#warnings: pining

[tendebill]

the world's greatest actor animatic for stanley pines :]

(song by Milk In The Microwave)

finally done with this!!! im not 100% happy with the final result but overall i like how it turned out :D this took about two weeks (?) of work with some breaks

[typona]

I couldn't get this scene out of my head after reading the book!

[urfavoritemistake]

alex hirsch showed off the pitch bible for tbob in this talk and this part is making me go crazy

1. mabel's brain being so chaotic bill considered suicide

2. soos and waddles being considered pines as they should be

3. "the mind bill knows best. pure ego. putty in bill's hands."

[pisstorymuseum]

dyou guys ever think about memory gun standoffs between them bc i dont

[deoboyznet]

heads up! check out duckie's new fic! pls remember to reblog as always <3

ON THE BRIGHT SIDE

nonidol!eric sohn x gn!reader

you can't figure out why eric's been acting different, but maybe you had nothing to worry about in the first place.

8.2k words, bffs2l, college au, reader is incredibly oblivious, swearing, pining, flirting, kissing, mentions of organic chemistry (yuck), eric sohn, fluff, one really bad that's what he said joke (sorry it was chenle), mentions of alcohol

a/n: to @mosviqu !! (requests are closed) hope you like this one, beloved :')) thanks for waiting

A midnight pool party wasn't exactly what you had in mind when you told your friends that you had just gotten off of work. You'd thought they were just having a game night at another friend's house, but it turned out, they decided to utilize said friend's massive backyard space, including his heated pool lined with LED lights at the bottom.

"Who the hell has LED lights at the bottom of their pool?" You voiced aloud in the car.

Ningning's voice wrapped around you from the full volume of your phone's speaker, "My friend from middle school and the one who got us into Yangyang's party the other night—Zhong Chenle. You remember him, right? We went to high school with him, too."

You definitely remembered him. How could you not? He had the most subtly rich personality you'd ever come across. You once thought he was wearing a regular, white Hanes T-shirt from the store (the ones that came in a six pack from Costco), but it turned out that it was a two hundred dollar Balenciaga top.

It was literally just a white shirt.

"Yeah, so we're just here with him and some of his friends," Ningning continued on. You could hear the sounds of merriment in the background, including music and bodies crashing into the pool.

You pulled up to your apartment complex, and it took a second for you to gather your belongings and scramble out of the car. You squeezed your phone between your ear and shoulder as you bumped the car door closed with your hip. "Who's there again? I know you and Winter, but specifically…"

"Uhhh—besides Chenle, there's Renjun, Yangyang, Sungchan, and Eric."

As you let yourself into the apartment, you paused. “Wait, Eric's back?”

There was a commotion on the other side and for a moment, you didn't hear what Ningning said. Then she returned to the speaker with a giggle in her voice, “Yn! We're playing Monopoly soon, but I'm only playing if you're coming over—oh shit, did you say something just now?”

You chuckled, dumping your bag on the kitchen counter and just barely stopping yourself from slumping over like your work bag. “I just asked if Eric was back. I thought you just said he was there with you all.”

“Oh yeah! He said he got back from LA a few hours ago. I don't know how he's not severely jetlagged, but you know what? He brought booze.”

“Sounds like Eric,” you mused. You wondered why he hadn't told you he was back in town. You thought he wouldn't be taking off until tomorrow morning, so that was when you were expecting him.

“—so?”

“Hm?”

“You coming over?”

“Yeah, yeah give me a few.”

One cup of crappy coffee and a change of clothes later, you arrived in front of Chenle's house just a fifteen minute drive from your complex. It was gated and tucked away, which made sense as to why they were able to make so much noise. You could hear the music out from the driveway.

Ningning emerged from the shadows of the side entrance to the house. Her eyes lit up at the sight of you. "Ahh, Yn! I'm so glad you're finally here," she squealed and skipped over to you in her flip-flops, wrapping her arms around you in a big hug. Your friend was dressed in a pretty, bandeau bikini top and bottom, her inky black hair falling down her shoulders like the flow of a waterfall.

You laughed as she pulled away. "Glad I could make it. Are we just going through the side gate or something?"

She nodded and guided you through the foliage. "Yeah. How was work?"

You figured that after your long shift, you probably wouldn't have much energy to actually go swimming. You'd changed into a bathing suit anyway and threw a T-shirt and shorts over it in case, but had arrived with little more than your wallet, keys, and lip gloss.

You gave her a shrug in reply. "Eh. It's work," you said, your voice barely loud enough to hear over the sound of water splashing and high-pitched shrieks. "It was quiet, at least."

"That's good," she nodded with a soft smile thrown over her shoulder. "Thank god you're finally here. Chenle decided he didn't wanna get his limited edition Jade Rabbit Monopoly board wet—” She gave an indulgent eye roll, “—but his game, his decision, I guess.”

You chimed in your agreement just as you and Ningning emerged on the side of the backyard that hosted your friends and their midnight pool party. From your vantage, you could count the heads present, including one Yangyang making a splash into the pool and getting water all over Renjun.

“Yn!” Winter raised a hand from where she sat cross-legged on a lounge chair.

“Yo, what's up, Yn?” Sungchan hollered from the side of the pool where the speaker was. He was fiddling around with whoever's phone was connected to the aux cord.

You grinned, greeting everyone with a big wave. “Hey, guys. Have you been out here for long?”

“Yangyang, I swear to—” Renjun's swear cut through the music to the symphony of Yangyang's screeching of absolute delight. The former brushed his wet hair back, rubbing the pool water out of his eyes. It wasn't until afterward that he greeted you back as you neared where he had been dragged into the pool by his friend. “Hi, Yn. Did you just get here?”

“I did! Where's—”

The back door to the house slid open and Chenle emerged dragging out a massive cooler of what you assumed to be drinks. Carrying the back end was Eric in a pair of dampened board shorts with his wet bangs hanging in his eyes.

“Eric Sohn! You're not supposed to be here until tomorrow morning, you poser!” You shouted in his direction.

Chenle and Eric's heads both whipped over toward where you and Ningning were. Chenle said something to Eric with a wide-ass monkey grin, then proceeded to drag the cooler the rest of the way without Eric's help.

Eric cupped the back of his neck sheepishly as he approached you. He must have recently gotten out of the pool, because there was still water dripping down the lines of his chest and stomach. “In my defense, the airline offered me money if I took an earlier flight,” he said with a laugh.

“As your certified best friend,” you mused, “I'm offended I wasn't the first to know about this update.”

“Okay, best friend, let me hug you to make up for it.”

Your eyes widened, “Eric, you're wet—”

“That's what he said!” Chenle howled with laughter at his own joke, and Ningning groaned in anguish.

“Okay and?” Before you could protest any more, he trapped you in his arms, pressing his dampened skin against your perfectly dry outer garments. For good measure, he nuzzled his wet hair against the side of your face, too.

“You're like—like a dog,” you laughed, playfully pushing him away.

Eric beamed and placed his hands on his hips. “Golden retriever to your black cat. Now, do I have to dump you in that pool myself or are you going to like swimming tonight?”

Your face pressed into a deadpanning line, which drew an even brighter sound from him. You couldn't help but smile; it was nice to have him back. “You're so annoying sometimes. I'm sitting on the edge of the pool only, and you can suck it.”

As you began making your way over to the edge of the pool, Eric trailed after you with his head shaking and a laugh lingering on his tongue. “Missed you, Yn.”

It was a good thing you were facing away from him right then. A smile split your face like a slice of watermelon. “Missed you, too, Sohn.”

You didn't see your friends again until the following Friday evening. It wasn't late enough to call it “night” nor early enough to call it “afternoon.” It was a timestamp somewhere in the middle when the sun had yet to decide if it would hide behind the buildings or peer through the alleyways. It was also when the Korean BBQ place in the university district was relatively bare, and so you and your friends could get away with scoring the big table in the back on the raised platform.

“I feel like a king,” Chenle said with a smile on his face as he breathed in the smell of beef on the grill.

Sungchan flipped over one of the pieces of chicken with his tongs. “Wait, so Yn, they're for real making you work the Friday night closing shift?”

All eyes turned toward your end of the table where you sat with Eric on your right, and Ningning and Winter across from you.

Your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked, your dominant hand pausing your chopstick movements. “Oh, uh, yeah… I mean,” you added with a shrug, “it's not so bad most of the time. I think I would rather have me working than one of the kids.” The store you worked at was relatively understaffed, and your manager oftentimes hired high schoolers from the nearby district to fill in the spaces. There were rare occasions where rowdy customers came in during the latter hours of the night, and you would rather your younger colleagues didn't have to worry about that. (Even if you yourself also worried about rowdy customers.)

“Do you at least get a closing shift bonus?” Winter asked, her cheek stuffed with her last bite. “When I worked part-time at the corner store last year, they at least incentivized closing.”

“Usually when I work alone, yeah,” you said.

Eric's left arm came to rest over the back of your chair as he leaned forward to transfer a slab of short rib to your bowl. “Are you working alone tonight?” He asked, reaching past you to grab a piece of cucumber from one of the metal bowls of side dishes.

You placed the cucumbers between the two of you temporarily so he could have easier access. “I think so,” you said. “Unless my manager recruited someone else, but yeah, I think it'll probably just be me.”

The rest of the table turned to their individual conversations, especially as one of the waiters brought over an additional platter of meats to grill.

Eric murmured to you, “What if I just happened to show up at your work tonight?”

You turned your body slightly to face him, mutual smiles curling onto both of your mouths. “What, need a new first aid kit or something?”

“And a little dose of Yn Ln,” he said before popping a slice of fish cake into his mouth. He was still leaning in close to you, the twinkle in his eyes like a secret only you two knew. You were trying to not let the skin peeking out of his tank top throw you off balance; it was definitely just the heat and steam that made it glisten.

Your eyebrows shot up at his remark. “You're getting plenty of me now.”

“I need to make up for when I was away,” he replied as easy as it was for him to drink water. “I told you, I missed you.”

It was the fire from the grill, the heat of the room, the smell of the food. It was not Eric Sohn making your skin hot or your heart trip—at least, that was what you told yourself. He was attractive, yes, and he was one of your best friends. He was flirty, double yes, but he was still just a friend. (Right?) “Did you breathe too much LA air?” You joked half-heartedly. “You're acting… different.”

He shoved his bite into his cheek and gave you a shrug. “I think I'm acting exactly how I should be,” he said with a quirk of his eyebrows, then tuning into whatever topic Renjun had brought up—something about a party at Han Jisung's house.

Your head tilted to the side in dumbfoundment, but you returned to the rest of the group even if your brain was rewinding that conversation over and over again in your head. What did he mean that he was acting exactly how he should be?

For a moment, you turned back to look at him. His head was so close to yours, his body scooted forward on his chair to close that distance between his legs and yours. You couldn't read him—could only see the mirth in his eyes from Chenle and Renjun going back and forth in Chinese, as if he could understand. You weren't sure what you were looking for.

He glanced over at you then to meet your eyes. It was a split second, but that was enough to alter your brain chemistry, that you were sure his eyes flickered down to your lips. Then his eyes were away from you, having never dared a look at all.

It was about three hours later that you found yourself stationed behind the front counter at the store you worked at. After six, usually the crowd dwindled down when everyone was out having dinner or curled up at home for the night.

That left you with a few options to occupy the time. With the aisles less than crowded, you could hook your phone up to the overhead speaker and bop your head while stocking up the aisles. While Wednesdays were the main inventory days, some of that work spilled into Thursdays and Fridays depending on how much was delivered and who was on the schedule.

You were sorting through the candy aisle checking for expired dates when you heard the jingle of the bell above the front door. “Hi, welcome in!” You hollered from over the aisle, then broke into a smile at the sight of a familiar Los Angeles Angels baseball cap.

Eric tracked your voice and joined you in the aisle you were in, his tank top from earlier swapped out for a dark colored T-shirt under a corduroy jacket. He must have not wanted to come in clothes that reeked of food. “Hey you,” he said, walking over to ruffle your hair.

“Aye,” you chided half-heartedly and reached up to smooth out the hair on top of your head. “I didn't think you were being serious about stopping by,” you mused. You squeezed your hand to reach for the bars of chocolate at the far back. When you examined them and determined that they had reached the shelf expiration date, you dumped them into the shopping basket at your feet to be logged later.

“Of course I was being serious,” he huffed while perusing the bags of gummy candies hanging in the section next to you.

“Those are pretty good.” You pointed out a brand of lesser known gummies shaped like whale sharks. They had adorable, little smiles, but when they got damaged or melted… it was less adorable and less smile-looking. But they were nice and snackable, nonetheless.

He hummed in consideration and plucked a bag off the hanger. “How many of these brands have you tried?”

“Like… five or six,” you said. “I just kind of mark it as a store expense, and then me and the other person on shift share it.”

He chuckled, a smile flitting over his lips after examining the back of the bag. “Wanna share these with me?”

“Sure, man.”

That was how you found yourself at the front counter across from Eric, a bag of whale shark gummies split open between you. You had the store's to-do list binder open and were checking off the items you'd completed, all the while popping a poor whale shark into your mouth. Eric had found interest in one of the celebrity magazines displayed on the rack by the door.

It had so far been a slow night with very few customers coming in to grab a last minute case of beer or condoms. All the usual shit. However, time flew past a lot faster with Eric keeping you company. Even though the conversation you'd had with him at dinner earlier lingered in the back of your mind, it was quickly forgotten as he filled your time talking about LA, plans for the summer, and whatever you were up to while he was gone.

As midnight fast approached, the gummy sharks were finished and you whipped out the broom to begin cleaning up.

Eric idly scrolled through your phone to choose a song, skipping one after the other. “Can I help clean up or anything?” He asked after settling on a Dominic Fike song.

“Just sit still and look pretty,” you teased as you swept some dust and debris into a dustpan.

He smiled to himself. “That should be your job.”

There went your heart again, but thank god you were turned away from him. “Unfortunately, I don't get paid for that.”

“How much do you want?”

You turned your head over your shoulder to look at him, and he sent you a cheeky grin. You laughed loud at the ridiculousness, then returned to sweeping the aisle you were in. “You’re so stupid,” you said playfully. You didn't mean it… sort of. He was stupidly smooth, stupidly pretty, stupidly—

Eric grabbed the dustpan to trail after you. “Damn, I call you pretty and you call me stupid?”

“What if stupid is a compliment?”

“When is it ever a compliment?”

Despite the banter, the two of you were both beaming at each other in the lowlight. In no time, you had the entire store swept clean (for the most part), and you went to tuck the broom and dustpan into the back room. The clock struck just about midnight, too, and you swung the ring of keys around your index finger, your bag hanging off your shoulder.

Eric glanced up from where he had his nose buried in his phone screen. “Ready?” He asked, perking up like a golden retriever.

“Yep.” You stopped behind the counter to clock out. “Thanks for keeping me company, Eric. I really appreciate it.”

“Hey, what are f—” His voice broke for a second, and you sent him a look. He cleared his throat, “What are friends for?”

You finished clocking out on the computer, then slipped out from behind the counter and moved toward where Eric was. “Is that what we are?” You jested in reply.

His eyes went wide for a second. “What?”

Your head cocked to the side quizzically. “Is that what we are? Friends?” You repeated. When he still looked dumbfounded, you grimaced, “Was that lame? Yeah, that was lame. Let's just forget about that.”

You stepped toward the front door, but Eric placed a hand on your upper arm to stop you.

“Wait, Yn—”

You stopped with a hum in your throat, head turned back toward him. The two of you stood slightly closer now. Beneath the dim fluorescents, between the cold medicine and magazine rack, you searched this man's eyes for an answer he wasn't giving you. You could measure the length of his eyelashes from this distance, and you saw the shine mark on his lips after his tongue darted out to wet it.

“Eric?” You voiced quietly after he hadn't said anything. “Everything okay?”

Something shuddered in his expression and you swore his cheeks darkened in shade. “Nothing,” he said swiftly. “Sorry, it's nothing.”

Eric sat down across from you with a pair of headphones hanging around his neck and his hood thrown over his head. He nudged his black-rimmed glasses up his nose as he powered his laptop on. “Hey,” he whispered to you, his eyes darting around to make sure no one around you was bothered by his speaking.

The two of you were situated in the upper levels of your university library to study for your upcoming final exams. Most of the libraries on campus had a system in place where lower levels were meant as collaborative spaces with each level getting quieter in general volume. You and Eric were on the top floor, but at one of the desks tucked into one of the bookshelves. There were a few people around you, but they were hidden by walls and shelves, for the most part.

“I think you're fine,” you whispered to him in amusement as you uncapped your highlighter to mark a specific passage in the text you were reading.

Eric got up and quietly moved his chair to sit adjacent to you, rather than across from you. “What're you working on?”

“Just some research for a paper,” you replied. “You?”

“O-chem,” he said, and his entire being flopped over his closed laptop, his face crumpled in anguish.

You cooed silently and gently patted his hoodie-covered head. “You poor thing.”

Oh, organic chemistry. The monster it was.

When he still didn't pick himself or his laptop screen up, you leaned over to lay on top of him. “This is comfortable,” you muttered into the back of his hoodie.

You heard him hum in agreement.

“Dude, I don't even know how you're keeping up with your classes during baseball season,” you whispered and began mindlessly drawing flowers on his back.

“I'm not.”

You had to bury your face into his back to suppress your snort. “That's valid.”

“Thanks.”

“Awwh,” you murmured and wrapped your arms around his back. “It's gonna be okay. I promise.” Out of the two of you, Eric was usually the one with the sunny disposition, but it didn't mean you wouldn't jump at the opportunity to help him feel better. He deserved just as much tender love and care.

For a moment, you stayed in that position with your body covering his and your arms wrapped around him. If you weren't careful, you might have fallen asleep like that.

Eventually, you peeled yourself off of him and coaxed him to sit up with you. “Study for an hour with me and then we can get a treat.”

“Your face is a treat,” he said groggily, rubbing his eye from behind his glasses while yawning.

You covered up any signs of being flustered with, “Is that how you pull girls, Sohn?”

“No, that's how I pull you.”

You didn't need to feel your skin to know your face was on fire. He didn't even glance over at you, only sleepily smacked his lips together and pulled his laptop lid up with robotic motions. Maybe that was a good thing though. You still weren't too sure how you felt about his flirty remarks as of late, and they had yet to cease.

But… you looked over at Eric and he was already getting to work—you could deal with it later. It wasn't like it meant anything, right? Surely, the quickening of your heart and continually flustered state because of him meant absolutely nothing, right? Of course. And they definitely weren't signs that you liked his increased lines. Definitely.

(Who the fuck were you trying to fool?)

As promised, after about an hour passed by, you and Eric packed up your things to head out to find something to munch on. With spring slowly fading out into a pretty summer, the sun gleamed from its perch in the sky to warm the day. The trees lining the walkway were beginning to lose their flower buds in exchange for rich, dark green leaves.

A few minutes out from the university's main campus, you and Eric walked into a bakery that was frequented by many of your peers. It wasn't a complete surprise to see that nearly all of the tables inside were occupied by people with headphones in, laptops on, and books out.

You and Eric hopped in line, nonetheless, your eyes darting from the display case to the room to scout for an open table. Your fingers drummed against the strap of your bag. “You know what you're getting?”

He hummed. “The almond croissant kind of sounds good right now. What about you?”

“Might get a sandwich, to be honest,” you said. You hadn't had a filling breakfast, so you might as well make up for it.

“Which sandwich?”

“You're not paying.”

He narrowed his eyes playfully with a purse of his lips. “That's what you think.”

He did not pay for your sandwich.

While there was not a single open table inside, there were plenty of them outside. Eric wrinkled his nose at you as you were just about to take a bite of your sandwich. You stopped short. “What? Don't tell me you're butthurt, Sohn.”

“That’s such a weird word,” he said, gently pulling a piece of the croissant apart for him to put into his mouth.

“What, butthurt?” You could agree with that. It was kind of funny. “True, but it describes you pretty well.”

He laughed then, his eyes turning upward into pretty, little crescent moons. Since the two of you were forced to sit outside, the sunshine had an easier path to paint over your friend's face and make him look even more ethereal. A feeling worked its way into your chest at the sight of him like this. “Okay, honey. Whatever.”

You smiled around your bite, replying only after you'd swallowed it, “See? Butthurt.”

“I'm a good sport though.”

“Fine, I will admit that you're a good sport.”

His smile widened as if satisfied with that answer.

From within your bag, you could hear an aggressive vibration from your phone. You set your meal down to wipe your hands, then fished the device out.

At the sight of the text messages, your face morphed into one of mild amusement concealing a whole lot of “what the heck?”

Eric noticed your change in mood. “Something wrong?”

“Not necessarily?” You opened up the text chain that you had with Bae Sumin, one of your friends whom you met from a composition class you both shared in freshman year. “She's asking if you'd be interested in being set up for a date.”

You didn't know why there had been a spike of panic in your heart after reading it. It wasn't like you had any claim over Eric; that wouldn't be right to gatekeep him, especially when you didn't like him like… that, right?

His brows knitted together as he skimmed over the messages. When he was done he leaned away, his head already shaking. “I'm not really interested.”

“Really?” You asked curiously, withdrawing your phone back to your side of the table and mentally drafting a text message back. “Sieun's pretty nice.”

“I'm just—” he nudged his glasses up, letting out a breathy laugh, “—I’d rather figure that all out for myself, y'know? It's not like I don't think Sieun's a good person, but I…” He huffed, and it sounded almost frustrated.

You didn't know why you felt guilty all of a sudden. “You don't have to explain it to me, dude,” you said and began texting Sumin back. “If you don't want to, then you don't want to, y'know? It's better than leading her on.”

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“So you're not interested in anyone then?” You asked, in an attempt to slowly bring the conversation away from matchmaking. “You know what? You don't have to say anything—we can talk about something else—”

“I'm interested in someone,” he cut in.

You paused, surprised. You felt your pulse leap. Who? You wanted to ask, but instead inquired, “Really?”

He avoided your eyes. “Yep.”

“Oh.” Well that would make sense why he didn't want to be set up with someone else. Why couldn't he just say that in the first place then?

You gnawed on your bottom lip and couldn't help but think about who Eric could be interested in. There was a jittery flutter in your stomach at the thought. You didn't want to pry, but you were also curious as to who he was interested in. “Well, uh, good for you! I think that's really great.”

That… sounded so insincere.

Eric lifted his gaze to yours, and you felt a jolt run down your spine at the look in his eyes. “Thanks, Yn. I don't really know what to do though, to be honest.”

You frowned, tucking your phone away. “About—about the person? Or about your feelings?”

“I guess,” he said with a helpless gesture of his hands, “both.”

You pressed your lips together. It had been awhile since you were remotely interested in anyone either. And even back then, you were never the sort of person to speak up about your feelings with the person first. But this was Eric, and you wanted to at least try to help him. “Is this person not someone you think you should have feelings for? I guess I’m just asking why you feel conflicted or helpless.”

“Kind of,” he said, tongue in cheek. “They’re—they’re one of my—” He stopped himself. “They’re one of the best people I know, I just don’t think they feel the same way.”

“And so you don’t want to risk losing them should you confess?” You finished for him. You felt your posture droop with sympathy, and maybe a bit of envy. Who could this be about?

Eric scratched the underside of his jaw. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Well, I mean, if they’re as good of a person as you say, I think that they wouldn’t hold it against you or your friendship if you confessed and they didn’t feel the same.” If you were in his situation, you wouldn’t want to lose Eric ei—wait, what? Why were you thinking of it like that? You shook yourself out of whatever delusional headspace you found yourself in. “And in any case, maybe you can flirt with them, or hint to them your feelings and see how they respond.”

His eyebrow arched high. “I’ve definitely done that.”

“And?”

He smirked, a chuckle falling out of his mouth. “They may be one of the best people I know, but they’re as oblivious as a rock sometimes.”

Your own brows lifted. “Damn.” And you knew exactly how blatant Eric’s flirting style was.

Eric’s eyes caught onto something behind you, and you sat up to see what he was looking at. Just on the other side of the outside seating area, you recognized Mark Lee and Kim Jungwoo from Eric’s baseball team strolling past.

Mark lifted a hand, his mouth widening into a grin. “Hey, man! What’s up?”

Eric greeted his teammates with his usual cheeriness, clasping his hand with theirs.

“Oh my gosh, is this the—”

“The best friend,” Eric interrupted, his eyes darting to you. Both Mark and Jungwoo did the same thing, so now you were worried about why they were looking at you like that. “Yeah, this is Yn, my best friend.”

Jungwoo grabbed Mark by his shoulder and extended a greeting fist bump toward you. “Nice to finally meet you, Yn. Eric’s told us a lot about you.”

“Oh?” You glanced over at Eric before reciprocating the gesture. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Hope he’s only said good things,” you jested. Partly.

“Oh, all the good things; don’t worry,” Mark chirped. “We’ll see you at practice later, Eric!”

Eric lifted his hand in a wave as they continued down the street. “See you then!”

Once you were sure they were out of earshot, you picked up your sandwich again. “So you talk about me to your teammates?”

“All good things—you heard Mark,” he said with a laugh, but for some reason, you thought you detected a hint of uncertainty there. “How could I not talk about you?”

“Careful there, you’re starting to sound like you’re obsessed with me.”

“Well, maybe I am,” he shot back at you. He brushed the crumbs from his finished croissant onto the plate, reaching for the small stack of napkins between you two. “But seriously, don’t worry about what those guys said. They just like to mess with me.”

You lifted a shoulder in a meager shrug. “No worries, man. I’m obsessed with you, too, so the feeling’s mutual.”

You relished in the way his countenance noticeably lifted, his expression brightened, the corners of his lips curling into the apples of his pinkened cheeks like twin divots. All of a sudden it was just you and Eric, and you could forget about everything and everyone else.

“He said the L word?” Vernon let out a melodramatic gasp, which made it all the more funny since he'd said it with the most monotonous tone. His eyes had gone wide enough to see the white of his eyes though, and you practically doubled over because of him.

Ningning, unaffected by Vernon's silliness, nodded vigorously. “He said he loved her first! Isn't that crazy?”

You plucked out one of your opened water bottles from the fridge. “I don't think it's that crazy. Is it weird that I don't think it's that crazy?”

Vernon sank deeper into the couch cushion he sat on, eyes already drifting closed. “It's Kim Sunwoo; I don't think it's that crazy either.”

“Am I the only person who was shocked by this?”

“Yes,” you and Vernon answered at once.

Ningning rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. I guess I can see it, too. But it's just weird because he never gave any indication that he even liked her.”

“He was probably just suppressing it?” Vernon offered with a yawn. “Maybe he's just got a lot on his plate. My friend Seungcheol's a little emotionally constipated, too, but it's 'cause he's been slammed by his work stuff.”

“Isn't it crazy that people our age are telling other people they love them already? Like, love-love, and not some kind of primary-school-playground-love.” You moved yourself to join your friends in your micro living room. There was a gathering of laptops and papers scattered on the coffee table, but no one had touched them since they'd been brought out. Finals week burnout was real and tangible.

“One day,” Ningning sighed, less so lovey dovey, and more so exhausted as hell. She leaned her cheek against the back of her knuckles. “I don't know if I wanna get married though.”

“I think marriage is cool,” said Vernon. He had now taken on a coffin position with his arms crossed firmly over his chest and his face tilted up toward the ceiling. “As long as it's with the right person.”

“Yeah, stuff like that can't be rushed,” you agreed. You weren't sure what your plans for the future were; you just hoped you had your friends by your side, at the very least.

All this talk about partners and futures had your mind turning toward your conversation with Eric from lunch the other day. Did he see this crush of his as a potential life partner? He deserved that—someone who loved him as much as he no doubt loved them. Where would that leave you? Didn't you want something like that, too?

“Let's not talk about marriage anymore.” Ningning fwumped onto her side over the remainder of the sectional that Vernon wasn't lying on. She'd clearly given up on studying, same as Vernon. “How's Eric doing, Yn?”

Your head perked up. “Eric? What about Eric?”

“Oh, I dunno.” She held her phone screen directly above her face as she scrolled through social media, her lips pressed together. “Chenle said that Mark said that he's interested in somebody.”

It seemed news traveled fast, but then again, you didn't know how long Eric had been interested in this mystery person. You blinked, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Ah, yeah. He mentioned something about that to me, but he didn't tell me who it was.”

Ningning turned her head slightly to face you and her eyebrow was flicked up toward her hairline. “You're serious?”

“Well, yeah. I'm not gonna force it out of him.”

Vernon peeked one eye open. “Dude, you know that guy would do anything for you, right? If you asked one more time, he probably would have folded like a lawn chair.”

You sent him a pointed look. “I'm not about to force him to give away something sensitive like that. I admit that I'm curious, but…” It just wasn't your business.

He frowned at you, then went back to his half-conscious state.

Were you missing something?

Ningning rolled over completely onto her side. “How about this: how do you feel about Eric being interested in someone?”

Why was this the sudden topic of discussion? You pursed your lips, eyebrows furrowing. “Is this a trick question?”

“Why would it be a trick question?”

You exhaled. “He said that the person he liked was one of the best people he knew, so I'm happy for him. Like I said earlier, it would be nice to know who it was, but I don't want to make him give up something if he's not ready to yet.” That would just be unfair.

Vernon opened his eyes again and turned to Ningning. “Doesn't this sound like an automated response?”

You deadpanned. “It is not an automated response. It's—y’know, why wouldn't I be happy for him?”

With a dead serious tone, your friends said simultaneously, “Because you're in love with him.”

That statement struck a match against your cheeks and set them ablaze. Your lips parted, words failing you. Because you're in love with him?

At your speechlessness, Ningning moved to sit up straight. “We think it's because you have feelings for him,” she rephrased, as if that was any better.

“I do not have feelings for him.”

“I think you do; you might be mistaking it as something else.”

You garbled with the words in your brain, but they slipped and fumbled and wouldn't line up correctly on your tongue. It was to the point that you had to put a pause on trying to come up with a retort, and rather, piece this together logically. There had to be a reason for why both Ningning and Vernon were on the same page with this.

It came to you then, slowly, like a train pulling into the station. It was every one of his flirtatious maneuvers to get you flustered, the bittersweetness you didn't want to acknowledge at the thought that he was interested in somebody else. It was that look in his eyes that you couldn't describe, the way he tripped over his words when it came to calling you a friend. The voice over the intercom was announcing the stop as the train came to a gradual halt.

“Oh.”

Ningning frowned slightly, her head nodding. Vernon was actually awake now. “Yeah.”

So what now?

You knew Eric just finished with his organic chemistry final when you found him passed out on your couch. You'd been out working for the majority of the day and passed him a set of spare keys to your apartment to let himself in whenever he was done so the two of you could start your long awaited movie marathon night. The sun had just set and you'd come with a bag of groceries to make dinner, but all you could think about was the guy snoozing on the couch, his tufts of hair sticking out of his hood.

Cute.

By the time he woke up, you had dinner fixed up, and the apartment was filled with divine aromatics. Some said the smell of food usually made chefs feel full, but you hadn't eaten properly since you left for your shift this morning.

The lump on the couch stirred as you turned off the stove and turned toward the sink to start washing the dishes. You didn't like washing dishes, but it was a necessary evil. Earlier, you’d found the evidence that Eric had helped himself to some of the instant noodles in your cabinets, leaving a note by the dishes in the sink: Sorry, I promise I'll wash these when I wake up!!

You knew he would have kept his word, but you also knew how hard he worked and stressed over that damn exam. It was no inconvenience toward you to wash just a couple extra things.

Eric rolled onto his feet and shuffled into the kitchen, his eyes fluttering to adjust to the warm lighting. “Hi,” he rasped, voice hoarse from his nap.

His chin found your shoulder. “I said I'd wash those,” he murmured, referring to the small pot you were washing now.

“I know. I thought I'd do it anyway.”

“You hate washing the dishes.”

Your movements paused for a second. The organ in your chest was galloping away again, but now you knew the reason. Your head shifted slightly as it bumped against his gently. “I know.”

He was quiet for a moment before his arms came around your form and settled across your stomach and waist. “Thanks. Sorry for the mess.”

“There was no mess, silly goose,” you told him.

“I'll wash the ones after dinner.”

You murmured, “It's okay, Eric. I know you're good for it.”

Eric let out a breath against your neck, his head tucking into the warmth there. “I love you.”

At once, you both froze. You felt his body tense up around you, and knew your movements had stopped completely. You'd both heard what he said crystal clear and even the volume of the sink faucet couldn't dismiss it as a trick of the ear.

“Shit.” He detached himself from you just as you finished washing. You reached for the dry towel next to you on the counter to dry your hands, then turned around to face him. His eyes were wide like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I didn't say that aloud, did I?”

You smiled through a small wince. “You kind of did.”

“What if I left and pretended I wasn't even here?—”

You stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. You gave him a little shake, the smile on your face sweetening. “Hey, Eric. I love you, too.”

His lips fell into a pout. “No, Yn. You—you don't get it. It's—I… I love you.”

“I know,” you said and moved your hands up to cup his face. There was a wobble in his eyes as you said this, that puppy pout deepening. “And I love you, too.”

Eric wrapped his arms around you tight then, a breath of air pushing out from his lips in utter relief. “Oh my god, you have,” he stammered, “no idea how—just—” He pulled away from you and pressed his lips to the side of your face.

You laughed, your hand coming up to cup the back of his head.

His face was split wide open by a massive grin and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, gleamed like a pair of twin stars beneath the dim kitchen lights. “Do you know how hard this has been for me?” He exclaimed while throwing his hands up in the air. “Do you know how much pain I was in when you couldn't get the hint—”

“Hey! Normal people don't just assume that their best friend has feelings for them,” you stuttered out in your own defense.

Eric tilted his head up to the ceiling. “I have literally flirted at you, right to your face.”

“You have a flirty personality.”

“And you are oblivious.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, your head cocking to the side. “Agree to disagree?”

He sighed and the sound was something happy and bright. “Agree to disagree,” he replied. He smiled at you again, but the corners were softer and mellower, the tenderness shining through like the glow of a lamp covered in a fabric shade. “I've been dying to tell you since I went to LA; I just didn't know how.”

“LA?” You parroted.

“I just couldn't stop thinking about wanting you there with me,” he said like it was the easiest thing in the world. “I'd be in the hotel room, staring up at the ceiling with the stupidest smile on my face thinkin’ 'bout you, and then I'd realize I actually was in love with you. It would flip-flop between those two things all trip long.”

You chuckled as you imagined Eric's starkly different facial expressions for each version of himself. It was an amusing thought. “Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for all the strife I put you through.”

His hands warmed over the sides of your arms. “Hey, honey, it was all worth it in the end.”

“You know,” you said, playing with one of the strings of his hoodie, and his hands came to rest around your waist loosely, “if the comfort and—the warmth and the happiness I feel around you is love, then I think I've been in love with you since the day we met.”

Eric's lips pressed in a deep pout again. “Come on! You can't possibly say that and not expect me to wanna kiss you.”

“I'm not saying no,” you teased.

There was that smile again. He licked his lips once and leaned over to gently press his mouth against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let his softness consume you and ignite you all at once. It occurred to you that you were never scared of losing Eric as a friend—this was just what was next for you both.

When you both pulled away, your breaths still intermingling, his cheeks were a pretty, bubblegum pink color.

“Was that your first kiss?” You joked even though you knew full well it wasn't.

His laugh was low, but his expression brightened. “Might as well be,” he said, “it's the only one I wanna remember.”

Your tongue stuck out of the corner of your mouth as you carefully pulled the loops of ribbon through itself to create the perfect, matching bow to the one on the other side of your head. Chenle was hosting a start-of-summer party, and it was mandated that you and your friends attend (according to Ningning).

Through your mirror, your eyes caught a presence at your bedroom door. “Oh my god, you're so cute,” Eric groaned, turning to the side to melodramatically hit his head against the doorframe.

You melted into a smile. “Thanks. I wasn't really sure how they would look actually.”

“Well, they're perfect. You’re perfect. Please don't take them off.” He came over to join you were you sat on the floor in front of your body length mirror.

You wiggled around a strand of pink ribbon you had cut off earlier, but didn't end up using because it was way too long for a hair bow. “I've got an extra piece. Do you want it?”

He scoffed, a hand carding through his hair, “Of course, I want it.”

Very pleased with his response, you clambered onto your knees to decide where to put it. He was dressed casually with a loose tank top, board shorts, and a cap on backwards. You squinted one of your eyes closed. “I've got it.”

“You've got it?” He repeated with a chuckle, smile widening as you practically climbed into his lap. “Hi,” he said with your faces close to each other and his hands resting on either side of your waist.

“Calm down there, tiger,” you teased, “I'm just gonna tie it where everyone can see it.”

You looped the ribbon around his left bicep, his arm subtly flexing as you did so. You made sure the bow looked as perfect as you were capable of making it. With a little pat of your hand, you deemed that it was all set.

“Perfect,” he said with a nod of affirmation.

You nodded along with him. “I'd agree.”

“Hey.” He drew your attention over to him once more and his hands pulled you flush against him. There was a goofy grin on his lips as he gazed at you with wide, doe-like eyes that melted into pairs of molten chocolate. “Do you think…”

“Do I think?” You prompted, wrapping your arms around the back of his shoulders.

“Do you think that if I kissed you in front of our friends, they'd realize we were dating?”

A laugh fell from your mouth, and Eric had never seen something so pretty in his life. (There were few things worthy of being engraved on the backs of one's eyelids, but he thought he just found a view that was. He would chase your smile until the end of time.)

“What?” He beamed. “Good idea, right?”

“I thought we said we were soft launching,” you said, the smile yet to retreat.

“I guess,” he sighed dramatically and leaned back onto his hand to drape the other one across his forehead like a damsel in distress.

You went forward to kiss him. “You're cute.”

“Isn't that my line?” He teased. He licked his lips a little then, expression becoming thoughtful. “I know this is gonna be something different—this relationship—but at the same time, I feel like nothing's changed.”

Swoon. You went in for another kiss and lingered there a bit longer when his hand came up to cup the back of your neck. “It'll be different and the same,” you agreed. “Just better.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Definitely better.”

It was scary—this venture into new territory. It was something that both you and Eric would experience and discover together. But on the bright side, at least you were in love. Maybe that was all that mattered in the end.

a/n: everybody say 'thank god she expanded the plot'

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary

[rystiel]

au where ford gets over himself when he gets to gravity falls and reaches out to stan sooner

stan thinks ford still doesn’t want him around and is gonna kick him out the moment he doesn’t need his help anymore ahaha. but like also they’re so sillayyyy

(plus a part 2 & part 3)

[the-barefoot-hatter]

c'mon Sixer, it's like the World's Greatest Playpen! 100% safe!

[wstzkgjw]

:3

[zovie9638]

here's Part2 and part3

Next Part Previous

[l0verseyes]

YOUR MATH IS NO MATCH FOR MY GUN, YOU IDIOT!

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Part 2/2

By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.

In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.

So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.

When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.

He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.

The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.

The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.

It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.

And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.

However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.

Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:

Children.

Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.

Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.

They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.

It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.

When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:

Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.

"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.

Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.

He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.

Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.

He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.

Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.

He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.

He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.

"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.

He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.

All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?

[deoboyznet]

heads up! check out yumi's new piece! pls remember to reblog as always <3

clair de lune

changmin x reader

summary: you and changmin are polar opposites in the dance studio. you're graceful and with a "perfect" image while he goes off on his own way, experimenting with different styles. you hate him and want nothing to do with him. until he chooses you to be his partner in a duet.

genre: dance rivals au, their dance styles are opposites (ballet/hiphop etc), enemies to lovers ish, unknowing pining, self-esteem issues (stop self projecting!), slight hurt/comfort, if you ever watched pride and prejudice (2005) you will recognize scenes, "moonlight" notes: based on the classical song clair de lune, fun fact: i can play the piano! also ik u want me to open requests but gimme like another two weeks to not be exhausted from studies PFF hope you enjoy! word count: 13k (it just keeps growing im sorry)

“Again.”

Wiping off the bead of sweat that traveled agonizingly slow on your forehead, you glanced at the woman—your instructor who was also the bane of your existence–with a furrowed brow. She only stared at you sternly, causing you to sigh with frustration as you turned back to the mirror.

You stretched your arms, trying to make that picture-perfect angle that would satisfy her, and then you pointed your toes, just like you had been told to do since you were young. And then you began to move, your fingers outstretched, your back in a neutral position, and your shoulders–

“Again.”

And this time, you couldn’t constrain the groan that escaped from your lips. You let your muscles relax as you broke out of position to face her with a slightly annoyed frown.

She marked something on her clipboard. Oh, how you hated that clipboard. You once took a glance at it and you had almost cried in bed for the next two days over her incredibly harsh remarks. Constructive criticism, she would say. That… that was just bullying in your opinion.

“Are you giving up?” She practically barked, her voice loud and obnoxious. 

“I’m not–” You rolled your ankle, making sure you didn’t injure it. “I’m just tired. We’ve been practicing for hours.” And then you turned your neck, slightly wincing at the pang of soreness. 

You could’ve sworn her eye twitched as she faked a smile. “For hours because you’re simply not adequate enough to–”

“I am,” You interrupted, your face contorting with exasperation.

She gazed at you with slight surprise. And then she sighed, running a hand through her graying hair. 

“Then why do you keep messing up?” She spoke softly this time, but it was enough to shoot straight through your heart.

“Because I–” You bit your lip, looking down at your pointe shoes. You couldn’t even finish your own sentence because you yourself weren’t sure.

Your instructor stood up, picking up her bag with heavy eyes. “At this rate,” She exhaled lowly. “I might have to give this solo to someone else.”

You widened your eyes and you were immediately rushing to her, hands clasped together. “No, please,” You pleaded. “I– I promise I’ll perfect this. No mistakes. Promise.” You emphasized the last word so clearly that it echoed throughout the room. 

She stared at you with skepticism. 

“Then go,” She uttered. “Start practicing. In two days’ time will be your evaluation and then we’ll decide.”

With a huff of determination, you watched as she opened the door and left. Turning back to the mirror, it was then that you realized just how worn out you looked. Your hair was a mess, the front pieces slightly sticking to your forehead from the “practicing for hours,” which you weren’t exaggerating about at all. Your cheeks were flushed from the constant activity. But despite this, you rolled your ankle once again and began to dance.

Vigorously.

A bit too vigorously.

Every twist and turn started to become more sloppy, more painful. As the song progressed, you found yourself stumbling more and more over your own feet and your lungs began to feel like they would collapse in on itself. 

But you kept going, determined to keep this solo that you’ve worked so hard to get a spot for. 

And it was going well! Amazing actually! Or maybe you were just telling yourself that because soon after your fake words of affirmation came the tripping of your feet and the falling of your whole body against the floor. Your shoulders stiffened as your hands came in contact with the floor and you groaned. 

Luckily, you weren’t exactly hurt anywhere. But you were frustrated. Your friend would always tell you to just take a break but you couldn’t afford that. Instead, you made a move to get up again until your eyes wandered over to where a water bottle had rolled its way over to you. 

Still completely agitated, your hand closed around it and threw it as far away as you could. You watched it skid, all the way down until it hit someone’s shoes. Pointe shoes were nowhere to be seen. Just simple sneakers. And you knew exactly who it was.

“Just when I thought I was being nice,” Changmin hummed, picking the bottle up. “Guess this is mine then.”

His voice was just so… cocky at the moment that you couldn’t help but glare up at him as if to non-verbally tell him to just leave.

The two of you were different. Not just from the pointe shoes and sneakers or from the tight balletwear and the comfortable t-shirt. It was just a lot. While you specialized in the more graceful choreographies and genres like ballet and contemporary, he was the more powerful, sharper one who thrived in hip-hop, popping and the like. And while you spent most of your time perfecting intricate moves, he was frequently finding ways to make his performance more… out there. 

Polar opposites, some people would say.

The only thing that you two had in common was being popular. Not your biggest feat, in your opinion, but it was the truth. In the dance studio, if either of your names were spoken, it was immediately recognized. The both of you were praised, criticized, and talked about on the daily, whether you liked it or not.

Opposites attract, was what other people would say.

But that wasn’t true. At least for the two of you. 

He was just so… arrogant.

“You look worse for wear,” He remarked with an amused smile.

“Thanks for pointing that out,” You snapped, brushing yourself off as you stood up, wincing at the forming bruise on your knee. “What are you doing here?”

“Walking by,” He simply replied.

“You could have just walked by the room then. Not in it.” You took that extra second to look him over. He must have been heading for practice because unlike you, he wasn’t sweaty and didn’t look like a mess. His hair softly fell over his forehead and he had those typical bulky headphones that he always wore to ignore you around his neck.

He smirked. “Just wanted to see how horrible you were doing.”

Fuming, you completely threw away the thought that he looked particularly nice that day. Clenching a fist, all the failed moves in the mirror came rushing back to your vision like waves of the ocean.

“Satisfied? Did you see all the mistakes I made?” You bitterly laughed. It was often just bickering with him. But with your instructor’s voice ringing through your ears obnoxiously, you couldn’t help but snap. With a sigh, you motioned to the door harshly. “Great. So leave.”

You had expected him to retort back. But instead, he just looked at you with an incomprehensible expression. And then his eyes traveled down to the water bottle still in his hand. Out of nowhere, he threw it to you and you scrambled to catch it.

“At least take this,” He replied quietly, no malice behind his tone. 

To say you were confused was an understatement. “Did you put anything in this?”

He laughed. “What? A love potion?”

“No,” You sputtered, toying with the cap of it. “Like a sleeping potion or–”

“And who’s going to take care of you when you’re asleep?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You.” You glared with narrowed eyes. 

“You’re funny,” He sarcastically replied. 

“Are you too much of an asshole to?” A smile tugged on your lips. “Is that why?”

“I’m perfectly capable.” He rolled his eyes. “Just not for you.”

You nodded, fully expecting his answer. And then you jabbed a finger at the door. “Get out then. I need to practice.” Without bidding him goodbye, not even a single wave, you turned around to start the music again.

But then you heard his voice again, calling out to you from across the practice room.

“Moonlight.”

At first, you just thought that he was rambling, saying random things to bother you. But he said it again when you didn’t respond.

“Moonlight,” He said again, a teasing tone suddenly appearing in his voice. With an annoyed exhale, you turned to face him. That was when you came to the revelation that he was addressing you. As moonlight.

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Yes, you.” He tilted his head slightly. “Good luck with your practice, moonlight.”

Your hand was already raising, threatening to throw the music speaker into his face. “Don’t call me tha–”

“Moonlight,” He repeated. “This song. Clair de lune?”

“What about it?” You eyed him suspiciously.

His gaze searched yours silently for a moment. You’ve always hated it when the two of you locked eyes. It always left you feeling weird inside. Agitated, probably.

“It means moonlight. Which… reminds me of you.”

If you weren’t so exhausted, you would have noticed the way he nervously fumbled for the door and you also would have noticed his small stumble out into the hallway.

–

The lights blared across your vision and the bass of the music pounded from your stomach, all the way down to your ears which only worsened your growing headache. You dreaded this party. But, no matter how many times you complained about it, it happened every single year. Annually, it was a good luck party for those performing at the recital.

You didn’t want to go and you usually never did. But since that solo was meant for the recital, you had forced yourself to dress up and finally open that party invitation with the gold lettering.

You kept to yourself, occasionally waving at fellow dancers and friends. But even while there was a particular amount (read: a lot) of people questioning you about your performance and whether you were dating a famous celebrity (you weren’t), you managed to slip away and grab a drink.

You couldn’t even tell the color of the liquid because of the bright lights flashing about. But hey, at least it tasted good. Weaving through the crowd, you were desperate to find a more secluded place. But that was when you ran into someone.

Him.

Changmin. Of course, you rolled your eyes, he would be here. He had a performance too. Which frankly, you didn’t care about. At all. 

Your eyes skimmed over him for a moment, taking in his party attire. His hair was finally styled up and you were almost jealous over how well the purple lights complimented him.

He looked at you with slight surprise before schooling his expression into something obnoxious. Or teasing. You couldn’t quite tell.

“How’s the solo going?” He spoke with an amused smile. Thankfully, the music had died down. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you had to lean even closer to him just to hear his infuriating insults.

“Amazing,” You immediately replied, maybe too fast and not very convincing. It had gone badly. Fewer mistakes but still much too many. But who were you to tell him that? Not when he would use that as his new monthly taunt. And out of sheer politeness, you smiled disdainfully. “Are you performing?” 

He raised an eyebrow at your obviously faked, higher-pitched voice.

“Drop the formalities.” He shook his head. “But yeah and it’s going to be better than yours. Though, I’m missing a dance partner.”

“A duet?” You tilted your head in confusion.

He nodded, a small, amused smile appearing on his lips. “Why, desperate to sign up?”

“No,” You retorted, scoffing. “Why would I ever want to dance with you?”

He simply shrugged with a smile, which only infuriated you more. With a huff, you stepped forward, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I hope you know that dancing with you is like stepping on a piece of dog sh–” You were interrupted. By your own yelp of all things. It was a common occurrence that when interacting with Changmin, you often forgot your surroundings. It was like this cloud of anger engulfed you constantly.

For example, right now, you completely forgot that you were at a party.

A guy dancing, probably having the time of his life, suddenly bumped into you, causing you to stumble over your own feet. At that point, you sort of just gave up, choosing to accept the embarrassment. But, that was when you felt a hand rush to your side to steady you.

It only briefly brushed against your waist but it sent sparks down your whole spine. Inhaling sharply, you snapped your head to look at Changmin.

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“What?” He stared at you. “Nothing.”

“You touched me,” You spoke in utter disbelief. The feeling of his fingertips just merely grazing you left you stuttering and you weren’t quite sure why.

“So you don’t fall flat on your face,” He muttered, leaning closer, right up to your ear. Immediately, you were engulfed by his cologne that… much to your demise, smelled really good. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty face.”

You felt your mouth go dry and you harshly pulled away, swallowing thickly. And now, you were incredibly grateful for the bright lights of the party because you couldn’t bear for him to notice your embarrassed expression. Visibly or not, you weren’t sure. Your cheeks felt oddly warm though.

“Well, I hope you–” You cursed yourself for stumbling over your words. “I hope you ruin your… your horrific face.” God, you mentally slapped yourself.

He only grinned. And this time, his hand actually closed around your waist. At first, you thought he was teasing again but you realized that yet again, someone was going to bump into you.

“Don’t lie,” He whispered, quiet enough only for you to hear.

“I’m not.” But your voice wavered.

“Definitely.” His lips pulled up into a teasing smile–one that you couldn’t help but think was attractive–and he walked away.

With a groan, you fixed your clothes and turned around. You let out a low breath, completely overwhelmed by the sight. The crowd was larger than before and the music only increased in volume. And so, holding a hand to your chest–ignoring the weird pounding of your heartbeat from… past events–you navigated through the bout of dancing and laughing people.

At some point, you found yourself in another room, the thumping music only heard through the walls. No matter if you were one of the most popular, successful dancers of the studio, you were still closed off. Like right now, you were pretty sure your instructor would ridicule you for literally hiding behind the curtains, sipping another drink.

Leaning your head back against the wall, you allowed yourself a deep breath as you tried to forget everything. The struggle of your dance routine, the immense and loud party, him and his stupid playful smile. 

But of course, that same him happened to pop up again. But this time, he was with Juyeon. Juyeon was a sweet man and you didn’t mind conversing with him. You had seen the way he danced powerfully yet gracefully at the same time despite his long limbs. His only flaw was that he was friends with… him.

“You still haven’t found a partner?” In the corner of your eye, they walked by, causing you to hide further.

Changmin sighed. “I’m trying.”

“What about Y/n?” Juyeon asked, nudging him with a small smile. “They seem suitable. Beautiful too.”

Your rival paused in his tracks, turning to Juyeon with an unimpressed look.

“Beautiful, but completely intolerable.”

It took all of your willpower not to jump out and throw your glass cup straight into your face. You were about to be flattered, maybe even confront him and tease him for calling you beautiful. But to counter that right after with intolerable?

You hated him.

–

The party was slowly dying down, now reduced to slow music for those couples who kissed in the hallways. You would think they stopped that after high school but apparently they still do so now. You were sure you looked like a mess but you couldn’t care less as you spotted Changmin in the background, leaning against the wall and simply observing the crowd.

Approaching him, you stood next to him. He only regarded you with a glance.

“What about her?” You spoke up, gesturing to a girl. She was talented, most definitely. You’d seen her do all sorts of dances, specializing in the art of tango which you admired.

“Helping me now?” He muttered.

You ignored his question, choosing to stare ahead. With a sigh, he shook his head.

“Her style is completely different from mine. So no.”

“That’s what you look for?” You scrunched up your face. “You know it’s boring when your styles are exactly the same.”

He turned to you and you tried to ignore the fact that when his hair was slightly disheveled and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, he didn’t look half bad. Still, his looks didn’t quite fit his irritating personality.

“Then what should I look for in a dance partner?” He looked at you, bored.

You thought for a moment. And then you let your hand trail down to his sleeve. Grasping the fabric, you pulled him closer.

“Someone who compliments your own dancing,” You whispered. He stared down at you in surprise. This time, his expression wasn’t an act to make you annoyed. His wide eyes, lips parted… were all real as his gaze traveled across your features, gulping nervously. “Even if…” You paused, marveling in the way his cheeks flushed under the party lighting. “They’re completely intolerable.”

He inhaled, about to walk forward. “Y/n–”

But you were already stepping away, creating that distance that you were most familiar with.

–

Often, dance played out in steps. One-two, one-two-three, et cetera, et cetera. The wave of your arms and the placement of your feet moved in these rhythmical steps. Or at least, you tried to get them to move in the right rhythm. It seemed that the only thing that was on time was the fast pace of your breath.

Breathing heavily, you stood up to face your three evaluators. Two of them had a somewhat satisfied look on their face, barely writing anything on their clipboards. But one… her. You grimaced, remembering the sight of her constantly picking up her pen in the middle of your routine, even frowning and shaking her head.

Your hair was messy and probably damp with sweat from the vigorous evaluation but you still stood tall. Up until that one word, that left everything crashing down on you.

“Out.”

Stricken, you turned to face your own instructor. 

“What?” You stuttered.

She stabbed her clipboard with the pen, tip down. “I said, you’re out,” She spoke in an obnoxiously calm voice. “I already found someone else to take your spot the other day.”

“But I–” You sighed in frustration, stepping forward, ignoring the searing pain of your joints from all the constant practicing that resulted in absolutely nothing. “I tried so hard for this. You taught me this solo, how could you–”

“I’m sorry,” She interrupted firmly. “Next time, Y/n.”

You watched each of them. There was some sense of remorse behind their expression but you could see something else. Something that pertained to… greed, money. You always knew that this dance studio–with its esteem and popularity–always would have those people who bought their way in. Those people who wanted your solo so badly that they obtained it with a simple check from their bank.

But you couldn’t change anything about that. So, with a deep breath–one that was concerningly shaky–you stepped backwards to the door.

“Fine,” You muttered. “It’s fine.”

Before you could even register it yourself, you were running out the door, the sound of it slamming behind you. Again, like those rhythmical steps, you tried to breathe in and out, tried to compose yourself. But, as soon as you turned the corner, away from any watchful eyes, you found yourself sliding down the wall. 

Bringing your knees up to your chest, you buried your face in your arms, allowing a few tears to slip. It was refreshing, really. You were always expected to be the perfect, most graceful dancer of the studio. But sometimes, it was hard to keep that up.

You let yourself relax, sniffling occasionally as you remembered all the hard work that turned into pointless frowns, sighs, and pen-writing. But then the sound of footsteps approached you. Still, you didn’t bother to look up.

“How’s the solo going?” A familiar, dreadful voice. You felt the warmth of a shoulder bump against yours as the person sat down next to you. Even through your muted ears, you could hear the thump of his head as he set it back against the wall.

With an exhausted exhale, you looked up, only to come face-to-face with Changmin. You already knew it was him but just the sight of your rival still brought you a scowl as you looked back down into your lap.

“Is that the only way to start your conversations?” You spoke softly.

He only stared at you wordlessly. You could feel his eyes on you, studying the tears that trailed down your face.

At his lack of response, you groaned. “It went horrible. I lost it. Happy now?” You bitterly smiled, wiping at your cheeks harshly, wincing at the burn of the fabric of your sleeves. When you turned to face him again, you realized that his face had fallen. 

“You… lost it?” He asked quietly.

You forced a roll of your eyes. Though, you knew it was useless to try to pretend that you felt perfectly content with this.

“Yes,” You breathed with frustration. “Yes, I did. So go. Laugh in my face and leave.”

But you didn’t hear a single huff of amusement. It was completely silent. Except for the shifting of clothes–the shifting of him moving closer to you. Now, his whole side was pressed to yours and again, you were reminded of how nice he smelled.

“I won’t laugh,” He whispered.

“Okay then.” You glanced at him briefly. “Fine. What are you doing here then?”

He turned to you slightly and you flinched when you saw his hand lifting up towards your face. You stayed frozen once you realized that he was picking up a thread of fabric stuck in your hair. Probably from your constant rubbing of your tears.

“Small talk,” He eventually replied, his voice surprisingly soft and… gentle.

You snorted, slapping his hand away. “With your rival?”

“Best to learn your enemies,” He humorously responded.

And even with your tears drying on your skin, you laughed. It was quiet, slightly weak from emotions of failure. But you still laughed. Because of Changmin of all people. With a sigh, you patted at the drying tears.

“God, I probably look like a mess.”

“You don’t.”

You turned to him in slight surprise before narrowing your eyes. “How can I trust you?”

“Just do.” He smiled. 

You hummed, shutting your eyes with exhaustion. “Then I’ll take your word for it.”

“It’s quite the opposite actually,” He continued. Perking up, you grinned playfully at him. 

“And what do you mean by that? What’s the opposite of looking like a mess?” 

“Looking…” His voice was barely a whisper now. “Looking pretty.”

Your breath hitched at his words. You didn’t know what you were expecting but you weren’t expecting that. But again, he was your rival. He was probably just teasing you.

“Are you saying I’m a pretty crier?”

He paused. And finally, without any dark rooms or party lighting, you could see the flush on his cheeks. “No comment?”

You laughed softly. But your content expression quickly turned into a small frown. “Shouldn’t you be practicing right now? You have a performance for the recital.”

He never answered your question. Instead, he looked down to where your hands and elbows were bruised from constant practice. Then he faced you with an incomprehensible look in his face.

“But you’re not performing at all?” He asked instead. 

Biting the inside of your cheeks to keep the tears from bursting out of your eyes again, you shook your head. 

He grew quiet again. You always hated how hard it was to decipher Changmin. He often trailed off and wouldn’t say anything, leaving you to decide if he was either going to throw another insult at you or finally leave you alone.

With an annoyed huff, you finally asked him, “What’re you planning?”

“Nothing.” He faked a smile. “I’ll… see you around?”

You stood up, your legs wobbly from the drained feeling after you poured out all of your emotions in the span of a few minutes. “Not for a while,” You sourly remarked. “I’m useless now. See you in two months.”

He tilted his head, his faux smile turning into an amused, almost mischievous one. “See you tomorrow.”

You were never one to question his odd responses. He just got the time wrong. That’s all.

—

You watched numbly as your ballet shoes tumbled to the floor. With a clenched jaw, you reached down to pick it up and shove it into your bag before turning back to your half-empty locker.

As you stood there, contemplating if you needed to bring home any of this stuff since you weren’t going to be dancing for a while anyway, your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Looking up, there was a woman poking her head in.

“Y/n?” She looked straight at you. 

“Me?” You pointed at yourself in disbelief. For a second, a spark of hope appeared in the depths of your heart. But it quickly flickered away. Maybe she was about to shove it in your face that you weren’t supposed to be here today. Which, you weren’t. But, you just needed to pack up some of your belongings.

“Y/n.” She smiled in strange relief. As if she was searching for you for a while. “You’re needed in the practice room.”

When you only stared at her in utter confusion, she laughed, completely relaxed which only caused to spiral into more perplexion.

“I forgot to mention which one! It’s the one at the end of the right hall.” 

You only raised an eyebrow at her, clutching your bag. Why was she acting so natural? As if telling you that you needed to report to practice when you were told very clearly that you were out as if that was the most normal thing in the world. 

“I don’t… I don’t have anything to perform though?” You stared at her.

She gazed back, looking at you as if you had just confessed the worst murder of all time.

“Yes you do?” She replied. “Come on. You’ll be late.”

Maybe this was all some sick joke. Still incredibly confused, you followed her out onto the hallway, all the way down to an unfamiliar practice room. This whole section was dedicated to something else. Something that wasn’t… ballet or contemporary.

She gestured for you to open the door. Looking at her with a bored expression, you pushed the door open and in just a split second, you were gaping at the person who stood at the doorway.

Oh my god. 

Your hand tightened around the doorknob, threatening to slam the door closed in hopes that this was all a bad dream. But the door refused to budge. 

Changmin. Changmin had placed his foot down to stop it from moving an inch. He tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He looked at you completely seriously. Which you hated. Because you had really hoped this was all a joke.

“What are you doing here?” You still attempted to shut the door. But he still held it open.

But suddenly, another man appeared. You didn’t recognize him but you assumed he was Changmin’s own dance instructor. He had on a bright, enthusiastic smile, much unalike to your own who constantly had a stern, disappointed frown.

“Y/n!” He spoke marvelously. “Splendid choice, ‘min.”

Changmin only glanced at you, slightly sheepishly and with his ears were tinted red. He quickly recovered though which made you wonder why he was shy in the first place.

“Surprise surprise?” He smugly grinned.

You were absolutely speechless, unable to say anything. All you could do was stare—gape at him with a dropped jaw.

“What?” You blurted out.

Changmin almost laughed at your reaction. But still, he led you out to the hallway. Hopefully for some sort of explanation.

“You’re my new dance partner.”

Okay, that wasn’t the explanation that you wanted.

“You’re what?” You practically exclaimed.

“You heard me,” He whispered. His eyes darted to the practice room briefly. “He’ll be teaching you the moves for the first few days and then we’ll practice together,” He explained in a completely calm voice.

What was up with everyone and acting completely natural in such an absurd situation?”

“Are we not going to talk about the fact that you chose me to be your dance partner,” You deadpanned. “We’re supposed to hate each other.”

“Then still do,” He sighed. “But trust me on this.” He stepped closer and in the corner of your eye, you could see his hand twitch—almost like he was going to grab yours.

“How many times will you ask me to trust you?” You asked quietly. “That’s not very easy, especially after you’ve practically insulted me all these years.”

“I know, and I’m—“ The apology that threatened to escape his lips was interrupted by the door opening. His instructor poked a head out with an excited smile.

“What’s taking you lovebirds so long?” He wiggled his eyebrows. And now that you looked closely, you could read his ID card that read, “Eric.” He looked oddly young to be an instructor but you didn’t question it, too focused on the fact that you now had to dance with your one and only rival.

Changmin scowled. “Give us a minute won’t you? I’m still older than you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He sighed before disappearing back into the room.

Changmin turned back to you, looking at you with soft eyes that only caused your stomach to twist even more.

“Yesterday,” He breathed. “You looked…”

“Like shit? I know,” You snapped.

“No! You—“ He groaned. “I can’t explain it right now. But Y/n.” Again, his hand twitched to hold yours.

“What?” Your voice was meek. Why were you suddenly so nervous?

“I’m not blind to see that you’re talented. And who was it who told me that I should find someone who complimented my dancing?” He paused and winced sheepishly. “Even if completely intolerable.”

“You think that I compliment your dancing?” You whispered. “But we never danced together before.”

“All the more reason to test it out?” He gave you an unsure smile.

You bit your lip, completely conflicted.

“Changmin… I don’t know.”

He looked at you, his gaze gentle. “If you want to back out, that’s fine. I just—“ His cheeks were flushed again, a pretty pink. Pretty? “I wanted to do something. For you.”

Your eyes searched his, looking for any spark of amusement. But, he still looked back at you earnestly.

“Aren’t we rivals?” You asked again.

“Are we?” He simply replied, never providing you with an actual answer.

“We are,” You breathed out, but the way your voice trembled slightly wasn’t very convincing. 

“Whatever you want,” He whispered. “So what do you say, dear rival?” The way he said the last word wasn’t convincing either. None of this was convincing.

You sighed, defeated and unable to find a reason to say no. Hanging your head low, you noticed the way his hand ghosted over yours. Was it there all that time?

“Fine,” You muttered. “But don’t expect much.”

He hummed teasingly. “I expect a lot from someone as talented as you.”

And much to your horror, you felt yourself blush. Shoving him with an annoyed (embarrassed) scowl, you stepped away, finally noticing just how close he was to you.

“Shut up,” You said. “Let’s keep this completely professional.”

“Whatever you want,” He repeated, smiling softly.

—

You hated to admit it but the duet was fun. It was so unlike what you usually learned. You were used to the perfectly practiced poses, the straightened back, and the straining of all your limbs to get that pristine, elegant image that you were supposed to keep up. But this dance… was more freeing. It had a romantic aspect to it but it was fun and energetic while still telling a story through the choreography. 

A love story of all things.

However, you did notice that it was hard to learn the dance alone. Even if you asked Eric to dance in place as Changmin temporarily, he would refuse, saying it would ruin the “chemistry” between you two.

What chemistry? There was none. You were sure of that. 

But even the voice in your head wavered over that statement.

Now, the time that you dreaded has arrived. The one when you would actually have to practice the choreography with your dance partner.

To say it was awkward was an understatement. It was appallingly difficult.

The two of you wouldn’t stop bickering. It wasn’t really Changmin correcting your dance like you had thought. It was just… bickering.

“What if I stepped on your foot right now?” You grinned.

“Don’t,” He groaned. “It already hurts.”

“But it would be funny.”

“My ankle is twisted,” He replied with a frown, grimacing.

Immediately you were widening your eyes and stepping forward. You didn’t even notice that you were looking him over with worry.

“It is?” And just like he had done before, your hand ghosted over his. “Why didn’t you get it checked? You should be resti—“

Except he only regarded you with a smug smile.

“Is someone worried for me?”

You stared at him, your mouth agape. And then you grumbled, stepping away, only to feel a spark through your wrist where it brushed against his knuckles.

“Your ankle isn’t twisted,” You gritted out.

He grinned wider. “It’s not but I appreciate your worry anyway.”

“I was not worrying,” You muttered, looking away.

He huffed. “And my name isn’t Changmin.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Get what over with?”

“This… move,” You mumbled, letting your eyes travel down to his hand. What was up with you and his hands? You didn’t know either.

And by this move, you meant the move where the two of you would have to hold hands and he would twirl you and pull you close, and— you hated everything about it.

“Don’t we just—“ He was the one who took the lead, guiding your hand gently to his. But he paused in his tracks once he felt your pinky link with his. And like he was electrocuted, he pulled his hand back.

You held back a smile, finding this awkwardness all too painfully amusing. 

“Do we intertwine the fingers or…” He trailed off.

“Or just hold palms?” You offered, cringing at how warm your face felt at the moment.

“No, we’re supposed to—“ He reached forward, grabbing your hand in an odd way, his fingers hilariously stiff.

“Ah,” You whined. “It feels weird.”

He huffed, his ears red. “Of course it does. We never…”

If Eric was monitoring the two of you right now—which he said he would in an hour or two—he would have bursted out laughing at the sight. The both of you facing each other, hands fumbling with frustrated faces—one would think you were playing a game of rock, paper, scissors.

“What are you doing?” You whispered, staring at the way he just poked one finger into your palm.

“What are you doing?” He whispered back, glaring at the way your fingers closed around his ring finger.

“I can’t—“ You groaned. “I can’t do this with you.”

“You have to. Just—“ And like a leap of faith, he finally reached forward properly and grabbed your hand in his. After all those instances of your hands merely hovering, it felt almost… nice to feel his warm skin properly. His hand was comforting and you watched with wide eyes at the way he so naturally intertwined his fingers with yours.

Your breath was caught in your throat and you observed silently as he brought your connected hands up to his chest, holding it close. He looked up at you, his gaze softening.

“Like this?” He whispered.

“Yes,” You replied, almost breathlessly.

He gave you a small smirk. “Then focus.” 

And without a warning, he brought your hand up and twirled you around. You stumbled slightly but managed to gain your balance as he pulled you in, right up to his chest. Instead of just your hands, it was your whole body against him.

“See?” He smiled down at you, slightly out of breath. “Wasn’t so bad right?”

“Professional,” You breathed out. “It’s because I’m being professional.”

“Mhm,” He eyed you teasingly. His eyes trailed down. “Do professionals still hold hands even after practice is done?”

You gasped quietly, embarrassment flooding through you.

“Oh, I—” You tried to pull your hand out of his grasp but he only tightened further, keeping your hand in his. His hold was gentle and warm, which put a funny feeling in your chest. You narrowed your eyes. “Changmin,” You warned.

“It’s comfortable,” He murmured and before you could protest, he was bringing your hand up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of it.

Your breath hitched in your throat. “You’re so annoying.” You glared.

He only pressed another kiss as a response, leaving you stuttering.

–

Another thing you hated to admit: you had grown closer to Changmin. Blah blah, you’re still rivals of course. Just maybe… with more smiles and friendly remarks. That’s normal, isn’t it? For enemies?

The dance routine drastically improved. The two of you were comfortable with holding hands now, moving past each other with fleeting touches. It became almost natural. But then again, that was just what happened when you were being professional. Obviously.

But still, nothing could compare to the growth of your relationship with him. You didn’t hate it. It felt nice to have someone who understood you. You learned more about him as a person. You learned that he was always exhausted after dancing and then learned that he often forgot to eat anything after practice. They go hand-in-hand. So it became–much to your disliking–your job to bring him a small snack every day so that he wouldn’t faint. 

He learned more about you as a person too. He learned that you weren’t used to freestyling or experimenting since you were so trained to have a picture-perfect image. When he learned that, it became–much to his… liking–his job to make you laugh and relax whenever you got too caught up in your internal expectations.

He wasn’t so bad after all. 

He was still annoying though. Just like right now.

“Just once,” He pleaded. “Try it.”

“I’m not– used to the choreography being changed. Or anything being changed.” You gave him a nervous look, your fingers fidgeting restlessly. “And you know that.” Your voice quietened as all the memories of people criticizing you came rushing through. 

His gaze softened as he studied your anxious-ridden features. “I do know that. But that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

You looked at him skeptically. “I’m not like you.”

“You’re not,” He agreed. “You’re you. And that’s what I find amazing.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “That’s not–”

He shook his head, taking a step forward. He opened his mouth to speak but you shushed him with a simple glare.

“And don’t you dare ask me to trust you,” You ridiculed. 

He gave you an amused smile. “How’d you predict that?”

“Because you’ve asked me plenty of times,” You deadpanned.

“Ah…” He grinned. “You’re right. And every time I do, you reply that you don’t.”

You grew silent at that. And then you let your eyes trail down, away from his gaze. You noticed that whenever you did so, he never let his own eyes wander. They were always on you. Across the room, the hallway, even when you were sitting right in front of him.

With a deep breath, your cheeks beginning to flush already, you spoke something so quietly that he had to lean in to hear.

“I trust you now though.”

You heard his breath hitch, causing you to look up into his eyes. And were his eyes always so… bright and sparkly?

“You trust me?” He whispered.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“If we weren’t so short on time, I would.” He smiled. He reached down and like it was the most common occurrence, he took your hand in his, leading you to the middle of the room. “Then, if you trust me, won’t you do the thing?”

“What thing?”

“That thing.”

You stared at him, trying to feign innocence so that you could somehow get out of it. But he only looked at you, almost challenging you with his gaze.

Eventually, you groaned in defeat. “Fine,” You grumbled.

The next move, which the two of you had already perfected, was a simple touch on the waist and that was it. But Changmin just had to come up with a new idea. He insisted on a dip. The type of dip that was reserved for people who were actually in love and… had feelings for each other. Which, the two of you definitely didn’t fit in that type of category. Professional dancers was all.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” You spoke over the music. 

He smiled charmingly. “Just enjoy the moment. It will.”

And so, holding your breath, you approached him. His hand automatically came to your waist, just like it had in the original move. But then, he slowly, guided you so that you were leaning backward. Feeling yourself grow warm over his gentle touch that held you steady so that you wouldn’t fall, you allowed yourself to fall. Literally, into his arms. 

After the count was over, he gently brought you back to stand up. And yet another thing that you hated to admit: that new dance move left your heart pounding. And it wasn’t from exhilaration. 

You were breathless as you stared at him in shock. It all came rushing to you. The small details–the softness of his eyes, the hands that held onto your waist tightly but never enough to hurt, the small smile on his lips when he probably noticed that you had blushed.

A quiet “oh” was all you could muster.

He gave you a soft smile. You noticed that was the only thing he regarded you with these days. Occasionally, it would be his usual, teasing, mocking smile. But recently, it’s just been that one that left your hands feeling sweaty.

“And if I said I told you so?” 

“Don’t,” You scowled.

But he only leaned closer. You weren’t even doing the move again yet his hand still found its place on your lower back again. And like you were in a trance, your eyes fluttered as you drew closer to him. You looked straight into his eyes, only for you to realize that he wasn’t returning that same eye contact. Instead, his gaze flickered down to your lips. You sputtered and your hands flew to his chest, trying to create more distance.

“Don’t get too carried away,” You murmured.

“I wasn’t,” He whispered. “It was you who was leaning closer.”

“No,” You breathed. “It was you.”

He watched you fondly. Of course, he would notice the way you stumbled over your words.

“Maybe it was the both of us.”

—

One would think that after the routine was perfected—which it was—the two of you would be off to perform it, get those congratulatory flowers, and be off. But no. There was always that extra step of the stage rehearsal.

It was the one where you had to practice the routine on the actual stage, in front of two people: Changmin’s instructor Eric, and your instructor. You haven’t seen her since she kicked you off, so you couldn’t help your eyes from darting to her ever-growing sneer.

You always despised this part, mostly because it was nerve-wracking. Even though there were only two people in the audience, the spotlights, and the music blaring through the speakers made it all feel real.

It didn’t help that your instructor kept writing things in her clipboard. And it was only when you were in the center. For heaven’s sake, Eric didn’t even own a clipboard.

“You’re shaking,” A deeper voice whispered.

You blinked and turned to where Changmin was standing in front of you. It was no use hiding anything from him. It was almost like he could read you like a book.

You shook your head, pulling him into position. But, it was hard as it was him facing away from the crowd while you… you had to face the audience—more specifically, your instructor.

“I’m just tired,” You whispered as your eyes glanced down. Eric was smiling softly while she picked up her pen, leaving your heart pounding. Changmin turned to look at you briefly and you could feel his gaze, focused on how you fidgeted nervously.

“I tried to tell her that she didn’t need to come to the rehearsal,” He muttered back, his hand coming up to your waist just like the choreography asked. “But she insisted.”

You hummed. “I wonder why.”

“Ignore her,” He replied, guiding your hand up to his shoulder. Just like the choreography asked.

“I can’t,” You whispered, your voice almost pleading. “She’s looking at me.”

Suddenly, you felt his hand close around your waist tightly as he shifted the position. You watched, bewildered once you realized that even though his back was still to the crowd, he was shielding you with his body. Away from prying eyes, away from anyone who would make you nervous, he stood in front of you, his arm protectively around your body.

This was not the choreography. This wasn’t what it asked. Yet it made you feel that smallest bit of solace that you needed all this time.

“Better?” He spoke in a hushed tone, giving you a reassuring smile.

Unable to do or say anything, you only looked at him with flushed cheeks before nodding quietly.

He only continued to follow your features with his soft gaze. He never attempted to make you move, knowing that you were still nervous, your hand on his shoulder tightening in intervals whenever you remembered that you were still being watched. Instead, he just stayed put, watching you and making sure you were okay.

Alarms blared in your ears, telling you that you needed to start dancing or else you would be scolded. But, with Changmin’s hand closed around your waist, you couldn’t help but melt. You were sure that the two instructors were watching–probably extremely confused, but you were more focused on someone else. Changmin–whose body shielded you from the blinding stage lights and whose eyes scanned over you attentively.

“Thank you,” was what you could finally muster up with a soft voice.

He gave you a small tilt of his head, accompanied by a lilt of his lips. 

“Of course,” He replied. “Take your time. Whenever you’re ready.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head with a growing smile. “They’re waiting.”

“So let them wait.”

Your shoulders shook with a silent laugh. You were about to joke about how endearing he looked when protective but you stopped for two reasons. One–you were supposed to be rivals and that wouldn’t be a very rival-y thing to say. Two–Eric spoke up, his loud voice echoing through the concert hall.

“Alright,” He yelled, his voice laced with a teasing tone. “Lovebirds, let’s take five!”

Clearing your throat, your cheeks flaming, you pulled away from his hold. You didn’t notice Changmin staring after you longingly.

–

The five-minute break came and went a bit too quickly for your liking. Luckily, Eric had somehow convinced your instructor to take a lunch break. As you were fixing up the laces of your shoes, he approached you with a kind smile.

“She’s all done and taken care of,” The younger man joked, brushing off his shoulder comically. You smiled in relief. And then he sat down next to you. “Listen. On the agenda, I’m supposed to evaluate each of you individually, to make sure everything’s down and ready. So, during her lunch break, let’s get that done. Yeah?”

You nodded and stood up, approaching the stage. Oh, but you hated how steep the stairs were. Trying not to stumble, you took the first step. You were about to take the second when you felt another presence behind you. You hated how you could recognize him immediately.

You felt Changmin’s hand, gently take yours as he helped you up the stairs. When finally up on the stage, you turned around to tease him about being such a gentleman. But, his back was already turned, walking away.

But when you narrowed your eyes and looked closely, you could see his hand flex. Almost like he was embarrassed and… nervous after helping you up on the stage.

You caught yourself smiling, your heart blooming into something new. Except, you weren’t quite sure if it actually was new.

But Eric’s voice caught you off guard, shaking you out of your little trance.

“What’s so amusing?” He grinned.

You shook your head, biting back a shy smile. “Nothing.”

–

“How’s it feel? Your stylist looked you over, even giving you jazz hands to help you cheer up. Dress rehearsal–literally meant that you had to wear your performance outfit even when the audience was practically empty. 

You scrunched your face up in discomfort, looking at yourself in the mirror. You had to admit, it was a pretty look. It incorporated various little details of what you were most familiar with, ballet. It was a graceful, flowy outfit but there was something different about it. There were other… parts to it. Spontaneous colors and pieces stuck out, representing your dance partner.

And of course, there was romance in it. Roses specifically, delicately sewn into the fabric. And there was a bright red one, tucked behind your ear.

“It’s beautiful,” You whispered. But just at that moment, you twitched awkwardly. “A little itchy.”

Your stylist laughed, pulling at a loose seam. “It’s just one night.”

You froze, your shoulders raising. “Yeah,” You breathed. “One night.” And it would all be over. This impetuous thing. After that one night, you would be forced to go back to keeping up that image that you hated and loved at the same time. You would return to the same routine of scolding because you didn’t do well enough and the scorn looks because you couldn’t lift your leg high enough. 

And Changmin.

He would be over too. He would go his own way, dancing with experimentation and freedom. You wouldn’t see him except on your breaks which only resulted in petty arguments and glares. What would happen to those kind smiles that you would share occasionally and the fleeting touches even when you weren’t practicing the choreography? Would it all disappear?

“Is everything okay?” The stylist asked. 

You blinked and straightened up. “Great,” You said as you forced a smile. With a deep breath, you headed to the door, ready to greet Changmin who must also be dressed in his own outfit. 

As you walked onto the stage, you froze once again when you saw him standing in front of you, a sheepish smile on his lips. 

“Hi,” You whispered, looking him over. Oh, you hated it. You hated everything–how he looked charming with his hair so meticulously styled, how the flowy, white shirt hugged his shoulders and waist so perfectly, how his eyes naturally sparkled, even when the stage lights were off.

“Hey, you.” He grinned. And you hated how his gaze traveled over you slowly, taking in the sight. Suddenly, you felt the urge to wrap your arms over yourself.

You gave him a small laugh, stepping forward. There was no one else in the concert hall right now. Eric and the director of the recital must be running late. And yes, somehow, Changmin managed to keep your instructor from coming back in the meantime. It was just the two of you, standing in the middle of the stage, unlit but bright enough to emphasize both of your shy smiles.

You hated him. 

But… his smile and his soft gaze. It was all too hard to resist.

Clearing your throat, you played with the hem of your clothes. “What do you…” You trailed off, fighting the urge to stumble over your words nervously. “What do you think?” You looked at him expectantly. He only stared at you wordlessly, which only furthered your anxiousness. Forcing a roll of your eyes, trying to act natural, you shifted on your feet and avoided his watchful gaze. “And don’t say I look bad because I’m sure that–”

“You look pretty.”

You inhaled sharply, whipping your head to look at him again. His smile looked almost fond and he never seemed to take his eyes off you. Instead, he only leaned closer, bending his head forward to observe the rose tucked behind your ear.

“Very pretty,” He whispered. You could only stay there, completely rigid as you felt his hand come up to the side of your face to adjust that same rose, his touch light and gentle. 

“Oh,” You finally breathed out. “Thank you.” You cursed at yourself for lowering your voice from embarrassment. It only made him lean closer to hear you.

And it seemed that Eric had burst through the doors, only to witness the two of you stupidly smiling at each other.

–

Just like you had expected, Eric and the director watched your routine. Over and over, you had to perform it so that they would catch any mistakes. By the fifth time, the two of you were practically gasping for air.

“One more time?” Eric suggested, looking at you with pity once he noticed you almost fall over from exhaustion if it wasn’t for Changmin who steadied you with a simple touch on your waist.

But then, the director stepped forward. “Actually,” She spoke up. “I think that we just have to get the ending right.”

You glanced at Changmin, only for him to do the same. Just like your brief glances, the position at the very end of the performance was always awkward. The two of you could never quite get it down.

Since the dance was more on the… romantic side, you were expected to face each other, hands intertwined and held close to your chests. And Eric had especially emphasized staring very deeply into your eyes, much to your dismay. Oh and to stand very close–so close that you were practically kissing.

But, you always refused. Changmin as well. You would take a step back and he would hold your hand a bit further away from his chest, creating an odd-looking distance.

So that was what you did. Which, didn’t seem to satisfy the director at all.

“That’s all you can do?” She questioned, leaning forward in her chair. “Put more into it!”

You bit your lip nervously, taking a half-step closer.

“More!” She exclaimed, causing Eric to laugh evilly.

Changmin glared at them playfully before yanking you forward, right up against his chest. You sputtered, looking at him in surprise. He gave you a small, soft smile, though there was still a hint of teasing behind his eyes.

The director stayed silent and for a moment, you thought that she was satisfied enough. But then, she slammed her hand down. “More! You can do better than that!”

Your palms were practically sweating from how long you were holding hands and your face also felt incredibly hot from how close his lips were to yours. But still, with a sigh, you shuffled ever so closer, until the front of your shoes were touching. Changmin simply watched you with gentle eyes.

“Mor–”

Eric groaned, and you could see him standing up in protest in his peripheral view. He threw his hand out to the stage. “Is this not close enough?”

The director snickered. “Oh, definitely. I just wanted to see how close they willingly would get.”

Immediately, the two of you were blushing. But still, Changmin didn’t make a move to step backward and away from you. And so, you gulped, choosing to avoid his gaze.

“On second thought,” Eric called out. “You’re kind of off-center… if you guys could move to the right a bit?”

After this, you would be done. You would perform the routine on the recital night and this would all be over. Except, you weren’t too sure if you wanted it to be over. You were still deciding on that. When you looked up into Changmin’s eyes, you found that invisible weight–the one that leaned to you wanting this to last forever–to become heavier and heavier.

Ignoring your rushing thoughts, you shuffled to the right, your hands still grasping his. He shuffled along with you, taking mini-steps backward until you reached the tape on the floor that signaled the center.

You stared at Changmin, eyes sparkling as he did the same. And then, you found yourself laughing. Laughing for what? You weren’t sure, but you felt like you were brimming with joy. The awkward shuffling to get to the center, the warm hands intertwined with yours, the surprised yet oddly fond look on his face when you giggled–you couldn’t help but just… feel a certain emotion. You weren’t sure what. Was it relaxation or something else?

He looked at you, his own smile growing on his lips. And then he joined in on you with the laughing, leaning closer to hide his face in your neck.

And yes, you were still in that same ending position. Except, it wasn’t awkward anymore.

“I envy you,” The director sighed, dramatically falling back into her chair. “You have such heart-pounding, romantic chemistry!’

The both of you froze and turned to her in panic.

“Oh, no–” You rushed to say, only to be cut off by Changmin who was also panicking.

“We’re not like–”

Eric only raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “You cannot be that blind,” He deadpanned. “Just look in front of you.”

When you looked back into Changmin’s eyes, you not only saw it–the eyes that you dreamed about more often and the lips that you sometimes wondered how they tasted–but you could feel the now familiar pounding in your heart. You wondered if he felt the same.

–

On the night before the performance, you found yourself sitting on a bench outside of the dance studio. The crickets were chirping, keeping you from being completely alone with your thoughts. You tried to count the stars or the cars that passed by, but it was of no use, as all you could think of were the endless possibilities of the recital going completely wrong.

But your ears picked up the sound of someone’s footsteps, slightly kicking at the concrete. And then he sat next to you. Changmin. It was always him. And for some reason, you found his warmth almost comforting–something that melted away the rigid clasp around your nerves.

“Okay?” He asked, his tone quiet to match the atmosphere of the calm night that differed from your tight chest.

“Yeah,” You whispered, turning to him. He wasn’t looking. Maybe he was trying to count the stars too. “Just…” You sighed, embarrassed. “Nervous.”

“Don’t be.” He smiled as he turned to face you. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m…” You tilted your head and furrowed your eyebrows.

“What?” He widened his eyes cutely. “You don’t think so? Though,” He laughed briefly. “Better than me? Probably no–”

“No,” You blurted out, catching him off guard. “I’m just–” You exhaled with frustration and confusion. “Why are you so nice to me? I thought we were…” You trailed off then, choosing to turn back to the twinkling stars. Yet they only reminded you of his eyes.

“Rivals? We still are,” He joked. 

You could only give him a weak laugh in response. He looked at you cautiously before turning his gaze down to his lap where his fingers were fidgeting nervously.

“But as for caring for you…” He spoke quietly. “Take a wild guess.”

You looked at him, trying to decipher his strange behavior. But, all you could get from your observations was that his cheeks and ears were oddly red. 

“Because…” You thought for a moment. “If you weren’t you would be kicked off the team?”

He gave you a small smile but shook his head. 

“Because you’re in a particularly good mood?”

“No,” He breathed out.

And you knew that there was one more reason. But you were terrified to say it. You didn’t know why but it was just… frightening. But, when he only gazed at you expectantly, you knew that you were being forced to say it.

“Because you…” Your voice quietened, but you knew that Changmin could see the way your mouth formed the word ‘like.’ Slowly, your voice grew in volume to finish the question. “...me?”

And what was even more terrifying was that he nodded wordlessly. Or was it thrilling? You couldn’t tell. But all you knew was that your heart was beating fast again. And it was all for a different reason.

“Changmin,” You whispered, too shocked to form a cohesive sentence. “I–”

“I do,” He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for an answer. “It’s because I like you.”

And it hit you like the spot lights did to your eyes. He would always smile at you softly, distract you whenever you were nervous, and his touches were always gentle. You thought it was just part of his demeanor but now, things were different now. He never regarded others with that affectionate smile and soft gaze. It was only when his eyes would land on you, that his expression would change into something strangely affectionate.

“I don’t know what to say,” You shakily replied, watching as he stood up from the bench. He gave you a small smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” He mumbled, about to turn away but your hands grasped onto his sleeve. 

“Wait,” You rushed to say. He turned to you, his eyes filled with hope and disappointment, all at the same time. “Changmin.”

“Hm?” 

“After this night… will we go back to the way we were?” You looked up at him. And instead of pulling his wrist out of your grasp, he reached forward, enclosing your hand in his. Your eyes flitted down to his action, breath held.

“Do you mean when I would think of you every day?” He raised an eyebrow.

You playfully slapped him. Or, at least tried to, until he tightened his hold on your hand, keeping you still.

“Don’t lie.” You rolled your eyes.

He shook his head before gently guiding you to stand up with him. You followed and then you gasped quietly when you felt a rose being tucked behind your ear, just like your stylist had done for your outfit–for your performance tomorrow.

“I’m not lying,” He whispered. “I never was.”

You swallowed thickly. “Even when you said that I remind you of… the moonlight?”

He hummed before adjusting the rose slightly so that it sat perfectly in your hair. And that was when you realized the rose was blue, rather than the classic red. You watched him curiously until he gave you a soft smile. 

He tapped the rose gently, his fingertip brushing against your ear. 

“You’re just like the moonlight.”

–

You breathed in deeply, closing your eyes until you heard the curtains rise and the shuffle of the audience, expectantly waiting for your performance. It only took you a few hours before to find out that your duet with Changmin was the most anticipated one. In fact, it was on the front page of the pamphlet and displayed brightly on one of those LED screens outside of the concert hall.

When you blinked your eyes open, you were met with millions–at least it felt like it–of faces staring back at you. Immediately, you felt the need to freeze up and forget everything that you’ve worked so hard for. But once you felt that familiar squeeze on your waist from the man who stood next to you, everything came rushing back to you.

Soon enough, the music started and like it was automatic, your head snapped up to face him. The beginning move, the one that you practiced the most unintentionally, was easy to spot the differences over the time. When you first started practicing together, he wouldn’t even look you in the eye out of arrogance.  Now, even though he still wouldn’t, you could see that it was for a different reason. He was too embarrassed to.

As you moved to the rhythm, fleeting touches on his shoulder and down his chest before breaking apart, you realized that so much has changed. The hesitant grasp on your waist was firm now–protective. 

He wasn’t always too embarrassed to look you in the eye. Sometimes, when he would pull you into his chest, he would stare so deeply that the stage lights that already felt hot, began to feel much alike to the sun. 

Sometimes, you would hear the occasional baby crying in the crowd or the applause when Changmin would do that dip that you were so adamant on not doing, only for it to be one of your favorite parts to do, but other than that, all that resonated through your ears was the beating of your heart. Partly from exhilaration and partly for someone else. Him.

You hated him, but oh, you liked him so much. 

And when the ending came and he would pull you close while intertwining his fingers with yours, you allowed yourself to fall. Maybe not physically because that wouldn’t end well on the tall stage, but in some other way. A way that signaled to him to pull you so close and for him to lean down so that his lips hovered right over yours.

The music had already ended and the audience was clapping and whistling. Yet to you, it went silent. All you could hear was Changmin’s breathing against your lips and all you could see were his soft, loving eyes.

Slowly, you felt his hand let go of yours and for a second you thought that you might have gone too far. But then, you felt that same hand tighten around your waist, yanking you close enough that his bottom lip brushed against yours, sending shivers down your spine.

There were no words spoken but the two of you immediately got the message to close your eyes and… fall once again. You leaned forward, about to press your lips to his in which he hummed softly. But then, the curtain fell with a loud thump and you broke apart. Before you could say or do anything, you were being rushed out by the staff, with only a glimpse of the longing in his face.

Your hand came up to where the rose tucked in your hair and you pulled it out. You observed the red petals, twirling the stem of it until it broke apart in your hand. You liked the blue version better.

–

Your fingers lingered over your own lips, wondering what it would feel like if you had just leaned that tiny bit closer–wondered if he would kiss back. His warm breath that fanned over and his soft, soft gaze as his eyes wandered down came rushing back until your stomach was fluttering with butterflies all over again. 

“Y/n?” One of the staff poked her head in. “The curtain call’s in five.”

“Oh, right.” You abruptly stood up, smoothing down your outfit. Your hair was down now, rid of any clips and pins. The rose was long gone. 

She ushered you to the door. “You and your partner have a separate spotlight. Since… you know,” She laughed shyly. “Everyone just loved your performance.”

You froze. “They did?”

She looked at you like you were crazy before leading you down the hallway leading to the stage. “It’s all the crowd’s been talking about! The chemistry, the romance, the love… it was all so clear. How did you do it so naturally?”

Your breath hitched, unsure yourself. “I… I guess because it was real.”

She hummed, eyeing you teasingly before gesturing to the stage. You took in a deep breath, and walked to the center of the stage. It was dark–the curtains down with only the sound of the murmuring crowd. When you looked up, you could see Changmin approaching you, a warm smile on his lips.

As he stood next to you, his hand grasped yours and he nudged you with his shoulder.

“Nervous?” He joked.

You smiled shyly. “I am actually.”

“And why’s that?” He glanced at you with bright, sparkling eyes, even without the stage lights shining on the two of you.

“Because I’m with you. You make me nervous,” You whispered. His eyes widened slightly and his hand tightened on yours.

You could hear the countdown for the curtains to pull up, but you ignored it once Changmin had leaned closer.

“Listen,” He watched you cautiously. “What we did back there… did you mea–”

“Yes,” You rushed to say. 

Before he could respond, the curtains were rising up and again, the stage lights blared in your vision. Now, you could hear the loud cheers of the audience and you were filled with that exhilarating, heart-beating feeling all over again. When you turned to Changmin, you realized that he was staring back, a dazed look in his eyes.

With a squeeze of his hand, the two of you bowed, smiling brightly. You were about to let go of his hand to wave at the crowd when suddenly, you felt him tug on your hand, hard enough that you were pulled right against his chest.

He steadied you with a hand on your waist. And in the corner of your eye, you felt something being tucked behind your ear. You couldn’t see it but you knew exactly what it was. A blue rose.

He leaned in, just like before with his lips right in front of yours. You held back a smile as you looked up into his soft eyes.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, quiet enough so that only you could hear.

“Yes.” You spoke your loudest, over the growing cheers and applause from the crowd. “This is perfect.”

He smiled before pulling you in and pressing his lips against yours. For the third time that evening, you felt butterflies in your stomach as your eyes fluttered closed. You allowed yourself to finally and completely fall into the moment—into him, into his arms, and into his love as his grip on you tightened ever so slightly so that he could move his lips comfortably against yours. 

When you pulled away, eventually interrupted by the staff gesturing to you hurriedly when you peeked an eye open, you looked up at him before bursting out into a shy smile. The cheers were even louder now, which only caused Changmin to blush a pretty pink.

–

After being led off the stage and changed out of your outfits, the two of you met at the hallway that led to the exit–away from the spotlights. It was just you now, holding his hand, swinging it shyly as you occasionally stole glances at him. 

But just before you reached the door, he was turning you around and kissing you up against a wall. You allowed him to, feeling your heart beat erratically. But then again, that was a common thing now when with him.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for the longest time,” He muttered, breaking apart with flushed cheeks.

You smiled. “How long?”

“Ever since you gave me that playful smile when you called me a piece of shit that one time.” He grinned.

You burst out laughing. “That was so long ago,” You joked. “There’s no way you– you’re serious?” Now you were gaping at him.

He nodded shyly before hiding his face in your neck. “I loved your smile. I thought you were so beautiful when I first laid eyes on you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t say I felt the same,” You muttered. “I actually despised you.”

He chuckled, pulling away to press another kiss to your lips. “Do you despise me now?”

You blushed. “No, I don–” You were cut off by another kiss and his adorable laugh. You grumbled, slapping him shyly. “I take it back. I still despise you.”

“And I’m in love with you,” He replied, playing with the rose tucked in your hair, a fond smile worn on his lips.

—

“What is this?” You giggled, approaching where he was sitting on the floor of the balcony, completely ignoring the chairs that were perfectly placed there for sitting.

You didn’t take into account that giving your boyfriend the code to your apartment door would lead to him breaking into it without permission. One time, you came home, completely exhausted from practice and he popped out of a corner to scare you for the fun of it. It ended in a lot of screams and slapping. But still, he apologized and took care of you for the rest of the evening.

The two of you did go your separate ways…in terms of dance of course. You went back to ballet and high expectations. But at least you had someone to listen to you—someone who always told you that you were doing amazing whether that be through whispered words or kisses and hugs.

He, on the other hand, continued to experiment through various dance styles. One of the recent ones that he learned was the art of tango, ironically enough. And yes, he often pressured you to practice with him. You hated to admit it, but whenever he “serenaded you with his body” (as wrong as it sounded, that’s literally what he said when he danced with you), you couldn’t help but flush slightly, especially when he would kiss you before twirling you.

All of your friends, Eric especially, were delighted to find out you were dating. According to them, you’ve been in love with him this whole time and vice versa. You couldn’t deny it.

Everyday, you fell more and more in love with him. Apart from his constant teasing, he was the sweetest boyfriend one could find. He supported you in all of your endeavors, pressing kisses all over your face while whispering “I’m so proud of you.” Even when you insisted that it was corny, you secretly loved it.

And just now, you walked in on him setting up a picnic on your own balcony. Candles were lit and it seemed that he even cooked for you.

He gave you an adorably warm smile.

“To celebrate your special solo performance coming up, I present to you a coupon for a free date with me.” He grinned, gesturing for you to sit down.

You laughed bashfully, kneeling down in front of him. Like usual, he greeted you with a kiss.

“Are you saying I have to pay for every other date?”

“My love is priceless.”

“Fine,” You huffed playfully. “Let’s break up.”

He gasped. “You would never.”

“You know I wouldn’t.” You scrunched your nose. He smiled in response, watching you silently. You began to grow shy, looking away to stare out at the city view. It was the evening, the street lights and the unfortunate view of small windows lit with overtime office workers twinkling. 

But you felt a gentle hand cupping the side of your face, guiding you to look back at him. Then, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he gazed at you affectionately.

“My beautiful,” He whispered, tilting his head.

Your heart thumped but you still found yourself frowning grumpily.

“Don’t call me that.”

His eyes widened slightly as he pouted. “Why not?”

“Last time you called me beautiful you said I was intolerable right after,” You grumbled.

He whined, slapping his hands over your cheeks to squish them playfully which in turn, caused you to yelp.

“You know I didn’t mean it,” He breathed. “How was I supposed to tell Juyeon that I had the biggest crush on you?”

You laughed loudly, smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt. The candles flickered before they blew out, leaving it dark enough that the only source of light was the moon.

“Then what would you like me to call you?” He asked. He glanced up at the night sky before smiling back down at you. “Moonlight?”

“Mmm…” You thought for a moment. And then you smiled shyly. “You can only call me moonlight when you feel the happiest and… the most in love.”

It took him a moment to register your words but then his eyes lit up. He scooted forward so that his lips lingered right over your forehead. And then he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

“Moonlight,” He whispered.

“Oh,” You stuttered. He didn’t respond, instead, moving to press another kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Moonlight,” He muttered again, louder this time as his hand trailed down to caress your jaw.

You shut your eyes, suddenly overcome by the need to hide your face. But still, you felt his lips now hover over yours. He tilted your chin up, pulling you into the softest kiss you’ve ever experienced.

“My moonlight.”

You flushed pink, looking at him with wide eyes. “You—“

“I do feel the happiest and the most in love.” He smiled. “Right now.”

Immediately you were melting into his touch before gaining enough strength to lurch forward, throw your hands around his neck, and kiss him as much as you could. 

“Me too,” You giggled.

Even though you were expected to keep up that model image, you secretly enjoyed the beauty of letting that go for someone who saw you for who you were. He saw you without the practiced poses and faked smiles, instead choosing to love your random quirks and imperfect features.

He smiled, wrapping his arms around you.

“You are my Clair de lune.”

[mewmewdoppio]

A sma𝗹l billf𝗼rd c𝗼mic that too𝗸 me a few days to make with my take on a human bill design.

𝗖ouple more sketches + f𝗹at/alt c𝗼lor𝘀 of pag𝗲 four.

[metsaahenki]

they both awkward

[deoboyznet]

heads up! check out dora's new fic! pls remember to reblog as always <3

oh darling, take my heart! ( heart attack ), k.sw & jc.b

inspired by loona ( chuu ), heart attack

“ 𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐝 “

‘ To save Sunwoo from his own self destruction by his undying love for Y/n as he admires her but cannot get her attention. His guardian angel comes to his side in human form to prevent the inevitable fall from Eden. Though the desperation for his preservation might just come from the egoistic wounds of his heart and the awareness of the ugliest fall of them all, it being his own. ’

PAIRING ⏵ kim sunwoo x fem!reader, guardian angel!jacob not a love triangle

GENRE ⏵ fluff, slight angst, one sided pining, unrequited love ( not all the way through ), comedy/ crack ( hopefully ), sunwoo is down so bad, and he’s stubborn as heck, not a love triangle, slight fantasy, jacob is stressed bc of sunwoo, sweetheart!Jacob, winter!au, college!au but they’re just in the library and walk between lectures and have own apartments lol( F EXAMS ), epic bromance, europe aesthetic ( this is a candlestick idk how widespread they are )

WARNINGS ⏵ y/n is just a little evil, loonaverse lore ( lol ), romanticised college!au bc I don’t want to write my reality 🫠, surface level world building ( don't ask me about the angel lore ), y/n & sw calls jacob angel & cupid either teasingly/mockingly/literally, y/n refers to sunwoo as loverboy once, sunwoo swears like three times, heart attack by chuu is very gay mine is not😭, proofread twice

WORD COUNT ⏵ 18.8 k ( I’m so sorry )

AUTHOR'S NOTE ⏵ new banner style!( so proud! ). for some reason I was hellbent on getting this out before christmas, but it’s really not that christmassy😭. the heart attack mv tells a story about chuu's undying love for yves. rest is only theories, but I see it as chuu unconsciously wanting to fall from eden and when she finally has let go of it, yves loves her ( good to know! ). please enjoy!

like and reblog are highly encouraged!

THIS WORLD HAS CHANGED ITS COLORS, DRIFTING FURTHER FROM THE SUN IN PRESENT SEASON.

As Eden has turned its axis away from the warmth, the trees stand with a single color. Instead of fruits in shine and leaves that paint the part in between world and heaven, its colors have, from the crowns, spread and blossomed over its people. The fabric of one's jacket and scarf decorates the boulevard down to the open square at the very center of the city.

Though, someone in cobalt blue seems to not follow the fast paced world around him. Jacob walks gently over the frozen mirror layered on top of the summer stone. His new body concealed in a jacket in that cobalt blue. To look out over the two streets and the cars driving in between, he observes how each silhouette before and behind him walks past him without a single glance or wrong step. Jacob looks down again, sees the reflection of daylight on the frost as his right foot takes another step forward. 

Last month, Jacob sat in his new bed, in his new room, in a new city. Picked apart the sharp lines on the telephone screen to figure out exactly the right passage to the blue dot. How time has moved forward without him, since he last stepped onto the fixed ground and stood before the mortals as a real figure. Jacob used to stand perfectly visible in a full crowd all the more frequently in the past. The little boy he guarded back then refused to learn how to stand up for two seconds before starting to run. At seven, during the midst of the summer season on an afternoon picnic, Sunwoo had managed to climb a tree he was incapable of coming down. Jacob, who had been observing him like a second baby sitter, granted Sunwoo luck that day and saved him before falling off the bended branch. 

Though, as he entered his teens, Jacob realized Sunwoo was rather a problem solver. So, as he watched from above, the secret pathways and hideouts, how he fired off a firework in the high school hallways and ran from the teacher, Jacob learned to not intervene. 

Jacob feels the cold water melt on his skin as morning snow starts falling. And between the white feathers falling from above, he sees the entré from where the fabrication spreads outwards to the exterior of his vision. The glass windows stand in height with the opening, making the trees in winter sleep all smaller. The glass doors and buildings in altering heights don't seem to intimidate him as much as last month. Therefore he lets the transparent frame to the other side, open up for him and the flakes on his hair start to melt. 

He vividly recalls summers from before as he walks down the corridors in pastel colors. How the daylight pierce through the ceiling height windows and spread itself over the cream walls like paint. As the memory recalls itself, all the way to the present, he finds himself before lecture hall A, a single turn before the library. The door stands open before him, from his spot on the stream line wood, he sees a row of students already inside. As he hears another pair of footsteps behind him, fused with muted conversations from the entrance, Jacob gathers the strap of his backpack and walks in.

In the lecture hall, the board stands to the left and before it spreads a massive sort of staircase to the highest windows. Though, as he has visited this place in what can only be described as dreams, this vision doesn’t seem to bother his conception. Instead, Jacob stands at the end, two meters away from where the first row starts. Faces that have passed him by in dreams and strangers he can’t recall are all scattered throughout the staircase. And as he eyes them down from the lowest point to the highest before the window, he can’t piece the face in his mind with anyone in the room. 

Jacob let his hand fall from the backpack strap and walk up the right side. Sunwoo has never been known for his punctual habits, neither in Jacob’s memory from his youth or the recent observation of him as a uni student. 

In the perfect middle of the seven rows, Jacob takes a seat close to the stairs down. He lets his backpack fall to the floor as he takes a seat. The silver computer reveals itself from the canvas material and he lays it gently on the surface before him. 

Conversations fill the lecture hall and he eyes the rows, down to the end floor. How two girls sit side by side, enthusiastically nodding when the other talks, or the lone boy furthest against the wall in the right corner. Though, the surroundings fall irrelevant as he anticipates each silhouette entering the door. Each person creates an even stronger blur of conversations and the colors and materials paint a motif before him. Each row and the surface before it becomes foiled with texture and at last, when the professor stands before the white board, none of the faces entering was him from his memories. 

The empty corridor walls, enchanted in pastel shades and wooden floor. Each step he takes spreads to the furthest corners of where two walls meet, before they resile back towards him. All that while he turns further from the past lecture hall. Instead of right, the direction towards the library, he let the patterns on the floor take him whatever they wanted. Hoping it would lead him to the purpose of his visit. And as he thinks about that, he looks up from the wild patterns. As he stands still in the middle of the corridor, he sees a single silhouette at the end. At the end frame where the opening reveals a horizontal corridor, stands a silhouette reminiscent of his youth. His distinctive features are turned the other way, and Jacob stands on his toes as if to reach them. 

With gentle steps, as if to not disturb the rare life, Jacob walks towards him. The wings under his blue blazer attempt to spread in anticipation, but he forces them down under the thick fabric. Has the past finally runned up to him as he has searched the campus for the past month? he wonders. 

“Are you Kim Sunwoo?” Jacob finally asks when they stand about a meter away from each other. The boy turned his figure towards him and his features in day highlights and winter shadows graze itself before him. His face, though more mature, shows traces of the ones from his memories. How the certain parts of his eyes and full lips seem to be unaffected by time. 

“What I-” He before him stops himself from speaking as a door from the other corridor opens. 

Jacob watches how his eyes instantly grow wider and he moves all closer to the extended frame of the pastel wall. To trace the line up to the door, Jacob observes closely how an ocean wave of students crash through the single opening. And as the wave falls and spreads out from all directions, and five people walking alone, unaffected by another, he hears how the boy before him exhales gently. 

By the five last people, two take a left turn, one has a book bag hanging off her shoulder and she carries a computer in her left arm. The sight is rather ordinary, maybe that the winter sunlight hits her a certain way as she passes them  by from afar. But as he turns to look at Sunwoo again, he leans his head against the open frame, hands around the edges. His quiet expression melts the winter frost over the windows and a single point in his eyes that are crystal clear. Jacob was uncertain when still observing him from above, but Sunwoo’s painful adoration for the woman walking before them paints messages on the wall with red paint. 

She is the one he needs to save him from. 

The light hits her in another angle, when she turns her head, Jacob takes his arms closer to his chest as Sunwoo forces himself up from the wall and takes his hand up to his hair. The black lock tangles itself between his fingers as he pushes them back and a pen from his front pocket falls to the floor when his other hand comes down to correct the shirt. 

Jacob, quite amused, looking at the scene before him, recognizes how despite the loud noise from the pen, she at the opposite side doesn’t confirm his presence. Sunwoo’s eyes, covered in yearning, follows her serene figure until it disappears from his sight. Exchanges of words from the student mass further to the right echoes throughout the walls. And Sunwoo breathes out again, though, this time it’s heavy and low, leaving his lips in ache before falling to the floor. 

Jacob stands unchanged as Sunwoo starts to adjust the band of his bag. Suddenly he has become invincible in the pastel hallway. As he thinks of it, Jacob awkwardly takes his own backpack strap and falls back and forth on his heels. 

Finally, he coughs. 

Sunwoo looks up from his book bag. His features dull, tired eyes and his lips barely open to answer him. A rather familiar picture of him as he thinks of the past month’s visions while at home, to place his face in between all the hallways.  

“Are you Kim Sunwoo?” Jacob asks again. 

“Yeah…” He eyes him suspiciously, “Am I supposed to know you or something?” 

“No.” Jacob smiles. 

It falls silent again. 

The plan from the past months runs Jacob’s mind and disappears from sight. So as he stands and watches the boy before him, he starts counting his fingers from below, as if that will help him. 

“Okay.” Sunwoo puts his hands in his pocket.

“Oh right!” Jacob finally says, “Sorry, it’s been some time. I…”

Sunwoo tilts his head. 

“No, I-forget that.” Jacob motions with his hand, “We’re in the same course, I’m a bit after, I would need some help for the assignment…” He motions even more, “someone said you’re good.” 

“Who’s someone?” He asks with slightly squinted eyes. 

Jacob smiles, “Eric, I was with him last month.” 

“You shouldn’t trust Eric.” Sunwoo shakes his head and Jacob furrows his eyebrows, “He nearly burned down the lab last year.” 

That, I missed, Jacob thinks as he pursues his lips in. But if the heart has stayed the same all these years, a constant absolute when everything passes, a simple sentence should secure him. 

“Then, are you saying you aren’t smart?” Jacob eyes him. 

Sunwoo straightens his posture, scoffs and smiles at him on the opposite side, “No, I’m so smart.” He boasts. 

“Okay, then are you helping me?” 

“I usually don’t give out charity, but sure,” Sunwoo nods and reaches out his hand. Jacob sees the distance close as he takes his own hand out and bridges them together. They shake it slightly. 

“Thanks then, Sunwoo!” Jacob puts his hands in his pockets too, “Do three today at the library work?” 

“Sure.” He nods.

How the days move fast, Jacob realizes as he stands by one of the five windows out to the white covered landscape. On one hand, the few daylight hours must change one's perspective on the passing time, but there is something very human, he has understood about the constant disapproval of how time moves in contrast to space. 

His legs and lower back rests against a heater with missing spots where white paint should be. The rough edges of its pattern delve a shallow cut at the right side of his spine. Though, the discomfort doesn’t force him to move, as the chilling hour in the lecture hall has frozen every part of his body. 

As Jacob stands there, melts the ice and watches how the snow falls towards Eden, he thinks about Sunwoo, again. It has been some time he feels, since the boy has been occupying his mind this frequently. Despite only meeting twice or so per day, he has started to ask Sunwoo if he needs rest or is tired. At those times, he rather looks confusingly at Jacob and answers sarcastically, “I’m always tired” or “Rest never works”. Somehow Jacob wants to tell him he should sleep since he’s been running all day, but he realizes on the way out of the entrance that it is only in his mind he has been running. It is something else outside their shared daily routine. 

On the other hand, the name of the girl from that day has been given. Y/n, a student Sunwoo has had classes with, works at a cafe in the mall. The cafe has changed names about four times. Scored lovely on exams the past year, but as if a wind came with a new heart, her eyes seem to, and quoting Sunwoo, “longing for somewhere else”.  A wanderer rather, he thinks, to be seen in spaces without clear intention without a single word said. The red veil connecting the two seems rather obscured at the moment. 

As he thinks about the mysterious girl, his other half and the mission, he sees people coming from the right. At the end of a group, standing Sunwoo, he waves to the three people beside him before walking forward, leaving them behind. The library stands right before Jacob, at the other side of the wall. And as he takes a single step away from the warmth of the electric heater to reach him, Sunwoo smiles. 

“Oh, hello, Jacob.” He continues to walk. Sunwoo’s figure passes him by while the Angel’s have a fixed position in the center of two lines. Jacob’s eyes follow his silhouette down the hall towards the frame. 

“Where are you going?” The textbooks nearly slips out of his arms as Jacob hurriedly shifts directions and accidentally stops two students on their way out. His other half doesn’t seem to catch him the first time as the double doors out to the snow covered scenery opens and barely closes before Jacob’s shoes make a pattern in it. 

“Where are you going?” He thinks it is probably the loudest he has ever talked and stresses each syllable. 

“The cafeteria” He says without any sort of worries. 

“But aren’t we supposed to study?” Jacob runs desperately after him. 

“We were?” The boy stops suddenly and Jacob flies head first against Sunwoo’s back head. The Angel caresses his forehead and Sunwoo turns around to watch him fully. The fact that he got a full skull into his own doesn’t seem to bother him as he quietly waits for the pain to ease off Jacob. 

“Yeah, I asked you yesterday and you said yes.” Jacob holds his cold palm against his forehead. Sunwoo’s eyes adverts from Jacob’s, up to the clear sky. It shines on his features brightly when he tilts his chin. 

“Can’t remember, either way I need to see Y/n.” 

The shoe patterns in the snow continue from where it ended. Jacob sighs as he pulls the backpack further up his shoulder, so that it brushes against his neck. As if half running to connect and grip onto Sunwoo’s college shirt, Jacob comes up to Sunwoo, steps become slower and falls into a sort of comfortable rhythm. The Angel looks down the stone pathway in clear ice, beside it molten snow. Their steps follow in rhythm. 

“Isn’t it very…” 

Sunwoo looks to his left, where Jacob follows his steps down the ice. Eyes set on the road before them and his posture starts to fall into a sort of shrimp-like fashion. The sentence in his mouth never finishes as Jacob starts to fall behind. 

“Very?” Sunwoo quotes and slows down just a little. 

“You know…” Jacob looks up again, sees his other half about a meter before him. Wide eyes and nods his head. The Angel starts shifting his hands around to express the thoughts running in his mind, but it doesn’t seem to do much for him, as Sunwoo tilts his head. The next step down the pathway, his sneaker loses grip on the ground and slides freely. Jacob lets out a surprised sound as fear paints his previously frustrated expression. Jacob grabs onto Sunwoo’s forearm, nearly forgets that his wings might have just ripped through the fabric layers. 

“Looking like Bambi.” Sunwoo says and takes Jacob’s upper arm. 

“What’s Bambi?” Jacob’s filters and deliberate calculations seem to have flown out the window the moment his face came close to the ground. When the very center of his vision finally leaves the ice covered path, he lifts his chin up to see Sunwoo eye him with a frown. 

“That little deer that can’t walk or something.” Sunwoo says. 

Jacob’s quiet for a moment. A bicycle comes beside them, catches their jackets in the artificial wind and takes Sunwoo’s fringe with it, leaving a part of his forehead for the world to see. 

“You say I’m a deer?” 

“I’m going to eat.” He deadpans and turns to face the street once again. 

“Wait!” 

-

The reflection in the glass door looks back at them. Disappears as Sunwoo pushes the door open to reveal the lines of tables. Jacob stands still for a single second, watches the overbearing ceiling weight down on the red tables and the floor shining from the lamps. To stand in the very line between outside and the room, he feels a wind pass by the chairs and he realizes it looks rather depressing. Though Sunwoo's footsteps continue through the tables, sneakers scrape against the odd floor which turns the older woman behind the glass to his place. 

Jacob himself takes uncertain steps around the cafeteria. Follow the odd patterns and watch each ugly lamp light up another red table. He lets his eyes follow the trails of seats further from the main windows and sees students scattered about two tables away from each other before the windows out to a snow covered grass field. 

At the center of one of the windows, just enough to the left that there are still about three places left to sit at the back, sits a girl. The light from outside filters through the window familiarly and hits her features in the exact manner as from before. Jacob thinks Y/n must have a favorite sort of place to sit. In the passing hours between lectures he sees her in the same lightning and in the same position each time. 

As he has wondered for another passage of around the clock. Jacob, unaware of the presence he has been having around him coming back. A light push on his shoulder, just above the wings takes Jacob back to the present. To cover the spot over the blazer where he just touched, Jacob, with wide eyes, watches Sunwoo with a single tray in his hand. The Angel stares at length even when Sunwoo walks two tables away and takes a seat. His shoulder brushes up against the counter, and his eyes immediately falter. Lies heavily on Y/n as Sunwoo’s arms support his chin. 

The tense posture and fixed position of Jacob’s hands loosens. Gently takes himself closer to the table and sits at the opposite side of Sunwoo. The chair is hard plastic, causing a slight discomfort in his skin, as so, Jacob doesn’t bring his back to the rest. 

“You want some?” 

The Angel looks up from his lap. Sunwoo holds out a plastic cup filled with chocolate filling. The inside has a sharp surface and a clean line between transparency and chocolate. A depressing pudding for the depressing interior. And apparently the expression on his face as he thought of it, didn’t pass by Sunwoo, 

“I’m broke". It’s the only thing in this place that doesn’t cost me four thousand and a kidney.” “Plus, it’s actually good.” Sunwoo opens his eyes wide at the last sentence, nods his head as if to make Jacob agree by mimicking. 

Jacob moves his head, “Thank you, but I don’t like chocolate.” 

Sunwoo drops his hand with the pudding to the table surface, “Liar, everyone likes chocolate.” 

The Angel shakes his head gently, “Not me.” 

The one facing the window sighs, forces his hand back to his side of the table and instead, takes up the other container on the tray, “You’re weird, here’s your vanilla.” Sunwoo pushes the plastic cup over the distance and it slows down perfectly in front of Jacob. He looks at the cream white color before him and then up at Sunwoo who has opened his pudding. 

“Did you not want it?” Jacob tilts his head. 

Sunwoo shakes his head with the plastic spoon in his mouth, “Chocolate’s better. I thought that was a pre chosen feature before birth.” He takes the spoon and picks up another bite, “But apparently not.” Sunwoo smiles. 

Even when the conversation finds its final period in the end of a last sentence, Jacob finds himself staring and holding the thin cup between his fingers. And sometimes, when he tears his eyes off the plastic to look at Sunwoo, he sees the one on the opposite side gaze in deep adoration onto a point he can’t see from this side. Though, between the limited hours they’ve spent during this time, he figures it is not much in this scene of life that has his eyes so enchanted. 

Finally Jacob takes off the lid and takes the thin white spoon off the tray to tear the perfect surface of the pudding. As he takes his first bite, he tastes the sweet flavor from the vanilla melt in his mouth. Jacob, on his limited days on land, has never built any deeper interest for pudding he acknowledges. But every time he looks towards Sunwoo who takes a bite off his chocolate one, he gets a sudden desire to eat pudding tomorrow too. A sort of feeling he can’t quite figure out where it comes from or places in his heart. 

Jacob fascinatingly observes how, for each round sound of the clock, Sunwoo falls deeper into his palm. As if spellbound by the person, he looks as if to be in complete dissociation from the real world. Jacob wonders what he sees before his eyes as he watches Y/n, feels in his heart and senses between his veins. 

“Sunwoo?” Jacob says suddenly. It breaks the silence between them and the cafeteria for that part too. The one in deep infatuation looks away for a single second, though, still chin in palm, a position ready to turn back to at any time. 

“Why do you like Y/n?” Jacob tilts his head. 

Sunwoo frowns for a moment and then lifts his shoulder, “I don’t know, why wouldn’t I?” 

“You tell me.” Jacob leans in closer. 

Sunwoo scoffs, “She’s pretty. She’s smart, I don’t know…” His eyes shimmer from the daytime and his other hand comes up to his face. The end sleeves of his hoodie folds from the position and it covers some of his features. The words from his lips become muted in between all the fabric, “...She’s like from another world.” He sighs, “She’s beautiful like a dream and intriguing.” 

“Intriguing?” Jacob tilts his head again. 

“She talks really fast with a really flat tone. Then her body language, it’s as if she has none. That’s her body language.” 

Jacob nods. 

“Why do you wonder?” Sunwoo asks suddenly. 

Jacob’s quiet for a second, looks behind his shoulder towards Y/n before turning back to the table, “I don’t know, she seems a bit disinterested just.” He speaks gently. 

Sunwoo nods his head without making eye contact. 

“I think many would have gone for someone else.” He speaks slower than in previous conversations. Watch each motion of Sunwoo’s fingers and where his pupils are directed. Touch the surface just slightly and see how the waves starts to form. 

“I guess.” Sunwoo scratches his nails and looks towards the ceiling. 

“I-” 

“I have to meet up at five.” Sunwoo sits up, smiles with pressed lips towards Jacob and nods his head once again, “See you tomorrow, I guess.” He pushes his chair under the table and takes a first step out the odd patterned floor. 

“Wait, I should pay you back for the food.” Jacob stresses and starts searching in between his pockets. But the Angel stops once Sunwoo laughs just lightly and puts his hands in his pockets. 

“Don’t worry about it, it was like three thousand.” He turns his head fully and Jacob is left seeing his silhouette become all smaller and disappear out the glass door. 

Despite the definite numbers of daylight there is in a December afternoon, Jacob finds himself at the avenue down the meters between university and his home. The lights hang above his head in lines until the very end of the buildings. And as Jacob lifts his chin even further up, his nose touches the cold air and in every window shines a candlestick. The thousands of lights enchanting the avenue shines in golden yellow. A warm vision as Jacob pulls the scarf a bit tighter around his neck. 

As he watches a couple come out of the glass door before the mall, Jacob thinks back on his conversation with Sunwoo. The Angel turns on every angle possible of the words he spoke to him. To imagine the different dimensions where the timidly spoken sentence could have affected him. Sunwoo was very quick that time, to stand up and leave the conversation. Jacob gets a discomfort in his spine as the scene plays over, but then it continues playing, showing the open motions and tone before he turns. Jacob shakes his head again, to make the screen fade from his mind and look at the white floor. 

It’s confusing, he thinks. Humans are confusing. 

“Hello.” 

Jacob takes the wrong step with his right feet. Shoe, trapped under an elevated part of the pathway and his hands comes out of his pockets as his weight leans forward. Before Jacob’s face comes even closer to the ground, his other leg lands to support the parts of his body that come to lean over. With a few foolish motions as to regain his balance and another second to get his posture upright instead of horizontal, Jacob looks behind him to see the voice that continues to linger in his ears. 

How the Angel’s wings tenses underneath all the fabrics and the features on his face become rigid and pale. The substantial shift in his current state, from outside it may look like a sudden winter storm passed him by. To steal every little warmth left between the layers. But truly, there is only one reason. As Y/n stands before him, a certain distance but in eye contact for the first time. 

“What’s your name?” She abruptly asks when he has stared for too long. 

Jacob grabs his backpack, “What-Why?” 

“I’ve seen you a lot lately.” She’s quick. 

“I’ve seen you a lot too.” Jacob starts to take steps away from her, but as he turns back, her silhouette follows him. 

Shoes in deep snow during winter evenings come from behind and wrap around his ears. 90s Chirstams melodies play weakly from the stores and he finally breaks silence, “Do you need help or something?” 

“I do.” 

“Okay, but I’m not good at math, just so you know.” 

“Don’t worry, it’s not math.” Y/n smiles lightly, though it sends shivers much deeper than any weather has ever done. Jacob swallows and looks before him. The avenue splits into two and he sets his eyes on the pathway into the badly lit park. 

“I’m Y/n.” She stops walking suddenly but continues to look at him, “Will you help me if I ask you?” 

“Jacob.” He answers weakly and shifts his sight between two opposite points. Y/n opens her mouth to speak, but Jacob rushes, making no space for more than one sentence. 

“I’m late for the bus.” And crosses the red light as another car passes. Head to look in the two different directions and the blinding lights coming all closer. Though, he does make it to the other side. Where lamps stand in row between the tall trees and the Christmas lights from the avenue can’t reach. Jacob looks behind him for a last time, to see a painted figure against the avenue, but at the entrance of the park, there is no one. As so, the wings on his back falls to his skin once again. 

How the evening from before haunts him as he passes each corner and wall. There seems to be no logical reasoning, he thinks, as to why a girl he has never met or established any similarities to in the real world, to seek his company. Jacob stands, once again before the library in endless waiting for Sunwoo, but as all other days, he is nowhere to be seen. The Angel sighs, looks to the window and uncomfortably shifts his back. There has been a sort of constant ruler watching his every move, the one hidden among humans thinks. 

“Hello.” 

Jacob moves one step further down the pastel wall as another presence stands beside him. With his hands close to his chest, Jacob looks to see the person before him. With wide eyes and feet tightly set against each other, he forces himself to become smaller when she who he has wandered over stands in complete view. Her face is familiar by now, but the incredibly monotone voice that echoes throughout the halls felt as if picking on the past memories of her. 

“Hello?” Jacob stutters as silence passes them by. Her eyes, like the echo of her first words, lingers like the snow outside and with difficulty, won’t go away.  The blazer around his upper body sits as it always does, but somehow he feels like it has torn by its sides and reveals  his secret fully before her. As her eyes follow his silhouette, his hands cramp together even tighter. 

“Has someone ever told you you sound like an angel, Jacob?” Her voice, not as severe as before, reaches him through the awkward distance. The expression on her face is rather vague, not so drastic lines of emotions, instead nearly detached from the scene they find themselves in. Aside from her faintly north crescent lips and her eyes with the finest of pearl at the pupil. Sharp crystals like the ice hanging from outside the building. 

“No-Why?” Jacob coughs slightly and throws back the question. 

She changes the weight on her legs, “I don’t know, isn’t there a rumor that there’s angels walking among us.” 

“Well,” he takes the collar of his blazer and adjusts it, “It’s just a saying .”  

“You think so?” 

It becomes quiet once again, aside from the friend group that cross the wooden floor and follow the lines down the second corridor. As their conversation fades from these walls and lives on their own, Y/n takes a step closer towards him. In the everlasting coldness enchanting all corners of the building, he suddenly feels her warm shoulder closing in against his own. 

“You don’t believe in angels?” 

“No.” He answers hesitantly, only letting his eyes wander to the left for a single second before moving back to the window on the other side. He sees the eyes of students observing them as they stand in the center of two ways. 

“Just fate.” He pats his blazer again. Y/n eyes him in  silence to observe the invincible dust layered over the fabric, his hands brush it off. Falls down from the fabric to the hem line and adjusts it, despite no failed folds. 

“Nice blazer by the way.” She abruptly stops him. 

He looks at her without words. Now she’s leaning on the wall with crossed arms, eyes aimed at the two people who briefly cover sunlight on the pastel wall before passing it by. This time the two lock eyes completely, a shiver runs through his body as she observes him with an intensive sort of coat over the lobe. To pass through the very fiber that makes them two similar, she sees his soul wrapped in plastic. Burn it with her eyes until it starts to smoke. 

“You’re indiscreet Jacob, I know you’re not from here.” 

A single sentence seems to set off the second visor on the analog clock. Jacob breathes heavily and turns his head away from her. The reaction burns a part of her consciousness and the blood between her vessels moves all quicker as she opens her lips again. Another person passes them by precisely, and Jacob takes her wrist as the very opening of her sentence echo through the pastel passage. 

“Be quiet, please.” He whispers. Y/n is forced up against him, his eyes shining of heaven as he looks down at her. 

“Never.” The shift in dynamic doesn't seem to face her, he thinks. 

Jacob sighs loudly and lets go of her wrists. He throws it against her thigh before turning the other direction, each step, a dimension away from Y/n. But as he comes further down the corridor, where the pastel starts to become sun faded and spots of paint have withered away, a constant sound of steps in a rhythm just like his own. Jacob’s eyes follow the lines between the floors. Force each sound of his shoes against it to become all louder as they come to the very end of the corridor, where it splits in half. 

Her fingers grip onto the back collar, where the fabric folds into two. She forces it closer towards herself and Jacob feels the neckline move further up his skin and strangle the end of his throat. All at once, she pushes him to the right. Jacob lands with his back against the wall, the very fragment of the thin material seems to shrivel at this motion, and the wall, as it’s completely hollow, echoes throughout the empty hallway. 

Jacob lets out a cry as the fabrication and his own body press the wings under the blazer. Y/n comes up closer, with a distance enough for herself, but has her arms up against his head to constrain him to the small square beneath him. 

“Hurt your wings, Angel?” She tilts her head. 

Jacob’s right arm is wrapped around his upper body, to caress the aching spot on his back. The loose strands of his fringe have fallen before his eyes and the collar of his blazer is unfolded. He feels the dry bits of paint on the wall against his head as he leans away from her complexion, as much as this dimension allows him to. 

“You look like a mess.” Y/n tilts her head, “Like a sin.” 

“What do you want anyway?” Jacob says frustrated. 

“You’re not fallen, Angel. Tell me how to do it.” 

“Do what?” 

“Fall from this place.” She rolls her eyes, “Leave.” 

“You’re insane.” He takes a step to the left, but Y/n mirror it perfectly. So, her hands are beside him from both directions, still, to cage him in. 

“Why are you even here? With Sunwoo? Loverboy can’t do uni on his own?” 

For the first time, the features on her face shifts. From being forever still without any sort of indication of time or emotion, her eyes are coated with a thin layer of light, lucent from the moon and the corner of her lip twitches between the sentences. The fine pupil of her eye shifts focus on the different shadows of his face, when neither of them gives her any answers, she desperately starts asking him again. 

Jacob feels the human heart in his chest hurt severely. It pushes against his skin and the organs right besides it. Between each breath, the words lie on his tongue daring to be heard, but as she stares at him, just a little bit more frenetic than before, they fall back in his throat, tangle in each other and strangle him. The eyes sharp and vivid like yesterday’s nightmare, he closes his eyes and wishes for the sun to rise up. And at the exact moment, the two of them hear footsteps coming all closer to their spot behind the wall. 

As suddenly as Y/n appeared beside him before the library, she is now gone, with just a few steps and a temporary current from her disappearing arms. Jacob dares to open his eyes and see nothing but the yellow pale wall. To look behind the paper divider, he sees Y/n’s silhouette become all the smaller as the hallway continues forward and a student, much older, opens the door to the left. 

Once again, he falls against the dried off paint. But this time let his arms hang loosely by his sides, lend his head as far up as it goes, to stare at the high ceiling and breathe out loudly. 

The days seem to obscure each other. How the distinctive line between day & night blemishes at its edges, and creates a wavering pattern of his life. Jacob sits in the library. Though, this time, he looks out over the high shelves and people’s heads from the second floor. To follow the figures from above as they navigate the shelves of titles and to look out the top part of the windows to see the snow covered cityscape. How this place seems unaffected by time, he thinks as his chin lies in his palm. 

The door from below opens again, and his eyes diverge quickly from the window down to the first floor. He sees the hair color at the top of the stranger’s head, it shines in a different shade than the one he seeks for. Therefore, Jacob feels his shoulder fall into a comfortable position once again and his eyes aspire for the white landscape through transparent shine. 

After another passing of the clock, a sensation, in heavier violence than the night weather, has taken a place on both of his shoulders. It weighs heavy over his chest, for a single second he forgets how to breathe. Without any intentions, his hands grab the textbook at the center of the table. Slowly, in contrast to the thoughts racing through his head, Jacob takes just a momentarily stop to them, as to figure out what to say. Though, words never come out when the eyes behind him meet his own. Instead, a laugh chimes throughout their part of the library. Sweet and bright, boyish as from a memory from a past life. 

Sunwoo stands behind him, letting his hand hit Jacob’s back gently as the ends of his eyes curl to a crescent. 

“Is the devil behind me or something?” He continues to laugh before walking to the opposite side of the table. Jacob still won’t answer, his eyes instead follows Sunwoo’s silhouette around the edge of the wood. As he stands up, he suddenly covers the massive window, but the sunlight shines back on him when Sunwoo sits down before him. 

“I have something.” The one on the opposite side is quieter than before. Jacob curiously tilts his head as Sunwoo reaches down to the floor. His backpack lies beside the chair, and as his shoulders disappear behind the table, Jacob hears slight sounds of paper scratching against each other. 

“Are you eating again?” Jacob asks bewildered. 

Sunwoo takes his finger up and pushes it before his lips, “Do you want some or not?” 

Jacob’s face falls flat once again. Eyes on Sunwoo’s as his own expression lights up all of a sudden. 

“Exactly.” He whispers. 

The paper folds a few more times and Jacob looks behind him to see if anyone else sees them. Sunwoo’s hand comes up from the white paper bag, in his palm, gently cupped lies a golden brown pastry, the layers flakey and falls off in his hand. Jacob turns back towards Sunwoo and reaches his hands out for the layered pastry. He brings it up to his face, beneath his nose as to smell it. Sunwoo reaches down again and smiles when Jacob’s eyes are wide and searches for the specific flavor wrapped in golden dough. 

“It’s vanilla.” He whispers and Jacob looks at him, “I’ll take the chocolate one.” 

His words gently wrap around his heart and sets off a sensation he has never experienced before. It’s warm like the memory of coming inside and closing the door after being outside. And when he looks at Sunwoo who takes an outlandish bite of his own pastry, Jacob feels the urge to take out his wings and gently cover the kid’s shoulder like it's a blanket. To fend off the nightmares of the world, events that make one soul a bit smaller, all of it would not come to him if Jacob stood like in imagination, protecting him fully. 

They sit in silence for some time. Let each book page that lifts from one side to the other blow around their ears. Jacob savors the last bit of his pastry and looks out the window again. Snow falls outside and lies like a grainy filter over the city horizon. As he falls deeper in trance of the portal to the outside, and counts each flake falling from above, Sunwoo suddenly taps his finger on the side of the computer. 

Jacob looks at the kid with wide eyes. His head slightly forward and posture completely still, as  if he does stand outside in the pouring snow. 

“Our holidays are soon.” Sunwoo too leans forward, “Eric-” 

He points at Jacob, “You know Eric?” 

The other one nods attentively. 

“Okay, good." “He’s holding a party this weekend, let’s go.”

Jacob leans back again, letting his back fall to the rest of the chair and he looks at Sunwoo with a rather uncertain expression.  

“I don’t know.” 

“Why?” He sees Sunwoo’s eyes squint with a momentary head tilt. 

“I’m not good at parties.” His shoulders are stiff and features rigid and square. 

Sunwoo too falls back in his chair, to mimic Jacob’s expression before smiling again “Saying it like it’s hockey or something, you just have to be there.”

Jacob’s still looking at him without words or smiling. 

“Either way, Party Pooper, I’m going to get Y/n to the party.” He suddenly grabs the black ink pen from the right side of the desk. Brings it close to the Angel’s face and motions it in the same pause between his words. 

The silly little witch movements makes Jacob quite amused, but nonetheless, the words leaving his mouth and the determination behind his eyes. It all shines like the metal frame, outlining each square of the high ceiling window. 

The Angel lifts himself off the back rest once again, reaches his hand up to the metal tip at the end of the plastic pen. As so, he forces it down to the wooden surface and Sunwoo still looks at him. 

“What if she doesn’t want to go?” 

“I’ll have to deal with that later.” He lifts his shoulders. 

“But isn’t that a waste of time?” Jacob continues. 

“Not in my opinion.” 

“But what if-” 

“Do you have something against her or what?” Sunwoo cuts him off abruptly. The one from the opposite side notices how his eyes diverge from his own and flees everytime Jacob chases after them. Sunwoo’s own question is rather loud when he crosses his arms and eyes sharp directed towards the Angel. Jacob feels his own hands grasp each other in his lap and his eyes awkwardly look down the first floor as to see if anyone heard. 

“Not against her so.” Jacob shifts his arms around before his chest. 

“I just don’t think…” He struggles as their eyes lock once more and in the furthest corner of his vision, he sees Sunwoo’s fingers impatiently bend the plastic of the ink pen. 

“...That she’s good for you.” 

Sunwoo furrows his eyebrows, "Why?" Like you know her? She doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“I do know.” He looks at the other one sternly, “I do know, Sunwoo.” 

He rolls his eyes, “Who have you talked to? Danny from architecture that has seen her once like everyone else? Stop falling for peer pressure, Jacob.” 

“No.”  Jacob buries his face in his hands. The sigh echoes throughout the square area they are in. He stands up. The chair grinds against the wooden floor and spreads from their table. Students from the same floor behind the bookshelves eye the two. 

“Chill, dude.” Sunwoo puts his hands up. 

“No.” Jacob grabs Sunwoo’s right wrist and forces him up, his chair too leaves a mark on the parquet. 

Sunwoo sees the eyes of their peers as each step Jacob takes echoes throughout the shelves and climbs up to the floor ceiling. The right side of the double door flies open as they walk out. At the center of the horizontal hall, the one in disguise looks left and right as the one connected by the wrist stares at the other in bewilderment. At last, at the end of the hallway on its left plane, sits a door in the same color as the wall. A rather beaten up one with a slim frame and no rectangular plate to inform its name. 

Before Sunwoo realizes what he’s staring at, Jacob forces his hand closer to him and starts walking towards the door. And at just one meter away from it, as Jacob reaches out to the door handle. 

“You’re gonna take me hostage now or what?” Sunwoo asks. 

Jacob doesn’t answer, instead, the door behind the two of them shuts close. The corridor they stand in falls silent once again and neither of them can make out the lines of silhouettes or practical equipment in the still darkness. 

“This is a secret.” Jacob speaks to him as his eyes have started to adjust, “I’m here to protect you, Sunwoo.” He says clearly. 

“Okay?” Sunwoo says skeptically. 

Jacob sighs deeply before he angles his arms to get the blue fabric off his back. Now, Sunwoo’s eyes have also started to become familiar with the shadows. And before him, near the corner of the room where the shelves are, he sees Jacob struggling to get the blazer off and his arm meet the one shelf, creating a contained sound in the room. 

“Don’t take off your clothes, dude.” Sunwoo eyes him in disgust. 

“I’m not getting naked.” Jacob answers frustrated. He refuses to argue further with the one crammed into the far corner. Sunwoo stands beside a rigid old broom, his eyes following its silhouette down to the floor and takes it in his hands. 

As he looks at the one opposite towards him, his figure outlined by the faint light seeping through the cracks in the door. Jacob finally gets that piece of fabric off his arm and the blazer falls to the left off his leg. Suddenly, the light between the door and its frame fades out of view. The liminal space in the midst of the corridor becomes even darker and cramped as a white clean complexion rises above their heads. 

Sunwoo squints as he lets go of the broom. The wooden material hits the wall loudly before it plummets to the floor. 

“Take the wings off man, that’s embarrassing.” 

Jacob feels Sunwoo's shoulder brush against his own, and without hesitation, Jacob turns around before the other reaches the door handle. The fabric of his shirt tangled between Jacob’s own fingers as he drags the boy closer, away from the door. 

“It’s real! I’m your guardian angel!” He whispers-shouts and points at the feathers behind him, “Touch!” 

“No!” Sunwoo holds the same tone. 

“Why are you so stubborn!?” 

“Why do you have wings on!?”

“Because I’m your guardian angel!”

Jacob continues to whisper back at him, Sunwoo stops answering, instead silently stares at him in the dark. The Angel lets out a frustrated sigh and as he does, the wings behind him twitches slightly, opens and closes as much as they can in the liminal space. Sunwoo tilts his head, through with furrowed eyebrows and back against the door. He still bends his knees slightly to see the end feathers of his wings. 

“Here.” Jacob has stopped whispering, his voice, gentle and silken like the first time they met. He turns around, with his back towards Sunwoo, to let him see the practical details, he spreads them slightly. 

“They look pretty good. Where did you buy them?” Sunwoo asks with crossed arms. 

“You can’t buy them, I’m born with them.” 

There’s two holes in the back of his white shirt. Slit vertically down, and the right goes just a bit further down the left. And truly, as Sunwoo leans forward, he tells his eyes not to deceive him when the skin underneath the layers of white feathers connects seamlessly to the back. 

“You truly are a weirdo.” His posture falls straight again, back against the door surface. 

“What does your wings even have to do with Y/n?” 

Jacob reflects the change in the way Sunwoo holds his body, as he lifts his head up to face him. The Angel rolls his eyes, letting the distance between his lips grow wider as to whisper debate part two. But as his vision, faded in shadows from all sides,  comes up to the same level as Sunwoo’s, the eyes of his human, spellbound by genuine intrigue. Sunwoo’s head is tilted just slightly upwards, to watch his features in an angle never discovered before. Turn the motif he has built up of the man before him the past week. 

“Not my wings.” ”But that I'm your angel.” Jacob corrects him. Without any motions, instead let his arms fall vertically down its sides, like before they stepped into the room without brilliance. 

“Sorry, I don’t get it, dude.” He put his hands up again, “You don’t think it’s a good idea to shoot the arrow or are angels psychic all of a sudden?” 

His wings flutter just slightly as Jacob breathes in, “First off, I’m not Cupid. Second, I’m not psychic.” He breathes out, “My mission is to protect you, we’re-you’re in danger, she’s betraying this place, using others for her own need.” The Angel points with his finger towards Sunwoo’s face. Follow the breaths as he speaks. 

Jacob comes closer, laying his right arm over Sunwoo’s shoulder. The soft material of his sweater and the slight warmth that filter through the minimal knits. The Angel’s hand gently on his consciousness, Sunwoo abruptly becomes aware of the four walls, a border tight against them, cold because of lack of either sunlight or electric heat. A part of Jacob becomes rather confused as the one he protects, stubborn and appalled by inferiority, doesn’t move his hand away. Instead let it share its warmth. 

Jacob bites his lip, nearly letting his fingers push against the fabric on his shoulder a bit harder. Something at an unknown place in his mind, draws a deep line within that place. Impending on the new wound, a part of him wonders if the words on the tip of his tongue are worth saying. That he’s slowly, but firmly pulling a part of the fabrication of the very machine he rules and protects. Nonetheless, he looks up again and speaks;

“I need to protect myself too, Sunwoo.” He whispers, “I’m not here on my own will, I need you to know that.” 

How the world has refused to move even one step since they tread into the room. When they come back to the open floor and watch the identical students from before sit in the same position and flip through pages, the two of them wonder if it is the same pages they look at as before. Though, as the chairs from their table stand turned and diagonal, next to the vertical lines of the floor. Jacob watches how Sunwoo takes himself closer to the decorated edge. Like an image from a painting, the Angel sees his back clearly in view, follows each step and takes the place right beside Sunwoo as he leans on the wooden railing. Both of their shoulders fall in place without agitation as they look at the slow motions of the life before them. Sunwoo who fills his lungs fully with air, his body shifts like the transition of winter to spring as he breathes out. In another perspective, Sunwoo himself watches the white landscape grow all whiter as the snow continues to fall. Build on its height and dream of reaching back home. 

“I guess that makes sense.” Sunwoo’s voice is rather low when his chin is cupped between the skin of his palm. 

Jacob tilts his head and looks down at him, “What makes sense?” His voice is gentle. Pure like the true white color of snow. Sunwoo smiles slightly, which only makes the right tilt of Jacob’s head force the end strands to reach his shoulder. 

“That.” Sunwoo looks up at Jacob. To use his shoulders in effortless motions, let the sharpest part guide the Angel’s eyes to an abstract point behind his back. Jacob eyes him without words and takes his hand behind his back, opens it fully and stretches his fingers around the center of the two wings. 

Sunwoo laughs, “That explains why you’re so weird.” 

“Good or bad?” Jacob asks worriedly. 

“Good.” Sunwoo answers without hesitation and Jacob once again is left in a lone corner over the hidden paragraph between a single word. 

“I like weird people.”

The one clothing reveal didn’t become as scrutinizing as he once thought. He watches the top of people’s heads navigate through the thin lines and how their steps cut right through the sun reflection on the parquet flooring. Though, despite the positive outcome of the break of rules, there must be an underlying reason, in his unconsciousness as to why he refuses to look up from the stained floor. 

“Are you immortal or something?” Sunwoo asks abruptly. His voice, low and muted to the outside world, but the clearest thing in a single room as he speaks to him while conscious of the sentient world. His head finally gets to move with the minutes left of daytime. 

“No, I’m not.” He furrow his eyebrows. 

“How old are you then?” He looks back at Jacob. 

The Angel’s quiet for a second, “As old as you? Or what do you mean?” 

“So twenty three?” 

“Probably not twenty three in human twenty three ways, but close enough.” Jacob motions with his hands. 

“In dog years?” 

“No-” Jacob stops himself to look up at the chandelier in a high ceiling, leans closer to Sunwoo and tilts his head, “Dog years, isn’t that the concept of a dog's maturity in human scale?” 

“Yup.” Sunwoo answers in gray, dull tone. 

“Okay, then kind of.” 

“Do you have any memories then?” Sunwoo is now fully leaned on his arm with his entire body shifted towards Jacob’s own essence. 

“I do.” Jacob smiles. 

“What do you remember?” 

“You.” 

“Nothing else?” Sunwoo asks. Jacob looks away from him, the lids stay open as they refuse to close as he looks at the wall of spines. To run through all the pictures captured in time, see the grainy filter over his past and not a single one has without his face. He’s always there, either in perfect font or dream. 

“No.” Jacob shakes his head. 

“Really?” Sunwoo says skeptically, “You didn’t accidentally drop your ice cream before God or something?” 

Jacob shakes his head, “I remember you dropping your ice cream at four, you started crying but your mom and dad were somewhere else, so I just stared at you. That was awkward.”

Sunwoo smiles at how Jacob’s eyes are focused towards a distant point as he describes parts of the life sequence. There is something amidst them, that distance between their two shoulders that have seemed to become shorter for every day, that has started to grow. A single sprout that gently planted itself at the center without either knowledge, and now starts to spread its petals. Time has seemed to strengthen the fabrication of each leaf. 

It is rather funny, Sunwoo thinks, how the flower has bloomed between the frozen cracks of a winter. But only a sprout that has been through wither would be able to force itself up, between those layers. Therefore, Sunwoo finds himself quietly giving into the fabrication between the two of them. When looking at Jacob, he realizes he’s staring at his youth.

“I’ve been here as long as you” Jacob says suddenly, “, and stay here til you do.” 

Sunwoo doesn’t say anything. 

“All you do affects me too.” 

Sunwoo nods his head silently and leans on his palm, “So if I jump out the window you’ll die too?” It was rather satirical, a hypothetical scenario wrapped in unseriousness from Sunwoo’s side, but the human has come to realize angel’s don't always take sarcasm.  

“Yes.” Jacob says with a stern face. Sunwoo laughs silently and Jacob eyes him. Observing his serene motions and dares to walk closer. 

“So don’t do anything bad.” 

“Nice home.” Sunwoo looks around the room before he drops his bag onto a right angled carpet that hides whatever’s before the door. 

“Mine looks like shit.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Jacob nods his head and walks over to his bed. 

“You do?” Sunwoo stands before the closed door and looks at Jacob who lies between sheets and pillows of low saturation in peach shade essence.

“Not seen it now, but when you were little.” He looks at the ceiling, “I just guess you haven’t changed.” 

Sunwoo’s shoes stand in different directions of the black carpet beside Jacob’s that pointed towards the wall. He walks over to the one laying down, inspecting him silently before taking the pillow closest to the edge. 

“You’re dissing me or what?” 

“No-” Jacob doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Sunwoo throws the pillow down the calm state of the Angel’s face. 

“Yeah, Cupid.” 

“I’m not, Cupid.” Jacob sits up and takes the pillow from under his head and aims right at the center between Sunwoo’s eyes. 

And so it continues until the one with a full human heart lies on the floor. His locks scattered over Jacob’s peach muted carpet. He looks a little pathetic from above, Jacob thinks and smiles. As the reflection of the angel above him clears, the outlines become perfect, he sees how Jacob reaches his hand out towards him. 

“You’re so weird, why are you hitting your guardian angel?” Jacob forces him up and they stand in the center of the small square. 

The brief daylight hours has passed this age by too and now, it’s the warm light from Jacob’s ceiling that pierce through the window and spread out over the nearby snow. The room has warmed up from the center where they sit and spread slowly to the outer corners. Jacob sits on the bed, his back against the window frame. In contrast, Sunwoo sits at the very bottom, on the peach colored carpet, but both with posture bend forward over the textbooks and computers like grass over the windy field. 

Sunwoo has fallen in and out of the blank page before him about three times. To look at the window behind Jacob where, it every time, disappoints him, because there is nothing to look at in winter evening. Or go to the toilet.

At some point, when Jacob’s cursor hits the end of the A4 page, he stretches his back and yawns. Sunwoo looks over the horizontal line where the bedsheet gathers in folds, and sees how Jacob’s arms struggle in the blue fabric. The sounds of keys on the computer are now lost from this space and only the light noise of the ventilator lingers between the four walls. As Jacob stops stretching his arms, he takes off his blazer and lets it fall behind him on his orange sheets. The white wings stretch to the two opposite sides of his bed before they fall. 

Sunwoo looks at him while leaning his hands on the carpet behind him, “How do you shower?” 

Jacob answers hesitantly, “Like you normally shower?” 

“Do you wash them with shampoo or something?” 

“No..” 

“Gross.” Sunwoo makes a face. 

“Why? "Should I?” His eyes widen as he caresses the feathers of his left wing. 

“I don’t know.” He suddenly falls down onto the floor, smiles as he closes his eyes, “I’m no angel.” 

“Pretty obvious.” Jacob hums quietly and walks up. 

At some the curve of his posture had fallen so deep that Jacob swore he could hear cracks of bones. And instead to pull strings above his back, Jacob fell backwards on the pillows. The computer on the lower end of his stomach and his chin in an unflattering position to see the lit up screen. Though, he let the words between four frames judge his current state and the sounds of keys filled the four walls. After another passage of time, Jacob’s stomach growls and he registers the lack of sound as he himself stops writing.

“Are you hungry, Sunwoo?” Silence.

As no answers come from the one below him, Jacob reaches himself over the edge. Spread across his carpet lies Sunwoo with his arms tangled and body in a rather complex position. His eyes, closed off from this plane of existence as his mind reaches another. For just a moment, Jacob watches him quietly from the bed above. There is something nostalgic that evokes from this scene. 

Though, he does eventually stand up and take the pillow from the inner corner. It’s just a little cold as it was compressed between himself and the wall, isolating their frame from the winter lined streets. Jacob sits down beside Sunwoo’s chest, he gently lifts the boy’s head, without much sound lets the soft fabric catch his locks and the rest of his head. They sit for a second, completely unchanged, but Jacob sees the skin on Sunwoo’s upper arms create patterns of small dots. That he knows, his human form does that too when the cold itches to take the degrees from him. So, Jacob reaches over to his bed again, takes the blanket at the very end. He stretches it before it falls to the floor and replicates the silhouette of Sunwoo’s body. 

As time passes and the visor on the clock up on the high wall runs in bold progress, Jacob sits in a silence, one he only can experience in this form. Despite the constant noise of the clock, the undying reminder that he does exist, the world somehow moves slower. 

Jacob looks at Sunwoo’s face. Complexions without stress, in dreams he must be somewhere else, where life doesn’t tweak his eyebrows and strangle his skin. As they sit like this, Jacob wonders about his mission. The purpose of his arrival and existence. If he gets to reveal his thoughts, be true to the feelings inside his chest, Jacob can’t see a possible outcome where he forces Sunwoo’s heart in another direction. Despite their agreement, nothing but Y/n seem to cast over him as if  in dreams. 

Jacob reaches out his right hand over Sunwoo’s hair, gently feeling the strands brush past his skin. His mission to protect seems to have widened its edges and to save the boy before him has become more than to prevent blood scattered wounds. But to see him in delight knowing his fortune. As Jacob comforts his other half in the night, he thinks of young love and to, at least, not let the another presence color Sunwoo’s heart. 

Ever since that day, when Jacob, just another student in his class, revealed his life secret and told him there’s someone actively protecting him. He hasn’t been able to describe it perfectly, to set his finger on the singular mark and feel confident in the linear placing. Rather, he lets the skin of his point finger brush past the reflective paper, stop at a spot underneath a highlighted world, until he reverts back to the opposite side of the paper. 

As he walks away from campus, out on the broad streets, two lined at the edges and a center path where all the snow has collected towards the sides, painted brown from cars. Sunwoo feels a strange sort of responsibility for the new perspective of the world. Despite the enlightenment being a revelation  of a ruler watching him silently, he feels an even stronger obligation to become an active part of the otherworldly dynamic. 

A father with his child walks past him, and Sunwoo pushes his hands even deeper into his pockets. His breath paints a vague white cloud in the shade of the snow beneath him. And when a car drives past him, in the back of his mind, he considers walking closer towards the decorated glasses. 

As he looks at the same scenery, but in different seasons, he stops as he comes outside the mall. At the center, beneath the fabrication folding out over the street, he looks at the sign that will soon turn on, and then, the glass doors on row. How people push and pull the doors without a consistent pattern. Each window shop is scattered with snowflake stickers, red ornaments, green bushes and golden lightning. Sunwoo adjusts his hands in his pockets once again as he longingly watches into the world he knows too well. 

To stand there, he realizes how much of his time depends on a single ritual, a single person. What is he supposed to do if not going in, he thinks. Jacob was busy, apparently. Been running around all month trying to convince him to not reach out his hands towards Y/n, seems like life finally catches up to him. Sunwoo smiles as he thinks about Jacob ignoring papers, deadlines and assignments and how his wings twitch in anxiety as he runs to the shelf in the library. . 

“Hi.” 

Sunwoo jumps from one concrete square to the other. By reflexes alone, his hands tangle themselves out of the pockets, and he holds them before his face directed right towards the voice who called him. Though, the frown on his face fades from view as he sees the features between his fingers. On the opposite side of the concrete square, drowned in melted snow, stands the girl he watches everyday from this place, though, instead she stands beside him. 

She looks at him, doesn’t break eye contact for even a second when his hands fall down to its sides. As they stare through the looking glass to the heart of the other, Sunwoo wonders if Y/n has ever looked at him for this long. He figures the longest they’ve held some sort of visual connection outside his dreams, it is the barely second long stare when he drops a pen during lectures and she turns behind to look at what went on. 

Y/n herself forces the part of her face to stay in place. The boy before her stands with eyes large as the reflective ornaments behind them. He refuses to blink and she wonders if she’ll need to walk up to him and move the lids up and down for him. As to not laugh, Y/n reaches down to the ground, and Sunwoo’s eyes follow. A glove and candy wrapper lies on the spot between the two of them, it must have flown out when he shoved his hands out ( like a loser!!?!??!? ) he thinks, does a painful face when she faces the ground instead of him. 

“Here.” Before she reaches up fully, Sunwoo lets his shut eyes and creased skin fall into an unbothered expression.  The hand in front of his mouth, fingers that curled up slightly as if to rip a piece out of his own teeth, shifts behind his back. Now she stands before him fully, even closer than the first time she scared him. Her hand with his glove and wrapper are dreadfully close, in a way where he sees his past selves fall to the floor. He thinks he can sense her perfume from this distance (really it’s the beauty shop five meters away) and he hopes to brush past the skin of her hands when he takes the glove. 

“Thanks” Sunwoo scratches the back of his neck and reaches out carefully for her hand. Though, he doesn’t need to wish as he spreads his palm. A single star enchanted in a miracle must have fallen in daylight as Y/n takes her free hand around his wrist gently, turns it so his palm faces the sky and gives the glove and wrapper. A butterfly that has been slowly waking up in his stomach, for the first time sets itself free when she brushes past his fingers. 

“No worries.” She smiles and Sunwoo says something incoherent which makes Y/n lean in closer. The simple motion makes him nearly drop the glove again and Y/n smiles even harder than the moment before. 

To have never paid much attention to the boy before him, simply just acknowledged his present when the moment called for it, she feels strangely enthralled by having so much affect on him. Though, she decides to conceal that feeling, hiding it away in the cold shadows so as to not make judgment for her. 

“You’re not with Jacob?” She asks curiously. 

Sunwoo who has stood in absolute silence, barely on his knees as they seem to give up every time she takes a step closer towards him. The butterflies grow old in a single second at the mention of the Angel’s name. That conversation from a day before replays in his mind and apprehensive commotion take his heart from behind, like the sudden wind. He straightens his posture. 

“No, he had other things.” Sunwoo falls over his own words and the single pupil can’t seem to find a comfortable spot in the crowded entrance decorated in warm tones. Y/n’s own arm falls to her sides, out of her pockets and her chin forces upwards, to let her features hidden under the scarf out. Each part and motion of her essence seem to open up as Sunwoo forces his body closer against his heart. To rigidly press up his shoulders and force the scarf higher up, as to feel his warm breath on the fabric.

“Are you cold, Sunwoo?” Y/n takes another step towards him, takes her hand without a glove on his red cheek. The sigh at the back of his throat that suffocates behind the material of clothing, he sees the red ornaments in the background, become vivid as her eyes, clear as the lightning in the shop window, looks into his own. A part of him speaks to lean in against her touch, close his eyes and let her brush the past off his skin. While he hears how Jacob’s voice lingers between his two ears. To run away and stay close and protect his unstained heart. 

“You really are.” Sunwoo doesn’t get to react before Y/n takes his arm jacket. To navigate the thin space between padded layers and paper bags, Sunwoo nearly trips over as they come to the final glass door, dividing the two spaces. In the mall, at the black carpets where melted snow has spread over, they stand, Y/n still in grip with his jacket. 

“You should get something warm.” Y/n says and looks up at him as they walk further into the mall. 

“I have no money.” Sunwoo answers distressed as he can feel Jacob’s almighty pressure beat down on him from above. 

“I have, don’t worry.” 

How foolish he does feel as they sprint pass the endless store windows and openings. His sneakers that are not built for melted snow lose grip on the marble floor as they come closer to a cafe in the inner corner of the mall. Sunwoo curses himself silently as he every season refuses to change shoes, better not become a habit if he ever gets rich enough to get a car, he thinks. 

The cafe they walk into has a rather dark complexion, contrasting to the white marble floor of the outside. Y/n is still holding his arm, she leads him further into the warm light and velvet furnitures. Sunwoo simply looks up at her own features as she gently pushes him down the couch in the absolute furthest corner of the cafe. Y/n herself, takes a step back, in which Sunwoo starts incoherently talking and reaching out his arm again.

“I’m getting us something warm, I’ll be back, Sunwoo.” 

His arm, freezed in that space she left it in. He watches her silhouette disappear behind a wall to get to the counter, and when only the low sound of christmas music reaches him. He falls back into the velvet material, smiles so deeply that he has to hide his face in between the material of the scarf. 

His emotions as if being pushed by two opposite parts, he feels like. Sunwoo rests his head against the soft material and feels two identities on each shoulder. Jacob on one, Y/n on the other. Each one takes a stern grip on his shirt and creates tidal waves in his heart. And how hard it pulsates in the very center of his chest. He tries to figure out, as he watches the abstract pattern on the ceiling, is it of fear of complete infatuation? 

He doesn’t get to wonder about that for much too long as he hears footsteps come all closer. Sunwoo forces himself off the back rest, a red pillow lands on the floor, before his feet. But it flashes past him and he forgets it as soon as Y/n stands before him with a black tray. Her beanie and scarf is off and it rather rearranges her hair and shirt. So beautifully natural in a slightly tired stage, how he wants to grab his shirt and kiss her, he thinks. And if it weren’t for Jacob at the other line, he might have stood up and asked her. 

“You’re throwing pillows?” She asks while laughing. Y/n place the tray on the table and reach down. Sunwoo, too, reaches for it  after scratching his neck. They awkwardly meet at the very bottom of the floor, both of them with their own hand on the velvet material. Sunwoo looks in her eyes genuinely as she too has paused before him. As if it’s the only time in his life where stars collide, he observes each of her shadows and highlights in deep adoration, as if to paint that picture when he can’t reach out for her. 

Y/n who gifted her hand to fold him weak in his knees, feels her own heart suddenly chime off like the bells in the far winter distance. Those seconds feel like minutes and she tears her eyes off his own and takes the pillow. 

“You should eat, Sunwoo.” She coughs and motions at the tray. 

He slowly sits up too, looks at the tray. Latte, a pie of sorts and two apples. 

“Okay.” He stutters and tries to take off his scarf. The end tangles itself into his jacket which in turn, secures in a part of the couch. 

Y/n bites her lip as too force down a genuine smile over his fast paced and incautious motions. 

“Here, drink this.” She coughs again as she holds out the white porcelain cup towards him. How the tidal wave turns again and Sunwoo scratches his neck and leans just slightly away from the cup. 

“I don’t think I should-” 

“Why?” Her smile disappears in an instant and he grows even more anxious. 

“I’ve been sleeping badly.” He forces a laugh and takes the cup from her hands, “But I’ll take it either way.”

Time awkwardly passes them as they sit by the table. Sunwoo drinks from the coffee, but hasn’t touched either the pie or the apple. A part of her suspiciously watches the scene in third person perspective. The rigid posture of his shoulder and the constant change in focus point. As if someone else is on his mind. 

“What are you thinking of, Sunwoo?” She asks gently. He looks at him with big eyes and then the window. 

“The coffee." He says enthusiastically and lifts the cup, “I think it’s the best of my life!” He smiles, but he judges her as unconvinced by the look she gives him alone, so he supports his statement, just like in class, “Wow!” 

As no words come out or a change in expression, Sunwoo closes his eyes for a second and mentally throws his body out the window. And when he opens and sees her face once again, he falls back in his seat. 

Another moment of silence passes. 

“You can tell me, Sunwoo.” She smiles and scoots a bit closer towards him, “If you’re comfortable of course, I’m a good listener.” 

The pendulum in his heart swings to the opposite side as he looks at her eyes filled with warm light reflection from above. The worries in his mind, that’s been running all day and night, that tears at his skin and holds him away from dreams. He holds the cup in his hands, because if he even dares to open his mouth, he feels the words come out of him like waterfalls. 

“I’m just a bit confused, I guess.” He admits and looks at the dark wall. 

“Of what?” She asks with a low voice and watches his side profile. 

It is painfully quiet before he speaks, to filter the words he wants to say, “Life, I guess.” He says, “I don’t really know what I want.” 

Y/n, too, becomes rather like the snow falling outside as he sincerely, just lightly, loft the curtain cover over his heart. The music fades as her mind leans closer towards him, the thin line into an undiscovered part of the world. 

“Is it a lot of choices or…is it just blank?” She asks cautiously. 

“Or I do know.” he falls back in his seat, “It’s just, someone said it’s not a good choice for me. But I feel happy when I think about he-it.” 

The sentence leaving his lips comes like an arrow, aimed at the very center of her complex. The fatal end of the arrow forces itself in between her skin and before Y/n can even react, it sits, so dangerously in her heart, hanging by that very metal. How her own structured play melts in that same spot, run down her lips even when that inner part burns to keep it in. 

“I also want something that is bad, apparently.” She speaks and looks down her own lap. 

“Is it a person or…” Sunwoo dares to ask, “or something else?” 

“Something else.” Y/n fiddles with the hem of her sweater.

“Will it hurt you if you do it?” 

Y/n looks up from the tearing string of her shirt. As another snowflake falls to the floor, their eyes connect. She needs to look slightly down, as he lies on his back against the furniture. The lights illuminate him from above and a single shine from the left casts itself over his heart and eyes. The sight before her leaves her breathless somehow, the arrow twists itself a bit harder and somehow she leans in and answers him with a tone of clear night sky. 

“I don’t think so.” She pauses and looks at his brown eyes dipped in sunlight, “Will it hurt you?” 

Sunwoo shakes his head delicately against the fabric, “No, …but someone else might.” 

She frowns, “Might?” 

“I’m not sure, I haven’t ask-” He stops talking mid sentence, sees from the perspective behind the wall how the curtains lift a centimeter higher for every word spoken, “I don’t know.” He repeats. 

Sunwoo’s hand, softly spread out over the couch. The velvet material forces itself out between his fingers and plummets down against the frame when another, just like his, lies over it. Sunwoo looks down at the spot where two essences connect. How the impulses bridge over to the other when they lay skin to skin. He follows her arm, up to her shoulder and her eyes. He gets taken aback just a bit by her expression. She’s awfully quiet and won’t give him that gentle sweet smile she has been giving him since outside. Rather, it’s something earnest in her dull frame. Something that can’t be quite expressed in words, rather he stares at her and tries to figure the feeling in her eyes. There’s a window in her eyes to another world, and he feels an yearning to get to that place. 

“Sunwoo?” She asks him with her hand still on his, “Will you help me?” Y/n stops. 

“Help me get away-” 

Y/n’s hand falls behind her back, when Sunwoo abruptly takes his hand closer to his own presence. To stand up and reach for the high ceiling when everything else melts to the floor.

“Sorry, I have-'' He desperately reaches for his scarf in between the pillows.The oil lamp on a round table shakes as he accidentally hits it walking away from the table. Sunwoo tears his eyes off her figure and down to the floor the moment he sees her expression drenched in midnight rain. Though, the angel on his shoulder points at her wildly, turns on her sides and desperately shouts in his right ear until its voice rings of pain. 

“I’ll pay you back later.” He falls over words and trips over his other foot as he turns on his heel. Y/n opens her mouth, but before even the first syllable escapes her lips, Sunwoo is behind the wall, out of view. The last trace of him is the fading footsteps running out of the small corner, and the dark velvet spot where his hand was.  

  “You forgot your apple.” She nearly whispers as her voice is no longer to use. 

The sun has completely disappeared under the horizon. Not even a moon in a clear dark night, as it snows heavily. Beneath the streetlamps, where the light is at its strongest before spreading in all directions, you’ll see the feather-like fragments plummet down towards the white mass. Though it’s dark without a star course in the sky, the snow is astonishingly white that the warm tone from the lamps reflects from the ground. 

A single trail in the new snow leads up to an apartment complex. Horribly painted spots in rough edges, scattered without a clear pattern and probably pretty badly isolated. Jacob sits at the edge of a window frame. About three meters off the ground. To carefully watch the secret world behind the glass, Jacob turns himself slightly and leans in towards the room. It’s completely dark, not a single light source on. Rather the only thing looking back at him is his own eyes and the faint shape of his wings. 

The snow on the frame melts underneath his fingers, it turns red and itches. Jacob waves the water of his hand as his human body is a burden before starting to unlock the window. He remembers back in time, when Sunwoo had his own little room, one wall away from his parents. It was about two or three times Jacob had to force himself between the thin creak.

He gets the glass door open and widens the gap. The wind from outside prevails and spreads into the room. Brush past the curtains and extend itself onto each surface of the apartment. Jacob himself takes a step onto the carpet beneath the window. His bare foot makes no sound and a slight grind lingers between the four walls as he closes the window. 

Jacob let his eyes observe the home in a panorama like manner. And at the very right of his presence, is a bed in the farthest corner. He leans in, to discern the shadows in the fabric. Nearly completely covered by the sheets, he does catch the top of her head. Y/n sleeps in near silence and Jacob carefully takes a step backwards from the bed, instead closer towards the kitchen area. 

He saw the scenery from today, brushed past him and he shivered as he sat in the library. On the way home he tried to meet up with Sunwoo, but his voice was short and rigid on the other line. Events seem to fall in line for her, but stars can’t die right now, he thinks. So in a desperate attempt to save himself and Sunwoo, Jacob stands as an intruder in her home to find the red apple from the cafe. He knows she took it home, therefore he takes his hands on the wall to feel himself getting closer to something of a different texture.  

“Why are you in my room?” A voice tired and confused from the corner he just left takes a single knife and lets the blade wound the quiet night. His shoulders tense up and he refuses to either turn his heel or take a look behind his back. 

“I’m not.” Jacob answers in a painfully unconvincing manner. 

“You are.” By the two words alone and her tone, he can see the frown on her face. 

“No.” Jacob walks further away, accidentally hits the wall and moves left. 

“Why are you showing your wings?” 

He’s quiet for a second, “It’s a costume.” 

“Like Cupid or what?” She scoffs. 

He breathes in, “For the las-I’m not Cupid.” He moves his hands in an outward motion, “I’m an Angel, an Guardian Angel.” 

“Seems like I hit a nerve.” She says and sits up. Jacob’s quiet. At this point, the dark complexion of the room and their eyes has adjusted to one another and Y/n sees him in the other end, outlined without any blemishing. Awkwardly rigid in the very end, reminiscent of a lamp post and he caresses his left wing.

“You never answered my question, Angel.” She says. 

“What?”

“Why are you in my home?” 

“I don’t know.” He flees again. 

“You’re in here checking the architecture or what?” She sighs and looks at him with sharp eyes, “I know you’ve been talking with Sunwoo.” 

Jacob looks at her again, expression much colder than before, “And I know you’ve been too, don’t come close to him.” 

“Is that what this is about?” She asks. 

“I’m not telling you.” He takes a step forward and looks over the kitchen  sink, “Where do you have your food?” 

“In the fridge.” Y/n deadpans. 

“No.” Jacob hits his forehead.

“You’re not even human to begin with, don’t tell me where I should store my groceries.” She pushes up the sheet and stands up. Jacob looks around the counter again, to seek a rounded form with red shadows, but as the surface is seemingly empty. Jacob takes three steps towards the window and opens the glass door. 

“Jacob-” Y/n turns from her bead and grabs his arm as his wings fold out in her room. The wind from outside brushes harshly against her skin. 

“Don’t bring Sunwoo into your mess, Y/n.” He looks at her and his eyes of liquid moonlight, in the same shade as his wings but brighter. She’s left with her mouth just slightly agape as Jacob looks less human by a single change in perspective. The wings weighs over him heavily and another wind scatters the hair oóver his human complexion. 

“But I-” 

“Just don’t, please.” As the last words leave his lips and the grip on his wrists has started to loose. A wind much stronger than anything from outside forces her hair to alter from before her chest to behind her back and waters her eyes. She closes her eyes before desperately letting her upper body out the window, watch how his silhouette fades into snow in the night.. 

“Do you need to go, then?” Jacob stands before the sink in his room, drops of water following a constant pattern down the drain as he watches a puddle in the very bottom form. Though, he does shift his vision away, out to the open space before his bed, where on the carpet, Sunwoo lies spread out like a starfish. The sight has become too familiar that when Sunwoo isn’t here and Jacob goes to bed and looks down to see no one, it feels rather desolate. He walks through the front door nearly everyday in the afternoon or evening. Jacob asked him if he should get a mattress, full time on the hard floor spot, but Sunwoo insisted not to.

“Yes, Eric’s gonna kill me if I don't," he sighs. Jacob takes the glass up to his mouth once more and watches Sunwoo shift his head on the ash orange fabric. 

“He’s like “Sunwoo,we’re were you?! I prepared this little bowl-you didn’t even show up!”” His hands up in the air, vertical from the floor. It is rather amusing when he shifts one of his legs up and starts imitating his friend in a high voice. 

“Either way, Y/n’s not gonna be there.” Sunwoo sighs. 

“Why?” Jacob asks. 

“We sat at a cafe, short said, she probably thinks I’m a maniac or something?” 

“Did you tell her about our suspicions?” Jacob eyes him. 

His hands force the rest of his body off the floor. The strands in his hair are loosely tied together and his eyes roll up before coming back down, “No, I didn’t, I wouldn’t do that.” 

Only the awkward lingering noise of the microwave can be heard in the room until Sunwoo speaks up again. To watch the Angel before the counter behind the illuminating light beneath the shelf, “I’m going, you decide on your own, Cupid.” 

Jacob did go eventually, though half way towards Eric’s house Sunwoo needed to hold onto Jacob’s arm. The angel either fell knees first in the snow accumulated corners or landed on his back when the streetlights hit the ice at a certain angle. At the front of the house, behind the windows you’ll see pink purple shade light seeping out and faint music from the vertical wooden walls. Sunwoo takes Jacob’s lower arm tightly against himself as he nearly cartwheels down the steep to the right. 

“Aren’t you supposed to fly or something? Why can’t you even walk?” 

With Jacob being a closer impression of Sunwoo’s potential cross body bag when they stand before the door, the one with free hands knocks at the upper side of the rectangle piece. Before he even gets to fully let his hand fall back to his side, the door frees from the frame and before them stands Eric. Expression extremely bright at first, the most vivid detail of a single scene, but it fades when his eyes form into a frown.  

“Who is he?” The one inside tilts his head and looks at Jacob desperately hanging from Sunwoo’s arm. The angel realizes the rather massive plot hole opening up from underneath him and stays quiet. 

“Jacob, you’ve met before.” Sunwoo says, so clearly without any sort of doubt, that he may have convinced Eric alone with that. 

“Have I?” "Maybe I have?” He looks up at the upper door frame. Crosses his arms and falls into wonder.  

“Let us in Loser, feeling like a frozen fish finger out here.” Sunwoo deadpans and Eric immediately jumps to the right, extends his hand out and motions it slowly towards the warm litten inside. Jacob, though, he’s inside and feels the warmth of the electric heaters dissolve the frozen part of his skin, he becomes even more rigid. 

People with faces he can’t name stands in groups. Each conversation  blends together with the other and that in it by itself, overpowers the faint music playing from a corner on the left. fairy lights taken from the constellation itself hang on the edges of the second floor. It is darkly lit with a warm violet hint covered in every wood wall. A single christmas tree in the inner corner. 

 A strong feeling of embarrassment comes rushing over him in a single storm and Jacob awkwardly starts grabbing the color of his blazer and stands, once again, like a street lamp far from the corner. 

“What are we supposed to do?” Jacob says quietly and looks over at Sunwoo. The expression of the other one is as casual as if they were just walking down the uni lectures, though, he frowns his eyes and asks him to say it again. 

“What’s happening?” Jacob repeats. 

Sunwoo lifts his shoulders, “What usually happens when you’re with people.” 

“Am I supposed to know that?” Jacob higher his voice. 

“This is what middle school dance parties prepared you for.” 

“I never went to middle school.” He deadpans and Sunwoo stares at him with tired eyes. Despite the moon-like shine illuminating over the walls and reflected in the single ornaments, Sunwoo’s eyes are as dead as if staring at a piece of concrete.

“You Loser, I forgot you didn’t go to middle school.”

The Angel is about to take his arm up and defend himself, but Sunwoo shifts his vision from him towards the violent presence hitting his shoulder. The group of people standing before them, Sunwoo, returns the hit on a guy much taller than him. As if a scene out of his horrors, Jacob once again tense up as the group of guys smiles and takes Sunwoo’s shoulder, but becomes wide eyed or frowns when they see the street lamp in blue blazer. 

“Who’s this?” One further back asks and Sunwoo casually takes Jacob’s own shoulder. 

“Jacob, my big brother.” 

“You don’t have a brother.” One is quick to interrupt. 

“Now I have.” Sunwoo turns his head in a motion so quick that Jacob takes a step back. Two of them seem to have fallen into a conversation on their own, slowly walking away from the circle. Jacob makes eye contact with the one closest to him, he examines him in a sort of manner that makes him strained and legs nearly restless. As Jacob takes steps in his place that ultimately leads nowhere, he gives a painful smile to the guy closest. Lips pressed and eyes in full contrast to the smile. Is he even there? Jacob thinks as the guy, still expressionless, watches him.

Another guy, beside Mister Dazed, takes a step out and reaches his hand towards him. 

“Hi, I’m Changmin." Nice to meet y-”

“I need to go.” Jacob says abruptly and the group looks at him. The Angel points at a vague part of the horribly lit corner beside the closed door. It is rather a pile of outerwear, soaked in water from molten snow,  

“You smoke?” One steps closer to him and suddenly throws his arm over his shoulder. In which, Jacob tenses up even more, dramatically presses his wings closer to his skin as he feels the stranger’s arm brush against the back of his neck. 

“He can’t even-” Sunwoo starts. 

“Yeah!” Jacob forces a smile. 

“We’ll go together.” The guy says and Jacob laughs with wide eyes. 

“Actually.” He bends his back just slightly, escapes the stranger’s arms and shifts his direction. Back against the door as he moves all the further from the group, “...alone smoking is my favorite thing.” He smiles, “Been waiting all day!” Jacob takes a last step before turning fully away from them, each guy stares in silence as the door opens once again and his figure disappears out the cold landscape. 

“He won’t need an extra jacket or something?” Changmin points at the door and turns his head towards Sunwoo. In which the younger lifts his shoulder and takes a step further into the house. 

“He’ll figure it out sooner or later.” 

To stand up for another passage in time, Sunwoo stands with the group of guys, laughs in between their sentences and moves his legs to the standard christmas playlist in the background. His stomach may be just so empty that nothing’s enough to fulfill it, therefore he takes his hands up and gently forces the plastic cup in Eric’s hand back from him. And as the alcohol runs between the veins of every passing face, the center floor fills and spreads out in every direction. At some point the music rises in volume and his peers walk across the floor, up the stairs to the second. Someone hangs on the edge and pours the drink down the crowd. When Eric started to hysterically wave his hands to the person above and the broom became a proper part of his outfit, Sunwoo moved backwards from the crowd. Sit down on a sofa beside the christmas tree. 

Though, as he has been sitting in silence, watch the crowd. A voice from another direction than where the silhouettes of black slacks, mini dresses and glitter in hair stands reaches him. Though the hopeless love song playing in his right ear, a gentle voice in his left says his name. 

“Sunwoo?” 

To move from one square of the couch to the other, he holds his hands up as he leans against the arm rest. It is nearly more than a meter in between the two of them as he sits like that. Though, his arms fall down to his lap once he sees her figure, contrasting the christmas tree behind her. He thinks about her posture, much more rigid and sharp than when he sees her in the hallways. Both of her hands, gathered before her thighs and held a small white bag. 

“Hi, Y/n.” Sunwoo says in a monotone voice. His legs fold out in a comfortable position and his face shifts, away from her own presence and focuses on the floor, the high ceiling or the people on the second floor. Y/n bites her lip, just slightly before the lip tint fades because of his motions. The space between, as time passes it becomes a wall. It makes her tug on the red straps of the white paper bag. 

“Are you having fun?” She asks after a time of silence. Sunwoo looks up again at her before, once again, taking a look at the door out. 

“Not really.” He admits. 

“Why?” She dares to take a step closer, so her knees touch the armrest on the opposite side. Sunwoo lifts his shoulder, letting his head scan the room in a panorama like frame before it falls to his shoes. 

“I don’t know, I'm a bit lonely.” 

Y/n nods, though he can’t see it, “Isn’t Jacob here?” 

“He is.” He sighs, “Just pissing himself outside before coming back in.” Sunwoo deadpans as his head lies in his palm. The picture he drew with just one sentence makes the tense grip on the bag a bit looser. Y/n smiles as she imagines the Angel hesitantly running after Sunwoo in the dark. Run around the house ten times, do a breathing exercise he saw on youtube and come back in. She laughs slightly. The faint sound does reach Sunwoo’s ears and he looks towards her side.

“Sounds good.” She nods. 

A sequence of the rather insignificant details of her life. Lied out before him in a span of a few seconds. Sunwoo stares at her, breathing and feels his own essence collapse further down the fabric of the couch. To shift back his vision to the dull colors and silhouettes of his shoes, Sunwoo closes his eyes, smiles only for himself to know, letting the nail of his thumb scratch on the skin of his pointed finger. 

Y/n bites her lip again, feeling a sort of rush similar to eating sugar. It runs towards every corner of her body and cycles back to her heart. Slowly, Y/n takes a seat on the couch, still with a noticeable gap in between. 

“What would you say if you got a present?” She asks and tilts her head to inspect him closely. 

Sunwoo frowns, “I don’t know, I haven’t.” 

Y/n moves a bit closer, “You got one now, would you reject it?” 

Sunwoo silently watches her, feeling how the shirt tightens around his chest.

“I guess not.” He scoffs, this time can’t suppress the way his lips crease upwards. The vision of his eyes won’t seem to fall in place, as they land on the wooden floor again. 

With that, Y/n takes the white bag from her lap, how the distance becomes extremely insignificant when Sunwoo can smell her scent from the bag and her wrists. Though, he simply watches her, without words or major motions. His eyes glisten from the shining light in the ceiling, stars above the ceiling and in the top of trees, but  truly she thinks none of them compares to the single reflection in his dark brown eyes. 

“Here.” She shakes the bag one time.  

Sunwoo hesitantly reaches his hand out for the white paper. Takes the edge between his fingers as if not to stain the perfect white shade. Sunwoo looks between the bag and Y/n’s eyes, she nods her head and smiles again. Her hands grip the hem of her dress as he anxiously thinks about how he opens the package and waits for her confirmation as he undoes each bow. 

As the edges open and reveal the inside. The folds of his clothing fall over his still body and a single strand of his fringe loosens from the side and covers his eyes. With his eyes curved perfectly in chocolate shade, he looks up to her what feels like the thousandth. She nods and he takes up a red apple. He observes the shade and slight pattern in the skin. 

“I bought it for you then, I wanted you to have it.” She says. 

There is too, the pie slice wrapped in plastic and tied in a bow. As if a picture from before has come back to life, to the present to affect their lives. Sunwoo grips the apple a bit tighter in his palm. Let the fruit shimmer from the light in between his fingers.

“I think food as presents is best.” She says suddenly, “You use it.” In the very bottom of the paper bag, filled to all for corners lies a red packet of strawberries. 

He looks at the apple once again. He can’t quite describe the feeling in between the ribs and his lungs. How his heart beats profusely and the vision before him is as if from a dream. Sunwoo swears that this couch, behind this tree in this light, he has dreamt of before last night in his bed alone in his apartment. But unlike him in that bed in  his past, he can’t without hesitation or extra thought bring her gift to his mouth and let it fill his heart. How the red skin glistens astonishingly bright, to fill his heart with red until the end of life. But unconsciously, he turns the apple, as if looking for mold spots. Purple shades where it has been infested and already consumed. 

Though, as Y/n looks at him with an expression she has never given him or anyone else. One that wouldn’t be seen in the crowd, just between where the secret records can be hidden and never played. Sunwoo finally licks his lips, brings the fruit up to his mouth and takes a bite of the apple. 

How the fiber texture crushes and spreads sweetness all over his mouth as he bites down. He looks at the broken spot where the red turns white and visualizes the deep red becoming a part of his own self, his own essence. As he looks up from that spot, he sees Y/n close to him. Her upper body leaned over his legs and her features so detailed in view that everything else bleeds into the other. And he nearly starts coughing on the piece of apple in his mouth. 

Though, as she is leaned over, she holds one of the strawberries in her hand. Bring it close to his lips. Her left hand comes down to a spot on the couch between his thighs to come even closer when his face blossoms spring, red like the two fruits and forces his eyes away from her. Unintentionally lay his eyes on the crowd unaware and start laughing. 

“Please, Sunwoo.” She says in a strawberry sweet tone. 

Sunwoo rolls his eyes, in a single motion comes back up and takes a bite of the strawberry in her hand. Immediately after, taking her wrist and guiding the remaining part up towards her own, in which she too takes a bite. At that single moment, Sunwoo shifts abruptly closer to her chest as a cheer breaks out at the center of the floor. Red paper petals, like snow itself paints the space between floor and ceiling before decorating the floor.

-

How that world becomes silent as he steps out into the snow and lets the door behind him close. Jacob stands with his hands down his sides and watches how the moon and her stars let it shine graze the surface he stands on. The snow around his feet reflects it back, sparkles like it is earth's own constellation. 

After some time, Jacob presses the snow beneath his feet into a tight layer as he walks away from the door. He comes to a rather hidden side where street lights are dim and a single wall faces him. To the right of a lonely window stands a green bin covered in snow. Each step echoes in that corner as he brushes off the snow and opens the bin. The moon shines its vague light over the insides and reveals black bags of shining material. He looks down for a second, letting the cold from around him come between his hands and numb them. 

An angel’s mission has been broken. When Jacob opened the door once again, the crowd, as if all knowing, separated like curtains to reveal the one his purpose is to protect, on the sofa entangled like the galaxy itself with Y/n. How a scenery in a second sets off his breath and the constant fear that has been choking his neck. It chases him desperately as he walks a deep pattern in the snow. He feels his wings from behind. 

At last, Jacob takes his hand back to the front. Down to his right pocket on his blazer where he takes out a lighter. Red hard plastic against his cold skin, taken from the pile of jackets, as he brings it closer to the black bags in the bin. How the music comes to him through the cracks in the walls as he struggles to push down the extinguisher. That single spot on his right thumb hurts as he, over and over again, pushes down the metal. 

A hard knock against the wall before him makes Jacob fall behind the bin. He nearly lands on the snow as he embraces his knees in order to stay up. It falls silent the second after the rapture and Jacob slowly takes the lighter to his chest. Each of his breaths creates white clouds like the snow beneath him. Jacob lets his knees up gently and takes the tip of his fingers on the window frame. His figure in the corner furthest from sight while he peeks into the warm world before him. Three meters away stands Sunwoo with Y/n. Jacob swallows and lets his breath paint the cold window. They stand like him, in a far corner of the room where all the light has a hard time reaching and people pass them by. Though, the cold sensation on his fingers becomes all the more nonexistent as he watches how the two of them take each other's hands and fall back and forth to the muted rhythm. As they start turning around, Jacob sees the light nostalgic of the moon paint itself on his face. How every moment before this one has fallen obscene. 

The last bit of ice around his heart, melts and drains out in the snow, as he watches how the world now belongs to them. It pains his hearts and even more the wings, but how the fear has stopped chasing him, sits beneath the window right before the Angel, to watch their mouth speak words only they can hear. 

Jacob lets his hand fall off the window frame, all as his body too becomes even weaker. Finally, he sits fully in the snow with his back leaned against the wall, right under the window. The lighter against his chest, too, must now fall out of mind and plummet to the snow, like the rest of him. 

“I’m so sorry, I hope you can forgive me.” Jacob whispers, and lets his wings free from his blue blazer and embrace the rest of him tightly. 

A pastel filter lies over the world as Jacob opens his eyes. The angle gives the floor a steep perspective as the wooden lines lead him to the door. Red petals of paper are scattered before him. The spot on the floor has become warm, he feels his body get colder as he shifts his left leg. But rather than the cold, he feels a sensation much stronger as he gently spreads his finger over the floor. At the center of his back, pierce and rips burning wounds in his skin, and it becomes all sharper as the lines of the world become clearer. 

“Jacob?” 

He forces his head up from the floor, to again face the entrance. But as his eyes fall onto a figure, he angles his head upwards and sees Sunwoo looking down towards him. His silhouette is draped in haze and his blurred complexion shows concern over his impending body. Sunwoo comes all closer and falls onto his knees before Jacob’s weak figure. 

“Are you okay, Jacob?” His voice is even louder than the last time. 

Sunwoo’s hand touches Jacob’s arm and in the same instant, Jacob feels a sensation reminiscent of the end of a knife piercing right through the burning spot on his back. As the sensation affects him and forces him to fall back onto the floor, Sunwoo hesitantly takes his hands back, before leaning closer again. 

“Jacob?” 

“What’s with Jacob?” Another voice in the far corner of the room reaches the very mit. Hers is tired and exhausted, reflected in the way she looks around the room from the floor and weakly walks over to the two of them. 

“Jacob?” Sunwoo says again and takes his hands over his upper arm. At that moment, he sees the spot beneath his blazer move frequently, pushing desperately to tear the fabric. Slowly, Sunwoo takes the collar of Jacob’s blazer and forces it off him. As the fabric lies beside his aching figure, both Y/n and Sunwoo watch how the white wings on Jacob’s back spreads free and falls before it fades to black. At the single spot in the room, each feather falls like snow over the pastel complexion. 

Without another second of thinking or brushing his blazer, Sunwoo forces Jacob up by his arms. The fallen shut his eyes fully and his head hangs down and the strands of his hair cover whatever life left in him. 

“Help me, Y/n.” Sunwoo says frustrated. Y/n watches in complete silence and opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. 

“Please, Y/n, please.” He begs and Y/n shakes her head, leaves that spot and takes Jacob’s other arm. The Angel hangs by his arms on the two shoulders. He is heavy on their human bodies and Sunwoo starts walking towards the door. 

“Where are we taking him?” Y/n breathes out as her head hangs low because of his weight. 

"The hospital.” He stresses. 

“We can’t.”

“What else should we fucking do?” Y/n doesn’t speak as his eyes are desperately staring into her own. The sight alone aches her. To whatever words that could be voiced, she suppresses them. Take a steady grip on the Angel’s arm and take the first step towards the door once again. Sunwoo follows without hesitation. The trail of feathers, mixed with red paper bits from a past night. How it all seems to be from a different life when they fiddle with the door handle. At last, the apple, half bitten, hits the inner corner of a wall as Sunwoo gets the door open, looking at the new sun as if it is the first time. 

© littleroaes, written and all

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