of you. As much as he wished to live in the moment forever, he could not wait any longer. You both let out a hiss of relief, already needing more than you could have. “You always feel so fucking good.” He groaned, beginning at a slow pace. As much as he teased you for being so close so soon, he felt just the same. Seven days for him felt like an eternity without you, and he never wanted to experience it again. His hips moved slowly, but powerfully. The angle he had your hips settled at allowed him to reach a depth that made your head spin.

“J-just want to make you feel good, sir.” You whined, the sensitivity making his movements feel all the more enjoyable. His eyes darkened further at your words, the obedience driving him crazy. He’d never heard you be so submissive, and he wasn’t shy about his new found love for it. Not once had he gotten you into bed and did not hear a single argument or snide comment, but despite his love for the obedience, he couldn’t help but miss the sharp tongue you so often could not keep a hold of. He loved you for all of you, even your naturally argumentative self and your tendency to talk back. He was in love with everything you had to offer, and he knew that he always would be.

To make the devil fall in love is a daunting task, but within a few weeks, you had made yourself an expert in doing so.

“Yeah? You like being a little whore for me?” He asked, adding a little more power behind his thrusts. His cock brushed against your cervix, causing you to wince at the painful type of pleasure that shot through you. “You like it when I use you for whatever I want?”

“God, yes.” You muttered, looking up to meet his eyes. The sexual tension between you was so strong that it was hard to think of anything else, but there was something deeper, now. Connection, understanding, and love. The two of you had overcome the only barrier that had ever held you back. Fear was obsolete, replaced with the desire to know and to care. It was freeing, and the world seemed full of endless possibilities, now. You could not believe you had let the anxieties hold you back from something so wonderful and so fulfilling.

Then again, you knew that beneath the elation of your realizations, Jake was the one behind it all. The fear would never have left had he not been the one who you fell for. The risk would not be worth it if it were someone else between your legs, staring down at you with such admiration. Love was not worth it unless he was the one on the recieving end, nor would it be worth it if someone else were trying to give it to you. You knew that all you feared would be kept safe, locked up in his heart for eternity the same as it was in your own. He would keep every secret, every promise, and every failure safe. He would protect it as if his life depended on it, because he did not want anyone else to know all that he knew about you. He did not want anyone else to have the chance to have you like he did, and he did not want you to think that he was not the person he made you believe he was.

Your trust was the most important to him, and your love came second to that. He wanted you to depend on him, to let him in when the days seemed dark and dreary. He wanted you to share every tear and pain that you felt in your body, and he wanted you to share every failure and mistake. He wanted the goodness, but he wanted all of the bad, too. He loved you not just for your triumphs and successes, but also for your darkest moments. He wanted to be the person you could pour your heart into, no matter if it was happiness or sadness. He wanted you in your entirety, and he would love you through every single moment of your life, and even long beyond that.

The two of you went in search of sex, something to fill the void that was steadily growing in your hearts. You wanted casual without commitment, because neither of you yearned to bear your souls to another. Your sadness, your heartbreaks and your hurt had turned you cold, and made it so you wanted to keep everyone locked out. Intimacy in the emotional aspect scared the both of you beyond comprehension, yet in your search to find something to satiate the isolation, you had found so much more. In each other, you discovered all that you feared yet all that you needed all in the same place. You were terrified of love, yet craved it so badly it made your chest ache and your head spin. You were full of mistrust, yet desperate to find someone you could share your life with without fear.

It was not your job to seek love, but it had always been your duty to break down all of the barriers that prohibited it from entering your lives. In the three months of knowing each other, you did not intend or purposely search for love within each other, but you did break down every wall and defense you had built up prior to meeting each other. Because of that, love flowed in easily and endlessly, and the two of you were able to do the very thing you swore you would never do again.

Within each other, you found home. You found a hiding place, somewhere to rest and put down the burden of life for a while. You found friendship, connection, and purpose. You found a way to conquer your biggest fears and push your own boundaries enough to allow another inside.

In Jake, you had found everything you ever needed.

In you, he found everything he ever dreamed of.

Somewhere in the universe, the divine had found a way to forgive you for the wrongdoing and allow you a moment of peace. But, evil does not rest even when it seems like it has. Beneath the surface, the wicked forces were still working overtime to turn you rotten to the core. You had engaged in so much sin that your entire life was encrypted with it. Satan himself would draw back in fear if he looked into your eyes, yet the two of you were so blissfully ignorant to the fact that you felt as though you had repented enough to free yourself from the darkness.

“Come here, angel.” He said, pulling out of you for a moment. There it was again; the heavenly connotation to a woman so evil her own skin turned red.

He collapsed on the bed beside you, reaching out and pulling you on top of him. You were so distraught with the loss of contact that you let out an audible whine, but you did not have to suffer for too long. He guided your legs on either side of him, helping you position yourself so you could continue fucking. You planted your hand firmly on his chest, holding yourself up as he lined himself up with your entrance. His hands landed on your hips, his warm touch searing your cool skin. Without warning, he pulled you down on him with a strength that made your head spin. You let out a moan, telling him how good it felt when he filled you up in such a way.

“That’s better, sweetheart.” He muttered, helping you move your hips to maintain a steady rhythm. Once you were able to keep up the pace yourself, he removed one hand from you and brought it to your clit. He let his finger begin slow circles, encouraging you silently as you rode both of you into an orgasm. “Does that feel good?”

“Feels so good, sir.” You panted, grinding your hips downwards onto him. His jaw was tense, his teeth clenched tightly as he focused on the way your body was moving on him. First, he admired your face. The twisted expression of pleasure was enough to send him into a climax, but he managed to hold himself back, wanting to enjoy you for just a little while longer. Your lips were parted slightly as obscenities fell from your tongue, dripping down onto him and drowning him in the sinful sounds. His gaze trailed down your neck, taking in every available inch of exposed skin. He studied the way the columns of your neck flowed down into your collarbones, and all the way down to your breasts which were bouncing with every movement of your body. He wanted you to be in the position solely so he could admire you without any obstruction of view.

His eyes trailed down your stomach, watching your muscles tense with the pleasure that you were feeling. He looked down at his hand anchored around your hip, his fingers digging into the skin with a promise to leave finger-shaped bruised by the morning. He could not deny the feeling of euphoria at the thought of your body being marked with memories of him for days to come. Eventually, his gaze landed on your cunt, where his hand was delicately coaxing an orgasm and your hips were jointed with his, the two of you intertwined in the most intimate and intoxicating way.

You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he could not hold the thought to himself. If he had to hide it, he thought he might die from the pressure of the notion pulsing against his skull.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He said, the words almost caught in his throat as he tried to speak them. The emotion in the room was heavy, weighing both of you down and inevitably pushing you even closer together. “I love you, y/n.” The profound nature of his words made your head spin and your heart skip a beat. You looked down, catching his eyes and seeing the sincerity pooling in his gaze.

“I love you, Jake.” You whispered, your hips stuttered as you spoke. You felt locked in, like your eyes could not look away from him even if your life depended on it. “I love you so much.” You repeated, the words freeing and lifting tons of weight from your shoulders. You were so happy to finally be able to say it, and now you never wanted to stop. You wanted to tell every person you stumbled across how fantastic he was and how much he meant to you, but a smaller, more selfish part of you wanted to keep him to yourself forever. He was yours and only yours, and you were the only one in the world lucky enough to have him.

“Cum for me, angel.” He said, his voice low and dripping with desire. He gave you the permission not because he was planning on denying you the pleasure, but because he feared he might die if you did not. He needed you like the starving need food, and he could not keep up with the demands of his heart. He needed everything from you all at once, and he needed it so much that he could not even think about anything else.

With his permission, you felt another wave of euphoria wash over you. This time, it was so intense that it felt like your whole body locked in reaction to it. You managed his name through the cries of pleasure, but it was barely noticeable. The only reason he picked up on it was because he spent every waking minute waiting for you to speak his name.

“That’s it, baby.” He said, gently guiding your lower half down towards him, still circling his finger around your clit. “Being such a good girl for me.” He hummed, pulling you into a kiss as soon as you were close enough to do so. You rode out your high with your lips locked with his, letting every moan fall into his mouth. He drank up the sound, each one pushing him closer to his own climax. When you relaxed against him, he slowly removed his hand from your cunt, bringing both hands to your hips to hold you in place. You were exhausted, and he could clearly see that. He decided not to push you, instead keeping you close to him and pulling your bottom lip between his teeth while he allowed you to calm down.

When your chest returned to the steady rise-and-fall rhythm, he started his own pace again. He held your hips in place, continuing the kiss as he fucked into you, working himself back up to his own orgasm. The sensation was intense, almost overwhelming as you tried to bargain with your own sensitivity from both orgasms. His pace was bruising, like always, but it was still intoxicating. You felt your stomach burn with pleasure once again, unbelieving of how fast you could feel the pressure of another orgasm begin to build. You had to break away from the kiss to catch your breath, the feeling becoming too much to bear. You couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of him inside you and the way he filled you up so perfectly.

“Again?” He asked, a cocky smirk on his lips as he tried to play down his own pleasures.

“A-ah, fuck, shut up!” You hissed, stumbling over your own words. He let out a low chuckle at your response, unbothered by your harsh tone.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I know how good I make you feel.” He said, tone dripping with pride. His ego took up space in the room even when you were fucking, and you hated to admit that you loved it. He continued on his pace, now pulling you down on him with every move of his hips. It was painful, but it was addicting. You wanted more, but you feared your body would not be able to handle it. A particularly high-pitched moan let him know that you were already there once again. His head fell back on the mattress, absolutely amazed by how attracted he was to you and how badly he affected you. “That’s it,” he encouraged “look at you.” He whispered to himself, his eyes burning into your face. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.”

The compliment sent you over the edge for the third time, the sweet words too much for you to handle. You clenched around him, pulling him in even further as you unravelled. Your hand moved upwards grasping at his shoulder, holding yourself upright as he continued fucking into you. The pleasure was so plentiful that it quickly became the only thing you could think of; nothing else mattered other than him and the way he made you feel.

Jake was not far behind you, his movements becoming sloppy and moans falling steadily from his own lips. You thought he was ridiculous for believing you were the best thing the world had to offer, especially considering he got to wake up and look at himself in the mirror every morning. Jake was the most beautiful thing to ever walk the earth, and he was the most precious gift you’d ever had the chance to receive. His grip on you tightened as he pulled you down on him, holding you to him as he spilled his release into you. He muttered your name amidst the chaos, almost like it was the only thing he knew how to speak.

Instead of pulling out, he rested inside of you for a moment, pulling your top half down closer so he could wrap his arms around you. You rested your cheek against his chest, closing your eyes in bliss as you soaked up the intimacy you had missed so much. His hand traced shapes into your back, the delicate touch sending shivers down your spine and causing goosebumps to scatter across your skin. You ran your fingers through his hair, twisted the ends of the locks between your fingers as you listened to the soft thud of his heartbeat against his chest.

Love was filling the room, and this time, you both allowed yourselves to feel it. You welcomed it with open arms, inviting it in with a smile. It was in every touch and every breath, living in every word and shared glance. In that moment, life could not have been better. He moved his head down, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. He let his lips linger there for a moment, closing his eyes as he thanked every higher power for allowing you to enter his life.

“I love you.” He muttered, the words coming out muffled due to his mouth still resting on your head. You smiled, the kind that made your cheeks hurt and your mind forget what it felt like to frown.

“I love you.” You said, placing a kiss to his chest.

“You want to get cleaned up?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you sighed, nodding against him. “Then we can go to bed.” His chest burned with excitement at the thought of falling asleep next to you again, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

Carefully, he withdrew from you and you both stood. He stayed close to you as you walked to the bathroom, fearful that if you got too far away, he’d lose you forever. You made quick work and cleaning yourselves off, both eager to get into bed and hold each other until you fell asleep. As you walked back to your bedroom, he stopped and grabbed his bag he left in the kitchen, bringing it back with him. You grabbed one of his shirts from your drawer and threw it over your head. He slipped his boxers back on and waited for you to get into bed before joining you.

When you were both under the covers, he wasted little time turning on his side and pulling you closer to him. He settled his arm around your waist as you pressed your back against his chest. “Thank you for coming back, Jake.” You whispered, sleepiness laced in your tone.

“Are you kidding me?” He scoffed, also speaking quietly. “I want going to let you get away that easily.” You giggled at his words, snuggling in even closer. He tightened his arm around you, pulling you further into him.

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” You said, more specific than the last time. He didn’t respond straight away, instead nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck.

“I will fight for you until my very last breath, sweetheart.” He said, simply and seriously. He meant every word, and he did not want you to believe otherwise. “I love you, beautiful.”

“I love you, Jake.” You smiled to yourself as you closed your eyes, sleep calling to you and quickly taking over. In your last conscious moment, you felt the warmth of his love surrounding you, but a familiar dread settled in your stomach. You loved him, and he loved you, but was it really going to be so easy? After struggling to give yourselves to each other, you had a hard time believing that the rest of your life could be so simple. More than that, you still feared the sins the two of you committed just to be together in that moment. Jake was the love of your life, and that was without a doubt. What did worry you was all of the other conclusions you had drawn about him, specifically in regards to his devilish nature.

Was a mortal man laying beside you, or had you invited Satan himself into your home until the end of time?

According to Wikipedia, ‘the seven deadly sins, also known as the capital vices or cardinal sins, is a grouping and classification of vices within Christian, particularly Catholic, teachings. According to the standard list, they are pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and sloth, which are contrary to the seven heavenly virtues.’ The seven deadly sins you had committed with ease and little regret. You fell into the trap without even realizing it, and from there, you could not stop the rapid progression of your godless acts. You had sinned so much that you had forgotten what a virtue was, but more than that, the seven deadliest sins held no weight compared to the sin that only you had been indulging in.

The world did not know about the most sacrilegious of sins because he was in your bed with his arm draped around you, sleeping soundly. You were the only person in the world who knew the extent of his evil. He was more powerful than lust, and more intense than greed. He was greener than envy and he was more vicious than wrath. Jake Kiszka was the eighth, undiscovered, most deadly sin of all. He was all of the vices combined, and more so, the only force in the world that could be strong enough to make you commit all of them in one go. He was the embodiment of evil, thus leaving no other way to describe him; he was the devil, and instead of fearing him, you felt lucky to be in his presence.

You had sinned so much that somewhere along your wicked warpath, you’d sprouted devil horns of your own. His power did not scare you, because you held the same one within your heart. The only match for him was you, and the two of you were tied together with barbed wire and chains, now. When you moved too fast, the ache from the tension spread to your bones, but his kiss satiated the pain. Most of the time, his love was so good that you did not feel the restraints around you at all.

So seven became eight, and the sin had finally come to an end. Yours and Jake’s souls were intertwined infinitely, tainted with the blackness of evil and scorching with the heat of flames. You had reached your deadly end, and you had always feared that once the devil had made home, there was no escaping him. Now, the devil was for certain to stay, and you knew deep in your heart that no amount of repent would rid you from the damage you caused and the guilt that came with it. As you fell asleep wrapped up in him, you thanked god for bringing him back to you whilst knowing he was the very thing god was trying to strike down.

A fear settled deep in the pit of your stomach, wondering if soon, god would realize your mistakes and make his first attempt at striking you down, too.

TAGLIST: @sacredjake @profitofthedune @thewritingbeforesunrise @sacredthethreadgvf @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @freefallthoughts @jaketlove @clairesjointshurt @ageofbajabule @dannys-dream @earthgrlsreasy @starshine-gvf @brujamagik @gvfmarge @ignite-my-fire @twistedmelodies @gretavangroupie @alwaysonthemend @edgingthedarkness @gvfpal @sinarainbows @writingcold @starcatcher-jake @literal-dead-leaf @takenbythemadness @gretasfallingsky @hsfallingsky @freyjalw @itsafullmoon @lyndz2names @blacksoul-27 @i-love-gvf @vikingsisthenewsexy @mp0801 @mindastreamofcolours @indigogvf @sparrowofthedawnsworld @jordie-gvf @cassy-face @highway-tuna @creadliz98 @dancingcarbon @do-it-jakey-baby @lallisonl

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chimivx · 1 year

Text

public occurrences. // myg.

pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Female!Reader

summary: It's been almost a year since Vegas. As one would expect, life hasn't gotten any easier. If anything it's gotten even more chaotic. The world knows who you are now... There aren't anymore secrets to hide.

words: 6k

warnings: SLIGHT SPOILERS IN THE WARNINGS. use of cuss words, they talk of anxiety, some mental health situations, talks about a miscarriage, talks about Jin and other members leaving. other than that- not much else. If I missed anything PLEASE let me know.

a/n: CAN'T BELIEVE ANOTHER VEGAS IS HERE. Enjoy my loves. Thank you for all the love and support always. <3 It's just a short little drabble of one specific moment of time, but I thought it was pretty important.

~ the end of february 2023 ~

A dull pain begins to erupt where you’ve had your jaw clenched for the last twenty minutes. A soreness in your jaw you’re not quite sure will ever be able to go away. For the past few months it’s found itself in this compromised position.

Your entire body is made of steel, your joints creaking as you attempt to pull yourself together amidst the panic ensuing within your nervous system. Limbs heavy to the point you aren’t sure whether or not you’ll be able to exit the vehicle.

Breathe in, breathe out. The words repeat.

Breath in, breathe out. It made you want to sing Hobi’s song. Inhale, inhale, exhale, exhaaale. But there was no time for fun. Not when you were about to walk outside in front of cameras for the first time in eight years.

The morning was spent in a blur, the attempts to perfect your hair and makeup happening at an hour too early, much like how you rolled out of bed. An hour too early. You were awake before your daughter even had the chance to stir.

Anxiety had been simmering beneath your skin for weeks. You could barely eat, the nausea would rip through you violently. Again, for the past few months that’s how life has been, nausea, anxiety, melancholy thoughts and dreams, however this event seemed to be adding twice as much. These past few days you’ve probably accumulated a total of nine hours of sleep. You had more shuteye the week after your daughter's birth.

There seemed to be a butterfly effect from the events in Vegas. The incident that caused countless meetings and endless discussions because the company just couldn’t handle anymore media control or protection. You should never have trusted that girl.

BigHit took their time, the company drug out the announcement as long as they could so it would surpass Jin’s deployment and your goddamn wedding. Now, with it being the end of February, Yoongi’s been traveling absolutely everywhere for basketball games, photoshoots, and he’s announced a tour… It was about to happen. For the very first time in eight years you were officially about to be on camera, branded by flashes, posted online permanently, forever going to be seen and known as Min Yoongi’s wife.

Next to you, Yoongi grips your knee tight, in hopes to settle your worries. Glancing down to his knobby hand you sigh and suck in a deep breath.

“We’ll be fine,” he said softly. Meeting his comforting gaze, you attempt to smile, one that makes him laugh. “I promise. Remember everything we talked about?”

You do. Of course you do. It’s been playing on repeat for one hundred and sixty eight hours.

That’s how many hours are in a week. You had to google that.

When this entire plan was set in place you requested a play by play, a step by step tutorial- a rehearsal even! You were walking out into the public eye with your child for the first time. People knew who you were now.

There were going to be cameras, and fans, and paparazzi, and loud noises, and people rushing you, and standards to follow. It was all too much, it all seemed to be entirely too much. You were going to have a toddler on your hip, one who could barely stand to be in a room full of people her father worked with let alone god knows how many strangers at an airport.

“What happens first?” Yoongi asked, reaching for one of your hands to tangle his fingers with yours. He could feel your panic. “Tell me the first thing we’re going to do.”

Gulping, you respond, “Park.” Looking up at his short hair that you’re livid with- his long hair was dreamy, and sexy, and you could pull it- you receive another laugh. He hadn’t expected you to be so literal.

“Good, we’ll park,” he praised. “And then what?” Tipping his chin down his eyes widened a bit, becoming all the more endearing.

“Then, Branson and his team get out,” you said, feeling a bit better looking into his eyes. Yoongi gives you a soft smile, dragging his thumb over the back of your hand.

“Has Branson ever let you down?”

“Never,” you whispered. Almost nine incident free years with the man, after Yoongi, you depended on.

Your husband leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Exactly,” he said. “What happens next?”

Going through the last three simple steps, everything seemed ready to go to plan. Once Branson was ready, you were going to take your daughter out of her carseat, exit the car, and follow the men inside. You would be the one to carry your daughter, just in case. People were unpredictable in these situations, and Yoongi agreed that if something were to happen to him here, you should be the one to carry her inside. As much as that little comment terrified you to hear him say, he was right.

Simple as pie. You hoped.

In a perfect world that’s how it would happen, and you want nothing more than for this to go smoothly.

People knew your name. Everyone has found out that it’s been years. The company was prepared for mass destruction, and so were you and Yoongi. A first public appearance, this is where it would all go to shit. There isn’t much chaos people can fully ensue over the internet.

As for your friends, the two of you personally asked them to stay out of it and at the drop of a hat they agreed. The five boys and Sunny shook on it. No one would say a word publicly, no one would do any interviews, no tweets, no Instagram posts, no stories pushed, no Weverse comments. Silence. Radio silence.

Jin has most definitely heard what has happened, and the next time you and Yoongi get to see him, there will be tea to spill. Your heart aches whenever you think about him, especially for Yoongi. He’s had to go through this madness and so much more without his best friend.

The week after he left was complete and utter hell for your family. And not just because of Jin.

Pushing aside all thoughts of having to redo the motions with Hobi very soon, you come to realize that steps one and two of the plan have already commenced.

The black SUV was parked in front of the airport, and Branson and his team were setting themselves up. Through the dark tinted windows there are crowds upon crowds of people, masses of them so large one would think the entire band was here. It reminded you of a concert, they were all waiting in groups with their phones out, pointing them at the vehicles that you and your team were in.

Slapping your hand on top of Yoongi's, you grip it tight, digging your nails into his palm. He places his other right on top of yours.

“I can’t do it,” you mumbled, whipping your head to shoot him a terrified look.

Yoongi smiles, though your fear threatens to crack him. If this wasn’t ordered by the company he’d whisk you away to safety, getting inside the airport without a soul knowing. He’s broken these rules before, going against what his company wants for your sake, it’s been eight years of you coming first, you topping all things that have to do with his job.

Now that the gig was up, now that people knew who you were and knew that it’s been forever, he feels as though he owes it to his fans to do a three minute appearance. As much as he was deeply in love with you, he loved his fans almost as much. He wanted to show you off, he wanted the world to see who’s been keeping him sane all this time, who’s been the source of his happiness for years.

“Yanno, the last time you told me that you seemed to handle everything just fine,” he said, glancing at your sleeping daughter beside you. Blowing a gust of air through your lips, you roll your eyes.

“I didn’t have to do any work, D, they cut her out of me,” you grilled back, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t-” your words are cut off by a sudden short breath. “I feel like I can’t breathe,” escapes you in a whisper.

Branson taps his fist on the window a couple of times gently, signaling that he was ready for the three of you to come out. The murmurs from the crowds can be heard, leaking through the cracks in the doors, swarming around you constricting your chest.

Yoongi slips an arm around your back, holding you against him tight. Burying your face into his chest, he rests his chin on top of your head and takes a deep breath. You can feel his beating heart steady between his lungs. This was just another day for him. He’s had ten years to grow used to this.

“I was afraid this was going to happen,” he said softly. Peeking up at him, you frown.

“What?” you question, lowering your brows. He nods a couple of times, giving you a small smile.

“I was afraid this was going to happen, because I knew this was going to happen,” he said.

“Me freaking out, right?” you sighed, your tone completely breathless. A soft hum leaves his chest as he ponders what you’ve said, then he shakes his head. “What?” you question again with more vigor.

“Well,” he huffs a gentle laugh, “I figured something along the lines of that would happen, but only ‘cause of her,” he nods to your daughter, “Not because you’re scared of going out there. You’re only worried for her. If it were seven years ago you think you’d feel this way?”

Shaking your head to answer him, the electricity coursing through your veins seems to subside.

“Exactly,” he smirked. “Before her you were dancing in the streets before my shows, you were talking to people, my fans! You were prancing around stadiums and concerts like it was nothing.”

“I loved doing that,” you smiled.

“Fuck yeah, you loved doing that,” he said, giving you the smallest shake. “And, you know what? It’s not just you going out there as my wife, right? They know what you’ve done for us, they know what you’ve made for us.”

Your smile starts to grow. He was right. The fans, the people, they loved your work. The music videos, the art, the TinyTan, the creative concepts, the photoshoots, all of it. They finally knew that it was you. The ghost creator had been unveiled.

“You probably have fans of your own,” Yoongi said matter of factly. “I guarantee you all these people are here for you, not me.” Frowning humorously, you make him laugh.

“Doubt that,” you said flatly.

“Alright, half and half,” he winked, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “We can do this, you can do this. We’re doing it together, like we do everything. We’ll get through this together. We always do. Just think, next time we see Jin we have to tell him all about this, he’ll never believe it.”

Averting your eyes from his, your mind is suffocated by the many, many things you’re going to have to tell Jin when you’re with him again, which you’re hoping is soon. So much has happened, so much has changed, and it’d only been about three months.

“Yeah,” you whispered, flickering your eyes up to Yoongi who’s flashing you a curious look. “He probably still thinks I’m pregnant.”

A flash of discomfort wrecks his expression for all of two seconds as he glances away from you with a breath. Swallowing hard, he relaxes his face and looks back at you, his lips pressed together tight.

“He, uh,” he began in a whisper, “He... knows.” Before you have a chance to say anything, the subtle shock on your face telling him plenty, he cuts you off. “I’m sorry, baby. I had to tell him, it’s Jin, that’s my best friend, he’s the only one I could even say the words to.”

Sitting up a bit, you reach a hand up to cup his cheek, dragging your thumb over his smooth skin. “D, it’s okay,” you reassured him, bobbing your head. His lips form a pout, one that gets you to giggle. “I promise, it’s okay.”

There’s a moment of quiet between the two of you, feelings swirling around the empty air as you both choose what to do or say next. Yoongi leans into you, kissing your forehead once more before placing his own there.

“You’re so incredible,” he said, watching you flutter your eyes shut. “The strongest woman I know, the most talented woman I know. On top of having such a beautiful, creative mind, you’re a fucking fantastic mother.” Yoongi pauses, taking a deep breath, as do you. “He was lucky to have you for as long as he did.”

A lump lodges in your throat. Scrunching your face, you shake your head, rubbing your forehead to his.

“Don’t make me cry,” you said, voice wavering with uncertainty.

“Cry?” a tiny voice speaks up from your right, a yawn of the same intensity coming out of her straight after. Popping your eyes open you share a small smile with your husband, and just as you’re about to turn to your little one, Yoongi slips a hand beneath your chin, holding you in place.

“Hey,” his voice is soothing. “I love you.” Your heart flutters.

“I love you, too,” you whispered, accepting the quick kiss he gives you.

Turning to the carseat that has secured a permanent spot in this car, you smile at your daughter who has her head turned toward you and her father. Her sleepy eyes entice a happy hum from you.

“You were supposed to sleep through this,” you said sarcastically sweet. Yoongi chuckles, unbuckling from his seat. The clang of the metal on the door makes your heart skip a beat.

“No,” your daughter said. “No sleep. All done.” Her voice is tiny, and slightly broken, and not hitting all of the right sounds, but her speech has only been improving. The two of you speak to her like she’s a human being, saving the baby voices for when she’s feeling silly, which can attest to her strong vocabulary and understanding of conversation.

You’re beginning to think she is a genius like her father.

“Mama, up,” she cooed, reaching out her arms that were finally starting to get a little chubby. Her cheeks had caught up to her as well, they were finally perfectly pinchable.

Freeing her from the car seats restraints, your daughter aids you in her escape, launching herself forward and up into your arms with a shout.

“Oh!” she giggles once her arms are around your neck and her face is buried in your hair.

“Oh!” you and Yoongi copy her, to which she responds with another shout.

Her attentive eyes point out the window when she sits herself up, tapping on your shoulder a couple of times with her palm. Lifting a hand, she tries to point at the crowds of people.

“Where?” she asked curiously, looking to either of her parents for an answer. Her voice turned you into a complete puddle, the sound coming out as ‘Wheh?’, the middle syllable is even more pronounced when she questions the two of you again.

Yoongi brings a hand to her forehead, brushing away a few dark hairs that fell into her eyes. The girl hated bows, you stopped trying.

“We’re at the airport,” he told her, and she listened with all of her might. “We’re going on a plane, isn’t that fun? You like flying.” Her eyes blink a few times, taking her time to process the words.

Sighing aloud, dramatically of course, she glances out the window and mumbles a jumble of sounds. Following her gaze, you gulp.

Eager eyes of bystanders attempted to shatter the glass of the tinted windows.

“Mama,” your daughter said, looking at you. “Go, Mama,” she bounced once. “Go,” she bounced twice. You knew the moment you stepped out into the noise and the flashing lights that she would have a meltdown, but you admired her desire to get out of the car. Yoongi was right, she loved flying, it was her second favorite thing right now. Securely at number one was Jungkook, for a year and seven months. That spot was unattainable for anyone else.

“Shall we?” Yoongi offered, watching you fiercely, letting you take the lead. He waited patiently for your answer, heaving a sigh of relief when you finally gave him a tentative nod of your head.

“Dada, go,” your daughter babbled. “Mama, go. Dada, go. Mama, go.”

Sharing a laugh with Yoongi, you take a long deep breath and tighten your grip around her back, holding her in front of your chest. Smiling at you, your baby touched a hand to your cheek.

“I love you,” you whispered to her. She leans her head toward you and puts her nose on yours.

“Ah-luh-oo,” she tried her best to repeat. Stealing a kiss from her, you let Yoongi press a thousand to her cheek to make her giggle, and then it’s time.

Everything seems to move in slow motion, your vision tunneling as your husband opens the car door. Pulling a mask over his face, he sends you a reassuring wink before he rounds the vehicle.

Screams erupt from every corner of the space, and shouting from the team can already be heard. Strict shouting, like things were getting crazy already. Your daughter’s eyes are wide as she looks out the windows and up at you. Her curiosity has been swapped for a little bit of fear.

You couldn’t let her see you panic.

Sliding off of the leather seat and onto the concrete of the airport lot, you pull a mask over your own face and instantly slip a hand to the back of your baby's head. Her legs were wrapped around your torso, and the moment you stepped outside her arms clung around your neck for safety. You already had a suspicion that you weren’t going to have to actively try to hide her face, she would want to do that herself.

Your bags were already taken care of, there wasn’t anything else you needed to grab from the car other than your child and yourself. Everything else would be taken care of for you.

With another deep, dramatic breath, you hold your daughter close, allowing her to bury her face into your neck, and you circle the car like Yoongi had. Upon rounding the back, cameras that were already flashing began to flash faster, quicker. Wide eyed and stunned by the greeting of screams, you barely have time to process anything before Branson grabs your arm.

It’s a gentle tug, one to help keep you on track. He pulls you close to him, staying one step ahead of you as you wait for a couple of seconds in front of the car. Glancing amongst the crowd, it’s mainly full of paparazzi and probably some journalists. Behind the tall men and their cameras you can see the fans, the ones holding up their phones and jumping up and down trying to catch a glimpse at the commotion.

Airport security guards held some people back, though no one seemed to be trying to push through excessively, which was your main fear.

“Another minute here,” Branson said to you, leaning into your ear. “They need photos, then we go.” Nodding, you peek down at your girl who was content clinging to her mother and hiding from the chaos. A sound of admiration rips through the crowd as you stroke her back, one that surprises you.

Up ahead, close to the doors, Yoongi was walking backward slowly, watching you. His fans twisted their heads side to side, from him, to you, and back again. To spice things up a bit, he gives you a wave, and everyone goes nuts.

You can’t help but laugh at him, eyes crinkling at the sides. For some reason you had thought he’d treat you differently when you were outside, but aside from following the rules, he was still your husband. He points to the baby on your chest and questions you with a thumbs up. Another giant ‘Awh!’ rolls through the chattering crowd.

Sending a thumbs up back, the fans laugh, and cheer. Then, your heart plummets to your stomach.

From somewhere within the crowd your name is shouted. And then again. Before you knew it, the entire crowd wanted your attention. Overwhelmed, feeling utterly insane, your eyes well up with tears. You're unable to make out anything else they’re saying though, there were too many people talking at once, and to you, that was a good thing.

God forbid anybody had anything bad to say. You’ve heard it before, but you don’t need to live it in real time.

“Holy shit,” you mumbled. Branson leans into you again, questioning what you’ve said. Turning to him, you smile and repeat, “Holy shit!”

“You’re okay?” he asked, gently putting a hand over your shoulder blade.

“I- I think so?” you said to him, raising your voice over the crowd that was only getting louder. Glancing down to your daughter who’s little fists were attempting to rip holes in your sweater, you send a look to Yoongi, and he stops walking all together. Bundled up in the safety of her mothers arms wasn’t enough for the baby, she needed to be out of this situation immediately. “Branson we have to go.”

“I don’t have the signal yet, we need Yoongi inside before we move forward,” he said. Frowning, you knew the man was just doing his job, but a cry from your daughter flipped a switch within you.

“We need to go,” you insisted, shooting him a glare. Cradling the back of her head, you press your masked lips to her hair and take a deep breath, hoping she’d feel as much of your love as possible.

“Go! Get him inside,” Branson spoke into the tiny walkie he carried on his chest, gesturing toward the door with persistence.

The crowd, now roaring, and growing larger, began to push. The barriers that were blocked by guards were spilling over the edge.

Branson placed a hand to the top of your shoulder and held onto you tight. Grabbing the little speaker, he spoke clearer. “We need to move forward, and we cannot do that if you cannot get him indoors.”

Up ahead your husband was watching you with a heated gaze. His attention didn’t deter from you once. His heart twisted when you cradled your daughter, when he saw Branson begin to get defensive. The hand that was placed protectively on your shoulder could make him scream, and the team behind him, calling after him to get him to step inside the airport made his thoughts fuzzy.

What the hell was he doing? Why would he ever allow the two of you, the most important people in his life, why would he allow you to do it alone? This was the very first time you’ve done this, and he’s realized now that he’s made the biggest mistake.

Forgetting everything he was told, everything he’s learned, Yoongi bounds toward you, using the fast paced walk that his fans clown him for. They absolutely lose their minds, the people around you.

Wide eyed and shocked, you’d never think he’d break the rules on this one, you sigh in relief when he reaches your side. An arm wraps around your shoulder, Yoongi closing you in front of his chest.

“What are you doing?” you asked, giving your head a small shake.

Your husband smiles, reaching up to pull his mask off of his face, removing yours as well.

“Not letting you do it alone,” he said to you, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips. As you could’ve guessed, the collective lost their minds.

“You’re gonna get in trouble,” you smiled up at him, laughing as he dramatically rolled his eyes.

“You two are always worth it,” he said. “Now, c’mon,” he stepped aside to hold you behind your back, keeping you tucked beneath his arm. Using his other hand he rubbed the baby’s back and gave her cheek a quick kiss, happy to find that once he joined you two she had calmed down. “Let’s go see Kookie.”

Her head shot right up with enormous dark eyes full of stars. “Koo-hee?!”

“Koo-hee!” Both you and Yoongi copy her tiny voice, making her giggle with the silly smiles you flash at her.

The world around you seemed to melt away the second you were in your husband's arms, like all of a sudden you had the strength to handle anything the world would have thrown at you. His grip around your body as he walked with you into the airport was enough to silence the crowd, and power your legs to get through the doors without an incident.

A mere twenty minutes later, the three of you were seated on the plane, your daughter snoozing soundly on her fathers chest while you scrolled through your phone, curious to see what the internet has had to say of your appearance already. Resting his head on your shoulder, Yoongi followed along, making a sweet comment at every single photo of you.

“Oh, that one is the best,” he said quietly, your Twitter scroll stopping on a picture of the three of you before you walked off. The big, genuine, happy smiles you and Yoongi wore were priceless as you grinned at your baby girl, one whose face didn’t make it into any photos- thank the good Lord that somebody believes in. “You should post that one.”

Giving him a sideways glance, you huff a gentle laugh. “To my Instagram? It’s just gone public, you want me to blow it up even more?”

Yoongi tips his chin up, flashing you pouty puppy dog eyes. “I just want them all to know you’re mine. Both of you. I want everyone to know I’m yours, and I always have been.” You gave his forehead a kiss.

“Okay,” you nodded, “I’ll post it. Her face isn’t in any of these, so I can post as many as I want.”

Settling comfortably on your shoulder once again, Yoongi gave you caption advice for the post- an emoji that seemingly had nothing to do with the photo… But, you used it anyway. The angel emoji, with a halo and little wings.

“That one’s perfect,” he whispered, tapping on it for you.

“If you say so,” you smiled. Yoongi sat up a bit, carefully to not disturb his sleeping daughter. “You always pick the random ones.”

“Every single one I use means something,” Yoongi gazed at you fiercely. “That little guy,” he pointed to the angel, “That makes four of us.”

Your lips parted in surprise, unsure of what to say. That week in December devastated you both. Your stomach flips while you watch him study your face. The whirlwind life you live hasn’t given either of you proper time to process, or grieve.

“Baby,” he whispered, closing the space between you to touch his forehead to yours. “You don’t have to post it if you don’t want to.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your eyes welling with tears, you furrow your brows. “What did I do wrong,” escaped you in an exasperated gust of air. Yoongi shifted, wrapping an arm around your back.

“No,” he said, putting on his strong facade. “We don’t do that, we’ve talked about this. You know there wasn’t anything you did wrong. There wasn’t anything I did wrong. You heard the doctor say it, baby, multiple times. You gave him the perfect home, you’re healthy.” Yoongi paused to gauge where you were, praying that you were listening to him.

You respond after a few seconds, bobbing your head. Taking a deep breath, Yoongi swallows down the lump in his throat.

“It just wasn’t his time,” he whispered. “He wasn’t ready.”

“Yeah,” you whispered fast. Yoongi’s thumb found your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen.

“And, you remember the last time we were there, they said we could try again whenever we were ready,” he said. The end of last month you had a check-up with your doctor, just to make sure things were back to normal, and that your body was holding up alright. Your second pregnancy was a surprise, much like the first, you and Yoongi haven’t seemed to learn your lesson. However, losing your son before you had even gotten the chance to hold him in your arms put a lot of things into perspective for the two of you.

There were routine check-ups, you were eating better- both of you! This second child was something that you and your husband both wanted, and though each of your emotions have been through the wringer… You would be willing to try again when you felt like you could handle it.

“I want to,” you whispered. Yoongi smiled, but you could see his own worries within it. “I know, I feel the same way.”

“Together,” he cuts off the nervousness quickly. “We’ll do it together.”

“Uh, we kinda have to,” you giggled, making him laugh.

“I can’t wait,” he sing-songed through clenched teeth with a grin, stealing a kiss from you. Yoongi backs away from you to check on your sleeping daughter who hasn’t made a peep. He was surprised she had let her eyes shut while she was beside the window, normally she’d be gazing out at the clouds passing by.

Picking your phone up off of your lap, you smile at the angel emoji and click post, letting the notifications flood in like wildfire. This was all brand new. You were allowed to make your Instagram public about a week ago, and since then you’ve reached four million followers, while you used to have forty-six. Silencing the notifications from the app, every photo you’ve ever posted amassed an incredible amount of likes. Your feed was a feast, and the public was hungry.

Four million followers and counting. The number was only going to get bigger.

Watching the photo gain twenty thousand likes whenever you refreshed the page, you nudged Yoongi’s shoulder to show him what was happening, and when he turned his head to look, an unknown number you’ve never seen before popped onto your screen, calling you.

“What the…” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes.

Yoongi snatched the phone from your hand and quickly snapped a photo of the screen with his own, then he silenced yours and went into it, blocking the number who tried to reach you. He called Branson over and showed him the photo, letting the head of security take his phone with him.

“Trace this, or, do something. Tell me who's number this is,” his voice is stern, on alert.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” you said, laying your head down on his shoulder. “People get scam calls all the time.”

“Not us,” he said, tone flat.

Not even ten minutes passed before Branson came back, kneeling on the row of chairs in front of your family. He placed his elbows on the head rests and took a deep breath, darting his eyes back and forth from Yoongi to yours.

“Well?” Yoongi asked. Branson handed him his phone and frowned.

“Uh,” he stumbled over a few words, unsure of how to say what he needed to say. “We, um… The phone number belongs to your mother.” His voice is hushed, quiet, like he was afraid to tell you, when in actuality he was afraid to tell Yoongi. Touchy subject. Especially now.

There had been a restraining order set in place since the day after your daughter's first birthday. Yoongi held the meetings and took care of everything, all you had to do was sign.

Neither one of your parents were allowed to contact you, speak to you or your daughter, or try to see you in person. They were not allowed to mail anything to you, send anyone to see you in place of themselves, nor were they allowed to be in touch with anyone close to you. Sunny included. You had to make a list.

Expecting him to jump out of his seat, you stretch a hand over his lap and grab his other hand, the one on your daughter's back. Sitting up, you turn toward him ever so slightly to catch a glimpse of his expression. It had not faltered. He was stone faced, and you were sick to your stomach.

“Sue her,” he said. Turning to you, he sighed. “We’re changing your number again.”

“D, come on, it’s not like-”

“I don’t care,” he said, peering down to admire his daughter. “She clearly hasn’t gotten the message that you don’t want anything to do with her.” He pointed his focus back to Branson. “Fight it. Do what you can.”

“Got it,” the guard said, and whisked himself away.

It’s quiet for a moment before Yoongi said, “Why are you defending her?”

“I’m not defending her,” you said, and he raised a brow, giving you a funny look. “It’s just… Super annoying to give everyone a new phone number for the third time.” Both your lips turn up into a smile. “Sue the bitch, I don’t care, D.” Yoongi laughs. “Just don’t make me change my number again, I beg of you.”

“Alright,” he said. “No new number. BUT!” His raised volume made your daughter stir. “One more thing happens, you’re changing it.” The little one lifted her head, blinking a few times before she grinned at her father.

“Fine,” you whispered, not that he was paying attention anymore anyway. Your daughter took his full focus, and all of his kisses.

It seemed silly to just now realize that today was something of a confirmation of the last eight years. Living your life, being a secret to millions of others, while you and the people you cared most about knew, was nice, and secure, and peaceful. But, now… Now that everyone knew, the peace grew. It swallowed you whole, engulfing you and your family with stability and ease.

No more accidental reveals. No more false stories. No more rumors the company had to shut down. No more hiding.

You were absolutely free, and for now, that was everything.

thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece!

feedback is always greatly appreciated & helps artists immensely. we also all love messages & the audience’s input, opinions, and ideas.

leave me some here! <3

support my art here! <3

vegas tags <3 (i realize on the last post i missed some of you, i'm so sorry.) <3

@jewelrnicorn @yoongisducky @all-american-fangirl @funkylittlebisexuall @ahewlett @damn-u-min-yoongi @my-dark-happy-place

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aftersamu · 2 years

Text

you reach over, connecting your phone to the small portable speaker placed on the coffee table. and out of instinct, you play the song that's been on repeat in your head for the past week. extending out your hand, "come on, let's dance."

sakusa sakes his head, "no, i'm not dancing," he says.

"kiyoomi," you say, "come on! the best part is coming, take my hand." you persist, only to be met with the same reaction from the male. rolling your eyes, knowing sakusa would be just as cold no matter how hard you try.

taking the ravenette's hand, pulling him up from the sofa, ignoring the groaning and grumbling as you lazily hang your arms over his shoulders as his – reluctantly – find themselves around your waist.

the song fills the rooftop, sakusa finally giving in and pulling you in while you casually sway to the music. your head resting against his chest, feeling complete and utter bliss. your hand starts to play with the soft hairs at the back of his head.

everything at this moment feels right, so peaceful. it was out of character for sakusa, he never expected to slow dance with another to some song he's never heard of – let alone on his roof, at his penthouse – and enjoy it.

kiyoomi rests his chin on top of your head, and he knew one thing at that moment, he wanted to keep you pulled close to his chest for as long as he could.

"i'm going to spin you," sakusa says, taking one of your hands. spinning you around, hearing your quiet giggle when gently collide into his chest. "you know," he hums, "this is the first time i've ever slow danced with someone on my rooftop."

"hm, you must really like me then." you tease, meeting his eyes to see the unimpressed emotion fighting past the heavy adoration behind them.

"don't push it," he mumbles. "i think you're tolerable, that's it." sakusa lies, ignoring the racing of his heart and the sweat forming in his palms.

sakusa kiyoomi won't admit it – just yet – but he likes having you around, and he'd consider making slow dancing on the rooftop a regular thing for you.

#haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #hq x reader #hq drabbles #hq #hq fluff #sakusa imagines #hq sakusa #sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #haikyuu sakusa #kiyoomi x reader #hq kiyoomi

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itsonlydana · 6 months

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter eight

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,6k

❱ summary: the stormy side of summer; falling down a rabbit hole of doubts

❱ warnings: mature language, descriptions of weed & alcohol, description of a panic attack

❱ an: forgive me? This is the second to last chapter and I'm not me without a bit of drama

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER EIGHT: PANIC

The music around you was loud, the air sweltering hot. Heavy bass pulsed in your veins, mixing with the cold beer that you lifted to your lips trying to cool down just the slightest; it helped only a little and only for a brief moment, a hint of moisture in your throat before the stale and stuffy air caught up with you again.

No matter how many frat parties you had been to, the number of guests fitting in the much too small and mostly couch-filled houses always surprised you.

And here, in the living room you got dragged into, were obviously far too many. A mass of sweaty bodies pressed tightly together and swaying back and forth to the songs blaring from the speakers.

You leaned against the wall where you'd spent most of the evening, staring over the rim of your cup at your roommate.

'Oh, you really need to come to this party,' you repeated her tearful words from this morning in your head. She had blindsided you as you were about to head off to Aragorns, had begged you to accompany her because 'Oh I don't want to go there alone and we haven't been out in so long'.

Apparently, there was a tiny bit of guilt in you. In the weeks before university had started, you knew no one and had blindly followed her to these parties until you had met your boys, and yes, she was right about you then going with them rather than her.

Plagued by your good heart and the promise of 'We'll do it like we used to, just the two of us!' you had forced yourself out of your comfy clothes and Thranduil's sweater and thrown on one of your party outfits instead.

Nothing came of the "just the two of us".

Within minutes of your arrival, she'd been pulled onto the dance floor by one of the (in your opinion, look-alike) blonde residents of the house.

The only thing you had done together was pre-drink some shots in the car of an acquaintance who had given you a ride.

It didn't sound nice, and to most others, your roommate's behavior would probably be 'unfriendly' and 'selfish,' but while she preferred to dance with strangers, you had previously used these parties to, well, make acquaintances elsewhere.

With the promise of a real date from Thranduil and the text messages you'd been sending back and forth to each other all day and even for the past weeks, the thought of repeating your earlier party experiences left a bitter taste in your mouth.

And it was almost more disgusting than the beer here- however that was possible. The beer was disgusting. Really fucking disgusting.

Life had taken a turn on you, growing rosy and soft at the sharp edges.

The giddy feeling of bridging that space between you and Thranduil accompanied you throughout the days and nights, you saw no need in the hook-up culture that came along with these kinds of parties.

As if on cue and as if he had read your mind, your phone vibrated in your other hand.

Thran: Darling, I hope you arrived safely! xx Thranduil

The smile that spread on your face when you read his message was unavoidable.

Thranduil had a habit of signing every message with his name, even though you (and Legolas) had explained to him several times that it was not necessary.

With every day that passed, you discovered more very kind and terribly sweet quirks about Thranduil, and every day you fell more in love with him.

You: we did. four shots into the night and i want to leave again

Thran: Oh no! Did anything happen? xx Thranduil

You: nothing that should surprise me, its a frat party lmao

Thran: You seem to enjoy them when you go out with Legolas. xx Thranduil

Thran: A lot, if I remember the many nights where I had to pick you guys up from some house correctly xx Thranduil

There was a truth behind it that you couldn't deny.

Frat parties with Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli were clearly preferable to you, because your boys wouldn't just leave you alone.

Well, at least not for an entire evening.

Legolas had a knack for wandering off at these parties, though he never got far until he was surrounded by swarming girls and boys.

Another advantage of going to parties with them was that Aragorn knew everyone and you never had trouble getting in anywhere, no matter what kind of party it was.

The pick-ups by Thranduil increased again, now that summer break called for more parties and more outings.

With you last on the route and Legolas asleep and unresponsive in the back seat, Thranduil drove the rest of the way always with his hand in yours or on your legs and every time he accompanied you to the front door you hoped.

Hoped his lips didn't land on your forehead or your cheek. Hoping that he would finally kiss you like the look on his face showed. It was frustrating to stand in the dark alcove with him, looking up at him and feeling only his thumb on your lips as he put his hand on the back of your neck.

It was tempting to call him, just ask him to pick you up from this party and then you could drive around in the night, hands intertwined and without a care in the world.

To be honest, you were already dialing his number in your mind when you lifted your cup and looked back at your roommate as you drank.

Your clear conscience gnawed at you as you grimaced slightly biting into the plastic without breaking it. What you could use besides your less-than-ideal mood was a beer-soaked dress.

You: yes, with the boys!

You: roomie ditched me to make out with some Beta Chi Theta guy

You: i got crypto explained to me three fucking times

You: and i swear either i will die of boredom or blackout from the bowl they are serving here. its like 90 perc vodka

Thran: Typical for boys. Thinking a woman has nothing in her head because she is gorgeous. xx Thranduil

You: You think i am gorgeous? ;)

Thran: You are really cheeky for someone that got ditched xx Thranduil

You: wow. shouldn't you be reading a book or play golf, old man?

Thran: Shouldn't you be dancing and not texting with a still young and handsome man? xx Thranduil

Thran: Why are you going to these parties with your roommate if you suffer this much? xx Thranduil

You: most times you get free entry and drinks just bcs you got your tits out :)

Thran: That is definitely not the sentence that I have expected xx Thranduil

You: you want proof?

Thran: ...

Three dots ...

Nothing

Then again the three dots …

You had to bite your lip, and yet the grin spread all over your face as Thranduil visibly tapped away at an answer for a long time.

As much as it frustrated you to see the dots disappear again, the flirting had clearly improved your mood.

"Oh my god, girly–"

With both hands in front of her face, trying to catch her breath, your roommate fell against the wall next to you, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide open.

Without words, you held your cup out to her and grinned as she put her head back and drank the beer in a few gulps, after which she puckered her mouth.

"This shit tastes like ass," she said, wiping a hand across the corner of her mouth.

"Are you surprised?" you asked, letting your gaze wander over the crowd. "Where did you leave your boy-toy? The way he had his hands on you, I'm surprised to see you here beside me and not on some bed upstairs."

Snorting, your roommate held her hair to the side "Fuck me, it's so hot in here," she cursed and you longed for some fresh air as well, there was only one window open in here and a group of smokers were leaning out of it. "Kíli just went to get his brother," She turned her head, grinning broadly and started giggling "We were at a party at their place the other night and Girly— Fíli is such a hottie!"

"Brothers?" you asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically "Don't you think one is enough?"

At that, the giggling died down and a surprised and slightly reproachful look landed on you. "Babe, you of all people shouldn't be judging, don't you think?"

Slightly startled at the tone in her voice, you leaned away from her, seeking eye contact, but she rolled her eyes and then there was that smirk on her face again.

"As much as I would appreciate a trip to Paris," she was the only one laughing at this innuendo, "Fíli isn't coming for me. Well, at least not today." She paused to fan herself again and you thought you had to shake her to make her continue speaking. When she did, however, you wished you had never started the conversation.

"Fíli is coming for you, babe! Look at you, standing around all alone at this party, it's so lame," She smiled at you and put a warm hand on your bare arm. "In the old days, I would have had to hold your hair now or found you in one of the bedrooms."

"Coming for me?" you asked in horror, your thoughts a single merry-go-round at the sudden change in mood. "Why would you invite a boy I don't know over because of me? Just because I made the mistake of sleeping with some fratboy once in the very beginning?"

"You've changed sweetie and I just want to help you have fun again."

"I'm having fun," you replied bitterly, "Believe me, it's not on me why I'm standing around here alone. You wanted to come here together!"

"Yeah, because I thought that would make you finally stop thirsting after old men!" your roommate cried, and a slap would probably have been more pleasant than her words.

They came crashing down on you like a bucket of cold water while you got even hotter. You could feel your breathing first stop and then become faster, more irregular, and it slipped slightly into the uncontrollable.

She wasn't done, though. Cheeks flushed, she pressed a long fingernail against your chest and pushed you against the sticky wall.

"Do you know how disgusting it is to see you being driven home at night by a man as old as my father? Not to mention it's your best friend's father, Girl. You're constantly on the road, sleeping in his sweater and even here you prefer to write with this old fuck instead of finally finding someone your age. At first, I really believed you were sleeping with Legolas since you were always with him and god I would have understood that."

Anger burned in your belly, bubbling and hissing, fighting its way up with every word thrown at your feet, and by the last sentence, you were ready to forget all your notions of moral rightness.

The temptation to show her what you could do with your anger was as present in a twitch of your hands as the taste of blood in your mouth. You hadn't even realized you'd bitten your lip until metal spread across your tongue.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," you snapped at her in a tone that couldn't have been more bitter.

"Oh no?" She challenged you, her red-painted lips twisted into a sardonic grin. "Tell me," she moved closer, leaning far too close into your personal space for your liking right now, and you tasted alcohol and the acrid smell of weed on her breath.

"Is he paying you for sex? Or what does he want from you of all people?"

The music around you was loud and you felt hot and cold at the same time. The bass boomed in your ears and yet you thought you perceived nothing louder than the suspension of your heart at that moment.

It happened very quickly, the poisoned words had barely bitten you, you already felt a touch of dizziness, a spinning of the room and with it disintegrated the image that you had had so far of your roommate.

You couldn't find words to express what you wanted to say. You wanted to scream at her, push her, insult her, tug and tear at her and beat her with similarly poisonous claws until she felt even a hint of the pain spreading through your body.

There was so little air in that house.

Sweat and alcohol, weed and smoke stung your lungs with every attempt to take a deep breath.

Your legs moved on their own as you fought your way through the crowd, past blurry faces.

Out, you had to get out.

You needed air.

You fled the house, the words anchored deep in your chest, where they dug deeper with each breath until your chest threatened to explode.

Not knowing where to go, the main thing your brain screamed was away, you stumbled across the porch, hearing someone calling your name, but you didn't stop.

You kept running, lapsing after a while from running to walking more slowly until even that became far too much for your feet.

Looking around you didn't recognize the houses around you, and the thought of going back the same way you pushed away as quickly as it had come.

The silence coming from the sleeping family homes around you was almost as bad as the music of the house. Your heart beat loud enough that it throbbed dully in your ears and no matter how athletic you might be, your breath rattled and burned in the freezing night air that crept around your free legs and arms.

Shivering, from anger, cold or pure exhaustion from it all, you couldn't tell, you pulled at the hem of your dress and lowered yourself to the curb.

Legs pulled to your chest you ran your hands over your face, over glowing cheeks and as you tried to take a deep breath you felt your jaw tighten and only a sniffle could be heard in the silence.

A "fuck", slipped over your lips, quietly and rather an exhalation of air instead of letters. Your mind was in chaos, driven by a big 'what the fuck just happened?' thoughts piled up in an unassailable crowd. It felt surreal, and as much as you pleaded it was a figment of alcohol, the events burned inside you.

You stared at the ground in front of you, your roommate's last words echoing in your ears, and the image of your friendship tore before you like a rubber band stretched too long. It had been inevitable in the end, that was clear to you, because you had never really fit together.

Only the hostility had been a surprising guest.

She had been so driven to hurt you and her weapons had found their target.

What had seemed to you before like a solid foundation of trust and respect crumbled beneath you and your throat tightened at the thought of going back to your dorm.

Sniffling, you unlocked your phone, which you thank god hadn't dropped as you'd run. Immediately you stared at the last opened chat with Thranduil and the wave of emotions crashed over you again.

Before the bitter words could bite into your insecurity, however, you had already dialed his number and held the phone to your ear.

Only a few seconds later the dialing sound disappeared and was replaced by a coarse, "First you leave me on a sweet promise and then you call when I want to sleep? Tze tze, darling" A single, miserably failed attempt to suppress a sob was enough to change the tone in his voice from a drawled tease to concern.

He spoke your name with such concern that a second sob followed the first, "Is everything alright... what happened? Darling, the background is so quiet, where are you?"

You didn't have it in you to repeat the argument, didn't want to say hateful things to him over a phone even if they hadn't been your words.

Instead, you hugged your legs with your free hand, pulling them closer to you. "I don't know where I am"

On the other end of the line you heard him inhale sharply, a commotion of rustled blankets, then bare feet on floor.

"Nothing happened to me," you quickly forestalled his question, and then immediately felt the pain in your chest again, and tears gathered in your eyes on your next breath. "Thranduil, I–" you began, but your voice broke. Hearing him had been enough to open the floodgates of your held-back despair, the battle with yourself for your composure was lost.

Alone on the side of the road, in a neighborhood that was foreign to you and with nothing on you but what you were wearing and your cell phone, you felt so cut off from all warmth that you couldn't help but cry.

Thranduil said your name again, this time with more urgency, "Send me your location and I'll come to get you."

"You don't have to," you protested weakly "You wanted to sleep"

"The only way I'm going to be able to relax and close even one damn eye today is if I know you're safe, and nothing is going to stop me from making sure of that myself."

While sending him your location you also put him on speaker phone, your phone cradled in your hands.

"Okay, I can be there in fifteen minutes. Are you safe where you are?" asked Thranduil and you heard his front door slam.

You looked around, but except for a dog in the distance, no one seemed to be near you. "Yes," you managed to say before the tears took over again and shook you.

A car door was pulled open and closed again, the familiar click of its key and purr of the engine followed, and despite your crying, the familiar sounds filled you with a slight warmth.

As much as you wanted to make yourself smaller, to put your head between your legs to hide from the world, you didn't dare to turn your back completely to your surroundings.

It tore you apart piece by piece.

The evening had not gone at all as you had wished. It didn't have to be much, a few free drinks, conversations about courses of study and how awful some professors were, then maybe a couple of dances with girlfriends and before you knew it you would have been back in your bed, snuggled up in Thranduil's sweater.

But no.

How could you have been so wrong?

Your hands clawed into your upper arms as your body shook from your sobs. Nails pressed into your skin in a way that would surely leave marks, but you didn't fight back. Didn't stop.

Why had you opened up?

A bitter voice haunted your thoughts, whispering to you that it had been inevitable. Of course, you couldn't even enjoy a relationship; if you could call that with Thranduil a relationship.

He wouldn't even kiss you. They were ghosts, insecurities hidden under white sheets with grimaces cut into them, who knew how to use their tricks so that within a few minutes you were a complete mess.

What had started as anger toward your roommate took a quick downward path into your fears.

Your roommate had given the ghosts an opening, had purposefully punched a hole in your walls, and now your head was trapped in a stream, ever downward.

Doubt ate at you, made you question Thranduil's feelings.

You clung to whispered words at movie nights, the feather-light touch of his hand on your back wherever you were, and the smile, very different from his grin, much more genuine, gentle, and given only to you.

Tears fell too fast to wipe them away and sucked the last bit of strength that had kept you upright until now out of you like it was never there at all.

In another state, it would never have occurred to you to give in to doubts.

In another state, you were aware of how much progress you'd made in conversing and growing comfortable being the person the other could rely on, how heavy his touches were in their meaning.

A fleeting brush of his fingers over your shoulder or back as he passed you, a hand in your side as he walked you to the guest room after long parties, as Legolas fell asleep on the couch, or when he grabbed your hand to help you out of the car, because no matter what the weather, he was always at your door to open it.

It was easy to lose yourself when you were hurting, to question what was real.

You must have switched off completely, because suddenly you were bathed in the bright light of headlights and a dark car shot towards you much too fast.

What would have otherwise been guaranteed to send you running was a welcome sight to you, and you were on your feet even before the car stopped in front of you.

The next sob that went through you and shook your whole body was accompanied by a simultaneously relieved but also longing wail.

Thranduil jumped out of the car, the door open behind him and the engine continuing to purr, and you didn't wait a second longer before throwing yourself at him.

For a moment the ghosts disappeared, driven away by the oh-so-familiar face whose eyes anxiously scanned you for injuries.

His arms immediately embraced you, pulling you to his chest and wrapping around your torso like a shield. One of his hands grasped your waist, stabilizing you as he realized you were falling fully against him, his other stroking your back first in even motions until they brushed up your shoulder blades and then wrapped around your neck.

Your hands clawed at his sweater, crumpling the fabric between your fingertips as you clung to him. Turning your head so that your ear rested against his chest, the place your cheek pressed against was quickly drenched with tears and there was no doubt you would apologize when you could speak more again without being interrupted by sobs and whimpers from your throat.

"Shh, I'm here," Thranduil murmured, lowering his head to yours. Soft lips traveled a familiar route from your forehead, to your temple, down to your ear, leaving kisses so gentle that your heart contracted in shame at ever having doubted them.

"I'm here," Thranduil repeated, and you could feel the movement of his lips against your skin, feel the vibration of his deep voice in his chest. "Follow my breath, in and out, okay? In, you're doing so well my love, and out slowly, very good."

A few minutes of deep, concentrated breathing passed to force yourself back into a stable state.

Eased through it by Thranduils low voice in your ear, reverberating through your entire body just like the breaths he took for you to mimic him.

Guided by the slow rise and fall of his chest, your lungs filled themselves with his scent instead of the harsh and cold wind, clouding you in the faint smell of lingering perfume that had worn off this late of an hour.

"I'm sorry," When you spoke, your voice was raspy. The words were scratching in your throat, it would most likely be sore later, and half of them are muffled by his sweater, but you felt that he heard you in the way that his muscles tensed. "I'm so sorry."

Your eyelashes were sticky with tears, pealing open to tilt your head just the slightest bit for you to look up at Thranduil.

His eyes were on you already, and with a soar of your heart you discovered the puffiness under them, the redness coloring his cheeks.

Had he been crying? For you? Because of you?

Slowly you raised on arm, stroking over the slight discoloration of his ivory skin.

He caught your hand in his, breathing another kiss on the inside of your palm.

"I was so fucking scared," he started, holding your gaze through half-lidded eyes "I was trying to talk to you on the phone but you stopped talking and all I could hear were your cries and god, I was so fucking scared that I wouldn't be here in time. The scenarios in my head–" his whole body shuddered trying to fight those thoughts visibly coming up again, the breath he lets out hot against your hand. "I would have never forgiven myself."

"I'm so so sorry," you whispered "I wasn't sure who to call."

"You have no need to apologize for this. Okay? Never apologize for calling me, whenever and whatever it is about. I rather drive through the country to pick you up than have you call a cab." Thranduils nose nudged against your forehead.

His gaze was slowly softening, the initial worry not disappearing but dwindling to be replaced by a relief that you at least seem to be physically alright.

"Come, let's get you out of this dreadful cold. It looks like it will rain soon and you, my darling, deserve to be warm and comfortable."

'I am warm', you thought loosening your grip on his sweater, 'you make me feel warm.'

You didn't say it, instead, you let him guide you to his car, his arm still around your waist and when he opened the door for you you had to hold back another sob.

There, laying on the black leather, was the green sweater you loved so much on him.

The one he wore when he had you pressed against the painting in his hallway, the one he had worn the first morning you came over after that evening, still giddy and blushing all over, as he had sat next to you at the breakfast table and his legs had ever so slightly brushed against yours, while Legolas and Gimli were discussing your weekend plans.

He had worn that sweater the first time he had held your hand in the darkness of his living room, a movie playing on the TV and Legolas asleep on the other end of the couch, and you had held your breath, as he slowly reached between you, intertwining your fingers in each other and smiling at you.

Pulling it over your head you felt your hands trembling.

There were so many words on your tongue, forming sentences out of the feelings bubbling inside you like a hot pot of water that surely would boil over sooner or later and you could pinpoint the exact moment it did because as soon as Thranduil sat down in the driver seat he reached over and gently placed his hand on your leg.

"You don't need to tell me what happened but know that I'll listen to you when you want to."

You were fighting the tears once again, this time it was from the overwhelming warmth that spread through you. Thranduil was here, with you, and his voice carried to you like a comforting embrace and you no longer were alone.

Oh, how wonderful it felt. The kindness in his words was a flame inside you, lightning all the places that were left raw and hollow and cold with haunting ghost touches and it soothed away the pain that the venomous words had left you with.

There was not a chance that you could get anything out of your mouth without breaking down into a crying mess. so you just nodded, resting your hand over his and squeezed it.

It wasn't much.

But it was enough for the moment

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax @tigereyesf

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #thranduil oropherion #king thranduil #thranduil #thrandaddy

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maggstar · 2 years

Text

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

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𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+, mni DNI!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a short practicer after hours was the goal of tonight, until she came.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, getting caught masturbating, oral (f. receiving), dom reader, Heeseung is a pervert.

𝐖𝐂: 2k

𝐀/𝐍: Hellooo, this one is for my love @hee-pster. I hope you like this short fic hehe.

Please leave any sort of feedback: reblogging and commenting is the best for me, so let me know!!

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Heeseung had been practicing the choreography for the new comeback for a few hours now, hitting replay whenever he encountered a mistake. The studio was quiet, a few stomps here and there accompanied by his heavy breath and the pleasing melody of the song. At that point, he had lost track over time, fully engaging in the workout. Their comeback was right around the corner, and he spent the last days either in the studio or here.

He kept rewinding his parts in the performance video of the choreography as there was a constant necessity to perfect his execution, drilling to the max to improve any lacking compartment.

As he rewatched that one part in the video, he began analyzing the woman who was the choreographer, studying the movements. She flawlessly delivered her (his) parts that it was almost mesmerizing. Heeseung couldn't help but repeat the few seconds of her lines, the corners of his mouth curving up at her sight.

The young lady was relatively new in the company, getting assigned to his group first. The introduction was a memorable moment, in which he could still remember the nervous girl, who was particularly anxious about the impression she would leave. After a few classes, she realized how outgoing the boys were and how enjoyable it had become over the past weeks.

It certainly made him happy to find out about the choice of members her team had made. Seeing his name tag on her for the newest performance video awoke a weird feeling because he knew it wasn't a random selection, and Heeseung couldn't stop thinking about it. He had heard overheard the conversation of the dancers after one class, where she revealed her great adoration for the group, specifically to him. For some reason, being her bias enchanted a foreign sentiment, which motivated him to work even more.

After that, Heeseung noticed his enjoyment of attending the practices growing. Others were seemingly happier as well, so the atmosphere had drastically changed. The little hellos and faint smiles after they had finished always managed to speed up his heartbeat, scoring over the adrenaline. His eyes would occasionally land on the teacher, observing her body hitting each beat precisely.

They were sharp but energetic, perfect for the intensity of the dance. The fact this was her first time in the industry was exceptionally awing, given the difficulty of having boy groups as a designation. She was keen on leading the practices, always carrying an uplifting spirit.

He remembered how he and a few members came early to the lesson today, interrupting a little dance battle the team had going on. They were mostly messing around, but she and what he assumed to be her best friend were taking it seriously. Songs kept shuffling, and the two didn't stop moving around, having a choreo for every single one. Everyone was hyping them up, the vibe escalating through the roof from the number of boosters.

When the genre switched to a sensual one, they went all in, showcasing their power without hesitation. It was challenging to only focus on the performance after realizing his vision soon darted on her body in an unwanted pattern.

Her confidence amazed him, not minding the sudden attention of the males. That was the most attractive fact, how she would make a mere provocative move and laugh it off as if it didn't do anything to him. Only he knew about the awkward situation in his pants, and covering it in those grey sweatpants was an impossible mission.

It only worsened with each confidence boost she had, becoming more open an relaxed with expressing herself. He didn't know if it was how she slowly stood up after bending over or the discreet wink she'd sent that made his dick tug so hard.

The only thing he could concentrate on now was those tight pair of leggings she was wearing in the video. He had the perfect opportunity to observe the attributes God had given her, definitely taking his time making her. Long legs with muscular thighs, not the usual scrawny type he would encounter.

Thankfully, he had brought a cap to be discreet about his intentions during class. To his embarrassment, it wasn't the first time he had done this. In almost every lesson he attended, a different type of cap topped his outfit, never having skipped one without wearing it.

The scene beneath now only laughed in a mocking pattern, prompting the light switch. This place wasn't certainly the most comfortable spot, the chances of getting caught being high. However, it had been too many hours, and it wouldn't leave until he took control of the situation. He wasn't proud of it either, but each second his mind wandered back to her image, the problem grew bigger. It's why his mind was roaming the whole time, and he had to practice secludedly because his brain photographed different things during dance practice.

There wasn't a time when something had interfered with his work, especially when the date was this close. What happened today threw him off in a way he couldn't explain. It wasn't a disappointment, but rather a surprisement - a woman had managed to distract him without even trying.

He should have known from the day she had first spoken to him because that's when he fell in. Her honey voice conveyed softly every time, going in deeper tones with frustration, almost forcing him to fail to acquire the level. It still kept echoing in his ear: his name between her plump lips covered in a dark shade of ruby red. That gentle call, he could hear it so well.

"Heeseung?" it rang through his fingers, causing another wave of warmth in his chest. The soft floral scent following her around splashed through, imagination dragging into a believable fantasy.

"Heeseung?" he heard it more clearly this time, a bit closer even, almost as if the distance between imagination and reality compressed. The adrenaline in his system pierced through, sending vibrations to his length at the thought of her being here.

"Heeseung!" the thin glass between his vision broke, eyelids retrieving to uncover a tall figure standing ahead with a worried face. At first, he didn't understand the displayed puzzlement, but the heat in his hand answered it. Getting caught appeared to be a better alternative in the dream world than reliving it at the moment. Before you could even study the screen, it went black, disappearing in the shadows of mortification.

"You ok?" you asked, unable to locate his face in the darkness, trying to adjust to the sudden lack of light.

"Yes, I was just practicing for a bit" the hand in his boxers secretly slipped out, his waistband ruining the attempt at discreetness.

"In the dark?" the question caused another eyebrow to raise in a questioning matter.

Entering the room this late to encounter a startled Heeseung sitting in the corner with a computer in his lap was definitely not on your to-do list, still surprised by the unexpected encounter.

"Oh, yeah, um, I was about to leave anyway, so." The sooner he got out, the less awkward this would be. Without a second thought, he gathered his things, standing up to leave. You scoffed at his demeanor, grabbing his T-shirt to unravel your plans.

"You really think you're just going to walk out of here after that?" your tight grip on his crotch caused him to yelp, the firm push causing his back to hit the mirror. The unforeseen contact on his erection sent him to another dimension, gradually getting clutched in your hand.

"You think I didn't hear those pathetic whimpers from outside?" the frustration he had craved before had now arrived, taming around his ear in a low grunt. Heeseung could feel the hair on his arms standing up, the inability to witness the forthgoing actions making him dizzy.

"Or see what you were watching?" he gasped at the realization, probably the picture having reflected on the mirror. Your lips brushed over his helix, playing with it between your teeth.

"Or what you were doing during it?" you bit on the cold flesh, causing him to quiver out of shock. The heat flushing through his system only intensified as your breath caressed his neck, quiet gasps dodging an attempt at communication. There wasn't much to be said since you had caught him, having to face the consequences you were about to set.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't report you right now." The hold traveled upwards, gradually wrapping all fingers around his neck to pull closer. He couldn't see your face, but the breathing balanced of his mouth, standing inches away from each other.

"I'll do whatever you want, just don't let anyone find out, please." The helplessness in the sentence made you smirk, the begging appealing more than anticipated.

"Whatever?" you repeated the word, the locked ideas releasing to spice up the night.

"Yes," he sighed out of desperation, worried about getting exposed to his members and the staff about his perversity.

"Get on your knees, then," you switched spots, resting your arms on his shoulders to guide them lower. The excitement in his stomach doubled at comprehending the situation, fully surrendering to you.

"You know what to do" was the cue for his hands to finally roam over you, grasping the thighs he had been drooling over for the past hours. They were firm, strong enough to squeeze anything between them. The lewd image of being placed between and suffocated flashed as he moved around, pushing behind to reach your back. He mentally prepared himself for what was about happen amidst pulling down the leggings with your panties, leaving your bottom exposed for him.

His hands made their way back to your bare legs, brushing over the soft skin to move up bit by bit, wishing there had been light to capture the portrait. He grazed over your intimate part with his finger, smiling at your body shaking in response. Out of impatience, you grabbed his hair and pushed him towards it, sensing the mark of his lips, which only intensified the need to feel his tongue.

He heard your yearning, opening his mouth to grant the wish by spreading the accumulated saliva on your clit. A quiet moan slipped out of you at the contact, having been touch deprived for too long. You let him do wonders down there, feeling his tongue traveling up and down, teasing your entrance from time to time, taking all of you in to suck the pleasure out of it.

He took your leg and placed it over his shoulder, gaining the required access to do his job. The cries of satisfaction only boosted him to continue, moaning into your pussy to relieve the bottled-up neediness. He imagined how your face had to look, all scrunched up from the delight, begging for more because it couldn't get enough. The lewdness wiped off the innocence that usually sat there, a seductive appearance substituting instead, enjoying the control.

"Faster," you groaned, biting your bottom lip to suppress any unwanted noise from coming out. Heeseung did as you said, not wasting time to achieve your climax quicker. The taste it left on his tongue was addictive, coming back for more each time, not minding you pushing him even deeper. His mind was too focused on pleasuring to even comprehend the lack of oxygen in his chest, losing himself in the moment. He kept slowly sliding his tongue inside you, swallowing the juices flowing down his throat, smiling at the contentment.

"Fuck, don't stop doing that," you encouraged as you didn't want him to stop, the feeling of it entering and slipping out at an unhurried pace completely breaking you. It was embarrassing how your walls clenched around it whenever he thrust in, never having experienced this way of a cunnilingus. Thus, your climax approaching made sense, and Heeseung understood when you began rubbing against his nose bridge.

He let you use him as you wish, enjoying the eager moans you delayed, changing each time you got closer. When you did, you practically ripped the hair out of his skull from the overstimulation he gave you by licking all of your fluids.

"Stop, stop, stop," you pushed him away, attempting to catch a breath since he didn't give you a proper break. He grinned, standing up amidst acquiring the remains on his lips and chin, making sure you heard the sounds as a message that he enjoyed all of it.

"Did I do a good job, ma'am?" his breath teased against your ear this time, hearing the cocky smile on his face. You turned to brush your lips against his, panting at the intimacy.

"I'm not sure, you will have to show me more," he chuckled at the invitation, giving a soft peck as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

"Oh, I thought you would never ask."

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Taglist: @end-hyphen, @hee-pster, @jakeswifeyy, @gegeetime, @heerated, @jayked

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ^^

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@maggstar

#minors: dni #enhypen smut #heeseung smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen headcanons #enhypen scenarios #enhypen timestamps

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ewanmitchelll · 6 months

Text

Imagine Arctic Monkeys’s songs: Do I Wanna Know?

Imagine you are seduced by Aemond Targaryen.

Warnings: fluffy, light reading—explicit smut.

Warnings 2: alternative universe where the Greens won uncontestedly the war.

***

Have you got colour in your cheeks? Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift the type that sticks around like something in your teeth?

Aemond finds difficulty to settle after years waging war. There is peace after a decade fighting his sister and her partisans. They are all nothing but names now, recorded in the maesters books.

To placate his restless energy, the prince has, in many ways, followed in his bitter enemy’s footsteps—getting himself lands in the Free Cities, he found himself a new life style as well as a new wife.

But because he’s now the Hand of the King, in opposite to Daeron’s career in Citadel, his life style was left behind. For now.

You, however, settled easily with this new routine. Harrenhal is your home and this is the household you must fill your wifely duties. Initially, you found a rival for your husband’s affection—his former mistress, a woman named Alys Rivers, did not let easily go the path to Aemond’a heart—which complicated your smooth transition from the life of a free damsel who loved the seas to a noblewoman, wife of a bad reputed prince.

Despite the initial scandal such a match evoked, you and Aemond overcame the early disapprovals until the dowager queen accepted you as her daughter-in-law in a relationship that grew fondly in due time.

As you spend the afternoon reading a love story between a knight and his damsel in distress, which in some shades reminds yours, you are found missing your husband dearly.

Aemond has been gone to Free Cities to knock a local rebellion and negotiate peace terms with the involved, applying the law, before going back. And he misses you too.

When he lands with Vhagar, he hurries to you—although the prince needs to clean himself first. Only then he comes at you.

Aemond finds you busy with your lecture at their bedchambers, so concentrated that you don’t spot him, leaning against the wall, watching you with a side smirk on his lips.

Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep? I've dreamt about you nearly every night this week…

His good eye is set on you like a hunter when it’s about to get its prey. Your y/c hair is loose behind your back, your eyes are focused in the lines you read but he wonders what is the theme that makes you furrow your eyebrows. Your lips are partially open and Aemond easily sees his own clashing against yours in a long fervent kiss. But the man is patient.

The gown you dress is the first he gifted you, in the days of your courtship. Aemond is pleased to see you still keep it in your wardrobe. The gown shows some cleavage and shoulders, reinforcing your firm full breasts.

When staring at your heavy breathing, his own chest goes slowly up and down. His eyes devour your skin through the clothing, still keeping in his thought the moment your nipples go hard under his eager tongue.

When remembering how much you enjoy it, how you always sang louder the moment he took his time to suck each breast, a heat troubles his inner balance. His manhood gets lightly unbearable.

It’s time to move.

How many secrets can you keep? 'Cause there's this tune I've found that makes me think of you somehow and I play it on repeat until I fall asleep, spilling drinks on my settee…

Aemond recollects the first time he saw you. Finding a way to survive in Essos, your brother had plans to send you to serve Rh’llor whilst you considered piracy. You’ve always loved the sea, and there you’d content yourself when your path crossed his.

You knew nothing of his past, and yet you took him in. When love flourished, it took not much time.

Moved by this agony of spending too much of his time away from you, he wants you again. Using shadows on his favor, he is about to surprise you.

Aemond kneels behind you. Still focused in the reading, you do not notice he’s behind your chair. The prince is lightly amused at how this novel has stolen you from him.

“My lady, I am no poet, no bard, no man versed in the court of love, but I’d think by now you were missing me.”

Quickly, you stand, turning at him with joy. It’s been five years since he espoused you and the same joy is there whenever he comes back to your arms.

“I missed you, my husband! How could it not be? Oh Aemond, it’s been so long!”

He experiments that peaceful bliss he never thought he’d feel the moment his lips are welcomed by yours. It starts as a slow, passionate kiss, only then to be parted by you.

“I should have prepared our chambers to receive you better”, you say, ready to fetch a servant when he pulls you right in front of him.

“Why, I wanted to surprise my lady”, he smirks, resting his chin over your shoulder as his hands begin to pace around your waist. “You still have the gown I gifted you during our courtship.”

“Yes, I do”, you blush lightly, not expecting him to notice it.

“Looking gorgeous as always”, he whispers hotly in your ear, giving you goosebumps.

“Aemond…”, you smirk, wondering what’s to come. “I have some news to tell you.”

“Then tell me”, so he says as his tongue begins to draw lines from your earlobe to your jawline and neck, tightening the grip of your waist.

You try to focus, but when he gets to your neck, your leg automatically begin to rub in another and you giggle softly.

“Y-Your brother…”, you almost forget how to breathe the moment he rests a hand over your belly, moving up to your breast.

“Yes?”, he bites your neck softly, missing to feel your firm breast over his hand, but not taking it long now… not yet. “You were saying?”

You try to release yourself off his grip, about to get on fire, but Aemond is very domineering today. The hand on your back is now over your neck, holding it possessively. The way you like it.

“He is throwing a feast and a tournament…”, you get speechless the moment his lips are back at your neck and his right hand starts to lift the skirts of your gown.

“And…”, he smirks, encouraging you to speak as he defies you not to succumb easily into his teasings.

“And… Aemond!”, you hiss impatiently when feeling his hand on your thigh.

Aemond takes a seat and makes you sit on his lap. There is a fire that is about to burn you…and you want to get burnt. But you know it’ll be on his terms.

“Tell me, or I will stop.”

He smirks devilishly as you pout.

Do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways (Sad to see you go) Sort of hoping that you'd stay. (Baby we both know) That the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can't say tomorrow day…

“The tournament is on…” you barely speak as he begins to tease you through your undergarments. Using his thumb to draw circles over it, you whimper, partially impatient.

“On?”

He pauses, amused as you frown at him.

“Either you tell me or I’ll stop, my dear. The punishment for ignoring me…” Aemond chuckles as you pout again.

“…on the next week”, and he resumes the touching, working his hands within you. “He wants to…. Oh, Aemond!… to celebrate his tenth year he is on the I-I-Iron Throne!”

Aemond chuckles to himself as you try to keep your composure the moment two fingers are inserted in your womanhood. He feels how soaked you are, enjoying the sounds you make as he stimulates you.

“Mm. What else?”, he asks in your ear, using his free hand to unlace your gown, aroused by your reactions.

“He wants you…”, and here you let out a poorly muffled cry the moment he increases his pace. “…to take part of the feast and… and be his champion! Oh bloody seven hells!”

As you throw your head back, the gown, now loose, begins to fall. Aemond stares at your denuded chest, biting his own bottom lip as your nipples are hardened under his lustful gaze.

“His champion?”, he helps you to straighten on his knee, despite the trouble to ignore the aching in his manhood.

“On the tournament!”, you moan indecently loud the moment he cups one boob with his free hand.

Aemond smirks at you. Oh how he loves these games he plays with you. He is a victor each time.

“Hmm. I shall consider the invitation”, he leaves more bruises in your skin, before whispering unspeakable things to your ear that makes you hot enough to burst into his hand.

And when he licks each finger before you, you almost go insane.

“Aemond!”, you turn at him, finally free of his grasp. You remove the gown off your body, rubbing yourself to his manhood as you settle your hips properly over his, hands eagerly removing his own clothing.

“Oh I haven’t finished with you yet, woman”, he groans as he lifts you and pulls you gently against the window. As you remain on your back to him, he kisses your neck and down to your back, before fingering you again.

“Lords, Aemond!”

And to your delightful surprise, his lips soon take place where his fingers have been. Now you settle the reins and gladly ride his face.

Crawling back to you… Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do. Maybe I'm too busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now I've thought it through, crawling back to you…

But once again in bed he has you under his command again. Crawling over your body, he prepares to set his pace.

“I’ve been burning too long alone to let these flames go unescaped”, he whispers, touching himself right before you, until he leaves it to tease your entrance.

Aemond likes seeing you subduing to him. Even more when fire is indeed burning in such a level that makes you bed. And nothing arouses him more than seeing a prideful lady be turned into a beggar in… bed.

This is how he spreads your legs gently and, leaning his body to be closer to yours, the prince slowly thrusts in you.

“Have I been punished enough?”, you moan sensually, legs wrapped around his waist.

“Perhaps”, he smiles at you.

Only when your gazes meet, he softens.

“I’ve missed you”, and his lust is replaced by the genuine affection that has mirrored in your eyes. “A lot.”

“As have I”, you admit in short breath. “Very much, my rogue prince.”

Aemond smiles down at you, kissing your lips as your body and his finally move as one.

Simmer down and pucker up. I'm sorry to interrupt. It's just I'm constantly on the cusp of trying to kiss you. I don't know if you feel the same as I do but we could be together… If you wanted to.

Later, you feel his wide eyed gaze at you. With no patch to cover his bad eye, he is the way you like him to: himself, nude and crude.

“I am pleased to find your heart shut for me alone”, you muse after a moment spent in warming silence.

“How so?”

He turns at you, on his elbow. Aemond strokes your face gently, doing the same then to your hair.

“Are you still daunted by these insecurities?”

“At times I am. I fear to lose your affection”, you admit. “But this only happens when I’m sensitive.”

“You do not need to excuse yourself for me when I’m open like this before you, wife”, he presses a kiss over your forehead. “I admit I have my own demons to haunt. There are nights I wish I had not… survived.”

“How so, my love,”, you turn at him and he sees fear in your eyes.

“I wish I had not been the cause why such a war disrupted. There is no good in dwelling in the past, but if I must be open with my lady, then my remorse must be shared with you. This is what pains me in times where restlessness knocks me out. Not an old mistress.”

“I’m sorry for this”, you feel ashamed for the confession, but Aemond looks in peace with it.

“Don’t be. We are husband and wife, love. We are in this together. I love you and it’s your love that helps me with going through difficult times.”

That being said, he kisses your lips. Every doubt dies permanently at his passionate kiss.

#ewan mitchell #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #house targaryen #aemond targaryen smut #Arctic monkeys #do I wanna know?

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mint-yooxgi · 2 years

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{20} - Hotel California - Yandere!Demonic Entities!Ateez X Reader

Yandere AU & Demon AU - Based off of This ask and Hotel California by Eagles

Genre: Mature, Horror, Angst, Fluff, Slight Humor

Pairing: Ateez X Reader (Focus on Seonghwa)

Words: 9,169

Warnings: Talks of mental illness: depression, suicidal thoughts, and suicide. Insecurities. Heavy angst. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: So, this chapter is still pretty angsty in my opinion, but it does get fluffy near the end. It’s meant to really encapsulate both sides of the story and their emotions, so I hope that all comes through. I highly recommend listening to, or even searching up the lyrics to the songs in this chapter when they appear, as it will really put the songs I chose into perspective and provide more context/meaning to them in the moment. I really want to emphasize how the OC is really two sides of the same coin with all of them. I also really hope you enjoy it! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

Main Story - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine - Part Ten - Part Eleven - Part Twelve - Part Thirteen - Part Fourteen - Part Fifteen - Part Sixteen - Part Seventeen - Part Eighteen - Part Nineteen - Mini Masterlist

For two whole days, you see no sight, nor hear no sound of Seonghwa. Probably because you’ve opted to confine yourself to your room again, worried one of the others will bring up the topic of talking to him before you’re ready. At least the separation has given you time to think.

Sure, you’re still upset with what he said, but Jongho’s words from the other day in the library keep repeating themselves inside of your head.

He was scared.

You know first hand what fear can do to your emotional response. All logic simply can, and will, fly out of the window.

Still, that does not excuse what he said to you.

On the third day, you brave traversing outside of your room for a little while.

The encounter you have with him is brief. You walk into the foyer on the way to the library when you see him coming from the opposite hall. Of course, he froze as soon as he saw you, eyes going wide as that same look of regret and sorrow takes over his features.

You say nothing, but you meet his gaze, blinking once at him as you continue to walk past.

For the first time in weeks, he doesn’t immediately beg for your forgiveness. No, this time, he simply watches you until you disappear from his sight. Still, he cannot keep his hands from shaking.

A fact of which you notice.

The rest of the week passes by exactly like this. Whenever you see Seonghwa, you acknowledge his presence either by meeting his gaze briefly, or nodding subtly in his direction. He makes no attempt to push you to listen to him anymore, nor does he dump countless amounts of apologies onto you. It’s still tense, but at least it’s bearable for you now.

Finally, you feel as if you can breathe again.

A week after that talk in the library with Hongjoong and Jongho, you decide to call your sister. You haven’t spoken to her in a little bit, and considering everything that’s happened, you could really use a good familial connection right now. Your mother is always an option, but as soon as you let on that you’re not in the right headspace, she’ll start asking you a million and one questions, and do whatever is in her power to find you and comfort you.

Not that you would complain, you just would rather have someone to listen to you for now, instead of wanting to take direct action. Besides, you could really go for hearing your sister’s familiar and comforting voice.

“Hey boo, what’s up?” She greets you with a smile after two rings of the video call going through. “How’ve you been?”

Currently, you find yourself sitting out on your balcony, the doors open wide behind you. You rest on one of the chaises, stretching your feet out in front of you as you hold your phone in your hand, elbow propped up on one of the arm rests.

“I’ve been okay,” you smile briefly, nothing more than a tense pull of your lips upwards. “I just wanted to call and check up on things with you. How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been great!” She replies, eyes instantly lighting up. “Work has really been picking up, so I’m happy about that.”

Fifteen minutes later, and she’s told you all about her personal business finally gaining traction, and bringing in more clients. You can tell that she’s super excited about everything, and that excitement rubs off on you. You find yourself smiling genuinely along to everything she has to say, and replying when appropriate with your encouragement and praise. You are really proud of her and how far she’s come, considering everything that she’s been through the past few years.

“Oh, and the next time you come to visit, we have a surprise for you!” She grins.

“A surprise?” You quirk a brow. “What is it?”

“Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now, would it?” She chuckles.

“No, I suppose not,” you chuckle along with her, a soft smile adorning your features.

“Speaking of, when do you think you’ll be coming home to visit?” She asks, blinking curiously at you. “I know you’re all tied up with that new mystery lover of yours.”

At the suggestive wiggle of her brows, you can only sigh and shake your head.

“Still on about the mystery lover, huh?” You almost tut. “Will you cut it out?”

“Alright, alright, sorry,” she giggles, grinning knowingly.

“To answer your question,” you reply, somewhat pointedly with a teasingly firm look on your features, “I don’t know. Hopefully, soon.” You blink, the corner of your lips twitching upwards faintly. Almost sadly. “As soon as I can.”

With everything with Miyeon going on, and the fact that you were attacked the last time you went out, you think you just want to stick around the house for a little while. Besides, the guys all briefly filled you in on the fact that Miyeon does have allies now. Allies of which are two of the most dangerous men outside of the eight of them.

Needless to say, you have no plans on dying any time soon the next time you leave the house. Though, the first chance you get once this is all over, you’re going to visit your family. You miss them. A lot.

“Are you okay, boo?” Immediately, her brow furrows in worry. “You seem kind of down lately, and you zoned out on me there for a good little bit. Did something happen?”

A heavy sigh escapes you as you shift in your seat.

“Just-“ you blink, rubbing at the side of your face as your expression falls, shoulders drooping once more, “having a little bit of a rough time lately, that’s all.”

“Oh no,” concern is clear on her features, and you notice her lean slightly forwards in her seat. “Is it your depression again?”

“Part of it,” you nod. “Though, it’s a bit more complicated than that, I guess. It’s nowhere near as bad as it was, though. Well, you remember.”

A hint of fear flashes in her eyes. “I do.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing like that,” you share a knowing look with her, a faint twitch of your lips upwards. “I promise.”

“You and I both know that as soon as those thoughts come back, you don’t let them consume you anymore. You immediately get help.” She reminds you, and you nod along with her words. “We are not who we used to be. We’re better than that.”

“Yes,” you readily agree, eyes flashing in acknowledgement. “Yes, we are.”

“Do you have any outlets you can use to work through your emotions right now?”

You tilt your head slightly side to side, humming, “yes, and no.”

“What about that one hobby of yours?” She inquires. “I’m sure the hotel, or whatever you’re staying at, has one somewhere in a lounge or something, given the extravagance of the place. Perhaps you can just ask one of the staff to let you use one after hours, or something.”

“I haven’t touched one in years, honestly,” you reply, shifting your gaze out across to what appears to be the open desert stretching out in front of you.

“It helped you before,” she says, knowingly.

“I suppose it did,” you hum, a small nod to your head.

“Speaking of, how are you still able to afford staying at that place? It looks so fancy, and you haven’t been working lately, as far as I know. Have mom and dad been helping?” She quirks a brow, that teasing spark back in her eyes as she looks at you. “You keep saying there’s no mystery lover, but-“

“Oh, for crying out loud, Crystal!” You cut her off. “Will you knock it off?”

She laughs, boisterous and content. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

Your lips tighten into a tense smile.

“Anyways, we’re going out for dinner soon, so I’m going to have to let you go to get ready,” she says. “If you ever need me, or even if you just want to talk, I’m here for you. Don’t hesitate at all.”

“I appreciate that,” your smile turns genuine once more. “Same goes for you.”

“Of course,” she returns your smile. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree wholeheartedly. “Have fun at dinner, and say ‘hi’ to everyone for me.”

“Will do!” She replies. “Bye, boo! I love you!”

“I love you, too.” With a final wave and goodbye, you’re ending the call with your sister.

Another sigh escapes your lips as you place your phone beside you on the chaise, tucking it halfway beneath your thigh as you tilt your head back momentarily. Closing your eyes, you allow your whole body to relax.

A soft mewl draws your attention to the floor beside you, noticing Kuroo jump onto the chaise you’re resting on in the next second. He craws over your lap, settling onto your thighs as he begins to purr.

“Well, hello there, Little One,” you chuckle, scratching at his chin as he curls into you. “Did you come to check on me?”

At the way he exposes his belly for you, paws in the air curled above his chest, you’re letting out another chuckle.

“Oh, how sweet you are,” you coo, petting his tummy lightly as you look down at him.

Absentmindedly, you continue to scratch at his belly softly, combing your fingers through his fur. Kuroo is more than content to lay here like this with you, quickly falling asleep as he continues to keep you company. At least it gives you time to think.

Yes, you’re still upset at what happened, but keeping up this type of anger isn’t good for your mental health. Plus, you do miss spending time with Seonghwa, talking to him and joking around. You miss that cute pout of his that will tug onto his features when you tease him, and you miss the comfort of his voice.

Perhaps you’ve been a little too harsh on him with not letting him explain himself to you. You know for a fact that you’ve regretted those words you spoke in annoyance when exiting the library last week as soon as they left your lips.

Perhaps this is exactly how he felt.

At least you’ve now had time to process things.

Still, you’ll give it another day or two before you’re ready to talk to him. You don’t think you’re quite ready, or in the correct headspace to have that kind of conversation with him yet.

The very next day, luck seems to be on your side, for they all get called to an emergency council meeting. Seems as if someone has a new lead for them about Miyeon, or something.

It’s a bit odd, seeing a raven squawking around the house, but Wooyoung quickly explains to you that they’re the fastest messengers they have that travel between the realms. Though, you can tell both he and Jongho aren’t too pleased when the raven lands on your shoulder and stands like a sentinel, watching them with narrowed eyes.

“Are they flirting with me now, too?” You quirk a brow teasingly.

“Yes, she is,” Jongho replies, clearly irritated.

Your brows raise in amusement as you turn to look at the raven on your shoulder.

“Always a pleasure to have you, Stella,” Wooyoung gets out through gritted teeth.

The raven coos, almost mockingly back at him, making you laugh.

“Well, Stella,” you chuckle, noticing how a few of the others appear in the front foyer in the next second. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.”

Once again, she coos, but much fonder this time.

“Are all animals usually this friendly with you?” Yeosang inquires, nothing but curiosity reflected in his gaze.

“Most of the time,” you reply casually. “I don’t know what it is, but ever since I was small, they’ve always had an affinity towards me.”

A caw greets your ears, followed closely by a mewl as Kuroo makes an appearance from down the hallway. Instantly, Stella is taking off of your shoulder to circle the cat before landing gracefully on his back. Not that Kuroo seems to mind at all. In fact, he looks rather smug. Cheeky bastard.

Yeosang’s eyes shine, “I see.”

You look at him expectantly.

“They’re saying that you have a kind presence to you, so they’re drawn to it.” Jongho fills you in just as the remainder of his brothers enter the room.

You hum as you nod slightly in understanding, turning your attention to watch as Kuroo trots around happily with Stella on his back. That is, until Hongjoong is clearing his throat, then she’s quick to fly over to rest on his shoulder.

“We should be back in an hour or two,” he replies, meeting your gaze.

“We’ll try to be as quick as we can.” San assures you, drawing your attention to him in the next moment.

You nod your understanding once more.

“Okay, well, be careful,” you reply, eyes scanning over each and every one of them. “All of you.”

With a small smile, you’re turning around and heading back down the hallway, Kuroo in tow.

You fail to see the way they all turn to look at the eldest, who stands visibly frozen in his spot for the moment. Yunho manages to pull him out of his thoughts by clapping him once on the shoulder in the next second, the eight of them transporting themselves (and Stella) to their throne room.

Seonghwa cannot deny the way his heart swells, but this time, with hope. You looked at him again. Actually looked at him, with something other than disgust or disdain on your features. Perhaps things really are starting to get better. Little by little, he’ll make things right, no matter how long it takes.

Meanwhile, as they handle the urgent summons, you continue to make your way down the hallway and towards the music room. You figure there’s no time like the present, considering they won’t be around for a little while. At least you can play in peace.

Flicking on the lights, you notice Kuroo immediately making his way over to the large bay windows and hopping onto the window seat, laying down and making himself comfortable. You, on the other hand, walk over to the grand piano, an instrument of which you haven’t played in about two years.

You can still hear your sister’s words echoing in your mind as you open the lid, propping it on its stand as you walk over to the keys. Your hand gently brushes over the ivory before pulling out the bench and taking a seat.

Music has always been an escape for you, whether it be playing, or listening. Last time, when your depression got really bad, you found comfort in the familiar press of the keys, letting out all of your emotions and thoughts through the songs you would play, sometimes singing along in the privacy of your own home. Perhaps this time it will help, too.

Taking a deep breath, you raise your hands to begin to play.

For a full minutes, your fingers hover over the piano, eyes staring blankly over the top of the instrument as you blink. Despite the fact that you’re alone now, and you know that you’re alone, you’re still cautious of beginning. You’ve never really liked playing in front of other people as you got older, and only very specific people, like your friends and family have heard you play in more recent years. So, to say you’re a little nervous to touch the keys after so long would be an understatement.

Well, there’s no time like the present, so you might as well start with the piece you’ve been playing since you were small.

Closing your eyes briefly, you let the tips of your fingers rest on top of the ivory as you take another deep breath. A moment later, you begin to play.

The sound of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata slowly fills the air, and despite the few minor slip ups at first, either you rushing the timing or a wrong press of the keys, you begin to lose yourself to the music. One song blends into the next as you play a few classics that you’ve known since childhood, allowing the notes to surround you and offer you a comfort like they always have.

It’s one of the reasons hearing Yeosang play his violin for you meant so much, and even now, you cannot help but think back on that moment. Smiling to yourself, you look back down at the ivory keys below your hands, starting a new melody. One which you have not practiced in years.

It’s a little rough to start, considering it had been one of the newest songs you learned before being unable to play for quite some time, but once you get into the flow, you cannot help the way a giddy grin takes over your features.

Slowly, a medley of the Lord of the Rings soundtrack rings throughout the room, offering you comfort in your own way. A medley you had created yourself with all of your favourite songs from the movies. Each part flows into the next, and once you recall all of it, you find yourself sitting a little straighter in your seat, a pride swelling within your chest at the memories.

Though, nothing will ever mean as much to you, or sound quite like Yeosang performing Rohan’s melody for you on his violin. You don’t think you, or anything for that matter, could ever top that.

As soon as the medley finishes, you notice Kuroo staring at you from the window bench. His wide, golden eyes shine with nothing but curiosity and awe, causing your heart to warm in your chest.

“No tattling on me, now, okay?” You tease him lightly. “Especially not for the next few songs.”

A small coo is all you receive in response as he rests his head back onto his front paws.

“Also, if you don’t like my singing, that’s on you,” you chuckle, and you notice how his ears seem to perk up at this. “Fair warning, though: it’s been a while.”

Again, another soft coo greets your ears, almost as if he’s reassuring you. You smile.

“Let’s see,” you hum to yourself, “how did that one part go again?”

Briefly, you go over the bridge of the song, letting your memories resurface as you recall the melody. Once you do, you nod to yourself, starting at the very beginning.

The opening notes of Taemin’s Under My Skin begin to echo around the room. The familiar melody surrounds you like a warm embrace, feeling as if this song can perfectly describe your emotions at this time.

You open your mouth, and begin to sing.

With each lyric, your voice gets louder, stronger. It’s as if a piece of you that has been missing has finally returned, gaining confidence with every note that you hit. The emotions that you pour into your voice allow you to work through them, embracing every part of yourself and this situation as the meaning of the song overtakes your every sense.

With every word, with every note, you feel even better than before. Finally, you can release some of this stress, this pain holding onto your heart from over the past few weeks.

Before you know it, over an hour and a half has passed by with you getting lost in the music you create with the piano once more. It feels as if a weight has finally been lifted from your shoulders. With each passing second, you find more of yourself, grounding you once more to the person you are, the person that you have become, and the person you are always meant to be.

After another song, you pull out your phone. There’s one you have yet to learn the instrumental for that you’ve been meaning to, so you figure doing so now won’t be too bad. It’s not a difficult song by any means, so you’re sure you’ll be able to find either a basic outline for the sheet music online, or even if you listen to it enough times, you should be able to figure it out on your own. Besides, you feel as if this particular song relates quite well to your current situation, especially with Seonghwa.

That’s one thing that you’ve always been good at. If you listen to a song enough times, you’re usually able to distinguish which notes are being played, and copy the main melody enough for you to perform it.

Sure enough, not even twenty minutes later, you’ve taught yourself the song. It’s not very long, anyways, and from what you’ve leaned, it’s only really a few notes and chords. Well, here goes nothing.

Taking a deep breath, you begin to play from the very beginning.

The steady sound of a repeating, echoing note and its accompanying chords can be heard throughout the room as you lose yourself to the music once more. There’s a heaviness to your heart now as you begin to perform Bang Chan’s i hate to admit, voice sounding the slightest bit more strained as you allow your emotions to consume you.

Every thought you’ve had over the past three weeks surrounds you, coming through in the words you sing as tears begin to line your vision.

“I don’t know, I can’t give up on you,” you may not be in love with him yet, but that doesn’t mean your heart still cannot break. It’s the people that you care about that can always hurt you the most.

Your voice rings out throughout the room, and you notice Kuroo raise his head, staring at you with his wide, golden eyes.

You close your own as your first tear falls.

“I can’t stop thinking ‘bout you,” the steady press of your hands into the keys grounds you for the moment, the repetitive notes seemingly blending into one. “Just stay with me.”

The silent tears continue to fall down your cheeks, and you do whatever you can to not allow your emotions to fully control your voice for the moment. Unfortunately, it does not seem to be working, the final lines trembling as your voice drops to a near whisper.

“How could I forget?”

The next breath you take is shaky, your lips trembling as you slowly get out the final lines of the song.

“I might as well forget…”

The final notes ring out throughout the room, and you finally open your eyes. That’s when you notice, Kuroo isn’t looking at you, but at someone behind you.

The sound of someone falling to their knees echoes throughout the room. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is.

Wiping at your tears quickly, you swallow the remaining emotions in your throat. As much as you didn’t want to be overheard playing, or singing right now, you realize that you can use this opportunity to your advantage.

Before either of you two can say anything, your back straightens, and you’re beginning another song. You don’t want to face him right now, anyways. Besides, you don’t think that you can.

The gentle trickle of notes fill the air, and you find yourself not even worrying about if you’ll remember the entire melody or not. Each press of the keys is almost second nature, despite how long you’ve gone without playing this song.

It was one of your favourites, after all, especially when you had been going through some rough times. Though, now that you think about it, the meaning has significantly changed. Again, you cannot help but marvel at how fitting this song is for your current situation as you continue to play the introductory notes of Try by Pink.

Taking a deep breath as your lips part, you begin to sing.

You don’t know how many of them are in the room with you, or if it’s just him. Given how you seem to only feel one intense stare locked onto your back, you believe it’s just the two of you. Besides, Kuroo hasn’t taken his eyes off of him since he’s entered the room.

“Where there is desire, there is gonna be a flame,” you can hear the way his breath hitches behind you as you hit the first chorus. “Where there is a flame, someone’s bound to get burned.”

He holds his breath.

“But just because it burns doesn’t mean you’re gonna die,” your eyes close briefly. “You gotta get up and try, try, try.”

Your voice echoes around the room, and you notice a stillness unlike ever before settle around you as you continue on. You know you have his complete and utter attention. Especially as you sing the next line.

“Why do we fall in love so easy,” he doesn’t fail to miss the catch in your voice, “even when it’s not right?”

The second time you hit the chorus, you can feel the tears once again prickling at your eyes. They pool in the corners, and as soon as you blink, you can feel them begin to fall.

This song is for you as much as it is for him.

“Ever worry that it might be ruined,” your voice is much softer now, and it’s like you’re speaking directly to him, “and does it make you want to cry?”

You don’t even need to turn around to know that he’s just as much of a mess as you are right now. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest, and you do whatever you can to fight off the lingering emotions that threaten to choke you out at any second as the final chorus echoes throughout the room.

You can do this. You can make it through this. You’re almost there. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself. Though, you’re pretty sure as soon as you turn around to see his broken expression once more, you won’t be able to control your emotions any longer.

“You gotta get up and try, try, try,” your voice is the softest it’s even been as your eyes fall shut. “Gotta get up and try, try, try.”

The final notes ring out through the room, and your hands fall into your lap. All you can do is stare at the keys in front of you as that still silence settles around the both of you. The only sounds you can hear are his muffled sobs, and your uneven breathing.

Taking a deep breath, you steady your nerves. Wiping at your tears with the back of your hand, you slowly turn around to face him while still sitting on the bench. Sure enough, you see him on his knees, about halfway between you and the open doorway.

Of all the previous times you’ve seen him cry in front of you, never has the eldest looked so broken. There is a deep sorrow held within his gaze as he stares into your eyes, fresh tears trailing down his face. His hands tremble as they hang limply at his sides, palms facing upwards in your direction in a display of utmost surrender and submission.

Painfully, Seonghwa’s heart squeezes. The worst suffocating feeling that he’s ever felt in his entire life surrounds his entire chest as he continues to stare at you, sobs wracking his entire body the longer you go without saying anything.

So badly does he want to hope, but he doesn’t think he’ll survive that loss if it turns out to be false.

You swallow your emotions for the moment as you meet his gaze.

“Give me an hour or two, and once we’ve both calmed down,” you stand from your spot, “then, we can talk.”

Seonghwa can only nod his head vigorously, worried that if he opens his mouth all that will escape him will be a choked sob. Still, he cannot deny the way his breath catches, no longer being able to stop that glimmer of hope from shining within his gaze.

Without another word, you walk passed him and out of the room.

You don’t come across any of the others on your way back to your own room, and for that, you’re grateful. You can still tell they’re around, hearing sound coming from both the home theatre, and game room as you pass by. The fact that they’re being respectful enough not to swarm you for the moment helps to warm your heart as you wipe at your lingering tears once more.

Making it back to your room, you shut the door behind you once you step inside, leaving it open only the slightest crack incase Kuroo decides to join you later. You could really go for a nice warm bath right now; you just need to calm down for a bit and relax.

An hour later, you find yourself sitting in the exact same chaise you were in the previous evening. This time, you sit crossed legged as you gaze out into the desert before you.

The stars glimmer like jewels in the sky above, and a gentle breeze caresses your heated skin. Kuroo sits on the railing of your balcony, tail swishing behind him as he looks out over the space in front of the both of you. Silently, he keeps you company, standing guard and offering you comfort in his own way.

Again, the balcony doors rest wide open behind you, but you’ve opted to keep the door to your room closed for now. You doubt he’ll use the door anyways, once you call for him. Besides, you do not wish to be disturbed.

Letting out a sigh, you close your eyes.

For the next half an hour, you calm your mind.

Occasionally, you have used meditation to help you relax, and you find yourself leaning into those few times that you have, recalling the breathing exercises that you’ve used previously that have worked before, and using them now.

Taking a deep, steady breath in, you open your eyes.

Finally, you are ready to talk to Seonghwa.

The very moment you brush up against that royal blue string within your mind, Seonghwa is beside you in a second. His hands pause halfway in buttoning up his shirt, and you notice his hair is damp. He must have just gotten out of the shower.

The soft call of your name from his lips has you meeting his gaze, even if only briefly.

“Sit,” you motion to the chair beside you. “We have a lot to discuss."

Instantly, he’s in the seat beside yours, sorrowful gaze locked onto your figure. From the corner of your eyes, you can see how bloodshot his own are, and you can just tell he’s probably been crying for a lot longer than you have been.

A moment of silence passes over the both of you as you stare forward, and out into the desert.

“Would you like to go first, or should I?” You pose the question gently, forearms resting over your knees.

You hear him take a deep, shaky breath in.

“Whatever would make you more comfortable.” Comes his soft reply.

You nod your head only once, slowly at that.

“Alright,” you blink, eyes transfixed on the way Kuroo’s tail continues to swish back and forth over the railing in front of you. “Then I would like to hear what you have to say.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and you recognize this as him collecting his thoughts.

“I-“ he begins, before stopping short, staring at his intertwined hands as he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I have no greater regret than the pain my words have caused you. I promised you that I would never speak to you in such a manner again, and I broke that promise to you. I swore I would never hurt you, yet that’s all I seem to be doing.”

Taking a deep breath, he swallows the sudden dryness in his throat as he keeps his voice low.

“I find that I never know how to control myself around you: my emotions, my actions, my words.” His fingers tighten around each other. “I know it’s no excuse for how I acted. I let my fear control me that day. I let it control my anger, which subsequently controlled my words. It was misdirected, and unacceptable on my part. I took it out on you, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

Looking up, he meets your gaze, and you see fresh tears lining his eyes.

“I will spend every day of the rest of our lives making this up to you; proving to you how sincere I am is the only thing on my mind. I cannot live without you; you’ve more than proved your point.” He continues lowly. “You’re right. I could never just get over losing you. You mean too much to me.”

This time, it’s your turn to swallow the sudden dryness in your throat. You had only thought he had heard you the other day, but this just confirms it.

“Losing you is my greatest fear,” his voice catches, as if the mere thought of it is simply too much for him to bear. At the way his eyes shine with a newfound horror, you know that it is. “Seeing you bleeding out like that, with- with-“ his whole body begins to tremble as he squeezes his eyes shut, the first of his tears falling as the memory consumes him once more, “with arrows piercing your back terrified me. I thought-“ he rubs his face with his hands, taking a deep breath to attempt to calm himself as his eyes remain closed for the moment. “When I saw you hunched over like that, I thought you were dead.”

Your expression falls as you watch his whole body tremble before you.

“All I could think was that it was my fault. I couldn’t protect you. I failed you.” He chokes on his breath. “Then, you moved, and all I could think about was that you could die at any moment. The fact that you seemed to care so little for your own life drove me insane.” He takes another shaky breath in as he meets your gaze. “How could you not realize how precious you are? Not just to me, but to all of us?”

You remain quiet, allowing him to finish his own thoughts for the moment as he looks back down at his intertwined hands.

“Seeing you laying there on the table, bleeding out with that damned poison running through your veins only made it worse. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and all I could do was blame myself for ever letting you get in harms way,” he says, eyes falling shut once more. “I couldn’t help but to think that maybe, if I had just suggested doing something else, or even if I had just kept my mouth shut, you wouldn’t be greeting death like an old friend right in front of my very eyes. You would have never been in danger. You would have never gotten hurt.”

“And then to hear you say that,” his whole body tenses. “To hear you brushing everything off as if you were fine, and that you weren’t minutes away from death had me terrified. How could you be so calm? Why would you use your energy to reassure us when you could collapse at any moment? Were you not worried for yourself?”

“So, I got angry. Angry at the lack of care you seemed to have for yourself. Angry at the way you seemed to not want us to worry about you, despite everything going on. Angry that you would seemingly be okay with throwing away your own life, and not recognizing how important you are to us. To me.” He blinks, shifting his gaze to meet your own once more. “I wasn’t angry that you protected a child. I was angry at the fact that you got hurt protecting a child when I was supposed to be the one protecting you.”

“I never meant a word I said to you, and I have regretted them ever since,” he stares deeply into your eyes, tears falling from his own. “I had no right to speak to you how I did. I had no right to allow my fear to control my anger like that, and take it out on you. You are not stupid, and you most certainly are not a burden. You never were, and you never will be.”

You swallow thickly.

“I hate knowing that I ever made you feel that way,” his voice trembles, and suddenly, he can no longer meet your gaze. “I made those voices return. I did that to you.” His whole body begins to shake as more tears escape his eyes as he squeezes them shut once more, hands coming up to tangle in his hair. “I’m sorry.” He chokes on a sob. “I’m so, unbelievably sorry.”

“From the bottom of my heart, and with everything that I am,” meeting your gaze right now is the hardest thing he’s ever done in his entire life as a shame unlike any other washes over him, “I sincerely apologize for everything that I have done that has hurt you.”

“There is no greater regret in my entire life knowing that I’ve ruined everything, and I will spend however long it takes making it up to you. I will never stop wanting to make things right. I am so, deeply in love with you, that I cannot survive without you.”

You stretch out your legs in front of you, turning your body to sit on the edge of the chaise as you face him fully.

“So, please-“ he falls to his knees, scared that you’re about to up and leave him again for the time being as he reaches across to you, hands clinging desperately onto your sides as he collapses on top of your thighs. “Please, do whatever you want with me. Hate me. Yell at me. Hit me until you are satisfied. Just whatever you do, please don’t go back to ignoring me.” More tears spill down his cheeks as he inhales a shaky breath, voice muffled as he presses his face further into you. “I don’t know if I can survive that.”

A moment of silence settles over the both of you as he sobs into your stomach, arms coming to wrap around your torso as he clings onto you for dear life. You say nothing, opting to take a deep breath in to steady your nerves.

Only, Seonghwa perceives it as a disappointed sigh, sobbing harder into you as he tightens his grip around your waist.

“Please,” he begs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, My Divine, please-“

Like a broken record, Seonghwa keeps repeating those few words to you, pleading desperately for you not to go. To not leave him, or go back to ignoring him. He wants you to know how sincere he is in both his words and actions, knowing that he would even cut his own beating heart out of his chest as long as it meant your happiness.

“Seonghwa,” the way you breathe his name sets a whole new round of sobs wracking his chest. The moment he feels your hand come up to begin threading your fingers through his hair, his whole body begins to shake. “You didn’t ruin everything. You did not ruin anything.”

His whole chest shakes with the weight of his sobs, and you can feel him pressing his fingers harder into the skin of your back. Almost as if he’s grounding himself to you in this moment, like you may slip through his grasp. As if to prove to himself that this is real.

“I appreciate your honesty,” you say, continuing to softly thread your fingers through his hair in comfort. “Now, are you ready for mine?”

Again, he nods vigorously against your stomach, eyes squeezing shut as he prepares himself for the worst.

You take a deep breath in.

“First of all, I would like to apologize to you-“

“My Divine, you have no reason to apologize to me-“

“I have just as much reason to apologize to you when I purposely hurt you in the same ways that I got upset at you for hurting me.” You reply.

He remains quiet.

“I was frustrated, and upset,” you continue, staring straight ahead as you feel him shift his gaze to stare up at you for the moment.

“You had every right to be.”

“That doesn’t make what I said okay, Hwa,”

He cannot help the way his heart stutters a beat in his chest. You called him Hwa again.

“I didn’t mean it. I want you to know that,” your fingers still in his hair. “I was being my typical, extremely hypocritical self, and I knew it. Yet, I still said it to hurt you.”

You take a moment to pause.

“I-“ you exhale a long breath through your nose. “It’s the people that we care about the most that can shatter us the quickest.”

His breath hitches.

“The reason, Seonghwa, that I broke down the way I did after what you said to me is because I care.” You swallow the sudden dryness in your throat as you feel him go completely still in your grip. “I care about you. All of you, and every logical part of me tells me that I shouldn’t, given the circumstances, but I still do. I have never had someone treat me, let alone desire me as you all do, and if I’m being honest with myself, it fucking terrifies me.”

Finally, you spare a glance down into his eyes, and you notice his wide gaze staring completely captivated by you for the moment.

“It terrifies me because, selfishly, I do not want to lose any of it.” Your voice drops to a mere whisper, as if ashamed of what you’re admitting to him at this very moment. “I have gone through most of my life with those voices in my head telling me that I am not good enough. I have never believed anyone could ever want me, let alone love me as unconditionally as you all do. I have always believed that I’ve had to earn people’s affection, lest they see me as a burden.”

Fresh tears spring to your eyes as you attempt to keep your voice from shaking.

“I-“ your voice catches in your throat. “I have always felt alone because I never wanted to burden others with my problems, or my presence. It’s gotten better over the past few years, but-“ you swallow, averting your gaze to the side to see Kuroo already staring as intently at you as Seonghwa is. You close your eyes. “That is not the first time I have almost greeted death like an old friend.”

Seonghwa’s reaction is immediate, that same fear flashing in his eyes as he’s instantly sitting on the chaise beside you and pulling you into his arms. Your head rests on his chest as his one hand comes to support the back of your head, cradling you to him gently.

A tear lands on your cheek that is not your own as your hand clings desperately to the material of his shirt.

“After my sister lost her child, I can’t count the amount of times I found her close to her own death,” you whisper, afraid that if the words are any louder, your voice may crack. “I blamed myself each and every time. How could I not notice the signs? I wasn’t there for her enough when she needed me. Not to mention how those voices just made everything worse. I was useless, stupid, and my family was already stretched thin enough with my sister that I couldn’t burden them with my own problems. Mine seemed trivial in comparison, anyways. If I didn’t even care about myself, why should they?”

You can feel his grip tighten around you, pulling you closer into his chest.

“My own death does not scare me, but seeing that same fear I know has always been reflected on my own face paint itself over my sister’s features when she found me terrified me unlike anything before.” The first of your tears begin to fall. “To this day, I am the biggest hypocrite I know. I made her promise me that she would continue living, to continue fighting, and I couldn’t even keep that same promise to her.”

“That’s when we both swore to each other that we would get through this together, and we did.” Your eyes fall shut. “To this day, she was the only one that knew, and I cannot help but still think about if she didn’t find me that day, or if I didn’t find her all those times first. So, of course I’m going to prioritize someone else’s life over mine, especially if that someone is a child. I know the effects first hand of what losing one could mean. Besides, my life will never be as important as someone else’s.”

Seonghwa goes so still that you swear he’s stopped breathing.

“Do you-“ he swallows his emotions, throat going dry, “do you really believe that?” His chest tightens, heart squeezing painfully as another tear falls from his eye. “Do you really believe that your life is worth less than someone else’s?”

Your lips part briefly with a response before you promptly shut them. Your silence speaks volumes.

Then, you’re uttering the words that break Seonghwa’s heart anew this evening, voice barely above a whisper, “It always has been.”

“My Divine,” he chokes on a sob, “you must know that that’s not true. Not even in the slightest.”

You remain silent.

“Please,” he practically whimpers, “you have to realize that your life is just as important as, if not more important than anyone else’s.”

“I understand that I should realize that, and I do at times,” you reply softly. “It’s just when it comes down to it, I cannot help but prioritize others over me. If I can save others from pain, I would rather take it all than see someone I care about get hurt.”

“But what about how we feel when we see you in pain?” His whole body shakes, grip tightening once more around your body. “Do you not realize how that hurts us?”

“I realize that now,” you respond earnestly. “Believe me, I do.”

“Then why-“

“I have gone my whole life following this mentality, Seonghwa. You cannot expect me to change a fundamental part of who I am just like that,” you sigh. “My insecurities are every bit a part of me as my confidence, just as my depression is every bit a part of me as my happiness. Some days are better than others, and I can reason with myself. Other times, the voices win. I can manage them a lot better now, but my biggest insecurity, my biggest fear is always at the back of my mind. It’s why I cannot go back there again.”

You can tell he wants to ask. So badly does he want to know, to be able to comfort you and reassure you in every and any way he can. Only, you’re speaking before he gets a chance to.

“Listen, Seonghwa,” you let out another sigh, “I know you want to know, and I’m always a strong believer in reciprocating vulnerability when it is shown to me. However, this is a part of me that I am not ready to share with any of you yet. It’s not an easy subject for me to talk about with anybody, and I don’t readily do so often. I need you to understand though, that it’s not because I do not trust you. I do trust you, Seonghwa. I trust all of you. I trust you all with my life. I am simply not ready to share such a part of me with any of you yet.”

“I want you to know, though, that there is a reason I always reply with ‘I believe you’ to you all.” You tell him. “As much as that phrase if for you, it’s also for me as well.”

“I understand, My Divine.” You feel him nod against your head. “I understand.”

“Thank you,” you breathe, feeling a small weight lifting off of your shoulders. Then, after a moment, you add, “for everything.”

He blinks, squeezing you tighter to his chest as he places his lips onto the top of your head. Allowing his eyes to flutter shut, Seonghwa inhales deeply, breathing in your scent and revelling in this moment here with you.

“Of course, My Divine,” he mumbles against the top of your head. “I love you, and I will always care for you. Even if I don’t always know how to properly express it sometimes.”

You chuckle at that, lips twitching upwards in the corners. “I believe you.”

You can feel him smile against you, whole body nearly relaxing until you feel him stiffen beneath your hold.

“I, uh,” he stammers, shifting slightly as his grip loosens around your body, “I did it again, didn’t I?”

“Did what?” You quirk a brow, tilting your head up to look at him as you wipe at your dried tears with the back of your hand.

“This,” he replies, eyes flicking down to your form wrapped in his embrace as he chews on his bottom lip.

You chuckle, “Hwa, if I didn’t want to be held, or even touched by you, I would have told you to get off of me a long time ago.”

“Oh,” his lips part slightly in mild surprise, a bashful smile stretching across his features. “This is okay, then?”

Really, it warms your heart more than you care to admit that he’s taking the time to consider your comfortability right now after everything.

“Of course,” you nod slightly. “Though, can we lay down, my back is getting kind of stiff-“

Instantly, you’re laying down in the chaise, his arms wrapped securely around your body as he holds you to his chest.

The giggle that you release is music to his ears.

“Someone’s eager,” you tease, curling yourself further into him to make yourself more comfortable.

“I will not lie to you, My Divine,” his voice is a bit breathless as he replies to you, ‘I have been fantasizing about holding you in my arms for quite a long time.”

“Well, if it wasn’t obvious before,” you smile faintly, hearing the way his heart begins to race within his chest, “you may stay. At least, for a little while.”

“I promise you I won’t fuck things up this time,” he responds earnestly.

“You better not,” you tease him, poking at his chest quite firmly with your finger and noticing once more how not all of his buttons have been done up. “Next time, I definitely won’t be as forgiving.”

His breath hitches in his throat, eyes shining as he looks down at you in his arms, noticing how you’re already staring up at him with a knowing look.

“You mean…?”

“Yes, Mars,” you hum, and you feel his whole body go still beneath you. “I forgive you.”

“I-“ he blinks, swallowing the sudden dryness in his throat. “Are you sure?”

“Do you not want me to forgive you?” Your brow quirks as you continue to stare up at him.

“Of course I do, I just-“

“Do you think I would perform for just anyone, Mars?” You tilt your head slightly as you smile up at him softly. “It will have to be an effort on both of our parts, but I am willing to try if you are.”

Once more, his lips are back on the top of your head, gracing the skin of your forehead as he presses you as close to his body as he can. A soft rumble shakes his chest, and you already know his answer without him saying it.

“Thank you,” his voice is raw, strained from the intense emotions he’s feeling in this very moment. Gratitude, happiness, but more than all of that, love floods his veins as he holds you to him. “My Divine, thank you.”

Slowly, your one hand slides beneath the opening of his shirt to rest directly over his heart, feeling the way it thunders beneath your touch as a pleasant shiver caress his spine. You meet his gaze, fresh tears shining in his eyes as you smile up at him softly.

“I swear to you I will not let you down,” nothing but sincerity is reflected in his fond gaze as he stares deeply into your eyes.

“I believe you,” you hum, settling back against him with your head on his chest.

A small silence surrounds the both of you, and you notice Kuroo looking back out at the desert once more. His tail swishes languidly as he sits, perched on the railing of your balcony as you are more than content to rest in Seonghwa’s arms for the moment. You even go so far as to gently rub your thumb against the skin of his chest, loving the way you can feel his heart still racing beneath the palm of your hand.

A pleasant shiver runs up his spine.

“My Divine, you must know how such a simple touch from you tests my every last bit of control,” his voice rumbles out, the subtle hints of a growl to his tone.

You giggle. “Then, I guess we’re even.”

You can tell your words catch him by surprise at the way he says nothing in response.

“You’re the one who showed up tonight looking like this,” you emphasize your words by trailing your hand a little further along his chest, causing his shirt to fall open the slightest bit more. “Not to mention you smell incredible.”

Taking another deep breath, your eyes flutter shut, practically moaning as the scent of mahogany teakwood invades your every sense.

“Nothing is more attractive to me than someone who both looks and smells nice,” you sigh wistfully, a smile tugging onto your lips.

Seonghwa cannot deny the way his whole body heats at your words, a low growl building in his chest as your praise washes over him. Finally, he’s done something right.

Now, if only he could cover you in him. Oh, how he longs for the day where he can absolutely drench you in his scent, and him in you.

“I always live to please you,” his voice rumbles out, low and sultry as his eyes hood over.

You do not fail to catch the double meaning of his words.

“All in due time, Seonghwa,” you chuckle, a grin to your lips as you settle against him. Your eyelids flutter shut. “All in due time.”

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