#wong kunhang au

[meiideryz]

how wayv's first kiss with you would be like

pairing: wayv x reader

kun

after a romantic dinner. he drives you home from taking you to your date with him at a fancy dinner he had arranged, wanting you to show how he really loves you and would want to take the relationship into the next step. he walks you to the front porch of your house, standing near the doorstep. before he says goodbye, he says how much he enjoyed the date, and you say the same. there is a still sound of silence of him staring at you. then, he leans in to capture your lips to his. the rhythm of your mouths moving against each other is slow, but good enough for the both of you to feel the butterflies in your stomachs. he smiles at you when you pull away, and then his hand reached for your own, kissing the back of your palm before he leaves the neighborhood. kun will never forget such a memorable moment.

ten

during a game of spin the bottle. at first he laughs, staring at the empty wine bottle landing in your direction. with the rest of the players anticipating, he isn't afraid to back out. he hates being called a coward. he makes no hesitation before smashing his lips against yours. there's still the taste of alcohol both of you consumed just moments ago. besides the liquor, he also feels drunk with the way he keeps pressing his lips deeper and his tongue swiping on your bottom lip as a permission for more access. ten merely forgets the audience watching him, focusing entirely to make you feel good and pleased. when he pulls away, he gets a good view of your lips, smeared and coated with his own saliva, and lipstick smudged from the corners of your mouth. seeing you in that state gives him a satisfied look on his face, a smug creeping up from his lips.

winwin

saying goodbye to him. sicheng is given the opportunity to finally pursue the passion he loves, but it hurts him to know that he needs to leave where he already finds and calls home—you. both of you stand before the pane glass doorframes of the airport, sicheng's hand holds onto the handle of his luggage, while the other never leaves yours. it's all going too fast. the grip on your hand tightens. you notice the way he's trying to hold to his emotions, how hard he's trying to stifle his sobs. he feels you return the same tightness on his hand, assuring him that everything will be fine. a hand slowly creeps up to gently touch his already stained cheeks. he's going to miss you, so much. sicheng's hand clasps around the hand where you touch him, pulling it down. and there, you feel his plump lips on yours. it's trembling, and of course, it's sad. you don't tell him to stay through your reciprocation, but instead, it tells him to go, to chase what he loves.

xiaojun

acting out a kiss scene. it's the first rehearsal of the play the casts are going to act in, including the two of you. it's no surprise when both of you find out to be the leads of the play. dejun thinks that it will go as smoothly as possible, given the fact that the two of you are comfortable with each other of everything, and you think so too. as all of you are reading the script, the director reminds you of the kiss scenes, so when the actual practice came, dejun tells himself that the kiss is and only for professional purposes. he composes himself before standing in front of you with a smile. you say your lines, enunciating them word for word with feelings to embody the character as he does the same. his hands reaches for your own just like what it says on the script, and wasting no time, he plants a kiss on your lips. you don't move, but he feels his stomach doing the somersaults. all he can think about at this very moment is your soft lips, your grip on his hand tightens, your eyelashes tickling his cheeks—then it's all gone when you pull away. looking at each other for a few seconds, a sudden fit of laughter bursts out from the two of you. both of you suppress your giggles when the director yells, telling you and dejun to stop laughing and concentrate on the script.

hendery

out of curiosity. he stares at you with a surprised expression on his face after hearing you ask how a kiss feels like. it's not like he doesn't know how to kiss someone as he had gained experiences from previous relationships, and clearly this was your first. his mind go dizzy when you ask him to kiss you. he isn't sure if it's only his mind playing him, but with a couple slaps across his face, it's not a dream. before kissing you, hendery makes sure to ask if you're still okay with the idea, never forgetting to seek for your consent. with a hand on your neck and the other to cup your cheek, your lips are on his. the lingering touch of your hands on his chest traveling around his neck causes him to smile in between the kiss. he also makes sure that you're satisfied with the kiss he shares with you, in a way that will make you feel good and relieve to know that you just had the best first kiss ever given by your own friend. hendery can't seem to sleep the following nights, replaying the scene over and over again, as he starts to fall in love with you.

yangyang

in the heat of the moment. he understands why you're mad at him for completely ruining your date with a person you recently talked to. yangyang warns you over again that the guy isn't good for you, that his background isn't something that's worth to be with. he watches you pace around the room, telling him that he has no right to deny a relationship you want to have, telling him that he should mind his own business. he couldn't do that. he knows what's best for you because he cares for your happiness. if it weren't for him, you will be trapped in a toxic unbearable relationship that might emotionally and mentally break you. what he wants for you to realize that there is one who could actually treat and love you better—him. yangyang grabs you by the shoulders, snapping you out. you break free from his tight grip, wanting to turn around and leave the room. that is until you feel his hand tug your arm back to face him as he finally smashes his lips against yours. the kiss is nowhere near sweet and full of passion. it's rough, lips smacking against each other, teeth scraping the skin and muscle of your tongues, and short hot breaths filling the quiet room. he's angry, you're angry, but neither of you pull away.

©MEIIDERYZ 2024. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[mymoodwriting]

7.5k, The Bat AU, ABO dynamics, yandere, possessive behavior, mentions of human trafficking, mentions of sex trafficking, mafia vibes, omega reader, intimidation, manipulation, pheromones, smut, fingering, penetration, double penetration, voyeurism (@peanutpinet) (@starillusion13)

“I want this taken care of quickly and efficiently.”

Johnny already had a lot on his plate being the leader of his pack, and running the most notorious mafia group in the country. He didn’t have time for games, never wasting a chance to remind everyone why he was on top. His pack wasn’t just feared, but respected. They dealt with all kinds of things, but there were lines they didn’t cross. Such as human trafficking, in particular omega trafficking. 

Johnny prided himself on his pack being a mix of betas and alphas, and he regarded everyone in equal standing. He didn’t have to worry about them going rogue or fighting him for power. They understood that as a pack they had more power than anyone else. Of course there were still those that tried to cross them. Those that thought they could get away with things, but nothing happened without Johnny’s approval, especially not on his turf. 

The other day he had gotten word of a new club at the edge of town. A place to unwind where the entertainment was top dollar. There didn’t seem to be an issue, that is until Johnny heard about the omega entertainers at the establishment. The idea alone didn’t sit well with him so he had someone investigate. It wasn’t long before his suspicions were proven right and he gathered his people to storm the place. Scum like that didn’t deserve any mercy. 

Anyone present at the time of the raid was arrested, and help was provided to those who needed it. This was only the tip of the iceberg so Johnny knew he’d need to run some personal interrogations before handing over the guilty party to the police. While he did that he trusted his pack to clean up what was left of that awful place. The rest of the boys spread out through the establishment, making sure everyone got out safely. 

Jeno and Hendery paired up and cleared out some rooms. It was heartbreaking when they found what seemed to be a storage room where the entertainers were kept. As soon as the two stepped in the omegas cowered away, but they assured them that everything would be alright now, they were safe. Hendery led them out to where they could receive some help, although Jeno noticed a few still in the corner huddled up. He slowly approached, seeing that one of the omegas was curled up on the floor shaking. Something in his heart ignited and he slowly approached the omega, examining them. Just by scent alone he could tell the poor thing was sick.

“She’s burning up…”

“She’s been sick for a few days now. They never gave us anything to help…”

“I’ll take care of her now. The rest of you can go.”

Jeno took off his jacket and gently placed it on the omega, careful to pick them up in his arms. He carried them bridal style, making it outside where everyone was gathered. The proper thing to do was to hand her over to the paramedics, but something deep inside said otherwise. He glanced down at the omega in his arms, seeing how they trembled, and he knew he had to take responsibility. They were done here, so he went over to his vehicle, carefully placing the omega in his passenger seat and driving off. He texted the others to let them know he was leaving the scene, and that he’d see them all back at the base.

No one else was around, so it was quiet and empty when Jeno pulled into the garage. He checked on the omega, seeing that they were still trembling slightly. He got them out of the car, touched that they wrapped their arms around him. He debated putting them in a guest room, but ultimately decided to put them in his bedroom. Jeno gently laid down the omega and tucked them in, going off to get some medicine. He returned shortly with some pills and a glass of water, setting them down on the nightstand.

“Hey… I need you to wake up.”

Jeno sat at the edge of the bed, softly caressing the omega, trying to coax them to wake up. When he saw their eyes open he helped them sit up a bit.

“I have some medicine for you, do you think you can take it?”

He got a soft nod and helped them take the pills. He could tell they were still out of it, but at least they had some medicine now.

“You should start feeling better soon. I’m gonna make you some porridge, okay?” Another nod. “Alright, you just get some rest.”

Jeno laid them back down in bed, heading out and making his way to the kitchen. His cooking skills weren’t incredible, but he could make a simple porridge. As he finished that up the others returned, all but Johnny. Given what he was up to, he probably wouldn’t be back til tomorrow the earliest. Jeno greeted the others and then went to his room with the food. To his surprise the omega seemed calmer, and it brought a smile to his face. Part of him didn’t want to wake them up, but he knew they needed food. He pet them softly for a moment before gently shaking them awake.

“Hi, I have that porridge for you.”

Jeno helped them sit up again, spoon feeding them as well knowing they were still semi-conscious and lightly trembling.

“Do you feel better?” A small nod. “Then maybe you can tell me your name? I know we kinda skipped a lot of things here. My name is Jeno, and you?”

“… y/n…”

“That’s a beautiful name. I’m gonna leave some water here for you on the nightstand, and let you get some sleep. I’ll come by to check on you later, is that okay?”

“… yeah…”

“Good. Sleep well.”

After tucking you in Jeno left you to recover, going back to the kitchen to clean his dishes. It was easy to just continue on with the things he usually did. He saw no problem in what he was doing, he was just being helpful and looking out for someone. Although others might not agree. Since he was busy he didn’t realize Johnny had returned, and had called a meeting with everyone. He went looking for his members, telling them to gather. When he peeked into Jeno’s room he saw someone in bed and tsked, going over to them.

“What did you do to make yourself so tired?” 

Johnny pulled back the cover and froze, the scent hitting. He had a lot of questions, but he wasn’t going to get them here. He carefully backed away and shut the door. Now he had to hunt someone down.

“Jeno!”

Johnny went around looking for the offender, ultimately finding him in the garage. The boy had a smile on his face, but upon seeing Johnny glaring at him it dropped.

“What’s wrong?”

“Care to explain yourself?”

“About what?”

“The omega in your room!”

“The what? In where?” Jungwoo question. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s what I want to know.” Johnny stated. “Now talk.”

“Calm down, it’s nothing crazy. I saw she was ill with a fever and brought her home so I could look after her.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? Cause it was the right thing to do.”

“No. You are sending her back.”

“She stays.”

“On what grounds? Since when do you know how to take care of an omega?”

“Since now. She needs an alpha.”

“And why the fuck would it be you? Do you have any idea-” 

“She stays!” 

“Absolutely not!” 

“You gonna stop me?” 

“Once her fever breaks she’s going elsewhere.” 

“Where?” 

“Wherever she’s not out problem.”

“That makes you no better than the alphas who were at that club! The ones that trafficked her! Leaving a poor omega out in the wild for some ruthless beast of an alpha to claim her innocence! Are you nuts?”

“And you think she wants an alpha considering where she came from? By bringing her here you change nothing. She’s gonna wake up surrounded by alphas thinking she’s been kidnapped. The other omegas are waiting for her and will look after her.”

“And how are you so sure those other omegas know any better? We can show her that all alphas aren’t bad. So she won’t be scared of us.” Jeno explained. “Omegas think they’re nothing but a tool to mate with and alphas are ruthless thinking they were meant to rule when in reality we’re still part human. It’s our nature to be caring as well. If you don’t like it, so be it. I don’t need your approval anyways.”

“You go anywhere near that omega, you’re dead.”

“Try me!” Jeno snarled. “And stay away from her!”

“Jeno-”

The boy wasn’t gonna hear any more, slamming his fist on the table as he left the room, leaving Johnny alone with the others. All eyes were on Johnny, and there were many questions, but the one that was asked was unexpected.

“So… why can’t Jeno have an omega?” Yuta asked. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

“No shit.” Johnny snapped. “Hendery, call the shelter and tell them we’re temporarily housing an omega to avoid getting others sick.”

“No problem.”

“As for the rest of you, tell me what happened after I left.”

Jeno returned to his room, almost about to shout when he remembered he had a guest. He quietly approached the bed, happy to see you resting peacefully. He watched you for a moment before grabbing some of his things and making his way out of the room. You still needed a lot of rest. He also made a point to lock the door, that way no one could get in to bother you, especially Johnny. He noted the time and made a note to come back later to check on you.

🖤

You woke with a groan, reaching up to grab your head. There was this dizzy feeling, mixed with a bit of nausea. You cautiously sat up, starting to realize where you were. This wasn’t the back room of the club, but far worse. The room was unfamiliar, and you were laying on a rather comfortable bed. The smell of an alpha was very present. For the moment you were alone, and that made you feel uneasy. Wherever you were, you wanted to get out. You got up and made your way to the door, finding it locked, but the lock was on your side so you could open it and let yourself out.

You slowly peeked out into the hall, not really seeing anyone. That was good. You quietly stepped out of the room, picking a direction and walking. You just wanted to find a way out, but you weren’t gonna be so lucky. As you turned a corner you ran right into someone. You were still unsteady so you wound up on the floor, staring up at the giant man before you. It wasn’t long before the alpha scent hit you, and then you noticed the glare. He let out a low growl and you whimpered, pulling up your legs and trying to make yourself small.

“Sa… sorry… sorry… I-”

“Jeno! Come get your pet!”

You crawled back until you hit the wall, starting to have trouble breathing. You didn’t know who this Jeno was, but you were already getting an idea by the nickname. Soon enough you heard footsteps approaching, seeing another coming over. He looked at you, then glared at the other. He came to your side, reaching for you but you scrambled away. That didn’t stop him though and he pulled you into his arms, holding you still. Soon you realized he was an alpha too, yet his scent was a lot more calming, helping you relax.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, no one’s going to hurt you.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better.”

“What?” 

“I won’t be trouble, I-”

“You’re not trouble, not at all. You’re safe here, I promise.”

“Safe?” You wondered. “What does that mean?”

“It means no one is going to force you to do anything you don’t want to, and no one is going to hurt you again. The bad people who took you are gone now.”

“You… you didn’t buy me?”

“What? No, of course not.”

“Then… where… why…”

“My people raided that club.” The taller man explained. “Everyone was arrested and the rest of your friends were sent somewhere to get help, which is where you should be, but Jeno here decided to take you home instead.”

“She deserves to have a good home, and a better life.” Jeno spat back. “Let’s get you back to the room, you’re still burning up.”

Jeno helped you up, throwing another glare at the other and taking you back the way you came, back to the room you had woken up in. Now that you were more awake, and at ease, you began to remember what had happened to you. Back at the club you had fallen ill with a fever, basically being left to fend for yourself. Then you had vague recollections of someone carrying you in their arms, and feeding you. It dawned on you that it was Jeno.

“… thank you…”

“Hm?”

“I… I haven’t thanked you… for everything…”

“There’s no need for that.”

“Still… all you’ve done… you didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to.”

“… why…”

“Hm?”

“Why me? There were plenty of others… and way better-”

“Sh.” Jeno put a finger to your lips. “I knew everyone else could look after themselves, but you… I personally wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“But why me?”

“I don’t know… I just felt like I should look after you.”

“So then once I’m better… you’ll let me go?”

Jeno stopped, feeling his heart ache at those words. You had only just broken your fever, but you were already thinking about leaving. He didn’t want you to, but he also wanted you to be alright in the end.

“If you want to leave… you can… and we’ll take care of everything so you can do whatever you want too.”

“Whatever I want…”

“Yeah. Do you have any ideas?”

“Not really… I don’t even know where I would go… let alone what I would do…”

“Well, you can stay here until you figure that out. I know my pack is all alphas and betas, but no one is gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to, promise.”

“Thank you.”

You had some more food and were tucked back into bed to get some rest. The next time you woke up you really felt better. As you got up Jeno entered the room, asking you how were feeling and relieved to hear your condition improved. Since you were able to be on your feet he decided to give you a tour of the place. You had been staying in his room so he could look after you, but now you could have your own. You were also introduced to the rest of his pack, finally putting a name to the scary gentleman you had run into before. It was Johnny, the leader of this pack. Something about him sounded familiar but you weren’t quite sure what. You ignored it though, still getting glares from him. It was clear he didn’t like you, so it would be best to keep your distance.

This place was rather huge too, having its own kitchen and dining area, a spacious living room, multiple guest rooms, and even a huge indoor garage. It was like a mansion, but it didn’t really seem like a home. After the tour you settled into your own room, being cautious around the house. Everyone was rather friendly, except Johnny. He avoided you for the most part. Once you were better though you didn’t want to free load in this house. So you’d go around the place, helping wherever you can. On one occasion you ran into Hendery in the kitchen and offered to help him out. You learned to cook, and would set the table for meals. The others were grateful to you, but Johnny was still silent. It shouldn’t have been a problem, but it was upsetting you. Still, you tried to do right by him.

“Can I get you some more tea?”

You helped the others out in little ways, offering to do something for them. You tried with Johnny every now and then, but the result was always the same.

“I’m good.”

“Or maybe some water. I can-”

“I said I’m fine.”

There was a slight growl in Johnny’s tone and you immediately retreated. As you were making your way over to your room you ran into Jeno.

“Woah, woah, are you okay? You’re trembling.”

“Hm? Yeah, I’m fine…”

“I don’t believe you. What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine, I-”

“Y/n.”

“… I was just trying to be nice and Johnny…”

“What did he do?”

“Nothing, really…  he just didn’t want me to help and I got scared…”

“Scared?”

“He growled at me… just a bit… it’s nothing bad I swear!”

“Nothing bad? You’re trembling.”

“It’s not his fault… it’s just nature… he’s an alpha and I’m an omega…”

“That doesn’t give him, or anyone, the right to take advantage of you like that.”

“He didn’t do it on purpose…”

“Yet he’s been mean to you ever since you came here. I’ll talk to him.”

“Jeno, no, it’s fine.”

“It’s not. Come on, you need to relax.”

Jeno took you back to your room, bringing you some warm tea so you could calm your nerves. He didn’t leave your side until you were better, and then he went off to find Johnny. He knew you didn’t want to make a big deal out of this, but this was something that needed to be addressed. He wound up finding Johnny in his office, entering unannounced.

“What is your problem!?”

“I have many problems. I’m afraid you need to be more specific.” Johnny stated. “So try that question again.”

“Would it kill you to be a decent person to y/n?”

“What does it matter?”

“It matters because you growling at her scared her. She was trembling.”

“That was not my fault.”

“She’s an omega! She’s far more sensitive around alphas, and you’re being careless!”

“And she’s being a nuisance! She goes around the house offering help and-”

“Did you forget where she came from? All she knows is to serve others, especially alphas. She doesn’t want to feel like a burden and yet that’s exactly what you’re doing. If you ever want her to leave and do her own thing, you could start by making her feel like an actual person capable of living their own life.”

“…”

“Anything to say for yourself?”

Johnny sighed. “There’s been a lot going on lately… but I can spare some time to go shopping.”

“Shopping? What does-”

“A person needs to have their own things. She’s been in our guest room, but doesn’t really own anything herself. I’m sure she’d enjoy getting out of the house too.”

It was surprising to hear such a thing from Johnny, but Jeno knew it was a start. The next day everyone went out together, going to the mall. You were quite excited as you had never been shopping before. You wanted to go into every store and try things on, asking the others for their opinions. They all grabbed some things too, wanting to see what you would look like in them. The only one who wasn’t participating was obviously Johnny, he only paid for everything.

“Don’t worry about him.” Jisung told you. “This whole thing was his idea.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. He never takes us out shopping like this either, but it’s very fun.”

You glanced over at Johnny. You didn’t expect this to be his idea, but it made sense now. He didn’t seem like one to be here, but if it was his suggestion of course he’d be present. After some shopping you all got together to eat, but Johnny still kept his distance. You stepped away from the table for a moment, going over to Johnny.

“Excuse me…”

“Hm?”

“I… I wanted to thank you… for today… all the gifts-”

“You need to wear something besides the same outfits over and over. No need for thanks.”

“Thank you nonetheless.”

You were making your way over to the others when you accidentally bumped into a group of boys. You quickly apologized and tried to be on your way but they got in front of you, slowly surrounding you. It wasn’t long before you caught their scents, a few being alphas, and by now they were probably aware of your status too.

“This is a rare sight.” One said. “You don’t usually see an omega out on their own.”

“I… I’m not alone.”

“No? Then who are you here with, little wolf?”

You shyly peeked over behind them and pointed over to the table you had left a moment ago. The boys followed your gaze.

“Oh shit, is that the Suh pack?” One commented. “What are they doing here?”

“We’re shopping…”

“I didn’t know they had an omega join them.” Another added.

“I’m… I’m just a guest…”

“Ah, then perhaps you want to join our pack.” This gentleman took a bow. “Lee Taeyong, leader of the Lee pack.”

“Hello…”

The others introduced themselves as well, a total of six boys. They seemed nice, but being surrounded didn’t give off a good impression.

“I’m curious. How did an omega wind up a guest of the Suh pack? It’s not-”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You were suddenly yanked back and away from the others. You expected to see Jeno and the rest of the boys, but instead when you glanced back you saw Johnny. He was glaring at Taeyong, keeping his grip on your arm tight.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to intimidate an omega in such a manner.”

“We were doing no such thing.” Ten said. “We’re merely offering the little wolf a chance to join a real pack. Everyone loves a good omega.”

“She’s not looking for a pack.”

“Is that so? She said she was your guest, and nothing more.”

“She’s mistaken.” Johnny growled.

“You know, I heard you guys took down this club that was trafficking omegas.” Jaehyun mentioned. “I guess you kept one for yourself.”

“What does it matter to you?”

“Oh, did we hit a nerve? Nothing wrong with having an omega around, should just be careful.”

“Is that a threat, YangYang? Cause I don’t recall you ever being funny.”

“Let’s not cause trouble.”

Jeno pushed past the Lee pack as he spoke, the rest of the boys right behind him. They gathered at Johnny’s side, surrounding you and keeping you separate from the others.

“You should all be on your way now.” Jeno stated. “And behave yourselves.”

“Don’t you know it’s rude to intimidate an omega.” Jaemin teased. “The girl should speak for herself.”

“I’d like to leave.” You mumbled.

Without another word Johnny began to drag you away from the group. You looked back to see Jeno and the boys throwing glares at the others before following behind you and Johnny. When you came to the mall you were sitting in the back, but this time Johnny put you in the front passenger seat, putting your seatbelt on for you. He was completely silent and got into the driver’s seat. The rest of the boys made it over, a few getting in the back, and the others taking the second car. The whole drive back was in silence. When you arrived back at the house Johnny got out of the car first, clearly frustrated. The others got out but you glanced back at Jeno.

“Jeno… am I part of the pack?”

“Who said that?”

“Johnny.”

The door to your side opened and Johnny took off your seatbelt, pulling you out of the car. He didn’t let you go, starting to pull you along somewhere. You were too nervous to say anything and just followed, but Jeno didn’t like the scene. He quickly got out of the car and chased after you. He grabbed your hand and pulled you back, although Johnny didn’t let go. He merely glanced back and threw a glare at Jeno. You could feel the tension in the air and tried to make yourself as small as possible.

“Let go.” Johnny growled.

“No! You need to explain yourself! What was that back at the mall? And what’s this about y/n being in the pack!?”

“Am I in the pack…”

“Johnny-”

“I said let go!”

Johnny shoved Jeno back and then took you along to his office. Jeno glanced back at the others and shrugged his shoulders before storming after Johnny. He went into the office, seeing you seated and Johnny pacing around.

“Johnny what-”

“Strip.”

“Huh?”

“Not you.” Johnny glared at Jeno, then glanced at you. “Her.”

“Ma… me…?”

“I want those other scents off you!”

Johnny made his way to you, but Jeno quickly got in between the two of you, shoving Johnny back.

“What the hell is wrong with you! I thought you said she was annoying and-”

“Oh don’t start that shit with me! You’re the one who practically kidnapped an omega and brought her here! I had self control, unlike you, and then she wound up getting cornered by the Lee pack!”

“Johnny-”

“I told you to take your clothes off!” Johnny growled at you. “I don’t want you smelling like another wolf!”

You whimpered and started doing as you were told but Jeno was quick to stop you. He was telling you it was alright but got shoved away from you. Johnny ripped up your shirt, leaving you in your bra before placing his jacket around you and pulling you into his arms, scenting you.

“If I had known how things would end up I never would have taken you outside.”

Despite the fear and confusion you had been feeling, once you were in Johnny’s arms, breathing in his scent, you began to relax. You could tell he was sincere, and actually cared about you. This whole time you thought he didn’t like you, but it was quite the opposite. He was just holding himself back, but today pushed him over the edge. Jeno was still confused though, and didn’t exactly approve of this behavior. He shoved Johnny away and pulled you to your feet.

“You don’t get to act like you care all of a sudden just cause she got cornered by another pack!”

Before Johnny could say anything more Jeno rushed out of the office with you in tow, taking you to your room. You weren’t entirely sure what had just happened, so you just sat in bed while Jeno paced around.

“I… I should probably shower… right?”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Jeno went to start the shower for you, wanting to stay but knowing you needed your privacy. He stepped away, saying he would come by later, and told you to lock the door for now. You did as he said and showered, letting your clothes soak in the water as well, except for Johnny’ jacket. After you cleaned yourself up you laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. What lingered the most was Johnny saying you were part of the pack. You weren’t sure if that was true, or he had just been saying it, but the idea alone made you curious. You never thought you’d be in a pack, but you were starting to feel like maybe you did want it. 

This one wasn’t so bad, everyone was nice, minus Johnny. Then again, maybe he wasn’t all bad either. The outing today was his idea, and even if he didn’t socialize with you there did seem to be something going on. You glanced over at his jacket, figuring you should return it, and by now maybe he had calmed down. You made your way over back to the office, knocking on the door. It dawned on you that maybe he was elsewhere but when you heard him tell you to come in you knew otherwise. You took a breath to calm your nerves and went inside. Johnny was at his desk looking at the tablet in hand, not meeting your gaze.

“Uh… I just… just wanted to return your jacket…”

“You should keep it.”

“I… I don’t know what I would do with it…”

“Hm. You can leave it on the chair.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t forget to look over your things. If there’s anything you don’t want or something that you’re missing, just let me know. We can always go back.”

“Alright.”

“Y/n.”

“Yes?”

“I should apologize for earlier.” Johnny put down the tablet. “I was out of line and didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“Oh… I… I understand, you-”

“No. You can be upset with me. My behavior was far from appropriate, and I haven’t been the best person to you as of late. I will do better.”

“Okay… I’ll hold you to that…”

Johnny chuckled. “Good.”

“Uh… Johnny?”

“Yes?”

“Earlier… you said… I was mistaken in thinking I was your guest… so… am I part of your pack?”

“You choose your pack. So that question falls on you, if you want to be a part of this pack.”

“Oh…”

“You don’t have to answer now.”

“Okay…”

You excused yourself, a small smile on your face. You got your bags from the car and went to your room, going over everything and putting your things away. Over the last few days this place had slowly begun to feel like a home. You had your own room, and your own things. You honestly couldn’t see yourself leaving anytime soon, or at all. Especially with Johnny not being so cold to you anymore more.

“Jeno.”

“Hm?”

You had been wandering the house when you found Jeno in the garage, working on one of the cars. You decided to stick around and keep him company. He showed you a bit about how the car works and what he was working on.

“Johnny…”

“What did he do now?”

“Nothing. I just have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Back at the mall… why was he so… mean to the others…”

“Well, for starters, Johnny used to run with the Lee pack. He didn’t like the way they did things so he stepped away and made his own. There’s still some lingering bad blood between them. Then there’s the fact you’re an omega. Whether he cares to admit it or not, it’s hard not to be protective of you.”

“I know that. I wish I wasn’t such a burden.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“But I am trouble.”

“Not because you mean to be. No one holds you responsible or thinks you’re at fault.”

“I’ll try to behave.”

“You’re wonderful just the way you are.”

A moment later Jeno had to excuse himself to take a call, leaving you alone in the garage. You just looked around, not touching anything as you had no idea how to work any of the tools present. When you heard footsteps you thought Jeno had returned, but instead Johnny entered the room. He was looking for Jeno, but it was clear he wasn’t there. Since it was just you he felt a bit awkward, but offered you a smile.

“I don’t know where Jeno is…”

“That’s fine… how… how are you?”

“I’m good, just trying to find things to do.”

“Is there anything you want to try? I can get you anything you need.”

“I don’t really know what I want to do…”

“We can try things. I can get you art supplies, we can start a garden in the backyard, maybe you want to knit.”

“I… I think I’d rather do something useful.”

“You don’t have to do anything like that. It’s your life to do what you want with it.”

“But I don’t wanna seem like a burden here.”

“You’re not. You never have been. I know I haven’t been the nicest since you arrived, and I have a lot to make up for, but I never saw you as a burden.”

“You were pretty mean…”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m still not entirely sure my pack is what is best for you, but if you want to stay here, I won’t deny you that.”

“Is that why you were so cold… you didn’t want me to stay…”

“The things we do here aren’t exactly kind.”

“But you saved me, and the others as well… that was very kind…”

“I guess we try every now and then.”

“Uh… a garden… would be nice… I could grow some fruits and vegetables for everyone… if that’s alright…”

“Sure. We can go buy some plants and seeds tomorrow.”

You didn’t really know anything about gardening, but like you said, you didn’t want to be completely useless. Even if Johnny told you that you didn’t need to do anything to help them, you still wanted to. In a way it would also let you get close to them too. As promised the next day you went out with the pack to buy some plants, and other gardening tools. You spent the rest of the afternoon fixing up the backyard into a proper garden. It wasn’t until late into the night that you were watering everything and letting them settle into the soil. 

You were sleepy by then but you certainly needed to eat before bed. You had some food before heading to your room. Although you were very tired and stumbling down the hall. You wound up half sleeping against the wall when someone grabbed you. A soft chuckle escaped their lips and you could see a blurry figure of Johnny. He picked you up in his arms and carried you to your room. He got your shoes off and tucked you into bed, petting your head softly.

“Sweet dreams.”

🖤

Tending to the garden was your daily routine, and it meant you spent a lot of time outside. It wasn’t until then that you realized how much you liked the outdoors. For the most part you had always been kept inside and rarely saw the sun. It made you feel as if you were a flower yourself. Finally allowed out in the sunlight so you could grow properly and bloom. Johnny wasn’t distant either anymore, he’d always be checking in on you while you were in the garden and would help you where he could. Although the one who was always at your side was Jeno, making the two somewhat jealous of each other. You were just glad they didn’t fight over you.

“Guys! Look!”

You were so excited to show the boys your plants when the vegetables had become ripe for picking. Now of course it was a question of if they were good. You excitedly picked out what was ready and washed them in the kitchen, helping with the meal preparations and hoping for the best. You anxiously watched the others take the first bite, and seeing their happy reactions assured you that it was good. They all sang your praises and you were happy to provide them with some good food. It really made you feel like you belonged. Which meant it was probably about time you said something. Although you were very nervous about it.

You had to work up the courage a bit to go see Johnny. You were pacing around outside his office, trying to figure out what the right words to say were. You didn’t know much about how packs worked, let alone how you join one. While pacing Jeno found you, quite curious about your actions. He asked you what was going on but you fumbled your words over and over again. He placed his hands on your shoulder, telling you to breathe and take a moment to compose yourself. You thanked him for his help, figuring it was now or never. You knocked on Johnny’s door and then stepped into his office, Jeno right behind you.

“Hello, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I… I wanted to talk to you… about something.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“I… uh… I…”

“Take your time.”

“You… you said I wasn’t a guest… but a part of this pack… if that’s what I wanted…”

“Yes, and that still stands.”

“Well, I’ve made a decision.”

“And what would that be?”

“If… if you’ll have me… I’d like to be part of this pack.”

Johnny smiled. “Of course, we’d love to have you.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, glad this was out in the open, but still a little nervous. Johnny got up from his desk and came over to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m glad you want to stay with us.”

“Me too.” Jeno added. “The others will be happy to hear.”

You snuggled up against Johnny, feeling warm in his embrace. You could tell he was happy, as were you. His scent was also quite relaxing, giving you a sense of safety. This was probably what being in a pack felt like. As Johnny held you he took in your scent, leaning over to nuzzle your neck. There was something about you in the moment that was drawing him in. Maybe it was because he could finally call you his, or his alpha side was giving in to the fact you were an omega who hadn’t been claimed yet. Jeno seemed to notice his intentions.

“Johnny-”

“You can excuse yourself.”

Jeno chuckled. “I am not leaving you alone with y/n.”

“Then don’t get in the way.”

“Two is better than one.”

Jeno came up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders, giving you a gentle message. You let out a happy whine, looking back at Jeno who greeted you with a smile.

“How do you feel baby girl?”

“Happy…”

“Yeah? We can make you feel even better if you want.”

“Hm… that sounds nice…”

Johnny’s hands slid down your sides, tugging at your skirt until it fell to the ground, leaving you in your panties. He snatched you away from Jeno and had you sit on his desk, pressing a deep kiss against your lips.

“Let me know if you want me to stop.”

“Okay.”

Johnny smirked at you, getting you out of your shirt. He pressed kisses against your exposed skin while Jeno reached over to unhook your bra. Johnny helped you out of it and then his eyes looked down at your body, and you knew what he was staring at. You pressed your thighs together, definitely nervous about that.

“No one’s gonna hurt you.” Johnny assured. “If you want to stop, just say so.”

“I… I don’t want to…”

Johnny massaged your thighs, a grin on his face. You let out a soft whine, getting a chuckle out of the two of them. Jeno came over to your side, pressing kisses to your neck. His lips were warm and gentle, grabbing your attention. While you were distracted with that Johnny ran his fingers up and down your panties, making you squirm. He shushed you, telling you to behave. Without warning he slid your panties aside and touched your center. His cold fingers sent shivers down your spine. You had closed your eyes for a moment, and when you opened them you saw Johnny staring at you with lust.

“Johnny…”

“I won’t answer to that right now.”

“Alpha…”

“Good girl.”

Johnny leaned in close to press a kiss to your cheek as he pushed a finger into you. Immediately your eyes went wide and you grabbed Johnny’s hand. He didn’t budge though, merely tsking at you. Jeno’s hands creeped over yours and pulled them away, letting Johnny continue to finger you. The only noises that escaped your lips were whines and moans, your hips moving on their own. Johnny loved your reaction, adding another finger, and then another, stretching you out. This whole thing was a new feeling, something you had yet to do back at the club. You had always been so scared, but you felt safe here.

“Do you want me?” Johnny asked.

“Yes, alpha.”

Johnny kissed you deeply before pushing you back against the desk. You yelped as you were startled by his actions, Jeno pushed away. You stared up at Johnny, slightly out of breath. He kept eye contact with you as he unzipped his pants.

“Tell me at any point if I need to stop.”

“You can’t have her all to yourself.” Jeno growled.

“Fine.”

Johnny had you wrap your legs around his waist and then lifted you up, changing your positions. Now he was the one sitting on the desk, and you were sitting in his lap. You could feel something firm pushing up between your legs, making it difficult to sit still.

“Better?” Johnny questioned.

“I can work with this.” Jeno chuckled.

Jeno came up from behind, kissing you once more, then you began to feel something poking at your back. It wasn’t hard to guess what that was.

“Can you take both of us at once?” Jeno asked. “I think you can.”

“… both…”

“Trust us, we’ll go slow.”

Jeno grabbed your hips, lifting you up a bit so Johnny could get himself in place. You began to feel something pushing up into you, and Jeno slowly sat you down. You squirmed and whimpered, feeling yourself getting pushed open. It took a moment to get used to the feeling, leaning back against Jeno for support.

“Fuck baby.” Johnny groaned. “You’re real tight.”

“Sorry…”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

After a moment Johnny placed his hands on your hips, Jeno letting him take control. He began to help you move up and down, feeling him slide in and out of you. The way he stretched you out felt amazing, and then he began moving at a certain angle that sent wave after wave of pleasure. Your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as you bounced up and down. Jeno was sucking on your neck, leaving all kinds of marks on you, but he wanted his turn too. As you felt this heat building inside you Jeno suddenly put his hand on Johnny’s chest.

“Am I gonna join the fun?”

“I think she’s ready. Although she might cum from our combined size first.”

“That’s alright.”

Johnny laid back and pulled you down with him. Now you were so close to his face you felt a bit shy. Then you jumped when you felt some fingers down between your legs. You unintentionally moved, but Jeno placed a hand on your back.

“Behave.”

“Yes, alpha.”

You felt as Jeno fingered you while Johnny was still inside you, pushing you to your limits. At the moment you couldn’t even fathom what came next, but you didn’t have to wonder for long. You suddenly felt something hot and wet running along your ass. You glanced back to see Jeno holding his length. Before you could say anything Johnny pulled your attention and kissed you deeply. While you were distracted you felt Jeno pushing into you. Your breath caught in your throat, and Johnny held you still as Jeno rocked into you.

“Good girl, good girl, I told you that you could take us.”

“Fuck… so much…”

“I’m surprised you held back baby girl, but you’re gonna cum soon.”

“Wanna… wanna cum…”

“We know.”

You had a moment to adjust to the stretch before they started moving, gently, but it was still overwhelming. You swear something was gonna tear, but they were careful. You had your eyes shut tight, feeling everything and rocking your body back and forth. That heat from before had returned, and was rising, being felt across every inch of your body. It persisted until it overwhelmed you, making your vision go white as you began to shake uncontrollably. You laid in Johnny’s embrace, the two still moving and groaning as you squeezed them tightly.

You were in and out of consciousness, floating on cloud nine as you felt something warm between your legs. You whimpered and nuzzled against Johnny, just enjoying the moment. At some point you wound up on the floor on top of the two alphas, feeling warm and exhausted and overjoyed all at once. You felt someone softly petting you, wanting to say something but it all came out as incoherent mumbles, getting laughs out of the two of them. That was good enough for you, making you feel safe.

“So, we officially have an omega now.” Jeno stated.

“Isn’t that what you wanted from the start?”

“I guess I did. I just didn’t really know it.”

“They say when it comes to your pack, you just know.”

“Did you know?”

“Perhaps there was a reason I went into your room that day.”

“Hm, I guess it was meant to be.”

[gonelike-ach00]

Crowned Prince | Hendery

Prince! Hendery x Princess! Female Original Character

Author: gonelike_achoo

Genre: Romance, Drama, Arranged marriage, royalties

Word Count: 3,085

Warnings: war, violence, complex family relationships, pseudo incest (not main story, but be warned), sexual relationships

Preview: Where Hendery finds himself in an arranged marriage he can not runaway from- just as he has for everything else in his life. He has planned to runaway from the throne, but marrying the princess from the kingdom besided theirs served as his biggest hindrance.

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masterlist | next

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1: The Gathering of the Lands

Cunning, charming and the center of the night. 

That was how they would describe Moon Taeha’s bright red ball gown, in the middle of plainly colored clothings. She was the embodiment of elegance and grace, not one hair or lace out of place. There was no one better to be put center stage, but her. Just as it was when she entered the room, alone, strong and independent. There was no better place than walking through that door with her bright red dress and unlike all of her peers, greeting the people alone in one of the biggest events of the year.

The gathering of the lands was an annual ball hosted by the 5 royal families of the continent. These families rarely held balls, rarely threw parties and rarely had this amount of people roaming around their grounds, that was why this was such a prestigious ball. At this time of year, everyone who rarely walked these halls would take out their best dresses and flaunt it. Flaunting of wealth and fortune, that was all these balls were now. Long gone was its initial initiative to unite the kingdoms that sat beside one another. 

There was no one else who was enjoying this night of extravagance more than the lady at the center of attention. This was her forte, her battle grounds, she walked up to potential suitors, ladies from various lands to hear of rumors and stories that went around in their side of the kingdom. 

“Rumor has been going around, your highness,” Duchess Jung of the kingdom of Feliz lowers her voice and leans towards the princess. The duchess was merely 20, yet was carrying the child of the Duke, she was a few years younger than the still unwed princess. “Of how count Dong has been looking for a wife,” she talks of the famous good looking count from the kingdom of Hwei. 

“Is he?” Even the princess’s ears perk at the news. There weren’t a lot of good looking guys in the marriage market, thus it was an interesting thing to hear when men like them were set to look for a wife. Though, marriage was still off her plate.

“The count of Hwei and my husband have long been friends, since they were in the academy of Maha’ali.” 

“There is no source more trusted than your husband when it comes to that private count.” She nods her head as she turns to the side in order to call over a server to offer her some drinks. 

Taeha, as she was the epitome of elegance and grace, turns her head ever so slowly. Her head looks over, but stops as she spots a man quietly standing in the corner. 

If rarity in good looks were a thing among nobles, there was a group of siblings that do not fall under this category.  Aside from the royal siblings in Feliz, Hwei was known to be a hub for young handsome eligible bachelors. All born from pure noble bloods, there was no denying how powerful and important each of the men in Hwei was. The man she was looking at directly was the crowned prince of Hwei, born from the king and queen himself, he was royalty down to the tip of his toes. The crowned prince was known to be rather quiet, nearly out of the social life, rarely attending balls and showing himself to the noble crowd. Just as his striking white and blue attire stood in the corner, it was nearly impossible for heads not to turn towards him due to being such a rare sight in these events. 

“One glass of champagne,” she tells one of the servers, who was standing a few tables away from her. 

Just as her head turned towards the direction of the server. Talking among noble men were two more bachelors from the kingdom of Hwei. Standing tall among the crowd was the eldest of the bunch, who arrived late into the royal family. His was a face most popular with lines of women asking to be wed to him, it was a rather interesting sight to see that he was being pursued rather than the other way around. Standing right beside him was a man much softer in looks, but was a beauty nonetheless in comparison to his brother. He was known to have much more gentle features than the two of his brothers, as others would note that this may come from his mother rather than his father. Just as the eldest was a late addition to the royal family and so was the youngest, born into a different kingdom and raised in one, his birth and addition to the royal family in Hwei was still a political topic that the leaders of Hwei and Feliz avoided.

Taeha could simply sigh. Though they were the most eligible bachelors in the continent, they were also shrouded with rumors, some as shocking as soon as it reached her ears, while others were claims that were obviously false. 

There was a reason why they remained unwed even at the age of marriage especially for a royal family.

Soon enough the hired musicians began playing their piece, and it was there that everyone understood what was about to happen, or heard and read of it from stories of the past. In other normal balls or events, there was no need for a center stage or a huge expensive band and singer, but every once in a while the gathering of the lands was used as a stage to announce engagements among the five kingdoms. It was rare, as it was often practiced that kingdoms do not engage or marry into one another, yet in the rare case that they do it is indicated by a single song playing and able to silence the crowd to a near silence. It was easily a recognizable tune, with the beginning strong and mighty commanding everyone to turn their heads to the center. 

Just as it was often practiced, from books that she’s read about the event the two leaders would stand in the middle and announce the engagement, before calling over the two who are now engaged and allow them to dance. In history, this has only been successful twice but was attempted several times. 

So, it didn’t come as a surprise when the first king that walked into the center was the king of Hwei, though much elder everyone could tell where his sons got their looks from. His nose bridge was tall and features truly masculine, it was impossible not to call such a man in his late years good looking. Standing in the center with the same blue and white colors as his sons, but in an outfit much grandiose than all of his sons’ combined. He was easily the center of attention. He begins with greetings, just as every leader does, as a way to establish his presence.

“Thus, tonight I would like to call on one of my sons to dance in the center.” Almost immediately his eyes moved towards the son that was quietly standing at the back, obviously baffled by the sudden call on him, though his name was still to be uttered by his mouth. “Thus, I would like to call on the crowned prince of Hwei, Huang Guanheng!” The sound of clapping immediately follows. If it weren’t for the huge clapping sound echoing through the ball room, Guanheng wouldn’t have stood upright from leaning against the wall.

She watched as it took him a moment to come to his senses and begin gently bowing his head in confidence as he walked towards the center. Whispers couldn’t help but follow as he walked to the center stage. Among nobles Guanheng wasn’t perceived as the perfect ruler, some say he was too soft spoken to take charge, or that he wasn’t communicating with others enough. He didn’t try to get along with nobles and it was very clear that he wasn’t even in the slightest bit interested. He was the crowned prince, but no one truly acknowledged him as the next king of Hwei.

Once he got to the center, it was clear that even with rumors circulating about him, he stood tall. Nearly as if standing at the center stage was a different man from the person leaning against the wall of the ballroom just earlier. Though eyes were on the crowned prince of Hwei, eyes were darting between the four other kings. Anticipating who would walk towards the center stage next.

In all honesty, it wasn’t looking too good for her as well.

With a number of royal princesses already married off as soon as they were able to marry, there were only three who could be married with the prince. Aside from herself, there were two more from the kingdom of Feliz. This might be the reason behind the rarity of marrying between kingdoms, the absolute lack of pairs that could be paired.

Just as she was feeling all uneasy, the moment the red cape walked to the center, she knew that the inevitable was about to happen, that it would be her who would be called out next.  They have five siblings in total, their eldest has long been married to a count, she was thirty and five years. The following was another lady, thirty years of age, just as their eldest, married. Then followed by their only brother, the crowned prince of the kingdom of Sui, he was twenty and seven, just as it was with the two eldest, married and with children. That was also the case with the other princess that followed. All that was left was her, she was twenty and three, by  this age all her sisters were either pregnant with their second child or caring for their children. 

It wasn’t like she was of no beauty either, she’s had suitors and has been engaged a number of times, yet not one lasted longer than a month. It was quite obvious what she had been trying to get across as soon as she turned eighteen, that marriage was the least of her concerns. This was probably her parents' way of forcing her to marry, as her bethronement was now much weightier than any other engagements she has had in the past. 

“I am glad to welcome everyone tonight, as this remains a sign of cooperation between the kingdom, each and every nobleman present tonight would stand witness as another feat for peace would be settled with the tying of our two royal children.” King Taemu, the king of Sui, smiles at the crowd and turns his head towards the crowned prince standing just as tall as he was. “Thus, I shall call my youngest daughter to the front,” Taeha feels her heart drop at the moment, “Princess Moon Taeha!” As if her name was a cursed word, she flinches.

The moment she looked up at her father, triumph was written all over his face. She then quickly scans the crowd as eyes watch her every move, just as they did with the crowned prince of Hwei earlier. However, she doesn’t want to repeat the same mistakes that he did, instead of appearing more flustered she takes a deep breath in, even as her hands were shaking she grabs her dress to slightly lift it and walk to the center.

She stood right beside her father and beside the crowned prince, who appeared to be much taller than he looks. With her head held up high and her hands trembling, she couldn’t help but glare at her father every chance she got. Though it was unladylike of her, she would rather glare at him now than she dances with her now fiance. 

“We hope to invite everyone present tonight in two months in the kingdom of Hwei to celebrate the union of the princess of Sui and the next heir of Hwei!” Immediately the ballroom erupts in cheers and joys from the news, this was probably the first– and most likely the last– in their generation where two great kingdoms were to marry.

“My beloved youngest daughter, princess Taeha and my future son-in-law, prince Guanheng, the two of you may start the dance tonight.” As it was tradition for the now engaged couple to dance together first, as a spectacle, a show, a political tool. Tonight, once her hands were placed on top of his shoulders it would mean that escaping this marriage would be nearly impossible. 

Thus, when a hand was offered in front of her and the room erupts in murmurs, she knew that there was no way she could think of a way out of this at this moment. Thus, she did what every lady would do when offered with a dance she couldn’t refuse, she turned around and bowed towards her father and then to the king before facing the hand held up towards her. Then she bowed towards him. 

“I believe, your fathers would leave the two of you to enjoy the stage.” The King of Hwei gives them a mischievous smile. 

Without uttering another word, the crowned prince acknowledges his father with a simple nod of his head. “Then shall we proceed, princess?” The way he called her ‘princess’ felt like he was mocking her. Instead of uttering a word towards the prince who, just as she was, appears to hate every moment this set up gave them, she simply accepts the hand that was held out for a little too long. She forces a smile on her face, but as everyone in this hall has seen her with the same smile earlier, no one could tell that she was annoyed beyond her wits. That is except for the man guiding her down to the center of the dancing area. 

They stood there, unsure of what song and routine they would be dancing to. At that moment, Taeha stood upright, just as the crown prince was, and they were finally looking each other in the eye. Indeed, rumors cannot be made up about how good looking the next heir of Hwei looked. His eyes were big and his features strong, he kept himself clean and he, just as she took a whiff earlier, smelled just as clean. She’s seen images on painting, but they could not compare to his beauty.

Taeha simply takes a deep breath, in order to calm herself down and stop her from complimenting the prince further. It wasn’t long after that the music began playing. In an instant the two well trained royals knew how the dance would go.

With a hand on his shoulders and his hand on her waist, they take steps in tune to the music. The dance originates from the kingdom of Maha’ali, known to be a romantic dance meant for couples to get to know each other as they move. It was slow, and kept them close, but not too close, just enough to converse without anyone other than them to hear their conversation. Intimate enough for only two, but leaves enough space for the dance not to turn awkward. 

“Indeed,” she mutters as she takes a step, “they’ve talked about this engagement long before.” 

“Is it because of the choice of music?” The prince is close enough to hear her mutters.

“The piece is no simple feat to learn, your highness. As my knowledge suffices, there is no band in the land that knows how to play this tune.” They do a simple turn, and take a step away from each other.

Yet the distance was closed in a mere second. “And how would you,” his eyes scan the band playing in the corner, “know of that, princess?” The way he calls her princess feels like he was swearing at her.

“Noble women always want the most absurd, your highness.” She glances over his shoulders when given the opportunity. She would be an absolute rock if she never noticed the envious dagger like stares towards her.

“You speak as if you aren’t noble yourself.” 

“I believe the absurdity of society needs to be called out.” 

“Indeed,” Guanheng simply nods his head.

Then the two begin dancing just as they were taught, with absolute precision and grace. If anyone was in their right mind, they would understand that they were nothing compared to the royal family. Sure they could send envious stares towards the princess, but the famously beautiful and graceful princess suited the crowned prince more than anyone else in this room. It was uncommon for two royal families to marry into one another, but much rare was the marriage of two people of the same age. 

“Appears the good looking crown prince has some admirers,” she decides to break the ice further by commenting on the stares she’s been getting since they’ve begun to dance.

“Are they admirers of me or are they admirers of my title?” He smiles at her, but one that was obviously forced upon.

Taeha sighs. “Well, not a lot of those women would be married to men the same age, and fewer would be able to marry a crowned prince.” 

“Indeed,” he replies the same as he did earlier, as if he wanted to say more but was holding himself back. 

Then they danced once again in silence. Taking steps they’ve memorized and practiced for as long as they could walk. Holding themselves up in a way that people would describe elegance and grace. 

“Does it not occur to you, princess,” this time him calling her out was much softer, “that your father simply repressed the bands from playing this difficult tune from Maha’ali for your engagement?” 

“Do you think my father is as obsessive as that?” 

“Not yours,” he pauses, “mine.” His eyes slightly grew a bit at that moment. “He can be a little… overbearing as a father.” 

“Ah,” was the princess’s reply as they took one last turn on the dance floor. Once she takes a step back to bow towards him once more, she takes notice of how every single pair of eyes were looking at them– not just her.

“Knowing my father, it won’t be long until we meet again, princess.” Guanheng takes her hand and leaves a light peck on it, it was a universal sign between them that he was bidding his farewell to the lady.

When Guanheng bid her his farewell, she didn’t expect things to roll out as quickly as they did.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

masterlist | next

[sadcoffeecritic]

uhhh something got bbqued but it wasn’t the the beef😭😭😭😭

watch me burn | w.kh

old habits die hard and who are you to deny that fact? as a young adult full of tricks up your sleeve, you are faced with a life full of opportunities many would kill for, but there is only one thing you want to do: burn.

PAIRING: drug dealer!wong kunhang x waitress!fem!reader

CHARACTERS: ft. nct, clc, and red velvet members

GENRE&AU(S): very light fluff, angst, friends to lovers, slow burn, family extermination, dystopian!au, simulation!au, sci-fi!au, waitress!au, drug dealer!au

WARNINGS: language, use of drugs and alcohol, Y/N runs into some men in a dark alley, sexual harassment, implied sex trafficking(?), minor and major character death, murder/manslaugher, accidental arson (twice), betrayal, running away, sexual innuendos(?), sexual fantasies (but no actual smut), mentions of vomit, mentions of kidnapping, nudity, Y/N gets stripped down, mentions of torture (not descriptive), disassociation, Y/N hits her head, mentions of wanting to die/suicide, guilt, self-blaming, near death, death, blood, body mutilation, Y/N gets shot with a tranquilizer, depictions of a burned body, please tread lightly if any of these topics are triggering to you, and let me know if i missed anything!

LENGTH: 21.5k (oops…)

AUTHOR’S NOTE:      this is my part for @127-mile​‘s stuck in the simulation collab. i’m very excited to finally share this piece, so i really hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it. as stated in the warnings, please tread lightly if the warnings are triggering to you. this is on the darker side. as always, please let me know if you enjoyed it! feedback is very much appreciated <3

TAG LIST:      @127-mile​ @neowritingsnet​ @carat-per-cubic​ @90sgatsby-jjh​ 

Eunbin blew out a puff of smoke into the night air. She looked bored as she watched the smoke disappear, and kicked her legs over the side a little more. Her brown hair was pushed back behind her ears, and her black sweatshirt sat comfortably on her shoulders. She looked at peace.

You leaned back on your hand, mimicking the way her legs moved, and stared up at the moon. It had been full for days now, and you wondered if something was wrong with the rotation of planet Earth, but gravity still worked the same, so you guessed it was okay.

Keep reading

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 22.0k ➠ warnings: cursing, mentions of drinking (there’s a frat party), everything i know about hockey is from internet research for this fic i’m sorry for any inaccuracies i tried ➠ genre: fluff, gets quite suggestive (a heavy makeout scene/near sex scene) but no actual smut, college au, hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), halloween-themed at the beginning, sungchan’s not a frat boy but he’s like... a frat boy by association ➠ extra info: the ages/relative ages of the members in here are whatever i want them to be, don’t read into it too much. this is a very usamerican take on a college au btw. also i call kunhang ‘hendery’ in here like it’s his government name for a one-line gag bc i think i’m hilarious the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines and thoughts/experiences as a chronically ill person are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines and chronic illness, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds ➠ author’s note: hi so this has been a wip for like a year lol. this one long predates sungchan’s deneofication (and subsequent re-debut in riize), hockey player sungchan just lives in my brain rent free ok. anyway, i hope you like ➠ series masterlist

“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 24

“Now shoo!” Dr. Son waved the small group of you out of his dimly lit office.

It was Phantasmagorical Phriday, a time-honored tradition going back to your freshman year of university. Dr. Son had been intrigued by the four freshmen who were somehow in his third-year class on Gothic Fiction and actually seemed to “get it.” His “Phantasma Phour” as you dubbed yourselves (a nickname that got quickly worn out, persisting only as the title of your groupchat):

Wong Hendery, who ended up in the class accidentally due to an error on his academic advisor’s part (she had gotten him mixed up with a Wong Henry, a junior Literature major who actually needed to take Dr. Son’s class) and he subsequently changed majors at least three times to your knowledge, so you were genuinely surprised he was graduating on time—he finally settled on Communications;

Jung Sungchan, at the time a promising young rookie hockey player who had now blossomed into your school’s reliable team captain—Biology major, being an athlete meant he could pre-register for classes and he picked Dr. Son’s at random to fulfill a gen ed Literature credit;

Zhong Chenle, an honorary member of both Nu Chi Tau, one of the biggest frats on campus, and the hockey team, as somehow 95% of his social circle were Nu Chi brothers and/or hockey players despite Chenle being neither himself, your best friend and also sometimes you swear a demon sent straight from hell to kill you—Literature major, who bullied you into taking the class; and

You, Chenle’s best friend who used to hate anything and everything Gothic fiction that got bullied into taking it anyway and now adored the genre more than any other—Literature major, who took the last spot in the class on registration day.

Dr. Son would invite you all to monthly extracurricular workshops in his office that built up to this: Phantasmagorical Phriday, a writing competition to see which of the four of you could write the best gothic short story. The stories were actually submitted the prior week, but it was the Friday before Halloween that was dubbed the Phriday in question. The four of you were invited to his office that night after classes (and Sungchan’s hockey practice) to review your pieces: how he thought everyone had improved from last year, discuss the writing process, and to finish off the night, Dr. Son would announce his top two stories. Those in the top two had the chance to send him a persuasive letter about why they should win. They had to be sent to him that night because the next morning, your professor would email the top two individually with the results.

Since this was your last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Dr. Son pretended not to see when Hendery brought out four celebratory White Claws for you all. You still had your warm, unopened, orange-flavored seltzer in your hand as the small group of you left the Literature, Writing, and Foreign Languages building together.

“I still can’t believe you couldn’t find anything classier for our last Phantasmagorical Phriday, Hendery.” You shook your head. “Ever heard of champagne? Literally any wine?”

“So you’re not gonna shotgun that, Y/N, is what I’m hearing?” Hendery teased as you all stopped under the light post right outside the building.

“Is that a challenge or what, Wong?” You scoffed, handing it back to him. “But no, I’m good.”

Sungchan thankfully cut in and changed the topic of conversation, “So are you going to start writing your letter of reconsideration, Y/N?”

This year’s top two were you and Sungchan, the member of the Phantasma Phour you spoke to the least. Outside of the monthly “workshops” (which at this point with your differing majors were just get-togethers of questionable academic value), you never saw him. You obviously saw Chenle all the time, and despite the fact that you considered him a bit obnoxious, you were sort of friends with Hendery, joining him for lunch if you happened to see him at the student union or at the coffee shop on campus. Sungchan was perfectly nice and all, you just found that you never really talked to him like the other two.

You looked down at your watch, taking a quick inhale when you saw the time. You’d stayed in Dr. Son’s office a lot later than you’d realized.

“Oh, no,” you casually waved off Sungchan’s question, readjusting your tote bag on your shoulder. “I’ve got something more pressing right now. Anyway, see you guys. It was a good four years, I’m glad we got to do this.”

Lifting your hand in a wave of finality to the three men, you departed.

“She’s really not going to submit a letter?” Sungchan asked, still watching after you as your figure faded away in the distance.

“Nope,” Chenle shook his head, reaching for the spare White Claw in Hendery’s hand. “Y/N never does.”

“You didn’t know that?” Hendery questioned the hockey player, holding the drink away from Chenle.

“Why not?”

“She’s not in it to win really.” Chenle lunged for the can as Hendery jerked it away at the last second. “Just wants to make stuff.”

“So she was lying about doing something?”

Hendery and Chenle were now running circles around Sungchan in their game of keep-away with the seltzer.

“No.”

“What do you—” Sungchan sighed, yanking the drink from Hendery’s grasp and holding it high above his own head, well out of either of their reaches. “Hey!”

Now with their attention, the hockey captain kept his arm straight up as he returned to his question, “What are you talking about, Chenle?”

“Y/N does have something pressing right now. If I tell you where she’s probably going will you give me the White Claw?” Chenle bargained.

“You’d exchange your best friend’s location for an orange White Claw? Not even watermelon?” Hendery asked incredulously.

“It’s Sungchan, someone we’ve known for like four years, not some creep off the street who’s going to wear her skin.”

“No, Chenle, you don’t have to tell me that,” Sungchan shook his head, offering the can out for either one to take.

The Literature major was able to snatch it first, jumping up in celebration, “Suck an egg, Hendery!”

“I wouldn’t—” Sungchan’s words were too late though, as Chenle had already popped the tab, and the overly-shaken seltzer exploded all over all three of them.

“Zhong Chenle, I’m going to strangle you, you little weasel!”

“Ah! Sungchan, save me!”

“I would, except you got fucking orange White Claw in my eyes and I’m fucking blind now! Goddamn!”

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 25

Rolling over in bed the next morning, you let out a big sigh and buried your face in your pillow, fully intent on going back to sleep. Saturday morning. No school, no work. Just you, your bed, and some much-needed sleep.

Then, the obnoxious blaring of your phone came from your nightstand. You groaned, reaching blindly for the object, and barely opening one eye just enough to snooze it. Damn, you really had slept in, to be woken up by your first medication alarm. Well, you weren’t going to die if you took your morning doses fifteen minutes later than normal. You were about to stuff your phone under your pillow when you briefly caught sight of your lockscreen after the alarm disappeared.

Text notification from Jung Sungchan?

Flopping onto your back and bringing your phone with you, you squinted against the harsh light of your screen to make sure you were reading that right. Yep, Sungchan had definitely texted you a few hours ago, separate from the Phantasma Phour chat. At almost 7:00 a.m., too. What the hell?

Curiosity won out over a need to sleep for fourteen more minutes, and you opened the notification.

[jung sungchan: Congrats, Y/N!]

You stared blankly at the text, your groggy mind desperately grasping around for any sort of context as to why Jung Sungchan would be texting you that at 7:00 a.m. on a Saturday. Then it struck you like lightning, and you let out an audible “Oh, duh!” as you remembered where you both were last night. Phantasmagorical Phriday. The writing contest. You and Sungchan were the top two. Dr. Son must have sent the email out already, and apparently you had won.

Normally, you wouldn’t check your school email on the weekend until Sunday night, unless you were waiting to hear back from a specific professor—and the Sunday night check was just to see if any of your Monday classes were cancelled. Lord knows you definitely wouldn’t have checked it at seven in the morning on a Saturday. You let out a snort of disbelief as you reread the timestamp on the text. But still, it was nice of him. A good show of sportsmanship, as one would expect from the hockey captain.

You quickly checked your own student email, and did in fact see an email from Dr. Son at the very top with the subject ‘PHINAL PHANTASMAGORICAL PHRIDAY RESULTS.’

‘Y/N and Sungchan:

Thank you again for your submissions. I enjoyed working with everyone these four years.

The winner this year is Y/N. Good job.

Dr. Son.’

An amused smile crept across your face at your professor’s usual blunt email style. But this was also some of the nicest feedback he’d given your writing, even when you had won Phantasmagorical Phriday in the past, or in classes that you’d taken from him over the years. Something about it truly did feel... final.

And so with an odd bittersweetness, you drafted an equally short and blunt email back to your professor.

‘Dr. Son:

Thank you for taking us on these past four years. I will never forget the experience.

Y/L/N Y/N.’

Then finally, you went back to the original reason that you were even doing this.

[you: thanks, sungchan!]

Then, your alarm went off again, making you jump out of your skin. Well, time for your morning meds.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 27

A tall figure was nearing the corner table you had claimed in one of the campus coffee shops the following Monday afternoon, and you looked up from your laptop screen, a little surprised at who it was. Jung Sungchan was standing at the end of your table, black flannel over a graphic t-shirt and dark wash jeans, one backpack strap slung over his shoulder. He had an iced coffee in one hand.

You paused the movie playing on your laptop, taking out both your headphones as you looked up at him inquisitively, “Uh hi, Sungchan.”

“Hi, Y/N.”

“Are you here to study or something?”

“Mm.” He couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “Not really. Just grabbing a coffee and saw you. Do you mind if I sit with you for a bit?”

“Oh, sure. I’m waiting out the storm to leave,” you gestured to the near-constant downpour that had started right after you’d arrived over two hours ago. Noticing that some of Sungchan’s hair and shoulders were damp, you added, “The storm you apparently got caught in without an umbrella.”

“Oh, yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair to push some of it away from where it had been falling into his eyes.

“I don’t mind having some company while I wait.”

To your surprise, instead of sitting across from you, Sungchan plopped himself onto the same bench that you were on, one leg slung over either side so he could face you directly.

You picked up the mug in front of you, your second cup of your drink of choice. You’d gotten a refill after it became clear that the rain wasn’t letting up any time soon. Sungchan was already a third of the way done with his iced coffee as you blew over your hot drink before taking a small sip. He glanced up at you, and you felt like you were going to choke on the uncomfortable silence. So you took a gamble. Turning in your seat to face him as well, you hiked a knee up onto the bench, bringing your mug with you.

“Do you want to ask me something, Sungchan?”

The hockey player startled, having to catch himself from nearly choking on his coffee. Seems like you were right. Sungchan finally stopped sucking down his drink, setting it down on the table and wiping his palms on the knees of his jeans. “I heard that you never sent in a letter to Dr. Son. Any year you were a top two.”

“Oh, yeah, nah.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t seem worth it,” you shrugged.

“What?”

“Every year I participated I wanted my work to stand on its own two legs. After the death of the author, that’s all that’s left, right? The work. It has to speak for itself.”

“Oh,” Sungchan nodded, then squinted his eyes, confusion entirely overtaking his features. “Wait, what?”

“Sorry, I don’t know how much Lit Theory you’ve done. Probably not a lot as a Bio major, huh? Death of the author is both literal and metaphorical. Removing what the author meant to do or say with a text from how you actually interpret the text as the reader. It’s a lot easier when they’re actually dead, but the abstract concept is practiced when they’re alive too. It’s… seeing the text as separate from authorial intent. Mind you, it’s only one tool in a literary critic’s arsenal, but I liked it for our Gothic fiction class. All the authors we read in that class, they’d been gone for a while, we had no way to know what they really meant when they wrote all that stuff. And it didn’t really matter for our purposes. All we did have was what they wrote, and that was enough for me. So the same should be enough for whoever reads the stuff I write. Even if it’s just Dr. Son.”

“Huh.”

“Though I guess I just explained myself a little, oops,” you laughed at yourself, taking another sip from your steaming mug. “I’m getting less and less mysterious by the second, aren't I?”

“Chenle made it sound like you didn’t care about winning,” Sungchan asked, cheek in hand.

You arched an eyebrow at this. “You asked Chenle about me?”

“W-Well you left so fast after we saw Dr. Son, and you two are you know...”

“Oh he’s my best friend,” you clarified for perhaps the ten-thousandth time in your life. “And while others may use any litany of swears for him and Hendery calls him a little weasel, I prefer ‘actual demon sent from Hell to kill me.’”

“What?” Sungchan’s eyes widened.

“He pushes me out of my comfort zone. In a good way, most of the time.”

“Got it. Then what do you do for him? If he’s your yang…”

“I’m entertainment?” You snorted, taking another sip of your drink. After setting it back down, you answered more sincerely, “I’m kidding. Sometimes it feels like that but I did ask him one time a couple years ago, when he was tipsy enough that I believed the words coming out of his mouth but not so drunk that it was unintelligible. ‘A safe place.’ And since then… I can see it in us. That’s my yin to him.”

He smiled softly at you. “That’s... really nice.”

“Sorry, what were you asking me before that?”

“Oh, uh— Chenle said you really didn’t care about winning Dr. Son’s contest, you just wanted to make stuff? That’s why you didn’t submit a letter.”

“Generally, sure. Winning would’ve been great, but I didn’t write what I thought Dr. Son wanted. I took all of his feedback with a grain of salt. Took stuff that I liked from him, took stuff I liked from other profs I had. Mixed and matched to make something that was mine.” You pressed your lips together, then leaned forward like you were about to tell him a secret, “I didn’t live for Phantasmagorical Phriday, Sungchan. You do know that, right?”

“Wow,” he blinked, seeming a bit disoriented. “I’ve never really thought about… you like that.”

“Well to be fair to you, you only ever knew me there and in Dr. Son’s class. Makes it hard not to think of me only through that lens. All you know about me is that I presumably like Gothic fiction and I’m a Lit major, right?”

“Right.”

“So what do you think I was doing here before you showed up?”

“…Reading Edgar Allan Poe.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, turning your laptop screen to show the paused movie to him, “I was watching Pacific Rim.”

His jaw literally dropped, and you felt the need to save him at least a little. Grabbing a book from your bag, you held it up, “I did come here initially to finish reading this new mystery novel I just got, but then the storm came and I had nothing else to do after I was done with the book.”

“But still… you’re so…”

“I have interests outside the one class we took together?”

“Smart,” he finished, an absolutely adorable expression of wonder across his face.

You weren’t expecting that, surprised giggles bubbling up out of you as you felt yourself growing warm under his awestruck gaze.

“Anyway, your turn,” you tapped his knee with your book before putting it back in your bag.

“For what?”

“To expand my horizons of you. All I know about you is that you’re the hockey captain, and a Bio major who took a gothic fiction class one time like three years ago. Show me you’re a multifaceted individual, too.”

“Uhm, that’s about it.”

“Oh come on, Sungchan.”

“No really, if I’m not on the ice, I’m in class; if I’m not in class, I’m with my team; and if I’m not with my team, I’m studying.”

“You’re here, right now,” you pointed out. “Last I checked I’m not on your hockey team, and we’re not studying. You have to do one thing that’s not for school or hockey. My thing was just watching Pacific Rim this one time, remember?”

“Alright…” he paused to think, fingers tapping along his thighs. “I used to play the piano.”

“Past tense, but I’ll accept it. When did you stop?”

“High school? Around when piano lessons and hockey practice started conflicting.”

“And you chose hockey?” You asked, hoping it didn’t sound judgmental. You really were just curious, trying to understand him.

“Actually, the choice was made for me.” He held his right hand out in front of you, and it was then that you saw his pinky finger was unnaturally crooked as he pointed to the digit. “I broke it in a game without even realizing it. Bruises and stiffness sometimes are normal so me and my parents didn’t know anything was up until weeks later when I was fucking up all the notes at my piano lessons because it still hurt. By the time I finally saw a doctor and got a splint on it, it set up wrong. All dexterity for piano out the window. Hockey on the other hand… guys have done a lot more with a lot less.”

You couldn’t help but curiously run a gentle fingertip over the crook in his pinky. “Does it hurt at all? Now?”

“Not really.” He went to bend and flex the fingers of his right hand, and you saw how the fifth finger didn’t curl up as much as the others. “It’s just a lot stiffer. Doesn’t bother me all that much.”

He brought his left hand up and wiggled the fingers on that hand. “Besides, I’m a lefty anyway.”

“So—apologies if this sounds like a stupid question to you, I don’t know anything about hockey—are there like, different hockey sticks for left-handed and right-handed players?”

Sungchan immediately broke into snickers, and you set down your mug to cross your arms over your chest indignantly.

“Hey, I didn’t laugh at you for not knowing what death of the author was—”

“I wasn’t making fun of you, I’m sorry,” he covered his mouth. “That was just… too cute. Uhm yes, there are lefty and righty sticks.”

You had to bite down your bottom lip to not smile at him calling you cute, and instead keep up your ruse of being offended. “I feel patronized.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” There was still a hint of a giggle in his tone, and you felt your self-righteous façade slip away as he continued, “You should come to a game, then, if you really want to broaden your horizons. The season just started. First home game is this Thursday, actually. 7:00 p.m. and students get free admission with your student ID.”

“Thursday?”

“Fridays are for basketball, Saturdays are for football.”

“Oh. Right.”

“You don’t go to those games either, do you?”

“Oh no, did I make it obvious?” You asked sarcastically.

“A bit,” Sungchan jested back.

Outside the window visible past Sungchan, the rain had let up a few minutes ago, and you briefly glanced over at your laptop for the time. Shit, your next alarm was going to be going off soon. If you left now, you should be home at roughly the right time for your next dose.

Clicking your tongue, you started packing up your things, “Well, looks like the rain’s finally let up enough to allow me safe passage. That’s my cue.”

“Oh.” The hockey player with you looked over his shoulder at the newly sunny day outside before turning back to watch you put your things away.

“Are you heading out too?” You nodded to his empty cup.

“I’ve uh, got some homework to do.”

“Guess this is where we part ways then.”

“Um, you didn’t say if you were going. To the game.”

You tucked your chin to your chest to hide your smitten smile as you put your laptop in your bag. Typically just asking for the details would’ve been taken for a yes, but Sungchan wanted extra confirmation. This boy wasn’t good for your heart, truly.

Turning back to him, you gave him a firm and nearly business-like nod. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

A bright grin lit up his features. “Okay! Great! Uhm, feel free to bring some friends, I know just sitting in the stands by yourself might be lonely.”

“I’ll see if I can drag somebody else out. It’ll be a tall order, though. Literature majors, you know, we prefer our Shakesperean poetry readings.”

“Oh, well—”

“I’m kidding,” you laughed and stood then, slinging your tote onto your shoulder. “Honestly, have you seen Chenle at a rager? Boy can drink twice his body weight I swear. He shouldn’t, but he can.”

Before you could reach for your cup and saucer to buss your place, the hockey captain spoke up, “I’ll take care of your mug, don’t worry.”

“Oh, thanks, Sungchan! I’ll see you Thursday then.”

“Bye…” Sungchan trailed off, watching the door long after it had closed behind you.

He didn’t actually have any homework to do, and scrolled on his phone for a few minutes to make sure you were out of the area before leaving himself. He grabbed his long-empty plastic cup and your mug. His went in the trash, and as he went to put yours up with the other dishes and trays, his eyes were caught by the iridescent glitters left behind on the rim by your lip gloss.

[you: hey what are you doing thursday at 7:00?]

[chenle: depends on what weird poetry reading you’re trying to drag me to]

[you: not this time. Sungchan’s hockey game?]

[chenle: you want to go to a sporting event?? why????]

[you: i told him i’d go please don’t make me go by myself]

[chenle: did you offer to go or did he ask you to come?]

[you: he asked me to? i guess?]

[chenle: haha yeah fuck no i’m not going with you]

[you: why not????????]

[chenle: a guy invited you to one of his games? yeah no way am i coming with you]

[you: what difference does that make? you’re seriously going to make me go to a hockey game by myself?]

[chenle: i don’t know how to tell you this gently so: he wants to fuck you]

[you: bro???]

[chenle: especially hockey? caveman brain is activated, he wants to show off how big and strong he is for you over the other males]

[you: damn can’t believe i just blinked and woke up in 200 BC]

[chenle: i’m warning you, only go if you’re ready for the consequences. i.e., that]

[you: so you’re not coming with me]

[chenle: no <3]

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 30

Your chronically early self had gotten there as soon as the doors opened to spectators in order to scope out the perfect spot for yourself. Somewhere not too close to any speakers, where you could still see what was going on, hopefully somewhere Sungchan could maybe see you, but you could make a quick escape if need be. A lot of parameters, hence the need to be early. That meant that you got to watch the visiting team warm up first, and now your school’s team was warming up before the game. Finally the stands started filling up, and you had to do a double-take at the newest figure entering.

“Zhong Chenle, you lying little bitch!” You cursed out your best friend who was approaching you.

He immediately went to defend himself as he plopped down beside you, “Look, I told you I wasn’t going with you, not that I wasn’t going at all. Come on, Lit major.”

He finished off with a solid knock on your head, which didn’t hurt all that much through the beanie you were wearing, but you still slapped his arm away with a glare.

“Are you sure you want to live until graduation day? I can’t tell sometimes.”

“Half the team are Nu Chi guys,” Chenle explained his being there, then waved at one of the players skating by, 23, who gave a salute back. “Jeno.”

“Oh.” You belatedly waved too, but your friend had already turned back to warming up.

Chenle then gave you the run-down on all your friends and acquaintances’ numbers as he spotted them.

“Goalie. Sicheng, 7.” He just blocked a shot from a familiar number, 23. “Already told you, 23 is Jeno. Right wing.”

“Does he always suck?”

“Here’s Ten, number 10. Right defense. He’s never told me which came first, his nickname or his jersey number.”

Sicheng blocked Ten’s shot.

“2 is Mark, center.” His went in.

“66, Donghyuck, center alternate.” His also went in.

“24, that’s Yangyang, left wing—and a miss!”

“This doesn’t bode well that so many of our players apparently kind of suck.” You muttered to yourself, well aware that Chenle was no longer listening to you.

Finally, the tallest of the team was skating up to take a shot. “And there’s your guy, Y/N. Number 27, Jung Sungchan, left defense, captain, your dreamboat—”

“If you don’t shut up—”

“Oh! All net!”

“Isn’t that a basketball—”

“Hey, you got your earplugs, right?”

“Yep, same ones for concerts,” you confirmed, reaching into your purse for them. You hadn’t been able to take your full tote bag into the school sporting event, so you had to condense the essentials into your smaller purse.

“Good, because uh, it’ll get loud.”

“I figured.”

“Yeah, remember how half the team are Nu Chi guys?”

Your eyes widened in realization, “Oh god.”

“Here they come!”

Whipping around to face the same direction he was looking, you saw a horde of about ten to fifteen guys storming the rink, practically shaking the audience section. They were all donned in blue and orange, your university’s colors, various hockey or Nu Chi merch and paraphernalia, and you would’ve absolutely bet money that at least three of them had Nu, Chi, and Tau symbols painted across each of their chests under their shirts. Chenle leapt up to greet them all, the volume of the area immediately rising tenfold at least.

You recognized most of the Nu Chi frat brothers, they were mutual friends or acquaintances of yours through Chenle over the years, and there were even some familiar graduated faces. Lee Taeyong was the first to pick up on your presence, squeezing past Jisung—a new pledge that had glommed onto Chenle in particular—to plop down behind your seat.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Taeyong asked you with a tilted head. “Not exactly a good place for you, is it?”

Taeyong was frat president for your first two years of college and his last two. You had an absolute disaster at a Nu Chi party in your freshman year that he was witness to. Ever since then, when you would see him in passing at other lowkey (or as lowkey as frat functions could get) Nu Chi events that Chenle took you to during those two years, you always got the distinct impression that he was keeping an eye on you during them.

“Could be asking you the same thing, Taeyong,” you countered, fully turning around in your seat to chat with the man. “Didn’t you graduate two years ago? You don’t have anything better to do on a Thursday night? Like your taxes or something?”

“Us old-timers who peaked in college like to come back and re-live our glory days vicariously for the first home game,” he entertained your jibe, making you giggle. “And somebody’s got to be these kids’ DD. They always go at it too hard after the first game. Win or lose.”

Johnny, another graduated Nu Chi brother, spoke up then, eyes laser-focused on you, “So Chenle’s finally dragged you out to a game, Y/N?”

You immediately looked at your friend with wide eyes, knowing what the answer was, and exactly what reaction said answer would garner. Chenle, on the other hand, seemed all too thrilled to join in, turning to face you with his hands on his hips and a knowing smirk on his face.

“Oh no, I didn’t bring Y/N. She actually didn’t know I was coming at all. I found her here all on her own,” he announced to all the guys, who were hanging on to every word he said. If literally anything else were happening, you might’ve laughed at how they were all wrapped around his finger.

“No offense, but you don’t really seem like you’re interested in hockey,” Jungwoo, a junior who you’d shared a couple literature classes with, said curiously.

You sighed, giving Chenle a frank look before admitting, “Jung Sungchan invited me.”

They exploded with various hoots, hollers, whoops, and whistles.

With a shake of your head, you turned back around to look back at the players on the ice, knowing full well that there was nothing you could do alleviate—or even really participate in—the absolute chaos that was happening behind you.

Eventually, the game started. Taeyong, who had moved to sit on your other side from Chenle, quietly explained the basics of what was going on to you: positions, plays, scoring, why the referee made certain calls. Chenle was caught between cheering along with the other Nu Chi guys and rattling off hyper-specific stats on individual players to you, so you were truly grateful to have Taeyong giving you your “hockey for dummies” tips and tidbits throughout.

You kept your eyes on number 27, as Chenle had pointed him out to you earlier. The gear made it somewhat difficult for you to really recognize any distinguishing features about Sungchan himself except maybe his height, made even greater by the skates he was wearing. But as much as the intellectual side of you might’ve hated to admit it, there was definitely some part of you that very much enjoyed watching him play; that got some kind of thrill every time somebody tried to check him and he didn’t budge—or when he checked somebody and they most definitely did budge.

Before you knew it, all three periods were over, and you were jumping to your feet along with the others, cheering wildly. Your school won by a landslide.

“Oh, they’re going to get plastered,” Taeyong murmured from beside you fondly.

All of you had been in the cheering section milled around in the ice rink lobby waiting for the team to get out of the locker room.

“That was fun,” you declared to Chenle as the two of you stood off to the side from the larger group of loud Nu Chi brothers.

“Yeah, you didn’t seem like you were listening to a word I said.”

“Because you were telling me sports stats, Chenle, I’m surprised my brain didn’t start bleeding out of my ears.”

“Well I’m surprised your nose wasn’t bleeding watching your dreamboat Jung Sungchan beat up all those other guys,” Chenle teased. “200 BC called, they want their cavewoman back—”

You lunged at him, managing to get an arm around his throat in the beginnings of a questionably friendly chokehold, “I’m going to kill you, you little—”

“No murder in the rink!” Came the chastising voice of Johnny Suh from afar, and you reluctantly let him go.

The players started streaming out of the locker room soon after, and you nervously scanned the crowd for Sungchan. Chenle was easily dragged into the chaos of everyone celebrating, leaving you standing off to the side waiting.

Finally, you spotted him. Sungchan was wearing a simple pair of black sweatpants and black hoodie with your school’s name embroidered across the front, his hair a bit mussed up. He was deep in conversation with Sicheng, brow furrowed. The goalie’s features were similarly serious as they gestured to each other. You stayed put, not wanting to interrupt. Taeyong had mentioned that Sicheng was sort of like a co-captain, you guessed they might be doing something important.

Then you’d suddenly made eye contact with Sicheng, who was facing you. He gave you a casual head nod, and said something to Sungchan you couldn’t quite make out. The captain whipped around, a bright smile coming to his face as soon as his eyes landed on you. You lifted your hand to give him a small wave and smile back.

Sungchan quickly ended his conversation with Sicheng, making his way over to where you were standing by a wall.

“Hey, Y/N,” he was still smiling down at you, his eyes practically glittering even in the harsh fluorescents of the lobby. “So you really made it out.”

“I said I would.” You fidgeted with the straps of your bag.

“And…?”

You tilted your head, “And?”

“What did you think? You know, are your horizons super broad now or something?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. His phrasing was funny, but also remembering how he played and was now giving you his undivided attention admittedly made your chest flutter.

“It was good, yeah. I had fun,” you confirmed. “You uhm, you played really good. I think.”

“Thanks,” Sungchan scratched at the back of his neck, and you swore the tips of his ears were pink, but that could’ve just been the cold. “Did you drive yourself?”

“Walked, my apartment is close.”

“Uh, so, we all go out to a bar after games usually. It’s kind of a sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday, but I’d really like for you to come. I’ll buy you a dr—”

“I’m really sorry, Sungchan, but I can’t. I’d love to, but…” You trailed off, wracking your brain for some concise way to explain why he couldn’t buy you a drink.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Sungchan assured you, and you winced at the way the hopeful smile fell from his face.

An awkward silence descended over the two of you. You were chewing on your bottom lip, desperately trying to think of something to say to gloss over your rejecting his offer. You didn’t want to end the conversation on such a sour note, nor did you want to leave him just yet either. Stealing a glance at the clock above you on the wall, however, you knew that you’d need to be going soon anyway.

The hockey player was the one who ended up breaking the silence, “Can I walk you home? It’s late for you to be out by yourself.”

A relieved smile overtook your features, and you hoped he could see the sincerity in it, “Sure, thank you. Let me let Chenle know he’s relieved of his man-shaped friend duties for the night, and we can go.”

You got on your tiptoes to look around for your friend, finally spotting him in a headlock by Jeno, with Yangyang giving him a noogie. They all seemed to be laughing, so it didn’t look too much like bullying that you felt the need to intervene.

“You know, I’ll just text him, actually,” you chuckled, bringing out your phone to do just that.

“Man-shaped friend duties?” Sungchan questioned as the automatic doors parted for the two of you.

“His words, not mine,” you snorted. “But you know, making sure a woman doesn’t walk places by herself at night, that kind of stuff. Having a man just with her makes her safer, as fucked up as that is. Chenle corrected it to be man-shaped since he’s not the manly protective type.”

“I see.”

“But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties for tonight, Sungchan.”

As soon as the words were out of your mouth, you wanted to stuff them back in. Friend. God, that was absolutely not what was happening here and you knew it. Chenle’s previous texts flashed across your mind. You obviously knew why Sungchan would’ve wanted to invite you to his game, and you said yes purposefully. Friend. Foot, meet mouth.

Sungchan blinked down at you, but seemed to take it in stride, “Of course, Y/N. Anytime you need a man-shaped person at your side, just call me up. I’ll bring my hockey stick.”

He patted his gear bag that was slung over his shoulder, making you giggle.

“I’ll keep you on speed dial, then.”

It was a short walk to your apartment, and you and Sungchan mostly talked about the game. You asked him a couple questions that Taeyong hadn’t covered during it— which Chenle might’ve, except you had tuned him out. And as you came to a stop at your front door, you didn’t yet fish your keys from your bag.

“How often do you have away games?” You asked.

“They’re usually about half,” Sungchan shrugged. “It’s a bit annoying missing classes, and the bus is kind of rank on the trip back.”

“Ew…” You wrinkled your nose.

“But they’re always a lot of fun.”

“So, uhm, when’s your next home game?”

His face brightened as he seemed to realize what exactly you were asking, “Next week. Same time.”

“Okay, cool.” You bit your lip.

“Cool,” he echoed.

You looked up at Sungchan, catching his eyes for a heart stopping moment. Both of you were standing on your welcome mat, he was close enough that you could catch a faint whiff of the detergent from his clothes—a college athlete with freshly washed clothes? You might already be in love—and watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. You had the urge to grab him by the front of his hoodie and yank him—

A garish, blaring ringing going off interrupted your split-second pros and cons weighing that had been going on. Sungchan startled at the noise, reminding you very much of a baby moose in the moment. You groaned as you reached into your bag for your phone.

“Oh my god, stop it,” you hissed under your breath as you snoozed the alarm that was going off on there. Once it was quiet, you looked back up at the man with you sheepishly, “Sorry about that.”

He joked, “Curfew?”

You laughed lightly, “No, just a reminder for something I have to do after I get home. It’s fine.”

“Well, before you go do that, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Nu Chi and the team are hosting a joint Halloween party this year, and I’d really like it if I could see you there.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow, people will probably start showing up after like ten, eleven. It’s at the Nu Chi house, theirs is bigger than ours.”

“Fascinating phrasing,” you snickered.

“I know this is last minute, so I get if you have other plans or something.”

“I… can probably swing by for a bit, yeah,” you nodded.

“Great!” Sungchan beamed. “Oh, it is a costume party, by the way.”

“Costume?” You arched a brow. “What’ll you being going as? And please don’t say hockey player.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “Definitely not… that would be lame…”

“You were planning on going as a hockey player, weren’t you?”

“Me and Mark have been putting all our spare time into planning this thing, I haven’t had any time to think about a costume.”

“Well you’ve given me 24-hour notice for a costume, so this is your 24-hour notice for one too. When I find you at the Nu Chi house tomorrow, I do not want to see a hockey jersey, Jung Sungchan. Any sports player is off-limits, understand?” You poked his chest with finality.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded in assent.

Just then, your alarm went off again, and this time you jumped out of your skin. Apparently, another 5 minutes had elapsed. With a sigh, you reached into your bag for your keys.

“I should let you go do that thing,” Sungchan chuckled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Sungchan,” you unlocked your front door. “See you tomorrow.”

Sitting at your kitchen table a couple minutes later, you were looking down at the vitals displayed on the screen of your blood pressure cuff.

“Jung Sungchan…” you muttered to yourself as you added the reading to your digital record, noting how the line graph jumped up with the new data.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 31

“You agreed to go to a frat party?” Chenle’s eyes were bugging out of his head as he sat across a high top in the dining hall from you. You two were grabbing a quick lunch between classes, and doing an obligatory catch-up on how your short but sweet walk with Sungchan went last night. “Do you remember what happened last time, Y/N?”

“Hard to forget,” you snorted.

“And yet it seems you did, somehow, lost in dreamboat Jung Sungchan’s eyes.”

You threw a fry from his plate at him, “It wasn’t like that!”

He ducked, letting it sail by his head and hit the wall behind him.

“Then what was it like?”

“It was more like a big puppy that I couldn’t say no to and—”

You were cut off by loud gagging noises from your friend, and went to kick him under the table, but missed and hit his chair leg instead. He still got the message, quieting down to let you continue.

“I told him I’d be able to just pop in for a bit. I’ll be in and out before it’ll get too bad.”

“Famous last words...”

“Hold on, LeLe,” you grabbed your friend’s arm to stop him on the sidewalk in front of the Nu Chi Tau frat house.

Taking another look into your tote bag, you made sure once again that you had everything you could possibly need tonight. Medications, snacks, water bottle, ear plugs, the usual. After closing the snaps on the bag, you nervously fidgeted with the hem of your costume. Generic witch, it was the last thing the costume store had in your size that wasn’t garishly scary. You understood well and good how college Halloween parties worked: you had to look hot, not terrifying. Not to mention that those horror show costumes were also much pricier than your “Sexy Witch” one.

“You look cute, Y/N,” Chenle reassured you, readjusting your witch hat for you. “Jung Sungchan won’t know what hit him.”

Chenle, on the other hand, was an almost scarily realistic zombie. If you hadn’t spent an ungodly amount of time hanging out on his bathroom counter this afternoon watching him apply the SFX makeup himself, you would’ve thought he had hired a professional makeup artist to do it. He’d always gone ham on Halloween since you two were kids, ever since he figured out how to make a Transformers costume out of cardboard boxes in primary school. You usually participated in partner costumes with him, but you really didn’t want him to make you a gross-looking zombie tonight.

“Thanks.” You gave him as confident a smile as you could muster.

Resecuring your grip on your go bag, you started up the walkway to the house with your friend.

You had been able to faintly hear the thumping bass of the music from outside, but once inside, you were almost immediately hit by a wall of music. Just inside the front door you were faced with a mass of people in bright costumes, flashing lights, corny Halloween decorations of cobwebs, spiders, ghosts, and pumpkins all over the walls.

Chenle looked over at you expectantly, “Y/N?”

“I couldn’t find my concert earplugs, only my noise canceling. I won’t be able to hear anybody unless they’re shouting at me if I put those in,” you replied, having to raise your voice to make sure he heard you. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay…” He sighed and grabbed your elbow. “Come on, let’s find a quieter spot in the house then.”

You gave him a thumbs up and bright grin, already feeling your ears acclimate to the loudness. You could totally do this. It was one night, and you were just going to see Sungchan for a bit then go. Pop in then back out, just like you said.

You didn’t have to wait long to spot Sungchan. Chenle had barely tugged you into the next room over from the small foyer when a familiar head was visible over the crowd, his bright smile focused on you.

“Hey, Y/N!” Sungchan grinned down at you. He was dressed in a suit and tie, what you were guessing was probably his only set, and his hair was parted to one side, styled off of his face. The tie had already been loosened, and the tuck of his dress shirt wasn’t so crisp.

“Hi, Sungchan,” you smiled up at him, amazed that you could hear anything over both the music and now your heart beating so loudly in your ears.

“So you did find a costume.”

“Oh, yeah,” you messed with the hem of your skirt. “Last one at the shop.”

“You look great.” He was still beaming down at you, and you could feel your skin growing warmer. “I’m really glad you could make it.”

“Thanks. Uhm, so what are you? Funeral director?”

“What? No, I’m—” His sentence stopped in its tracks as he looked down at the front of his suit jacket. He started patting his empty breast pocket, then other jacket pockets, then pants pockets, then looked around on the floor. “Fuck.”

“What?” You looked around under your feet, but weren’t able to see anything other than the usual party debris. “Did you lose something?”

Sungchan looked back up at you, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I was about to say that I’m Mulder from the X-Files. But I’ve apparently lost my fake FBI badge. So it looks like I’m a funeral director now.”

You giggled. “Maybe you can be Mulder when he retires and buys a funeral home.”

“Yeah, the perfect costume. Won’t take too long to explain to anybody, they’ll get it immediately,” he laughed.

“Hey, I’m just glad you didn’t wear a jersey.”

“I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

“Oh, have you seen Chenle’s makeup by the—” But when you turned around to gesture to your friend, you found that he had disappeared, leaving you and the hockey captain all alone.

“Chenle?” Sungchan asked with a tilted head. “I didn’t even realize he was here yet.”

You shook your head fondly at your friend’s antics. Well, you’d have to thank him later.

“He must have gone to get a drink or something. Either way, it seems I’ve been abandoned.”

“Well, you can come hang out with me and some of the guys, if you want?” He offered.

“Yeah, I’d really like that,” you nodded, readjusting your bag to make sure it was pulled in tight to your body.

Sungchan led you through the frat house with a hand on the small of your back, and you snuck a glance up at him when he went to greet someone who had called his name as you passed by. He kept you tucked into his side as he slowed to give the guy a friendly slap on the shoulder. As soon as Sungchan had stopped to say hello, two more people appeared seemingly from nowhere, eagerly greeting him as well. You faintly recognized one, Jisung, a new Nu Chi pledge. He’d been at the hockey game you went to, and always found Chenle at Nu Chi events that you tagged along to. You looked up at Sungchan’s animated, handsome face again as he continued talking.

“This is Y/N.” Sungchan’s voice suddenly pulled you into the conversation. You snapped your focus down from his face to the other three that were in front of you, and realized that they all definitely knew that you’d been staring.

“Oh, hi.” You gave the three boys a nervous smile.

“Y/N, this is Jisung, Shotaro, and Renjun. Jisung and Shotaro are Nu Chi pledges, Renjun’s a sophomore brother, and he’s—you’re a Literature major, right, Renjun?”

“Yes.” One of them nodded.

“Renjun’s a Literature major too, Y/N,” Sungchan finished the introduction.

“Cool, cool,” you nodded. It had been Shotaro that called Sungchan over in the first place, you were pretty sure.

“Anyway, thanks for the offer, guys, but I already promised Hyuck I would, so we’ve got to go.”

Sungchan ushered you away to the tune of a chorus of disappointed groans from the three boys, and you wracked your brain to see if you could recall hearing any sort of proposition from them. But nope, between the loud music and your prior lack of attention to the conversation, you had nothing.

“What did they want?” You gave up and finally asked Sungchan.

“Beer pong. Hope you don’t mind that I declined. I’ve already had a couple and am not looking to get wasted quite yet.”

“Oh, no, not at all,” you shook your head. Thank god you didn’t have to deal with that yet. “Not really my thing anyway. Terrible hand-eye coordination.”

Sungchan seemed about to say something when someone walked by you with an exceptionally pungent cologne. The whiff shot directly to your head like a bullet, the sharp pain making you wince and hiss. It took everything in you not to cover your nose like Edward Cullen and instead shift to breathing through your mouth for a few moments.

“Y/N? You okay?” Sungchan’s voice was clearly concerned.

The sharp pain was gone just a couple moments after it had registered, and you opened your eyes up again, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, don’t know what that was.”

“Okay, good.” He squeezed your shoulder before dropping his hand back down to your back and continuing your trek through the Nu Chi house.

You and Sungchan finally made it to a room adjacent to the main living room, where there were a couple of beat-up old couches and lots of Nu Chi Tau paraphernalia. The bass of the music playing in the next room over would occasionally make the picture frames and plaques on the walls rattle, and you could hear every word of the songs crystal clear, even though the room that you were in was packed to the brim with partygoers as well. Sungchan stopped you at a group of people gathered around one of the couches, tapping the shoulders of two of them who had their backs to you. Donghyuck and Hendery turned around, immediately parting to make room for the both of you in the group upon seeing you.

Almost everyone in the group was familiar to you either as friends or acquaintances. Your social circle was big thanks to Chenle, who was friends with practically the entire hockey team and Nu Chi house, despite being a member of neither. But now you didn’t have your best friend at your side, just Sungchan and your tote bag, both of which you were keeping close to you.

“Oh shit, Y/N!” Hendery grinned, pulling you into a one-armed hug of greeting. “Damn, it really is you!”

“Yeah, I’m a witch, not a ghost, Hendery,” you retorted jokingly. He was dressed as Prince Eric, if you weren’t mistaken.

“Well, when Sungchan said you were coming, some of us were a bit... skeptical.”

Someone dressed as Venom cut in from Hendery’s other side sharply, “No, I believe you said ‘never in a million fucking years, loverboy.’”

The rest of the group erupted in tipsy snickers and ‘ooh’s, and you felt Sungchan jostle a little as someone had presumably given him a teasing shove.

“Alright, guys. You can cut it out now,” Sungchan spoke over them authoritatively. He then looked down to you, features softening. “Sorry. Anyway, this is Donghyuck, he’s on the team and in Nu Chi—”

He pointed to the boy right next to him, wearing a very classic vampire costume splattered with a little bit of fake blood or fruit punch (you couldn’t tell in the poor lighting), and you wondered if he had also gone to a Halloween store last-minute like you. You knew him both from the game, and from a couple times you’d seen him with Chenle outside of frat or hockey events.

“Mark, frat president and he’s on the hockey team—” He was next to Donghyuck, dressed as Spiderman. You were already familiar with Mark, both from the game, and a group project in a class last year. You wondered if Mark remembered that.

“Ten, hockey and Nu Chi—” Ten was reclined on the couch, a top hat that had presumably been on his head earlier now resting on his propped up knee. Between that and his eyepatch, he clearly was dressed as some character that you couldn’t identify in the moment. You knew Ten outside of hockey, the frat, or even Chenle. He was a Lit major, so you had shared classes and study groups over the years. He raised a friendly hand in greeting.

“Sicheng, my co-captain and he’s in Nu Chi, too—” He was on the couch with Ten, sequestered to one corner as his teammate was taking up most of the space with his legs. Sicheng was dressed up as an angel, fake wings, little halo, and all. And you knew Sicheng through Ten, they’d been roommates since freshman year and could often be found together around campus. He gave you a nod of familiarity.

“Dejun, Nu Chi—” Sungchan had finally reached the man who was dressed as Venom.

“And you of course, unfortunately, know Hendery, Nu Chi.”

“Oh, boo, Sungchan,” Hendery stuck his tongue out at the captain.

You smiled and nodded a little bit at everyone else, but you were finding it hard to concentrate with the music in the background. Did it really need to be that loud?

“Y/N?” The sound of your name snapped your focus up, and you looked around for the source.

A few of the guys had gone back to their own conversations. Sungchan was looking down at you, head tilted inquisitively. Presumably he had been to the one to say your name.

“Oh, sorry,” you tried to give a nonchalant chuckle, but it was getting harder and harder to even articulate yourself with all the stimulation. “The music...”

“Oh!” Sungchan perked up at this. “Do you want to go dance?”

He was offering a hand out to you, and you stared down at it, mouth opening and closing as your brain felt like it was moving through sludge. You quite literally could not process what that string of words actually meant for a good second, and then it took even longer for you to even tie together the right way for you to respond. Cognitive fatigue. Oh this was not good. You squeezed your eyes shut, then open.

You again gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I’m- I’m kind of light-headed right now. Could you get me something to drink?”

His features immediately turned concerned. “Of course. Do you need to sit down or a ride h—”

“Can you just get me a drink?” Your brain was stuck in a perpetual loop now that it had locked onto one task. It took all of your energy just to regulate your tone enough to keep your voice (hopefully) as sweet as possible, despite the fact that you had cut him off.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” He squeezed your upper arm reassuringly before taking off.

Your eyes were fixated on the spot where he had just been, your vision seeming to continuously zoom in and past your head. Squeezing your eyes shut once more, you took a deep breath through your mouth to try to recenter yourself. But it didn’t help any. Your head felt like a balloon that someone was overinflating, and you knew exactly what was coming next. You swallowed thickly, taking a second to look through the crowd. Nope, you couldn’t wait for Sungchan. Not like you could even verbalize much of anything right now. You had to go take your medication.

So you hurried into the crowd, clutching your tote bag to your chest like your life depended on it—which it really did. Mumbling ‘excuse me’s to everyone you shouldered, bumped into, or stepped on the toes of, you finally made it to a door that you were pretty sure was a bathroom. You tried the handle first, and when it gave in, you still knocked as you opened it, just in case. It was miraculously empty. Maybe there really was a God. Then, the balloon started to deflate, the pressure in your head inverted, becoming a harsh, squeezing pain instead. Nope, nope, definitely not a God. Or at least not a benevolent one.

You locked the door behind you with clumsy fingers and shuffled over to the sink. The countertop was in good enough condition for you to toss your bag up there and start rooting around through it. Bottle after bottle after bottle, then you finally secured the right two. You shook out a pill from one, then a pill from the other. The lights above the mirror were becoming more insufferable by the second. You cracked open the fresh bottle of water you had stored in your bag too, and knocked both pills back in one big gulp.

Tossing the water back into your bag, you could fucking finally flip the switch and turn the lights in the bathroom off. After feeling your way along the wall, you eventually found the bathtub, and sat yourself down. The music was somewhat muffled in here, and you figured this was going to be the darkest room in the whole Nu Chi house. Right now, your plan was to wait in here for your medication to kick in and hopefully stop this migraine before it really got going. Then you could make your great escape, and send Sungchan some bullshit apology text later. After tossing your witch hat to the ground vaguely beside your bag, you gently rested your head against the cool tile of the shower with a sigh. Chenle was right, you shouldn’t have come. Cynically, you thought that you should have timed it. See how long you lasted before you got a migraine. You’d be surprised if that was even 15 minutes.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sungchan returned to the group with your requested drink in hand and another for himself, frowning when he immediately noticed your absence. “Hey, where’d Y/N go?”

“Oh, shit, uh…” Mark looked around with a baffled look on his face. “No clue dude, she was just here a second ago.”

“I’m going to go find her. Here.” He shoved both drinks into Hendery’s hands.

“Sungchan, come on, take a hint, man,” Donghyuck sighed, patting the taller boy’s shoulder sympathetically.

“What?”

“She asked you to get her something to drink and then slipped away when nobody was looking.”

“Y/N’s not like that.”

“And denial’s a river in Egypt.”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well all night. I think. I’m going to go look for her.”

“So you’re admitting that you make her physically ill.”

“Dude, you’re just asking to get your shit rocked, you know that, right?” Ten warned him.

“Hey, I’m standing up for women—”

Mark cut him off, “Hyuck, you’re on your own if Sungchan decides to fuck your shit up. I don’t care if you’re my little, I’m not—”

“Oh, wahhh, my big strong big won’t protect me.”

“Christ, I swear he’s only had like four shots and a couple…”

His friends’ voices quickly faded into the din of the party as Sungchan pushed through the crowd. He couldn’t spot you, but found maybe the next best thing.

“Hey, Chenle.” He grabbed him by the elbow, turning him away from the arm wrestling competition between Jeno and Yangyang that he was spectating. Or, he at least hoped this was Chenle, it was a bit hard to tell with the zombie makeup.

“Hey, Romeo!” Chenle greeted him jovially, punching him in the shoulder over-zealously. Okay, definitely him.

“Have you seen Y/N? In the past like, five minutes or so?”

“You lost her?” The zombie asked angrily, cheerful mood immediately soured.

“Uh, yes? Sorry?”

“No, I’m not pissed at you,” he shook his head at Sungchan’s apology. “You go check the bathrooms, I’ll look outside. Don’t bother calling her, she’s not going to pick up.”

“What’s—”

But Chenle was already gone.

You weren’t sure how long you had been sitting in there for, but you could feel some of the overstimulation from the party beginning to slide off of you. Which could be either a good or bad thing. Cognitive fatigue was usually a prodrome and postdrome for you. Regaining some clarity could either mean that your medication was working and the migraine was going away, or you were about to enter the proper migraine phase. The fact that the pain hadn’t gone away was worrying. But at least it was dark, and relatively quiet. Oh, quiet... you could put in your earplugs now too.

Just as you had gone to grab for your bag, there was a knock at the bathroom door. You froze. Shit.

“Occupied!” You yelled out hesitantly to them, wincing at the loudness of your own voice. Okay, ow.

The person knocked again, harder.

“Seriously! Busy in here! Puking my brains out!” You yelled even louder, hoping they got the fucking idea this time. There was no way you wanted to have to actually get up and deal with a drunk partygoer that needed to piss and/or puke.

“Y/N? That you?” A familiar voice came through the door. “It’s Sungchan, can I come in?”

“Oh, sure, hold on.” You clambered out of the tub as carefully as you could in the dim lighting coming from under the door.

Against your better judgment, you turned one set of lights on in the bathroom, then cracked the bathroom door open. Sungchan was in fact on the other side, and you stepped back to let him in. He looked around the bathroom, worry on his face.

You shut the door behind him, saying sheepishly, “So, I was lying about the puking my brains out.”

“But you don’t look okay.” He peered down at your face as you were still wincing against the bright lights. “You didn’t drink anything tonight, what’s wrong?”

You went to sit on the side of the tub, feeling a pain in your eyes now. You gestured to the light switch. “Can you turn that light off?”

“Uh, okay…” He obliged, and the room was dim once again.

Your eyes adjusted quickly, and you could still see the general outline of everything in the room. Sitting back in the tub, you pulled your knees to your chest. Well, no chance for your great escape now. Sungchan climbed into the dry tub with you, facing you. He didn’t fit great in the small space, all gangly limbs, and your knees bumped into each other. But he sat there with you quietly.

“I’ve got a migraine coming on, I had to get somewhere quiet and dark and take my meds.” You told him bluntly, opting to just take the plunge. Not like you could even attempt flowery language at the moment anyway. Sure, some of your speech capabilities were coming back now that there was less sensory input, but you weren’t going to be doing any soliloquies tonight.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sungchan said quietly. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, no. I actually- I actually don’t want to be alone right now, if that’s okay?” You surprised yourself with your answer.

“Yeah, of course.” He said reassuringly. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“I might not have drank but you did. I’ll be okay here, for the most part. I’m the one who came knowing that I get sound-induced migraines.”

“Wait, really?”

“Mm, yeah,” you pinched the bridge of your nose to alleviate some of the tension there for a moment. “Remember when I said Chenle pushes me out of my comfort zone in a good way most of the time?”

“Right.”

“One of the times it wasn’t... good was when he got an invite to Nu Chi’s Halloween party our freshman year, dragged me with him. And he always means the best when he does stuff like that. I hadn’t made any new friends at college, meanwhile he had a bunch, including some of the pledges at Nu Chi.”

“How he got the invite.”

“Exactly.” You needed to take a pause, resting your head against the cool tile again. After a few deep breaths, you pushed on in the story. “Anyway, we’d been there for a couple hours when the loudness and the music and everything finally got to me and I got a migraine. I had my go bag on me, and went to what I thought was an empty corner of the house to take my meds. But a couple other people saw me knocking back pills and wanted some. My head was hurting like a bitch, and they were trying to grab them from me and anyway, I spilled a bunch of them all over the floor, drenched myself with my water and their beer, and elbowed a dude and gave him a bloody nose.”

“Holy shit,” Sungchan breathed out.

You opened and closed your jaw a couple times to try to relax the muscles and joints there. “I couldn’t even open my eyes because my head hurt so bad. Chenle told me later I was screaming and Taeyong wanted to call an ambulance until Chenle ran up and explained what was happening. They put me, Chenle, and Jeno—turns out that’s whose nose I broke—in Taeyong’s room in the house for the rest of the night. Neither Chenle nor I were in any shape to drive ourselves home.”

“Wait is that how you met Jeno?”

“Yeah, and it turns out he wasn’t one of the ones trying to take my pills, he was trying to break up me and the people who were. Collateral damage.” You recounted it regrettably.

“When Jeno found out I’d invited you, he told me he’d keep his room clear in case we needed it. I thought he was just being a dick.” Sungchan sounded like he was having an epiphany. “Y/N, do you think you’ll be okay to move up a floor?”

The bass was thudding through the door, and you knew that if you stayed here when you transitioned into the throes of however bad this migraine fully got, you’d regret it. Grabbing your earplugs from your bag and putting them in, you gave him a thumbs-up and attempted a smile, but you knew it came out like more of a wince.

Sungchan kept you between him and the wall as you moved through the Nu Chi house, casting as much of a shadow against the garishly flashing lights as possible. Even through your earplugs, the music was raucous, people were practically screaming at each other, and you gripped one hand around his arm and the other onto his suit jacket to keep yourself balanced and to not lose him. When you got to the stairs, he fully wrapped an arm around your shoulders to jerk you out of the way of a drunk Nu Chi member stumbling his way down, and kept it there the rest of the way up. The noise was squeezing around your head like a vice, and you shut your eyes tight at the top of the stairs for a moment in an attempt to clear your head.

Sungchan’s voice was right beside your ear, muffled through the earplugs, “We’re almost there, Y/N, I’m sorry, come on.”

You were vaguely aware of the man with you feeling around on the top of a doorway before jiggling a doorhandle, and finally you were in a blissfully dark and quiet-ish room. Your head definitely hurt more than before, and you practically collapsed onto the bed.

“He was kind enough to stuff all his dirty clothes in the closet,” Sungchan muttered.

You managed a strangled chuckle at that, dropping your go bag onto the floor beside the bed. A moment of silence passed, and you could hear Sungchan awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet at the doorway.

“Sungchan,” you said his name, then patted the empty half of the bed beside you. “You can sit. I know Jeno doesn’t have any other furniture in here besides the bed and his PlayStation.”

“He probably only has a bedframe because it came with the room.”

You snickered, but were cut off by the squeezing pain turning to a sharp, stabbing pain behind your left eye, “Oh fuck!”

“Y/N?!” Sungchan was right beside you, and you felt the bed dip as he sat down beside you.

“Sorry, sorry, it feels like I’m getting an icepick lobotomy! Jesus!” You hissed, cupping a hand over your left eye as if that were actually going to do anything. “It’s normal, I’m fine. Relatively.”

“Okay…”

Still clutching your eye, you rolled onto your side and brought your knees up towards your chest. You blindly fumbled towards the head of the bed, and felt a pillow being pressed into your hand.

“Thanks,” you muttered, tucking it under your head.

“Do you want to lay under the covers?” Sungchan whispered.

“Do they smell like Jeno’s washed them in the past week?”

He laughed breathily at that, “Miraculously they do. I think he was planning on getting laid.”

“He gave up getting his dick wet for me. Jeno’s a real one,” you mumbled, feeling the covers that you were laying on top of being pulled out from under you.

Sungchan gently brought the sheet up to your shoulder, then a blanket too. The stabbing pain behind your eye was still there, and your stomach filled with dread as you acknowledged that your acute medication wasn’t going to be working this time. This was going to be a full-blown migraine, and who knew how many hours it would last.

“Thank you.”

“Is there anything else you need? Water?”

“No. Just uh, let me know when two hours have passed, I can take another dose of my meds that aren’t fucking working then.”

“Oh. Will do.”

You opened and closed your jaw, letting out a distinct groan. Another few minutes passed. Or, you think it was a few minutes, you couldn’t really check your phone for the time.

“Sungchan.”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to stay. I’m sure the party is a lot more fun.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“…No.”

“I want to stay. I’m not going to have any fun out there knowing that you’re in all in this pain all alone in here.”

You squinted your right eye open, and had to crane your neck to look up at where Sungchan was sitting against the headboard. He had taken his suit jacket and shoes off at some point, now just in a rumpled dress shirt, loosened tie, slacks, and socks. He held your eye contact steadily, head tilted slightly and a frown across his handsome features.

Reaching your unoccupied hand up towards him, he watched it with confusion.

“What do you need? Your bag?”

“No.” You grabbed his hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Oh.” An adorably radiant grin was on his face now instead.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1

Sungchan knew you’d finally fallen asleep when you stopped muttering swears and curses under your breath, the pained expression fell from your face, and your hand that was holding his went limp. He could still hear the party going strong outside of Jeno’s bedroom, and a glance at his phone told him it was just after one in the morning. He had no want to rejoin his friends, to leave you.

He took his tie all the way off, thinking to himself that if you were feeling better, you might have joked that he looked like Mulder the off-duty funeral director. And he would’ve laughed and watched the cute way the corners of your mouth quirked up when you said something that you thought was funny. He set the tie down with his shoes on the floor beside the bed.

Careful to stay on top of the covers that you were sleeping under, Sungchan shifted until he was laying down too, pillow tucked under his head, facing you on his side, hand still holding yours.

Like usual, you didn’t remember falling asleep, but you did remember shutting your eyes tight and wishing really hard for your head to stop hurting so bad. Or to die. Whichever the Universe felt like granting. And judging by the fact that you were now waking up without a migraine, it seemed like the former.

The first thing you were aware of before you even opened your eyes was that you felt like shit. Sure, your head didn’t hurt anymore, but jeez the morning after wasn’t much better. Tired, achy, and your brain felt like TV static.

The second thing that you were aware of, after opening your eyes, was Jung Sungchan just a few inches from your face. He was still asleep, soft bursts of air passing from his lips and mussing up strands of hair that were falling into his eyes. You didn’t quite have enough in you to coo over his bedhead, but you could give half of a fond smile as you pushed yourself into a sitting position, running a sleepy hand over one side of your face.

Only one of your earplugs was still in your ears, and you looked around the bedsheets for the other one. After securing it, you scooted over to the edge of the bed to put the plugs back into your carrying case before rolling back over and pulling the blankets over you again. You deserved this, honestly. Sleeping in late, a comfy bed, warm blankets, a cute boy next to you, nothing to—

Your happy thoughts were ripped away by the sound of a loud alarm. You shot up, scrambling towards your tote bag to grab your phone from the depths of it and turn your goddamn alarm off before it woke Sungchan up.

“Mm?”

Too late.

Sheepishly, you looked over at him, “Sorry…”

“‘S okay,” he mumbled, flopping onto his back and rubbing a hand over his face. “How’s your head?”

“Better. A lot better, thanks.”

“Good, good.” He yawned, “Morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

His eyes were closed as he laid there, a hand resting on his chest, and you weren’t sure if he had fallen back asleep.

“…Sungchan?”

“Hm?”

Taking his inquisitive tone as a sign that you could keep talking, you said, “Uhm, that was the first time I’ve had anybody around for one my migraines in a while. I’m sorry if it was… well, I don’t know. What was it like for you?”

He opened his eyes, rolling onto his side to face you and tucking a hand under his cheek, “Oh, uh, I mean, I wasn’t quite worried, since you seemed like you knew exactly what was happening, you know? But still, I… I was wishing there was more I could do. It was weird knowing that you were in pain but not being able to see where it hurt.”

“I should’ve figured that might be upsetting. Sorry about all that.”

“No, Y/N, it's okay. I get it, you just wanted someone with you when you were hurting.”

“Yeah, yeah, I did,” you nodded, curling one of your hands into a fist in your lap, digging your nails into your palm in an attempt to not cry at how easily he saw right into you.

“I was more than happy to sit with you.”

“I’ve had these stupid migraines for years now. Tried every treatment in the book, been on every regiment. And my friends and family, they don’t treat me like I’m made of glass or anything, which I’m grateful for. Everyone in my life knows I’m a pro at it all: I’ve got my go bag, all my meds, my alarms, I’ve been going to doctors’ appointments, testing, everything for years. But like... they still hurt. The migraines still fucking hurt.” Your voice cracked over the word, and your nails dug in deeper. “And I just… think they forget that part sometimes? I don’t know, I guess they hear the word ‘migraine’ thousands of times over the years it sort of loses its meaning. They kind of forget what one actually is. But it hurts Sungchan, my head just hurts for hours or even days, sometimes so bad I throw up from the pain. I can’t do anything but lay in bed in the dark and cry. Last night’s wasn’t that bad but still… thank you. I needed for it to all be real to somebody.”

Sungchan pushed up into a sitting position, and through your watery vision you could see that his brows were furrowed. You followed where his gaze was locked, and watched as he gently unfurled your fingers. You used the thumb of your other hand to rub at the divots that your nails had left in your skin.

“The migraines are why I’ve been all weird, by the way.” You added, trying to ignore the strain in your voice.

“What?”

“When you wanted to buy me a drink after the game. One of my migraine medications that I take, I can’t drink alcohol on it. It just felt like a weird and long explanation to have to give in the moment. And when you asked if I wanted to dance with you last night, the music would’ve made the migraine come on quicker than it did, but explaining it to you then, again it felt like it would’ve ruined the moment even more.”

“Oh… don’t worry about it.”

There was still one big thing you hadn’t smoothed over. But it looks like you’re on man-shaped friend duties tonight, Sungchan. Stupid, stupid.

Pushing through the discomfort prickling at your skin, you asked, “Sungchan, do you want to go on a date?”

“A…” He looked you dead in the eyes for a moment, mouth parted, and blinked once, twice before he was absolutely beaming at you. “Yeah, yes, I do.”

“Okay.” You couldn’t help but giggle, nerves buzzing through you as your chest was airy and you were lightheaded for two reasons now, “Okay, good.”

“Is it bad for me to say that I’m relieved? That you have migraines? Well, not that you have them, because obviously they hurt, but like, that this is what it was? I seriously thought I was being stupid, like mixed signals or something. Like, you came to my game but then you didn’t want to go to the bar.” He ticked the instances off on the fingers of one hand.

“Medication,” you nodded.

“Right. Then you let me walk you home after, but you called me your friend.”

“That was just plain stupidity,” you admitted with a groan at having to relive that moment again.

“And you said yes to coming to the party, but then you didn’t want to dance with me,” Sungchan had now run out of fingers and dropped his hand back down to the bed.

“The music...”

“And when you disappeared, I thought you left because you didn’t like me. I just… felt like I was going crazy.”

“It’s not awful of you to be relieved about this. I’m sorry, Sungchan. Migraines aren’t conducive to romance, apparently.”

“Oh, bullshit.” He pushed back immediately. “They’re just not conducive to drinking and loud parties. That’s not romance.”

“Alright, fair. I’m wont to agree with you.”

“And you need to stop apologizing for your migraines. It’s not like you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Well, I did come to a loud ass party knowing I’d probably get a sound-induced migraine.”

“Okay, aside from that— which, I’m very flattered by and will never ever ask you to do anything like this ever again.”

“Okay.”

Suddenly the door handle rattled, then there was a banging on the door. “Hey! Are you two done in there?” Jeno yelled through the wood. “You better not be having post-headache sex on my bed!”

“Seems like he didn’t get laid last night,” Sungchan muttered.

“If he keeps up that pounding I’m going to get a rebound headache and he’s going to wake the entire house, please let him in,” you groaned.

The boy with you quickly moved to do so, unlocking the door and throwing it open to whisper aggressively, “Jeno! Shut the fuck up! People are still sleeping!”

“Oh. You’re dressed.”

You rolled your eyes at your friend, “I don’t know what you think a migraine is like, but getting my back blown out is pretty far down on my to-do list for immediately after.”

“How are you feeling?” Jeno was nice enough to ask as he rooted through his closet.

“Like shit. While you guys nurse actual hangovers today, I get to nurse a migraine hangover. Same awful morning after without the fun night before.”

“That sucks.” He secured a rumpled shirt and inside out pair of sweatpants. “I told Chenle you were crashing here last night, by the way. He didn’t just abandon you for shits and giggles.”

“Oh, thanks. He was sober enough to drive?”

“Mark had a Breathalyzer and everything.”

“Wow…”

“Now I recommend you two get the fuck out before everyone else wakes up and sees you sneaking out together.”

“Right,” Sungchan nodded, sitting on the edge of Jeno’s bed and pulling his shoes on.

You quickly gathered your shoes, phone, witch hat, and go bag before giving Jeno a short goodbye and following Sungchan out. The Nu Chi house was thankfully quiet as everyone was still asleep in their own rooms, save for the partygoers and brothers who had passed out on the couches in the living rooms. Once you were on the front porch, the two of you dared to speak again.

“I’ll drive you home, Y/N,” Sungchan offered.

“Mhm, thanks,” you squinted against the bright sunlight, reaching into your bag for the spare pair of sunglasses you kept in there.

He gestured to your bag. “So what all do you have in there?”

“Everything but the kitchen sink.” You sighed, finally securing your sunglasses and putting them on. They did help, but you knew there was no way you were going to avoid a rebound headache today. Realizing that Sungchan might actually have been genuinely asking and wasn’t just trying to be polite, you decided to give him a sincere answer as well. “Uh, my meds, my blood pressure cuff, earplugs, sunglasses, some snacks, other miscellaneous non-migraine related stuff like an umbrella.”

“Blood pressure cuff?” He stopped in front of a sedan parked on the street, and opened the passenger door for you.

Even through your unpleasant migraine hangover, you couldn’t help the giddy smile that crossed your lips at the gesture.

Once the both of you were in the car, you explained, “One of my medications affects my blood pressure. I have to check it every few hours, or whenever I feel kind of funny. That’s partially what the snacks are for too.”

“Really?” He started the car and pulled out into the street.

“Most of my meds I need to take with food, so keeping snacks on me makes it easy. The sweet ones are in case my blood sugar drops though.”

“Blood sugar too?”

“A different medication affects my appetite, secondary effect is on my blood sugar. Fun fact, it’s the same one that keeps me from drinking alcohol. Anyway, if you’re ever craving something sweet, I keep gummies and stuff on me usually.”

Sungchan let out a deep breath. “Wow…”

“Oh and water.” You perked up as you realized you’d forgotten something, and reached in for said item. “I've got my water bottle. I need water to take my meds, obviously, but I also need to drink water to make sure I don’t get kidney stones from my medication.”

The car had stopped at a stoplight, and he looked over at you in disbelief. “What the fuck.”

“Hey, it’s this or be entirely unable to participate in society.” You explained. “I used to get five or six migraines a week, with really bad or mild headaches constantly in between. I couldn’t do anything, they were disabling. Clearly, they still are now when I do get them, but I only get one or two a month.”

“I can’t imagine— I… yeah…” He trailed off as the light turned green, a deep frown etching itself on his features as he clearly was trying to imagine what a huge shift in his life that would be. And was having a hard time doing so.

“People without chronic illnesses usually can’t, until they get one,” you shrugged. “I know I couldn’t imagine it either. Then I got my first migraine. Then my second, and my third. I think the ‘chronic illness’ part really hit for me when I had to order my first sharps disposal bin for the monthly injections I take.”

“You’re…”

“Do not say that I’m so strong or any live laugh love type shit right now.”

He laughed, shaking his head, “No, no, not what I was going to say. I was just thinking… you’re really cool.”

“I just info-dumped about my migraines, medication, medication side effects, and treatment to you for ten minutes straight and that’s the conclusion you came to?” You asked in disbelief as he pulled into your apartment complex, and it dawned on you just how long you had been talking about yourself for. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been that detailed with someone other than your neurologist or your mom about your condition and treatment.

Sungchan put his car in park to turn and look you in the eye. “I’m looking at the bigger picture here: You’re a Lit major, you like Gothic fiction, you’re good at writing, you’re smart and know things like death of the author and stuff, you like Pacific Rim, you’ve come to one of my games, you’re funny, and you just info-dumped to me about something personal for ten minutes. So yes, I think you’re cool. Actually, cool might be an understatement.”

“Jung Sungchan, you…” Your cheeks were hurting with how wide you were grinning. Whether it was the migraine hangover or truly from how warm and happy his words made you, you couldn’t formulate a proper response, “Congrats, I’m speechless.”

“I think that's good?” He laughed again. “Anyway, you told Jeno earlier that you felt like shit, so I won’t hold you up anymore. Rest well today, Y/N.”

“Thanks. You too, Sungchan.” You wrapped your hand around the door handle but stopped just short of actually opening it. “Oh, and uhm, I don’t know if this too eager or whatever, but I’m free tomorrow.”

His face lit up with recognition at what you were implying. “Me too. But are you going to be okay? Like, recovered?”

“Yeah, I’ve got all day today to sleep it off.”

“Okay.” He grinned.

“Okay.” You repeated. “Text me?”

“Yes, yes. I will.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

And with that, you got out of his car, making sure to take your go bag that had been on your lap for the whole drive.

Halfway to your front door, you turned around to give Sungchan a final wave goodbye, and he waved back through the windshield. Once you’d finally disappeared into your apartment, he looked over at his now empty passenger seat. Well, not completely empty, he realized. Your witch hat was on the floor of the passenger side, you’d forgotten to grab it on your way out. He picked it up, gently setting it on the seat beside him. He’d just give it back to you when he saw you again for your date tomorrow.

“A date,” Sungchan sighed happily, feeling his chest swell and nearly burst with joy. “A date, a date, a date.”

Putting his car in reverse, he looked through the rear window as he muttered, “Suck an egg, Donghyuck. Man-shaped friend, my ass.”

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 2

Sungchan picked you up at 7:00 p.m. on the dot for your first date. You made sure to take your nighttime meds early and silence your alarms so there was nothing to bother you that night. Migraines notwithstanding, of course. You still had to bring your go bag just in case you needed anything acute, but you didn’t think twice about leaving the majority of it in the car, tucking just a couple individually packaged tablets into your pocket before accepting Sungchan’s hand that he offered to you after opening your car door for you.

Walking into the movie theater with him after he bought your tickets, you were about to start off in the direction that the usher had pointed you when your date stopped you.

“You want anything from concessions?” He nodded towards the long line of other couples, families, and groups of friends.

“I’m not big on overpriced popcorn,” you shook your head with a smile. “Thanks though, Sungchan.”

“You sure you don’t want a soda or candy? How’s your, you know, blood sugar?”

It was then that your polite smile morphed into a genuine, touched one, and you squeezed his hand that you were holding. “I’m doing good, promise. I made sure I ate before. But thank you, seriously. You’re really sweet.”

“Okay, but let me know if you need anything.”

“Sungchan, can I tell you something?” You ducked your head in towards him conspiratorially.

“Yeah, of course.”

You gently shook one side of your jacket, and a muffled rattling sound came from within it. “I snuck a bag of Skittles in,” you whispered to him.

He chuckled as you dropped your jacket back down and smoothed over the inside pocket inconspicuously. “Two steps ahead of me.”

“I just didn’t want to ruin our date if I got low.”

“It’s very thoughtful, thanks.”

“So are you!” You tried to reassure him.

The two of you entered where your movie would be showing, and picked your seats. The previews had already started, so you had to drop your voices to whispers.

“But you’re going to be good with the bright light, and the sounds?” Sungchan double-checked with you.

You nodded insistently. “You’re the one who made me compile a list of stuff that I could do, remember?”

“I know, but you also came to that party knowing that it was like 100% guaranteed to give you a migraine. So I think I’ve earned some skepticism.”

“Okay, fine. You got me there,” you sighed. “But I get nothing out of suggesting things that will give me migraines other than cutting our time together short. Which I don’t want to do.”

Sungchan shifted in his seat, and when you looked over at him, you could see a small, bashful smile on his face. “Good. Glad we got that cleared up.”

The previews finally ended, and the entire theater quieted down, including you two. You settled in to watch the movie, scooting closer to your date, looping your arm under his, and resting your head on his shoulder. He hesitantly leaned his head against the top of yours.

As you left the theater hand-in-hand with Sungchan, you two were deep in discussion about the movie, and in the back of your mind, you realized with a panic that you had far too much that you wanted to say that wouldn’t fit into the short ride back to your apartment. Not to mention that you didn’t want your night with him to be over yet.

“Hey.” You called for his attention as he opened up the passenger door for you, stopping before you got in the car.

“Hey.” He offered you a lopsided grin, still holding the door open with one hand and now caging you between him and the open car door.

If the parking lot wasn’t literally swarming with other movie theater patrons, you swore you would’ve grabbed him and kissed him stupid right there and then. But a family of five walked by at that moment, so you swallowed down the itch.

“We should go somewhere,” you suggested, trying to sound equal parts nonchalant and hopeful. Which was a weird combination, you knew, but you didn’t want to come across as too desperate. Again, a ridiculous sentiment, but it was engrained in you with social conditioning or whatever.

“We just went somewhere,” he pointed out knowingly, and you swore that was a smirk that you spotted on his face in the shadowy lighting afforded by the parking lot streetlamps.

“We should go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, despite how desperate you felt on the inside to just be around him right now. “Somewhere. Are you hungry?”

“Are you?”

You pressed your lips together in a thin line. “Well—”

Finally, he smiled, nodded towards the car, and said, “I know somewhere. Get in.”

Sungchan closed the car door after you before walking around to get into the driver’s side. He didn’t offer you any information or clues as to your new destination as he left the movie theater parking lot. The hockey captain drove with one hand casually holding the bottom of the steering wheel, the other tapping out the rhythm of whatever song was playing over his speakers onto his thigh. You dragged your eyes from his fingers to the passing scenery.

Honestly, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d been on a good date. Even the last date you’d been on was a distant memory. Lunch with some CompSci major your freshman year, a blind date set up by a mutual acquaintance. He just talked over you the whole time. You didn’t deign to go on a second date with him. It wasn’t that your migraines made it impossible to date—they hadn’t even come up at the date with the CompSci major (mostly because he didn’t give you the opportunity to say much of anything)—but you knew that it was always going to be something to get out of way. Either up front or at some point down the line. And it was exhausting enough for you to have to completely restructure your life around them, how could you really ask some stranger who barely knew you—or didn’t at all—to consider doing the same? It felt like it just made your dating pool even narrower, an added standard that you didn’t even get to pick.

But with Sungchan, it had happened in the worst way possible, you disappeared on him because you were having a migraine, without even having told him anything about them. And not only was he more than chill about it, he stayed with you through your entire full-blown migraine. Listened to you explain every ailment, medication, and medication complication that you have, and just tucked all that information away to keep track of your wellbeing. Taken it all in stride and made it look easy. And that was before your first date. It almost made you angry. Not at Sungchan, but at the fact that other people had ever made you feel like an inconvenience.

The car slowing to a stop knocked you from your thoughts, and you didn’t even realize that you had been silent for the entire trip. Sungchan didn’t seem to mind, though, as he hadn’t tried to start a conversation either. He put the car in park as you looked around, trying to gauge where exactly you were.

“Are we… on campus?” You turned to him with an eyebrow raised.

He was already out of the car, though, jogging around to get your door. As he opened it for you, he tilted his head innocently, “What was that?”

You stepped out, taking in your surroundings. “Are we at a campus parking garage?”

“Specifically, the top floor of Evergreen Parking Garage,” Sungchan clarified, rolling the passenger window down.

Evergreen Parking Garage was a commuter-only parking facility, meaning that this level was empty this late at night. It was also located at the furthest reaches of the north block of campus, which bordered a nature preserve, meaning that while on one side was your university campus, the other side was entirely evergreen trees. Hence the name.

Sungchan had parked on the side that faced the nature preserve, and as you turned to question your date as to why exactly he’d taken you to campus, you were instead greeted by the sight of him hunched over to lean into the open passenger window, seemingly messing around with the audio controls of the still-running car.

You tilted your head to one side, then the other as you just watched him struggle for a moment before finally speaking up. “What uh… What are you doing, Sungchan?”

He banged his head on the frame of the window as he went to stand back up. “Fuck! Ow…”

Covering your hand to muffle your giggles, you waited patiently for him to turn around and answer you.

Still clutching his head, he said with a sheepish smile, “Just give me a sec, sorry. Technical difficulties.”

And with that, he opened the door to properly sit in the passenger seat, futzing with his phone and the car radio. Finally, there was music playing from the speakers as opposed to the radio station ads, and he turned the volume up before getting back out of the car and shutting the door. With both the driver and passenger windows rolled down, you could hear the song clearly.

“I was originally going to try to take you to this lookout, but there were other cars there, so I had to keep driving by it and oh my god why did I tell you that—” He scratched the back of his head nervously. “Anyway, since we didn’t get to dance at the party…”

Sungchan offered his hand out to you, and you set yours atop it. The upbeat song that had been playing finished just then, switching to a much slower, softer one. You stepped in closer, smiling up at him as you looped your free arm around his neck. His other hand settled on your hip, and he slowly started leading you in an uncertain sway of sorts.

You let out an airy chuckle, “Was this really the kind of dancing you had in mind for a frat party?”

“Would you believe me if I said yes?” He questioned.

“Would you believe me if I said that I believed you?”

“No.”

You snickered. “Smart man.”

“But this is good, too. Better, even.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, there’s not a bunch of other drunk, sweaty, loud people everywhere knocking into us. I don’t have to worry about somebody spilling beer on me, or other guys looking at you, or the DJ picking something bad. Or you getting a migraine.” Sungchan slotted his fingers with yours. “I just get to think about you.”

You rested your head on his chest, eyes zoning out on your linked hands. It was his right hand, so his pinky finger couldn’t quite fold down along with the others. “Yeah. I like this, too,” you agreed softly.

A cool breeze gently blew across your cheek that wasn’t resting on Sungchan’s chest, and you were glad for the warmth of him pressed against your front. Your feet awkwardly bumped into each other, making you chuckle, and he apologized with a nervous laugh.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him. “I haven’t exactly taken any ballroom dancing classes. Have you?”

“Well...”

You jerked your head back to look him in the face. “You have?”

“You know how Greek life has those formals every year?”

“You’re not in a frat...”

“No, I’m not. But freshman year, Nu Chi had pitched in for this dance teacher and— God, I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Sungchan said regretfully, tilting his head back to look up in embarrassment.

“Sungchan, come on!” You pleaded.

“Hendery swore me to secrecy...”

“Well now you have to tell me!”

“Hendery’s date couldn’t make it to one of the lessons, so he asked me to fill in for her...”

Your jaw dropped with delight, “Was his date an Amazon? How did that work? He couldn’t have possibly dipped you! Or twirled you!”

“She was taller than him, to be fair,” he admitted. “Nothing that couldn’t be adjusted for with some thick soles, but, you know...”

“You’re such a good friend, Sungchan,” you said through a couple of giggles, imagining the two of them attempting the aforementioned twirls and dips.

He dropped his head, shaking it. “Right, thanks.”

“So I guess I should be leading then, hm?” You teased, your feet bumping his again in that moment.

“I feel like you’d lead us over the edge of this parking deck, Y/N,” he joked.

Before you could make a retort, he stepped back from you to gently twirl you around by the hand, and a cross between a surprised yelp and a laugh tumbled from your mouth. As he brought you back into his chest, you could barely think over the joyful buzzing in your head that resonated out to every square inch of your body.

“Okay, okay, I guess you can lead,” you surrendered, looping your arm back around his neck again.

After some time, the songs had picked up tempo again, but you and Sungchan were long past actually dancing to them. You were more so just holding each other, leisurely swaying, and from here you got to listen to the sounds of his breathing. He’d taken to rubbing absentminded circles into your hip with his thumb, and the fingers of your arm that was around his neck had dipped below the material of his collar, resting on his bare skin.

“Sungchan?” You murmured.

“Yes?” He responded, his voice rumbling right under your ear.

“Thank you for not making me do this in front of a bunch of other cars at the other lookout.”

He let out a couple quiet laughs, his chest shaking with each. “You’re welcome. I figured all of the teens making out in their cars also didn’t want to watch us do this either.”

You mock gasped, pretending to sound scandalized, “You were going to take me to a lover’s lookout? On the first date? Jung Sungchan…”

“Who are you, my grandma? Nobody calls it that anymore.” He pinched your side. “And only because it’s actually got a great view over the city and—”

“I’m kidding, Sungchan.” You pinched him back, lightly, on the nape of the neck. “Besides, I wouldn’t have been opposed to a trip to a lover’s lookout with you anyway…”

You heard the breath hitch in his throat, then Sungchan swallowed and inhaled through his nose, before he finally spoke, “Really?”

His grip on your hip tightened, sending a bolt of electricity along your skin out from the contact point. You brought your head out of his chest and used your arm around his neck to draw him in even closer.

“Really,” you echoed, blatantly staring at his lips now that they were centimeters away from yours. “And it looks like we’ve got our own right here.”

Then Sungchan was using his hold on your hip to push you back step by step until your back was against the side of his car. Your own arm around his neck kept him anchored to you as he stood hovering over you, blotting out any light that would’ve come from the light post above you. Your noses were almost touching, your breaths mingling in the negligible space between your mouths. You were looking at Sungchan’s eyes now, usually a warm, deep brown, now all inky blackness in the dark of night, and staring down at your own mouth. Your tongue instinctually darted out to wet your lips, and that seemed to be the final straw.

His mouth on yours was desperate, but not desperate to get laid, like your previous lover’s lookout banter might imply. Like he was just desperate for you. He stole kiss after kiss from your lips, but never forced his tongue into your mouth, nor moved his hands anywhere else. Despite leaning more and more of his weight forward onto you, utterly pinning you to the car, he kept his bruising grip on your hip and never let go of your hand.

You parted your mouth with a bedraggled gasp of his name, and he finally took this as an invite to slip his tongue into the mix. You shifted to rest the hand that was laced with his above your head, on the roof of the sedan, giving his hand a squeeze. He squeezed your hand back.

Turning your head and breaking the kiss, you hoped he’d get the idea as you continued laying there half-spread out under him. He did, thankfully, kissing from the corner of your mouth across your cheek and down your jaw and neck.

“Sung…chan…” You breathed out his name, stroking the back of his head with your free hand as his lips latched onto a spot at the base of your neck.

Trailing your hand down further, you snuck it up under the hem of his shirt, feeling over the expanse of his chest and stomach. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You pulled the article of clothing up towards his head insistently, and he detached from your neck for the two of you to jointly strip him of it. Oh fuck yeah, hockey players. You truly didn’t know if he looked or felt better, but you couldn’t ogle him for long, because he was back on top of you as soon as he’d thrown the shirt into the front seat via the open passenger window beside you. His lips were so warm on yours, his skin even hotter under your touch now as you unabashedly felt up every inch of it and the muscles underneath.

But soon that wasn’t enough either, and you were fumbling at his pants button. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating down into your own chest, as his hand snapped around your wrist.

“Ahh…” He hissed regretfully.

“What?” You looked up at him with wide eyes.

“I can’t get my dick out in public.”

You glanced at the car behind you, with its tinted windows, then back at Sungchan. He met your eyes, then shrugged. “That’ll work.”

It was a mad scramble to get the door to the backseat open, so much so that you accidentally smacked Sungchan in the leg with said door. After lots of apologies through giggles, both of you were in the backseat with the doors closed and locked. Sungchan had the task of awkwardly reaching forward over the console to roll the windows back up first, during which you made a couple observations about his backseat, which you hadn’t seen much of before. His practice bag for hockey was back here—which was different than his gear bag, as you’d already been told. The gear bag actually had his equipment that he needed to play with like mouth guards, sticks, and all of that, while his practice bag had more personal stuff like changes of clothes or hygiene products. You figured his gear bag was either in the trunk or at the rink, as he didn’t always need to carry it back and forth with him. But other than the practice bag and a couple of reusable grocery bags on the floor, the backseat was pretty clean. You were genuinely impressed, especially because he made it sound like he tended to chauffeur a lot of his teammates/roommates around frequently.

Sungchan eventually reentered the backseat fully, focusing a content, closed-lip smile on you. You’d taken it upon yourself to lay down on the seat, your knees propped up by your feet. He settled in to kneel on the same cushion as your feet, but just rested an arm on your knees and his chin atop that forearm to gaze down at you, still smiling.

“What? What’s that smile for?” You asked, starting to feel a bit self-conscious.

“Nothing, I just—” He reached both his hands out towards you, fingers spread, and you got the idea, linking yours with them. “I hope you don’t get the wrong idea. I want this to be a real thing, Y/N. Like, I don’t just want to sleep with you. I don’t even do this kind of stuff—car sex on the first date in a campus parking garage?—literally ever. I’m just kinda crazy about you. I know for most people usually it’s the opposite; you know, they save it for later for really important people. They try to make it special, but I know it’ll be special just because it’s you.”

“Sungchan... I’ve never done something like this either,” you admitted, squeezing both of his hands tight. “I think I’m just kinda crazy about you too.”

“Okay. Cool.” He beamed at you, and you felt your insides turn to mush in that moment. You didn’t think they’d ever un-mush again.

“Now can you please take my clothes off before I spontaneously combust?”

“Fuck. Yeah.” He nodded, immediately turning serious as his brow furrowed and he leaned forward to lock his lips with yours again, propping himself up with one hand to hover above you.

You let your knees fall apart to give him room to settle in between your legs. He pulled at your jacket first, and you sat up to help yank it off, dropping it to the floor with his practice bag. With you no longer laying down, he could use two hands to get the next part, your top. His fingertips skimmed along your skin as he grabbed the hem. You broke the kiss so he could start pulling the clothing up your body—

A loud knock against the driver’s side window quite literally made you scream, and Sungchan jerked up and hit his head once again, this time on the roof of the car. You tugged your shirt back down to cover you, ducking to lay flat on the seat as Sungchan looked at you with panic in his eyes.

Another knock came at the window, this time accompanied by a man’s voice, “Campus security! Roll the window down or I’m going to ask you to turn the car off and step out!”

“Just a second!” Sungchan yelled back, a noticeable crack in his voice. He had a difficult time maneuvering his lanky body over the console fully into the driver’s seat again.

“Now!” The man called out again. “Three! Two!”

Sungchan didn’t have time to put on his shirt before ‘one,’ and he rushed to roll the window down. A flashlight was immediately shone into the car, and you didn’t doubt your own visibility to the security officer. You were remaining laying down for your own mental wellbeing at this point. You didn’t think that you could deal with looking this man in the eye right now.

You didn’t know if it was wisdom or embarrassment that kept your date from saying anything, but he thankfully didn’t speak until spoken to, not offering up any incriminating information. After five entire seconds of silence, the officer let out an audible sigh.

“No overnight parking in this garage,” he said, his tone making it very clear that he knew that was not what was going on. “I’ll be back in five minutes and if you’re still here, you’re getting a ticket.”

“Yes, sir,” Sungchan replied.

“I’m sure that the captain of our hockey team wouldn’t want to get put on probation at the beginning of the season.”

“N-No, sir.” His voice cracked again.

The security officer grunted, but said nothing more. You heard Sungchan roll the window back up, then the sound of another car driving away. Slowly, Sungchan turned around to look at you over the console with wide, horrified eyes.

“He knew who I was…” He whispered. “That was the most terrifying 45 seconds of my life.”

“You’re famous, Sungchan,” you teased, sitting up in the backseat now that the coast was clear.

“Yeah, and fame has got so many perks so far.”

“Almost got into your first scandal already.” You clicked your tongue disapprovingly. “Caught with a girl in your backseat. What will the fans say?”

“Considering my fans are all frat bros, probably something along the lines of wolf whistles and incoherent, congratulatory lewd jeering.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, able to picture that perfectly considering you’d already gotten a taste at the first home game you’d gone to. “Sounds about right.”

“Anyway, I should take you home before that guy comes back.”

“Good idea.” You slipped your jacket back on.

“Are you going to come up here or am I your chauffeur?”

“I suppose I’ll sit up there with you,” you sighed, opening the backseat to get out and into the front normally since there was no security man around.

Back in the passenger seat, you handed Sungchan’s shirt back to him, “Here, have some decency. You’re the captain of the hockey team, you know.”

“I’m sorry, who was going to spontaneously combust if we didn’t get naked in the next 0.2 seconds?” He scoffed, pulling his top back on.

“I don’t recall.”

“Sure.”

“And who’s still hard in their jeans right now?”

“Don’t remind me, I have to drive like this,” he groaned, taking the car out of park with a shake of his head.

As Sungchan drove with one hand, the other reached over to take yours, lacing his fingers together with yours.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 6

Just a few days later, and you were at the rink again, eagerly watching the hockey game in front of you. Chenle was beside you, continuing his constant sports commentary on every play that happened. You still mostly tuned it out, but you were pretty sure you at least understood most of the basic rules that Taeyong had explained to you before. You kept your eyes on Sungchan, cheering him on along with the other various Nu Chi brothers around you and other fans in the stands. It wasn’t as full of a house as it had been for the first home game, but you were perfectly content to have a slightly quieter environment.

Sungchan happened to skate by your section as everyone was resetting their positions, giving you a wave through the clear barrier. You gave him a slightly bashful but nevertheless bright grin as you waved back.

“So are you two like... dating now?” Hendery asked from your other side, leaned forward with both of his elbows on his knees as he watched the game. He looked back at you over his shoulder with a shit-eating grin, though, one that made you roll your eyes.

“I don’t know. We’ve been on a date. I mean, there was the Halloween party, but I got a migraine so I don’t think that really counts, so— I don’t have to explain myself to you!” You scowled at him, shoving him away by his shoulder.

He laughed as he let himself get jostled around in his seat from the push, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just curious. Unlike your bestie over there, I think you two are adorable.”

“What?” You looked over at Chenle, who Hendery had pointed at.

Chenle had apparently been listening enough to be able to jump in to defend himself. “It’s not what it sounds like. I think you two are great, promise.”

You turned back to your other friend. “Then what the hell are you talking about, Hendery?”

“He just doesn’t want to lose,” the Nu Chi member explained. “I pegged Sungchan’s huge crush on you on day 1 of Dr. Son’s class. Once the Phanta Phour stuff started, I knew that boy had no chance. Chenle just didn’t think you’d ever... hold on, how’d he put it... be into uh, ‘Neanderthal frat-bro-in-law types.’”

“I was maybe a bit tipsy...” Chenle added in.

“So you made a bet on if Sungchan and I would get together? In four whole years?” You looked from left to right between them.

“Loser has to buy winner a 12-pack,” Hendery confirmed with that same grin. “When Phantasmagorical Phriday ended this year, I really thought I’d lost. But then you turned up at the game last week and I figured Sungchan just might score himself a buzzer beater.”

“You two need to get better hobbies,” you declared with a snort.

“This so counts as sudden-death OT, but whatever,” Chenle scoffed under his breath.

You smacked him across the chest. “And don’t call my dating life ‘sudden death’ either.”

“Hey.” He said softly, grabbing your arm, and you turned your head to meet his gaze. “I really was worried about you going to the Halloween party with your head. I swear.”

“I know, LeLe,” you nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “You did some great wingmanning once we got there.”

The brief flash of sincerity you got from your best friend was over as quick as it had come, as you heard the crash of helmets on the ice, and both your focuses were drawn back to the game. Two players had collided into each other and the clear barrier right in front of your faces. You grimaced sympathetically as you tried to identify the player from your team. 23— Jeno, ah, he’d be alright. And you were right, he took off almost immediately as the other guy was left behind still dazed.

At the end of the game, with the buzz of another win in your veins and the anticipation of seeing Sungchan thrumming along your skin, you bounced on your heels as you waited in the lobby. You weren't paying attention to the ecstatic, dramatic recollections that Chenle and the Nu Chi brothers were giving of specific plays around you, your gaze entirely focused on the locker room exit.

The very first player to leave was Sungchan, his eyes already scanning the crowd. Without a second thought, you darted over to him, ignoring the couple of whoops and whistles you two got from your friends.

Sungchan beamed down at you as he went to pull you into a hug, and you were immediately enveloped in the smell of the freshly washed clothes that you’d caught last time. This time, though, there was the distinct, crisp smell of ice rink ice under it as well, reminding you of when you’d go ice skating with friends.

“Hey,” you smiled up at him as he let you go, but didn’t step back very far. “You played really good again. I’m pretty sure. A bit more sure than I was last time.”

He was still grinning, looking down at the floor then back up at you before he responded, “Thank you. And I don’t really expect you to become a hockey pro or anything if all that doesn’t interest you. As long as you don’t expect me to remember what death of the author is.”

“This was only my second game, have some faith in me!” You cried out indignantly. “And no, I don’t expect you to become a full-blown literary critic either.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he apologized through a couple of poorly suppressed giggles. “I do believe in you. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to learn boring sports stuff for me.”

“I do want to be able to follow the basics of a game without Chenle or Taeyong annotating it for me, at least.”

“Oh, yeah, you can definitely do that. Might need to come to a few more games, though...”

You nodded giddily. “Just let me know when the home games are and I’m there.”

“Yo!” A voice had called from the gaggle of guys heading towards the exit. You didn’t even realize that the rest of the team had left the locker room in the time that you’d been talking to Sungchan.

While you couldn’t tell who had gotten your attention, it was Donghyuck that asked, “Are you two coming or are you just going to keep making moony eyes at each other all night?”

“Yeah, Sungchan, you’re our ride!” Yangyang yelled out from somewhere.

“DD!” Jeno cheered.

“I’ll drive you two,” Mark offered with a shake of his head.

“Shotgun!” The two of them immediately dibs-ed in unison.

“Sorry, bitches, I’m his little,” Donghyuck declared. “That means eternal dibs on shotgun in Mark’s car.”

The frat president scoffed, “You only give a shit about that when it directly benefits you.”

“You guys go ahead,” Sungchan cut into their bickering. “We’re right behind you.”

After they had all filed out, he looked back down at you, a nervous smile worming across his face. “Sorry about that...”

“It’s okay,” you said. “So... you ready to go?”

The two of you had already discussed going to the after-game celebrations with the team before this. Sungchan texted you last night to check in and make sure you’d be okay with going from the loud game to a noisy bar/pool hall with a bunch of frat guys after. You’d assured him that you’d be okay as long as you sat away from any music speakers at the bar, and he’d in turn made you promise to tell him if you needed to leave early.

However, he now halted you as you were slowly turning towards the exit. “Wait, I want to try this again.”

With a sneaking suspicion of what he was about to do, you assured him, “Sungchan, you don’t have to—”

“Let me do this. Please.” He gave you those same eyes that had convinced you to go to a frat party in the first place, and you were squaring your shoulders back to face him, giving him a firm nod.

“Okay. Go for it.”

He asked casually, “So, did you drive yourself?”

You had to hold back a laugh, covering your mouth to straighten your face before replying coyly, “Oh, me? I walked. My apartment is close.”

“So, the team all goes out to this bar after home games. It’s a pretty sleazy dive bar, and I know it’s a Thursday night, but I’d really like for you to come with me. I’ll buy you a... soda.”

“I would love to come, Sungchan,” you giggled, adjusting your purse strap.

“Awesome,” he grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

As you walked up to the passenger side of his car with him, you suddenly realized something. “Wait, did you have your car last time, too?”

“Maybe?” He rubbed the back of his neck, reaching for the door handle to open it for you.

“Then why did you walk me home?”

“To spend more time with you?”

You stole a quick kiss before ducking into the passenger seat.

Squished into one side of a booth with Sungchan’s arm around you, you chatted happily with Chenle, Ten, and Sicheng, who were sitting opposite from you. The team and cheer section were spread out between a couple booths and tables near each other, a few of them up playing pool too. You sipped on your soda between discussions about tonight’s game, upcoming games, classes, or whatever else struck you all. Currently, you were locked in a conversation with Ten about the most recent assigned reading in a class that you two shared together this semester.

“I thought that scene had a lot of great allusions back to the earlier one with her mother and the pie baking,” you gushed.

“Really?” Ten tilted his head curiously. “I was seeing it more as a continuation of the cannibalism-sex-love metaphor, since they were eating figs, you know.”

You nodded knowingly. “That’s true. Everything’s about sex—”

“Except sex.” You two finished quoting your professor in unison.

“And then with figs, there’s the Bible interpretation, of course,” you continued.

“Always the Bible.”

“We can never escape what John Milton did for Christian fanfiction, truly.”

“But I do like the pie scene connection the more that I think about it, actually.” Ten knocked back the rest of his cocktail. “And, tying her mother into the cannibalism metaphor could be a fascinating angle, too.”

Your eyes widened as you were practically vibrating your seat with excitement now. “Yeah, her earliest memory being of food, parental love, and harm...”

“Anyway, I need a refill.” Your friend shook his glass of ice with a smile. “Be back. Good chat as always, Y/N.”

Chenle and Sicheng scooted out of the booth to let Ten out, the former heading off towards the restrooms while the co-captain followed his roommate to the bar, leaving just you and Sungchan. You continued musing over the new connections you’d just made in the text as you turned your gaze back over to Sungchan beside you. He was already looking at you, a fond half-smile on his face.

“Hi.” He said quietly.

“Hi,” you replied, just as quiet.

Sungchan took a swig of his drink, then eyed yours. “You haven’t drunk any water since we get here.”

He’d been sure to not only order your promised soda of choice, but also water, and as you now looked over at your two cups, you could tell that the water had not been touched at all while the soda was practically empty.

“Oh uh, I guess I haven’t.”

“Drink some.” He pushed it towards you insistently. “Can’t have you getting kidney stones on my watch.”

“Okay, okay.” You acquiesced easily, switching your straw over to that glass and chugging a quarter of it in one go. “Better?”

“Much.” He nodded in satisfaction. “So what were you and Ten saying about pies and sex or whatever? Sex isn’t about sex?”

“Oh, it’s just something one of our professors says a lot. ‘Everything is about sex except sex.’ For lit analysis. In literature, pretty much everything is about sex. Or can be. You can turn like, anything in a piece of text into an innuendo or euphemism if you wanted to. Except for sex. Like, if a sex scene is included in a piece of literature, it’s not actually about the sex that’s being depicted. The sex is meant to represent something else. Like politics, or social structures, or whatever other themes are present in the work. Unless you’re just reading porn. But even then, there’s artistic merit to erotica, and plenty to be learned about the social structures at the time it was written, too.”

Sungchan hadn’t blinked the entire time you’d been rambling on, and upon you finally stopping, blinked in rapid succession as he seemed to come to from a daze. “Wow. Uh, interesting. Filing that away with death of the author.”

“Sungchan...” You leaned in to whisper, placing a hand on the inside of his thigh, just above his knee. His leg jumped, knocking his knee into the tabletop. Your hand had narrowly avoided being smashed too, saved only by its position curled around his leg instead of directly on top. You didn’t move it up or down now though, simply tapping your index finger against the loose material of his sweatpants as you giggled. “What are you thinking about?”

He cleared his throat a couple of times. “How you still have three-quarters of that glass of water left to drink.”

You laughed, slumping to relax into his side and pulling your hand back up to a more casual position on top of his leg. With your other hand, you grabbed your water. “Alright, fine.”

Not too long after your water had been drained, Sungchan was driving you home. Some of your other friends had taken off as well, and you didn't put up too much of a protest when he offered. As your familiar building came into view, you suddenly remembered something.

“Oh, visitor’s parking is over there. Sorry, forgot to mention before.” You pointed to a few parking spots painted with yellow lines instead of white, further away from the apartment entrances than the resident parking. “They’re a bit picky. Chenle got towed after like, five minutes one time.”

“Got it. Thanks.” Sungchan smoothly turned the wheel to pull into one of the open visitor’s spots.

Your reason for showing it to him was two-fold. One, to let him know you hoped he’d be coming over more often, so he’d need that information for future reference. And two, for perhaps less innocent ulterior motives tonight. Truly, your apartment complex only towed people after dark. Overnight visitors. Chenle’s five-minute tow had been a fluke.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he said with no prompting, and you had to hold in a sigh of relief.

Instead, you gave him a genuine smile. “Thanks, Sungchan.”

“I don’t think I thanked you for coming tonight. To the game.” He slowly meandered up the sidewalk with you, hand holding yours.

“Thanks for inviting me again. I had a lot of fun.” You squeezed his hand.

Your front door loomed in the not-so-distant distance.

“Uh, are you busy this weekend?” He rushed to ask. “I have Saturday morning practice, at 7:30, but it’s over at 9:00, and after that I’m free.”

So that’s why he had texted you at seven in the morning to congratulate you on winning Phantasmagorical Phriday.

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to do something, just pick from the list I sent you. Surprise me, hm?”

“Will do.”

You were finally on your front welcome mat, and watched his face fall as he seemed to be drawing a blank about how else to prolong your night. But you had an idea.

You didn’t let an alarm or anything else possibly have the chance to interrupt you, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his mouth down to yours. He stumbled forward at you suddenly yanking him off-balance, catching himself with one hand on your front door and the other on your doorframe. Then, he dropped a hand to the small of your back, drawing you in even closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.

Disconnected just enough to murmur against his lips, you asked, “Do you want to come in?”

“Please?” He replied with a nearly sheepish chuckle.

“So polite,” you quipped.

You gave him one more peck before turning around to unlock your door and drag him in by the arm.

➠ sequel | series masterlist | blog masterlist

[pasteidolons]

𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔩𝔧𝔥 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳𝔦

pairing: lee jihoon x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, smut (later routes), supernatural members: choi seungcheol, wen junhui, kwon soonyoung, jeon wonwoo, lee seokmin, kim mingyu, boo seungkwan, lee chan, hong jisoo, xu minghao, choi hansol warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, major character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing, medical procedures, political upset, historical inaccuracies for the sake of plot progression word count: 20k

taglist: @reiofsuns2001, @lovrehani, @hipsdofangirl

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳𝔦𝔦

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 7𝔱𝔥, 666 - ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Sometime after the incident between Jihoon and you, you begin to move northward, back to Hanseong. Nearly a month after its liberation from the Goguryeo forces, the Hwarang settled on a private estate just outside of the city’s walls. Youngmin had been reluctant to return to the battlefields, but after several conversations with Jihoon, he’d become convinced otherwise. 

Until the preparations to siege Pyongyang were in place, you would be set up in Hanseong to train. Hansol had gone to a town some ways south to train in Tang weaponry with one of Wong Kunhang’s assistants, Hao Chujun. Seungcheol and Soonyoung had left with the Fury Corps along the naval route to Bakjak as they were not permitted to travel to Hanseong. 

“Do you know where the Gukseon Kwak is?” A voice calls out to you, and you turn to see Kim Dohoon standing there, his eyes wide. 

“I think he’s reading in his room,” you have to think of when you last saw him. Weight shifting from foot to foot you try not to look concerned, “Is something the matter?” 

“It’s nothing in particular, but…” There’s a peculiar expression on his face you can’t quite grasp. “I can’t shake this worrying feeling like he’s lost the will for us to fight again since the last time we were here…” 

“Hmm…” You purse your lips, “I don’t think that’s the case. I can’t say that he’s completely lost his will to fight.”

Dohoon is hesitant to respond as he stays quiet, eventually speaking again, “You’re probably right, huh? I mean, Commander Lee is still giving his all for him. I’m sure he’ll return to his old self soon enough.” With that, Dohoon quickly scurries off, racing back into the depths of the manor. 

As you watch him, you can’t help but let his words sting you a little. Youngmin certainly had lost some of that ambitious fire he’d always had in his eyes as of late. If he wasn’t holed up reading in his room, he’d spend time in solitude out in the garden. Yet, you hold on hope that his confidence had deflated only a little after the battle in Hanseong. 

Prompted by the meeting with Dohoon, you decide to pay the Chief a visit a few hours later. 

“I’ve brought you some tea,” You say quietly as you slide open the door. Youngmin sits behind his desk, nose buried in a bound novel, and he greets you with a smile. “What are you reading?” 

“Oh, this is Jemangmaega,” he lowers the book, closing it but saving his place with a scrap piece of parchment. “A collection of poems but more critical than that if one reads further into the text. I practically know them by heart now, but with each time I reread them I find I learn something new.”

“When I was younger I wanted to be just like Kim Yushin– he fought for others, more so than just himself,” his grin lasts for a moment before fading, “But I suppose dreaming about being a great commander doesn’t just make you one… I wish I realized that a bit sooner.”

“What are you talking about?” You tilt your head, “You’ve only just begun.” 

“... How’s Jihoon?” He asks, not seeming to have heard your prior statement. 

“I think he’s in his room writing something.” You state, “Probably writing orders for Hansol, he’s off with Hao Chujun in Kyeju, you know.” 

“Ah…” Youngmin sighs, “I keep giving Jihoon so much to do.”

“I don’t think he’s pushing himself too hard,” you say quickly, “And nothing makes him happier than being able to help you. That’s just the kind of guy he is.” 

Youngmin chuckles at that, “You’ve turned out to be quite a page to him, haven’t you? I think you know him quite well by now.” 

“You think so?” You feel your cheeks warm at his certainty. “That’s right… I was supposed to be his page, wasn’t I?”

“To be truthful, I never thought that you’d be with us for this long…” Before you knew it, the two of you had begun to reminisce about your time in Seorabeol. Back then, you never could have guessed where fate would take you. There have been constant challenges, but you thought that’d you’d eventually return to your lives in the capital. 

“I know things will work out. The Commander will get us through this.” 

Youngmin responds with a melancholy laugh, “Don’t you think you’re asking quite a bit of him?”

“... What do you mean?”

Before Youngmin has any time to answer, the door opens with a snap, Wonwoo and Jihoon briskly walking inside, their faces tense and drawn. 

“We have to go. Now.” Jihoon says sharply, “The place’s surrounded.” 

“There’s two, maybe three hundred of them out there. We came in through the back so they wouldn’t see us,” Wonwoo says solemnly.

“If it were only twenty or thirty then we could take them… But we don’t have time to call Hansol and his men. Guess we’ll have to come up with something here. You two take Youngmin and go on ahead,” Jihoon says quickly. 

“What?!” You speak up, “Not even you can take on that many people. And it’s still daytime…” 

“A majority of the soldiers out there are archers,” Wonwoo says as both you and he move toward the door in an effort to block it should Jihoon try to get out. 

Youngmin, having been in quiet contemplation since their arrival, speaks out, “You needn't do that, Jihoon. I’ll go and have them take me to their headquarters.” 

“What the hell?!” Jihoon shouts out incredulously, “You might as well just paint a target on your chest!” 

“I won’t introduce myself as Kwak Youngmin of the Hwarang, of course,” Youngmin sighs as he rises to his feet, “I’ll tell them that we’re soldiers here to just secure the location. At any rate, it should buy you enough time to get away.” 

While you and Wonwoo lay shocked into silence, Jihoon doesn’t relent, “Listen to yourself! You really think they’ll let you waltz in and fuck with them like that?! You know how they work! There’s no way in hell that those bastards don’t hate our guts! They won’t believe that shit about us being soldiers for a second!”

“Well, even if I do get captured, I have the status of a Lord. They can’t just kill me.” 

“You have got to be kidding me.” Jihoon’s face is a near vibrant red at the moment, “You think they’ll give a shit about a title you have from the Kingdom they’re against?! You go out there, you’re signing your death warrant. You really think I’ll just let you do that?!” 

No matter what the Commander yells at him, Youngmin’s expression doesn’t change. 

“I’ve made my decision. Nothing you say can convince me otherwise.” 

Jihoons fists begin to shake by his sides. In all your time with the Hwarang, you’ve never seen either of them act like this before. 

“No! No! What the hell are the Hwarang going to do without their Chief?!” Jihoon shouts, “You’re coming with me even if I have to knock you out and drag you along! You have a responsibility to the Hwarang! You don’t get to die and run away from that!” He’s screaming at Youngmin, his white knuckled fists now gripping the front of the other man’s robes and his eyes red with held-back tears.

Yet his fury and pleas break across Youngmin’s impassable calm like wind against a mountain. 

“This is a direct order!” Youngmin says sternly as Jihoon’s hands drop from his robes, “You will go to Kyeju to meet with the rest of our men. The two of you will accompany him as well.” Jihoon stumbles back a step or two at the force of Youngmin’s voice. 

“You’re going to tell me what to do…? What the hell is this?!” Jihoon asks near incredulously. 

“Aren’t your Chief’s orders absolute?” Youngmin asks with a tilt of his head, “You’ve ordered men to kill themselves, or to become Furies from disobeying that rule. Are you somehow an exception? Is that the sort of warrior you want to be?” 

Jihoon says nothing. 

As long as he’d been commander, Jihoon strove to lead by example. He lived by the O Gye and demanded that others do likewise to groom the Hwarang into true warriors. There’s no doubt Youngmin had counted on that fact. He meant to do it to keep Jihoon alive.

Youngmin looks to you and Wonwoo, stepping a few paces in your direction, “I want you to leave with Jihoon. If you take too long, they’ll attack and my surrender will mean nothing.” He gives you two a small shove to get you moving, Wonwoo turns to look at Jihoon.

“Commander… Let’s go.” 

He only stands, chewing his lip, until Youngmin lays his hands on his friend’s shoulders, giving him a warm smile. 

“Hey, Jihoon… Let it go. Let me go.” Youngmin says softly, “You’ve run yourself ragged trying to earn me the status and fame that I wanted. You even turned yourself into a Fury… It kills me to see you do all of these things for me… I’m not worth it.”

Jihoon doesn’t meet his friend’s gaze, he instead blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears, and stares desperately at the floor. Then he swallows the lump in his throat, his voice tight and strained when he speaks, “I– If I do this, then what have I been fighting for all these years? I became a warrior, served our Kingdom… I won numerous battles and killed men… All because I thought you’d be there at the end with all of us…” 

“I’m sorry,” Youngmin’s voice reflects the softness of the other’s, “I brought you here, I did this to you. Thinking back on it, it was all sort of a dream. We weren’t real warriors yet but we strapped on our swords and went to work.” His voice is warm, but that seems to make it even more difficult for Jihoon to let go.

The room is still before the commander speaks, “Jeon… Send a message to our remaining men. We need to secure an escape route.” His gaze then falls to you, “Stay here. Once we’re ready, I’ll come get you.” 

“Okay,” you nod quickly. And with that, Wonwoo and Jihoon leave, and Youngmin and you are alone once more. 

“Take this with you,” Youngmin says as he begins to reach for something in his robes. After a moment, he hands you a small cloth bag, it clinks as it rests in your palm. 

“What is it?”

“Money. To help you escape. I wasn’t able to do anything for you. This is a token of my appreciation, for all you’ve done for us. Please, take it.” His warmth still lingers on the fabric of the bag, you feel a lump rise in your throat. “You still have time. I’ll tell Jihoon. Once you get away, go somewhere safe and look for Doctor Namekawa… Just forget you had anything to do with us. Marry someone you love and live a peaceful life. Find happiness.” 

While you appreciate his kind gesture you cannot find it within yourself to follow his guidance, “No, I won’t run. I want to go with Jihoon. I’m… I’m his page…” Your teeth catch your lip, afraid that if you say any more you may cry. Instead, you look up to Youngmin and do your best to smile. 

His eyes are warm as he looks to you, “Our Commander’s been blessed with some great friends. I’ll be counting on you, then. Take care of him for me.” 

Eventually, Jihoon and Wonwoo return. They gather you and the rest of the men in an outer courtyard on the premises, including Junghwan and Dohoon. 

“What?!” Junghwan shouts, “We’re going to leave Chief behind? Is that true Commander?!” 

“Chief’s orders,” Jihoon says sternly, “You’re all going to escape this place and I’ll be right behind you.” 

“If he just surrenders, then his cover will be blown immediately!” Junghwan insists, “At least here, I could remain by his si–” 

“I said, ‘Chief’s orders’! Or do you have shit in your ears?!” Jihoon snaps, “Don’t you dare put Youngmin’s efforts in vain with your stupid suggestions!”

Junghwan looks as if he wants to respond, but instead he looks down as he tightens his fists and shakes. 

Just then, Dohoon says, “I’m going to stay. I understand they’re the Chief’s orders. However, as a warrior of the Hwarang, I cannot abandon the Chief.” 

“Kim Dohoon!” Wonwoo raises his voice, only to be interrupted. 

“Dohoon you bastard…” Jihoon frowns, angrily tapping the hilt of his sword, “You really want this steel in your gut right now?”

“No! It’s not like that,” Dohoon’s eyes burn with intense vigor as he glares back at Jihoon. “I understand you, more than anyone else, want to remain here. But the Chief entrusted the Hwarang to you, which is why you can’t… So that’s why I want to protect him in your stead, Commander!” 

Jihoon curls his lip, staring at him for a long moment before unsheathing his blade at his hip. 

“Commander!” As the exclamation leaves Wonwoo’s mouth, Jihoon points the tip of the sword toward Dohoon’s throat.

“You said you’ll protect the Chief, right?”

Sweat trickles down Dohoon’s reddened cheeks, “...Yes, I will.” 

“Then you’d better keep your goddamn word. No matter what, your eyes don’t leave Kwak, got it?” 

Dohoon’s eyes grow wide, trembling for a moment but soon after brim with a fiery determination, “Yes, sir! I, Kim Dohoon, promise to protect the Chief's life, no matter the cost!” 

It seems as if he’s convinced Jihoon, as the latter returns his blade to its sheath. “Let’s go.” His words are curt as he nods quickly before leaving the residence behind. 

In a short while, Youngmin and Dohoon will hand their terms of surrender to the Goguryeo army. You find yourself looking back over your shoulder many times as you run. Soon, Youngmin will give himself to his enemies. Perhaps, you think time and time again, if you turn around now, you can rescue him, 

Wonwoo seems to feel the same way, but Jihoon never once turns back. 

You run and run through the forest to Kyeju. It doesn’t matter how quickly you get there– it’s not soon enough to bring back an army to save Youngmin. 

“Are you alright?” Wonwoo asks as he falls in step by your side, “We can rest if you’re tired.” 

“I’m alright,” you shake your head, “I can keep going.” 

Jihoon, with his back to you, says nothing, but you can feel each pained step he takes away from his friend. 

The sun begins to dip towards the western horizon and night starts to fall when your party is stopped by a group of Goguryeo soldiers. 

“You there! Stop!” One of them commands, his hand already hovering over the hilt of his sword, “Where are you headed?” 

Jihoon only frowns and makes his way to walk past the soldier. 

“He said to stop!” Another soldier yells out, “Goddamn it, are you more of those Silla guys?”

“Hold,” the first man pauses, “I’ve seen him before. You’re that bastard from the Hwarang, aren’t you?”

“You mean those guys that offed Yoon?” The soldiers around them begin to scramble for their weapons.

Unfortunately, they aren’t fast enough for Jihoon. His hair snaps white and he shoots forward, toward the soldiers, sword in hand. His strikes are so fast and elegant that the eye barely even has time to perceive what happened before the two men fall dead. 

“Wrong day to fuck with me, boys.” 

A volley of soldiers rush forward, as well as a few arrows loosened in his direction. One of the arrows pierces his shoulder and Jihoon cries out, swiftly pulling it from the wound. It immediately begins to close as he smirks at them, “That’s how it feels getting shot, huh? Not as bad as I thought.” His gaze sharpens on those left before him, “This is nothing! This doesn’t even come close to what Youngmin’s going through!” 

Jihoon launches himself at the nearest of the soldiers, his sword already in motion and his face twisted by grief and anger. Even without Fury powers, Jihoon and Wonwoo could have made easy work of this small troop of men… But rage and frustration boiling over since you’d left Youngmin had erupted in a torrent of violence. 

“You can’t use your powers–!” You call out to Jihoon, trying to stop his relentless assault. 

“Shut up!” He snarls at you, “Stay out of this!” 

He knows what he’s doing, but he’s far past caring. Jihoon leaps from tree to tree, his sword flashing like lightning. Every time it moves, a life ends. Rage, anguish and an unrestrained thirst for blood radiates from him like heat from a blaze from a fire. Blood soaks his face and hands. Still, he cuts and cuts, never satisfied. 

You see Wonwoo and Junghwan sweating as they stand silently, watching Jihoon fight as a Fury. They’re mesmerized and you can hardly blame them. Every swing of his sword spills a man to the dirt. He looks like a monster. At last, the only man left alive is Jihoon himself. 

Silence falls over the forest once more, save for the birds that have restarted their chatter, 

“Wonwoo… Junghwan… Go see if there’s any more of them.” Desperate to distance themselves from the bloodshed, the two depart quickly after Jihoon’s orders. “You. Go with them.” 

Normally you would do as he’d asked and followed after them but now… 

“What?” Jihoon turns to you, noticing your hesitation, “I gave you an order.” His words cut like a knife but you don’t move. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“I am your commanding officer. I am giving you an order.�� He sounds angry, as he oft does, but just behind that there's a deep, miserable sadness. If he doesn’t stay angry, you feel, he’d probably be crying.

“I promise I won’t get in your way, but please, just let me stay here with you.” There’s nothing you can do for him, but you cannot bear to leave him alone. 

He turns his back to you– to everything, his face hidden. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing.

You search yourself for something to say, something to ease him, but you find nothing within yourself to better him. And, after a few moments, he speaks.

“What the hell did I do… all of this for?” 

How can this be the fate dealt by the gods for two men so honest and determined? It just doesn’t seem fair…

“Was it just so I could give Youngmin to those bastards? I busted my ass to give my friend to the enemy?” His voice trembles with every word, the weight of it all still resting heavily on him, “I was going to make him important. Help him carry himself to his family’s standards. I wanted to see him fight in the kind of battles they wrote about. Like a true warrior… I wanted to see just how far the owner of a school in the sticks could go.” 

You’re not even sure if he knows that you’re still here. If he does, it seems as if he no longer cares.  

“I thought we were shooting for the same dream. Long as it was for him, I felt like I could do anything. So what the hell am I doing here, alive, while he’s… he’s god knows where?! After all that self-righteous preaching, what did I do?! I turned around and left him to the wolves! He… I’m just like the king. Soon as things get dangerous, I turn tail and leave better men to deal with the mess! God damn it! Why am I alive?!”

It tears you apart to hear him lament his inner machinations aloud. You find yourself stepping forward, wrapping your arms around his back, pressing your face against his uniform. 

“Youngmin said… I mean, after you’d left, I told him that you’d figure it out,” you say softly,  “and he said that I was asking too much of you.” Tears run hot down your cheeks, “It’s not your fault, you can’t blame yourself… He didn’t want you to die. That’s why you’re still alive. Just… Please don’t blame yourself.”

 Jihoon listens, saying nothing. Or perhaps he didn’t even hear you. Why do words feel so powerless when you need them the most? What good are they if you cannot comfort someone at their lowest? 

“He did this to save me… but what the hell am I supposed to do without Kwak Youngmin of the Hwarang? The dream of helping him is what brought me here in the first place.” Jihoon’s shoulders shake, “Now that dream has left me… I don’t have anything left. I’m nothing.” He gives a short bark of humorless laughter, “Seriously Kwak… Stop giving me all the shitty jobs.”  His voice chokes on a sob and falls silent. 

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 10𝔱𝔥, 666 - ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The days that followed were somber, and eventually your group returned to Ungjin before regrouping with Hansol in Kyeju. When you arrived in the city, Junghwan mentioned he was going to visit a friend of his, and left. However, you think Junghwan’s just trying to be considerate and give Jihoon some space.

Arriving back at the compound, you’re shocked to see none other than Boo Seungkwan waiting for you.

“Evening,” he says as you walk inside, “Who would’ve thought you guys would ever come to visit me?”

“Nevermind that you should be in Sabi– why are you up this late? Just look at you,” Jihoon frowns, crossing his arms.

“I’m a bit tired of sleeping alone, you know?” Seungkwan muses, “At this rate, I’ll never get a chance to shine again… Seems to me it’s time to join you guys.” 

“The hell you won’t! What makes you think you can hold a sword with that body?” Jihoons words cut through the air.

“Come on, cut me some slack.” Seungkwan snorts, “I’ve been feeling great lately. So…” As he begins his next statement, he turns to cough into his fist. The fit doesn’t relent until he crouches on the floor, coughing painfully with strained breaths. 

“Are you alright, Seungkwan?” You ask, rubbing his back as he tries to catch his breath. Under your palm, you can feel the bones of his back. At first glance, he may look to be improving but he’s lost a lot of weight and it’s almost painful to look at. 

“See?” Jihoon turns to look down at him, “What’d I tell you? Why don’t you admit you’re sick for once, and take it easy?”

Seungkwan bites his lips out of frustration, grimacing at the thought of admitting his weakness, he sighs deeply and rises to his feet, “So, how’s Kwak doing? Too busy to visit me again?” 

You flinch at the mention of Youngmin, which causes your body to jolt unexpectedly. Jihoon, however, is unfazed by the question. 

“He’s a little preoccupied at the moment.” 

“How’s his shoulder doing? Isn’t it tough for him to be up and about?”

“That was a while ago. He’s fine.” Jihoon says, “He may not be able to wield his sword but, well, with his promotion, it’s not like he’s charging from the front lines anyway.” 

“Spare me,” Seungkwan waves his hand, “You’re bragging about his promotion like it’s you out there and not him. But… that’s good to hear. Youngmin’s okay then.” The Hwarang seems to have eased down. It looks as if Youngmin’s well-being is the only thing keeping Seungkwan invested in his own health. 

“Look,” Jihoon states, “I promise I’ll bring him next time. Just sit tight, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll wait. But I’m not holding my breath. You’ve always been a bad liar, Jihoon.”

“Who the hell are you calling a liar? I’ve never lied to you about Youngmin.” The tone of their conversation sounds like their usual banter, but you can understand why Junghwan may have been inclined to step out. You begin to gather that there’s much for them to reminisce on, so you take the chance to sneak outside. 

Cool nighttime air whispers against your cheeks as you gaze to the stars hanging above. It seems like tonight would be the final farewell between Jihoon and Seungkwan, you need to let them have this moment to themselves. Being an outside observer to the intimacy of their conversation tells you this, at least. 

In the midst of your contemplation, you think you see Junghwan speaking to someone in the distance. You know he said he’d been planning to meet a friend in Ungjin but you don’t recognize the figure. 

“Are you sure about that? You’re the Commander’s acquaintance, aren’t you?” You hear Junghwan speak to him as you slowly approach. “You’re already here so why don’t you stop by?” 

“I think I’ll pass on that.” The person says coolly.

“Why?” Junghwan questions further, “This may be the last time we step foot in Ungjin.”

“Wasn’t Youngmin just arrested by Goguryeo soldiers in Hanseong?” The person murmurs, “I don’t know what I’d say to Jihoon in a time like this, knowing what everyone’s been through and all.”

Junghwan’s head suddenly hangs, as the words from the conversation penetrate and resound around his head, “You don’t need to mince words. Just, you know, tell them how you feel… talk about what you’ve been up to, or what you’ve seen. Isn’t that good enough?” 

“Junghwan…”  For a brief moment, the stranger looks unsettled by the suggestion. However, he takes a deep breath and continues, “But I was never one of the Hwarang. I just happened to be around when the newer group was established.”

“Then why did you paint them as Furies?” Junghwan frowns, “If they didn’t matter to you anymore, then you wouldn’t go through the trouble of drawing that? It’s not like it’d make you any money.”

“Well…” The other stops.

“So, are you absolutely sure there’s nothing you’d want to say to the Commander, Colonel or Soonyoung? You’re positive?” Junghwan lists off the names of the Hwarang, only making you question the stranger yourself. Is he a friend of theirs? Perhaps Junghwan had met with him to bring him to your side?

Whatever the case, the stranger’s countenance gives the impression that he’s reluctant to be involved at all. 

As you’re thinking of this person, a voice speaks up behind you, “You should go and talk to Seungkwan while you can.” 

Jihoon. You hadn’t heard the door open, much less his footsteps approach.

“S- Sure,” you say quickly, spinning on your heels and walking into the house from the darkness. 

After making smalltalk for a while, Jihoon rejoins you and begins to say his farewell to him, “We’ll see you later, Boo. Don’t trouble Namekawa too much.”

“I never do,” Seungkwan shakes his head, “The man just worries too much.”

“Forever the smartass,” Jihoon rolls his eyes jokingly, “Whatever the case, we’ll be on our way soon.”

“Leaving already?” Seungkwan asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Goodnight, Seungkwan. Please take care of yourself.” You say with a small smile and begin to turn to leave.

“Hey,” Seungkwan calls out to you, “Can I have a word?” He beckons you over with a gentle gesture so you walk to him. 

“Is something the matter?” 

“I know he won’t admit it, but Jihoon looks like shit. Are things at the front going bad?” 

If you speak too carelessly you can give away information– information that can easily hurt Seungkwan, so you fall silent. 

“Here’s the thing: I don’t like that man at all, and quite frankly, I can’t give a rat’s ass what happens to him. But… I want you to be by his side. If he goes down, then the Hwarang go down with him.”

“I understand…” you murmur out before Jihoon butts in.

“Are we done here? Time to get going.” 

He doesn’t ask a thing about your conversation as he begins walking briskly ahead of you on the darkened streets. Watching him make that promise of bringing Youngmin the next time he’d see Seungkwan… it seems as though that burden of promise, and the potential of it being left unfulfilled, weighs heavily on him.

Suddenly, he stops in his tracks.

“You should go on ahead and go home.”

“Huh?” You pause yourself, “What do you mean? What do you plan on doing?”

“I’m going to speak to the Goguryeo forces in Hanseong,” he turns to face you, “And I’m going to personally ask them to release Youngmin.”

“You’re going now?!” You sputter, “I thought you said they can’t be reasoned with?”

“If we can’t get results, then I can’t say we’ve done everything we could.”

“It’s not safe for you to go there! They could capture you at any moment!” Frantic energy runs in your voice, “If they take you like they did Youngmin…” 

Yesterday this idea would have been preposterous to Jihoon, what happened to make him change his mind?

“So you’re telling me to my face that this decision is a mistake?” 

“No… No I’m not saying that.”

“Then what is it?” He snaps, “If you have something to say, just say it.” 

“Stay strong.” You raise your voice, nearly shocking yourself,  “You of all people know what needs to be done.”

“I decide on what I do. It’s not your place to say.” 

“I understand, but what will you do if you’re arrested by the Goguryeo army?”

“So what if I am?” He frowns, crossing his arms, “Sitting here and talking about ‘what-ifs’ isn’t any better than taking action.  

“So you’re going to let Chan and Eunseok’s sacrifices go in vain?!”

“What do you know?!” He explodes, and you have to stop yourself from taking a step back.

“E- Even I can understand a little!” You refuse to let your convictions amount to nothing. With a heavy heart you continue, “I was there when they gave their lives for… I saw it with my own eyes. Both of them loved the Hwarang. And they trusted their commander! If either of them saw what I am now, it would crush them.” 

“Crush them, huh?” At last, he seems to let go of a bit of the tension in his shoulders. They relax slightly as he looks off into the distance. “Do you believe it to be the survivor’s duty to carry on the will of the deceased?”

“I think so.”At least that’s what it feels as if you’re doing now. The reason you can’t back down, even if Jihoon feels compelled to yell at you, is because you know Eunseok and Chan would have done the same. 

“Damn, guess this means all I have to look forward to in life is shouldering more burdens until I die.”

“Jihoon…”

He shakes his head and gives you a short, melancholic smile, “Sorry for yelling at you. You were right. You did know. There’s no point in me being irrational when our situation is already grim, huh? It wouldn;t look too great if there’s nowhere for the Chief to go when he gets out eventually.”

With that last statement, you see that he’s finally regained his composure, and you respond in kind by calming down, “I know I told you to stay strong, but please, don’t push yourself too hard. I noticed you’ve been running around during both day and night time.”

“Where do you have all this time to show concern for every person you meet?” Jihoon sighs out, “Once we leave here, if you so much as collapse on the way out, I’m leaving your ass behind. Brace yourself.” 

“Okay!”

You’re happy to have gotten through to him, even if it was just a courteous gesture. He begins walking again and you run right behind him, doing your best to keep up with the swiftness of his pace.  

At the entrance of the city, you regroup with Junghwan and Wonwoo, the two greeting you quickly. 

“Commander, I need to speak with you urgently,” Junghwan says, looking frigid as he approaches Jihoon. “Please let me petition for the clemency of both the Chief and Dohoon! Surely the Goguryeo forces understand what killing Kwak would detail. If we work hard, I’m sure we can find people to cooperate with us. So please–”

 Jihoon stares at Junghwan, who’s bowed over in a sign of respect, and seems to take his suggestion into consideration. 

“...You beat me to it. I was going to say the same thing.”

“Commander! Then–”

“Jeon, I have a favor to ask you. Take her and head to Kyeju first.”

“What?!” You gasp out.

“We’re going to continue our fight for Youngmin’s freedom. Your presence here is only a burden for us right now.” Earlier he’d given you the same instruction, albeit with a far more aggressive tone. But this time you can tell thoughtful consideration went into it. 

You’re worried, of course. But there isn’t anything more you can argue. 

“This is an order from your commander. We’ll meet up again soon so get out of here and stay sharp.” 

It felt strange to part from them, as if some piece of yourself is now missing– but you don’t have much time to harp on it as you meet up with other troops in Kyeju. 

You’re worried about what’s to become of Youngmin, but perhaps because the situation seems grim, no one has brought it up.

𝔐𝔞𝔶 1𝔰𝔱, 666 – 𝔒𝔲𝔱𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔎𝔶𝔢𝔧𝔲, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Jihoon soon rejoined Wonwoo and you as you resided in Kyeju, only after he’d settled his affairs for Youngmin’s freedom in Ungjin first. Hansol had taken the main body of Hwarang soldiers to Koksan and then onto Bakjak to keep an eye on the Fury Corps. You have just left the small town with Wong Kunhang’s men to hop onto the route to follow after him. 

After a while, you manage to meet up with some allied soldiers, but many of them look at you with a strange mixture of curiosity and fear. It’s unpleasant, to say the least.

“Those are the Hwarang, right? The murderers?”

“Yeah, noble dogs that  kill men for no reason– even their comrades! Best not to look at them for too long. You never know what might set them off.”

It isn’t difficult to hear the gossip that floats through the ranks. 

“They sound like a bunch of old wives spinning those stories!” Wonwoo scoffs, turning to look at Jihoon, “Want me to keep them quiet for you?”

“No.” Jihoon shakes his head, sounding more irritated than usual, “They want to talk, let them talk.” 

“Are you alright?” You ask as you walk along, “You don’t look too well.”

“I’m fine.” He says but he clearly seems otherwise. His skin is a pale color, almost blue, and he looks exhausted. Marching during the day is hardly a pleasant walk for a Fury. 

Youngmin is clearly at the forefront of his mind. And although you hate to admit it, he has a good reason to be on edge. 

“Excuse me, could you let me pass? Ah– apologies, oops…” Someone moves towards you from the back of the column of men, pushing his way through the rest of the marching soldiers. 

“Hello,” a man, no older than Jihoon, steps forward and offers a bow, “Are you Lee Jihoon? I’ve heard a great deal about you and the Hwarang.” 

“Who the hell are you?” Jihoon asks, puzzled.

“Pardon my rudeness, I’m still not fully functional with the language– my name is Wong Kunhang, one of the commanders of the Tang forces. I’m sure I’ll be talking with the Hwarang a great deal in the future. It’s nice to meet you.” 

It’s strange, for the man who claimed to command the infantry of men, he looks more like the son of a wealthy merchant than a soldier. 

Jihoon snorts under his breath and turns away, leaving Kunhang to look on for a moment longer. 

“Do you have business with Jihoon?” Wonwoo asks.

“Ah, yes. I was hoping to hear stories about the Seorabeol attacks from the Commander of the Hwarang himself.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather hear some ridiculous rumor from a drunk soldier?” Jihoon bites, “Seems like everybody here loves to gossip.”

“I apologize for them. We’ve been far from home for a while and they’ve only grown more undisciplined as time progressed.” Kunhang shakes his head to continue his original plan, “At any rate, I came here to give you an overview of how our forces are being deployed. We have five thousand soldiers in the advance guard, main body and rear guard. As the highest ranking officer–” 

“Wong Kunhang… The Wong Kunhang who took back Hanseong a few months back?”

“That’s me,” he smiles.

“And you lost it.” 

“Yes, well… I suppose I did. It was a misstep of my forces and I take full responsibility for it. But I assure you that we will be taking it back, and keeping it this time.”

Jihoon looks as if he’s just swallowed something rotten. He’d only just lost his Chief and it seems as if this newcomer’s trying to force himself into Youngmin’s place. No one, no matter the skill, can replace his friend. Still, Kunhang seems to have been expecting to be rebuffed, and continues, showing no sign of being put off by Jihoon's behavior. 

“The advance guard is made up mostly of men from the Silla army. The rear guard, however, is composed of men from Tang. I’m thinking of promoting you to Deputy Commander in order to lead the advance guard. What do you say?” 

“Why?”

“I have experience leading my men. And am I wrong to think that the advance guard would take more kindly to a fellow countryman than an outsider?” Kunhang speaks plainly, “Besides, there isn’t anyone on our side or theirs who hasn’t heard the name Lee Jihoon. I can’t think of anyone better suited.” His copious praise does nothing to thaw Jihoon, they just stare at each other for a few awkward moments. 

It’s painfully clear that the two of them don’t see eye to eye, and it cannot be a worse first impression. 

“Well,” Kunhang claps his hands together, “I suppose I better be on my way. We’ll talk later, and go over some more in-depth plans.” Their conversation ends as one-sided as it had begun, and the Tang general disappears into the swarm of marching soldiers. 

Later that night, your group camps a short distance away from the rest of the force. Jihoon, sitting by the fire’s edge, beckons you and Wonwoo over, “We need to talk.” The main bulk of the Hwarang forces are with Hansol heading even more northward, meaning that the only people in the camp were you, Wonwoo, Jihoon and three dozen more Hwarang. “Remember what Kunhang told us earlier?”

“About taking command of the advance guard?” Wonwoo inquires, “What of it?”

“I’ve been thinking about what I want you guys to do. You can’t be in the advance guard, so I’ll have to send you off to fight with the main body or the rear guard.”

“So this means you’re going to take his offer?” Wonwoo shifts as he speaks.

“Yes. You were in Seorabeol. You’d be a good commander for men who’ve never seen a real battle.”

“But…” A frown carves itself on his lips. Jihoon’s reasoning makes sense, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it.  It feels as if Wonwoo had grown attached to the idea of fighting in the same unit as Jihoon. Perhaps the commander is insensitive for either ignoring this sentiment, or not acknowledging it at all. 

Wonwoo sighs, resigning himself into a period of deep thought, looking up to Jihoon’s gaze, “Understood. Whatever you order me to do, I’ll do it. But first, I want you to tell me something. This doesn’t mean you’re planning to disband the Hwarang, does it? If I fight in this, it’ll be as a member of the Hwarang.”

It seems the two of you feel the same way. Jihoon’s hope may be flickering but yours isn’t.

“Fine. Whatever.” Jihoon seems disengaged.

“I should also point out that I think commanding soldiers is a little more than she can handle.” Wonwoo adds, glancing over to you, “She doesn’t belong on the front line. She’s a page, not a soldier.” He rises to his feet, dusting the dirt from his knees, “Anyways, I’ll go and tell the others what you’ve decided.”

Jihoon and you are left alone with the crackling fire as Wonwoo jogs back to the main encampment. He sighs and his shoulders drop. Suddenly he looks very, very tired.

“Why did you try to order us away?” The question leaves you before you can think it through.

He doesn’t answer, only tilts his head to look at the flecks of starlight dappling through the trees above. As the melancholy silence speaks, you nearly regret asking the question before he laments, “If I knew Youngmin was coming back, then I could go out there ready to give my life to win. Just like Chan said– Youngmin and I were the Hwarang. With him gone, there’s no way in hell I can carry all this on my own.”   

When he normally speaks to you, he is oft cruel and rude, you’ve never heard him sound so defeated before. 

“Junhui was right, wasn’t he? Remember what he said when we decided to attack Hanseong? He said there was no way in hell Kim Yong would fund us without some sort of hidden agenda.” Jihoon huffs, “He was right. So was Mingyu… You know who was the first to petition for a settlement between Goguryeo and our forces? Kim Yong.”

“...What?”

“He wanted to showcase our defeat as costly and an expenditure of life and resources. Make it abysmally clear that the war is funded on blood, and to keep his own money in his coiffers.” He laughs despondently and kicks at a rock by his foot, “Damn it, how couldn’t I see that coming? If I thought about it, that would’ve never slipped past me. I was desperate for Youngmin to be off fighting big important battles, winning all sorts of glory…  But I let it all blind me, we were played and Youngmin lost his spirit…” 

The Hwarang had put their lives on the line for the Kingdom. How could the King just let them be pawned around? 

“Noble or commoner– we all busted our asses to get where we are. Aren’t warriors meant to be the masters of the battlefield? What the hell have we been fighting for this entire time? Is anything I believed in still true? We believed that we were fighting for something, so no matter the shit we had to crawl through, we did it.  Turns out it was just a trench that just circles itself. What are we supposed to do now? What the hell am I supposed to believe in?”

Every word of his punctures you with pain. But the kingdom had betrayed them, their trust. The war had changed and it feels as if the Hwarang had been tossed aside. All that the Hwarang had done is fade away, what could Jihoon do to fix it? 

“You lost what you believed in,” you say quietly, “They think as long as you’re there to lead, they’ll be fine and refuse to show fear in front of you. They want you to see the kind of men they are, which means they’ll fight to the death if you tell them to.” If anything, you want to soothe his wounded soul a bit. “But if someone were to ask why I’m here… I’d say it’s because I believe in you.”

Perhaps that’s the wrong thing to say, all you’ve done is give him something more to worry about. 

Jihoon looks at you, but for once the light in his eyes is soft, “You’re right. If you lose sight of something the only person who can find it again is you. Besides, we’ve got a big fight coming up. Guess I should be thinking about how we’re going to win that, not whining about my problems.” With a small smile, he turns back to the stars.

You fall silent again, cicadas fluttering and chirping through the night being the only cacophony of sounds around you.  

“Are you really going to stick around?” He asks. You know he wants to go alone, but you can’t go with Wonwoo, you both know that.

“Yes, I am.” Perhaps you don’t know how you can help him just yet, but you can hardly leave him alone. 

“Fine. Just stay out of my way.” 

“I know.” You sit there in the silence of night, you’re just about to return to your tent when he groans out in pain. Almost immediately you know what’s happening, your fears confirmed when his hair begins to turn white at the roots. Quickly you scramble to your feet, urging him to his and leading him to the shadow of a large tree where the nearby soldiers won’t be able to see him.  

“Damn it,” he curses through clenched teeth, “Why now?!”

With shaking hands you reach for your collar, and as he grasps your intent he grimaces. Jihoon takes a hold of your shoulders and roughly pulls you toward him, seconds later you feel a dull sting on the back of your neck and then the hot trickle of blood. 

His warm breath comes in pants across your bare skin, but after a time his ragged gasps for deliverance begin to steady. And slowly, his grip loosens. Then, without a word, he pulls away from you. 

“How long do you plan to keep letting me do this?” He mutters, as you turn to him, worry in his eyes.

“Forever,” you say simply, “As long as you need me, I’ll be here.” 

“You’re a stupid woman,” he sighs, “And I’m a man who’s lost sight of what makes him human. How can you just let me cut you open like that and drink your blood? What the hell are you thinking?”

“It’s alright, Jihoon. I really don’t mind.”

There’s nothing for him to say to that.

The next day, along the route to Hanseong, the news breaks.

“So, Goguryeo forces are pulling out of Hanseong?” Wong Kunhang frowns, “That’s… unexpected.” He and Jihoon stop to talk over the news and their next move. 

“Unexpected? They’re cocky bastards that think we won’t try to retake the city.” Jihoon scoffs, “It’s the most opportune moment to take it back.” 

“I’m not against going into battle,” Kunhang states, “We are leading an army, after all. But the main body and the rear guard are still on their way. All I’m asking is that you wait until they catch up with us. Attempting to lay siege to the city with the men we have is folly beyond folly. We should–”

Jihoon sighs, “This isn’t a theoretical scenario from one of your war manuals.”

“Sun Tzu isn’t just a war manual. The highest form of generalship is balking enemy plans; the next best in preventing enemy junctions,” Kunhang argues, standing his ground, “After that, it’s attacking armies in the field, and the worst of all is besieging walled cities. Therefore, we should only lay siege as a last resort. Attacking head-on is foolish. If you’re determined to be foolish, the best you can do is make sure your army is in the best condition possible and–”

“Though we have heard of stupid haste in war, cleverness has never been seen associated with long delays! No kingdom benefits from prolonged warfare!” Jihoon offers his rebuttal, “Remember that one? He’s saying that it might get messy, but it’s better to end your battles quickly. Taking your sweet time just comes back to bite you in the ass.”

“Lee… Don’t do that.” Wong Kunhang’s brow furrows, “I’m not asking you to wait long. They should be here in just a few days.”

“And we’re just meant to sit here twiddling our thumbs until the Goguryeo army shows up?” Jihoon frowns, “If they catch us unaware then we’re screwed, no two ways about it.” He must sense that he caught a nerve in the other as he pushes ahead, “You want to miss this opportunity, fine. I’ll just take the advance guard and capture Hanseong myself.”

“That’s suicide!” Kunhang shouts as Jihoon snorts derisively. He clearly has no intention of taking his opinion. 

“I guess we’ll see. I’ll take Hanseong by tomorrow.” His lips pull back from his teeth in a feral grin, and he looks off in the distance toward Hanseong.

He isn’t being belligerent. He’s being reckless. With Jihoon like this, can you really win?

𝔐𝔞𝔶 13𝔱𝔥 666 - ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔊𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔬 Hanseong is in turmoil. Your forces neared three thousand, while Hanseong’s barely had a thousand. And although the Silla forces easily outnumber your opponents, the guards are able to use their fortifications to great effect, fighting you to a standstill. Arrows fly, swords clash, and men scream in pain.

“We can’t keep this up,” Jihoon sighs out with crossed arms, “This is as good a time as any to attack the enemy lines.”   

“Attack?” You look toward him in disbelief, as a nearby soldier cries out, “Their fortifications–” 

“Can fall.” Jihoon says flatly, “An arrow or two won’t kill you.” The men around him are stunned into silence, never having imagined they would receive orders like this. Their commander, however, just stares back coldly. “What the hell did you come here to do? You’re here to fight a war. If you’re prepared to fight, you should be prepared to die. Am I wrong? So, when I give the word, you’re going to charge that line!”

The men before him pale, and many tremble. Eventually, one of them snaps, “I can’t do it! I don’t want to die here.”

No sooner had he turned to run, does Jihoon’s sword flash in the daylight, striking the soldier dead. The men watching swallow thickly. For a few moments they stay utterly silent. Commotion breaks out shortly afterward. 

“What is this?!”

“Is he crazy?!”

Jihoon lets his cold eyes slide slowly across their ranks, and slowly the mumbling ceases, “Anyone else want to run? If you’re too scared to fight, go ahead. Be my guest. But anyone who runs will die by my hand. So either I kill you… Or you take your chance out there. Up to you.” With one final scowl, he turns back to the battlefield, taking off across it.

He runs through the throng of bodies and hail of arrows, falling upon the men defending the main gate like a vengeful god. His sword drips with fresh blood, you stay in the shadows of the treeline waiting for him to return.  

Wonwoo runs to the commander, grime and blood smeared across his face, “With another push we should be able to take the gate!”

“Great!” Jihoon shouts, “I believe in you Jeon!” 

As Jihoon effortlessly slices through the enemy, the mood among his men begins to change. A ripple goes through them, a surge of newfound energy to fight. You can’t hear him from the distance, but he shouts something over his shoulder and his soldiers fight with intense vigor. 

And soon after the sun passes its zenith, the city gates open, the news of it spreading like wildfire. 

The Silla forces sweep into the city soon after, finding relative ease when liberating the streets. Jihoon glances at you with a grin as Wonwoo runs up to him.

“Commander! The men we sent to the town head’s home ran into trouble!”

“What?” Jihoon almost sounds confused, “We haven’t seen any real resistance so far.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, “I’m unaware of the details. Should I go see…?”

“No. I’ll go.” Jihoon stops him, “I’m leaving you in charge here.”

“What would you like me to do?” You ask.

“Come with me,” he says simply, “Don’t want you wandering around. Might get hit by a stray arrow or something.  

And thus it was decided. You quickly follow after Jihoon, and even upon approaching the building, you can tell something is wrong. Inside, your men are dead on the floor, their bodies laid out like the spokes of a wheel, and at its hub… Hong Jisoo.

“What are you doing here?” Jihoon asks, more nonchalant than you’d have thought. “Decided you’d take a vacation? You do know there’s a war out there, right? Or maybe you’re just hiding out here, hoping you won’t get hurt.”

“We were acting under orders from the King.” Hwan Minhyun, whom you hadn’t seen upon your arrival, speaks out, “We are here to deliver a secret message. We did not expect to be drawn into battle and we certainly did not expect to encounter you here.”

“Huh,” Jihoon scoffs, “Gaesomun yells jamp and you leap. You sure are dedicated.” 

“Well, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Lee…” Jisoo leers with a snide grin.

“And I didn’t think you were so anxious to get your ass beat again. Don’t worry though, I’m happy to oblige.”

Jisoo grinds his teeth and draws his sword at his hip, “Killing you will erase the humiliation I suffered at your hands. You and your dogs have been a thorn in my side since Wonweol. Today, I will have my revenge.”

“... Sounds as if you’ve got this covered,” Minhyun sighs, stepping back once more, “He’s all yours.” 

Jihoon just as easily draws his sword, “Guess the face wasn’t enough, maybe if I take an arm you’ll get the message.” He soars across the room at Jisoo, their blades rattling against one another as Jisoo block’s the commander’s strike. Then, the demon pushes back and Jihoon is thrown across the hall. 

“You’re not getting away,” Jisoo says coolly, his hair turning stark white, just as Jihoon’s had done at the beginning of the battle. In the blink of an eye, he leaps after his opponent, whipping his sword in a quick slash. Jihoon brings up his blade at the last second before the strike could wound him. 

“You’re slow,” Jisoo taunts, “Your movements lack finesse. Don’t tell me that killing humans has tired you out? Last time you said you were a Demon…” Their blades locked together, Jihoon’s begins to shake under the pressure of the other’s force. 

Jisoo’s right, though, Even with his Fury abilities, Jihoon is slower than before, too unfocused. 

“Ah, I see,” the Demon’s eyes flicker to the open door for a moment, “The sun’s still out. You don’t like it much, do you?” He chuckles, “Don’t worry, I won’t go easy on you just because you’re weak. After all, a warrior always gives all he can, no matter the situation. That is your code, isn’t it?” 

“Damn you!” Jihoon jumps backwards, but not fast enough to escape Jisoo’s blade. It arcs down across the Hwarang’s chest, blood erupting from the gash and splattering to the floor. Jihoon drops to his knees, skidding across the hard wooden panels panting heavily as blood blooms across his robes and pools on the floor below him. 

Agonizing seconds pass as both you and he wait for the blood to stop, yet it continues to fall through his fingers clenched to the robes hanging from the wound. “What the hell is this?!” Jihoon asks through clenched teeth as he stares daggers at Jisoo standing before him. 

Jisoo laughs, almost as if Jihoon had told him a joke, “What’s the matter? Not healing like you should? This,” his wrist flicks upward to show off his blade, which almost looks to be faintly glowing, “is Hwangun’s Blade. It’s been passed down through my family for generations, but… no one had ever thought to test it on a Demon. This is an excellent chance to see what it can do. And you know what? I can use it to put down a fake Demon.”

He smirks, giving the impression that he’s figured this victory is a foregone conclusion. 

“You must be pretty desperate if you’re willing to grab your family’s magic sword. Really need something like that to take on a fake Demon?” Jihoon gives his own taunting laugh, but Jisoo’s grin doesn’t falter. 

“You humiliated me for the first time in my life. Nothing is too much if it will send you to hell.” With another flick of his wrist, Jisoo sends droplets of gore spraying down onto the floor, “Your abilities can’t heal any wounds from this blade. You became a Fury to defeat me, but now that sacrifice means nothing.” 

“So, tell me if I’ve got this right. All I have to do is avoid getting cut by that thing? Hell, before I became a Fury, all I did was dodge swords. This’ll be easy.”

“Does your impudence know no bounds?” The Demon scoffs, “Fine. I’ll put your short lived defiance to the test.” His blade shimmers a blue-white and seems to shiver with his murderous intent. The air is thick, feeling like a struggle to just breathe. 

Jisoo slashes downwards toward Jihoon, who’s able to dodge out of the way in time, bringing up his own sword to strike back. But when it arcs upward, instead of hitting flesh, Jihoon’s sword cuts through air. In tandem with the strikes, Jisoo moves too fast for the bare eye to see, Jihoon’s margin for error becoming slimmer and slimmer. With another dodge, the Demon slams his riposte into the Hwarang’s shoulder. Jihoon’s robe is torn away, displaying a fresh wound. 

“Good… You’re overthinking on how you might kill me,” Jisoo smirks, “But I want to see more. I want to see your face when you realize that you can’t kill me and that I will win!”

Blood pours from him, but Jihoon brings up his sword to catch Hwangun. Teeth clenched, you know that he’s lost far too much blood to carry on for much longer. Jisoo kicks Jihoon back and as he does, the commander’s hair returns to its natural hue.   

“What the hell?!” Jihoon cries out, still in a defensive stance.

“Reached your limit, I see,” the Demon chortles, inching closer, “Even a false Demon is better than this pathetic existence! You might as well be an insect.” His laugh echoes through the hall, gloating over the near unconscious Jihoon, “I want to hear you cry! Scream! Beg me for your life! You and your filth have stood in my way for too long. I’ll kill you and the Hwarang!”

Jihoon’s head twitches, “Kill…the Hwarang? You?” It’s almost as if he’s keeping himself upright with sheer force of will at this point. “After we left Youngmin and the Hwarang fell to me, I felt like there was no way I could do all that by myself. I was just about ready to give it up.” Suddenly, the hair on his head shifts back to its demonic white, “...But now, when you say you want to erase everything we did… I’ll be goddamned if I let you destroy the Hwarang!” 

Ichor continues to fall from him and you know that if he’s to continue like this he’ll most certainly die.

“Jihoon, no!” You cry out, “If you don’t stop you’re going to die!”

His eyes flick to you and you can already see the resolution in his gaze, then he gives you a grin before looking back to Jisoo, “You really think I care about how much of my future I’ve gotta burn to get this bastard? I can’t let him kill me here. I can’t let this bastard and his damn sword get the best of me now!” 

Relaxed now, Jisoo speaks once more, “You’re practically dead already. What do you intend to do? This charade is pathetic.” Almost lazily, he swings his sword again. 

Jihoon cries out in pain, not having the strength to lift his sword entirely to block the blow. Then Jisoo’s sword slams into his right shoulder. Jihoon’s clothes are soaked in blood, his skin the color of parchment. 

“I hoped you might be entertaining, but I suppose it’s time for me to say goodbye now. Shame you don’t have enough energy to talk. I miss that dry wit,” Jisoo sighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t hold your sword anymore? Where’s that warrior spirit?”

Even though he struggles to draw breath, Jihoon musters what little strength he has left to reach for his sword. The point of the blade tips and weaves in the air as blood pours from his body, but he stands. Jisoo lifts his sword slick with the commander’s blood, and smiles. 

“At last! I can kill you with my own hands and erase the humiliation you gave me!” 

Before he can land another blow, the building shakes as an ear splitting crash barrels through somewhere on the estate. Smoke rapidly fills the room, making it hard to see.

“What is this?!” Jisoo spits, distractedly turning from Jihoon to find the root of the interruption. 

“Fire! Fire!” Cries scream out from deep in the building, and you can ascertain that one of the trebuchets aligning the fortified walls had been turned against the city for some reason or another in a last act of defense. 

The fire from the lit fodder spreads quickly, roaring around the room and licking at the sides of the hall. Black smoke pours into the room, irritating your eyes and throat. Even as the room plunges into a near unbearable heat, the two men don’t lower their swords. 

It’s only when the ceiling begins to give way does Jisoo remark, “Damn it, this place is falling apart.” Not wanting to endanger himself, he shoves his sword back into its scabbard angrily, glaring across the smoldering wreckage at Jihoon. “I’ll let you go this time. We’ll finish this duel another day. And you will die.”

He disappears shortly thereafter and you run to Jihoon, “Are you alright?!” 

Waxen skin and face writhing in pain, he doesn’t respond as he drops to the floor. And as he does, the near forgotten Minhyun walks toward you from his corner, unbothered by the flames around him. 

“The Demon clans no longer intend to involve themselves in your governmental squabbles.”

“Why?” Jihoon asks, sweat beading on his forehead. 

“We owed favors to Goguryeo. We feel those have now been repaid.” Minhyun shrugs, “Besides, even you must know that they will soon fall, regardless of the efforts of my kin.” 

You spot a bitter smile creeping along Jihoon’s lips, “... Yeah.” 

“And I suppose you intend to watch that ship sink?” Minhyun asks, “Silla never gave your Hwarang the recognition it so desired, and pawned you off when they had nothing to lose. Why do you still fight?” The truth of his words drive a knife into Jihoon’s heart, and you see his face fall. 

“We’re knights of the Crown, we fight for them no matter what, right?” Jihoon says with ragged breaths, “What I’m fighting for now isn’t Hanseong or Pyongyang, or any of those bastards that call themselves ministers. What I– no– What we’re fighting for is the bond in our hearts. The bond that we joined the Hwarang with.”

His hand clenches to his chest and he lets out a small ‘fuck’ before continuing, “It’s not easy, not by a long shot, but… I’d feel like a real asshole if I died before Youngmin came back.” 

Minhyun closed his eyes while Jihoon spoke, he now stands silent, “If Jisoo chooses to involve himself with either of you again, he will have betrayed the moral code that binds all of our kind. He will no longer have the support of the clans. He will be on his own.” He looks to the building around him, “I imagine this will be of little concern to him, but I ask you to hear his mind when he next tries you, he is not doing so at the behest of the Demon clans. He is, I fear, your problem now.”

Then, he turns and disappears. As you look to where he once stood, you hear Jihoon thud to the floor, collapsing from relief or exhaustion, you cannot tell. But, he’s fallen unconscious, and if you cannot escape soon, you’ll burn to death. 

“Hello?! Are you here?!” A figure bursts into the hall, shrouded in smoke but with a voice you recognize.

Wonwoo had come to the rescue in your most dire hour. He quickly helps you lift Jihoon so you can shoulder the weight of his body together as you leave the estate.  

Hanseong, the town Jihoon had fought tooth and nail to overtake, only remained in Silla custody for a few days. As an army of Goguryeo soldiers came within the following week to recapture the city, leaving your commander’s mission for naught. After the battle, Wong Kunhang’s army, along with the remaining Hwarang, set off to Koksan. Jihoon had somehow miraculously survived, but by no means has he recovered. For days he drifts in and out of consciousness, settling in at a small residence in Kyeju for him to recover. 

𝔐𝔞𝔶 20𝔱𝔥, 666 - 𝔎𝔶𝔢𝔧𝔲, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Since you’d arrived in Kyeju, you’d buisied yourself with taking care of Jihoon. As a Fury, most normal means of healing and medicine have little to no effect on him. So, most of your nursing consists of fervently hoping that his natural strength and tenacity would bring him through. Fortunately, your prayers begin to pay off and in time his wounds begin to heal. 

Although those made by Jisoo’s blade did not do so easily, or quickly. You find yourself thinking of the battle of Hanseong. After watching Jihoon, many of the reluctant soldiers came around to clash swords with the enemy. They had told him it was an honor to fight alongside the Hwarang, for they were true warriors. 

You replay that fated battle several times over the course of your day, you’re just about to do it again as you open the door to Jihoon’s room, set to change his bandages. Yet, you don’t have the chance, as when you peer in, you see him sitting at his desk. He’s healed enough to move and speak without pain, but he’s still meant to be confined to his bed. 

“You shouldn’t be up,” you say quickly, walking inside and shutting the door behind you, “When I said you were healthy enough to get up, I didn’t mean you were healthy enough to work!”

“It’ll be only a minute,” he murmurs, looking over a few papers before him, “I’m going back to bed as soon as I finish this.”

“You nearly died! You need rest!” You rush to him, setting the bandages down on the tabletop. 

“Died?” He laughs once, dryly, “Me? Hah. That was nothing. Barely a scratch.” 

“Barely a– Do you know how long I’ve been taking care of you?!”

“Fine, fine,” he relents with a sigh. “Just a bit more reading, that's all I ask.”

You sigh too, reaching for his blanket he’d strewn aside when he awoke. Moving to stand behind him, you drape it over his shoulders, “At least let me put this on you. You’re going to catch a chill.”  

“Hm, I’m sure even if I said I don’t want it, you wouldn’t listen to me.” 

“I’m glad you see how this works,” you say with a smile, “Now, as soon as that’s done, it’s straight back to bed.” 

At last he turns to look at you, his face quirked in a small, bitter smile, “Alright, fine. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Huh?” You stare back at him intently.

“Guess I should be thanking you and Wonwoo, huh? Well… I appreciate what you did. Thanks.” His thanks are rarely unaccompanied by cynicism, sarcasm or outright derision but this is different. Noticing your baffled expression he speaks again. “Something wrong? Did I say something funny?”

“Oh! No no no,” you quickly assure him, “It’s not that.” It’s more you’ve never seen him act so nice. 

After that, you leave him to his work, checking back an hour later to make sure that he’s asleep and not working himself to the bone. Once doing so, you return to your quarters for another few, quiet hours, before a visitor arrives in the night.

“I thought I’d come and pay him a visit…” You hear the voice of Wong Kunhang speak out as you approach the common area, you also note Wonwoo standing next to him.

“He’s resting at the moment–” You begin, but stop when you hear movement behind you. 

“Commander–!” Wonwoo says, rushing to Jihoon’s side, “I’m glad to see you standing! For a while, I really wasn’t sure what was going to happen.” His eyes begin to tear up and he blinks rapidly to clear them. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that,” Jihoon gives a short laugh, “You really think I’d die so easily?”

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” he rubs his hand across his face awkwardly, trying to brush away the tears that refuse to stop forming. 

“Jihoon,” Kunhang says solemnly, “I’m going to be honest with you. You fought like a Demon back in Hanseong, I’ll give you that. Morale is through the roof. The whole army won’t stop talking about you. But your actions were dangerous and idiotic,” the once calm demeanor of the general turns angered. “You are a commanding officer, not a soldier! You don’t belong on the front line!” 

“General Wong, he’s only just recovered… Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh–” Wonwoo tries to quell the other’s discontent. 

“No! I’m going to give my piece, I won’t let him slide out of this one!” Kunhang shouts, “Listen to me, Lee Jihoon. Combining our men isn’t just about new clothes and new titles, we have to change about how we think about war. We have to learn new tactics. The commander charging at the front of the army does not show that we are improving our strategy!”

Flustered at this point, Kunhang struggles hard to keep his composure, “If the soldiers are the hands and feet, then their commanding officer is the head. Without a head, the body is a useless mess! This war will be lost if we succumb to our own pride!”

Jihoon’s eyes go wide. The words similarly mirror one of the last things that Chan had said to him. Keeping his head on so that the body can move forward… 

“Chan’s ghost back to haunt me,” Jihoon sighs out with a weighted smile, a faraway look in his eyes. 

“Is something funny?” Kunhang frowns, “This is serious! Don’t you understand how worried I was about you? Hell, how worried the whole army was about you?!”

For a few moments, Jihoon simply stares at him. 

“Say what you want!” Kunhang stands his ground, albeit a bit taken aback at the commander’s attitude, “It won’t change my mind!”

“You’re right, Wong. Sorry for worrying you.” He follows his surprisingly genuine apology with a similarly surprising bow.  

Kunhang has clearly prepared himself for a variety of reactions from Jihoon, but this had been none of them. For several moments he stands there, too flabbergasted to speak. 

“My apologies to you too, Wonwoo. I hear you helped carry me all the way here.”

“Oh no!” Wonwoo shakes his head, “No, it was nothing. Anything for you, sir.” 

𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔢 19𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔎𝔬𝔨𝔰𝔞𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Summer blooms from the remnants of spring in full fury. Rumors and news about the intense fighting floats in and out of the town, and you grow uneasy thinking about the loss of lives on each side. In the subsequent weeks following Wong Kunhang’s visit, he’s once again able to take Hanseong and keep a steady hand over keeping it in Silla's grasp. And although he hasn’t completely healed, Jihoon has decided to leave Kyeju as soon as he is well enough to march with Kunhang who’s now stationed in Koksan. 

The way there seems longer than you'd ever thought possible. At last, you’d caught up with the main body of the Hwarang. 

Hansol’s at the door to greet you the moment you arrive at the estate. 

“Commander,” Hansol says with a small smile, “I’m grateful to see you alive.”

“Glad to see you’re alright too, I hear you’ve been doing well.”  

Although Hansol looks relieved to be reunited with Jihoon, he frowns and rubs his hand to his forehead. Perhaps fatigue from the battles occurring is beginning to get to him. 

Jihoon looks past him to the people standing behind him, “Junghwan, Dohoon, nice to see you’re still around. Was starting to get worried about you two.” Despite their commander’s voiced appreciations, both wear glum expressions. 

It’s Dohoon who begins to shake before breaking down into tears, his voice quivering violently, “You entrusted me with Chief’s safety, b-but– I wasn’t strong enough! I couldn’t protect him!”

Although hearing his words, you cannot get yourself to grasp their meaning. For him to be this distraught can only mean one thing. 

“We have been told that at the end of last month that Youngmin was… beheaded in Pyongyang.” Hansol steps in after Dohoon fails to compose himself, being ushered aside and consoled by Junghwan. 

‘Beheaded.’ You swallow at the word. Youngmin had been killed like a common criminal, and you know it would have been pure humiliation for him. 

“Hm, didn’t even let him kill himself,” it almost seems as if Jihoon had expected this. His voice is controlled and unsurprised, but within his eyes you can see a bottomless, yawning despair. 

“It’s my fault he died!” Dohoon exclaims, “Please commander, I deserve to die as well!”

“I as well!” Junghwan adds, “I begged you to let me fight for his freedom, but I– I wasn’t successful! I’m a failure!”  

“You idiots! Look around you,” Jihoon frowns, “There’s no goodman way we have a single Hwarang left to spare! If you’re so prepared for death, then don’t give me your cheap words. Prove yourselves on the battlefield!”

The two fall silent after a quick, “Yes sir.”

Later that night, both Seungcheol and Soonyoung come to visit Jihoon.

As members of the Fury Corp, they had been resting when you’d arrived earlier in the day. 

“Your arrival has the men in something of an uproar,” Seungcheol muses, “It woke me somewhat earlier than usual.” 

“I heard you got hurt pretty bad, Commander. Didn’t think we’d see you again so soon,” Soonyoung says, almost scanning for wounds on the elder.

“Well, I couldn’t just sit on my ass once I heard there were battles happening all over the place,” Jihoon says, sounding calm and relaxed. You know that isn’t how he’s feeling on the inside though. If you have been feeling depressed since learning of Youngmin’s passing, you cannot begin to comprehend how he must be feeling. 

“We should be on our way then, our work begins at night, after all,” Seungcheol notes and begins to head for the door. Soonyoung nods and heads after him before Jihoon speaks up. 

“Soonyoung, do you think you can tell Hansol to come by?”

“Huh?” Soonyoung looks back, “Uh, sure… I’ll go and get him now.” Before he leaves he says one more thing to Jihoon, “I know you only just got here. But you should really rest tonight.”   

With both of them gone, the room falls into an awkward silence. Jihoon hasn’t told you to leave, but it seems unlikely that he’ll start talking to you either. Just as you’re about to break the quiet, Hansol opens the door and steps inside.

“I heard you had business with me. Can I help you?”

Without even waiting for him to settle in, Jihoon says, “From now on, I’ll be commanding from the front line.”

A strangled gulp treks down your throat as he says this out of almost nowhere. If he were to fight on the front line, the violence would be intense and he still hadn’t fully healed. 

“Do you intend to die in battle?” Hansol asks simply.

“No,” Jihoon shakes his head, “I won’t go out that easily. You’ve been out there. Only right for me to take that burden off you, right?” 

His presence would raise morale among the men but if he died, the Hwarang dies with him. 

“You raise an excellent point, sir. If you mean to take my place, however,” the air grows thick as Hansol’s hand falls to his sword, “I must ask you to defeat me first. If you cannot best me, then only death awaits you on the front lines.”  

“Getting a little full of yourself without me, huh?” Jihoon’s lips turn upward into a grin as his sword slides from its scabbard. 

“You shouldn’t be doing this!” You cry out as Hansol’s blade is also released, the blade glinting in the glow of the lanterns.

“Stay out of this!” Jihoon says and locks eyes with Hansol. Seconds linger as they remain unmoving, just then they leap towards one another, swords struggling against one another. After a bit, Jihoon is thrown backwards to sprawl across the floorboards. 

“What?!” He looks surprised. Even only partially healed, he still has far greater strength than a human, and he isn’t the type to go easy on a friend. 

“This war is not so easy that you might rush to the front line without your full strength,” Hansol says and as you look back at him your eyes grow wide.

“Hansol…” With his now reddened eyes and white hair, there’s no doubt that he’s a Fury. “You drank the pimul?”

“Don’t worry about me, I made my own decision.” The simple fact that he’s decided this path says more about the battles he’s been fighting than words ever can. Hansol looks to Jihoon, who’s rising to his feet, “I understand why you wish to fight, that is why I cannot allow you to.” He straightens himself and sheaths his sword, his hair returning to normal. “Perhaps you might be able to forget your pain in the midst of battle, but I cannot afford to let you do that. You cannot be permitted to turn a blind eye to our problems.”

Jihoon slowly puts his sword away, “Because I’m the Chief now?”

“Because you’re the only one who can unify the Hwarang.” After hearing that, Jihoon sighs, only allowing Hansol to continue. “Leave the front line to us. You, Jihoon, should remain here and plan our strategies.” 

“Fine. The front line’s yours until my wounds heal.” 

An honest, “Thank you” leaves Hansol, and then he turns to you. “I’m leaving him in your care. Don’t let him out of your sight until he’s healthy again.”  

You nod and give him what you hope to be a reassuring smile. He inclines his head to you, turns to Jihoon to give a short bow, then leaves. As soon as the door closes, Jihoon’s face darkens and his brows draw together. 

“Damn it… He’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t trust me and thinks I need you as a babysitter.”

“He’s just worried about you, that’s all,” you try to justify Hansol’s actions. 

Jihoon gives a bitter laugh, then stops suddenly. He gulps out a noise and clutches his stomach in pain, his body and hands shaking as his hair and eyes begin to change color.  With the bloodlust taking hold, he begins to groan out in pain. 

“This way,” you quickly take his arm and lead him to a room off of the main hall. In the open, anyone is privy to catch him. 

As he settles in the room, you set out towards him, and he has a look in his eyes as if he already knows what your next move is. You tug at your collar, loosening it like you’d done before. He leans toward you and you feel a sharp prick on your neck, you stay as still as you can as he bites down onto you. His hot breath panting along your neck, drinking slowly as he begins to calm. 

Eventually, he pulls back. There’s pain on his face but not from the bloodlust. 

“This can’t go on forever…” His face turns upward into a half sour smile, “You. Me. This war. Everything…”

“Jihoon?” His eyes are distant and he doesn’t seem to hear you. You can’t describe it but something feels strange, wrong, even. 

𝔖𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 6𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔎𝔬𝔨𝔰𝔞𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 By the time Jihoon’s injuries heal, it’s early autumn. Battles still rage along the fronts, and Silla inches nearer and nearer towards its goal. Jihoon hasn’t received any orders of late, but you feel that that’s about to change when you hear Wonwoo storming down the hallway.

You’re settled in the main room with Jihoon, Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Junghwan and Dohoon when the doors burst open, Wonwoo shouting, “I have news from Wong Kunhang! He says were to launch an offensive against Pyongyang.”

“Pyongyang? That’s the capital….” Junghwan says seriously, glancing towards Jihoon.

In other words, this may be the push to finally close in on Goguryeo. 

“What now then?” Dohoon looks to Jihoon as well.

“We’ll need to get there as soon as possible. No doubt Kunhang has some elaborate plan to route out their forces.” You haven’t seen Jihoon this excited in a while, and the others in the room pick up on his energy.  

“Our ships have already been sent to Ongjin, they will be able to converge on Pyongyang once the situation up north has settled.” 

“Then I should go to Ongjin first,” Seungcheol says, “We should establish a stronghold for when the main body of men arrives.” 

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous to have our representative be someone from the Fury Corps?” You postulate to the group.

“My father’s family is from Ongjin, you know.” Seungcheol says quietly, “I have a few connections there. I feel I am most suited to lead the advance guard. There’s… Something else that’s been bothering me as well.”

“Bothering you?” You question but all he does in response is nod and smile. 

“Seungcheol… you’re supposed to be dead, aren’t you?” Soonyoung interrupts, “Seems like that might be an issue.”

“A minor detail,” he waves it off, “easily dealt with.”

“In that case, he’s probably the best choice,” Wonwoo murmurs. 

“No,” Jihoon disagrees, “The Fury Corps isn’t cut out for that. You still can’t stand up during the day.” 

“It’s difficult, certainly, but not impossible.” Seungcheol argues, “I don’t see any reason to just follow behind the rest of the army, and I’d be glad to push myself for this.”

You don’t doubt his ability to do that, but you do question the validity of his motives. 

“There’s… a bit more to his message,” Wonwoo says after Jihoon and Seungcheol have been staring at each other for a moment. “Kunhang will be leading his men to Tagok Pass in hopes of stalling the Goguryeo reinforcements. I believe he means to buy time so that our allies can sack the city without interference. But…”

“The pass is on the front line right now,” Soonyoung drums his fingers along the hilt of his sword. “I understand what he’s trying to do, but I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as he thinks it’ll be.” 

“That’s a good point,” Junghwan sighs, “The enemy’s getting desperate, and we don’t know what else they’ve got up their sleeves.”

“If we want Kunhang to come back alive, we need to send some reinforcements to go along with him,” Jihoon ascertains. 

“I disagree.” Seungcheol frowns. “If we are to win in Pyongyang, we must arrive there at full strength.” 

“Are you saying we should abandon Kunhang then?” Hansol asks.

“Well, if both of our forces are wiped out by Goguryeo, there is hardly any point at all.” 

The men all shoot glances at one another, formulating their own thoughts and responses before Hansol speaks once more, “I will remain with Wong. Without their aid in previous battles none of us would be here. I will go to Tagok Pass. Jihoon, please take the rest of the men to Ongjin.” 

“Hansol, you–” Jihoon’s eyes grow wide.

“Then I’ll go and prepare to depart.” Before giving Jihoon a chance to respond, Seungcheol stands quickly and leaves the room.

Soonyoung doesn’t seem particularly happy about the way things have gone either, and after a moment of furious thought, he stands as well, “I guess I’ll go with him. Don’t really want to let him out of my sight, you know.”

 “Yeah,” Jihoon nods, “That’s probably smart.” 

“Be careful, Soonyoung,” you say as he walks past you. He gives you a small smile and a wink, then dashes out the door after Seungcheol. 

“Jeon,” Jihoon looks at the man still at the door, “I need you to go and tell Kunhang what we’ve decided.” 

“Understood,” Wonwoo says quickly, “I’ll be off as soon as I can.” 

Once he leaves, Hansol turns to Jihoon. Whether or not he was waiting for the room to be cleared, you’re unsure. 

“Please survive. No matter what happens.”

“What’s the matter?” His brow furrows as he looks to the other, “That came from nowhere.” 

“In the Hwarang, you and Youngmin upheld the path of a true warrior.” Even when slanted by their own kingdom, they had never compromised what they stand for. “Our standard of truth is a banner for everyone who fights. We lead the way.”

Hansol and Jihoon look at one another silently, before Hansol continues. “As the man who made the Hwarang into what it has become, it must be your duty to carry that standard. Every Hwarang before you and after is relying on that.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Jihoon replies with his thin lipped grin. “I’ll promise you this though, I’ll stick around until the Hwarang’s dead, or I am.”

“Thank you, Chief.” Hansol smiles, eventually turning to you, “I leave Jihoon in your care.”

The words are few but hold great emotion behind them, “We’ll be fine. I’m sure of it… After all, I don’t think he could die even if someone killed him. I’ve seen him on the verge of death many times, but he always pulls through. So,” your jaw locks and you look directly into Hansol’s eyes, “Please don’t die, Hansol.”

The battle at Tagok Pass is sure to be an intense one. Many lives, you’re sure, are going to be lost.  

“I won’t die even if I get killed?” Jihoon’s eyebrow piques, “That’s quite a statement. If you’ve got time to worry about me, maybe you oughta be worrying about yourself too, Hansol.” He’d said it as a joke but there’s no mistaking his underlying sincerity. 

“I won’t die easily either. After all, I will be fighting in the name of the Hwarang.” Hansol says calmly and then addresses you, “Thank you for your kind gesture.” 

And so, you accompany Jihoon to Ongjin. He’s still gravely concerned about Hansol, thus he’d ordered Wonwoo to remain alongside him at Tagok Pass. Leaving them both turns out to be much more difficult than you’d imagined. All you can do is pray that they survive, and that you will meet again someday.  

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 1𝔰𝔱, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 As winter takes hold, the cold wind blows down on the main body of the Hwarang as they arrive in Ongjin. The trip had been impeded by several small snowstorms, but now upon your arrival a new problem is encountered: Seungcheol and the Fury Corps were nowhere to be found. Soonyoung, too, had been unheard from.  

From the townspeople in Ongjin, you hear disturbing rumors that murder has been on the rise in recent weeks. 

Upon reaching the regional minister’s house, you’re met with a man who splits a grin as soon as he sees Jihoon. “Long time no see, Lee. How are you?”

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Qian.”

Later on, you learn that this man is Qian Kun, the Tang navy’s second-in-command. When the Yamoto forces had fired upon Sabi some years earlier, Kun had been in command of the Tang ships that aided the Silla forces on land. While Jihoon hadn’t been at the battle, he was able to speak with and befriend the man when he visited Seorabeol some weeks later. 

“Have you already heard about Youngmin?” Kun frowns,as Jihoon nods. “I apologize for having been unable to help. Your kingdom has truly lost a great man.”  

“He would’ve been happy to hear you say that,” Jihoon says with a bitter smile, “But he wouldn’t want us to stand around crying about him. He’d want us to get to work. Can you give me a rundown of what we’re working with?”

“Unfortunately I don’t have the greatest news,” Kun says, “While we’ve secured the city, there is something… wrong occurring. I have requested a meeting with the newly implemented officials but I haven’t received any form of response. To top it off, there’s a suspicious group of men running around Ongjin. Well, there are rumors, at least.”

“Suspicious how?”

“Well murders have increased, and a few rumors report the assailiants running back to the minister’s home.” 

Suspicious men running around, possibly murdering civilians… Seungcheol and the Fury Corps unreachable… It isn’t hard to put two and two together. 

Jihoon and you lock eyes, no doubt thinking the same thing. 

“If this continues we may become sidetracked here from our main goal,” Qian states, “Perhaps if we could arrest these murders and restore peace in this area…”

“Kun, think you could leave the murders to me?” The other man opens his mouth to protest, but something in Jihoon’s gaze makes him change his mind and he nods. 

“Alright, I’ll leave this one to you. No more questions from me.” 

Once Kun returns to his men, you turn to Jihoon, “Do you think it’s Seungcheol…?”

“Can’t say,” Jihoon sighs out breathily, “You heard the same things I did. No way to know for sure but if it is… I’ll have to kill him.”

“Jihoon…”

“He got pretty freaked out when he heard about where a Fury's power comes from. Might be he’s pretty depressed right now. Maybe crazy.” He shakes his head and looks to the minister’s house, “Strange things are afoot in Ongjin. We can’t be careless.” 

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 2𝔫𝔡, 666 - 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The next day, Jihoon begins his investigation. Despite your attempts to convince him that he still needs rest, not the stress of a murder investigation, he presses on. And so, that is how you find yourself lounging around the rooms the Hwarang are occupying while Jihoon goes off on rounds with the rest of the men.

You’re engrossed in reading over some medical papers Namekawa had left you with when you receive an unexpected visitor. 

“Where were you this whole time?!” The papers drop from your grasp as Kwon Soonyoung steps into the room, “We couldn’t contact you, we were all so worried…”

“Do you know where Jihoon is?” He doesn’t answer your question, but rather jumps straight to the chase. 

“He’s off doing rounds at the minister’s estate…” 

“Ah,” Soonyoung looks a bit crestfallen, “Can you give him a message for me? I can tell you everything since we got here. Just make sure you pass it on to him.”

You gulp, waiting for him to open up. “The minister isn’t being cooperative. Chances are they're being pressured by the enemy somehow. At least that's what Seungcheol thinks. So, we looked around a little more and while we were doing that we found out that Heo is actually here.”

“What?!” You cry out at the unexpected revelation. Your father had been forced to do research on the Furies by the revivalists before the war broke out, or at least that's what you thought. 

“Yeah… and… he seems to be leading a unit of Furies for the Goguryeo forces.” Soonyoung frowns, “Well we figured we could just let that slide so we started watching their Furies, you know, where they go and stuff and well… I saw Seungcheol meeting with Heo.”

Soonyoung explains that Seungcheol told him they'd be more likely to get spotted if they moved together and went off on his own. This is pretty peculiar on its own but sometime after they split up Soonyoung witnessed Seungcheol meeting with your father. 

“I don’t know anymore… I don’t know what Seungcheol is thinking.”

“It doesn’t mean that Seungcheol is connected with Goguryeo, does it?” Your brow furrows. 

“If that were the case then there wouldn't be a need for him to lie to me though, right?” Soonyoung says frustratedly, “Doesn't act like he's got any plans to contact the rest of the Hwarang. I just didn't know what to do…” 

You’re not sure what else to say and just before you open your mouth you hear a commotion happening at the entrance of the building. The door to your room is kicked open and several strange men suddenly leap inside. 

“Who the hell are they–?! Shit!” Soonyoung shouts as they unsheathe their swords and lunge after him. He dodges the attack easily drawing his own sword as he moves. He strikes out at one of the men before he has a chance to recover. The man laughs and the spot where Soonyoung had struck him is beginning to heal immediately. Suddenly, the man's eyes begin to grow a deep crimson you understand what you're up against.

“Furies…!” 

“Get behind me!” Soonyoung reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you backwards.

“Now, there’s no need for that,” a new voice says from the entrance. You feel your eyelids footer incredulously after hearing a man's voice.  It's familiar… nostalgically so. 

“Father?!” You’re frozen in place as Soonyoung continues to fight the Furies. 

“What the hell!? Who are these guys! It's broad daylight! How are they moving swiftly?!”Although he's Clearly they're superior regards to swordsmanship, he's outnumbered and the daylight had weakened him. He's slow and his strikes are unsure. 

Your father maintains his cool composure, and he mutters under his breath as he observes the events, “Aren't they wonderful? Furies no longer restrained by the cycles of day and night.”

“You…” You stare at him, mouth agape, “You did this?”

“Of course, my child. I am unsure if the news has reached you yet but I was captured by the Goguryeo Army, and in this captivity I continued to research the pimul.”

“Father– you need to stop them!” You look to your friend fighting, “At this rate he’ll–” 

Heo Jinsang’s eyes widen as if he’s only just remembered and he looks over to Soonyoung with a smile. “Ah, yes. I don’t know how to thank you. Without you, it would have taken much longer to find my daughter.”

“You followed me?!” Soonyoung spits through grit teeth. 

Ignoring him, your father looks back to you and speaks with a soft voice, “I’ve come to get you. At last, we’ll be able to restore our clan.” 

“Clan…? You mean the Heo family?”

“With these superior Furies, restoring the glory of our clan will be child’s play.” Heo laughs, “Once the kingdoms bear witness to the potential of these breakthroughs, they cannot ignore us! We can even wipe out the Demon clans who rejected our plea for help, avenging our kin!”

“You’re planning on using Furies to restore the Heo lineage to power?” 

“Yes, I am. Everything I have done was for you.” His voice evokes the same tone he had used to speak to you when you were a child. You shake your head to combat it and his eyes narrow. With a few swift footfalls, he closes in, “You’ve been with the Hwarang for too long. They’ve corrupted you.”

No… It isn’t you who’s changed, it’s your father. 

“Goddamn it! Get off me you bastards!” Despite being out of breath, Soonyoung manages to swipe at the Furies with his sword, giving himself space. However, no matter the amount of wounds he’s able to inflict on them, they heal immediately.  

“Father…” 

“If we just sit down and talk this through, I’m sure you’d understand.” Your father’s face lies in a stony demeanor. 

“I–!” Before you can say anything else, he drives his fist into your stomach. Stars leap before your eyes, the world grows dark and you slip into unconsciousness.  

When you awake, you’re in an unfamiliar room. 

“Where…” Your hands gripping your head as you sit up, “Where am I?”

“You’re at the minister’s estate.” A voice says before you and you widen your eyes.

“Seungcheol?!” You cry out before noticing the figure next to him. Beside him stands your father. 

“What’s going on here?” You say as you scramble to your feet. “Why are you two together?!”

“I met with Heo secretly here in Ongjin, and we’ve agreed to work together in order to do Fury research.” Seungcheol explains, resting his arm on the hilt of his sword. 

“Then… You’re working with Goguryeo? You’ve betrayed Silla… Betrayed the Hwarang…”

“Is that what you think?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, “Interesting…” Explaining himself had never been one of Seungcheol’s strong points.

“How are you feeling, my child?” Heo asks sympathetically, “I apologize for the rough treatment. I hope you aren’t too hurt.” His tone is intimate and caring, you feel yourself wavering towards the father you used to know. 

“I suggest you make no attempts to escape…” Seungcheol says calmly but with more intimidation than you’d seen from him before, “We could make that difficult. In any event, it was reckless of you to bring her here, Heo.” He glances at you before continuing, “Jihoon is no fool. Her disappearance will surely mean that he will be onto our plans. I expect him at any moment.” 

“You told me that if I wanted to know where my daughter was, I just had to follow Kwon to the Hwarang.”

“Yes. I did.” Seungcheol’s lips curve into a frown, “But I never suggested to kidnap her. Alas, what’s done is done. No point arguing about it. We need to be thinking about what this could mean, and plan for it.”

 “I’m sure the Furies I left to deal with Kwon will return to the estate soon, you needn’t worry about the future.” Heo shrugs.

“What did you do to Soonyoung?” Your voice nearly breaks.

“I doubt he survived. After all, I did bring quite a few of them.” 

Your whole body shakes. You want wholeheartedly to not believe it, but the Furies that your father had brought were unlike any you’d ever seen before. Soonyoung had already looked pale and weak even before he’d started fighting…

“You just have to assume I’m dead?” A voice says from the open doorway, “C’mon, that hurts my feelings…” He’s leaning against the frame and someone brushes past him, glaring at Seungcheol and your father.

“You alright?” Jihoon asks as he looks at you. 

“I am!” You nod vigorously and he lets out a snort of laughter. 

“How did you find us?!” Heo asks incredulously, “I’ve made so many improvements on my Furies. How could you have destroyed them all?”

“Improvements? If you say so, but if you want to take out the Hwarang, you’ll need about ten times what you sent.” Jihoon smirks.

“I figured you’d be here soon,” Seungcheol murmurs, “You didn’t bring any of the men, though… Well, I suspected you wouldn’t. Still, doesn’t it seem rather reckless for the two of you to charge headfirst into unknown enemy territory?” 

“Explain.” Jihoon’s eyes narrow at Seungcheol, “Why didn’t you contact us?”

“There’s nothing for you in Ongjin.” Seungcheol says simply.

“I was given orders by Yeon Gaesomun to come here. They told me to take my Furies and kill the traitors who reside here. However, I found such a plan unagreeable when so many test subjects reside here…” Heo sighs out.  

“We found common ground in our distaste for Goguryeo,” Seungcheol explains, “and thusly decided to seize Ongjin for ourselves.”

“So you’re not fighting with our enemy…?” You struggle to piece together everything.

“I’m on your side, child. I have no intention of taking part in mankind’s disputes.” Your father says as he crosses his arms, “Let us bring retribution to the humans who destroyed our clan and the Demons who betrayed us. It is in our destiny to forge a new Demon kingdom with our own hands– no, we will be the only Demon clan!”

You recall Sooyoung explaining how the Heo village had been destroyed by humans. Even then, you can’t get yourself to agree with your father.

Just then, the sound of footsteps loudly resound out from the hallway. Furies pour into the room as Seungcheol smiles, “Ah, they seem to have noticed our intruders.”

“Hey–!” Jihoon’s eyes widen as he notices their faces, “They’re the Hwarang’s–!”

“Not only does this castle hold the remnants of Goguryeo’s Fury army, but also of the Hwarang’s Fury Corps.” Seungcheol crosses his arms, “All of the Furies that exist in both Kingdoms are gathered here.” 

Red eyes surround Soonyoung, Jihoon and you. No humanity resides in their gazes. 

“Please give us your help,” Your father calls out to you, “We need you to lead us. You must command the Furies and restore the Heo clan.” 

But you don’t care about restoring the clan. You don’t want to create more Furies so that blood can drive them mad. You don’t want to see more suffering. 

“Father… you’re wrong.” Heo’s eyes go wide when you speak. “Building a kingdom on the corpses of others isn’t right! I can’t agree to it!”

Human or Demon, every life is precious. Just because your home village was destroyed doesn’t mean you can oppress humans. 

“I believe Heo was saying that he’d be willing to assist the Hwarang.” Seungcheol interjects, looking at Jihoon. “What do you think, Lee? Would you like to lead this army of Furies against Goguryeo?” 

“You know the answer.” With Jihoon having been against Furies from the very beginning, you doubt he’s changed his mind about them.

“So I suppose that ends our negotiation.” Seungcheol sighs, slowly drawing his sword from its scabbard. “Very well…”

You stiffen, yet Jihoon doesn’t move towards his own blade. He remains still, cooly contemplating Seungcheol. Almost as if someone’s dumping white ink on it, Seungcheol’s hair slowly changes to white and he raises his sword.

Instead of swiping at Jihoon though, he cuts down a Fury standing nearby him. 

“All a Fury exists for is battle, and now we’ve taken that away from them…” Seungcheol shakes his head with a sigh, “The least I can do for them is let them die here, in battle.”

The room falls silent. Then it explodes in noise– the enraged cries of the Furies and the rattle of swords being drawn. 

“Soonyoung–” Jihoon says quickly.

“I know!” The younger shouts and drops into a fighting stance, slipping his hand around the hilt of his sword. A grin splits on his lips as his hair turns white, “Seungcheol, this is way too badass for an old guy like you! Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“Well,” Seungcheol chuckles, “as they say, to fool your enemies, you must first fool your friends.” Their swords whistle and spark through the air, Fury after Fury falling before them. “Besides, doesn’t the hero’s right-hand man make the best villain?”

Jihoon responds with a bark of wry laughter and draws his own sword in a flash of silver light as his hair turns white as well. The men get into their stances and face the Furies as Furies themselves.

“The hell are you talking about?” Jihoon says with a grin, “Still means the hero gets stuck cleaning up the damn mess.” 

As their three swords spin and hiss through the air, blood gushes and spatters, painting the walls of the estate a deep red. Wave after wave conquered, they drown their foes in a sea of blood. You notice that your mouth has gone dry, your hands beginning to shake. In the corner, you spot your father sitting down.

“Everything you told me was a lie?” Heo asks Seungcheol. “You said you wanted to do more research on the Furies in the kingdom of Demons… Why?”

“I saw the end.” Seungcheol answers, “I was trying to discover a way for Furies to live past their… limits. Our short lifespans made me impatient. To continue my research I even dirtied my hands.” Every suspicious thing he had done had been in the service of a single goal: saving his fellow Furies. “We have no future as Furies. You know this as well as I do, Heo.”

“No matter how resistant you make them to sunlight, they will push themselves too hard, and their lifespans will shrink and the bloodlust will drive them mad.” Seungcheol confirms the truth you’d all suspected: there is no way to save the Furies. “We are a mistake: a failed experiment. Furies are not something that should exist in this world. Let’s end this.”

Seungcheol’s true intentions leave you surprised, as does his admission that the Furies are a failure. Is he right? Can they not be saved? Has all hope been lost? You let your mind drift for a moment, and then you see a shadow move in the corner of your eye– A Fury only feet from you, his eyes red and mad with bloodlust. You reach for your sword but it’s too late.

Before your hand even touches the hilt, you see the Fury’s blade sweeping toward you. Blood splashes down onto the floor before you, but it isn’t yours. A figure standing before you had taken the blow in your stead.

“Father?!” 

The Fury pulls back for another swing but then it freezes, gurgles oddly and slides neatly in half, a blade glistening in the center.

“Turn your back on us in a fight, will you?” Jihoon spits as he looks down to the halved Fury, “Idiot.” He shifts his eyes up to your father’s wound, and you see his face twitch. Immediately, he moves closer and turns his back to the two of you, sword held at the ready.

“Are you… alright? Are you hurt anywhere?” Your father asks as he turns to look at you. There’s blood splattered all over his chest. The wound, now that you can see it, is undoubtedly a fatal one. 

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. I’m not hurt at all,” you say quickly. His hand reaches out and grasps your shoulder, he falls to his knees and you follow after him. Quickly you lay him on his back, clutching at his hand. 

“Our research was a… failure. I knew there was no future for the Furies…” He murmurs out as tears begin to well in your eyes, “But I couldn’t give it up… I wanted to bring back your clan, your family.” Ever since you were young he’d always tried to do what was best for you. “It seems my fate is to die with the Furies… I have committed terrible sins. This is for the best, please, don’t cry.” 

You nod your head knowing that if you’re to open your mouth the tears would never stop. He gives you one last smile, sighs a calm breath and is gone.

After what seems like an eternity, you look up. The battle is over. The Furies that came to fruition by the Hwarang and your father lie dead, scattered around the room. 

“Kind of a waste, isn’t it?” Seungcheol says as he looks at the bodies, “That many Furies could have been awfully useful… The Hwarang could have used these men.”

“You don’t win battles by thinking you’ll lose them.” Jihoon says.

“Well, you don’t win by thinking you’ll win either,” Soonyoung snorts with laughter, then coughs to cover it up.

It’s true, the Hwarang had lost a lot of Furies but their unity had grown stronger.

“Ack–!” A sudden burst of pain wipes the grin from Soonyoung’s face. Seungcheol, too, has doubled over in agony. Their hair which had returned to normal goes back to stark white. 

“Looks like we’ve reached our limit,” Seungcheol says through grit teeth.

Minhyun’s words suddenly flash to you. The Fury’s power isn’t a gift from the gods. You’re only borrowing life that you would spend decades on. 

Soonyoung sees your eyes go wide and gives you an awkward sort of laugh, “We were some of the first Furies.” They’d been in more battles as Furies than anyone else, and all of the strength and healing they’d enjoyed ate away at their futures until there was nothing left. 

“Did you know…?” The question leaves Jihoon as a whisper. 

Seungcheol smiles and then gives a slow nod, “What warrior doesn’t know his own body?” His legs suddenly shake violently and he falls to the floor, Soonyoung soon following. 

Jihoon drops to his knees and takes both of their hands in his own.

“Jihoon… Do you remember?” Seungcheol remineces weakly, “Back when we were at Kwak Hall, we would spend all night talking.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon nods, “We would say that Youngmin would never be content with being just the heir of a small school. We promised to do what we could for him…”

“Who would’ve thought he would leave this world before us?” Seungcheol frowns and his voice grows quiet, “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but without you, we couldn’t have built up the Hwarang.”

“Same goes for you too…” Jihoon says with a small smile, “You were the one that always calmed me down whenever I’d start a fight with Yixing.” He’s doing his best to act tough so that Soonyoung and Seungcheol won’t worry. 

“Looks like we’re taking the lead this time… Don’t be in too much of a hurry to catch up though, alright?” Soonyoung adds in a bright and kind tone, “I mean, you barely had any time to rest since you joined the Hwarang.”

Jihoon just nods.

“I’m having a hard time buying that ‘yes’. You’re a little too short-tempered to keep a promise like that…”

“Shut it, you little brat. You really think I’m gonna take that crap from you?”

Soonyoung’s face relaxes as Jihoon snarls back at him. Even in this moment, Jamein’s tender and kind for the benefit of his Chief. 

“You must go south.” Seungcheol suddenly says. “Heo said he used water from Tamna when he was refining the pimul.”

Your eyes widen– perhaps there still is hope. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance something south can repair the curse of the Fury to these men. Seungcheol’s last words are the fait muster of hope for the fate of the Furies. 

“Jihoon… Don’t… don’t lose sight of what matters, alright? Being reckless doesn’t work out so well.” Soonyoung’s voice has grown rough and raspy. Jihoon’s knuckles whiten as they tighten around his comerade’s hands. But with a sound like sand pouring over a stone, their hands crumble into ash. In moments, they are no more. 

“Jihoon…” You call out but he doesn’t answer. He only stares, silent, at the twin piles of ash that sit where his friends were only moments before. There aren’t any tears in his eyes, but even so he’s somehow crying. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there before he stands up. The room that includes only you two is devastatingly quiet.

“Let’s go.” He says quietly, his voice curt and clipped. Yet, when he turns to you, his eyes suddenly go wide. “Hey, no crying.”

You nod, trying to stop, but it’s no good. The tears don’t pause, regardless of how much you wipe them away. In one day– an hour– you’ve been forced to say goodbye to Soonyoung, to Seungcheol… and the father you haven’t seen in over a year.

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 17𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The events of the magistrate’s house resonate with you for a while, and after some time has passed you find yourself alone again, standing in front of the estate. Wisps of snowflakes fall around you, wind hitting your cheeks and chapping your lips.

“They sure took their sweet-ass time,” Jihoon quips as he exits the front gates of the building. His worn expression indicates a worried tiredness. 

“Hello,” you greet him, “How was the meeting?”

“How? Hmph.” He shakes his head, “Those idiots north of Pyongyang don’t like any of the plans we’ve proposed, even with Kunhang and I poking around as often as we are. Apparently with the incident here and continuing at Tagok, Munmu doesn’t trust us yet to act. That’s the bullshit they relayed! Can you believe that?”

Jihoon paces the front gate, arms crossed and breath puffing in the air, “They act all high and mighty on their capital in the north, but pussy out when it’s time for the final push. It’s pathetic, Munmu hasn’t done shit and is relying on the Tang for everything.” He frowns, “Whatever. Let’s head back to the inn, the sun’s really beating down today.”

“Okay…” A cloud of frustration seems to follow you as you return to the inn, most notably in Jihoon. “We’ll be there soon enough, hang in there.” His skin looks pale and watching him in silent agony makes your heart ache.

“Don’t worry about me,” he sighs, “How about you? Are you holding up alright?”

“I’m… fine. I mean, I’m pretty resilient.”

“How can you say that?” He lets out a dry laugh, “You stay up all night just to tend to me…”

“I’m tough.” You smile back, “When you finally fall asleep, it gives me the peace of mind so that I can rest easily too.” 

Jihoon’s lips curl and he doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer. Instead, he just stares at you. He turns his head gradually to the hues of red and orange covering the winter sky in the distance. You follow his lead and look towards the horizon. 

“Huh…?” Your vision suddenly blurs. 

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Jihoon’s right next to you, but yet his voice sounds so distant. 

Before you know it, your body collapses to the ground. 

“Hey!” Jihoon shouts out, “You alright?! Hang in there!”

When you regain consciousness, you discover yourself tucked snugly in bed. 

“About time you woke up,” Jihoon says as you look around the room. “Do you know where you are right now?”

“Ah! Jihoon…” Once you  realize that it’s him, you snap out of your daze. “I’m sorry, I–” 

“You idiot!” He shouts, causing you to jump. “If you weren’t feeling well, you shouldn’t have gone outside. You should’ve rested!”

“I’m sorry…” It feels as if a stone has dropped into the pit of your stomach as he scolds you, and you can only look down at your hands. 

“Uhm, well… I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on you,” Jihoon sighs. “You’ve barely had any chance to rest, especially after what happened with your father’s passing… I can’t really be surprised that you would push yourself to act like everything’s normal.”

But he’s lost people too, and if you’re suppressing how you’ve been feeling you can’t imagine the turmoil happening within him,

“Until further notice, you don’t have to join me when I meet with members of the war council. You’re going to stay here to rest.”

“What?” You shake your head, “No, I’m fine. Today was just a lot to handle. So, please… I’ll be careful. I won’t let this become a problem again in the future.”

“Why? Because Youngmin, Chan and Eunseok asked you to watch after me or something?” His head tilts, “None of the men who died for us would have wanted you to look after me at the expense of your own health.”

He does have a point. But that isn’t the only reason you’re still here.

“I… I want to be by your side, Jihoon.”

“Yeah?” His brow furrows, “Why’s that?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” I, um…” You can’t continue. Of course, you know the true answer but to admit that is a bit too much. There’s no way you can tell him your feelings. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Well, fine. Whatever,” he waves it off, flashing his usual sense of detachment, muttering to himself,  “If you don’t want to tell me, I don’t care.” Caught up in his own thoughts, he mutters something shortly, “You were close with Namekawa, right?”

“I wasn’t close with him… My father was, though.” You admit, “However, he did watch after me frequently.” 

“I see. He’s a good man, but I just can’t seem to put my full trust in him.” 

“Okay…?” You can’t quite grasp the point Jihoon is trying to make. 

“If anything happens while we’re out here, I want you to find him and stay with him.” Jihoon states, “Even if Goguryeo catches you, they won’t touch you as long as you’re with him.”

“What? Why would they–”

“Look. When you’re at war, you can’t just prepare for victory. Gotta consider your defeat as well.” Jihoon crosses his arms, “I’m sure Doctor Namekawa will show up here any day, so when that happens…” He falls silent. After a while, he shakes his head tenderly, “Nothing. Forget it. I’m just rambling.”

In the empty space of your conversation, you try to sift through what Jihoon’s trying to say. All you can do is pray that this brief, peaceful reprieve will prolong itself for a bit longer. 

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 21𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 In the following days Kun and Jihoon make another trip to the war council stationed in the minister’s home. Although they hope their audience with the officials will be fruitful, it turns out to be less than eventful. 

“Yeah,” Kun sighs, “It’s no use. The water’s going to be frozen over soon enough, I get that. But waiting until it thaws in the spring…” 

“It’s idiotic,” Jihoon agrees. “Guess we should kick back and relax until then, huh?”

“Even if you’re joking it’s not funny.” Kun frowns, “We’re only giving them more time to reinforce Pyongyang.”

“Sure,” Jihoon says, “But it’s not like they’ve got anyone else to come in and save them. They’ll be holed up in the city, waiting for a reprieve. If they’re smart they’d have surrendered by now.”

“Knowing Gaesomun, it’s not like he’ll have a shortage of ideas of how to turn this around. For fuck’s sake he killed their last king to wrest power from him. I suppose we’ll refrain from making any rash decisions until we reunite with Boo.”

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 26𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 You find Jihoon in his apartments when you approach him, “I hear our forces are gathering in the north of the city… Are we leaving?”

“The Hwarang serves two things:” he sighs, “the King and the Kingdom. That hasn’t changed.”

“The Hwarang show the way, right?” You point out.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? All this time, we had those lords and ministers looking down and judging our actions. Now look at us.” You can almost recall Youngmin’s grin as Jihoon smiles. 

“Well, that’s one more reason not to die, then.” 

It’s a burden on him, undoubtedly, but Jihoon has seen many of his friends lay down their lives for the Hwarang and what it represents. Knowing what it had meant to them, he can’t allow himself to die.

“As long as the men believe in what we stand for, I can’t let the Hwarang die.” The doubt you’d seen in him weeks before is gone. He’s accepted his place at the head of the Hwarang. “I have to protect them.”

He looks over to you, his gaze warm, it makes you feel better than you have in a while. Just being next to him is enough to make you feel like everything is right in the world. 

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 30𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 A few more days pass and the men you’d left to go to Tagok Pass finally reach Onjin. Unfortunately, bad news comes with their victory over the pass.

“Hansol has fallen in battle,” Wonwoo reports, his head bowed, “His last words were ‘Leave the rest to Jihoon’...” 

Ever since this war started, you’re unsure of how many times you’ve seen this expression on a warrior’s face. You bite your lip until it almost bleeds.

Jihoon puts his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders, giving him some words of encouragement, “I’m sorry I put you through that, Jeon. I’m just glad you made it back alive.”

Wonwoo’s eyes grow wide and he looks overcome with emotion, “Th–Thank you sir!”

Soonyoung and Seungcheol lost their lives in Ongjin, and Hansol at Tagok… This means that Jihoon is the only Fury left among the Hwarang.

“It’s been hard already, but I’m pretty sure things are going to get worse,” Jihoon crosses his arms, “You’ve all fought enough, so…” 

Wonwoo sets his jaw and looks back at Jihoon, “I’ve given my life to the Hwarang, it just hasn’t been lost yet. We’ll follow you to the end of the world and back, sir.”

“Me too!” Junghwan says firmly, “I’ll follow you all the way!”

“Let me accompany you, no matter where it takes us!” Dohoon adds.

“You guys…”  Jihoon’s almost at a loss for words.

“We want to fight as the Hwarang, not as foot soldiers of Silla. We want to fight for the justice we believe in.” Wonwoo smiles at him reassuringly. 

You’re sure that if Youngmin were alive, he’d be crying. The Hwarang united in body and mind. A great happiness wells within you and suddenly you can’t hold it in any longer. Tears spill forth from your eyes.

“... Idiots.” Jihoon’s face twists into a sneer, but there isn’t any hiding the warmth in his eyes as he looks out over the men. They know the coming battle will not be an easy one, but there is no doubt in their mind: their place is with Jihoon and the Hwarang.

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 5: mile-high club

nct/wayv 1.9k words female reader insert Reader x Wong Kunhang (Hendery) NSFW

🖤 warnings: idol au, public sex, penetrative sex (f receiving), they fuck in an airplane okay idk what you expected🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

You have never wished for the gift of being clueless more than you're wishing for it in this moment.

Because, of course, you know too much. You're observant by nature, and you like that trait most of the time. It's helpful. It keeps things interesting.

It also means that you know full well that the person in the seat next to you on this half-full flight from Hong Kong to Seoul is famous.

You don't know who he is, exactly. It's not that serious. But you can tell just by looking at him that he's someone. Famous people have this air, especially these young sheltered ones. Not cocky, like rich American popstars. Nervous, as if they're about to be scolded at any time. This one looks like that.

He's handsome, though. From the peeks you've been able to sneak as the flight attendant handed you a water over him, anyway. He's got a hat on, and a mask, but you can see the telltale flawless skin and terrified eyes of a young, company-stranglehold celebrity.

There's a seat between you. He's in the aisle, you the window. It's still too close for comfort. You wish you were the kind of person who didn't notice things.

Because now, all you can think about is who he might be. What he might look like, under the careful disguise. And, kind of evilly, how many girls in how many countries would kill for the opportunity you have, here, just to be next to him.

It's only a three-hour flight.

So when the flight attendant returns with snacks - the only service on this short flight - you make the most of your chance to break the ice.

You drop your pretzels on him.

The bag is closed, of course. You're not a monster who's about to waste a snack for attention. But it falls into his lap, and he barks out a startled laugh.

"Sorry," you say, flashing him your best smile.

Like you'd expected, he jumps at being addressed. His eyes dart to you.

It's as if he thinks any person who looks at him is going to whip out a camera and start making calls. So-and-so from such-and-such group is here! Look!

"Can...I have my pretzels?" you ask gently.

"Oh!" He startles all over again, snatching up the little packet and holding it in your general direction.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Words. That's progress.

"D'you fly this route a lot?" you ask.

He actually looks at you this time. "...A couple times a year, maybe?"

You nod. "This was my first trip to Hong Kong."

"For what?"

Ice, broken.

"Work," you say.

Your business trip was three days and two nights, and you've been bored out of your mind since you left your hotel room the first morning. Conferences are inherently boring. This is the most fun you've had in weeks, as you watch this anonymous celebrity's curious eyes as you give a vague summary of your long weekend abroad.

"Me, too," he says, when you've finished.

You grin. "You?"

"Yeah."

"You work?"

The two of you obviously aren't speaking his first language right now, but he catches your joke easily. "Do I look like I don't work?"

"You look..." you hesitate, and he notices.

He notices, and he wilts. As if he's expecting you to realize, to recognize. To ruin this moment of human to human.

"I-"

"Good," you interrupt, before he can shut down on you completely. "Too good. Like a nepo baby."

"Nepo baby." He turns the phrase over on his tongue.

"Nepotism. Personality hire. Friend of a friend? Daddy's money, maybe?" you tease.

He smiles. His mask is still on, but you can tell by the crinkling lines near his eyes.

"All talent."

It's a hint, a little hint about who he really is. You just let it lie.

You grin back, but you sit more firmly in your seat, straightening up from the way you'd been leaning toward him to talk. You've done your searching, now you can give him some space.

That lasts for about one episode of television on the cramped little seatback screen.

After that one episode, your handsome seatmate gets up to use the restroom, and he leaves his phone on the empty middle seat.

You don't think it's on purpose, but the phone is unlocked. Open, plain as day, messaging up all queued up and the most recent texts plainly visible.

You're not in the business of snooping, usually, but come on. You're only human. And the most recent message, one from your seatmate sent to a contact in a language that you can't read, says something in another language that you certainly can read.

Well, some of it. The word "pretty" stands out pretty starkly. The blushing emoji doesn't hurt.

So he thinks you're pretty.

When he comes back, you've got another episode playing, innocent as can be.

He sees the open phone, still just laying there, showing everything, and he grabs it so fast that he nearly drops it.

You let him sit with the question that he so obviously wants to ask for just a moment, or two. You can see his uncertain gaze, trying to wager if it's worth embarrassing himself.

You pull your earphone out on the near side, and you meet his eye. "I think you're pretty, too."

The earbud goes back in, as he faceplants into his palms.

There's only two hours of the flight left, now.

You can't even finish the episode. You're too curious.

"So, it's mutual," you say lightly.

"I guess so," he replies.

His voice is small, strangled with self-consciousness but also something else. You figure it out when you see him eyeing the row ahead. He must be on this flight with other people. People who wouldn't be too pleased to see him doing...anything, really. Company people, maybe, work people.

Well, you don't really want to get him in trouble. But he is very pretty.

"If you..." You're trying to word your question carefully. "If you could do something about that, would you?"

"Do something?"

"I think you're pretty. It's mutual. In some situations, people would do something about that."

You don't know why you're doing this. He's obviously nervous, and he's obviously famous. You also think he's probably out of your league, under that mask.

"I can't really do things like that," he says.

"Have you ever tried?"

The airplane cabin is only half full, maybe less, but like any flight, it's dark. Simulated nighttime, even for a short trip. Easier if the passengers sleep through the whole thing.

You stand up. Everyone in the rows around you - maybe six people, including the tired-looking middle-aged guy in the row ahead that your seatmate had been eyeing, and the two young men beside him - are asleep, with eyemasks and headphones. The works.

"You can come if you want."

He looks confused, until you head toward the restrooms at the center of the plane. You make sure he's watching which one you choose, and of course, he is. You lock yourself into the little booth, barely enough room for one person, and wait. You wash your hands, for good measure.

There's no reason why he would come. If the flight attendants catch you, if that guy he's with sees, the consequences could be-

But then there's a tentative little knock. Barely loud enough to hear, over the normal noise of the plane.

When you unlock the door, he pressed himself inside so quickly that you stumble against the rounded wall. He's got the mask pulled nearly all the way up to the brim of his hat, face completely hidden except for two very anxious eyes.

"You didn't have to-"

"I wanted to." He locks the door, leaning against it. "One crazy thing. Just once."

"Careful. If you like it, you'll have to do more," you say somberly.

He laughs softly, just a sharp breath. "Don't care."

Under the mask, he has a long, handsome, masculine face, classic like a movie star. Under the hat, he has long glossy black hair that practically touches his shoulders, cut in lovely rounded waves.

Under his shirt (though you don't take it off, for time and convenience), a thin, wiry physique that makes you think he's probably a dancer, not a model or actor.

Under his joggers, a pair of well-worn black boxer briefs that do not a single thing to hide his half-hardness, his length and girth that both have you wondering how you're going to walk out of here like nothing happened.

Under all of your clothes, it's just you, but the way he's watching as you strip the layers away makes you feel like you must not be half bad.

"Is this illegal?" you wonder, as you settle back against the wall with your panties hanging off one leg.

"Probably," he says. "Do you wanna stop?"

"No."

That's all he needs to hear, apparently, because he's got his length freed and your leg hitched around his hip lightning-fast.

"What can I...what's your name?" he asks, as the hot, broad head of him nudges up against you.

You're honest. You tell him your first name.

He smiles, showing off very straight, slightly overlarge teeth. "Call me Hendery."

It sounds like a fake name, because nobody's fucking name is Hendery, but now isn't the time.

Hendery pushes in, and you sigh, pitching forward to bury your face in the crook of his neck to muffle any other noises, and to avoid looking at his gorgeous face.

Eight hours ago you were having cheap coffee in a stupid boardroom with Ms. Li from the Hong Kong branch, and now you're having your insides rearranged in an airplane lavatory.

It's extremely unfair that this man is handsome, well-endowed, and somehow also talented, in this, regard, as he keeps a bruising pace while avoiding any kind of telltale rattling of the folding lavatory door, keeping you close but also letting you tip your head back again, expose your throat, stifle your noises into the meat of your arm.

"Wish you didn't have to be quiet," he says.

You huff out a laugh. "Unless you want paparazzi waiting for us, I gotta-"

"Paparazzi?" he grins. "What would they want?"

"You tell me."

He doesn't tell you, but he does grip you harder by the hip, use the leverage of this position to pull you in time with his motions, force you down harder, faster...

Maybe it's the adrenaline, or the risk, or the fear, or maybe this guy really is some kind of supernatural force, because your peak is looming. Your head is buzzing, your veins thrumming...

Hendery is gonna make you cum, like this.

You tell him, and he laughs. You can feel it reverbing in his thin chest. He trails his lips over your cheek, down to your throat.

Playfully, he bites.

Your world goes white.

-----

It's strange, to be back home so soon. Familiar soil, Incheon Airport arrivals, getting yourself a snack.

The convenience store is mostly empty, due to the late hour and the odd time of year. That's just fine, though, because it means that no one is around when you scream.

You don't mean to, of course. It's not even a whole scream, just a startled yelp. And you thank your lucky stars that the bottle in your hand doesn't pop when you drop it on the floor. The mess would just be the icing on this cringe cake.

It's a birthday message on the electronic screens at the mouth of the store. The kind of things that music and drama fans buy out for their idols, whitewashed photographs and cheesy well-wishes.

Happy Birthday to our prince, it reads.

His name really is Hendery.

Hm. Well.

You take your snacks, and head to checkout.

He looks better than that in person.

[mariisaaaaa]

NCT

i'm an action figure.

XIAOYANG

We're Looking at the Same Sky

Growing up, Xiao Dejun always questioned himself about the meaning of life and his place in the universe.

Liu Yangyang was different. Not in a bad way, but in an unworldly way; always dreaming with his eyes open.

Despite their divergences, they make it work. They always do.

worth it. 36k worth it. characterization bruhh. amen.

it's hard to breathe, you're everything

It was only five minutes into the ride to YangYang’s place that it dawned on Xiaojun that he had neither changed out of his soggy clothes nor brushed through his atrocious hair. He swiped his fingers hurriedly through his locks while panicking at the image of himself in his front-facing camera. The rational part of himself attempted to soothe his nerves with gentle reminders that YangYang rarely paid attention to people’s looks. But the puppy love in his heart was too busy shouting: 'YangYang looks cute without even trying! Did you know that? Do you remember when he fell asleep on your shoulder on the bus a week ago? What about when he - '

or

Xiao Dejun is very hungover and looking for his lost jacket while coming to terms with a crush on his friend.

just vibes. melancholic i love you this so much it hurts vibes. huahaha. friends to lovers ☆☆☆☆☆.

XIAODERY

Thinking of you 24/7

7-Eleven is open 24/7 and so is Guanheng’s mind. But only for the boy who buys mango yoghurt religiously at fifteen past two every morning.

the 7/11 au i didn't know i wanted. ate.

love on air

“Maybe, but he doesn’t know I exist,” the caller sighs. “Or, well, he does, but he doesn’t see me like that at all.” Dejun frowns at the words, his heart clenching on the boy’s behalf.

“I’m sure he could if he knew!” Dejun encourages, twisting the cord from the headphones around his fingers. "And even if he doesn’t like you that way, he’s made you want to be more honest about who you are. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s pretty cool.”

The caller lets out a small chuckle. “You know, you’re something else Xiaojun. I never thought about it like that.”

Or; Xiao Dejun is in denial, Hendery Wong is in love, and love is in the air. Or is it on air?

cute ^_^ can't stop smiling.

YOU_SHOULD_DATE_XIAOJUN.PPT

SINGLE? Have a single friend who wants to find The One? Put your academic skills to work and present why they deserve a chance at YOU_SHOULD_DATE.PPT!

Hendery raises his eyebrows. The flyer is for an event where you can be the best wingman ever! by pitching why a single friend deserves a date. In powerpoint form. To a group of assembled singles at a bar off campus.

Huh. Wasn’t Xiaojun complaining the other day about his single life woes?

ppt as plot device slays.

CHENJI

Cotton Candy Rosewater

He's wringing his hands, which bend in various impossible positions. He doesn't say anything, just looks at Chenle expectantly, dark eyes shining, so Chenle speaks. "Oh, hey! You're Jisung, right?" He supplies a cautious nod. "Cool! My name's Chenle." He expects Jisung to repeat it back, but he doesn't, just offers a smile that's more of a grimace than anything. He looks uncomfortable. Chenle reckons he's never seen a more anxious person in his life.

Chenle drinks weird Starbucks drinks, and the cute new barista has absolutely nothing to say to him.

so freakin' cute. sb cravings.

XIAOHENYANG

Someone to call home

Somewhere between investigating the murder of a god, preparing for an ancient funeral ritual and fighting off an organization of assassins, Yangyang learns to open up, Kunhang learns to trust, and Dejun learns to love.

Alternatively, the xiaohenyang genshin au I never knew I needed.

i blame this one for my future obssessions :)) fr fic that changed my life. bruhh i don't know where i'd be w/o reading this. a whole new world fr fr.

[jungcity]

𝟓𝟎𝟓.

GENRE: crime, romance, slice of life

PAIRINGS: bandit!hendery, sacristan!female reader

WORD COUNT: 27,632

SONG PROMPTS: Godless - BANKS, 505 - Arctic Monkeys, Some Unholy War - Amy Winehouse, Robbers - The 1975 | [full playlist here.]

WARNINGS: Please observe proper discretion for this story deals with themes of adultery, orphanhood, child abuse, child neglect, deaths, violence, manipulation and suggestive stuff.

NOTE: This is a part of the crime!au collaboration held by @neovisioned. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Please be aware that this story would have references that revolves around Catholicism. I am by no means wish to be exclusive to those who has the same religion as I. Upon pondering the plot of this story, religion would be a mandatory part, hence I chose mine since it is what I know best.

TAGLIST: @legendnct @cloudysuh @eyypeach @mjlkau @cherub-vivi

i. I believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth…

Trails of white smoke circled the candle as you snuffed out the fire from the matchsticks. The heavy rain raged on, with the branches slapping the gothic windows of Father Ben’s chamber. The priest sat on a rocking chair near the aperture, watching the thunder and lightning as they continue to battle for dominion over the heavens.

“Father,” you called out softly. He hummed but did not turn to face you. Over the months that you have worked and helped Father Ben tend to the church, you noticed how particularly silent he could be whenever the clouds are pouring. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” you asked.

For the past few days, Father Ben would tell you about shadows prowling around the church. Two boys, he claims. Sometimes they are three. Bandits, no doubt.

“Be careful on your way home, hija. Bring my umbrella so you won’t get soaked.” And that has been the last words he spoke.

You pressed your lips into a thin line. There would be no point forcing the priest. Perhaps he does not want your mother to worry about you.

You closed the door of the priest’s chamber and made your way down the creaky staircase. The church hadn’t been renovated since the middle of the pandemic that had swept across the whole world. This structure hadn’t tasted new paints and new rivets yet for ten years.

Father Ben resides where the choral sings everyday. Since Father lost all his relatives to the pandemic, he made it built for him. Perhaps that was the reason why he was too quiet. You haven’t lost anyone to it, but you knew a lot of people who died because of it and have friends who had lost their fathers and mothers, even siblings, to it.

You fastened the latch of every door inside the church before you walked towards the main door. Laying the lamp on the floor, you unlatched the wooden door. The blustery and frigid wind flows through the opening, misting your feet and right arm as you leaned to grab the lamp and struggle to open the umbrella.

By good fortune, the rain softened as you departed the church. Bougainvilleas wrapping the façade of the structure made eerie shadows as the moon casted down its light to it. You made your way to the small village you live in.

“Hail Holy Queen, Mother of mercy…” echoes the praying mothers and daughters in front of their altars.

You cannot not help but be fascinated by the orange lamp lights in their homesteads, as you saw the women of every family kneel and make their prayers. Ever since the end of the pandemic five years ago, your village has been humming novenas every six p.m. or eight p.m. at night. You heard it was the same for the neighboring village, too.

“Hail our life, our sweetness and our hope…” You heard the little voices of innocent children as they tried to copy the words. It made your heart flutter. “To Thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To Thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears.”

Until you reached your street, prayers echoed. Your house loomed as you turn left. Gathering your skirt, you hopped over a puddle of mud and continued walking.

“Mom, I’m home,” you declared upon stepping your feet inside.

Mom was on her usual place near the fireplace, knitting new pillowcases with the dim light from the fire. She turned her head to see you, then pulls down her reading glasses to examine your slightly soaked skirts.

“I thought you’re sleeping in the church?” she asked as she twiddled the needle with her fingers.

“Father Ben won’t allow me,” you simply answered as you trodded towards the kitchenette.

There was only one light inside the house. It was located between the kitchenette and living room. During the pandemic, all energy had been used to fuel hospitals as well as quarantine facilities for the affected citizens. Energy had been lacking ever since.

You went back to the living room with a plate in hand. Food has been scarce in this part of town. But your mother has a little vegetable farm in the backyard. So it’s vegetable salad every night.

“Tomorrow is the first Sunday of the month,” she began, “Did you prepare anything?”

You munched while watching the needle pierce through the fabric. “Mayor Rosales failed to give us sponsorship. But we have gathered some money from the houses nearby the highway.” Those people who live near the highway were what you could call the richer ones. They have convenience stores lining up, and they pretty much sell anything a villager might need. “Father wants to feed the children this time.”

“Would that be enough? The money?”

“We’ll make do,” you sighed.

Mother hummed. “Bring the vegetables tomorrow, then. I’ve harvested enough for ingredients.”

You smiled. “Thank you, Mother.”

ii. And in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord…

He came into your life like a fog in the dawn; mysterious, hazy, and cold. The boy with the secret of the universe in his eyes, and danger playing along his boyish smile rang your door in the year 2040. When hope has only started to rebuild itself after the terrors of a sickness nobody had been able to see.

Easy smile, childlike laughters and soft hair— that has been him.

Your first encounter had been outside the church. Where he leaned in a big motorcycle while puffing smokes from his cigarette.

“Kids, please line up according to your height,” you told the children softly. Big innocent eyes stared back at you with excitement.

When suddenly, Lucy, the other sacristan, gestured to you to come over the front line where the food is located. “No pushing,” you warned the kids before leaving them with Rei, another sacristan.

“What is it?” you asked.

Lucy motioned her puckered lips towards the exit. “Could you tell him to smoke somewhere else?”

You followed her gesture. And your gaze landed straight to him as he blew out smoke from his lips. He playfully inhales from the cigarette bud and puffed it carelessly in the air. He was looking straight at the spot where you were currently glued at. Both of you held each other’s eyes, and you felt lost in those mysterious orbs for a good second until Lucy cleared her throat to gather your attention.

Spontaneously, your brows immediately shot up in vexation. It was forbidden to smoke inside and around the church’s vicinity. You gathered your skirts and sauntered up to him. As you near closer to him, you have caught a sight of a black patch plastered on the side of his neck.

The boy cocked a brow as he saw you nearing. You ignored his reaction and cleared your throat. But your breath seemed to be sweeped out of your lungs yet again when you realized that the black patch was a tattoo. It reads the word pervivo. “Mister, it is not allowed to smoke around the church. Could you please take that somewhere else?”

Instead of tossing his cigarette, he took a long sip from the bud and blew the smoke to your face. Shocked and absolutely disgusted, you fanned away the smoke frantically while coughing out the chemical that has succeeded to reach your nostrils and throat.

“What the—”

“Fuck?” he finished. The smoke slowly dissipates, revealing his dead set of eyes staring at you. He, then, threw the bud to the ground before crushing the ashes with the tip of his boot. “Can’t really cuss in here, can you?”

Such audacity! Your nose flared while trying to collect the little patience left in your system. Boys like him never failed to irate you.

Smoothing out your skirt, you straightened your spine with as much dignity as you can muster. “Blowing smoke—”

For the second time, the boy interrupted you by waving his hand high up in the air. “Father!” he shouted. The boy jogged the distance towards the line of children in front of the church to clap Father Ben’s back. Frozen on your feet, you stared at him in horror.

“Do you know him, Father?” you motioned your head to the boy who was casually smiling from ear to ear beside the priest. As if he didn’t deadpan at you earlier.

Father Ben stretched his lips into what you could call a small smile. “Hendery’s from the city. He’s to be our new sacristan.”

There was literal ringing in your ears by what you have heard. Hendery? A new sacristan? “Wait…” You let out an incredulous noise. “What?”

“I’m Hendery Wong. I came here to be the new sacristan.” The boy stretched out his hand to you. You look at it with reluctance evidently etched through your face.

“I don’t understand,” you managed to say while shaking Hendery’s hand. He has been surprisingly calloused, juxtaposing his soft and pretty face.

“I know you will soon, hija,” Father Ben said, “And I trust you to help Hendery adjust to the work here. Can you do that?”

Hendery’s smile never left his face. It was as if he was relishing to the predicament that you were in instead of being friendly. However, you couldn’t really turn down Father Ben. And it was not right to jump on your prejudices. Cigarettes and tattoos doesn’t mirror someone else’s personality. Hendery deserved the benefit of the doubt.

So you sighed. “I can, Father. Rest assured that I’ll show Hendery around.”

Father Ben tapped your shoulder lightly before joining Lucy to prepare the food for the children, leaving you with the new boy.

“So,” he began, garnering your attention. When you turn to look at him, Hendery’s demeanor has already changed. Or perhaps it was only your judgment getting the best of you. But there was a spark of something dangerous in the way that he looked at you. As if his eyes were the tip of the cigarette he inhaled mere minutes ago. Flickering— with a promise of charring if you ever come close. “Shall we begin?”

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, you sighed deeply. “Could you wash and sanitize first? You know, you actually held a cigarette and we don’t wanna contaminate the food, right?”

His smile grew wider, erasing the enigma he exuded seconds ago. “Do you have a mask? You know, I’ve sipped a cigarette and we don’t want my spit to fly towards the food, right?”

You looked at him sharply. “Yes, we do have a mask. It’s become pretty mandatory since twenty years ago.”

Hendery stretcheso out his hand to let you walk first. From the long table on which the food has been placed, you grabbed a surgical mask to give to Hendery. When you turned to face him, he held up his hands suddenly.

“I haven’t yet washed my hands. I’ll appreciate it if you’ll put those here,” he said  while pointing at his ear.

He really was something. And you have found it oddly… endearing. You haven’t known ice and fire could co-exist in a single person. Until you have met him. You gulped— and you have no idea why— as you draped the strings of the mask around his ears. His mouth and nose disappeared, but that failed to decrease his beauty.

What is happening to you? In your whole existence, you have met boys with stars in their eyes but this has been your first time to see the whole universe in someone else’s irises.

You shook your head as Hendery departed in front of you to wash his hands.

Pretty boys are only boys until you try to make a verselet out of them. That was the line you have never wanted to cross.

Hendery would only be a word. Not poetry. Or would he?

iii. He was conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit, and born of the Virgin Mary…

When you were amongst the poor during the pandemic, your survival rate would be extremely challenged. Luckily for you, your father had run a small business that successfully provided for your family during those trying times.

Five years ago, the world made its reset when it came to economy and livelihood. Almost all businesses shut down. The luxuries and opulence of the year 2020 had been vanquished completely.

Billionaires finally witnessed that they weren’t the gods they once thought they were as the claws of the sickness reached their thrones and destroyed their castles.

Regardless of the Internet’s power, trade fell. With it the Internet celebrities in YouTube, Tiktok, Instagram, Twitter— you name it.

Notwithstanding, the 2020’s pandemic hadn’t been the only one to devastate the Earth.

There had been multiple environmental issues, like the raging of wildfires in sundry forests across the globe. World War III also threatened to break out of its cage as countries fought for dominance over lands they clearly had no business to claim.

Police brutality rages on. Their authority had been used for mayhem other than peace. It has breached the lives of people, especially to that of the black community. Everything went clusterfuck because the authorities think some people are inferior to them. They harmed rather than serve.

Chaos. Death. Fear. Those three things have managed to leave a blotch of bleakness that now blanketed the Earth.

The death toll exceeded that of the Black Plague that had swept across Europe hundreds of years ago. Hospitals transformed to that of a colony— the patients as the ants. Total panic enveloped everyone. Especially the poor, whose only shield against it had been a little bottle of alcohol.

Great Depression two-point-o, some would call the economy right now. Minimal jobs were offered, but the salary won’t be enough to feed a family of four.

Poverty’s poison didn’t fail to contaminate the globe. It strengthened its hold to the third world country, and flowed slowly to those in the upper level of society. Despite it all, everyone collapsed on its feet: adults with dreams for the younger generations. Teenager with dreams for the future. And children who were only starting to build their aspirations.

With it, the hopes of the seven-year-old boy who has the constellations in his eyes and a promise of tomorrow in his innocent face. It had all been obliterated because of heartache and neglect.

Hendery witnessed it every night; the shoutings of his mother, and the hopelessness in his father’s face as yet another job had turned him down. His bedroom walls didn’t muffle the sound— the silence only intensified it.

“You are a useless piece of shit!” her mother would scream.

Despite that, Hendery’s father would only cover his face with his hands. He would absorb every nag and every hurtful words his wife would throw at him. Because tomorrow would be another day to fight and he couldn’t afford losing the battle now. At least, that was what Hendery believed.

Never once did he hear his mother ask about his sake. Never once did he hear the words, “What about Hendery? He would starve!”

Starve he did.

A lanky seven-year-old, his neighbors would call him. Salt and rice every night. You only have to close your eyes and eat. Wash down the taste with water and sleep.

The home that was meant to give him comfort had turned his own hell. Its unfavorable walls would suffocate him every day. Its dull and dirty carpet would be his only friend for the days that would come.

And as if the world wasn’t done throwing knives and rocks at his back, Hendery found something that had completely deteriorated the little boy in him.

One day, when he was returning from their neighbor’s house— full and a little bit energetic— he found his mother’s clothes littered over the floor, with it were pants and shirts that didn’t belong to his father.

With his boy heart and still developing mind, Hendery sat in the kitchen. The noise of his mother’s adultery echoed across the whole house. Hendery patiently waited for it to stop, sitting there with his feet dangling from the chair.

Then the door clicked open, revealing his mother and the man he didn’t recognize. From his position to the kitchen, his mother failed to notice him. But Hendery could see everything unfolding before his very eyes. The unknown man picked up his clothes. When he was completely dressed, he fished for his wallet and handed Hendery’s mother money.

That night, there were sausages and eggs in the table. His mother was enthusiastic, but there was a dull spark in her eyes. His father, too, despite the smile on his lips, was a flash of apology in his orbs.

Hendery slept soundly. A tear escaping his eye.

“Why are you crying?” You crouched in front of a boy named Kristan. Snot and tear has already mixed up in his face to create dirty splotches. You held his hands softly to put beside his body.

Kristan sniffed. But did not answer.

“Kristan, tell me what happened,” you gently asked. His head bowed down deeper, as if he was embarrassed and scared to tell you anything. Kristan, he was one of your favorites despite his silent comportment and shy eyes.

Ever since Father Ben decided to teach the children from the village basic education at the church, you have been curious about Kristan. There was something about the boy. Sadness. Melancholy. Loneliness.

“I am here—” You were interrupted by Hendery, who also crouched beside Kristan. “What are you doing?” you deadpan.

Hendery ignored you, as he focused on Kristan. He puts his hand on his shoulder and pulls down his mask. “Tell me who among these kids beat you up,” he whispered, “Was it him?” Then he pointed towards the other boy who was curiously watching the three of you.

The slightest shock adorned Kristan’s face. He looked at you warily, obviously perturbed by Hendery’s presence.

You smiled at him to tell him it’s alright. And that he doesn’t need to be cautious around Hendery. Although you didn’t know about that yourself. Hendery was still a mystery.

“They… didn’t hurt me,” Kristan said through his snuffles. “Thank… you, Miss Y/N,” he added, then he looked at Hendery, “And to you… Mister…?”

“Hendery. Call me Hendery.”

“Mister Hendery,” Kristan said, practicing the new syllables of Hendery’s name. Kristan bowed before walking towards the line of boys again.

Concerned about the well-being of the boy, you sighed. When you turned to go back to packing the foods, Hendery walked up towards Kristan again.

“What is this?” he asked while slightly pulling up the little boy’s sleeves. There was a purple mark right on his arm. Something that definitely resembled a contusion.

When Kristan realized what was happening, he flinched away from Hendery.

You hurried beside him once more, brows furrowed. “Kristan, what is that?”

His eyes were fervent, lips quivering while wriggling free of your hold from his arm. Because of the fear that you might hurt him, you let Kristan go. He ran away.

Father Ben rushed towards you, robes billowing like waves against the pavement. “What is happening?” he asked.

You shared a look with Hendery before answering, “Hendery and I saw something in his arm— something like a bruise,” you explained. “Father, I think there’s something going on with Kristan, and I am deeply concerned about his well-being.”

The priest listened and nodded his head. “Follow me, the both of you,” he commanded before pivoted on his heel.

Without offering Hendery a glance, you followed Father Ben inside the church and to his chamber. When all three of you were secured inside, Father Ben locked the door.

You couldn’t help but observe Hendery as he roamed his eyes around the room. As if he was searching for something. Something valuable. But when he looked at you, he smiled and all your doubts vanished in a blink. How could happiness and sadness co-exist at the same time in someone else’s body?

The sound of papers shuffling woke you from your reverie. Father Ben raised up a paper, and studied it with his reading glasses.

“Here is Kristan’s birth certificate,” he announced. “His mother died giving birth to him. Kristan is being taken care of his father, his alcoholic father, at their house in the southeast part of the village.”

You listened carefully to each word. You already know that Kristan’s only living parent was his father. But never once did Father Ben shared the reality of him being alcoholic. Goosebumps crawled onto your back as realization slowly weaved its way through your mind.

“His father’s hurting him,” Hendery pronounced beside you.

Father Ben hummed. “That, we do not yet know. So it’d be really helpful if the both of you would venture to their house and check for your own eyes. I would’ve gone myself but I won’t be able to fight his father if it ever comes to that,” Father Ben continued, “He’s quite well-known as an aggressive man.”

“And… I suppose Hendery could fight him off?” You raised a brow. Hendery’s built wasn’t like that of a body-builder. He definitely belonged to the species of boys with sad eyes and skinny bodies. Dangerous. Utterly dangerous.

He chuckled— a quite rumbling sound that could stir butterflies inside a woman’s stomach. “I’m quite a fighter, Y/N,” he said.

You sighed. “Let’s just hope that it won’t come to aggression.” Then you focused your attention back to the priest. “What of me? What can I contribute, Father?”

Father Ben placed the paper back to his drawers. “You have your wits in you, hija. Convince his father to give us Kristan for a while until he gets his life on the right path.”

After Father Ben’s instruction, the both of you made your way down the stairs. You still couldn’t understand why Father Ben asked Hendery to come. He was from town after all. Townspeople weren’t so used to life in the countryside. In their towering factories and buildings, they still pretend that they have the glory of the past.

“Are you really from the city?” you asked, turning your body to face him. He descended the last step while you stood on the second.

His steps halted at the question, then he tilted his head quite a bit too see you. “What of it?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Having someone journey here from the city’s pretty unusual.” You descended the stairs and walked ahead of him.

“Having villagers in the city’s never been heard before,” he snorted.

Your brows furrowed. Was that an insult? Or was he simply baiting you? Whatever that meant, you halted. “What are you implying? That we don’t have the means to go to the city?” When Hendery shrugged, you puffed out your chest and held your chin up high. “Well, must I say to you that it’s pretty decent living in here than pretend to have riches in the city.”

He only chuckled, driving you irate even more. “We don’t pretend, Y/N.”

You have decided not to answer for your own well-being. He was truly a city boy. Arrogant. Condescending. Too full of himself. And you mustn’t bother yourself with him. Hendery was on the other side of your own spectrum. There was no point understanding a boy you have just met.

“Oh, wait.” You halted when you finally reached the exit door of the church. “I’ll ask Lucy if you could borrow her bicycle.” When you turned to leave, Hendery caught your wrist. Everything about you stopped functioning by the touch. It wasn’t as if you weren’t used to boys holding you— but yes, you could say that.

“We can ride my motorbike,” he suggested, “Much more convenient, don’t you think?”

Oh, no. No, no, no. If the year 2020 had learned its way towards openness and liberty, well, 2040 failed to adapt to that. “No,” you simply answered.

“No? What do you mean no? You’ll only ride behind me, then we’ll take off.”

You groaned. “City boys.” If anyone would see you riding a big motorbike, they would curse you as if you were the demon. You despised the notion yourself. And it was really tempting to try new things once in a while. Perhaps you were only being stupid— or naive. There was no harm riding a big black and shiny motorbike, right? You heaved out a deep sigh. “Alright, let’s go.”

Hendery’s confused visage turned to that of a bright one when he, once again, flashed you his pearlescent teeth. He jogged the distance towards his motorbike. Without any word, he hopped and snapped the pedal with his right foot.

“Hop in,” he said.

You raised a brow. “Helmet?”

“Church girls,” he groaned. You opened your mouth to speak, but Hendery once again cut you off, “Where is the fun in riding a motorbike if you’d wear a helmet?”

“Hendery, it’s a safety protocol if you aren’t—”

Once again, he groaned, “Where’s the fun in ‘safe’? Hop in.” He tilted his head to the side, encouraging you to finally hop in his motorbike.

“I think I’m gonna ride—”

“Y/N,” he firmly called, “Sometimes, you also have to taste the danger.” Then he reached for your hand. You would have flinched away, but the warmness of his palm hindered you from doing so. “Don’t you trust me?”

Trust? Mother says don’t talk to strangers. It has been a mantra of every little girl as they grow up. But you aren’t a little girl no more.

Other than his melancholic eyes, his name is all you know about him. And how could you trust the swirl of danger in his irises? However, humans are vexatious. They don’t always follow the rules.

When you are fed with deprivation of something extraordinary, you grow hankering after it.

You took Hendery’s hand. With your heart thudding inside your chest, you grasped your skirt and pulled your body upwards to sit on his motorbike. Hendery revved the engine, twisting his hand around the accelator.

“Please, slow down—!” Your chests collided against his back by the impact. Hendery chuckled, but he did not heed your cries. He rode through the road ahead, shoulders still rumbling of his laughters.

Skirt ballooning out, you prayed to God that you won’t meet your doom today. This has been a bad idea. A very bad one at that. What would people say if they witness a sacristan— a sacristan woman— riding this black motorcycle? With her skirts billowing out in the open? Oh, no. Your mother would whip you to shreds.

“Where are we going?” Hendery shouted.

You clutched on his front shirt tightly, afraid that the wind would surely swoosh you away if you do so much as to slacken your hold. “Where are we now?” you shouted back. Because you refused to sit up straight, you shielded yourself with Hendery’s body. And now your position shielded you away from seeing anything other than the road beneath the wheels.

“Y/N, please sit up straight.” He laughed. Oh, this boy relishes to your suffering. He really was. “We are currently entering a village…?”

You willed yourself to sit. Surely, it won’t kill you. You have seen actresses ride behind their own James Deans in big motorcycles such as this one.

“Alright, alright, I’ll slow down.” But Hendery’s words were muffled by the air. However, you felt the wheels roll slowly as it enters your village. Your village. Oh, no.

“No, please don’t! Faster, Hendery!” When he refused to rev the accelerator, you pinched his sides.

“Aw! Alright, alright!” Without another word, Hendery drove through the houses.

You obscured our face as much as you could. You couldn’t afford having someone recognize you. It won’t happen.

“Y/N, where are we going?” he asked for the second time. “We’re away from the houses. No one can see you here but the grasses,” he taunted.

You opened your eyes and saw the ground below, as well as the grasses. It only means you were well away from your village. You exhaled and sat up. “Turn left.”

“Left? Is there life at the end of this road?”

You deadpanned, “City boys.”

“No, seriously?”

“Yes, there is Hendery. It’s the most isolated part of the village— please look at the road,” you reminded him when he attempted to face you sideways.

“Kristan’s from here?”

“Apparently.”

He nodded his head. “He walks this distance every day?”

“Yes.”

It was somehow weird to talk about life in the countryside with a city boy. If Hendery was, indeed, from the city. You have no idea about the city ever since the pandemic. This has always been your home; the trees, the grasses, the kind neighbors, and a pious village. The liveliness of the wen— if claims were to be trusted— has been no more than a thing left in the back of your mind. It was almost a name you have no idea how to pronounce.

“You, too?” Hendery asked. A question you didn’t expect to hear.

“Uh-huh.” Then a chuckled. “We’re left with no choice since we have no resources when it comes to vehicles.”

“How do you go to the city, then?”

“We don’t go to the city. Unless it is needed.”

Hendery hummed. “And how do you go?”

“We ask the chieftain to lend us the ambulance.”

“The ambulance?” he asked.

The road becomes bumpy because of rocks, so you hold on him tightly once again. Hendery chuckled at your action, but did not bait you.

“Yes,” you answered. “Oh, we’re here,” you announced as Kristan’s village looms ahead. It was shielded away from your eyes because of the trees circling the whole vicinity.

“Do they sleep with snakes here?” There wasn’t any jeer to his voice, only curiosity.

You snorted. “Why don’t you stay for the night to try?” You gathered your skirt then planted your heel to the ground. With a swing of your leg, you hopped off his motorbike.

“I’d like to.” Hendery fished out a packet of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. He pressed one between his fingers and lit the tip with a lighter.

“Is that necessary?” you asked.

People in this part of town weren’t welcoming. That was why it didn’t come off as a shock to know that Kristan’s father was alcoholic. It simply was the way of living here: alcohol, cigarettes, cards. That being said, having an outsider such as Hendery venture here could provoke the most hard-headed fathers and boys alike.

Hendery sipped then  blew smoke out in the air. “What are you scared of?”

For a minute, you caught a spark in his irises. It was as if he didn’t ask about your fears— but your insecurities. And of the things you wanted to try but couldn’t. Or perhaps it was only you, digging deeper into the simple question.

“God,” you simply answered.

“There is no god,” he retorted.

That caught you off-balance. An aspiring sacristan wouldn’t say that. “Father says you want to be a sacristan. How could you? When you don’t have any faith?”

Hendery stopped for a second before blinking. “There is no god but God the Father Almighty in heaven.” Then he flashed you a smile. You furrowed your brows. “Shall we?” he asked, throwing out his cigarette to the ground.

You shrugged.

Different sets of eyes pierced your bodies as you and Hendery trodded the dusty road. Mothers with their youngest born straddling their waists peered through wooden gates. Fathers with their cigarettes and beer bottles scrutinized you from head to toe. You were covered from your neck down your heel, but they look at you as if you were naked.

Hendery beside you exudes indifference. Shoulders straight and chin up high, Hendery stared every man down. You didn’t know if that’s a good idea or not. The last thing you need was a brawl between him and the juveniles surrounding you.

Finally, you have reached Kristan’s home. It ws made of cement and sawali, just like most of the houses you have just passed by.

You smoothed out your skirt before knocking. One, two, three knocks before his Father greeted you with a grunt.

“What d’ya want?” he asked  in a rumpled voice.

Hendery stepped beside you. “We’re here to talk.”

Kristan’s father wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t have anytime for you—”

“It’s about Kristan,” Hendery stated, jaw clenching.

To be honest, you didn’t expect him to make the talking. You could do it yourself. But you were still thankful that he was with you right now.

Kristan’s father rests his body against the doorframe. “What about my son?” Yes, he did ask about his son. However, there wasn’t any trace of concern in his voice.

You cleared your throat. “Father Ben wants to take care of Kristan for a while, until we’re sure that he’s safe living here.”

You heard the crashing of his beer bottle first, before you felt the tightening of your throat by the way he grabbed your collar.

“No one tells me what to do—”

Your first instinct had been to lash out on him, but your anger got the best of you. Before you could act out on your own, Hendery wrapped his hand around the man’s wrist. With force, he pushes him away and twisted the bone.

You stared in horror as Kristan’s father screamed in pain while holding his broken wrist. “Hendery!” you shouted as he sauntered towards the man. Hendery grabbed his head and slammed his knees against his nose, once again cracking the bones.

Thunderstruck beyond comprehension, you flew towards Hendery. “Hendery! Stop!”

Kristan’s father was on the ground, clutching his bleeding nose. Hendery towered over him with clenched fist, ready to pounce at any given time. Before he could swing yet another blow, you already lay hold of his arm.

“What are you doing?!” you asked, out of breath.

“Beating the shit out of him,” he said in nonchalance.

“That— isn’t what Father Ben asked as to do,” you reminded him, despite the fact that Father Ben indeed expected a brawl.

Hendery’s muscles relaxed nonetheless. He pointed a finger towards Kristan’s father who’s still on the ground, glaring at the both of you.

You grapple for words— anything. “Did you hurt your son?” you ask.

“What of it? You don’t have a child so you won’t understand how it is to discipline one,” he answered.

Hendery crouched. You grabbed hold of his back collar. “You fucking hurt your son again,” he spits, “I will kill you.”

“Father, I’m home— Miss Y/N?”

The three of you turned your attention towards the little boy who entered the house. Kristan. He was holding a plastic of what you could tell was a bag of vegetables.

Kristan’s eyes turns to Hendery, and to his bloodied father. “Mister Hendery? What are you doing here?”

“You’ll come with us for a while,” Hendery said.

“What is happening?”

You crouched in front of the boy and lay hold of his shoulders. “Father Ben asked us to take you back to the church. Where you’ll stay for a while until your Father learns how to be a good one.”

“Really?” Kristan asked in relief.

Has this house been his hell that it’s a relief to be away from his father? You frowned at the thought.

“But… Father— he’s going to be alone.”

“Ask your Father. We still need his approval after all,” you explained.

Kristan walked towards his father, who was standing and padding his pants. Hendery crossed his arms over his chest, watching the man warily.

“Father, is it okay if I’ll leave for a while? Will you be fine?” the little boy asked.

“Go! Do what you want! Don’t come back!” he shouted.

However, Kristan didn’t flinch. It was as if he had been to used to this kind of treatment. “Alright, I’ll come back. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you.” Then he hugged his Father’s hips.

You looked away, unable to watch the scene unfolding before your eyes. It would seem as if Hendery couldn’t take it in himself, for your eyes crossed as he looks away, too.

“Take care and be good. I love you, Father.” Kristan turned his back against his Father. He smileed at you and took your hand. You held his hand tightly and spared his Father one last look.

He turned his back the same time his tear slid down his face. You swallowed the lump in your throat before bowing slightly as a goodbye.

iv. He suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried…

Pandemic and poverty, it truly was a wonder how Hendery survived such dreadful times. Perhaps there was really a god, lurking somewhere, ready to grant the wishes of the people during those awful times.

Yet as far as Hendery was concerned, nobody prayed for him when the pandemic striked him. Right, this lanky seven-year-old’s suffering didn’t end after he found out about his mother’s adultery.

At first, Hendery brushed off the heaviness of his eyelids together with his parched throat as a common sickness. He never told his mother or father about it, for the fear that it might fruit into something their financial stability won’t be able to answer for.

But then hours had gone by, with Hendery’s air passage slowly closing in on him. As if a boulder was placed right in on his lungs, demanding his life by choking him. Cough dry and head aching, Hendery twisted and turned on his bed, unable to think clearly. He felt as if he was dying— dying in the most horrible way possible.

Thereafter, he believed that he had gone in and out of consciousness, or perhaps it was only his vision going blurry from the ache his body was trying to fight off.

Hendery failed to recognize his father as he leaned to check his son. And he failed to recognize the feeling of being scooped up from the bed, with his father shouting for help as if his life depended on it.

Blotches of darkness swam in his line of sight. The cries of his mother as well as the panicked shouts of his father were muffled by his coughing.

Would this be the end? Was this the life the gods had planned out for him? To die young? To die without a fight? How do you accept this fate?

For once, he wanted to see the end of this pandemic. He wanted to witness the rainbow after this storm. For once, he yearned to see something beautiful. Just once.

Hendery fully succumbed to oblivion.

When he woke up, it was the white light that filled his vision. Was it heaven? Hendery tried to make sense of his surroundings, but no noise could be heard other than the beeping of machines around him.

His eyelids fluttered open completely. The ceiling to where his hospital bed was located flashed above him like a canvas of nothing but white. There was a tightness in his nose, and he realized that he was breathing through an apparatus.

Hendery tried to move his fingers. They were mobile, albeit frail. It’s the same with his feet. Perhaps it was the incessant ravaging of the cough against his lungs that made him sick to the bones. He would’ve thanked whoever there was to be thankful for, if not for the uncertainty that was still stretching out in front of him. The pandemic wasn’t a one-night killer. It would render you infirm for weeks— it’s only up to the doctors and your own antibodies if they won’t collapse and give up on you.

And Hendery’s feeble state, as well as his age, failed to give him much hope.

He would die, right there— alone. God has shunned him away. He refused to cry, since no amount of tears could appease the loneliness inside him.

Hendery closed his eyes again.

The second time he woke, the doctors were smiling in front of him. The nurses guided him out of his bed. They even helped him get dressed in new clothes. Baffled was an understatement for what he felt that day. Was he out of danger? Could he truly live now? With his mother and father once again?

For the first time since his life went downhill, Hendery smiled. There wasn’t a reason not to. If he could, he would jump from happiness. He did it. He survived.

Hendery excitedly roamed his eyes around him from the wheelchair, hoping to finally meet his parents after weeks of being separated from them. Yet no familiar faces greeted him when he reached the exit of the hospital.

A clawing feeling rested in his stomach, but he couldn’t afford to cave in his fear. Hendery remained smiling until a middle-aged woman stood before him.

“Are you Hendery?” she asked.

“Yes. I am,” Hendery answered without looking at the woman. He was busy searching for his parents.

“Thank you so much for taking care of my niece. I’ll  forever be grateful for your service. I’ll take him from here,” the woman announced.

“Wait—” Hendery turned around to see the woman taking the wheelchair from the nurses. “Where’s my Mom? My Dad?”

“Hendery, I’ll explain once we reach the house,” his apparent aunt said.

Hendery pursed his lips together. “Is Mom and Dad—”

“Be quiet,” the woman said softly.

Hendery had been quiet thereafter.

Hendery looked up to see the stars in the skies. How pretty they truly were. He won’t blame those who wishes upon these twinkling white lights. But he would feel utterly stupid himself to whisper his dreams to these scintillating lights that would die later on.

Supernova, scientists call it. It is the dying of a star. It is its return to atoms, particles, or whatever shit there is in the universe even before matter and time took its place.

Hendery let the liquor grate his throat as he took yet another swig from his bottle. Liquor and unwanted memories? Sign him up. Deep conversations with himself? He might be heartless in the eyes of many, but Hendery knew how to contemplate things. Too bad that he didn’t have anyone to share his thoughts with.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Oh, perhaps there was.

Aghast by the fact that there were empty bottles littered all around him, you gazed at Hendery.

It had been a week since he arrived at the church, telling everyone that he wanted to be a sacristan. So far, so good. He was a fast-learner albeit not showing any interests when it came to talking about the Bible. You still had your doubts in the pockets of your skirts. And seeing him drinking himself right behind the structures of the Church only intensified your wariness.

But the boy faced you with a smile. “Drinking,” he answered with a shrug.

“I know you are drinking,” you seethed. “But why are you drinking?”

It was past six p.m. already. You had completed your duties to the Church, and had also tucked in Kristan to the sacristan’s quarters just below Father Ben’s own chamber.

“To let off some steam.”

You stomped towards him with your chest puffing out of irritation. “First, you smoke on your first day. Then you drink on your first week. What on earth is wrong with you, Hendery?”

“Why don’t you sit with me for a while?”

You flew your arms to the air. “You are unbelievable.”

Hendery leaned back. “Aren’t you curious about me?”

“I am—” You closed your mouth. The words slipped out before you knew it.

His smile only widened . “Father Ben’s secured in his chamber. There is no need to fret.” He motioned his head down the space beside him. “Sit.”

They said drunk men speak the most truth. If you could squeeze anything out of him by joining him tonight, you would. With a heavy heart, you sat beside Hendery. The acrid smell of the alcohol whiffed your nose like a whiplash instantly.

“Now,” he began. “Ask me anything you want.”

“Where are y—”

Hendery pressed a finger to your lips. “In one condition: drink.”

You swatted his hand away with a frown. “I’m going.” But before you could stand up, Hendery held your wrist.

“I’m kidding,” the boy said  with a chuckle.

There. That smile. That chuckle.

“Seriously.” You sat comfortably again. “Where are you from?”

“The city,” he answered. “I was born in the city. It’s all I’ve ever known ever since.”

“The pandemic hit the city hardest,” you commented. It was true, though. Because of their lifestyle and opulence, the pandemic moved way faster in the city compared to the villages.

“Yes, it did,” he whispered before downing the last gulp from his bottle. Hendery burped softly before tossing the empty bottle to the grass.

“One, two, three, four—” You scrunched your nose. “Five bottles. Now tell me, where did you get these?” you asked, pertaining to the liquor.

Hendery looked at you as if you beguile him to the fullest. “Convenience store. You have it here.”

You shot up a brow. “And you decided it best to consume them here? In the Church?”

“If it wasn’t obvious, yes.”

“I don’t have anything against you, smoking and drinking, but we shall set a good example to the children.”

Hendery quirked a brow. “Do you think smoking and drinking are bad examples?”

“Personally? No.” It was true. You didn’t think they were bad examples. It was always the person. But the church-goers were mostly children. They still don’t have the capacity to balance the right and the wrong for their age. Eventually, they would know. However, it was your duty to protect their innocent minds as best you could. “But there are children here. We must guide them.”

“They’ll learn to smoke later on.” He shrugged.

You hummed. “That, we aren’t sure of. Until then, let’s guide them first.”

“You’re truly devoted to being a sacristan, aren’t you?” Hendery asked, his head looking up to the skies.

You watched him in silence. His side profile was undeniably beautiful. You have never seen such soft features, to be honest. “Yes, I am.”

“Is that your dream?”

You tilted your head up to see the skies yourself. The stars were sprinkled like white sands against the darkness of the heavens. You smiled. “I have a lot of dreams, though. Like the stars above, they are somewhat implausible.”

It was his turn to look at you. If he was to be honest, Hendery found your face marvelous. He had never seen your likeness in the city. “Why do you say that?”

Perhaps someone would find it funny that you were opening yourself up to this boy. A boy you just met one week ago. However, there was a space in your heart that tells you it’s alright to tell Hendery all your dreams and worries, your aspirations and your doubts. Strangers couldn’t judge you.

You sigh. “I am… stuck here. I’ve never been anywhere else but here.”

“Not even in the city?”

You shake your head.

Hendery hums. “Well, it’s not really different. If not, it’s worse.” He chuckles. “Everyone lives as if it’s the end of the world tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that wonderful?” You hugged your knees closer to your chests. “I’ve always wanted to experience a night like that.”

Hendery snorted. “It gets tiring. And it’s not really convenient when you don’t have the money.”

“For what? Can’t you enjoy without it?”

He strayed his eyes towards you. There was a spark of amusement dancing in his orbs. As if he found your question fascinating. “You can’t. What about drugs? Alcohol? Cigarettes? You can’t buy those without money.”

Oh. Of course. Hendery’s talking about parties. He looked like that kind of boy at first glance. Yet upon hearing his snorts and the dissent on his face, you have realized that perhaps both of you were yearning for something you weren’t been born to reach. You, the city. Him, the peace of the countryside.

“I wasn’t talking about those,” you said. Hendery fixed you with a curious look. “I’m talking about the city lights above the rooftops. The blare of the cars. The life outside this town.”

Hendery threw his head back, contorting the tattoo on the side of his neck, and laughed softly. “Of course.” His laughters ceased, like smoke slowly dissipating into the air. “But there is more to that.”

You stood up and smoothed out your skirt. “Perhaps.”

“Don’t you want more?”

With that, you looked down at him to flash him a small smile. “I’ve always wanted more. Perhaps there is more to the world than this little town. Perhaps I deserve to see it one day.”

Hendery didn’t break eye contact when he said the words, “There are millions of possibilities if you’d only dare.”

In which you didn’t have any answer for.

v. He descended to the dead. On the third day, He rose again…

Hendery waited. For hours, days, months, but he’d never seen his parents again.

The roof above him and the floors underneath his feet were a place he had never seen before. Wherever he looked, the unfamiliarity of everything would hit him like a tidal wave. From the couches to the television, to the doorframe and the windowsills, no one could deny that this house had seen better days.

Hendery sleeps in a cot of hard wood that leaves his back aching every morning. He eats in a kitchen with mice crawling in the corners and cockroaches flying in different directions. Nevertheless, there was food and somehow it was all that matters.

What happened to his Mom and Dad? Hendery was left with puzzles of an answer himself. After he survived the pandemic, he was met with yet another obstacle: orphanhood.

His aunt, Lilia, said that his father died. He died because of the pandemic, too. Hendery wept for days on end, refusing to believe what had befell his loving father. But as Lilia showed him the death certificate, Hendery’s world collapsed to shreds. That had been the time when he felt utterly alone, with no one to guide him and no one to tuck him in his sleep but the coldness of the world and the loneliness of the night.

His mother— no one knows what happened to her. They say she was in an asylum. They say what had betided her husband and son shattered her mind. Hendery tried to gather information. He tried to ask his aunt about his mother’s whereabouts. But whenever he does, he’s met with a slap on the cheek.

Aunt Lilia was a kind woman— she really was. But there had been times when she would talk to no one in the windows, or would cry with unknown reasons on the kitchen floors. Sometimes, she would sing lullabies to help Hendery sleep. Sometimes, she would whip him until he was crying and begging for help.

No one saved him.

One day, when Aunt Lilia was fast asleep and snoring on her couch, Hendery tiptoed to the door. It’s time for him to leave this godforsaken place. It’s time that he finds his mother. He was twelve years old.

According to the doctors themselves, you become immune to the pandemic once it has already hit you. Hendery braved the pandemic with a single mask and a little bottle of alcohol. And for months, he would live in the streets.

You sang your favorite song while walking. It was eight p.m., the road was almost empty, save for a few workers going home to your village. Fortunately, it didn’t rain tonight so there were no need for umbrellas and tiptoeing through the mud.

Hendery remained in the Church, to do what, you hadn’t bothered to ask. He offered to take you home, but you politely declined. After a series of convincing Hendery that you were going to be fine on your own, his shoulders finally slumped in approval. Your mother would collapse on the ground if she ever sees you riding Hendery’s motorbike.

You didn’t take him for a gentleman. However, there were still a lot of things you didn’t know about the boy. After your conversation with him on the grasses, perhaps he’s allowed you to slip through his visions, even just for a little bit.

As you neared towards your house, elders and children alike scattering around your street drew you in a halt. What is happening? A bad feeling rested in your stomach, but you sent a silent prayer that it wasn’t what you were thinking about.

Your mother was also one of the villagers out, so you sauntered straight towards her with your forehead drawn in a crease. “What’s happening, Mom?”

Her lips were pulled in a tight frown. “Bandits!” she seethed, as if the word had been the cruelest of all curses. “They took Loira’s money that she hid under the dresser.”

“How? Are bandits that skilled?”

As far as you could tell, Aunt Loira’s home was barred from ceiling to floor. She doesn’t go out of the house without locking all the possible holes that bandits might slip through.

“Evil knows no bounds,” your mother once again spat. “Yes, they are that skilled and heartless nowadays.”

The village chieftain as well as the other tanods circle Aunt Loira’s home with their lamps and flashlights. But you’d doubted that they would acquire evidence. Bandits had been pillaging your village as well as the neighboring ones for years. No one could ell what they look like. However, some elders think that the men from Kristan’s village were the ones responsible for the robbery.

“But Aunt Loira literally bars her whole house whenever she leaves for the market, right?”

Your mother made a strange noise through her nose. “She forgot to lock her back door when she left earlier.” Then she wrapped a hand around your wrist. “Come, the food’s getting colder.”

With one last look at Aunt Loira’s house, you let your mother lead you away from the mayhem.

You have been a victim of the bandits yourselves. Once, when you were ten years old. And it had been of your own fault. Father and Mother went to the market that day, and being the only daughter that you were, you had no one to play with whenever they were away. So you hopped out of bed, with your morning glory still stuck in your eyes and hair like the nest of birds, you hadn’t bothered to lock your house and flew straight to your childhood friends.

When you came back home, Mother was frowning at you. She would’ve had you whipped if not for your father, who kindly stood between you and your mother’s diabolical punishments. The money from the old refrigerator was stolen. It was the money for the renovation of your own room. Because of its looting, you still stare at the blotches of rainwater on your canopy every night until now, praying that it won’t collapse on you.

As you lay on your bed, silent contemplations ravaged your mind: the conversation with Hendery, the bandits, your unattainable dreams— are they though?

You have always dreamed of traveling the world. See the wonders of it for yourself. But how could you do that if you have been stuck here ever since? You have no idea what the city looks like. Mother said you were born in the city, but before the lockdown had taken place over the whole country, Mother went back to this village. Apparently, the isolated places were safer during the pandemic.

The pandemic has been over for five years now. Surely, there was more to life than this quiet town, right? You love this village with all your heart. However, you feel as if there were a lot more waiting for you out there. As Hendery said, there were millions of possibilities if you’d only dare.

Dare. What an audacious word. It made you feel dauntless just saying it.

You sat up and stared at the view outside your windows. What could truly happen if you dares the world? What could happen if you step your foot out of this town and dare?

vi. He ascended into Heaven, sits at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty…

“He’s not from here,” the other boys whispered.

Hendery continued ransacking the trash cans under the bridge. It had been exactly two weeks since he escaped Aunt Lilia’s hell house. And he wasn’t fairing well. The coins he stole from Aunt Lilia’s dresser were beginning to sound nothing in his pockets despite the fact that water was all his body consumed ever since escaping.

They say you could survive without food, but you wouldn’t survive without water. So he drank and drank until his stomach became bloated. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner, Hendery would buy at least one bottle of water with the stolen money and would consume it for two days. Sounds impossible for other people, but Hendery made it to two weeks of not fainting on the ground by that.

“He looks like he’s from here, though,” the other boy commented.

Hendery paid them no heed, for he found a bag of chips in the trash. It tasted like ashes in his mouth, but he couldn’t complain. He’d never complain.

Hendery fished for yet another chip when the boys snatched the bag away from him. They sneered. At long last, Hendery looked at them. And they were exactly like a mirror of him. Greasy hair, acrid smell, tattered clothes— and that something in their eyes: despair.

“Where are you from, boy?” One of them asked.

Boy? He didn’t look older than Hendery. However similar their situations might be, he had no time to linger around them. He needed to find his mother. So he turned his back and walked away. Not even a few steps ahead, someone grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The boy smirked before landing a blow at his nose.

Hendery staggered backwards, aghast and angry at the same time. He touched his nose, and found it bleeding. Fueled by hunger and lost and a shit ton of problems, Hendery let his backpack fall to the ground and charged towards the boy.

They rolled off the ground. Hendery had him by the collar, and all the boy did was to choke. If no one would intrude, Hendery could surely kill him. But when they rolled once more and Hendery got on the boy’s stomach, he raised a fist only for someone to wrap a viselike grip around his wrist.

Hendery shot him a glare, but he answered him with a kind smile. That was when he noticed there were at least five of them there. Six, if Hendery was to count himself.

“There is no need for us to kill each other,” the boy said. “Stand up.”

Hesitant, Hendery wriggled free before standing on his feet. Once again, he turned on his heel to walk away.

“Why are you leaving?” the boy asked. “We have food here. And a shelter for the night.”

That sounded like a dream. Hendery had never heard of that for two weeks. Not even experienced any of that. Still, he didn’t turn.

“I promise we won’t harm you.”

He continued to walk away. If Hendery had come to a realization, it was that he could survive on his own. He’d experienced a lot of shit already being with people.

“We can help you!” the boy shouted.

With that, Hendery gripped the straps of his backpack tightly. He didn’t know if it was out of luck, or the boy really hit something that made his consciousness stir. If Hendery wanted to find his mother, it’d be better to have companions he could rely on.

He turned to face the boys again. “Really?” he shouted back.

They looked at one another before trodding the distance towards Hendery. The taller man stretched out his hand, with a smile he said, “I’m Kun.”

Hendery stared at the hand before taking it. “Hendery.”

“We can help you,” Kun said. “In one condition.”

You stared at your reflection on the mirror. The glass had a lot of brown blotches because of its age. But your reflection could still be seen.

Another day, another walk, another face to greet.

It’s Sunday already. The third Sunday of the month. You once believed that if people would pray day and night in the churches and in their houses, the bad things crawling in the world would somehow lessen. You were mistaken.

Bandits, bandits, bandits. They were everywhere these days. Mother even refused to go to the market in fear of being robbed. That left you with no choice but to go on your own. How? You exactly have no idea.

It was always best to visit the market at dawn, for the vegetables and meats were still fresh. You could still buy something after noon, but it won’t be as worth the money as they were in the gloaming. And the bandits had left yet another fiendish mess at Uncle Gino’s house. Your mother had been a cursing mess for hours since they stole a precious heirloom from Uncle’s treasure chest.

You sighed. Why is your village always prone to bandits? It wasn’t as if your chieftain never does anything for it, if not, he’s hands-on searching for the robbers. With no luck at all. Bandits disappeara like a bubble everytime they come close to capturing them.

At the church, everyone else was busy when you arrived. Save for one person; Hendery. He was leaning on the door frame of the sacristan’s quarter, watching everyone pass by him.

“Why aren’t you doing anything?” you asked when you reached him.

“Ah, my dearest Y/N,” he sighed. “How I’ve missed you dearly.”

You deadpanned. “We met yesterday, Hendery.”

“Then? Am I not allowed to miss you?” He raised a brow.

You compressed your lips in a tight line. Three weeks since the boy arrived and in some way you have found a common ground together: talking about your dreams. Well, it’s you who’s always doing the talking. While he listened and snorted whenever he disagrees with you. It had been somewhat challenging, having someone disagree with you.

“Let’s go,” you sighed. “The mass is about to start.”

Thankfully, he was already donned in his white robes. No matter how holy the color might be, it failed to make him one. If not, it had only intensified the danger lurking within him.

Hendery yawned all throughout the mass, resulting in you nudging his ribs with your elbow. You couldn’t still comprehend his goal for joining the church. He seemed disinterested about everything. You have to find out his true intentions or else you will lose your mind thinking.

And it was not right to think about anything but the Lord while the mass is going on.

“Our Father, Who art in Heaven…” The churchgoers starts to sing. They clasped their hands as if in prayer while singing. Father Ben already practiced the right way in singing the litany. No one holds hand any longer.

You clasped your own hand. “Holy be Thy Name— what are you doing?” In bafflement and shock, you hissed louder than what you intended to.

Hendery took your right hand to clasped with his left. He didn’t answer you, though. He kept on looking straight at the altar. “Thy Kingdom Come, Thy will be done…” he started to sing along.

Flustered on where you stand, you roamed your eyes around you. Lucy and Rei were busy singing their hymns, oblivious to the way Hendery was breaking Father Ben’s rule.

You tried to wriggle free, but his grip was viselike. It’s disrupting the mass for you. With a heavy intake of breath, you let it go. “On Earth as it is in Heaven…” you sang along.

When he heard you, Hendery slackened his hold. You looked at him the same time he looked at you. And there he was, smiling like an idiot. “Give us this day, our daily bread…” he sang as he focused on the altar again.

You blinked, heart doing somersaults inside your chest. “And forgive us our trespasses…” you sang.

Everything had come at once. The echoes of the singing churchgoers, as well as Hendery’s.

“As we forgive those who trespass against us…”

The beating of your heart was wild. For what reasons? You have no idea. It was just there, beating stubbornly inside your ribcage.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…”

After the mass, and when all the churchgoers finished asking for Father Ben’s blessings and advice, he gathered all the sacristan inside the church.

You sat between Rei and Lucy, while Hendery sat behind you. He still has that infuriating smile on his face. Truth be told, and no matter how hard you tried, you also smiled a little yourself.

“I’ve heard the concerns of the people,” Father Ben announced. “For years, we have faced the bandits.”

You straightened up. In his own ways, Father Ben had been a huge help for the people. You won’t call him rich, but he’s always ready to lend money to those who fell to the bandits’ wrongdoings. You have seen his treasure chest once, and you believe you had been the only one allowed to see it.

“As much as I would like to financially aid everyone, my coffers couldn’t hold everything,” he added.

Lucy intruded, “It is alright Father. You’ve been helping us since you came here in the village. And for that we are thankful. But you need not bother yourself for our problems.”

Father Ben smiled. “I am the priest of this town. I need to preserve peace just like the chieftain. It’s been a pleasure to help with my own ways.”

You cleared your throat. “How can we help, Father?”

“Ah, yes.” Father Ben placed his hands behind him. “I need you to be vigilant. Not only for your own sakes, but for the well-being of others, too. Help in your own little ways. Be it helping the townspeople pick the strongest barriers there is in the market, they’d appreciate that. I trust you all. And don’t forget to pray for your village and the neighboring ones, too.” Father Ben makes a cross in the air. “May God bless us all.”

“Amen,” you said in unison.

Father Ben returned behind the altar to check up on Kristan, more likely. As for the little boy, he was comfortable, he said. His father also tried to visit him, but found it hard to face his son. Kristan said  it’s fine, and that his father deserved time to think.

You stood up together with the other sacristan with a sigh. Bandits are such headaches. It gets tiring having to deal with them. It feels as if dealing with the wind. Invisible. And there was yet another headache you have to face: going to the market.

If you were lucky, you could reach the market at one p.m.. But vehicles during this time of the day were rare. Not to mention the village was isolated.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Hendery asked as he stood in front of you.

You sighed a pensive one. He’s your third headache of the day. “Please, Hendery. I’m thinking.” You started to walk away, but he followed beside you.

“Perhaps I can help.”

You drew in a halt. Mayhaps it was a blessing in disguise— him. Hendery has a motorbike. You’d get there and come back on time if you would ride with him. But courage was a luxury you couldn’t afford, so you shun the thoughts.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Your tongue ached to say the words. And your body yearned to feel the wind on your face, too. It was not everyday that a chance opens up like this in front of you. Dare.

You straightened your shoulders. “Can you take me to the market?” The market isn’t as far as the city. But going in there is a once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity you couldn’t afford to miss. It was a step, no matter how small.

Hendery raised a brow. “What business do you have in the market?”

You played with your lower lip with your teeth. A fleet of a moment, and a moment you had surely missed: the way Hendery looked at your lips when you rolled it between your teeth. “Well,” you said, “I need to buy some food. And mother wouldn’t leave the house in fear of bandits robbing us.”

“Understandable,” he said. “But I have a condition to make.”

“Forget it—”

“Kidding.” Then he laughed. “You are one hell of a heartless woman, do you know that?”

A ghost of a smile painted your lips. “It is not right to say ‘hell’ inside the church. And why do you say that?”

“What about my wage?”

You blinked. “Oh, I— I didn’t bring any extra cash—”

Hendery placed his hand on the top of your head. “I’m just kidding.” Then he pivoted on his heel, his keys dangling between his fingers.

You followed.

“I thought you didn’t have a helmet.” You shot up a brow to your forehead upon seeing one helmet resting on his accelerator.

Hendery shrugged. “It’s for you.”

And there it wasagain, the wild beating of your heart. As if it was an animal begging to be unleashed to the world. “That’s… kind of you.” That had been the only thing you were able to say. “But how did you know to bring one?”

He disentangled the helmet from the accelerator. “Because I am always waiting for you.”

“For me? What do you mean?”

“I’m always waiting for you to ask me to take you to the city.”

Without giving you any time to comprehend his words and form coherent answers, Hendery fixed the helmet to your head. But before he could fully lock it under your chin, you stopped his hands.

“I think I’ll prefer to feel the wind.”

Hendery smiled, but continued to lock the helmet nevertheless. “Not today. I drive relatively fast, and the road to the market’s pretty bumpy. You won’t enjoy it.”

“I appreciate you, bringing this, but—”

He tapped the head of the helmet. “No buts.”

Hendery climbed his motorbike, then nudged his head to invite you to hop in. Just like the last time, you pulled up your skits and climb behind him. He revved the engine and you rode together.

The feel of riding behind him had become a reflex inside your body. A peaceful one, despite the blare of his engine and the harsh slap of the wind on your face.

“Hold on,” he reminded you before he accelerated the engine yet again.

You wrapped your arms around his torso. This was the second time you rode a motorbike, but the feeling compared to last time has drastically changed. There was no fear now. Only fascination and curiosity of what lies behind everything you have ever known.

If you’d only dare.

An hour before the clock strikes two, you have finally reached the buzz of the market.

When the pandemic ended, the livelihood didn’t go back automatically to normal. There were millions of protocols and reminders from the government. Because the pandemic didn’t really disappear like a bubble in the air. It was there, still. But after the years of its ravaging, the human body slowly adapted to its hazards.

It became just like the flu. More dangerous, yes. But less hazardous now.

“Wait for me here,” you said to Hendery.

“I’ll come with you.”

You stopped. “Are you sure? It’s quite chaotic inside. And… city boys are city boys.”

A playful laugh resonated from him. “I’ve been here before, sacristan. I’ll be fine.”

When he said that he’d be fine, it was true. Hendery jumped from vendor to vendor to help you buy all your needs. Be it meat, poultry, vegetables, or fruits. Father’s coming home in two days after weeks of being away, so Mother wants to cook something special for him. And you, too.

“Is this all?” he asked when you finished. Hendery insisted on carrying everything, which you politely declined. But he didn’t stop bugging you about it until you gave up and handed him everything.

“I need to buy onions over there, across the street. Could you hold this for me? I’ll be quick.”

Hendery nodded. You fished for your wallet inside your pocket. Halfway across the street, someone bumped into you.

“I… I’m sorry,” you said. But the man ignored you as he continued to walk away.

Five steps ahead, you noticed something. Your wallet was stolen. Before you could shout, Hendery was running for the boy already. Shocked and confused, you did the first thing that occured to your mind; run for them.

The wallet didn’t have much money, but it was given by your mother on your birthday. And you have been utterly sentimental when it comes to gifts. The boy can take the money, but he needs to give back your wallet.

Hendery ran pretty fast that you almost lost him in the maze of people and stalls alike. He turned left. You pulled up your heavy skirts and follow him. When you finally reached the alleyway he’s run off to, you have found out that it was a dead end.

Hendery was sitting on the boy’s stomach, and he had him by the throat. Few steps away from them, your wallet lays on the ground. You gulped and sauntered up to the two boys.

“What the fuck are you doing, Hendery?”

He knew Hendery? How come?

“Dude, you need to let me g—”

Hendery punched him straight. You gasped. The boy’s eyes rolled before his head collapsed to the ground. And he was unconscious.

Hendery stood up and picked your wallet. He didn’t look at you when he handed it back. “Let’s go home,” he says.

You stared at the boy with your brows narrowing. Is he a bandit? How did he know Hendery? Gripping the wallet tightly, you pivoted on your heels and walked away.

Something wasn’t right.

vii. From thence He shall come to judge the living and the dead...

“I say I beat the shit out of him right now,” Xiaojun seethed upon seeing Hendery enter the room.

Kun, while sitting on the table, raised a hand to stop the other boy from attacking Hendery. He had always been like that; the middle man. Yet Hendery could sense the disappointment as well as the inquisition in the air. This is going to be one hell of a night.

“Sit,” Kun announced as he stretched out his hand to the empty chair on his left side.

Xiaojun, Hendery’s comrade, had his fist clenched while sitting on the window sill. The punch he landed on his face has left a contusion to the bone right below his eyes. Hendery didn’t feel sorry. Not even a little bit.

Kun’s ‘office’ had been stripped off any furniture saved for a table and two chairs. There was only one light hanging from the ceiling. It casted off an orange hue to everything it touches.

If Hendery spends so much as an hour here, he would lose his mind. However, Kun has managed to make this empty place his abode whenever he plans out another robbery or crime. It was comparatively fitting, if he was to be honest.

When Hendery had made himself comfortable on his seat, Kun stood up. “I’ve heard entertaining news today.” He smiled. It would come off as a kind one if you were looking in the surface, but Hendery knew the depths of the edges of that smile.

Nevertheless, Hendery hasn’t been the one to be scared of anything. “Is it about me…” Hendery strays his eyes towards Xiaojun. “Punching someone?” The smile he casted after had completely set his comrade’s blood on fire.

Xiaojun jumped, attempting to attack Hendery once more. Kun gripped his arm in a firm hold. Xiaojun slouched back on the other chair, panting heavily.

“You’re fucking dead to me, Wong,” he spat.

Hendery leaned closer. “Bring it on.”

“Shut the fuck up, you both,” Kun sighed while massaging his temples. “Or just go ahead and get your guns, shoot each other in the head and be done with it.”

Tempting was the offer, but Hendery took it as a warning. However, it had been pretty effective. Hendery leaned back to his chair, hands dangling on his sides. “What’s the matter?”

Kun chuckleed. “You.” He licked his lips while pointing his finger at Hendery. “You’re really something else, aren’t you?”

“Well—” Hendery stumbleed and fell from the chair. That, he hadn’t seen coming. Kun had always been strong when it comes to boxing someone’s ears. Before Hendery could stand up, he spat blood on the cold floor.

Hendery wipeed his mouth with the back of his hand. It was his turn to chuckle. “I really am.”

Kun wrapped his hand around Hendery’s collar, then he slammed his back against the wall. Sight obscured because of of the hair falling down his eyelids, Hendery felt the blood flowing from the side of his mouth to his chin.

“Why did you do it?” Kun asked.

“What did I—” Hendery fell to the ground as his face met Kun’s fist. His vision blurs, causing him to blink languidly. Perhaps he heard Xiaojun’s laughters, or his sniggers, he wasn’t sure.

Hendery felt like a sack of cotton as Kun hurled him up with his back collar. His back was against the wall again. Now, he feels two warm liquid flowing from the sides of his mouth.

“Why did you do it?”

His mouth twisted in a leer. “None of your business.”

Hendery’s stomach caved in as Kun landed a punch to his guts. Air left his lungs for a moment, and he found it extremely hard to breathe. Hendery had always hated being punched in the stomach.

As he tried to catch his breath, he watched as Kun’s feet started to pace the space in front of him. Hendery continues to blink. Then Kun crouched.

“Who is she?”

She. Hendery stared at Kun. The years of them together flashed in his eyes like a projector in a wide white screen: the day he met his gang of bandits, his first time holding a gun, robbing a store, and shooting someone plays right in his eyes like a movie on repeat.

“None of you fuckers are going anywhere near her,” he stated in a voice so cold even the demon stared back at him in horror.

Kun was silent for a moment. Eyes hard staring at Hendery. Then he asked, “What the fuck is happening to you?”

Hendery realized that he had no answer to the question. But the thought of you, falling in danger feels like rotten food in his stomach. It made him want to retch.

Nobody had seen it coming, that was for sure. This feeling inside him— this wriggling feeling whenever he was with you. Whenever you smile at him. Whenever you tell him your dreams.

Hendery stood up and looked straight at Kun and then at Xiaojun. “Don’t fucking dare,” he warned before he pivoted on his heel.

Two steps away, Kun stated, “I’ll let you swim in your foolishness but don’t fuck this up, Hen. Remember why I sent you to the church.”

Hendery waved  his hand. “I remember.”

He’d gone straight to his own room and tended for his own wound. Hendery sat on his bed, meditating over his actions earlier.

For years he had been one of Kun’s best bandit. Ever since he met him under the bridge. Xiaojun landed his fist straight to his nose that day, too. And that had been all Hendery had known. To fight, to survive. Even if it means licking the edge of the knife.

The time Kun handed him a gun, Hendery knew his hands trembled. For that he missed his first aim. But as the days went by that all he’d ever held was a bullet, a magazine, and a gun, Hendery became as sharp as a pointed knife when it came to mowing down.

He stared at his calloused hand. The rough palms stares back at him, as if in insult. He’s lost count of the stores he’s robbed. Of the houses he’d stolen from. Of the individuals he pointed the barrel of the gun at. Is this what he has been born to do?

All he ever wanted was to meet his mother again. To hold that hateful woman in his arms. To tell her that her son survived and there has been an aching hole inside him ever since she disappeared without a trace.

Years of searching for nothing, Hendery thought he’s already turned every stone in this country upside down searching for his lost mother. And it all went in vain.

Hendery doesn’t know who to blame: the pandemic, his mother, or his own self?

You chewed on your bottom lip while walking the long road towards your home. The scene from the market, and the robbery that had taken place refused to leave your mind. You sigh, since those weren’t the only things trying to penetrate your brain. Hendery refused to leave, too.

Perhaps you should be thankful that he somewhat saved your money earlier. Bandits are heartless. The boy could’ve been carrying a pocket knife and Hendery would’ve been in grave danger. Yet he braved the possible risks and ran for the boy nonetheless. Worries aside, you cannot help but feel perturbed of the way the bandit called Hendery’s name.

Are they related? If yes, how?

Before entering your house, you straightened your back. Mother senses even a slip of your composure, and she’d never let you go unless you tell her what’s wrong.

You raised your fist to knock, then a familiar face greeted you when the door swung open suddenly. The bags you have been holding fell as you squealed and jumped to hug your father. “Father!” you exclaim.

He laughed as he wraps his arms around you. “My baby girl,” he chuckled.

“Dad!” you retorted, but laughed nonetheless. There is time for that endearment. “When did you arrive?” you asked as both of you pulled away.

“Earlier,” he saied as he muffled your hair. “I didn’t tell your mom, either.” As he said that, Mother occured from the kitchen with a spatula in hand.

“Time for dinner,” she announced with a smile.

Ah, that rare smile from her lips. Father was the only living thing who could pull up the edges of her mouth like that. It was refreshing to behold.

Father picked up the bags from the ground. “You carried all these by yourself?” he asked.

You automatically flustered. The image of Hendery carrying all you have bought earlier flashing back in your head without permission. “Y… yeah.”

It wasn’t as if they are illiberal when it comes to boys. But it was a topic you haven’t discussed with any of them yet.

“Hm, we really ought to buy a motorcycle, don’t you think?”

You turned to face him. “It would be convenie—”

“Who would drive? Me?” Mother interrupted. “Our daughter?”

Father placed the bags onto the kitchen counter. “Yes. Y/N is a fast-learner. She could defini—”

“I’m sorry but it is a no.” Mother smiled again, but there was an edge to it. “It is inappropriate for a lady to drive—”

“Who says?” you groaned. “It’s 2040, Mother.”

Mother crossed her arms over her chests. “And where would you go once you learn how to drive?”

You pursed your lips. Saying the word would only extend the argument. But it needs to be heard. “Perhaps then I could go to the city—”

“What?!” she exclaimed.

“... and study,” you finished.

Father cleared his throat. “That’s a good idea, actually.” He turned his head towards Mother. “Don’t you think?”

Mother made out an incredulous noise from her nose. “No, I don’t think so. The city is still contaminated with the virus and hedonism. There is no way I’m letting you—”

“Develop on my own?” you asked.

It had always been an argument: your dreams. And Mother always says no to every step you’d attempt to achieve them. You loved her dearly. But sometimes, you couldn’t help but feel a little annoyed of her decisions when it comes to your life. You were an adult— a capable adult. And yet you felt as if someone had clipped your wings before you could fly. It hurts to know that that someone was your own mother.

“Y/N!” she hissed, her eyebrows knitted together.

Father held up his hands. “There is no need for us to raise our voices. We can discuss this in peace,” he said.

But Mother wouldn’t back down. “There would be no discussion. I won’t allow it.” Then she turned on her back to finish preparing the food.

You looked down at the floor, eyes suddenly breaming with tears. This conversation had never failed to put you to misery.

“Cheer up,” Father whispered. “We’ll find a way.”

No. You will.

The next day, you couldn’t help but frown upon your reflection in the mirror. Same robes, same skirts, same hairstyle. There was nothing new.

You loved being a sacristan. You have devoted yourself in serving God and His Son, Jesus Christ. You have never missed a mass. It was a part of your life that won’t ever disappear. But duty and dream aren’t the same thing.

You have your duty to God, that you diligently and wholeheartedly accomplished for the last few years. But there was your dream, hanging like a blank canvas on the wall of your bedroom.

The village was your serenity. But the city holds everything that you have ever wanted.

Dare.

You harshly brushed your hair and fix your robe. The bones under your skin are unstoppable. You only have to dare. So with a deep intake of breath, you departed your bedroom, kissed both your parents’ cheek, and ran towards the Church. Where everything was going to happen.

Seeing Hendery casually sipping on his cigarette while leaning on the tree has put your rushing feet in a halt.

This boy. Always so alluring, always so mysterious, always so stubborn.

Hendery remained staring at the ground when you sauntered up to him. It would feel as if you were back on the day you first met him. When he exuded such obscurity that you found him irritatingly blurry yet interesting.

What happened yesterday still lingers in the back of your mind. Perhaps you should talk to him about it to quench  your interest. “Hey,” you greeted.

When he looked up, you covered your mouth with your hands in utter stupefaction. “What happened to you?!” you blurted out.

There were purple patches on the bone underneath his right eye and another on the side of his lips. Did the bandit get back to him yesterday? The thought made your stomach lurched.

“You look devastated,” Hendery commented.

You blinked. It was him who looked like an absolute wreck right now. How could he tell you that? “No. You are.”

“You are.” Hendery toucheed your chin to lift up your face. You let him. “See? It’s missing,” he said while staring at you.

His stare made you nervous. But you couldn’t look away. “What is?”

Hendery let his hand fall before he answers, “The fire in your eyes.”

The fire in your eyes. For the second time, you blink at him. You were a lover of poetry. Hearing this boy talk as if he had the verses of the universe in his tongue perhaps set your heart in a panic.

Sad eyes, bad guys, and a mouthful of verselet. You once thought someone like him won’t sweep you on your feet. Knowing that you were mistaken has left a bittersweet taste in your tongue. It was, indeed, beautiful to feel this way. This feeling you have for Hendery was a flower beginning to turn into a fruit. So fragile, yet so heavenly.

Would it be ready for the plucking?

You gulped. “Did the bandit get back to you yesterday?”

“This is nothing,” he said. “I found myself in a brawl yesternight. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You raised a brow. “I am not worried.”

That was his cue to laugh before puffing his cigarette again. “One hell of a heartless woman.”

“I am not heartless.”

Hendery looked affronted. “Really? Prove it, then.”

“Prove it?” You let out an incredulous sound. Then you crossed your arms over your chests. “How?”

“Admire me back.” He tossed his cigarette bud away. “Simple as that.”

Admire me back. You gaped at him, unable to form lucid words. What was that? Did he really ask you to admire him… back? “Is that…” you paused, “Is that a confession?”

Hendery placed the tip of his pointer finger against your forehead. Then he pushed lightly. However, he didn’t answer, he only walked past you. “You’re pretty unique,” he added. “I like your fire.”

“Wait!”

You ran for him. You have no idea what it was, but talking to Hendery has stirred the emotion you once felt earlier before leaving the house. The extreme drive to do something you haven’t done before and prove your mother that you are worthy of being left alone with your decisions.

Hendery turned to you. “What? Have you reciprocated my feelings alr—”

“Take me to the city,” you panted.

His smile grew wider. And the stars in his eyes shone, rivaling the blare of the sunlight above. “That’s better.”

viii. And His Kingdom would have no end…

A month ago, you would never have imagined yourself going out of the village. But here you wee, riding with a boy you only met four weeks ago, in his black and shiny motorcycle that was like a much safer version of a Harley. However, it didn’t lessen the agitation in your heart.

After years since you were born, this would be your first time to see the world beyond your village. You didn’t expect it to be beautiful. Since a global pandemic has swept through the continents twenty years ago. But you could say it was something you didn’t expect to behold either.

Copse of trees became a blur of brown and green as Hendery picks up the pace. There was nothing to see but the unending stretch of tall grasses and trees and the isolated road ahead. There weren’t even streetlights to guide you back later.

The wind slapped your face, with it the grimy feeling of running at 60 kilometers per/hour, and sniffing Hendery’s virile scent.

Hendery sure drives like the road was his and he’s alone in the world.

For this adventure, you refused to wear any helmet at all. It took minutes of disagreement, but Hendery had come in peace with it. If this was the first time you were riding towards the city— a place as strange to you as anything in the world— you wanted to caress it with your whole body. After all, this was an event more special than your own birthday.

As Hendery revved the engine faster, your grip on his torso tightened. Nonetheless, you bite your tongue to stop the squeal that was threatening to come out of your mouth. You will brave this ride. And there was nothing that would stop you from relishing this feeling.

All your trust and all your hopes of a safe travel were in Hendery’s hands today. And if you were to be honest, a sliver of doubt still flows in your veins. It has to be normal for a village girl to feel this way. Hendery could be infuriating at times, and he sure has this mysterious secret in his eyes, but he’s never done you anything hideous. Or perhaps you were only a naive girl, too blinded by ambitions and the overflowing courage in your heart, that you walked right into the devil’s trap.

You sent a silent prayer to God to guide you safely despite breaking the rules of your parents.

Slowly, the copse of trees became an expanse of water. Then you were traveling on a bridge, with a river below you. Busses, cars, and motorcycles alike run along the bridge, adding much to your adrenaline. You couldn’t remember the last time you have seen a bus. Perhaps it was when the students from the city took a trip to your village.

You turned your head to see the water. Few birds were flying as well as diving into the water to catch some fish. The wind coming from it was briny and sticky. But you loved it nonetheless.

Then the tall buildings loomed ahead, at the edge of the bridge. You cannot help but gape at it. How isolated have you become to marvel at tall buildings? Embarrassed as you were, you didn’t let it douse out your excitement.

Hendery slowed down as you meet the highway. On the pavements there walked the passersby. Some were hurrying, some were jogging with their dogs. Inside the coffee shops were lovers laughing while sipping on their drinks.

Despite the pandemic, the city felt alive. It thrummed with an energy you haven’t experienced before. It made you feel dizzy with excitement.

“It’s two p.m.,” Hendery stated before parking his motorcycle in a dead alley.

You hopped off. “Won’t you get in trouble parking here?” you asked, roaming your eyes around the two buildings covering the alleyway. In the village, there would be no problem parking your car wherever. But as far as you were concerned, city policies were different.

Hendery snickered. “Nobody would dare.”

By that, you raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “Nevermind.” Then he faced you with a smile. “Where do you wanna go?”

You deadpanned. “I’m not from here. You’re supposed to show me around.”

He feigned laughters. “Oh yes, I almost forgot. But—” Hendery raised his pointer finger as if in warning. “May I warn you that I’m not a ferris wheel type of guy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’m adrenaline embodiment.” Then he grabbed your shoulder softly and guided you towards the buzz of people.

As you walked with Hendery on the side streets, you looked up to the sky. It was gray but bright nonetheless. The type of weather wherein you wouldn’t know if it would rain or the clouds were only keeping the sun away.

Different honk of cars resonated everywhere, with the giggles of students as they walk home. There were teenagers sitting on the narrow alleyway, their clothes black and their pants ripped. You regarded them with narrowed brows. Then the two teenagers kissed.

“Oh,” you gasped as you cover your eyes. It felt private, albeit the fact that they were kissing in a public place.

Hendery chuckled. “That’s like, level 0.1 of the things that happens there.”

Before you could ask him what did he mean for the nth time that day, Hendery held your hand and tugged you. “See that sign up there?”

He stood extremely close to yours. Strands of his hair flew towards the sides of your face. You gulped before following his pointer finger with your eyes. He was pointing at the sign across the street. It was surrounded by different types of people, but students dominated the whole entrance. Above their heads was a huge sign board that says ‘Wonderland’.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head. “What is it about?”

“It’s a circus,” Hendery said as he turned to look at your face, “Last to arrive pays for the tickets. Deal?”

“Wha— wait! That’s not fair!” you shouted when he bolts away.

Hendery took a look at you while laughing. His hair obscuring his eyes. “Run!”

You exhaled sharply before gathering your skirts and running towards him. As your shoulders slammed to different bodies, you shout apologies on your wake. If this was a normal day, you would have to stopped and say your apologies with a bow. But this wasn’t a normal day. And Hendery didn’t even bother to stop even if he had to push students out of his way.

However, he drew in a halt as a little girl suddenly appears from a boutique. Hendery was still ahead of you by five steps, but because of the circumstances, you tapped his shoulder and run past him.

At last, it was time for you to cross the streets. The streetlight says red. You muttered, “Green, green, gree—”

“Didn’t take you for a… runner,” Hendery breathed with his hands on the sides of his waists as he stood beside you.

You ignored him. Then the lights went green. You stormed away from him, dodging the elders crossing the street. Hendery laughed behind you. And he was extremely close.

With one last force of a leg, you jumped the one meter distance from the pavement to the entrance line of the circus. “I won!” you shouted in triumph.

Hendery shook his head, disbelief visible in his face. “This is unbelievable,” he muttered.

“A ticket for two,” you taunted, displaying two fingers in front of him. “The deal is the deal.”

Hendery sighed and fished for his pocket. Perspiration trickled down your back as you follow Hendery towards the ticket booth. After he received the tickets, he handed you his kerchief. “For your sweat.”

You immediately raised your hands. “Oh, no! It’s okay!”

Hendery tilted his head to the side. “You are sweltering like a waterfall. Here, let me,” he said before pulling you and patting the kerchief to your forehead.

You looked away blinking, unable to form words as you felt the fabric pressing softly on your skin. As if you were a thin, breakable glass he feared that might break if he wasn’t careful. “Thanks,” you whispered when Hendery finally folded back the kerchief to his back pockets.

Both of you turned and faced the entrance of the circus.

The door opened, revealing two little person wearing brightly colored jumpers. Their faces were made up to copy the image of a clown. Both of their heads look up, then they scrunched their noses, clearly irritated of a customer.

“Come in,” they blabbered in unison.

You looked at Hendery. He had that same smile on his face when he walked through the turnstile.

The hallway that displayed itself in front of you were made of corrugated roof ceiling and walls. You felt as if you were in a box.

Different posters of performers adorned the corrugated roof walls. There is the two little person, on their jumpsuits, balancing themselves on a large ball. At your right side, there is the image of a mermaid. Of course, circus such as this one would have a fake mermaid. Then there is an image of a man playing with fire.

You cannot help but stare in awe. You have a knowledge of circuses since you have read books and watched movies to have a distinct image of it in your mind. However, you haven’t really experienced one.

Hendery walked beside you, not bothering to see the posters plastered on the wall. That gave you a hint that maybe he has been in Wonderland already. He was born here in the city after all.

“How many times have you been here?” you decided to ask, voice echoing through the hallway.

“Too many times to count.”

The two little person opened another door. You gaped in astonishment as you take in the picture of the whole circus. Lambent lights hung in different trees, giving the whole area a soft glow.

There wre families resting under the trees and students hopping to different food carts to another. It was a whole new world in the middle of the city. And it was so lively that you feel the energy thrumming in your veins.

Hendery stared. Not at the circus, but at you. Pure amazement adorned your face. And perhaps your eyes twinkled brighter than the lights, too. Hendery couldn’t help but smile. It was somewhat fulfilling taking in your expression. He took you for a woman difficult to impress. Yet he was mistaken. There was that glow in you that he hasn’t seen before in anyone else’s eyes.

And for the first time in twenty years, Hendery has seen the rainbow he was waiting for. It wasn’t in the end of the pandemic. It’s in you.

When you craned your neck to look at him, Hendery blinked and looked away, his heart thudding madly inside his chest.

He couldn’t believe it. This feeling. For someone as sinful as him, Hendery had never expected to feel this type of… fondness.

“I thought you weren’t a ‘ferris wheel’ guy?” You lifted a brow while quoting the air.

The ferris wheel was located at the very corner of the circus’ vicinity. As if on cue, Hendery’s childhood memories weaved their way back to his mind. The laughters of his father and his own giggles whenever they would ride the said ferris wheel.

After seconds of being taciturn, Hendery answered, “I’m not.”

“Really?” you teased. “You needn’t deny it!”

Hendery placed a hand above your head and ruffled your hair. “Come, I’ll show you around.” Then he stretched his hand to you.

Clearly flustered, you stared at his outstretched hand for a minute. You wrapped your hand with his. Taking his hand felt as if a manifold of experiences in itself, but it was thrilling nonetheless.

Both of you entered the tent where the mermaid perfoms. Of course, she was fake. But the craftmanship of her tail almost made you doubt your own eyes. It was simply marvelous.

Next that you visited was the fire-breathing man. The thing was, he was extremely talented and… cute. However, when you mentioned it to Hendery, his amazement deterred and he pulled you out of the tent.

Now you stood in front of a food cart, trying to pick between corndog or fries. You chose fries with lemon iced-tea. Hendery preferred the former.

“We need to go home,” you said while looking up at the sky. There wasn’t any brightness in the heavens any more, only darkness. The stars were hidden in the clouds, which give an ominous sign that it might rain.

And you couldn’t afford to rain. Your mother would go nuts. But then you thought how you have already defied her. Might as well enjoy the night, right? You heaved a sigh. No. You have to go home.

“Yes,” Hendery sighed. He was looking at the heavens, too.

Contemplative of the adventure you have experienced today, you looked at Hendery. Four weeks ago, you have resented his presence in the church because of your own preconceptions. But if this boy beside you didn’t arrive, you wouldn’t have the courage to defy your mother and finally go to the city.

In spite of everything, the saying proves true— that someone could go rebellious if ensnared for a long time. Yes, it was not pleasant to flout parents, but this freedom… you almost felt like a bird with its wings spread wider.

Hendery shifted, then he turned to face you. “Just one last destination.” He spoke the word with a certain anticipation. How could you deny him the chance?

Then you departed the circus.

“Is this safe?” you asked Hendery while you climbed the stairs of an unknown building near the alleyway where he parked his motorcycle.

“Yeah,” Hendery hummed. “This seems empty but trust me, this could be a party place.”

When he said that, you noticed the littered cigarettes in the corners. There were candy wrappers… and some rubber that you had no name for.

“This place is creepy,” you announce when you reach the last set of stairs.

Hendery’s laugh echoed through the empty place. “It’s not,” he said before pushing open a door that leads somewhere.

“A rooftop,” you stated as a-matter-of-factly. Your boots made a clocking noise against the pavement as you walk towards the railings. You stared in awe as different lights from the stores below twinkled like fireflies.

The darkness intensified the colors of everything. The city wasn’t perfect, but was beautiful at this time of the day. With the wind softly nuzzling your face, you breathed a sigh of relief at everything.

“This is beautiful,” you said in utter adoration.

Hendery leaned and grabbed the railings. His floppy hair dancing with the wind, once again falling down his eyelids. “It is,” he breathed.

At the horizon, some far away land stared at you, probably wondering of your unfamiliar face, too. There were mountains and there were also lights flickering from it. The sky was a darker shade of magenta turning black. It’s a pity that there were no stars to grace the heavens.

“Thank you, Hendery,” you whispered.

Hendery looked at you, a smile adorning his lips. “For you.”

Your shoulders brushed against each other, sending your heart into a marathon again. Then you sighed a heartful one. “I want to live here.”

“Really? This was only a façade, though. Bad things crawls out in this city.”

Bad things. There were bad things all around the world, though. “In the village, too,” you muttered, “Bandits. Everywhere.”

“Yeah. Bandits,” he repeated with the same contemptuous voice.

“What do you like most about this city?” you decided to ask. He’s from here. And he won’t stay if he doesn’t find anything beautiful here, right?

Hendery’s eyes were looking at the horizon while he answered, “My…” Then you notice the curvature of his throat as he gulped. “The memories of my family.”

Something inside you insisted to ask him further. So you opened your mouth to speak. “Where are they?”

Hendery displayed a painful smile before a chuckle resonated through him. “My dad died because of the pandemic, and my mom… she’s missing.”

You tasted something bitter in your mouth by the revelation. You shouldn’t have asked. Then you placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” The boy tried to smile when he looked at you. But an old pain still sparked in his eyes.

People tend to say it’s okay even when it’s not. You supposed it’s one of the ways for them to cope. Instead of forcing Hendery, you tried to smile for him, too.

“And your mother.” You cleared your throat. “Just ask me if you need any help.”

“Thank yo—” Hendery’s words were interrupted by the large pitter patters of the rain.

You gasped and shielded your head. Hendery does the same. Then the both of you run towards the building. The ravaging of the rainfall could be heard against the ceilings. It was the sound that pierces the ears. And you were afraid that it’s not going to stop any sooner.

“We have to go home,” you said while biting your nail.

“We can’t,” Hendery pronounced with a shrug.

You sighed deeply, forcing your knees to stand still. “My mother would kill me.”

Even though there was absolute dread to the words, you couldn’t feel any regret. You would’ve done it all over again if given the chance.

“You can call her,” Hendery suggested. “There’s a payphone down the next block.”

She would go absolutely unhinged once she knew about your whereabouts. But you have to at least tell her. Or lie about it. There was no other choice.

You mentally memorized your mother’s cellphone number. She has one, to contact father whenever he’s away. But she barely uses it.

“Let’s go,” you said.

While descending the stairs of the abandoned building, you thought about ways on how to dodge your mother’s possible questions. Lying has left a burning sensation in your chests. But it was the only way. And if it would somehow save you from the doom of being whip to shreds, you’d gladly do it.

Hendery offers you his leather jacket to use as an umbrella. You would have refused, but the rain was falling heavily. You cover your head before running.

When you reached the payphone, Hendery was drenched from head to toe. Due to some miracle that you couldn’t describe yourself, your corsage remained dry.

You delved for a coin inside your pockets and slid it with shaky fingers. Trying to squeeze himself inside the payphone, Hendery stoof mere inches away from you. Your chests too close to each other. Flustered, you focused on the phone still ringing against your ear instead of your bodies’ proximity.

You heard the click of the phone from the other line then the sound of your mother’s voice. “Hello?” she answered.

Running a damp hand through your hair, you gulped and said, “Mom, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N?” You could see her eyebrow raising in your mind. And that made you even more agitated. Mother wasn’t easily convinced. You would need to slid through a needle’s hole if you ever wish to successfully lie to her.

“Yes, Mom. I’m here— at—” You bit your thumbnail as you realize that you cannot truly deceive her.

“Where are you?” she asked, “Why is it so loud in there?”

Shoot. The harsh sound of the rain was, of course, loud. And it probably wasn’t raining that hard to the village or not at all. You needed to think.

“Mom— I— I have an errand to run for Father Ben,” you lied. “And… well… I am in the market. And—” You take a deep breath. “I don’t think I would be able to come home tonight—”

“What?” she said with a voice louder than the rain. “What errand? And why aren’t you coming home?”

“Mother, it’s strictly confidential!” You added just enough panic to your voice to make your deceit more convincing. “And Father Ben told me not to tell anyone—”

“Well, I am your mother so I deserve—”

“Hello? Mother? Mom? I can’t hear you!”

“Y/N—”

“Alright, Mother. I’ll take care! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

You dropped the phone immediately, not letting your mother say a word any more. Drawing ragged breaths, you let your back rest on the cold glass encasing the payphone. Then a laughter seized your attention. It was Hendery.

Baffled, you raised a brow. “What’s funny?” you asked, but you had a feeling that you know the answer to your own question. He found it amusing, your panicked conversation with your mother.

Hendery tried to shrug despite his laughter. “I just find it amusing,” he says as his glee receded. You glared at him, but the boy only pointed his finger right in front of your nose. “Now, quit being so strung up.”

“I am not,” your affronted reply. But he was right, your stomach was still tied in knots after the conversation. It was as if your mother would appear in front of you out of nowhere.

You looked at your surroundings. The buildings still towers over you. The road was drenched with rainwater and it didn’t seem to stop any time soon.

“Where do we sleep?” you asked Hendery, embarassed of the realization that you have no idea about the city and where you were supposed to sleep now that you were stuck in an unfamiliar place.

“‘We’?” he teased, “That sounds nice—”

“Hendery!” You hit his arm lightly, eliciting yet another fits of laughter from him.

“I know some place,” he said, “Don’t worry.”

You shrugged. “Well, aside from the fact that I wasn’t from here... and it’s my first time venturing to the city— yeah,” you sighed, “I really shouldn’t worry.”

He seemed not to sense the sarcasm lying within your words for he placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “You’ve got me. I won’t let anyone harm you, alright?”

Ah, the vulnerability in a rather cold façade. It’s marvelous to behold. You couldn’t help but smile. Romance books were true, after all. Once an aloof boy shows some affection, it really feels like lying in a field of cotton.

“You have to promise,” you said. Hendery opened his mouth to speak his oath, but you offered him your pinky finger instead. “Lock it.”

Hendery stared at your hand for a good minute before exhaling a ruminative sigh. Then he placed his pinky finger against yours. The both of you entwined your finger in a lock.

“Ah,” he sighsd at the sight of your coiled fingers, “You really are something else.”

If he was talking about the pinkies, you weren’t so sure how did he consider it something else. It was probably childish, yes, but on other spectrum of things, children rarely lies. That somehow strengthened his promise; the childishness yet purity of it all.

“Yes,” you said, a bit proud of the compliment, “I really am.”

You were in an unknown place, hugging the torso of a boy as you rode with him on his motorcycle. The lights of the cars the only lambency there is in an isolated road.

It should bother you— this unfamiliarity clinging in your bones. But all you could feel was the burning sensation of thrill as it flows in your veins; this strange freedom.

The night was a cacophony of rainwater splashing to everything it touches. With your body pressed against Hendery’s back, both of you braved the unforgiving rain. It was surely the night that would go down to your own history.

“Where are we going?” you asked, giving way too little acknowledgement to your soaked clothes and clattering teeth.

A new empty alleyway greeted you as Hendery turned left with his engine the only noise in the dead of the night. White street lights flicker as he slows down, then you come to a halt in front of an empty gasoline station.

Irradiant glow of pink and orange LED lights adorned the signage plastered above the store. At the sides of the vicinity, rows of motel rooms could be seen. Hendery killed the engine, then both of you hop off his motorcycle.

“Wait! I... I don’t have the money—” you tried to argue, but the boy only flashes you his most beautiful smile.

Still smiling, Hendery held your hand and you both ran to the columns of motel rooms. He roamed his eyes everywhere. When he saw no one, Hendery tugged you softly towards the stairs up to the second floor.

Now, there was no light adorning the second floor of the motel. But the glow of the moonlight casted its illumination towards the place, making a slanted shadow on the walls.

“How do we—”

Hendery turned to you and quickly placed a finger to your lips. “Shh,” he shushed.

There was something about the glint in his eyes that made you agitated and even excited. If both were possible to feel at the same time. Mischief oozes its way out of his body as Hendery pulls a piece of a metallic wire from his pockets. He, then, curled the wire with his fingers. Once done, Hendery inserted the wire to the doorknob.

“Hend—”

For the third time, he cut you off. “Trust me.”

In his eyes, something stirred. You caught a glint of it because of the moon. Hendery knows what he was doing, and it looks as if he’s done this a million times already.

You pressed your mouth in a thin line. Rubbing your hands against the skin of your arms, you look around while Hendery works his wonders to the door.

505, that was the number plastered above the doorframe. The room number.

Within a few minutes, there was a click. Then the door opened in front of you to reveal a typical motel room.

There was a bed near the blinds, then a bedside table. A 1960’s model of RCA television sat at the edge of the mattress, with a single ottoman beside it. The room had also been illuminated by a single deep yellow bulb.

It was 2040. Whatever remnants of 2020 remains, it doesn’t look like this. Motel rooms were a thing eighty years ago. However, you couldn’t complain. You have been wanting to sleep in a room such as this one. People can call you hopeless romantic, but that was the truth. There was a certain vintage love surrounding motel rooms which you yearned to experience yourself.

You looked at Hendery, who was currently standing beside you with a rascal grin on his lips. He was definitely proud of what he did. Notwithstanding of the circumstances, and of the fact that you have just sneaked into a private property, you couldn’t help but grin yourself.

This was way out of the rules of being a sacristan. And you would get a whole mass worth of scolding if Father Ben knew about your adventures today. Despite all of that, you couldn’t help but feel a swell of happiness and pride in doing what you did today.

“I assume this isn’t paid?” You raised a brow.

Hendery shook his head with a small chuckle. “Obviously.”

“Aren’t we gonna get in trouble doing all... this?” you asked him, voice laced with skepticism. Bold as you were, the thought of going behind bars in an unknown place still gives your heart a little bit of a jolt.

“We’re already in trouble,” Hendery said  nonchalantly, “Might as well enjoy it.” He placed his hand on your shoulders as he searched for your eyes. “Besides, this doesn’t happen all the time.”

You stared at the depths of his orbs. There seemed to be a permanent mark of roguishness dancing in his eyes that you only notice now.

What devilment in an angelic face. Bemusing as it was, you loved it. This Hendery.

“To me,” you said, “But you’re from here. And from

the looks of it, you’ve done this a million times before.”

Hendery’s shoulder shook from his laughter. He laughed so much for someone with sad eyes. “Yes. I won’t deny it. But this isn’t for me, though. This adventure is for you.”

It’s funny how a stranger could give you all you have ever wanted in a single day. By that alone, you knew that you would forever be grateful of this boy in front of you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “So much, Hendery.”

You didn’t know what it was, but Hendery lost his composure as his mouth gaped open a little bit. The sincerity of your voice moved him and made his knees weak.

This has been the first time he heard the words from someone. All he had known were the frightened prayers every time he would point a gun to someone, the muffled cries, the tear stained cheeks. It’s his first time to see sincerity to someone else’s eyes that was meant for him.

Perhaps you have seen it, too— the perplexity in his expression, the slight glitch of his demeanor. And it made your heart happy to see that you have affected him as much as he has affected you.

Hendery leaned closer, his face utterly close that you could make up your reflection in his eyes by the dim light of the light bulb.

He gulped, you did too.

It would deem as if no one amongst you had the experience of this... intimacy. No one had come close to your defenses but him. It rattled your bones underneath. And perhaps the world stilled when your lips met his.

It’s exactly like those in a romantic movie. It wasn’f rash, it wasn’t blistery. It’s soft... it’s heavenly. The kiss would compare to cotton touching another cotton. Both of your eyes were still open as you tried to savor the kiss. You were still thunderstruck beyond comprehension, but your lips were glued to his and there seemed no turning back. Not that you’d like too, anyways.

Hendery cupped your cheeks with his hands and pressed his lips against yours. You closed your eyes. In the blink of a moment, the kiss went wild. Now you would compare it to a sea under a storm. Raging and unforgivable.

You hadn’t noticed how your back had come into contact with the bed. But the surprisingly soft mattress hugged your back as Hendery lays you down slowly.

Your heart had its own business thudding harmoniously wild inside your chest with the kiss.

Hendery pulled away. You felt your plump lips and his had been red, too. With a second of eye contact, Hendery leaned and kissed you again. With the same fervor, with the same hunger.

Your hand shot up to his hair. The sound of someone kissing and your attempts to catch your breaths against the kiss, the only thing that could be heard inside 505.

His hands started to roam your body. His touches were like that of devotees; careful, with little prayers in every friction.

Lips a mere inch from each other, Hendery whispered with a raspy tone. “May I?”

You were here, and you were ready to do whatever this kissing ends up to. So you nodded.

He smiled while the moonlight caressed half of his face.

Then he brought his fingers to the laces of your corsages. With deft motion of a hand, Hendery pulled, the laces had come free, opening your collar bones and upper chests for him to see. The reveal of the skin made your breath hitch.

Hendery brought his fingers to the open skin, then he trailed— slowly, oh so slowly— downwards. As if your skin was Braille.

He kissed you. He whispered his confession in your ears. He touched you like he longed for you. He cried your name in a euphoric bliss.

That night, you weren’t a sacristan. You were a saint. Worshipped by a boy with the devil in his eyes.

But nobody— not even the moonlight slipping through the windows — told you about the doom that awaits your blooming love.

It was past four in the morning when you wake up. The room was dark, with the heavy light from the skies illuminating the floors through the blinds.

Hendery lied on the bed beside you. The light casted parallel lines on his bare chests and stomach. While you laid on your side, your hands between your thighs and a smile on your lips.

Hendery leaned to trace your shoulder up to your cheek, sending goosebumps down your back. Then he whispered the words, “You’re so beautiful.”

You would’ve hit him with a jest, but your breath seems to clogged in your throat. Pure words for someone with jagged edges. Then you suddenly noticed his tattoo. You still didn’t know what that meant. So you reached out your hand and traced his skin.

“What does your tattoo means?” You asked him.

Hendery held your hand that was tracing his tattoo when he answered. “Survive. To live.”

ix. I believe in the Holy Spirit...

“You really don’t have to, Hendery,” you timidly stated.

Hendery sighed, but his smile never disappeared. “You know I won’t let you go, right?”

It’s six a.m., the both of you have already finished donning your clothes. Some parts of the fabrics were still sodden, but nevertheless wearable. You picked up a lone thread from your skirt before standing up and facing the window. The dream was finished, and you needed to wake up now.

A sigh went past your lips as you stared at the horizon displayed before your eyes. You weren’t sure when you would experience this kind of freedom again, so it was better to seize the remaining moments of not being trapped into a cage that was your own house by taking in the view of a small part of the city.

Hendery stood beside you, his eyes far away. “How do you feel?” he asked.

A sudden heat crept up in your cheeks by the question. The unbidden imagery of last night threaded its way back in your mind. Did you regret doing it with Hendery? Not one bit. Some might call you stupid for falling in a love supported by unspoken promises and confessions, but the union with Hendery have made you feel whole somehow. Like you were in the skies, and the stars were about your reach.

He made you feel powerful. He made you feel worthy of devotion. He made you feel utterly you. No inhibitions, no pretense.

The honesty slid smoothly from your lips. “I feel incredible,” you answered. You turned sideways to face him. Hendery’s face was ethereal in the night, especially when his lips were parted, sweats trickling down his face. But as the early light of the morning hit his features, you couldn’t believe that he could even be this more beautiful.

“How about you?” you managed to ask.

A chuckle. Your heart made the familiar jump at the sound. “I’ve never felt this happy for years.” And it was the truth. Hendery thought that the money and power a banditry offers would give completion in his life somehow, that it would serve as stitches for his tattered life. But as he recalled everything that has happened since he met you, he might be stupid, but he knew real happiness when it’s staring back at him in the wee hours of the morning.

He would’ve bottled the sound of your pleas and your cries if he would, he would’ve kept your laughters in a treasure chest buried someplace else he only knew, he would’ve given you everything and anything— and perhaps he did— if he could. As he stared at your face, so goddamned innocent and peaceful, Hendery knew one thing: you would break him into pieces, and he would let you.

A smile painted your lips, erasing the agitation of what this new day would bring. “I wouldn’t have experienced all of this if not for you,” you told him.

Hendery laughed. “You wouldn’t have experienced all of this if you didn’t dare.”

That was him: the beam that was supporting your life. He’s never failed to make you feel as if you could do everything despite the odds.

Your smile widened. “But now we have to go back.”

“Yeah, unfortunately—” Hendery’s words were cut off by the sound of the bedroom door clicking.

Your eyes widened, but he kept a cool façade. Then it swung open, revealing a middle-aged man carrying a broomstick and a dustpan. His forehead creased as he saw you standing near the window, then realization hit him. “Who are you?!” he shouted.

Hendery gripped your hand, then he dashed for the door, pulling you behind him. The helper was too dumbstruck to even say a thing again, let alone stop you from sprinting away. Hendery was laughing all the way down the stairs, while your forehead was coated with little beads of sweat.

When you reached his motorcycle, Hendery let go of your clammy hand. “That was... incredible!” he gleefully stated.

You tried to catch your breath by gulping large bouts of air. “That was scary!” you told him after steadying your breath.

Hendery fished for his keys from the back pocket of his jeans while still laughing. “Sacristan girls,”

he muttered teasingly.

Rolling your eyes heavenwards, you crossed your arms over your chests. “You don’t have to be a sacristan to know what’s scary or not.”

Once again, the roar of the innkeeper echoed across the gasoline station, bringing you on a hurry to climb Hendery’s motorcycle. With a chuckle, he ignited the engine and revved through the day.

The city was deserted early in the morning. And it was undeniably dull. The paint from different buildings were chipped, and they could really use a renovation. You were baffled at how you didn’t notice the dullness yesterday. Perhaps it was your excitement getting the best of you. Humdrum as it was, this city would forever hold a special place in your heart, along with the man you have traveled here with.

The ride back home was enveloped in utter silence, not that you could hear each other over the loud blare of the motorcycle’s engine. And as you neared to the village, your heart couldn’t help but thud abnormally inside your chests. You felt as if your throat was constricting, air passage clogging. It would deem as if there was an apocalypse waiting for you back home.

No. You have to trust your intuitions, no matter how indistinguishable it was. Your mother knew you were safe, there wasn’t anything to fret about.

But you knew better than to calm down. Your father was a lot easier to convince than your mother, you let your heart loosen up by that fact, even just a little bit.

With the empty and bumpy road ahead of you, the familiar stillness of the village welcomed you back home. A sense of familiarity splashed on you at the sight of tall trees and green meadows. This has been what you have known all your life, you were coming back to it after a night of pretermitting.

“Stop right there,” you said in a voice so low even you had a hard time hearing the words.

Hendery knew that you would never allow him to be seen in the village, much worse with you. But after last night, a slight stab in his heart bloomed at the thought of you, not being able to introduce him to your parents just because he rides a shiny-black motorcycle.

And as if you heard his thoughts, you cleared your throat before Hendery could kill the engine on the side road. “Or... you could take me home.”

It was stupid. Imbecilic. A voice inside your head whispered that it was a bad idea, but upon seeing how Hendery’s lips turned to a smile by looking at the side mirror, all your fear had been vanquished. Suddenly, you were ready to face the world again.

Your grip on his shirt tightened as you entered the village. It was mid-morning. There were a few elders fanning themselves in their verandas under the blistering weather. They squinted at the sight of you, a sudden contempt in their lips which they conveyed as a frown.

“Turn left,” you mumbled, praying that he heard you just right.

By the silence that was unusual of Hendery to exude, you have contemplated that maybe he was nervous, too. The thought made you slightly giddy and anxious at the same time. You have never brought a man home. Not even introduce a boy friend to your parents. Just when you thought that last night would be a history of your own, this morning has proved you wrong.

Your stomach was empty, but you felt like retching in the bushes as Hendery stopped the engine in front of your house. Mother was tending to her flowers when you hopped off the motorcycle. Father was nowhere to be found.

You looked at Hendery before sauntering towards your mother. The rustle of your feet against the grasses garnered her attention. She looked up to see you, then to the boy beside you.

You walked up towards her to kiss her cheek. Mother stood still as your lips made a friction against her skin. She was looking straight at Hendery, who had a polite smile on his face.

You cleared your throat. “Mother, this is Hendery.”

Hendery stretched out his hand to your mother. “Hendery Wong, pleased to meet you.”

Mother stared at his outstretched hand for seconds. Your knees started to wobble. Then Mother took Hendery’s hand. “I’ll prepare the food,” she said, the tone unfathomable.

When she attempted to leave, Hendery quickly raised his arms as if to stop your mother. “It’s fine, Mrs. I just dropped Y/N off.” He looked at you and nodded his head. “See you at the Church, Y/N,” he said.

Your lips coiled in a frown. The atmosphere was thick, and there was no doubt Hendery felt it. Your mother could’ve been warmer in greeting him, but you knew better than anyone else than to force the time when it obviously wasn’t ready.

With a tone of both reluctance and slight disappointment, you mumbled, “See you.”

He nodded one last time before turning his back and getting on his motorcycle.

The same time Hendery revved the engine once more, your father went out of the house with a glass of cold water in hand. “What’s that about?” he asked.

The garden shovel your mother was holding was dropped as she focused her attention towards you. You braced yourself for the imminent storm that was coming. And there it was, in a voice so loud even the houses nearby grew hairs and got goosebumps, your mother cried out, “What on earth are you thinking?!”

Father sipped on his water, his brows arching above the rim. There was no accusation in his eyes, only interest and confusion.

“What do you mean, Mother?” You tried to make your voice sound strong, but it came out as a breathy question.

“What do I mean?!” she roared. “Where were you last night? Tell me the truth.”

Truth be spoken, you were utterly rebellious to neglect your mother last night. But the wanting to experience something greater for once has overcome all your senses. Was it really abhorrent to experience such freedom?

You could feel your veins popping up your temple. Your breath was becoming ragged. And the stubbornness that was trying to envelope you didn’t help. It felt like a bomb ready to explode at any given moment.

“Where have you been—”

“The city!” you screamed back. “I went to the city with Hendery!”

Mother looked at you with a tormented face. From the way her mouth hung open with her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets, you could tell that she’s beyond horrified by the revelation.

“How dare you?” she whispered, “How dare you lie to me?”

Father was on her side instantly, laying a gentle hand on her back. “We all need to calm down—”

“Calm down?!” Mother turned to face him. “You’d expect me to calm down when my own daughter defied me?”

You bit your lower lip. What was the big deal? What the fuss was all about? It wasn’t as if you didn’t come home. Here you were, safe and sound.

“I’m sure Y/N could explain herself, right?” Father raised an encouraging brow at you. His lack of judgement pierced your heart with a throb.

“Yeah,” Mother said with enough scorn to make you recoil. “Let her narrate everything!”

You tried to catch your breath before forcing your face to look up to your parents. “What’s so wrong about going to the city?”

“Oh, you are one naive girl,” Mother stated as she made noises in her nose. “You could’ve been infected! You could’ve  brought danger into this home!”

“Mother!” you hissed. “The pandemic has already disappeared! I want to live a normal life now!”

Mother looked at you as if you weren’t her daughter but a mere stranger she’s picked a fight with. “Why are you so foolish and stubborn?”

“Why can’t you let me live my life?” you retorted.

“That’s enough,” Father warned with a commanding tone. His jaw was pulled taut. One more push and the three of you would burn right where you stood because of vexation.

Mother heed no warning for she continued to look at you as if she was contemplating to push you back to her womb. “I’m keeping you safe.”

“Safe?” You could almost laugh. “I don’t want safe.” I want freedom. I want danger. I want the sin. I want the rush.

“That’s enough talking back, Y/N. Return to your room and change,” Father commanded.

Mother’s lips were compressed in a tight line. You’ve expected her to say something, but no words were heard from her as Father guided her back to the house.

You were left alone in the garden, with your neighbors peeking at their fences to catch gossips.

You wish this world had been a little bit forgiving, a little bit welcoming for boys like him. He wasn’t cruel. He was kind... he was protective. And he was a tether to the dreams that you tried so hard to achieve. Without Hendery— the only person who believed that you were meant for greater things— you wouldn’t know what to make of your life anymore. Sure, you would get back on your feet. But you would never want to feel alone in the battle again. You didn’t want to start empty again. And you would never wish to be parted from Hendery. Ever.

x. The Holy Catholic Church…

“Oh, look who’s finally arrived,” Kun uttered with a shit-eating grin as Hendery appeared in the abandoned building Kun made a rendezvous in the outskirts of the town.

For weeks, they stayed and made their camp here. With Kun occupying the last and only good-conditioned room in the building. There, he’s beaten by Hendery for apparently mowing down Xiaojun’s jaw.

The grin Kun had on his face intrigued Hendery, but he wouldn’t let it show on his face. With inquisition was an annoyance Hendery didn’t know where he came from. It was just there, crawling on his skin. Perhaps it was his encounter with your mother, and the lack of warmth in her welcome.

But could he blame her? Not one bit. Hendery didn’t even think of meeting someone else’s parents and being introduced as a lover, but after getting chummy with you, his aspirations in life went a little higher than what he deserved. Hendery knew that it was a bad thing to be zealous, but that was what he had known after joining Kun’s banditry.

“What’s going on?” he asked, albeit not having the heart to inquire in the first place.

After a day and night with you, Hendery yearned for one thing: sleep. He just couldn’t close his eyes when you were lying on his side, with your peaceful face and soft snores. Hendery wanted to capture every moment, to memorize each line of your face, to be drowned in the serenity of the night.

His other comrades were nowhere to be found which was new. At this time of the day, all of them needed to report their sleuthing of a certain area assigned to them. Kun wanted to know everything.

Kun’s grin only widened. “How’s your job, Hen?”

Hendery ran a hand through his hair. “I’m still trying to make my way onto the priest’s chamber.”

Kun sat up on the swivel chair and placed his feet on the table laid before him. “If I’m not mistaken,” he started, “It’s been months since I sent you to the Church. And until now, you still don’t have anything useful to tell me.”

Hendery’s jaw twitched. He hated how he’s inclined to answer every Kun’s calls. And he had never felt this way before towards his work, that was if you could call banditry a job. He was always the best. That made him Kun’s favorite. But that was before he met you.

Meeting you really had changed most of his beliefs about life. He’s almost convinced to let go of his wretched ways and have a normal way of living— a life he could be proud of. And a life with you.

“Father Ben’s strict,” Hendery lied. The priest was as kind as a deer. If Hendery wished to enter his chamber, he’d gladly let him out of his trusting nature. And that would be the end as well as the start of everything. Hendery still wasn’t prepared to drop the new life he has, because that would mean he has to let you go, too. The mere thought made his stomach recoil.

“Strict?” Kun asked as he raised a playful brow. “But you’re my best asset, Hen. There is no ‘strict’ when it comes to you.”

If these were normal times, Hendery would’ve smirked by the compliment. But he knew what Kun meant. And he’s heard the warning even if it was unspoken.

Months ago, Hendery and Sicheng started searching for places to rob in the isolated villages near the local market. Until they had come across the Church. Upon their nightly visit and hawkshawing, Hendery found out that Father Ben has a golden necklace. The thing has become their target ever since. However, you wouldn’t see Father Ben taking the necklace off. Hendery won’t be able to steal it without violence.

He would’ve finished the work sooner than intended. Besides, he knew brutality like the back of his hand. It had become his armor through the years. And Father Ben didn’t hold a special place in his life, no matter how nonjudgmental the priest was. He could easily wrench the necklace away from his neck without any remorse. But he feared you.

The thought of failing you, of disappointing you, and of showing Hendery’s true colors to you has left his courage dwindling.

What cowardice. He would’ve punched himself unconscious if he could. Hendery wasn’t familiar to this kind of weakness, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.

Hendery shifted on his seat, shaking off the tension from his body. “The priest was surprisingly guarded,” he lied once more. Father Ben was as permeable as the Church itself. It was Hendery’s own choices that the work has slowed down.

Kun hummed. He withdrew something from his drawers. Picture, Hendery noticed, but he was too tired to even think about its connection to the current discussion. “Perhaps you need some boosters to help you do the work.” Then Kun slowly placed the picture flat on his table. Hendery couldn’t see the image well for he was leaning back on his seat. Kun waved his hand. “Look.”

He knitted his brows together. Whatever it was, Hendery had a bad feeling that once he leaned, there would be no turning back. Nevertheless, he didn’t have much choice, did he? So he leaned, like a good boy that he was, and stared at the image.

Hendery bit back the sound which tried to echo from him at what the image displayed. It was his mother. On a hospital bed, looking withered and close to death. She was too frail. Too weak.

Hendery swallowed a sob. “How...” He gulped a few times before willing himself to continue. “How did you find her?”

Should he be rejoicing? He should be happy, right? But why did he feel miserable now more than ever?

“I told you. I’ll help you find her,” Kun said.

Hendery kept looking at the picture, afraid that it might disappear if he blinked. “Where is she?”

Kun chuckled then stood up. Hendery fought the urge to grab him and punch his face. “You act as if you don’t know how to play this game, Wong.” Kun’s fingers grabbed the edge of the picture. He tucked it inside his pocket, his grin never leaving his face.

Hendery bit the insides of his cheeks. Of course, he knew how this game works. “I’ll bring you the necklace tomorrow.”

That night, Hendery washed away the sleep by downing cups of coffee. The liquid takes its root inside his system, pumping blood in a pace that would keep him awake.

He sat on his made-up bed, with a lamplight beside him, providing little to no warmth against the cold. With a white silky towel in hand, Hendery wiped his handgun. It had been a while since he last pulled the trigger. And the weight was dead in his hand.

Perhaps there was no more redemption left for his torn soul. Perhaps he was only fooling himself in believing that his life could be better. Perhaps he was glued to violence and not even you could save him from it. No matter how hard he tries to believe that you could.

xi. The communion of Saints. The forgiveness of sins…

A knock on your door woke you from your trance. You realized you were looking at your reflection on the mirror mindlessly.

“Come in,” you said, clearly indifferent to the possibility that it might be your mother standing and knocking on the other side of the door. But you knew better. She would never raise the white flag for her daughter.

With one last sweep of your hands along your robes, you waited for your father to finally enter. When he did, he went straight to the bed and sat. He’s cornered you, there was no escaping from it now.

“Spill it, Father,” you mumbled, trying to sound as friendly as possible. It was enough that you have stretched your mother’s irascibility. You didn’t need another enemy in this house.

“You do know why mother’s angry with you, right?” he asked. Before you could answer, he continued, “It’s not just about the fact that you went home with a boy. And that you went to the city without telling us.”

A sighed. Then you whirled to face him. “I don’t understand her need to be angry. I am safe. And if she’s talking about the pandemic... I am alright, Father.”

It was Father’s turn to sigh. “I don’t have anything against you going to the city. I know your dreams, your aspirations. But you must understand that your mother’s protective of you because she loves you. And the pandemic isn’t gone. It’s there, we just don’t see it now since its effects have died down.”

You looked out the window, feeling as if your tears might betray you anytime. “I just want to experience life.”

Father walked up to you and placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “I know. Hell, I want you to live life to the fullest, too. Have fun, have mistakes. Kiss boys. Be crazy. But it isn’t the time. Your mother’s still not ready.”

With tears brimming, you looked up to your father. “And when would she be?”

Father smiled his kindest one. “Soon, darling.”

—

Your walking towards the church was occupied with birds chirping in the branches, and flowers blossoming in the meadows. Perhaps it will be a bright day despite the darkness of yesterday.

Hendery never left your mind, even though you have a lot to think about. He was etched in your brain, like some sort of a tattoo you wouldn’t be able to erase. That made you think whether he was thinking about you, too.

You shrugged the thoughts away as you arrived at the Church. It was unusually silent when you arrived. At this time of day, the other sacristan should be running around and helping clean the surroundings. It didn’t settle well with you.

“Kristan!” you called out when you saw him running towards Father Ben’s chamber. Is the priest sick?

Kristan halted to wait for you. You huffed a breath as you laid your hand on his shoulder. “Where is everyone?”

The little boy bit the insides of his cheek. He didn’t meet your eyes when he said, “At Father Ben’s chamber.”

“What are they doing there? And what’s that for?” you asked, regarding the white and clean towel he was holding. Instead of answering, Kristan held your hand and pulled you towards the priest’s chamber.

The little bedroom was jam packed with the sacristans occupying most of the spaces. Father Ben was sitting on his rocking chair, with what you could tell was an ice-cube inside a clean towel being pressed on his left cheek by Lucy.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. “What happened here?” you asked particularly no one.

Father Ben winced. “I am alright, hija,” he said. But he looked nothing like that.

Lucy glared your way. Her eyes were full of accusations. “Hendery did this to him,” she practically spat out the words with venom.

Now you couldn’t even feel your heart anymore. Hendery did this? How? Why? Despite feeling numb, you stepped closer to Father Ben. “Hendery... did this?”

How... Why... Gods, why? Father Ben looked at Lucy’s way, then the latter pursed her lips. She washed the cloth into the nearest basin, therefore allowing you to see the cut in Father’s cheekbone.

“He... punched me earlier,” Father Ben said in a low voice. He was undeniably pained by what happened. You couldn’t even bring yourself to speak, let alone react to something other than a thunderstruck expression. “And he stole my necklace.”

By that, you grabbed the nearest chair and sat. You placed your hand between your chest. This is all too much. Your bones felt like collapsing. “The... the necklace your mother gave you?” you asked this without looking at him. It was hard to do that when you feel responsible for everything that has happened.

No, it isn’t right to hurt yourself like this. But Hendery has been with you since day one. If he planned something as horrible as this, you would’ve known. You should’ve known. How could you be so stupid?

“Yes,” Father Ben breathed as he absentmindedly reached for his necklace. As far as you could tell, the necklace was given to him by his mother when he was little. It was an heirloom of sorts. A treasured legacy.

“How could he do this?” Lucy interrupted. “We welcomed him here. Believing that he was good.”

“It was another thing to steal. And another to hurt someone to rob them,” Rei added.

You really couldn’t blame them. You were in absolute shock to even argue and pretend that Hendery was better than this. They wouldn’t tell you he was the culprit if he wasn’t, right? God, you couldn’t breathe.

“I think he’s a bandit,” Lucy stated once more.

With that, you looked up at her. “That is a grave accusation to make, Lucy.” Now, you are even making excuses for Hendery. You could laugh from your own imbecility.

“Yes. I know,” she said. Then she stood tall. “But what would you have me call him? A grave man deserves a grave name.”

“Perhaps he has his reasons.” Your voice sounded uncertain. For you have no idea what could be the reason behind all this..

Lucy sniggered. “I used to think you were reasonable, Y/N. Don’t stoop so low. He’s hit Father Ben. He’s robbed him. Whatever reason he might have, it was wrong.”

You fell silent. Lucy speaks the truth. Hendery has done something hideous. He could be a bandit all along. He could be the one who’s been robbing the villagers off their small riches all this time. And yet… how? How could he smile at you like he could replace an angel in heaven? How could you be so naive and stupid?

Without your own realization, you have run away from the Church already. To where? You have no idea. But you needed to free the tightening rope inside your chest— you need to salvage your heart off a heartache. Seeing Father Ben dispirited, as well as your co-sacristans, have shot a bullet to your heart.

You felt ashamed and wounded. But before mending your own wounds, you have to search for Hendery first.

xii. The resurrection of the body...

Million thoughts ran in Hendery’s mind as he looked at the emaciated body of his mother lying in a hospital bed. A glass separates them both, but he felt far away to her now than before. She was looking so frail— as if her bones would snap if you did so much as to hold her hand in a featherweight touch.

Her situation pierced Hendery’s heart with a sword. It didn’t matter that he’d found her now. He doesn’t feel happiness for this accomplishment. Misery. Hate. And that hole of missing his mother for years were the only things he could coax himself to feel.

Perhaps he was too far gone because of his loathsome heart. Or perhaps it was because of the teenager standing beside his mother’s bed, sobbing his heart out, while a middle-aged man pats his back to soothe him. As much as Hendery didn’t want to admit it, he could see the same nose and lips that he’s got from his mother in the boy to even deny the truth. He’s his brother. Half-brother.

He balled his hand into fist. Sudden heat coated Hendery’s tear ducts. He swept the lone tear away with his jacket-sleeve. He’s accepted the truth before— he’s made peace of the fact that his mother abandoned him. But why does it hurt to look the truth in the face? She’s cared and loved another son while Hendery longed for her embrace. She’s fed another mouth while Hendery starved in the streets.

Why must the world be cruel?

Hendery stepped back and sat on the chair beside the glass window. He made himself as unimposing as possible until the father and son departed the room. Hendery gathered himself and walked towards the door, towards his mother.  

“A... Alec, is that—” Her mouth abruptly clamped shut as she realized who was standing before her. Without another word, her shoulder shook and there were tears in her eyes.

Hendery looked up, biting his lip. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. He won’t cry. “Come on, mom,” he stammered. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me for a long time, right?” Then he looked at her. She was coughing and sobbing now. Hendery had to help her sit up to give her some water.

“Is that really you?” she asked, thin fingers crawling at Hendery’s cheek. Her hand was cold. But it gave Hendery the warmth he was searching for. “Son,” she choked, “I’m sorry.”

Her voice was too weak. Hendery felt like he shouldn’t let her talk. So he shushed her instead. “I...” he stuttered, “I hate you, mom.” That’s it. He won’t hold back. He needs to say it. “I hate you so much. You left me. You left me to die.”

If her mother looked thunderstruck, her sunken eyes didn’t show it. “Hendery, son, I didn’t—”

“I became a bandit to survive. I kill now, mom. I kill so I can live. I kill so I can find you. I’ve asked myself a million times whether it was your fault I became like this.” Hendery snorted at the end. “But it was of my own choice so I couldn’t really blame you, could I? I chose this path to survive.

“I learned how to hold a gun because I need it. I’ve robbed people for money. For my own glory. For you. You left me in the dust. And all my life I’ve wondered why. Why did she leave me? Didn’t she love me? But I’ve thought about it and realized that I don’t need answers. I just need to see you.”

Her mother sobbed again. “I’m sorry, son, I’m sorry— I was scared.”

“Scared,” Hendery repeated. “We would’ve been fine together, mom. You and I.”

“I know,” she choked. “But when your father died— I was scared of the reality that we were alone. During a pandemic. The both of you were hanging on for your lives inside the ICU. And I’d nearly lost my mind.

“When he died, I didn’t have the chance to say good bye. They took him and burned his body. I was alone. Alone, thinking that you could be the next one they’d burn and I won’t have the chance to see your beautiful face for the last time. Instead of facing it all, I called your Aunt. When she came, I left.”

Hendery wanted to tell every abuse he’s gone through with his Aunt. But he didn’t want to remember those times, and he didn’t want to add into his mother’s guilt.

“I’m dying, son,” she whispered.

That, Hendery could tell. There’s a pang in his heart, yes, but he knew that there won’t be happy endings for bad people like him. All of us die in the end, however.

“I’m happy to see you,” she said, “It’s all I’ve ever wished to God every night.”

God. Is this what it feels like to know that someone has been praying for you? He felt... empty. Like everything is too late. The wound has been crawling with worms and there’s no more gauges to stop the pus.  

“Do they... know me?” Hendery asked, voice low.

Her mother pursed her lips together. “No. I haven’t told them about you.”

Of course, Hendery muttered in his mind. He stood up, smoothed his shirt with a forced smile and looked down at his mother. “I’ll better be going, then.”

“Where are you going? Hendery, son...”

Hendery placed his hand on his mother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about me. I am fine.” Far from it, but you didn’t need to know that, he thought.

His mother’s eyes were red-rimmed, thus accentuating how sunken they’ve become. “Can you... give me a hug?”

Hendery blinked as he did not expect such favor. But he leaned forwards absentmindedly, and hug his mother tightly. He first heard his own sob before realizing that he was crying like a little boy in his mother’s arms. This wasn’t the reunion he had in mind. He thought they could still reunite and make a life together. Be away from people. Hendery thought he would take care of his mother until she’s grey and old.

But life has other cruel plans. The path has been twisted years ago. And whatever he could get from this hug, it is enough.

It would be enough.

With an empty mind, Hendery drove through the night. He didn’t know where to go. His mind has been blank since his visit to the hospital.

What does he feel? Fuck, what does he feel? He felt ashamed. For everything that’s happened today. From the way he cornered and punched Father Ben just to get his necklace. He wanted to blur and erase the shame. He wanted to disappear.

Hendery revved the engine. Faster and faster, he drove without destination. The wind got harsher, the night still dangerous. He couldn’t take his mind off Kun’s smile when he finally handed him the golden necklace. Kun tapped his back and congratulated him, his eyes twinkling like stars. Hendery never wanted to see the same sparkle in the man’s eyes anymore.

Then his mind drifted to you. Knuckle white around the accelator, Hendery bottled up the scream that has threatened to explode from him. You. With your kind smile and angelic face. You’re so good. And Hendery let you down. For once, he met someone who was willing to accept his flaws and every bad thing about him. But he answered you with claws.

So after all the disgrace, why did he stop in front of your house?

The village was quiet. No more lights could be seen inside the house. A further indication that you are already asleep. Despite that, Hendery found himself walking towards the small alleyway leading to your room. There’s a tree, beside your window. Hendery hesitated for a moment whether he would knock on your window to wake you up. Besides, he has been reckless with his decisions and he didn’t need you to think of him as a creep.

However, he stood a few meters away from the window. And there, all his muscles strained. He was locked up in his place as his eyes met yours. Donned in your nightgown, you stood there looking outside. Your own eyes turned wide as you realized that Hendery was standing if not in front of you.

He gulped, then quickly pivoted on his heels to walk away. No. He isn’t ready to talk to you tonight. The shame was too overwhelming for him to ignore.

“Hendery!” you screamed, and that would’ve been enough to wake the whole house.

Hendery’s steps faltered.

“Wait for me,” you uttered just enough for him to hear.

He sucked in a breath. No. He couldn’t do this. But before he could decide to run away, a hand tugged him. Hendery faced you. You had your hand in your chest as you tried to calm your breath.

“Y/N,” he whispered. Here you were, standing in front of him under the pale moonlight. Everything would’ve been romantic if not for the circumstances.

“Hendery.” You say his name like he’s good. Like he deserves forgiveness. Why?

“I…” he stammered, “I did something hideous.”

He expected you to accuse him. To shout at him. But all you did was to hold his hand. “Why?”

Hendery’s hand abruptly trembled. He bit his lower lip so hard, it bled. “My mother,” he choked. “Y/N… I saw her. Everything is for her.” He couldn’t stop his sniveling no matter how he try to stop it. In between sobs, Hendery told you what happened, his hand never letting go of yours. The shame that he’s felt has been obliterated clean. He didn’t even care about the tears rolling down his cheeks.

After he opened himself up to you, you reached for him and hugged his body tightly. Hendery fought the urge to cry again. So he hugged you back instead, drowning in your scent.

When you pulled back, there’s a lone tear sliding down your cheek. Hendery wiped it away with his thumb, cupping your cheek with his cold hand.

“Now. This is what we’ll do,” you began.

xiii. And life everlasting…

You paced in front of the altar, trying your hardest to contain your heart inside your chest. It’s been at least twenty-four hours since you last saw Hendery. Your mind would explode thinking of what could’ve happened to him now. He’s supposed to come back an hour later.

You started to think that maybe it was a stupid plan all along. But you couldn’t blame him. He wanted to redeem himself to Father Ben, albeit it’s hard doing so. And he really didn’t plan to do exactly that. Hendery only wanted to return the necklace.

After his visit last night, where in he told you all that has transpired between him and his mother, you told him how important the necklace was for Father Ben. It is an heirloom, given by his mother.

You tried to coax Hendery that he should go to church and ask for Father Ben’s forgiveness. And yet he insisted that he would return the necklace. No matter what happens.

No matter what happens. That didn’t sit well with you.

In the end, you couldn’t argue with him anymore. He was determined to prove himself: that he’s worthy of good things and of forgiveness. Such raw emotions. It made you cry.

You agreed to meet here in the Church. Hendery says it’s safer this way. It is still the house of God, according to him. No one would attempt to harm you here.

You faced the altar and knelt, but before you could chant the first prayer, the latch of the door sounded. Hurriedly, you stood up on your feet.

In the dark, the silhouette of Hendery was drawn. He limped towards you while clutching something in his hand. You ran towards him, relief flooding your system. Tears pricked your eyes by how at ease you’ve felt by seeing him.

“Hendery!” you squealed and hugged him tightly.

He chuckled weakly before pulling away. “Here,” he says. “For Father…” Then he coughed. He coughed. With blood spurting out of his mouth. Your heart dropped on your feet. No.

Before you could think, Hendery fell to the floor, kneeling. Bouts of cough attacked his throat.

“Hendery,” you sobbed, “What happened?” You knelt in front of him, holding his shoulders to support his frail body.

“This is nothing,” he tried to say, but the world were muffled.

Panicking won’t help. So you strived to remain calm although your heart was beating jarringly inside your ribcage. And in the end, you sobbed and cried. “Help!” you cried out with all your might. “Help us! Hendery!”

You locked Hendery’s arm around your shoulder and hurled yourself up. But his weight was dead and he doesn’t seem to be doing well. “Hendery, please!” You were a crying mess. Vision blurry, throat wrapped up in pins and thorns and needles. You placed your arm around his waist and tried to hurl him up for the second time, but Hendery screamed in pain as you made contact with his side.

He fell to the ground.

And there was too much blood.

Blood. You stared at your trembling hands.

“No!” you screamed. “Hendery!” You sat and scooped him up in your arms, tears streaming down your face to his. “Stay with me! God!”

Hendery’s eyes were drooping now. They look like crystals, frantic and wild. “I…” He coughed. Blood came out of his mouth again.

You shushed him, brushing away his hair sticking to his forehead. His skin was feverish. You choked again and again, trying to gulp down your cries. “Stay. With. Me.” You give emphasis to each word. “Hendery! No! No! Stay awake! Please!” You even started to slap his cheeks just to keep his eyes open.

Then his bloodied hand found your cheek. You sobbed as it made contact with your skin. “You…” he uttered under his breath, “you’re... so beautiful.” Hendery flashed you a smile. His teeth coated with blood.

“Please.” You bit your lower lip. “Stay with me.”

Hendery stared at your face, tears streaming down from his eyes. “So…” he whispered again, drawing circles on your cheek, “... beautiful.”

Then his hand fell.

Hendery spent his last breath with you. In front of the altar. With God your only witness that night.

Amen.

[meiideryz]

map to my heart.

pairing: wong hendery x reader

length: 1.06k

tags: alternative universe, university/college au, friends to lovers, indirect confession, mutual attraction, tooth-rotting fluff, best friend! hendery, assistant librarian!reader, based on true experience.

note: i was inspired by a conversation i had with my ex-crush when i was with them in the library where our lesson on a subject took place

"how well do you know your geography?" hendery's voice was gentle and low, keeping himself quiet in the back of the library with students who cannot be disrupted.

he watched you looking at the library globe before your eyes met with his. after finishing an activity that his professor had given him, he was able to freely look around, and there he saw you at the back with the globe you were spinning at a slow place. it was a fortunate meeting, knowing how well you often visit the library since you were an assistant in helping the librarian after all.

“do you know your geography?”

this time, you returned the same question to him, and of course he knew. he just wanted to test how good you were, and with a smile on his face, he responded. “of course, would you like a challenge?”

“i'm down,” hendery loved how there was no hesitation in your tone, and he especially loved your competitiveness when it comes to interests you both have in common. “only because i can totally win over you.”

“oh? really?” his hand made its way to touch the globe, preparing himself for a little game of spotting the country. “give me a name, then.”

“laos.” you said, and he smiled at you.

“easy,” he began spinning the globe in front of him, looking for the location you had asked him to find. “if you know countries from asean very well, then there's no difficulty in searching for it.”

pausing the sphere, hendery's forefinger pointed to the land just above thailand before he gave you a victorious grin. “see? now try looking for sri lanka for me.”

he heard you let out a huff, watching you already turning the spherical ball, and when you showed him that you had already spotted it, he gave a fake sound of a terrible whine which almost made you laugh. covering your mouth with your palm, your other hand made its way to his arm with a light smack. both of you suppressed a laugh, knowing how much they could get in trouble if they ever disturbed the library, with him being thrown out and you enduring another scolding session from the librarian.

“you really should stop making weird noises if you don't want to be thrown out from here.” giggling in a whisper, he couldn't help but fall in love with the way you beamed at him.

hendery was so, so in love with you.

he moved to stand beside you with his head leaning closer to your ear, saying, “shoot me a name, sweetie.” 

you hummed, pretending to think for a little long time. gazing over your hand ghostly touching his knuckles, the little butterflies flew around inside his stomach. the fingertips of your hands running over his then the surface of the globe before he heard you utter out, “cyprus.” 

nodding to your next challenge, he made his way to look thoroughly around the ball. a chuckle left his lips, feeling as if he was starting to sweat despite the cold breeze of the air-conditioned room. “maybe i’m reconsidering your knowledge on geography, after all.” your voice softly echoed in his ears. he wasn’t going to give up so easily for some country he wasn’t familiar with. 

continuing to search, he whispered to you, “from what i remember, it’s close to romania, am i right?” 

“close.”

hendery droned out a steady continuous sound, staring at the map of europe in front of him. if it was close to what he stated earlier, and the name sounds close to some greek mythology name. “then i'm guessing it would be near greece, so…”

forefinger gliding through the map, he eventually found cyprus below turkey. another victorious win, he smiled at you. “there.”

“you’re not as bad as i thought.” your compliment had earned him another good slap in the heart, and it would always make him do somersaults every time you do. with the way you look at him like that, with that contagious smile and laughter, he could never stop feeling things for you.

“okay, my turn.” you said, “give me a name.”

“show me…” hendery trailed off, his body moving backwards to face your back. watching you turn around, you let out a small gasp as you were taken aback when he caged you in between his arms. “hendery, what are you doing?”

“show me where the map to my heart is.” his voice was serious, and yet there was still a glint of delight in his tone. the smile never wiped off from his face while he stared into your eyes. sure, it was abrupt and unexpected, but he wasn't being playful in a way that would annoy you, and his seriousness was giving a turn.

“i…” now you were the one who was tongue-tied, and him being the patient person he was, he waited for you to respond. it was simple, if you reject him at this time and moment, he would respect that and back off this instant.

"the question is just simple," without wiping the smug off his face, he let out a fake yawn that is not loud enough to disturb the other students in the library at the front. "show me where it is." with the way he carefully and audibly emphasized each word, you started to laugh in such a nervous state.

"a-are you joking right now?"

"huh, what's that?" he brought his hand to his ear, pretending to not hear you despite being a short distance away from you. that smile of his never dropped.

“sweetie if you're just gonna stand there and stare at me then i might as well win this challange—”

“i think i know where it is.” you quickly uttered out, breaking your silence. he was curious to know what was on your mind, and so he crossed his arms against his chest, lips curling up to put up a smug look.

“really? i'm curious to see if you actually know it.”

“well, if i can remember, it starts from here…”

he observed the way your finger reached out to point your own chest where your heart is at rest before making out a line until your palm was against his chest to his beating heart. hendery sucked up a good amount of air at the contact, his gaze still never left yours.

“...to here.”

©MEIIDERYZ 2024. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[mymoodwriting]

Request for @tenswife (Yandere WayV Maknaes) 4.1k, yandere, asylum patients, needles, drugs, restraints, manipulation, delusions, hallucinations, choking, bruising, kidnapping, loss of mental stability (@starillusion13)

“Stay away from the triplets.”

That wasn’t something you wanted to hear on your first day. All it did was make you aware of how dangerous this place was. That’s what you thought anyway, an asylum isn’t exactly a place for sane people, and this wasn’t making you feel better. Even with that in mind you were told it would be a good idea to get some help, professional help that is. The stress from work was really getting to you as of late, and it was becoming noticeable. You needed a break, and you needed to do better for yourself. A place like this had counselors, people who could understand your issues and help, so you figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to check yourself in for a few days.

You had taken the time off work, and your friends knew where you’d be so no one had to worry about you. Once you had signed all the paperwork and changed your clothes one of the nurses showed you around. Everyone here was getting help for different reasons, and some patients were more extreme than others, so depending on one’s condition, they’d be on a certain floor. Since you were there for simple counseling and stress relief remedies you’d be on the second floor. You’d have full access to the second floor, and what it offered, but would be unable to enter any other floor. Only the staff could get to multiple floors. 

Although there was a common area on the third floor where all types of patients could intermingle under supervision. It was meant to make sure no one, not even the more difficult cases, felt so isolated from the rest of the world. If you wanted to be there you needed a staff escort and would be assigned a supervisor. Visiting this place was part of the tour, and as you were looking around your gaze was drawn to something. There were three boys sitting together in a corner, drawing with crayons and giggling. They seemed to be childish despite being grown adults. The nurse realized what you were looking at and gave you a warning.

The triplets, as she called them, were nothing but trouble. They weren’t related to one another, and were admitted at different times. Of course the nurse couldn’t tell you what floor or what reasons they were admitted for, but they told you those three were dangerous. You were still curious, but such a warning in this place was something to take seriously. You just wanted to get better, so there was no reason to take an interest in other patients. For the first few days as you settled in you remained on your designated floor, even making a friend with your next door roommate. They had only been there for a week longer than you, but they knew quiet a lot.

“There are five floors in total.” Mina explained. “The first one as you know is the public one for people to get evaluated, or come visit their loved ones. Second floor, where we are, is for those of us who are sane and autonomous, and can help themselves with their own care. Third floor is where the common area is, as well as where the long term patients like us stay. Fourth floor is for those who are mentally unstable, and the fifth floor… that’s where they keep the psychos.”

“Noted.”

Since you were doing well, seeing a counselor and participating in stress relieving activities, you thought it would be alright to visit the common area and see what it had to offer. You went up with Mina, being reminded of the rules and regulations to follow while there. The two of you found some board games to play while also watching some TV. It all seemed peaceful and relaxed, but then you noticed the triplets in the corner again.

“Mina.”

“Hm?”

“The triplets… do you know what floor they’re from?”

“Fifth.”

“Wait, what? I thought the fifth floor was for psychos, and they’re allowed here?”

“Yeah. What’s crazier is that those three come from well-off families and the rumors are they harassed girls and shit. They all got admitted at different times but stuck together for some reason. They behave so they’re allowed here. Just ignore them.”

“Right…”

They didn’t draw attention to themselves so it was fairly easy to ignore the triplets and just focus on whatever you were doing. Although one day you caught one of the triplets staring at you. When you met his gaze you kind of froze, but what sent chills down your spine was the fact you couldn’t read his face at all. Maybe he was just zoning out, but either way you moved away once you broke eye contact. You thought that would be the end of things, but it was only the beginning.

Since many of the patients gathered in the common area, weekly and daily announcements were done there. You were sitting off to the side, mainly alone, when a boy slowly approached you. He was very shy, and had a bit of trouble making eye contact, but he was certainly trying. He seemed familiar to you, but you couldn’t quite place it. He was probably someone who was always around in the common area you just never really noticed them. You didn’t know his situation, and he didn’t seem like a bad person so you left him alone. That is until he managed to speak up.

“You’re really pretty… what’s a pretty girl like you doing here…”

The question was a bit surprising, but you figured there was no harm in answering.

“Things have gotten a bit difficult for me, and I need a break. Plus it’s important to look after my mental health, so I’m here.”

“So… what do you do when-”

“YangYang.”

One of the orderlies came over, grabbing the boy and pulling him away from you. The whole thing confused you until you saw where the boy was put. He was in the corner with two others and you realized he was one of the triplets. It sent chills down your spine and you told yourself to be more careful next time.

🖤

YangYang gave a nasty glare to the orderly when they pulled him away from you. He knew part of the rules for them being the common area was to keep to themselves, but one little conversation should have been allowed. He returned to his group with a pout.

“So, so!” Hendery cheered. “What’s she like?”

A smile appeared on YangYang’s face. “She’s nice, and so pretty up close.”

“We should have her.” Xiaojun said.

🖤

You tried not to let that interaction bother you too much, and continued about your day as normal. You’ve never really had any trouble with anything, but that night you woke up, having heard some weird sounds. You groggily looked around your room until you realized you weren’t alone. You were ready to scream but someone put their hand over your mouth. Two people held you down and then another crawled on top of you, it was YangYang. He smiled down at you, a hand caressing your cheek.

“You’re really pretty… can we finish our conversation from before? What do you do in your career?”

The hand over your mouth slowly moved away. There really was no point in screaming or struggling. They had gotten into your room somehow when it shouldn’t be possible. For your safety and the safety of the others there was a curfew to follow, and all patients were locked in their room. Yet somehow they had gotten in undetected. It made you incredibly nervous and fearful, but you still managed to answer.

“Just… just a corporate job… nothing special…”

“You don’t seem to like it, so why do you stay?”

“I.. it pays the bills… and it’s not a difficult job…”

“Then why are you here? You said you were looking after your health. If it’s not a bad job or a hard one, then what’s wrong?”

“What… what about you… I… I don’t…”

“Oh, yeah, we never properly introduced ourselves, did we?” YangYang chuckled, gesturing to himself then the others. “I’m YangYang, this is Hendery and that’s Xiaojun. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Very nice.” Xiaojun added.

“I… so then… what’s… why are you here…”

“Our families didn’t want us around, and this was the best way to make us disappear.”

“Oh…”

You felt a bit sad upon hearing that. Although while you were distracted with your own thoughts you didn’t notice them moving around until you felt a pinch on your neck.

“Sleep well.”

🖤

You woke up in the morning with a big of a headache, but you didn’t let it bother you too much. If anything you were more concerned over the weird dream you had last night. As you went to get breakfast you found Mina.

“Morning.”

“Hey, good morning.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Fine, why?”

“I thought I heard some noises last night, and I think I woke up but I’m not so sure.”

“Well, I didn’t hear anything. Slept through the night like a baby.”

“Right… do you know anything about the triplets? Besides what you’ve already told me.”

“Not really. They’re just a bunch of weirdos, there’s no reason to ask about them.”

“Yeah… you’re sure you didn’t hear anything?”

“No, why? Did you?”

“I mean… I’m sure I woke up cause I heard something.”

“Well, even if we’re locked in our rooms, the nurses and orderlies do still roam the halls. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“I guess… none of the patients can access other floors… can they?”

“No. Only staff have clearance. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a weird night that’s left me to question a lot.”

You ended up chalking it up to being a dream and going about your day as normal. You figured you would have weird dreams since you were in such a different place, so it shouldn’t be something to worry about. Except it happened again the next night. There was nothing in particular that woke you up but when you opened your eyes you saw the triplets in your room. YangYang was sitting at the foot of your bed, Hendery at your little desk and Xiaojun sitting on the floor doodling with some paper.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Xiaojun asked.

“I… uh… I haven’t dated in a while…”

“Can I be your boyfriend!?” Hendery asked.

“What, no, I’ll be her boyfriend.” Xiaojun countered. “I asked first.”

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“I’ll be her boyfriend.” YangYang added.

“No!”

The three argued among themselves for a moment before settling down. They were sharing glances and seemed to be communicating in silence, then they looked at you.

“Can we all be your boyfriends?” YangYang asked.

“Uh… I’m not really looking to be in a relationship right now.”

You weren’t sure what the response to that would be, but it was quite frightening. For a minute they were all quiet, and then they sprung to life. They pinned you down and started tearing at your clothes. Before you could scream a hand was over your mouth and then everything changed. You shot up in bed, panting and looking around in a panic. You were still in your room, but you were alone, and it was clearly daytime. Everything seemed to be fine, but your mind was still racing. 

You asked Mina about hearing any noises last night, but once again she heard nothing. You were still freaked out so you avoided the common area for a while. Although you found yourself having some trouble sleeping. You were scared to do so, and triple checked your room to make sure the door was locked and you were alone. You did eventually manage to fall asleep, but randomly woke up at night. You were relieved to find yourself alone, but horrified to see your door wide open.

Against your better judgment you got up and carefully stepped out of your room. You looked down the halls but no one seemed to be around. So you called for a nurse or orderly, wondering if anyone was there. You were about to go back to your room when you saw someone approaching, thinking it was a staff member, but when they got closer you realized you were wrong. Xiaojun skipped over to you with a big smile on your face.

“Hello, welcome, it’s so good to see you.”

“What… what happened… how…”

“Now you can be with us.”

“What?”

Xiaojun gestured to a sign on the wall and you felt your heart drop. According to the number on the wall you were on the fifth floor and not the second. Your first instinct was to run, to find someway out, but of course you were chased. The boy had caught up to you and trapped you in their arms. You screamed and struggled and then you were back in your room, morning sunlight peeking in. It had been another bad dream, and far worse than the last. You weren’t going to get any better if you couldn’t sleep so you spoke to your counselor and managed to get some sleeping pills prescribed. You managed to sleep well that night, but it was short lived.

The next night you woke up to see the door to your room wide open, although you couldn’t get up. You knew all the beds in the asylum had restraints on them, but you never expected yours to be used. You struggled and tried to break free, but there was no getting out of these restraints. Then you saw those three walk into your room. You immediately shut your eyes, telling yourself that this all had to be a dream. With the sleeping pills, weird dreams were probably a side effect.

“Are you having fun?” Hendery asked.

You tried to pay them no attention, wanting to wake up from this nightmare.

“This is just a dream… just a dream…”

“Aww that’s sad to hear, but we can change that.”

You felt another pinch at your neck, and your world melted to black. When you opened your eyes again you saw the morning light in your room, and you could move around freely. The nightmare stuck with you though, like there was this sense of paranoia following you. Everything was making you feel uneasy, and you were suspicious of everything. That led to a breakdown, or so you were told, since the orderlies had to restrain you and sedate you. Because of that incident you wound up getting moved to the fourth floor. It was the last thing you wanted, but you weren’t in control of your health here, at least not fully.

You wound up seeing another counselor from there. They asked about the breakdown and what caused it. You were nervous to admit the truth but were told that if you lied to yourself it wouldn’t help you get any better. You knew they were right so you told the truth about your dreams and how they left you feeling. You were afraid they weren’t just dreams and if they were you couldn’t understand why you were freaking out so bad.

“You’re in a new environment, and even though you know you are safe here there are still many unknowns. I understand the situation surrounding the triplets may be unnerving, but they are always under supervision, and not allowed on any other floors. They’ve shown good behavior that’s allowed them access to the common area but that is all, and that can be revoked at any moment.”

You figured you could be more at ease here after speaking with the counselor. The fourth floor was far more secure than the second, more so considering who was right above you. Besides, there was a lot more focus on you and your individual care so you certainly felt better about yourself in no time. The one-on-one counseling was also really good for you.

“I don’t really understand why I kept dreaming about them…”

“Well, they are real and restricted in their movements, which perhaps reminds you of your own situation. Despite being well off you are still living with struggles, and surely here you’ve found things more easier. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t feel like going home.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You are here to improve your health, and perhaps you haven’t been shown care in your actual life the way you have received it here. Which does bring up the question, is there something that hasn’t been going well in your life?”

“I… I was just working really hard… thinking I was gonna get a promotion… I failed on that end… so I guess I’m just feeling stuck… and I didn’t do much to help myself until I hit my breaking point…”

“Burnout needs more than two weeks of recovery. All this could be your own call for help.”

“I suppose that makes sense…”

You had a lot to think about, and a lot of time too. For the time being you weren’t allowed back in the common area. So you had a lot of time to yourself. You’d eat alone in your room, and found out that the people on this floor were just as friendly, if not more. Although at night you definitely heard noises. Staff roaming the halls and other patients having difficulty sleeping. At least this time you knew you weren’t just hearing things.

“Pretty girl…”

Except for the night you began to hear voices. You woke up and saw those boys again, but you told yourself it was just a dream.

“You’re not real.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m just imagining things… you’re all from the fifth floor… and dangerous…”

“If you say so, we can help you sleep better though.”

You felt the bed dip and opened your eyes to find YangYang on top of you. Before you could say anything his hands were around your throat, choking you out.

“You must be crazy and dumb to think we’re not real.” 

“We’re gonna drive you insane so you never leave this place.” Xiaojun added.

“Cause what we want, we get.” Hendery stated.

You couldn’t get YangYang off you, struggling underneath him until you passed out. When you woke in the morning you felt an ache around your throat. You got up and when you looked in the mirror you could see the bruises on your neck. You had no way of hiding the truth, so of course it was brought up in your daily session. You weren’t going to lie, the proof was obvious.

“Those triplets did this to me! They snuck into my room and YangYang choked me! They tried to kill me!” You were freaking out. “I’m not safe here. I need to leave. I know early release is allowed for my situation and-”

“It’s actually not.”

“Huh? When I came here the-”

“You need to go through a reevaluation given your change in situation. From there we-”

“I am not staying here! Those three have been messing with me since I arrived and-”

“Please calm down. You’re letting your emotions-”

“Look at my neck! You think I did this to myself?”

“That is still a possibility as-”

“Let me out!”

Of course the orderlies were called and you wound up being dragged back to your room and restrained. You wanted nothing more than to leave this place and now they were telling you that you couldn’t. You wouldn’t stop your screaming and wound up sedated, falling asleep for a while. When you woke up later you had calmed down, taking a moment to think of your next move. You called for an orderly, and they undid the restraints. Then you demanded your phone call. You could have used the phone whenever back on the second floor, but here you only got a call once a week. There were a list of people to talk to, but you could only think of one person.

“Hello?”

“Ten… I don’t know what happened but-”

“Who are you talking to?” You turned around to find Xiaojun. “The line is dead.”

“What?”

The sound of the dial tone slowly faded in, and your eyes went wide. You turned back to the phone, trying to dial the number again but there was nothing. You were starting to hyperventilate. You looked back for Xiaojun but he was nowhere to be found. Your vision was starting to blur and you collapsed to the ground. You couldn’t really tell what was real or what was fake anymore. You felt like you were losing your mind and eventually the darkness swallowed you up.

🖤

You slowly opened your eyes, and even if you were awake you could tell it was nightfall. As you sat up you saw that this wasn’t your room, but another place entirely. You weren’t sure if this facility had solitary confinement type rooms, but then again your door was wide open. You carefully got out of bed and walked towards the door. This was probably all just some dream. When you got out into the hall you found it eerily quiet, and rather dark.

“Hello! Is anyone there!”

Might not be a good idea to yell into the emptiness, but you couldn’t help it. Your eyes scanned your surroundings and then you realized where you were. This was the fifth floor. You immediately ran. You didn’t want to stay here and you had to find an exit. You really had no idea where you were going when suddenly you came upon a very peculiar scene.

“Good. You’re awake.”

The only common area you knew of was on the third floor, and yet this looked familiar. It was spacious and seemed to have a lot of activities, but what stood out was the emptiness and occupants. The triplets were playing video games, all kinds of junk food and snacks surrounding them. It was just them and no one else. Not a single staff member in sight.

“What… what’s going on…” They all laughed. “What’s happening…”

“You forget what we told you.” YangYang said. “What we want, we get.”

“But… I… I don’t…”

“Don’t get us wrong. We are legally locked up here.” Hendery commented. “Yet money is power. So we’ve made the most of this place.”

“It’s more like home.” Xiaojun added. “And we’ve wanted some company.”

“No… no this isn’t right…”

You took a step back, intending to run off and find an exit but YangYang quickly came over to you. He took your hand and dragged you over to where they were, forcing you to sit down. Next thing you knew Hendery was pressing a glass to your lips and tilting your head back, forcing you to drink this mystery liquid. It didn’t taste awful but you found yourself coughing and gasping for breath afterwards.

“What… what was that?”

You soon got an answer to your question as you began to feel a bit dizzy, your vision blurring and gradually fading in and out. Xiaojun came over to your side and had you lay down, letting you rest your head in his lap. He looked down on you with a smile, gently petting your head. Hendery also feeding you some snacks which you lazily ate. Although even in your dazed state you knew what was going on was wrong.

“I… I have to… leave…”

“You won’t be leaving anytime soon.” Hendery informed. “After all, you clearly had a mental breakdown.”

“And you were moved to the fifth floor.” YangYang stated. “No visits, no real records, you’re basically locked away in here with us.”

“Which isn’t bad at all.” Xiaojun explained. “We can do whatever we want here! Which means we can totally make you crazy on paper and in real life.”

The three laugh and you try to make a move to get up but get held in place, starting to find it difficult to move or even think.

“Things are better this way for all of us.” YangYang said. “It’s what we wanted. No more worries and responsibilities, and that goes for you too.”

“We’re free to just live our lives however we want.” Hendery added. “Doesn’t that sound great.”

“We’ll take good care of you.” Xiaojun reassured. “So just be happy, we got a great adventure ahead of us.”

You had certainly been drugged, and you had no idea if this was a dream or your reality. Either way you had to admit there was a sense of peace with losing your mind. Maybe you should figure out your situation and put yourself back together but for now you were content existing as is. You weren’t alone after all.

[finaleourconcert]

their profiles

sang rina - 26. sign language teacher and occasional photographer. deaf - severe hearing loss, hearing aids user. rina had liked to take pictures from a very young age. they loved to look at the world through the lens of the camera. why you may ask? no idea, but their father took notice of it and began buying disposable cameras for them to play with. and it worked, because what first started as a silly game became a hobby and –as rina had once thought– a possible future career. but when they were twelve years old, rina suffered from an inner ear infection that led to a sudden and permanent sensorineural hearing loss. deafness wasn't something unknown to the family, a long distance cousin of rina's father had been born deaf and he had been witness of how the woman had spent half her younger years isolated because of adults' negligence and he refused to let that happen again, so he took rina to sign language classes. from then on, rina's vision of their future started to change. sl became their form of expression, a new way to communicate that they felt more comfortable and free with so they made it their mission to teach it to others.

—♡—

wong kunhang 'hendery' - 25. drummer, leader and founding father of NeoWay. also known as wong hendery. since he was a little kid, hendery enjoyed two things: playing drums –one would think he was born with drumsticks under his arms– and making people laugh. he loved to see how a growing smile painted the faces of those around him, whether it was a relative, classmate, friend or even a stranger, and he did whatever it took to make it happen. it came natural to him because he deeply disliked seeing people sad or down. that bold personality of his helped him to make friends fast with another class clown from his grade named xiaojun, who later became his best friend. at some point in high school, hendery –out of impulse and without any serious intentions– formed a band with xiaojun, a guy from the music club named yangyang and his neighbor and friend johnny. to everyone's surprise, the band was a hit so they focused on playing and, years later, NeoWay was not just a dream job for him, but his second family.

—♡—

masterlist – next

[kyufiber-moved]

shampoo; hendery

member: hendery / wayv, nct

genre: friends to lovers, fluff, angst

word count: 2.4k

summary: the two of you have been inseparable since 8th grade, best friends and nothing more. then one tipsy kiss changes everything, and you aren’t sure whether you’re just friends who made a drunk mistake, or something more. 

(a/n: thank you to miss @markheehee who gave me the idea from when she sent in her hendery dream !!! also i’m trying out a new scenario post theme inspired by @000609 and @nctream i hope y’all don’t mind !!) / (spotify playlist)

He’s never been this close to you. Not like this. 

You close your eyes. Let your lips part—

He’s right there, you can feel it. You can smell his shampoo, the green-apple scented one he’s used for the past three years. 

It never made you feel like this before. 

And in a moment of pure bravery, you let a whisper escape your lips: “Kiss me.”

The bell finally rings, signaling the end of class, and you stretch in your seat. Hendery appears in front of your desk, an excited grin sprawled across his lips. 

“What?” you yawn. 

“Did you hear Johnny Seo is throwing a party this weekend?” he doesn’t attempt to conceal the excitement in his voice, and the boyishness of it makes you chuckle. 

“What’s with you and that kid?” 

“He’s cool! And he invited me— and you, by extension— to his party this weekend! Do you know how big that is?”

“You know I’m not that big of a—”

“You’re a big, fat liar.” he scoffs. “You spent the entirety of Spring Break some level of drunk.”

You scowl, gathering your things and standing up. “That was different. That’s Spring Break.”

“And this is the weekend!” he slings your bookbag over his other shoulder. “You said yourself you need a break from studying,”

As the two of you pass through the doorway out into the hallway, you sigh. “I did say that,”

“So you’ll come?”

“I guess. My mom’s working late, so she won’t notice if we crash at my place after.”

He flashes you another grin, slinging your arm through his. “C’mon, we’ve gotta get to the cafeteria before all the good food is gone.”

Sometime later, the two of you sit at a table in the far corner of the lunchroom, munching on cheeseburgers. 

Hendery’s got his eyes locked on the popular table, where Johnny and several other upperclassmen sit. 

“Can you let up on your obsession with Johnny for like, two seconds?” 

“I’m not staring at him, dumbass.”

“Then who? Ouuuu... A girl, perhaps?” you nudge him teasingly, and the sheepish expression on his face tells you you’re right. “Who is it?”

“Nobody,” he mumbles, lowering his eyes to his sandwich.

“Tell me!” you whine. “Am I your best friend or not? I won’t tell anyone!”

He turns a light shade of pink, pretending to be annoyed, but you see a small smile peeking through. “Jeon Soyeon,”

You gasp, your grin widening. “Jeon Soyeon? You’ve got to be kidding me— she’s too much woman for you to handle,” you shake your head dramatically, and he shoves you.

“She’s softer than she lets on,” he rolls his eyes.

“Oh, man. He’s in deep,” you narrate, chewing a bite of burger and eyes twinkling with mischief. “He’s whipped,”

“If you don’t stop, I’m leaving.”

“You won’t,”

“I will,”

“You’re too much of a pussy to eat alone.”

“I’ll go eat with Soyeon,”

At that, you burst out laughing. “Please! I’d love to see that.”

He turns away with a huff and angrily takes a bite of his burger, making you chuckle. 

“This is the wrong house,”

“It’s not! The GPS says this is it.”

“I’m telling you, Hendery. It’s wrong,”

“Maybe I put in the wrong address...?”

“Or maybe he gave you the wrong address on purpose.”

You turn to look at your best friend in the passenger seat with a deadpan expression. He returns your gaze, eyes wide. “He wouldn’t have, right?”

You sigh, resigned, and pat his shoulder. “You’re so much dumber than you look, honestly.”

He scoffs, swiping his phone open. “I’ll just check— oh.”

“What?” you glance over curiously. 

On his phone’s screen is his Instagram dashboard, and the first photo is a candid of Soyeon making out with Johnny. 

“Oh...” you trail off, pursing your lips. 

You grab the phone from his hand and click it off, slipping it in your back pocket. “She didn’t deserve you anyway, man. Come on, let’s go to the arcade and kick some Pac-Man ass, or something.”

A small chuckle escapes his lips as you start the car, and before long, the two of you are in the local arcade, slamming away at the game controls and yelling your hearts out in the middle of the night. 

An hour or so later, the two of you are too tired — and too broke — to continue, so you grab your things and head back out to his car. 

Just as he’s opening the passenger door, you smack him on the shoulder. 

“Ow! What?”

You point at one of the only building still lit up in the small strip of stores, and you shoot him a mischievous grin. 

The words “Liquor Store” shine in neon at the end of your finger. 

“You couldn’t go to the party and get drunk,” you offer. “This is fate.”

“This is a coincidence,”

“Stop being a pessimist, you know that’s my job in this friendship.” you retort and drag him towards the liquor store. 

“Wait, but I don’t have any money—”

“It’s fine, I brought my wallet.”

The two of you head inside, you pushing him as he protests. 

Once you’ve picked out what drinks you want, you approach the counter, and that’s when Hendery freezes.

“What? Why aren’t you moving?” you mutter, trying to nudge him forward, but he spins around in place. 

“Do you have your ID?”

You blink. “I left it at home,”

He purses his lips, eyes sheepish, and lowers his voice. “Mine’s gone.”

“What?”

“Should we go and get yours?” he asks, and you scoff. 

“That’s a twenty-minute drive away and a twenty-minute drive back. By then, this place’ll be closed.”

“So what are we supposed to do then?” he asks, voice rising a little. 

You lean in, a not-so-innocent grin winding across your lips. “Run for it, duh.”

“But—”

“Go! Go! Go!” you shriek, and dart out the door with bottles in hand. Hendery doesn’t think twice before following you at a sprint, and the two of you book it to his car, the clerk shouting after you the whole time. 

You hop in your seats, slam the doors shut, and speed off in mere seconds, shouting and screaming the whole way. 

Once you’ve made it a safe distance, you pull over and the laughter sets in. Soon, you can’t stop the incessant giggling and both your stomachs’ are aching. 

When you finally catch your breath, you suck in some air and glance sideways at your best friend. “My place?” 

He nods, giggles still escaping his lips. 

You take a sip of one of the beer cans Hendery got at the liquor store, hissing after it slides down your throat. 

There’s a redness to your cheeks that reveals this isn’t your first can. 

Setting your drink down on your side table, you slump against Hendery who’s sitting cross-legged in the middle of your bed. 

The clock on your bedside table reads 1:27 AM, and he yawns. 

He nudges you, muttering to get off, but you make a sound of protest and glom onto him even tighter. 

“Y/n~” he whines. “I’m tired,”

“Hendery~” you mimic him, “I love you~”

“You must be really drunk not to pretend you hate me,” he snickers, cheeks flushed from the alcohol. 

“I don’t pretend I hate you! I’m nice to you all the time!” you protest, sitting up and grabbing at his cheeks.

“Y/n, sto~p!” he groans, drawing out the last word. 

“Not until you admit I’m nice to you all the time!” you pout, hanging over him. 

He whines loudly, trying to shove you off, but you just jump into his lap for better access to pinch his cheeks and the both of you topple over onto your bed. 

You pout slightly at his suddenly serious expression as he stares up you. 

“Are you mad?” you ask, the room swirling a bit.

As you study his face, the thought occurs to you that you haven’t seen him drink all that much, and it takes quite a bit of alcohol to get him that drunk.

So why are his cheeks bright pink?

You glance down at your position, and you realize you’re straddling him— on your bed, no less.

Heat rushes to your face. You scramble off of him, darting to the edge of the bed and spouting stuttered apologies. 

The sound of him sitting up reaches your ears, but you don’t turn until you hear him quietly call your name.

Your eyes meet like they usually do, but something is different this time.

His gaze lingers on yours for a little too long, something deep behind his eyes exposed in the rawness of the moment.

What’s different?

The lighting is dim, but you’ve been together in the dead of night countless times before. It’s unusually quiet, but comfortable silences are nothing new for you two. You’re touching, skin against skin, but you’ve been best friends for years— you’ve made contact before.

Maybe the difference is the look in his eyes as they hold yours; the feeling in your chest as the silence sinks deeper and deeper.

A question lingers just behind your lips, but you’re too afraid to break the silence; afraid that this moment might shatter if you do.

His big brown eyes, so comforting in the past, now make your whole body itch with self-awareness. You start to worry about blemishes on your face and skin, and if your hair is falling just the right way, when he reaches out a hand.

His fingertips brush your cheek, catching a few stray strands of hair.

His lips part and his hand slips behind your neck.

As he shifts closer, your heart beats out of your chest so frantically you’re sure he must hear it. But his eyes never leave yours, and he’s only inches away.

He’s never been this close to you. Not like this.

You close your eyes. Let your lips part—

He’s right there, you can feel it. You can smell his shampoo, the one he’s used for the past three years.

It never made you feel like this before.

And in a moment of pure bravery, you let a whisper escape your lips: “Kiss me.”

He does, and you realize you’ve never wanted anything more than what’s happening at this very moment.

Your hands find his shoulders, and his fingers tangle in your hair. 

All you can hear is the pounding in your own chest and heavy breaths intermixing. 

Sometime later, you stare up at the dark ceiling of your bedroom, the blurriness of intoxication now gone.  

The room is empty. The only signs that someone else was here with you before is the faint aroma of someone else’s shampoo on your comforter and your puffy lips. 

You blink, still not sure you didn’t dream what just happened in this room. 

You don’t know when he left, or for how long you’ve been laying here in silence, but you remember the kiss in vivid detail as it replays over and over in your head. 

Letting out a shuddering sigh, you shut your eyes and try to drift off to sleep.

The next day, what happened the night before is still the one and only thought preoccupying your mind. So much so, you find it difficult to pay attention in class. 

Your mind is running at a million miles an hour. 

Are we still best friends or something more? Are we dating now? Did he mean that kiss, or was it just a drunken mistake? Was he kissing me because he was upset over Soyeon or because he likes me?

But most of all, what is he going to say when we see each other?

As you walk to your locker, you chew your lip in anxiety. He’s waiting for you there already. 

You both blink at each other in silence for a moment when he opens his mouth, and an avalanche of words tumbles out of your mouth. 

“What happened last night was a mistake,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “We were drunk, and you were upset over Soyeon, and things happen. I think it’d be better if we both just forgot about it.”

You shove your textbook into your locker and slam it shut, glancing at him after. 

He’s staring at the wall of lockers when he nods in agreement, and you stride off down the hallway without sparing him a second look.  

Later that day in class, a text pops up on your phone from Hendery.

from: mother hen 🐥 — 12:13 PM

yo you wanna get mcdonalds tonight ?? my annoying cousins are staying at my house this week and i need to get outta there

to: mother hen 🐥 — 12:13 PM

👌👌👌

You exchange a smile with Hendery, sliding into the passenger seat of his car that night. The lights from inside the stores shine out onto the pavement as you drive, the radio playing faintly. 

The two of you pull into the McDonald’s drive-thru and order much more than either of you can eat, chuckling at the disgusted faces of the McDonald’s employees. 

He finds a spot in the back of the corner of the parking lot and the car engine sputters off, sinking the car into silence. 

As you chew on some fries, he takes a sip of coke.

“I’m sorry,” he says without glancing over at you.

Your head swivels. “What?”

“Last night. I'm sorry,”

You’re silent for a moment.

“Are you upset?” he questions with an unreadable tone. 

“No,” you retort, looking out the side window. “I just don’t know how you can be so calm and unaffected. You may think it’s okay to just kiss people whenever you feel like it, but you have no idea how much that affects people. My first kiss is now forever going to be a mistake. Something that never meant to happen.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” he speaks up firmly. “Stop saying that.”

“What else am I supposed to call it? A drunken adventure?”

“I wasn’t drunk!” he bursts out. “I was completely sober. It wasn’t because I was drunk, and it wasn’t because I was upset over Soyeon. I don’t even like Soyeon!”

“Why then?”

“Why does anyone kiss anyone?” he shoots back. “It only counts as a mistake, huh? Fine then.” 

He leans across the console and kisses you firmly, leaving you stunned.

Just as he goes to pull away, your limbs move on their own and pull him back into you so you can kiss him back. 

In the back of your mind, it registers that he tastes like Coca-Cola. 

You don’t mind at all.

[lattaeyongs]

[9:21 PM] It’s only 9 PM while you and best friend!Hendery are almost completely wasted at a downtown bar, singing karaoke to “Don’t go breaking my heart” horribly off-key and messing up the words on occasion. While your friends record your exquisite performance, the look in Hendery’s eyes shows that he feels much more than friendship for you.

[woozten-x]

#. 𝘼𝙨 𝙃𝙮𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙨 | 𝙒𝙖𝙮𝙑 𝙋𝙩. 2

‹𝟹 gif(s) originally founded by xiaojvn (there is no silver hair xiaojun gif cropped the way i wanted, so here are the gifs for compensation: kyungsoosus) ; xiaojvn (hendery) ; yutaslaugh

[ ; M.List including other Neos! ]

─ Genre: Fluff/Wholesome Headcanons

─ Length: 14 bullet points (VERY) Descriptive! 

❒ a/n: There are two parts because there is a long list of bullet points and it’s incredibly descriptive! I finalized the decision of what type of hybrid they are by what they remind me of and based by their personality. So, the animals aren’t exactly the emojis they personally use or describe themselves as. Check out Part 1 for the other members! 

⊱ WayV as Hybrids Pt. 1 (ft. Kun, Ten, Winwin, Lucas)

!! Xiaojun - Wolf Hybrid.

Appearance: Dejun has a very pretty and elegant look to him, as his white hair compliments the pair of gray ears with blacks tips and fluffy black tipped gray tail; no matter what he says or does, his tail will always reveal his true emotions. He is one of the few hybrids, who has claws but it is more manageable than a feline’s

First Impression: Awkward yet easygoing and says “I wasn’t awkward!” every time you bring it up after befriending each other. In the beginning, he tried his best to relieve the tension between the two of you but he always laughed/chuckled in reply. To be honest, you may need to let him relax by doing stuff/chores together around the house to grow more comfortable/familiar 

Once the two of you bond with ‘breaking the ice’ activities, Dejun is definitely more dramatic than before and is similar to those dogs that seemingly barks at nothing; it isn’t annoying, however - it’s just him being way more expressive than before!

Love Language: Acts of Service and Words of Affirmation; Dejun may not be the best at cooking, but he is always trying to return the favor. Whether it be cooking small, simple meals or helping you with groceries or even cleaning - he is always there to help and stay by your side, as your personal aid. Another instance is him being emotionally available and supportive, as he is always lending an ear or giving words of encouragement whenever you are feeling negative. He is willing to show his support by saying “I am proud of you.” / “You did good today.”

Although, he tends to give his own words of praise towards you; he always gets shy whenever you praise him and he would roll his eyes while biting back a smile, but the wagging tail is a dead giveaway of his own giddiness

Due to his overdramatic nature, he can get paranoid with certain noises (especially after a horror movie) and he becomes hyper aware of his surroundings; you may need to calm him down sometimes whenever this occurs

He loves sleeping next to you and has a tendency of cuddling up beside you whenever nightfall occurs. He loves it when you stroke his head and it helps him fall asleep instantly

Dejun’s energy levels are incredibly balanced, he easily adapts to the vibe of his surroundings and he is usually busying himself with a book or video games; he doesn’t ask for much, unless it’s video games or books. But, his diet mainly consists of meat and he would never touch veggies/greens by itself unless it’s with a side of meat

As a wolf hybrid, his fur does get everywhere! Some furballs appear or loose fur comes off whenever you touch his tail - you may need to brush his tail to prevent such a thing, and he loves having his tail brushed. He also has a very sensitive nose and he is always pinching his nose or covering his nose whenever a smell is too bothersome; you may need purifiers or be mindful of certain aromas to prevent him from getting a headache

Furthermore, he does have a bit of an oral fixation; don’t be too alarmed when he starts chewing on toothpicks and he enjoys chewing on meatless bones - he may get embarrassed if you watch him or say something though

Dejun is not possessive but more on the protective side. He does not mind social gatherings, but he is always by your side and doesn’t seem to leave it to mingle with the crowd; he is always alert in public surroundings, and he is always ready to protect you if necessary!

Yes!: Brushing his tail (he would always bring the brush to you as a silent request) and scratching behind his ears, playing games with you (he doesn’t mind if you are bad at them), humming/singing you to sleep, resting his head against yours

No!: Any strong smells (please rethink about spraying perfume/cologne around him), yelling/screaming (hurts his poor ears), anyone (but you) touching his stuff (he’s a little territorial), messing up whenever he cooks something for you (he feels bad)

Bonus: Has asked for PC parts and you eventually do get him the parts to make his own gaming PC (he was so happy with a fast wagging tail and everything), playfully growling and baring his teeth whenever you tease him, him rambling about his interests whenever he gets excited, loves being little spoon because he feels protected (would never admit it though)

!! Hendery - Ferret Hybrid.

Appearance: With his prince-like appearance, he looked the most “normal” despite his little tanned ears peeking out from his dark brown hair. He has a long tail that has a lighter shade of his hair, but a bit darker than his ears - his tail would sometimes thump in excitement or wag to express his happiness; his round doe eyes almost resembles a ferret’s also!

First Impression: Upon arrival, he was very quiet and aloof. He wasn’t exactly awkward, but more on the quiet side where he preferred to listen to you than really lead the conversation; he is incredibly laid-back, and he is a hybrid who asked questions to get to know you better or to know certain boundaries - in a way, Hendery was very thoughtful with you and your home

Eventually, he does warm up and does show a more chaotic side which is a complete contrast from his “normal” first impression; he is still considerate, but he is definitely louder and more talkative. He is a very playful individual and quite goofy, he is always trying to make you laugh no matter how embarrassing it is for himself

Love Language: Words of Affirmation and Receiving/Giving Gifts; Your personal happy pill and hypeman! He is always giving you words of encouragement and he is always building you up, no matter how insecure you are. He loves to dance around and make a fool of himself, trying to lift up your spirits whenever you are stressed or down. For gifts, he is always expressive with his gratitude especially when you take care of him or give him a gift. Whenever the two of you are out shopping, he is the one pointing out certain things that remind him of you

Hendery likes to sing loudly and sometimes forgets that neighbors exist or you are busy concentrating with something important, he does apologize if you scold him but you can always hear him quietly singing/humming to himself after

He can’t cook and if you ever do give him a chance, he is always starting a fire despite the low heat; he usually helps with the little tasks or he simply watches you cook while talking your ear off or the two of you are sharing a comfortable silence

If you are talkative like him, Hendery is always listening to you! If you are a listener, he is always telling you everything and he seems confident to share his interests/passions with you; please don’t ever tell him to be quiet or say he is annoying

Surprisingly enough, Hendery’s levels are balanced; at times, he can get energetic but he is never the type to bother you or seek entertainment from you - he is considerate of your schedule and your personal space, after all! On some days, he can be seen dead asleep and you are always worried whether he is dead or not due to his heavy sleeping antics. Thankfully, he is not a picky eater either and tends to eat whatever you make/buy

As a ferret hybrid, he is naturally curious. He has an endless curiosity that gets him lost in public places or wandering around without a word; you may need to keep an eye on him or remind him to carry his phone. Hendery does return to you, but he always brings random stuff he found to show you and sometimes convince you to buy

He never minded whenever you touch his tail and ears, his face instantly brightens up whenever you do; it seems like he recognizes your touch and enjoys every second of it. His favorite skinship is belly rubs! He loves laying on his back and you simply caress his tummy and his tail is always wagging with a big smile plastered on his face

For social gatherings, he doesn’t mind them at all! At first, he is aloof and prefers to observe while standing close to you. But, he does like to talk about you whenever he is talking to someone and he tends to point you out in the crowd to show you off. He personally loves going out with you because it always entertains him, but he tends to hold onto your hand to avoid getting lost

Yes!: Playing games with you (he likes to tease you, but purposely loses for you sometimes), music (he loves to force you to dance with him), rambling about his favorite movies/shows/games, giving you back hugs

No!: Stepping on his tail, you being sad/down (it really affects him and he hates seeing you upset), ignoring him (makes him a bit sad/sulky)

Bonus: Hendery likes to punch the air whenever you are close to him like those weird little brothers, hops/dances around when excited, likes to re-enact horror scenes and pretends to be the monster/ghost chasing you, always peeks his head in your room to see what you are doing or to greet you

!! Yangyang - Fox Hybrid. 

Appearance: Yangyang possesses light brown hair and his ears are sharply pointing out from the strands in a blonde-like color, but the tips are colored black - his ears tend to twitch at the slightest of sounds. Of course, he has a bushy, fluffy tail that has shades of blonde with a black tip. He has a very cute appearance, especially with his cute yet sharp canines whenever he smiles

First Impression: When first meeting him to adopt him, he was playful and kind with his actions/words. But, when first arriving in his new home, he was more cautious and quiet due to the unfamiliarity of the environment; he isn’t exactly the most awkward person, but he was letting you lead the conversation for the most part. At times, he would point out a few things and ask you about it

It wasn’t too long whereas Yangyang is acting like himself when you first met him, and he definitely grew more comfortable in his new home. He is back to his playful self! Overtime, you learned that he was a mischievous individual and tends to prank you around the home

Love Language: Physical Touch and Acts of Services; similarly to most of the feline hybrids on this list, Yangyang does like the idea of showing you are his only. He is always placing a hand on your lower back, guiding you elsewhere if you seem lost in public - at times, he would stand a little close to you and is always letting your hands/shoulders brush against each other. Unexpectedly, Yangyang can be quite observant and if you need help, he is always lending a hand to lessen the burden. Of course, he throws a few teasing/playful comments but his actions always come from his kindness

A mischievous way of getting you to ask for help is purposely putting items on higher places or he would hide your stuff around the house, always acting innocent if you question him; he enjoys watching you look helpless and tends to adore the innocence of it

Yangyang is quick-witted with his words and pretends not to listen to you; his words never hold a deeper meaning or are never laced with malice, but simple sarcasm. He tries not to overdo it, if you tend to get upset - he does know his boundaries and he is not one to cross it for fun

If you are as sarcastic as he is, Yangyang loves to play a game of “Who gets the last word with you” with you and he is always laughing with whatever comebacks you have. If not, that’s okay! His comments are way lighter, and he tries not to sound like a smartass

Overall, Yangyang’s behavior does not make him higher in maintenance as he can be quite a logical problem-solver, and can communicate well in solving misunderstandings. Also, he is independent and he can handle things himself and doesn’t always need you taking care of him. However, he does get bored easily and he likes to be active explore/try new things

As a fox hybrid, Yangyang is another individual who has a sensitive nose and does get headaches easily from strong smells. Due to being a fox, he can run quite fast and if you ever race him - he will most likely win every time. Whenever he gets stressed or nervous, he likes to play with his tail as a habit - but, whenever he is asleep, he loves to hug his tail 

He loves skinship! Petting/stroking his head/ears/tail are always welcomed, and sometimes he would place your hand back whenever you pull away - he always says “What are you doing? I didn’t tell you to stop.”

Yangyang does not mind social gatherings or accompanying you on small trips, but he is the type to be clingy and seek attention, as he likes to let his presence known. He does get jealous after some time and starts to hug you - it does get a bit extreme when it’s another hybrid. He hates the idea of someone stealing you away

Yes!: Playing games (he loves to troll you, if you ever join him), you giving him attention, hearing stories about your personal experiences, trying new things with you

No!: Another hybrid’s scent on you/acting too comfortable with you, grabbing/yanking his tail (it hurts for him since its a sensitive body part), strong smells

Bonus: Using his cute antics to convince you to buy something or try something out with him (he loves to pin his ears back and let his tail wag slowly while gazing at you with big, doe eyes - how can you resist that?), tickling your nose with his tail to tease you, loves being the little spoon because he likes to rest his head on your chest, him randomly purring in your presence with a fast wagging tail

[sweetdejun]

café au lait //w.h.d.

tropes: blind date!au, drummer!hendery x barista!reader (fem.)

synopsis: your friend has been getting on your nerves about getting a boyfriend. but you would rather continue working as a barista, who occasionally gets to admire the drummer that plays with his band on Thursday nights.

word count: 2k YIKES

a/n: I love this trope mix lol, I hope you guys do too! p.s. unedited

"please, just meet the guy, y/n. he's a good person," yangyang began to reason with you, but you simply shake your head, gaze focused on the latte art ordered by a customer moments ago. "that's what you said last time, and do you remember what happened?" yangyang rolls his eyes; you didn't let him forget it. the last time you let yangyang set you up with a date, the guy took you to a bar where shortly after talking, he "went to the bathroom", only to walk to the other end of the room and ended up making out with someone else. that experience left a sour taste in your mouth, and it pushed you away from dating for a while. it was a blessing in disguise because you had more time to dedicate towards your school work and your part-time job, which you absolutely love. you work as a barista in a cafe hidden a few miles away from your college campus, which also happened to be a short walk away from your apartment. but that didn’t stop you from feeling lonely from time to time, and yangyang knew that.

you know yangyang just wants to look out for you, and he's probably sick of hearing you talk his ears off about the drummer from the band that plays at the cafe called 'wavy'. his name is hendery and you try keeping yourself busy with the customers that rush in Thursday nights to hear them play. still, your gaze can't help but follow his movements on stage, passionately headbanging with the music and his charisma radiating into the crowd. he was captivating and you couldn't find a better way to spend your Thursday nights.

"trust me, y/n, this one won't disappoint you. I have known him longer compared to the other guy and he's reliable and loyal." you bite your lip in thought. sure, you’ve had a bad experience once but you need to get your mind off of hendery, because you know you’re not planning on making a move anytime soon. hell, you don’t even think he knows who you are so you may as well give yangyang’s choice another shot. you groan and give yangyang a hesitant nod. “fine, I’ll go out with him, but I promise you, liu yangyang, if this guy is a jerk then I will come after you.” yangyang raises two fists of victory and clicks his tongue. “yes! thanks for trusting me, y/n, I won’t let you down.” later that evening you get a text from yangyang: he’s set up a reservation at some italian place that sounds familiar and has given you a time for 7:00 thursday night. your heart momentarily stops, because you’ll miss the band playing that night. you won’t get to see hendery this week. “let’s hope this stupid date is worth missing his performance,” you mumble to yourself, locking your screen and carrying on with the evening.

the time crept by so fast, you didn’t realize when you were standing in front of your mirror getting ready for the evening you’ve gradually grown to anticipate. you took the evening off and when your coworkers asked why and you told them that you had a blind date, half of them cheered you on and the other half guffawed because they know about your previous experience. still, you didn’t let the anxieties of that event get to you and you knew that if you tried to have fun you’d be giving yourself, yangyang and the guy a fair shot as well. so, here you are now, standing at the door of the restaurant and you can hear your heartbeat in your ears. you walk into the grandiose restaurant, and approach the front desk. “hello,” you start, “I have a reservation, under the name liu?” the man behind the counter looks down at his screen and he says, “oh, the other member of your party just checked in! let me lead you there, follow me, please!” your hands get clammier by the second but you tail the greeter as he leads you to your awaited date. just then, you feel your phone vibrate and you check and see it’s from a coworker. the text reads: “you lucked out tonight, wavy’s not playing” they’ve never skipped out on a performance before, you wonder. you put your phone in your bag and watch as the greeter comes to a stop. all you can see of your date is the mop of jet black hair, and his back which is facing you.

“here you are, ma’am. enjoy your dinner,” the greeter gives you a smile before leaving you to take a seat. the boy sitting turns around and your heart stops. “hi, I’m hendery.” he stands up and offers you his hand. “hello, I’m Y/N,” you manage to find your voice to say, gently placing your hand in his, in an effort to shake it. instead, hendery surprises you by bringing the back of your hand up to his mouth, placing a fragile peck on it. “it’s so nice to meet you, Y/N. here, come sit.” and he lets go of your hand to run over to the other side of the table to pull your chair out for you.

you both are given menus shortly after you exchange some small talk, and as you scan over the pasta options, you look up at hendery. you’ve gotta say, he cleans up really nicely, compared to the usual muscle tees and skinny jeans you’re used to seeing him in. his hair still holds the same middle part you’ve come to adore. then you think you’re being creepy, but you bite the bullet anyway when you say to him, “you play for wavy, right?” his gaze lifts up from the menu and goes straight to your eyes. you can see he’s surprised. “yes, I play the drums… how did you know?” your eyes widen comically and you shake your head, “I swear I’m not a stalker or anything, I just.. I’ve seen you play at the coffee shop I work at.” you’re rambling, and you tell yourself ‘shut up’ like it’s a mantra but hendery just stares back at you, thinking you are nothing short of adorable. “you’re the barista that works the late shifts when we play, then?” you sheepishly nod and he laughs. “I’ve been told by my bandmates that there’s a certain barista that ogles at me, is that you?” at this point, your mouth is hanging wide open and you scoff, “I do not ogle! and for your information, I am not the only barista that works the thursday night shift so it could very much be someone else.” hendery leans back in his chair and watches you, his expression softening. “that’s too bad then.”

over the course of the dinner, you learn that hendery actually went to school for acting, but then discovered his passion for music instead. he has three older sisters, his favorite color is pink, and since he’s moved to the city he has been homesick from time to time. of course, you’ve shared some stuff about yourself to him as well: you tell him that you love your job as a barista (throwing in a few funny and crazy customer stories here and there throughout the evening), you live in the city but drive out to visit your family who lives in a suburb nearby, and you have a favorite spot in a park that not a lot of people know about. “only special people get to see this place,” you tell him before taking a sip of your drink. “I hope I get to be one of those special people,” hendery says with a smile. a wave of courage hits you when you slyly respond, "maybe one day. now, I don't know about you, but I can go for a cup of coffee, so why don't we get out of here?"

hendery doesn't let you pay the bill ("you can get me coffee, y/n, but let me cover the meal") and you two take a short walk over to a nearby coffee shop. you are greeted with the sweet smell of coffee brewing as soon as the two of you step inside, and as much as people think you'd get sick of the smell, you haven't. "hi! what can I get you two today?" the barista greets the two of you, and you order a cafe au lait, while hendery scans the menu. "you know what, I'll have what she's having." after paying her, the barista leans in and whispers, "you two make a really cute couple, I had to let you know!" you bashfully smile and hendery replies to her, "it's our first date, but I think this one's a keeper," and he turns to send you a wink. you playfully nudge his arm and he laughs, leading the two of you to the pick-up counter. once your coffees are ready, you take them and start to embark on the long (but it feels short) walk back to your cars. the two of you chat for a bit, enjoying the weather but mostly relishing in each other's presence. as hendery sips on his coffee, you ask him with your chin in the palm of your hand, "how's the coffee by the way?"

"it's good! it's a cafe.."

"au lait," you finish and he nods. "it's good. I usually stick with an iced-americano because I never know what to expect with all these fancy-named drinks." you laugh, failing to observe the growing smile on hendery's face as he watches your nose scrunch cutely. "you can count on me to teach you coffee 101, as long as you would be willing to teach me how to play the drums," you tell him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. once you see your car in the vicinity, you slow the pace of your steps, and hendery follows your speed. there's a restlessness in the air because the night is almost over and it's apparent that neither of you wants it to end. hendery huffs after a moment of silence and turns to you, eyes boring into your own, and with determination, he asks, "I would like to see you again, y/n if that's okay with you? it's been so long since I've started dating again, and I genuinely enjoyed every minute of tonight. I want to get to know you more, y/n." you blink up at him, and heat creeps up your neck but you bite your lip and nod. "I would like that, hendery. I had a great time tonight as well." hendery lights up and as you unlock your car with one hand, he reaches for the other one. stunned, you turn to him and he pulls you into a warm embrace. his arms wrap around you and it feels nice. you return the action, bringing your arms up around his torso. it feels like it's only been a few seconds, but you get an annoying buzz in your back pocket (who you assume is yangyang) that startles you. you reluctantly let go of hendery, chuckling when you hear a small sound of displeasure from him.

"I've gotta go now, hendery. thank you for an amazing evening," you tell him and you sit in your car, and once you start your car, hendery jolts in his spot and knocks on your window. you roll it down, and he scratches the back of his head, "I forgot to ask for your number." you giggle, and give him the ten digits he's longed for all evening. "I've just sent you a text," he says and starts to walk backward, waving at you. "text me when you get home, y/n!" your heart warms at the gesture. "I will, hendery! drive safe!" you yell out as his silhouette gradually gets smaller. "you too! bye!" moments later, the two of you have gone your separate ways, and as soon as you get home you remind yourself to do two things: 1) text yangyang about the details of the evening (of course, you must not forget to thank him as well) and 2) text hendery that you've made it home safely, with a smile on your face and the rapid beating of your heart.