#yet here i am contemplating the amount of times two characters stand next to each other in a seven year old film

[thecatspirits]

I haven't currently got access to IT 2017 or IT Chapter Two. However, from what I've been able to analyse through short scenes on the internet, Richie and Eddie's queer coding (specifically in IT 2017 as that is what I'm looking at right now) is actually a lot deeper than I originally thought. Whether or not it was intended, it's there. Like, even the scene at the Quarry which I've heard people talk about contradicting Richie especially being gay has got subtle queer coding in it if you look deep enough. Or at least that's my interpretation of it all. I have always been an analyst at heart so I love to really get into the nitty gritty of it all.

[wincore]

act iii, incomplete | ten

pairing: ten x reader

summary: it’s the same vivid dream every time — you, a feline constellation that keeps smiling at you and a boy who won’t ever forgive you. autumn, spring and everything in between come to save part of that but the truth is this: no amount of time spent at your small town theatre with your once best friend is going to speak the words for you.

alternatively, 

best friends aren’t meant to be lovers and ten, despite the millions of roles he’s played, keeps trying for the one role he won’t ever get.

genre: childhood best friends to lovers, slight theatre au, reincarnation themes, fluff, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries, mentions of death

words: 23.9k

a/n: hello i’m so glad i actually completed this !!!!! i’ve never written something like this before !!! also longest fic let’s gooo ahaha special thank you to miss cat for reading this and making it at least infinity times better i am in indebted to u <3. playlist here.

part of the almost collab by @hyucksie !! (thank you for hosting this, it was lovely to be a part!!)

ACT I: HOMESICK

act i scene i. 

For the first time in years, you hold your breath at the local theatre, the walls more and more debilitated each year. It’s the only place, perhaps, that is so vibrant in its dull shades. The key is memories. Memories keep you alive in a way death and life and sickness cannot interfere. 

A single drum beat resounds through the theatre. A second one follows before a tune from a flute sets the mood. A voice speaks out, that of a woman, and it strikes you as somewhat sad. In that moment, you believe Ten would have pointed out to you that she is meant to do that, she is meant to play the part of someone sad. The curtains stare at you as undulating as a calm sea of red and you hold your breath. 

This is a modern play and you’ve only kept up with them for the sake of watching Ten play a part in them. As for other plays, high school Shakespeare was the most formidable text you’ve ever read and you’d rather not fight for your life again.

“Has the world ever seen a woman’s love unrivalled?”

A projector displays a flower, peonies, on the curtains.

“She once fell sick, dreaming of a lover; and once sick, she grew worse. Love is not love at its fullest if one is not willing to die for it.”

You don’t think that’s quite right. The curtains are drawn right then, their velvet sheen accentuated under the bright theatre lights and two characters appear on stage. 

Your first thought is that he’s grown far too much. The second is that he hasn’t changed much. Ten stands in the character of a play you haven’t finished reading yet, in clothes that accentuate his dancer’s figure and with the look of someone that isn’t him. You had tried to read  the play earlier but you might have gotten a little too excited to complete it. 

You bounce your legs in anticipation, the music and his voice fading out—it’s not like you can focus much with the high school kids giggling and making out in the seats right behind yours. You could always make a scene but it’s not like you to steal the spotlight away from your dearest friend. Besides, you need to reiterate through the list of things you have to help him catch up on since he’s been gone. Ten wouldn’t want to miss out on some spicy gossip. You chuckle to yourself, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool yourself. 

Ten likes overwhelming responses. You like to be overwhelming. You’re the perfect pair. 

The play ends in a way you can’t tell if it was a tragedy or a comedy. You could have if you paid more attention but this isn’t literature class. You can do whatever you want now and you’re a little preoccupied with your own thoughts. Ten. Your best friend is back from Broadway after a year of barely talking. You can’t wait to hear the stories.

You get up as soon as the lights are on but when no one else does, you sit back down. The curtains part now and the cast comes on for their final bow. You shift around to see if Ten is looking at you, the older people beside you grunting in annoyance and muttering something about the youth. He’s not but Sicheng is and when you send a wink his way, he shakes his head.

You pout at the lack of attention but it’s time to make your way backstage now. The crowd is exiting and you need to get there before Ten leaves. 

Once outside, you make a beeline to the back of the theatre building and mess up Sicheng’s hair as he leaves for home. 

“He’s inside,” he informs curtly and makes as much distance possible between the two of you.

“Oh, don’t be shy, Sicheng,” you coo to annoy him. “You performed so well. Not as good as Ten though.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “Were you even paying attention?”

You cross your arms and push him onto his track. He shrugs and you watch his figure disappear behind the corner before taking a deep breath. With anticipation, comes a little unrestrained droplet of anxiety. You shouldn’t be worried, you tell yourself. This is Ten, after all.

The crows sing a song to themselves under the purple evening sun and you feel annoyed at the sound. It’s a song for ghosts. You hate the sound of it. 

You rub your temples, trying to hush away the headache. You can’t wait to see Ten.

You swing the door open in an attempt to sneak up on him. However, you take a few moments to see him barefaced, the stage makeup washed off and a red undertone running through his nose and cheeks. That dark mop of hair sticks out every which way, and no attempt has been made to rectify it. It was once your job, actually. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as he stuff his belongings into a worn-out satchel bag. You gave it to him when you skipped prom night. You smile. 

“Ten!” you yell at the top of your lungs. You’ve missed him so much—an old greeting should warm him up. This town started feeling more like home once you heard the news Ten’s back.

He looks at you so cold that you stop dead in your tracks. You freeze up, the words suddenly collapsing into themselves like wilting flowers. You don’t recognize Ten all of a sudden. He wears a deep frown and empty eyes, something you cannot understand no matter what angle you look from. Everything’s changed now, hasn’t it? You truly understand what that means when you meet his eyes.

“Ten,” you repeat at a more respectable volume. “Hey. I… I missed—”

“Hey,” he responds a little too quickly. Eyes less sharp than usual, he averts his gaze. “I- I need to get home early.”

Ten grabs his bag and leaves the room, his shoulder brushing against yours. You stand there for a few extra moments, breaths shallow and quiet. When you regain the sound of your heartbeat, you leave the practice room, throat dry and a frustrated sigh on your lips. Consequences, every time it’s the consequences biting back.

The crows’ song goes unheard.

act i scene ii.

“So… you want me to get Ten to talk to you?” 

Sicheng looks at you in disbelief, the ice cream in his hand starting to melt. You’ve never met anyone who enjoys ice cream in mid-autumn as much as he does. Sore throats are foreign to him.

You nod, crossing your arms. “I don’t know why he’s avoiding me.”

Sicheng scoffs, choking on the ice cream and taking a few moments to regain his composure. 

“Thanks,” he says when you rub his back in pity. “But… you really don’t know why he’s avoiding you?”

You shake your head. It’s a lie. But the only thing you can think of is the summer he left, when he confessed his feelings and you rejected him after a few seconds of contemplation. You had good reason. You just can’t tell him that. You’re still young and there’s so much to look forward to.

"You obviously have feelings for him!"

"Yeah, anger! Why would he just ignore me like that? We've been friends for, uh…"

"Stop counting, you suck at math."

You punch his shoulder and his ice cream almost falls off. He looks at you with a glare so strong, you have to take a step back.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I thought we were like any other pair of best friends.”

Sicheng snorts. “Yeah, best friends in love with each other. Didn't you suggest getting married once?”

“As a joke,” you interject, feeling heat on your cheeks. “Actually, do you know how useful a marriage of convenience is? It's got convenience in the name. Think of all the tax benefits.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “The way you looked at each other wasn’t a joke—you know what? I’m not going to be the supporting act to your whole romance charade. You figure this out.”

You pout. “So you’re saying you won’t help?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. You won’t know if I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, groaning in exasperation. This was supposed to be a happy reunion and yet, you’re here moping to a theatre kid, hoping he helps you. You expected Ten to not take it well but right now, you wish you weren’t so blunt. You could have said it nicer.

You’re joking, right? Haha, nice one. Best friends don't fall in love.

Oh, this is all your fault. You knew him better than anyone else. You should’ve known the consequences too—you could scream right now. In your defense, you thought college made him lose a few brain cells. You still have to make it right. 

“Fine. Whatever you might do, better do it soon.”

Sicheng shrugs, turning back to his ice cream and browsing lazily through one of the magazines. He’s supposed to be watching the store—he gets paid for it but he couldn’t care less about this place. Sicheng is something of a theatrical actor too, traveling around and performing with his theatre group. He never cared for Broadway as much as Ten did.

However, you’re all here now. This autumn is going to be spent with your best friends no matter the cost. You smile as you think of the time you and Ten surprised Sicheng with a whole bag of ice cream and he cried although most of it ended up melting. Sicheng raises an eyebrow at your expression but doesn't question.

“There’s a reunion party by the woods,” he announces. “Next week. Saturday. You have to make up before that. You know they’re going to be brutal.”

You shudder. Your classmates certainly won’t let go of the idea of your relationship with Ten. Teasing aside, they’re going to be making either one of you uncomfortable. All your excitement drains itself. Your shoulders slump and you think that perhaps, asking for forgiveness would be a better out. You recover quickly though. This has to work out, Ten has to be your best friend again—what choice do you have? You missed him and you’re going to let him know.

//

The first attempt begins right in the evening. Sicheng texts Ten after his shift, asking him to get some snacks. Lucky for you, you work at the local snack store, also called the convenience store. There’s nowhere better to get snacks. There’s also nowhere else to get snacks.

You stand behind the counter, fiddling with the drawstrings of your hoodie while your eyes trail to the hands of the clock on the wall. Sicheng texted him half an hour ago. Ten might not be the most punctual but you know he listens to Sicheng, even if it’s reluctantly.

Your impatience gets the better of you and you leave the counter to peer out the glass door. Unfortunately, someone pushes open the door right then and you clutch your nose, eyes watering at the painful impact. 

Ten looks petrified for a moment before turning around and leaving. You furrow your eyebrows, tears brimming from the pain in your nose and mixing into the exasperation from getting so bluntly ignored. Come on, Ten. You curse on your way back to the lonely counter. There goes the only thing you were looking forward to this evening. Sicheng walks in a while later, a sour look on his face.

“He actually gave me a mouthful,” he mutters angrily. “Can you believe that? Me. Who’s listened to all his lovesick ramblings about y—theatre.” 

You slump onto the counter further, the bright orange background of the store more headache-inducing than optimistic. 

“God, this is so much more difficult than I expected.”

“What happened between the two of you anyway? I thought you promised to call him every day.”

“I tried, okay? He wouldn’t pick up.”

Sicheng raises an eyebrow. “Woah. Haven’t heard about that one.”

He places the single pack of Lays onto the counter. You get up to pull the chocolate ice cream from the cooler.

“Don’t bother. It’s so depressing getting shut out like this.”

Sicheng mutters something under his breath you don’t quite catch. It’s his complaining voice though, so you don’t question him. 

“He’s going to be at the Bridge tomorrow,” Sicheng notifies. “Something about getting fresh early morning air. Now, there’s no way you can run into him and call it coincidence. So don’t do that.”

You cross your arms. “So what do you suggest I do?”

“I mean, if you’re accompanying Mr. Yang to the dahlia fields for flower shop business… that’s a different story.”

Your eyes brighten and you sit up. “You’re a genius!”

“I’ve been telling you guys since—”

You hug him and he chokes, almost dropping the Lays pack. The door opens and you hurriedly wave at Yangyang, who’s here for the next shift before running out the door in a hurricane of bad decisions and good intentions.

“I hate being the middleman,” Sicheng mutters to Yangyang who offers him a pitiful look. The evening returns to its pink skies and you race your feelings to your destination.

//

“Mr. Yang,” you whine. “You don’t need a single dahlia? I’m offering to help.”

The older man scratches his spotless white beard and looks at you in confusion. “I gathered a whole cartload just three days ago. There’s no way I need more. You know this place—no one buys flowers anymore.”

“I’ll buy them! A whole cartload.”

“And where will you get the money, child?”

“Uh.”

Mr. Yang shakes his head at your immaturity. “If you’re so eager, get me some chrysanthemums from Mrs. Leong’s sh—”

“No. It has to be from the other side of the Bridge,” you interject. 

Mr. Yang is further perplexed but you’re glad he doesn’t ask further. Having to explain your love and friendship troubles to a senior citizen has never been an ideal situation. You make a face at the thought.

“Alright,” he says and takes a few moments to ponder. “You want an errand to run, right? Could you get me some sunflower seeds from Goodwin Park?”

“That far?”

He sighs. “Do you want to go or not?”

You nod reluctantly, checking your phone to see the time. It’s early as fuck and the only person you’d wake up this early for doesn’t even know you’re doing all this.

“It’s to feed the birds, isn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow. 

Mr Yang nods.

“You know, you don’t have to do all that to get Mrs. Leong to notice you.” You offer him a cheeky grin.

“I’m assuming it’s also a person you’re doing all of this for,” he hums in reply.  

You drop your grin and take the errand money, heat rising in your cheeks. Exiting quickly, you check the time again. Ten better not have left early.

Shortcuts are better when there’s someone with you, you decide. You have gained around five long scratches at five different places on your body trying to best the hill beside Maple Street in order to get to the Bridge faster. If Ten were here, he'd laugh at you for being so graceless. 

The Bridge is empty when you arrive and you sigh deeply. You’re not sure if you’re early or he’s late or you’re astronomically late. The grass is still a golden green in colour, for autumn never truly comes in when you’re expecting it. The little stream below the Bridge is almost dried up but the wooden structure stays. You remember Sicheng broke his leg once, trying to catch Ten’s family cat pawing at fish in the stream when it used to be fuller.

You greet Mr. Santello at his garden and buy the sunflower seeds. Your errand is complete but the rising agitation in your chest makes you kick a rock on the way back to the Bridge. This side of the town is bleak except for the garden and the only fun you’ve had here is when a beehive dropped on Yukhei’s head (he poked at it himself with no provocation from your side whatsoever). The scenery is much prettier with someone to appreciate it. You, on the other hand, cannot wait to leave this town. You walk back with certain memories playing in your head, the smell of nostalgia rising with the sun. You’ve always hated early mornings; but you did have fun in them when you had to wake up for school trips. You hold your breath, stopping right before the beginning of the Bridge.

Ten leans against the wooden rails of the Bridge, Starmill Bridge, with eyes gently closed and white earphones plugged in. You smile to yourself. When the sunlight draws across his cheeks, he seems brighter than golden skies and softer than late afternoon clouds. You see the boy from your childhood, messy unbrushed hair and his favourite grey sweater. He’s so full of colour. You wouldn’t mind staring at him for as long as you can.

You take a step and your hoodie catches onto a stray nail, making you stumble onto the wooden floor of the Bridge. You look at your scattered boxes of sunflower seeds with horror but not before finding Ten plucking out his earphone to look at you. He’s so pretty even in a daze.

“Hi?” you offer. “I was on an errand, promise. Not stalking you and trying to get you to talk to me or anything. Hah.”

Ten shakes his head at you and quietly stares for a few more moments.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” he answers finally. “Stop trying.”

You look at him with a flickering guilt though you’re not sure why. He sighs and walks toward you, frowning. He takes out the cloth of your hoodie stuck in the nail with tentative care. Gathering the boxes of sunflower seeds scattered on the floor, he glances at you once before getting up.

You grab his hand before he can walk away again. 

“Ten,” you say, your voice coming off more pitiful than you would like. 

He turns back at you with lips pursed and a sorrowful look in his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I need to work some things out.”

Ten leaves you hanging for a third time in your life and you pull yourself together enough to stand up. You can’t imagine—you don’t want to imagine how much longer this’ll go on. Ten used to be an amenable boy; it shouldn’t be taking this long.

Somewhere the wind comes tumbling in, whispering the words that everything has changed and everything is still changing.

//

The third and last attempt is outside his house. Ten’s mother is bound to notice you at some point, right? Considering you’re camping out like a homeless man from the nearby gas station, that is. You hope she’s out for grocery shopping and you can just pretend you were on your way home and ‘accidentally’ bumped into her. Being the kind soul she is, she’s going to invite you to dinner since it’s late already. And where else can you spend your time while she cooks but in Ten’s room? It’s perfect and there’s no way he can avoid this.

“(name)!” Ten’s sister yells in glee. 

“Tern!” You smile at her.

“Mom’s sending me for grocery shopping. Do you wanna come help?”

You want to go inside the house but patience is quite possibly a virtue. You haven’t tried it out yet. 

“Sure.” You grin. “I’ve got time to kill.”

So, you are aware that Ten’s sister tends to shoot off at the mouth with the right person but you somehow cannot get her to talk about Ten. Apart from his life in New York, that is, which you had hoped to hear from him. 

“So… how come you’re not in our house already? No offense, it’s just you and Ten… you know.” She looks at you with an inquisitive quirk of her eyebrow. 

Ten must be a really good actor. Not like you ever doubted him but for his sister to be so blissfully unaware, he must have put on quite the show. Either that, or he really has forgotten you. You try not to feed fire to that thought.

“Uh, you know, been busy with the snack shack. We’re redecorating. Mr. Kim is going to boil me alive if I slack off.”

She giggles at your expression. “I heard it from Yangyang. He said the redecorations are ugly though.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Ten let you talk to Yangyang? A boy?”

She crosses her arms with a disbelieving laugh. “He can’t tell me how to live. Besides, he doesn’t care.”

You laugh. “Right. You have no idea how overprotective he can actually be. Older brother instincts or whatever.”

She suppresses a laugh. “And you must be facing the boyfriend instincts.”

You stammer out a response but it doesn’t make any sense. It’s alright to get laughed at, you suppose, if Tern is in fits beside you.

The rest of the conversation is about things less important. It would be rude to not engage though so you talk with enthusiasm all the way back. Part of you sees Ten in his sister. How terrible of you to see someone else in a person right beside you.

“(name)!” 

Ten’s mother looks pleasantly surprised. 

“Good evening, ma’am!” You curtsy in an exaggerated manner, and she laughs, patting your arm. 

“How come it took you so long to visit? You hardly ever came over these few years, and I’m a little upset about that by the way, but I thought for sure, you’d be in the house the day Ten came back.”

You scratch the back of your head sheepishly. “You know. Work and stuff. Mr Kim is redecorating the store.”

She exhales in annoyance. “Is that man exploiting you children again?”

“I’m—uh… I’m an adult—”

“Hush,” she instructs, voice strict and you zip your mouth immediately. Never question a mother’s statement.

“Ten’s in his room, by the way. Should I call him?” she asks, after a minute of complaining about Mr. Kim, which you would have loved to join but there are other matters at hand. She has all the gossip in town and yet, she’s somehow blissfully unaware of the silence between her son and his best friend. Are you not as important? It makes you pout but you quickly neutralize your expression.

“Ten!” she shouts when you don’t respond, a little lost in your own thoughts.

“Uh—oh no, you don’t have to do that!” you say quickly. “I’ll just go to his room.”

You hurry up the stairs, just in time for Ten to open his bedroom door and jump back in fright.

“Oh my fucking god,” he mutters, like the soul has been kicked straight out of his body. In any other situation, you would’ve loved to give him a scare.

You walk into the bedroom and lock the door behind you. 

“Ten. We need to talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. You notice the change in his features—his hair has grown out, his face is more chiseled and he has an angry quirk to his brows. “I told you I need some space. You never know how to listen, fuck.”

His voice is a low whisper, in the short space between you. You don’t move from your spot, with your back against the wall and feet nervous. You shift from foot to foot and look him in the eye before looking away. You’ve never felt this way around him. You’ve never actually pissed him off this bad. You don’t know what to do.

“Just leave. God. I can’t believe you think you can just walk in!”

You frown at his words. “Ten. I just wanted to talk to you again. We’re friends—”

“How does it matter if we are? Everything’s changed. This whole place has changed. I’ve changed.” 

“But… that doesn’t mean we have to pretend we’re strangers—”

“Leave. Please.”

His voice is so low and odd that you don’t recognize it anymore. You sigh. You can’t convince him when he’s so defensive. You open the door to his bedroom to find Ten’s mom and sister in the hallway trying very hard to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping. You offer them a sad smile and thank his mother for the dinner before taking your leave. You feel too ridiculous to cry.

How do people put in all that effort in romantic comedies? You don't even know where to start. Maybe you should follow the King's advice from Alice in Wonderland. 

Begin at the beginning and go on until you come to the end; then stop.

No. No, you can't be thinking of ending scenes right now. There's a much bigger problem at hand. Saturday. You better brace yourself for the unpredictability of former prom queens and class presidents, and the predictability of this small town that never changes. 

act i scene iii.

High school reunion parties here aren’t exactly mawkish affairs. There’s alcohol, people who are meant to be adults but haven’t quite grown into it yet, the looming woods, and more alcohol. There's no room for sentimentalism when your former classmates, seniors and juniors—those who could be here, at least—are back together and it feels like nothing has changed at all. However, college-age boys always pose problems. 

“Look, if Johnny can do it, so can I,” Yukhei tells you. 

Johnny smacks his shoulder encouragingly, and a few of your friends giggle at the two lanky men, looking like they’ve discovered something priceless beside the campfire light.

“This beer tastes like crap,” you mutter before returning to a regular volume. “But go ahead and try chugging two bottles in under a minute if you want.”

Your backhanded statement backfires almost immediately because he does exactly as you said. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try not to peek at Ten, sitting beside Johnny and looking rather sleepy. It’s the bedhead, you think to yourself. It’s cute.

“Alright, who’s next?” Yukhei asks, voice booming enthusiastically. 

Yeri sighs beside you, tired from the late night and not so much from the alcohol. Speaking of which, the alcohol table is somehow still stocked and Sicheng stands beside it, looking sour from being forced into guard duty. 

“Tell him to pipe down,” Yeri mutters, pressing her forehead against your shoulder and you look at her apologetically. 

“(name) hasn’t answered anything yet!” Sooyoung pipes up and you shoot her a look she ignores. “Neither has Ten, by the way.”

A bunch of “ooh”s pass through the crowd of roughly twenty people, and you would bury your face in your hands were it not for that stubborn pride of yours. 

Truth or dare is quite possibly the worst game in the history of mankind. Ten looks somewhat flustered under the attention but he just sighs. 

“Get it over with.” He looks at Yukhei expectantly.

“Kiss (name)!”

Your heart drops and you glare at Yukhei. You should have expected it. There is no one more unimaginative than drunk boys. His cheeks are flushed when he grins at you, encouraging you with a thumbs up gesture. 

“He doesn’t have to do that.” You cross your arms. “Consent is important even in fun and games.”

The sentence is so didactic of you but you hope the seriousness in your voice makes him back off.

“But you guys are, like, in love with each other,” Yangyang blurts before covering mouth as if he said something scandalous.

A bunch of chuckles follow, though Johnny shows some concern towards Ten. You remember why you hate high school reunions now. Apart from the fact that almost everyone gets to tell their stories of big cities and big dreams they get to live in, everyone turns into a child again when at a reunion. Perhaps it’s the burst of memories or the vivid glow of old connections returning but you can’t stand childishness. Even if you’re the one to act like a child sometimes.

“I’m gonna go drink,” you say. “That’s the punishment, right? I’m not playing anymore.”

Yukhei groans. “Come on, (name). You wouldn’t be such a bore.”

“I would,” you snap and get up from your seat, Yeri muttering in annoyance before leaning onto Sooyoung’s shoulder.

Ten is glowing in the cheeks, you find when you look at him. He meets your eyes once and looks away, playing with his fingers. 

You pour yourself some beer into a cup and lift it up to show to Yukhei before striding off to a place farther than the warmth of people and the campfire. The giant log is a nice enough seat by the edge of the woods. It is cold and mossy though, and you hug yourself, sticking your hands into the pockets of your cardigan.

The sound of footsteps over dried leaves catch your attention and you look up. Ten takes a seat beside you in silence. You move the cup of beer so that it doesn’t spill from any sudden movement. It’s quiet for even longer, your pulse the only rhythm to follow.

"Ten." You smile, looking away from him and into the ceaseless stretch of woods. He hums in response, as though a habit yet to get rid of. It makes you bite down your lip to prevent the smile from turning into something sadder.

You miss him. You miss the years you spent with him. You're drawn into him, into something old, familiar and safe. 

No one can save you when you’re homesick. 

However, you do not give up easily. What is broken can be mended with enough love and care.

Ten sighs, taking the cup from you right before it touches your lips. "Don't drink that. You hate the taste and it makes you go crazy."

You pout, but can't really find something snarky enough to say. Not when he looks like that—with dry, still-red lips and tired, apologetic eyes.

“Your forehead is so oily,” you mutter.

Ten looks at you, furrowing his eyebrows. He proceeds to hesitantly wipe at his forehead with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before shaking himself out of it. Instead he just glares at you.

“It’s not oilier than your nose,” he shoots, annoyed. 

“At least my nose isn’t titan-sized.”

“My nose is perfect. Do you- do you know how many people fall in love with my perfect nose every day?”

You laugh, covering your face. His features soften and he returns his gaze to the comfort of the endless forest. It does have an end, at the fences by the railway tracks but in believing that something can be infinite, you find comfort. 

"New York treated you well. Too well. But then again, you were always a narcissist."

You smile smugly at him and he gives you an unamused look.

"I'm… I'm glad we're talking," you offer after a few moments of unacknowledged silence.

He tenses ever so slightly, running a hand through his already messy hair and looks at you. He looks away again as if in an internal debate.

“You rejected me, (name),” he says, exasperated. “How do I recover from that? Don’t answer. It was so embarrassing.”

You close your mouth. If only you could tell him the truth. You had to reject him or your sentimental boy would never leave for acting opportunities. He doesn’t have to know that. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly.

But the truth is, it’s too scary to think about. You’ve been refusing to look at your feelings for a long time now. It’s only a cliche; it doesn't happen in real life. You’re too good of friends to be in love. Isn’t that right? It certainly couldn't have been you to fall in love with Ten. There were a million other people to do that in your stead. You feel shy all of a sudden.

“That was pretty embarrassing,” you mumble, pressing down your smile and he rolls his eyes.

After a few moments in silence, a sigh escapes his lips. “I’ve had enough time for closure though. I can’t believe I actually said that. Oh, the over-sentimentalism. Yikes.”

He makes a disgusted face.

You giggle. “I can’t believe it either. You do look cute blushing, by the way. You find any lover in the big, scary city? Any rebound?” 

Ten rolls his eyes. “Too busy. And are you going to tease me forever about this thing?”

You laugh. “That’s the Ten I know. You’re always working. Sometimes you should have fun.” 

“I have plenty of fun. You’re the one that used to cry at birthday parties.”

“I was six years old and it was one time, holy shit.”

The two of you break into laughter. The cold makes you draw nearer to him.

“Hey, wanna go to the mall this weekend?” you suggest.

“Wait, it’s still there? Wasn’t it supposed to get knocked down?”

“Yeah but the townsfolk didn’t want that so they delayed it. There’s, like, barely any employees though. It’s like a ghost mansion at night.”

Ten makes a face. “The afternoons there were so bright, like, there was so much sunlight, remember? I remember you always drinking my banana milk at the food plaza.”

You laugh. “I miss skipping class to go there. Now there aren’t any classes to skip.”

“Oh my god, remember when Mr. Wilson actually caught us?”

You laugh louder. “We had to pretend we weren’t his students. Which was futile acting because he knows every student.” 

Ten sighs. 

“I missed you. God, I’m so fucking sorry—I was in over my head. I thought I ruined everything.”

“Hey.” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I missed you too. Besides, it’s not you if you’re not being a bit of a drama queen.”

Ten elbows you in the side at the comment and you yelp, moving away and glaring at him in response. 

“Just because I’m in theatre doesn’t mean I’m a drama queen.” He mocks the tone of your voice and you giggle.

“So any special Broadway stories you have in mind? I wanna hear something funny.” You rest your head on his shoulder comfortably.

"Well, one time this actress' dress caught on fire—"

"That's not funny, that's horrifying."

Ten purses his lips. “Okay. Uh… I got told to fuck off by an eighty year old man in drag after I threw raw steak at his window?”

You snort, eyes widening and Ten throws up his hands in exasperation. "How is that remotely funny?"

"I'm pretty sure that's as funny as it gets with you."

"I can't believe you're pretending I didn't carry our sense of humour on my back for all of middle school and high school."

“I missed you," you say quietly, and he flusters, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Really? You're not just saying that?"

You sigh, inching closer. "Yes. I did miss you, you know? I called."

"And I didn't pick up. I know. I'm sorry."

"I think you've apologized to me more times now than you have in our first twenty years of friendship."

Ten rolls his eyes. "And I mean it. It's not the 'sorry I ate your cookies' apology."

"I fucking knew you were the one eating stuff from my bag back in high school."

Ten presses his lips, making a zipping motion and you push him in exasperation. The two of you laugh, loud and clear, before Johnny's voice comes in, telling the two of you to "stop fooling around near the woods" and that it's "unhygienic".

Seasons change but people don't. You walk home with Ten for the first time in a year and suddenly, you’re in love with the idea that things can just lie in complete peace once they fall back into what was always meant to be. Perhaps it’s the writer’s utopia, but you think it’s much more meaningful this way. Ten's hoodie smells just like home.

prologue.

It was a sunlit morning when you first met Ten, but it was only a sunlit morning. There were no birds chirping or faceless adults on that sidewalk or even your friends because you don’t recall them. You recall a child with two very important teeth missing and your sudden urge to run to his side. You’d pulled his cheek with a huge grin on your face because, and you still stand by this, they were too cute and plump and red to resist.

You were three and a half years old when you met Ten and you parted when you were twenty. One year later, you're back to linking arms, joking about each other and talking about life as though it's a passing stream. 

You were six years old when you cried at Ten's birthday party because no one was talking to him. It gave you an evening's worth of attention and a huge smile on Ten's face. You still think kids are mean as hell but they care for things like they have never cared before. 

You were eleven years old when you started to lose a little bit of touch with yourself. You talked less, you looked at people more. Ten's face was still the most comforting out of all. He said he liked to listen no matter how annoying you sound. Somehow, by the time sixth grade was over, when you were almost twelve—you talked at least twice as much. 

You were fourteen years old when you dated a boy out of curiosity and left on an awkward note when he moved away. You weren't sad for some reason. The idea of life passing meaninglessly by was engraved into you, like the waves that carve the beach. Ten was distant the whole time, with a scowl and more sarcastic remarks than usual, only warming up when you showed up at his door with a homemade cake. It tasted horrible and had the texture of a mossy pebble but you laughed over it anyway. Suddenly, life wasn't meandering but a river full of vigor in spring, beside a garden of fresh crested irises. 

You were sixteen when you were pushed to audition in a play by your best friend. The play was about life and death and love, and it didn’t make sense to you the way it did to him. You had good fun backstage with the costumes and the makeup, and it was all that mattered to you. However, some part of you didn't like it, hated it even when he kissed the female lead of the play with eyes full of adoration. You looked on as Villager B and you hated every part of it.

When you were eighteen turning nineteen, you decided to save up for college. It would take time—years perhaps but you would get there. You would get an apartment with Ten in New York City or any city full of bustling, busy life and you would tend to your rooftop garden. Small town dreams, however, die and they die and they’re buried in unloved, unplanted soil. 

You finally understood what your tenth grade English teacher meant when she said everything is theatre. 

The night he left, you had a nightmare. It was a play and you were the protagonist. You couldn’t make it in time for the night of the performance, anxious and afraid as you arrived. You’d been replaced. You hated to see him on stage with someone else. You hated it. You hated it. You hated it so much. 

Of course, you knew it would be a showstopper the moment that fight broke out between you and your replacement. You were cruel in that dream—almost as if you were someone else. But you felt comfortable in that skin, like you were meant to play that part after all. As if you were the villain all along and not the sweetheart of the show. You felt comfortable and it scared you so much that you woke in cold sweat and cried for an hour straight.

It hurt how lonely you felt. It hurt without Ten and you hate that you let him go. Something took shape inside the cavity of your chest, the shape of a weed sprouting in the pulsing garden of life—you won’t make the same mistake again. You’re going to hold on with all your might, till your hands ache and till your heart has had enough. 

ACT II: YOUTH 

 act ii scene i.

“Have you ever actually shoplifted in your life?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ten tries to suppress his smile and fails, moving so that his back covers you from view instead. A conversation about New York subways led to a conversation about anarchy which led to… this. You’ve been trying to swipe the butterfly pin from the display for the past half an hour. You weren’t actually going to steal it—you just need to prove you can.

The mall is always eerily empty. It shouldn’t be this big of a hassle. Ah yes, apart from the fact that the souvenir shop has stationed the most number of employees for some goddamn reason. You’re not even sure why it’s there; a souvenir shop for your town might as well be a forgotten relic.

“What? No,” he says quickly. “I’m not doing that. Causing trouble is your thing.”

You snort. “Right. Because everything we got into trouble for was done completely by me.”

“That’s actually true.”

You elbow him, giving him your most offended look.

“You can’t be serious about never causing trouble. You broke Mrs. Leung’s famous ruler, remember? And you always stole your mom’s Halloween cupcakes. Those were for all of the theatre crew, by the way.”

“That doesn’t sound right, darling.”

When you look up at him with eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, you find him smiling in somewhat tranquil thought. It has been rather long. 

“Yeah, I helped you way too much,” you respond, distastefully. 

The two of you straighten at the cashier’s call. Responding that everything’s fine, Ten turns to you with a pointed look.

“If you’re going to do it, better do it before she gets suspicious.”

The hint in his eyes reminds you that he is indeed the devil you know, and you quickly pocket the little butterfly hairpin. This is not ethical in any way and even so, you feel the childish exhilaration. This is to prove a point to your dear friend.

“See?” you whisper to him, exiting the shop. “I could totally pull this off.”

“Not if I start screaming ‘thief!’”

“Did you ever get to play a villain at Broadway? It’s closest to your personality,” you jab.

He sends you a sardonic smile before sticking his tongue out. You should always beware a childish man and his childish smile. You never know if he’ll take you seriously. Ten is the absolute worst and you love him all the more for it.

“Are you actually not gonna pay for it?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“And let all those proceeds go to our corrupt overlord mayor? Nuh-uh.”

Ten laughs. “We should go vandalize his campaign posters again.”

The mayor has had, you don’t know how many, little scandals accusing him of embezzlement and every time, he’s escaped easy as pie. All the things you can do with money and you decide to hoard more money; you will never understand people like him. Besides, you won’t have to worry about that any time soon.

“See? You’re the troublemaker. I can’t even vandalize good enough.”

“It’s not my fault you have zero artistic talent.”

You place your hands on your hips. “I’m sorry? I’m pretty sure I taught you how to paint.”

Ten rolls his eyes, a sneaky smile on his lips. “Yeah. You taught the whole class how to paint when you smacked Mr. Cheng with that paintbrush.”

You can’t help the laugh that comes to you, despite trying your best to hold a serious expression.

“You’re a disaster,” he adds, staring incredulously at your fit of laughter. 

You look at him and start laughing again.

“Oh my god, what’s so funny? I wasn’t even trying to be funny.”

“Okay, emo boy,” you say, finally straightening and messing his hair.

“I was going to get a haircut.”

“Don’t. You look pretty.”

Ten hums, raising an eyebrow. “But I wanna look hot.”

“That’s going to take a lot of effort.”

Ten grabs you in a chokehold, messing your hair with his hands in the most obnoxious way possible. Finally able to loosen his grip on you, you look at him with your most fearsome glare. He has to stop treating you so gracelessly.

It’s not unusual for him to behave this way; in fact, you welcome it when he’s warm and much lovelier than the usual. But something feels amiss, something dangerous like the passage of time. 

“Ten?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you’d be talking much more about New York instead of our boring old town.”

He hums, eyes scanning the vicinity of the mall’s first floor. There’s an ice cream shop opposite to the souvenir shop, unvisited due its lack of variety in flavours, and a spacious marble floor with most of the shops closed for renovation. The other two floors are closed off completely but you’re sure that with enough effort, you could sneak in. The glass ceiling at the centre allows for sunlight to wash in as gentle waves, settling on your heads like golden crowns. There are little potted plants lining the walls to make the mall space look less dilapidated but it gives off the same effect as that of something abandoned, left alone and waiting. 

“You want me to brag about it?” He addresses you with a slightly cocky grin.

You roll your eyes. “Never mind.”

The mayor wanted to turn this place into some sort of religious campus but you detest the idea of that man getting his way. He’s the very same man to reprimand little girls for their outfits and to say “dancing is not manly” so you do owe his nauseating sexism for your distaste for him. That, and he has absolutely no sense of aesthetics. You would die before you let him remove the gardens or the livelier buildings blessed with the only colours you can bear to look at. 

“Hey, (name)?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Angry Cashier is making her way towards you.”

You snap your head to the souvenir shop and the cashier is indeed eyeing you suspiciously. You reach to pat your pocket but you’re stopped by Ten.

“You are, by far, the stupidest thief I’ve ever known.”

You puff your cheeks in annoyance, crossing your arms instead. Just when you think the cashier is going to call you out, the two of you sprint over to the mall exit with a plausible enough speed.

“We didn’t have to run, you know?” Ten complains as soon as you’re out and a street or two away. 

“What’s the fun in committing a crime if we don’t get to run?”

“I don’t know, it could be a brain exercise—oh wait. You don’t have one.”

You stick your tongue out at him, walking faster to get away from him.

“Hey!”

He jogs up to you, eyebrows furrowed and ready to spit some sass at you, no doubt.

“I thought you’d be more athletic. Dancing and all.”

“Yeah, no.”

You fix the hair in front of his eyes as he leans over on his knees, a look in his eyes as though caught off guard. They’re a lovely shade of honey, his eyes. They look at you with emotions you can't quite fathom and with the innocence of a love borne between friends who have been forced to endure the mediocrity of this town together. It’s a good reason, you believe, to be friends. Friends are meant to help each other, to save each other and to be there at the lowest. You can check all the boxes. It might have been a while but you’re friends and friends that grow up together stay together. The idea is naive but you cannot possibly look into a future without Ten. There must be a reason behind everything that is given to you. Even right now, as the silence starts to nip at you, you believe you were meant to make full circle. Fate is a funny thing and you wouldn’t believe in it ever, even for a surprise twenty dollar bill vending machine miracle, but it’s comforting enough to let settle on the two of you. 

The lead actors go hand in hand.

“Are you going to keep staring at me? I know I’m tragically beautiful—”

“No, you’re beautifully tragic. Your face, that is.”

“I stopped listening after beautiful, so I believe you agreed with me there.”

You roll your eyes. 

“You and your unyielding confidence can go fuck itself. I’ve seen you cry over a cat movie.”

Ten sputters out a response. “But- but Garfield saved that dog despite every fiber of his being telling him not to. He could’ve lived a happy, peaceful life but he saved him. How is that not incredibly touching?”

“You’re weird. Garfield’s cute though.”

“Like me.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What are we, twelve?”

“I was having my rebellious punk phase then, so no. I would never have said that when I was twelve.”

You laugh. “God, you looked so funny back then.”

“I thought we agreed to not bring up stuff from our teenage years.”

You press your lips together in an attempt to stop the laugh but a tiny giggle comes out anyway. The sun is going to set in an hour. You better make use of your time.

“Ready to go vandalize some posters?” you ask, grinning.

“You know what? I have a better idea. We should go pick some flowers.”

You blink at him. “That’s not remotely punk or rebellious.”

“Shh. You like picking flowers. Remember how we used to joke you should be hired at weddings instead of the flower girls?”

You make a face. “Why on earth would I fling flowers in the air at weddings? That’s not even a respectable job.”

“It suits you.”

“We should be kinder to our arboreal friends.” You cross your arms. “I’d rather tend to a garden than pick flowers for stupid occasions.”

“Tree-hugger.”

You pull up your middle finger and he laughs, fixing his hair right back into the messy waves.

“Why do you hate weddings?” he asks all of a sudden.

“Oh, you know. Icky stuff.”

“No one’s having sex at the wedding.”

“That’s not what I meant by icky stuff. It’s that gross feeling in the air. What’s it called?”

“Love?”

“Please, there’s hardly any love at weddings. It’s all pretend.”

Ten rolls his eyes, chuckling. “You think all the brides and bridegrooms in the world are pretending at their own weddings?”

“If you say it like that…” You grumble. “I don’t believe you need to celebrate love, that’s all. It’s always there, you know?”

You look up to see Ten pressing his fist to his mouth to keep himself from laughing and scoff in disbelief.

“What’s so funny? Seriously, stop laughing—oh for fuck’s sake.”

Soon enough, Ten is crouching by the sidewalk in a fit of laughter which causes a hot flush rising over your neck. You weren’t trying to be cheesy. Now, your best friend is hellbent on making you feel embarrassed. 

“It wasn’t that cringe. Come on. Get up, asshole.”

“You were- you were just so—” He takes a moment to catch his breath, a few short laughs erupting from him nonetheless. “You looked so serious when you said that.”

Your face is hot enough for you to look away now. “Whatever,” you mumble.

“It was cute. You looked really cute,” he continues, somewhat sobered up. “And brave. You always say things with so much confidence that it’s brave. I’m glad you are the way you are.”

You look at him, slightly dazed before your cheeks puff up to prevent yourself from laughing.

“I regret saying that. You are the big, hideous regret of my life.”

“I thought I was cute?” Your snickers turn into laughter again.

“Fuck off.”

“Thanks, Ten. You’re really good to me.”

Ten shakes his head before walking away, leaving you to call after him in phrases of ‘wait up!’ and ‘when did you get so fast?’ as you try to catch up. You sometimes wonder if he likes being chased. You reach the busiest crossing in this town, with about four cars waiting at the stop sign. You’re not sure why anyone follows the traffic rules if there isn’t even any traffic.

Looking up, you gasp at the moon peeking over a still young sky. You're suddenly reminded of those afternoon naps you had in Ten’s room, the both of you fascinated by the idea of waking up and seeing the sky a whole different colour. The idea that time changes everything was still fresh in your minds then, the impact gentle if not loving. It’s quite late you found that time can steal just as much as it gives.

“Remember when we dyed your hair red?”

“I will, and I shit you not, physically assault you for saying anything about that.”

You laugh at the memory of his awkward hairdo. “No, the other time. When we were seventeen.”

“Oh yeah, I received like eight love letters for that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He did look pretty, and just in time for Valentine’s day’s theme of red roses and nauseating pink hearts.

“I have proof.” Ten leans his elbow against the street lamp, missing it completely and stumbling backwards till he regains his balance. He gives you an impish smile, running a hand through his hair and breathing out. 

You roll your eyes, ignoring his words. “I think we never took pictures of that.”

“So… what are you suggesting?”

“One good picture,” you answer, pulling out your phone and taking a picture of him off guard. Looking at it, you pout. It’s so unfair that he gets to look nice even in a hazy evening picture. 

Ten rolls his eyes, snatching your phone. “Let me show you how to take good pictures. Not whatever crap you have going on.”

You cross your arms, huffing but agree nonetheless when he forces you to pose by the street light. He blabbers on something about composition and colours that goes straight over your head but you can’t deny that the picture came out ridiculously well. You might have to change all your socials with a new profile picture.

“See? You can thank me with a kiss,” he says, a cheeky smile across his face.

You press your lips to his cheek in a swift motion, a smack sound resounding from it. It was uncalled for, you think, because Ten freezes for a few seconds in an uncharacteristic manner. He shakes his head, a scream dying in his throat before turning to you with the most scandalized look.

“Oh my god, what did you do that for?” he says, rubbing at his cheek in a teasing manner.

You wrap your arms around him, furthering his protests although he ends up smiling wide. “You asked for it, honey.”

“Nicknames are my thing. Stop trying to copy me, it’s embarrassing.”

"Okay, now let's take a picture together," you suggest pulling him closer.

He clicks his tongue and takes the phone from you, and when his hand rests upon the small of your back, you try to freeze up. His face is near yours, not unlike the usual but you feel your heartbeat hike up. It's a strange feeling.

"Now, can we go home?" Ten asks, handing you your phone. "I can't believe your background is rilakkuma."

"I'll change it," you respond, voice strangely quiet. You're only half smiling but Ten's smile is full and bright, eyes honey-pure. "To us."

Ten hums in satisfaction and offers his hand like a gentleman from another century, something you tend to exaggerate and you take it with a laugh. The two of you walk with entangled arms and playful skips over the pavement, getting the same old looks from passersby as you did as children and teenagers. The traffic lights glow a gentle hue below the mature blue evening sky, fading easily. You realize as gently as waves lapping at the shore that you missed Ten so bad it still hurts in the hole he left. 

act ii scene ii.

Any weekend in a boring little town of flowers starts with the news of parties. It used to be Johnny sending invites but now it’s mostly just Yukhei calling people for impromptu college parties. Now, you are aware that college parties are horrendous in every shape and form; you are also aware that the two hour car ride to the city college isn’t safe. But it’s easy to ignore hackneyed advice to stay away from parties and alcohol and weed when you’re young and have a ridiculously large group of friends.

The drive isn’t the worst part. At least the drive to the party isn’t; the drive back is usually too hazed to be memorable. Sicheng’s driving this time and with a lot of grumbling but he gets enough pitiful pats to the back and cheek to stop it. Ten has his feet up on the dashboard, having called shotgun before you by one fucking second. You’re stuck with Sooyoung and Johnny in the backseat, sandwiched uncomfortably at that, but you lean forward enough to nag Ten the whole time.

“(name),” Sooyoung calls in a sing-song voice. “Your overly affectionate looks for Ten are showing and it’s not even eleven yet.”

You furrow your eyebrows, stammering out a response and regretting it immediately. “You’re- You’ve been teasing me about this forever.”

“No, she’s right,” Johnny joins in. “Come on, there isn’t even alcohol involved. Yet.”

You roll your eyes, shrinking into yourself as the two of them laugh on either side of you. Sicheng says something along the lines of ‘nauseating’ and ‘idiotic’ but he gets an elbow jab from Ten.

“I’m driving,” he hisses.

“Into every sidewalk we come across?” Ten shoots back.

Another bout of laughter rings through, and this time you can smile too. It’s not that you’re particularly bothered by the teasing; it’s just uncharted territories you have no desire to chart. You always thought you’d meet Prince Charming on a balcony in a summer evening, and this is optional, but it should happen with ‘Love Story’ by Taylor Swift playing in the background. It’s quite inane to assume it would be your best friend, whom you have spent countless summer evenings listening to old Taylor Swift songs with.

Before you were aware of college house parties, you thought things like these would be more of a less-people-more-booze sort of situation. Turns out, the alcohol to people ratio is nearly the same. Stumbling out of the entrance to the frat house, Yukhei greets the lot of you with a dazed smile before promptly throwing up into the bushes. Rolling your eyes, you pat his back while Sooyoung gets some water from her purse.

“How many drinks was it this time, Yukhei?” Ten teases. “Half? Three-quarters? No wait, that’s a stretch.”

“Very funny,” Yukhei mutters, somehow still upbeat despite his continuous retching. “I bet you’d be drunk after a shot of whatever the hell I had too.”

Adjusting his jacket, Ten narrows his eyes at Yukhei with an incredulous look. “Okay, you’re on. Let’s go.”

Sicheng raises his hands alarmed, but Ten has disappeared into the swarms of people before any sound can leave him.

“He was supposed to drive on the way back,” Sicheng complains. He opens his mouth in sudden realization and then turns to you. You look from him to Johnny and Sooyoung who share a look and walk briskly into the party with a thumbs-up gesture.

“Oh. Oh no,” you say.

“No, yes,” Sicheng responds.

You shake your head and laugh before sprinting inside, Sicheng’s yells of protest fading out.

Yukhei wasn’t kidding when he said his frat hosts the craziest parties. There’s far too many people here, at least far too many for Ten to have fun. You like the energy of the crowd though, all in their own zones and dancing to old party pop songs. The smell of alcohol hits you so strong at first that you have to take a breather in the little garden space they have. It’s more of an overgrown shrubbery instead of a garden but any green will do. Walking back in, you feel much more comfortable when you take a shot of vodka from a girl passed out on the couch. Laughing, you look around for familiar faces. Parties, however, are not the place to look for faces at all. You think you just spotted a fur neck warmer tied around a dude’s waist while he performs some Neanderthal variant of belly dancing.

You bump into a guy of fairly tall stature, a polite apology tumbling from his lips.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you chuckle in amusement. “You’re not a party kind of guy, are you?”

He stares at you with a placid expression, intrigued. “And how would you know?”

“First, you’re not drunk. Two, you look grossed out by those dudes on the bar table. Three, you’re making conversation with me instead of dancing.”

“So you’re saying I can’t make conversation and dance at the same time.”

“I’m sorry, Mister, but you look like you’d rather not dance at all.”

He laughs. “That’s your way of saying I have a stick up my ass, isn’t it?”

You shrug, giving him your friendliest smile. “I prefer talking to drinking too. What’s your name? I need to know the name of the only sober guy in here.”

“Doyoung,” he answers. “Something tells me you’re not going to give me the same pleasure of knowing your name.”

You smile, pressing your index finger to your lips. “Names at parties are better left unknown.”

Something about him is inherently attractive, and you find yourself drawing nearer. Perhaps you could have a more fun night this way. “It’s much more fun to guess. Now, I’m guessing your party-loving best friend dragged you in here so you could get laid.”

He sighs, smiling at you. “I’m actually part of the frat.”

You gasp, hand covering your mouth. “No way.”

“Someone sober has to oversee whatever the hell’s going on here.” He shrugs. “Now, and this isn’t a guess, but you’re not from our college.”

“Nope. I’m from that little flower town nearby.” 

“Ah, I heard there’s a lovely dahlia field there.”

You nod. “And me. Just as lovely.”

You bite your tongue. That was certainly not sexy enough flirting. Ten has been rubbing off on you with his lame comebacks. Doyoung, however, laughs really loud at that. He must have a worse sense of humour than you thought.

You turn sharply at the sound of your name. Ten seems to be waving at you from a table of beer pong, looking rather distressed. You wave back with a bothered look on your face, aggressively signaling for him to handle his shit alone. He pouts and signals more desperately for you to come. Sighing, you turn to Doyoung.

“Sorry,” you say. “My friend seems to be in a pinch. Either that or he’s attention starved again in a record time of eight minutes.”

Doyoung laughs. “I liked talking to you.”

“I liked talking to you too, plot twist.”

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” Doyoung smiles at you. "Ah, I tend to forget but someone always comes along and shows me how friendships are made."

With one last smile, you leave him and walk halfway through to Ten before realizing you forgot to ask for Doyoung’s number. It’s too late to turn back now for the crowd blocks your version and you begrudgingly make your way to Ten. So much for your fun night.

“What was so important that you had to pull me away from the only attractive dude in this party?” you say, crossing your arms.

“Who, Doyoung?” he asks. “I’m at least six times hotter. And anyway, help me win this.”

You roll your eyes. If Ten knows Doyoung, you can somehow finagle your way into getting his number.

“I suck at this game,” Ten mutters. “How the hell is it supposed to hit its mark when the cup is so far away?”

“You have shitty aim,” you say, taking the ping pong ball and throwing it right into the cup. Smirking at the dude who’s already wasted on the other side, you turn back to Ten.

“That’s how you play.”

“Maybe you just have magic hands. Kiss my balls for good luck—wait, fuck, I didn’t mean that.”

You throw your head back and laugh at the disgusted look on his face. Sometimes Ten forgets to think before he opens his mouth and it might be surprising, but he does think before most things he says. He’s always been careful in the subtlest ways.

“I hate this game,” Ten says after missing the cup again. 

“Let me teach you,” you say, moving behind him and taking his hand holding the ball. He stiffens before letting you guide the angle of projection as you throw. It lands right in despite the wobbly beginning and you grin at him.

“I’m so done with this party,” he whispers, hands on his hips and stretching much like a cat after a nap.

You giggle. “I didn’t drink enough to forget everything that’s ever hurt me though.”

“You’re hurt?” he asks, before clearing his throat. “If you wanna stay, I’ll stay too.”

“I’m not a child, you know?” you say, smiling incredulously. “I don’t need you babysitting me.”

“I don’t need you talking to any more Doyoungs. You know his body count?”

“That guy?” you ask, jaw dropping.

“It’s not that much actually,” Ten continues, smiling deviously. “More than what you expect from a guy in law though. You can shut your jaw.”

You huff. “How do you know though? Did you sleep with him?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “I would rather eat your baking than sleep with him.”

“Hey.”

Right then, the two of you are approached by a now-sober Yukhei. He must have vomited enough alcohol out of his system by now. Johnny stays beside him with mild worry across his features. Sicheng on the other hand looks like his social battery has drained out already.

“It’s time for a drinking game!” Yukhei tells the two of you. “With the… uh… not so drunk people.”

“So just the five of us? Where’s Sooyoung?”

“Doting over Yeri,” Johnny answers.

“Ah.”

“Let’s play something if you guys actually want me to stay and not die of boredom,” Sicheng mumbles in annoyance.

"Truth or drink?" Yukhei suggests. 

"Hell no," you mutter. "I've had enough of that."

"What, no dare this time," he insists with a wide smile and arms outstretched.

You hum. "What are you curious about anyway? I know you wanna know something."

Yukhei scratches the back of his head before glancing at Ten. "Well… have you two ever… I don't know, experimented with each other? Like you're best friends, right, so no hard feelings."

Ten furrows his brows, a gaze that's somewhere between a glare and a confused look.

"Experiment…?" He asks, almost afraid to.

"In bed," says Yukhei bluntly.

Ten turns a few shades darker in the face, noticeable even under the multi-colored party lights. You, on the other hand, pray your stunned expression isn't mistaken for the embarrassment you feel. You're not sure why the feeling arises.

"(Name) wishes," Ten jokes, playing it off.

You roll your eyes. "You wish, asshole."

Yukhei pulls a face and raises a hand to interrupt. "Please don't start another lover's quarrel."

Sicheng snickers at the side, although you thought he wasn't listening. How on earth does this joke not get old to them?

"Anyway, my question is answered," Yukhei says. "Best friends who are in love with each other cannot sleep together but friends who are not… they can right?"

Sicheng hums in response, a teasing smile already on his lips. Ten groans and places his hand to the back of Sicheng's neck, almost threatening.

"What would you know about sex, Sicheng?" He bickers. "You're like virgin supreme."

You narrow your eyes. "And what would you know?"

Ten opens his mouth then closes it promptly. Sicheng and Yukhei on the other hand break into laughter, mentioning something about digging graves before taking their leave from the two of you. You really don't think either of them should be drinking—considering Yukhei's a lightweight and Sicheng is supposed to drive.

Ten smacks the back of your head and you yelp, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can.

"I was trying to help us there," he complains. "You're so unfun."

You mimic his statement and he tries to pinch you in the cheeks, which you expertly avoid.

"So tell me," you say. "Have you or have you not had sex?"

Ten sighs. "Okay, yeah fine. Guilty. Whatever."

"What happened to no flings in New York?"

"Didn't feel like telling you."

"Oh, I'm so hurt."

The two of you look at each other and burst into laughter, easy to forget the scores of people around you in the moment. 

“So you definitely had a few flings in New York,” you say, crossing your arms with a smug smile.

“Like three, yeah,” he answers, shaking his head. “What does it matter?”

Some part of you is satisfied with the way he doesn’t look too interested. It’s the ridiculous part of you. The clementine light over his features make them seem even gentler than usual and you smile, pressing the back of your hand to his cheek.

“Wha—”

“Mhm. Your cheeks are so warm.”

“Oh, so now I’m your personal heater.”

Ten places his hand over yours and your heartbeat hikes, and so easily too when he looks at you with his honey eyes.

“You know what, you’re right. This party’s getting boring.” You look around, as though pretending will help you any better. But then again if Shakespeare was onto something and all the world's a stage, then you never stop pretending, right?

Ten looks at you for a suggestion and the moment pauses, contemplation on both of your faces. 

“Let’s just get Sicheng to drive us back,” you say finally. It’s not like you can stray too far for fear of Sicheng leaving behind the two of you (he’s done that before).

Sicheng jumps at the idea of going back and all of you have to participate in dragging drunk Sooyoung into the car and away from a slightly worn out Yeri. Thanking you and fixing her disheveled hair, she walks back into her own corner to what seems to be aggressively coding on her laptop and flipping the finger to any dude who approaches her. When work calls, you simply cannot hang up.

You and Ten are forced to sit together in the backseat now for Johnny sits shotgun, massaging his forehead from whatever hellsent concoction he made for himself and his friends. The drive is mostly quiet and you lay your head on Ten’s shoulder while Sooyoung snores beside you. It’s quiet like the laps of water between ripples. It feels so secure to stay like this, like the world cannot interrupt. You’ve missed your best friend. You’ve missed him so much.

You and Ten part ways with the others at the crossing and you don’t skip over the path as you used to, with the jovial youth you contained then. No, your steps are slower and perhaps more mature but still in pace with Ten’s just as ever. A cat waits by the entrance to your door, the same calico that has won over your mother’s heart and now waits patiently for treats. In a way, you kept feeding it because you thought of Ten whenever you did.

It seems these days, the only way to get kisses from Ten is to be a cat. He pets the cat with tender strokes and presses his face to its forehead with no fear of cat-borne diseases. 

“Hey, Ten. What about me?” You pucker your lips at him and he presses his palm to your lips instead, snickering.

In these short moments, moments that barely last, do you feel the three years he’s been gone. It’s funny how people change and never realize they do. It’s funny how you’re in awe of every person he becomes.

“I missed your rooftop the most in New York,” Ten says. 

You chuckle. “You hid there when your mom was mad at you.”

“Do you know how many slippers your rooftop has saved me from? I think your rooftop is more of a best friend to me than you are.”

You place your hand over your heart in mock hurt and he shakes his head, grinning.

“Well, let’s prove I’m more worthy of the best friend title then,” you say, grabbing his hand, the skin so soft to you, and dragging him into your house in quiet tiptoes. You remember coming up here back when you pretended to be pirates, when you acted out Shakespeare and when you wanted to forget the world, the terrible, cruel world you found yourself hating often. This is your hiding spot, a safe place. Ten makes it more so. 

Lying down against the rooftop, you trace the sky from star to star. The good thing about small, dimly lit towns is the clear view of the stars. So far from troubles, it must be easy to play the audience. 

“That looks a little like Felis,” Ten says, taking your hand and tracing a particular arrangement of the stars.

“Is that a… cat?”

“Yeah. It’s not a constellation anymore,” he tells you. “But I like to think it is.”

“I wish things never end too,” you mumble. “Like Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Or that new Taylor Swift song. I wish some things went on forever.”

Ten laughs airily. “I wish too.”

You turn to look at him. The curve of his nose is pretty as ever, eyelashes hanging close to the skin of his cheeks as he breathes with eyes closed. There’s a significant number of words you haven’t exchanged yet. There’s so many words you’re holding back.

“You seem tired,” you note.

He hums in response.

“Was New York that hard?”

He opens his eyes to look at you. “A little… tiring, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you can rest now.” You smile and he returns it. 

“I’ve been running for so long and telling myself I’m still dancing,” he says, a sigh escaping afterwards. “I don’t even know where I am anymore.”

“You’re with me,” you respond. “Right here. On my rooftop.”

“Watching the stars again,” he completes, laughing aloud. “God, I wish we were kids again. All I cared about were the flavour of my cereal and how many constellations I could memorize.”

“The stars don’t give a shit about you, Ten,” you tease, repeating the line you used to tell him.

“The stars might not give a shit about us,” he agrees, “But that’s why I’d like to watch them a little longer.” 

“Me too,” you say softly.

You take a deep breath and let it out. These are the moments between the bloom of a flower and when it is picked. These moments are serene and warm and gentle, however ephemeral they may be. These are the moments between the flapping of a butterfly's wings—times when you and Ten fell asleep in detention in fifth grade for something that was very much your fault, or when he pets your head with the biggest grin after pissing you off on purpose or the proximity of the baby blue sky after your latest shopping mall mischief. But the flower will be picked someday. To live is to live in fear, and no matter how you try to buzz out the idea of it, it will come and it will prove itself.

“Sometimes I wish I were an angrier person,” you say quietly.

“What for?”

“They just seem so much more driven.”

“You’re driven enough. I think you do everything right already.”

“Working at plant nurseries, maybe. I’m not even a good enough cashier.”

“Flowers suit you.”

“You know, I could spend my life picking flowers and arranging them if I could,” you say, sitting up. “Everything moves so fast that the garden’s gone by the time I get to smell the flowers. You get me?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I wish time could stop. Sometimes it does. When I’m on stage.”

“What’s that like?”

“It’s very beautiful,” he whispers, eyes fixed on you.

It's quiet, the sounds of the night filling the space between you and him.

"You know, in dance," he starts, "the most powerful thing you can be is still. It's also the most difficult."

You hum in response. "I find it easy to be still with you though. It's like I don't have to perform anymore, you know?"

Ten laughs. "I know. I wish I could say that about my ambitions."

You place your palms against his cheeks, holding his face gently. You're not sure if it's because you're a little tipsy or Ten's lips that are driving you crazy, but you smile wide.

"You are like a flower," you begin rather wisely. "And spring hasn't arrived yet."

Ten blinks before snorting and then laughing like you just said the stupidest thing ever. 

The downside to getting along like a house on fire is that the house is still on fire and you don’t know what to do about it. Your heart is burning and you want to tell him the words you’re holding back. But if they escape your mouth, the wind might carry it away and leave you with a heavy response. You can’t say anything yet. Not until you’ve mustered enough courage to leave this town behind with him. Not until you have enough financial confidence to fall in love.

“Hey, Ten.”

“Hm? Don’t ask me something stupid and ruin the night.”

You giggle. “Will you stay with me wherever I am?”

“A little overdue but yes, until death do us part.” 

The two of you laugh, shoulders shaking and eyes brimming with an unsaid emotion. This is how you fall in love. You fall in love like flowers blossoming and withering, like you have only each other to withstand the test of time. 

“Should we dance?” Ten offers. “This time, maybe you’ll finally learn to not step on my feet.”

“That just makes me want to step on your feet more.”

It's so easy to fall in love that you fall asleep to the feeling—like the nights after you watched cartoons well past bedtime and thought that Ten was the prettiest boy you'd ever seen, after reading illicit internet horror stories in seventh grade that only made you huddle closer, after creating a pillow fort in the name of memories the night of your graduation when you couldn't say out loud that Ten really is the prettiest boy you know. The feeling slips in like you slip on your night clothes and you forget they were ever off at all. Comfort is a fleeting thing but in that moment, it felt forever.

act ii scene iii.

Halloween is undoubtedly the greatest time to spend with friends. There’s spooky stories shared, an abundance of favourite candies and if you happen to be friends with theatre kids, there’s most certainly a fun play going on. The crisp autumn air is vaguely nostalgic, brimming with memories in this town. 

Evening creeps in and once you’re done with the day’s chores, you get dressed with such speed that your mother has to convince you to slow down. It’s like you’re a kid again, and you'd like to enjoy this morsel of your childhood before you're forced to grow up.

Greeting Ten’s mother as you rush into the house, you run up the stairs and into Ten’s room, opening the door with a loud bang. Somehow, Ten’s scream is louder than that. He’s wearing a towel around his waist (only a towel), hands covering his chest with a horrified look on his face.

"Stop screaming," you say, hands on your hips. "We've seen each other naked, what's the big deal? Actually, do that pitch again, you sound like Meryl Streep from Mamma Mia."

Ten chokes, covering his mouth with his knuckles while he coughs.

"We were like four and a half! How does that count?"

You giggle, turning around. "Change. Quick."

"I mean, you can see if you like, darling," he calls, liltingly. "I know you can't resist me. Ugh. Can't stand all this pining from a friend."

You make a gagging sound and he laughs. It seems like he’s gotten over the initial shock of you barging in. The sound of the wardrobe opening and Ten shuffling through clothes follows. You are glad, however, that he can't see the look on your face. You must be looking ridiculous. You wonder if he can see how tense your shoulders and torso are. This is not the way you wanted to start the evening. Can he tell apart the distinct nervousness in your voice? It's suddenly difficult to play it cool. And isn't playing it cool something you do in front of a crush?

You catch a glimpse of his naked back and it makes you shake your head violently to get rid of the thought. How ridiculous. You can’t be lovers yet.

“Alright, you can turn around. What the fuck are you even supposed to be?”

"Say hello to the wicked witch of the West!" You exclaim, grinning ear to ear when you jump around.

"Oh, you don't have to dress up for that."

Your smile turns into a pout and you pull hard at his still-soft cheeks. He lets out a pained whine, grabbing your wrists and gently tugging them off. His skin turns red easily, however, and you're left with an image of rosy-cheeked Ten just like when you first met.

“You’re a demon spawn,” he hisses, rubbing his sore cheek. 

“No, that’s definitely your thing. Can’t borrow that,” you say, crossing your arms and smiling smugly. “Why aren’t you dressed as one? Actually, why aren’t you dressed as anything?”

Ten shrugs. “I have to wear some ridiculous ghost outfit for the play so I decided I’d rather play the part of a sexy pirate ghost.”

You snort, looking at the half-buttoned white shirt tucked neatly into black trousers. “You? A ghost? A poltergeist is the word you’re looking for.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “If I were a ghost, I’d definitely haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Okay, ghost boy, let’s get going.” You loop your arms through his and pull him out, leaving in just as much a whirlwind as you walked in. You do walk back in though—to stuff a few of the cookies Ten’s mom baked in your mouth and walk right out with a muffled ‘thank you’ and your hand still around Ten’s wrist.

Arriving at the theatre, Ten catches his breath though he tries to not look worn out before squinting and making a show of searching for something.

“What are you looking for?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“The train you thought we were going to miss.”

You stick your tongue out and finally let go of his hand. He pulls it to himself, rubbing at his wrist with an exaggerated look of pain. 

“Oh, it’s still intact. Thought I’d have to bid farewell to my dreams of being a professional calligrapher.”

“Eat ink, Ten.”

“Ooh, it’s the rare PG-13 (name). Nice.”

A loud bang emanates from the back entrance, Sicheng looking like a rather mortified Count Dracula (which is strange because Dracula is immortal, right?) with fake blood splattered across his jaw and two little fangs poking out. Ten no wastes no time in complimenting them, making Sicheng rather flustered.

“It was bad enough having to listen to your flirting through the door,” Sicheng mutters. “Get in. Quick. Sooyoung pulled out and we need someone to fill in.”

Your eyes light up and Sicheng is about to deny your wishes when Ten intervenes.

“(name). You get to play a slightly deranged witch with a most definitely existing bloodlust. You in?”

“You bet I am! I was born ready. Except in sixth grade when I had that meh phase and I wasn’t born ready. Then I was born ready again!”

Sicheng makes a face. “Yeah sure, just get in.”

“Aren’t you glad I’m dressed for the occasion?”

“Not really, no.”

Ten whistles when he walks in. “How much fake blood did you guys get?”

“Enough to re-enact Red Wedding from Game of Thrones,” Johnny answers from a corner, in a costume which you can’t tell if it’s a werewolf or just a fursuit. You can never seem to guess when it comes to Johnny.

Ten laughs before turning to you, the sound tuning out. “I have never watched Game of Thrones.”

You pat his shoulder, laughing. In the next moment, Sicheng pushes a script towards you, expecting you to actually read.

“Sicheng, you know I’m going to improvise.”

Sicheng groans. “Shakespeare was right. Hell is empty and all the demons are here.”

Throwing a pointed glare at you when he says the word ‘demons’, he crosses his arms. It’s easy to convince him though—he’s quite amenable when he’s stressed out about details and both you and Ten know he just needs some reassurance and good, gentle shove.

You and Ten sit on either side of him on a really, really worn out couch that you’re not sure can hold the weight of the three of you.

Sicheng holds up his hands in both of your faces before you can open your mouth.

“I feel like the child of a really immature couple who is forced to grow up at a tender age because his parents are so immature.”

“Uh,” Ten starts. “That’s very specific.”

“The character I’m playing has daddy issues,” Sicheng responds casually, and a little out of it. “Actually he’s got mommy issues too. Why am I playing an eight year old?”

“Because children are crap at acting,” Ten answers and you reach your arm to smack the back of his head.

“What? Ow, that hurt.”

“Sicheng, it’s our stupid Halloween play. We do it to have fun,” you say, placing your hand 

“You going all motherly is freaking me out,” Sicheng says, wide eyes staring at you.

“You’re right,” you say, dramatically sighing. “Motherhood changed me. I can’t do evil black magic anymore. Aha! That’s a good dialogue, isn’t it?”

“Harrowing, actually, but I guess that’s what you’re going for.”

You and Ten share a fond smile, laughing to yourselves till Joohyun calls you and gives you basic stage direction. She’s almost never home except for Halloween and it makes the holiday even more exceptional.

“Ready, Wicked Witch of the West?” Ten nudges you before he has to go on stage. 

“Wait, is that actually my character?”

“No. No, it isn’t. For the love of cats—the animal, not the musical—please just keep speaking and make it worse on stage. I need a recording to laugh at.”

You roll your eyes and push him on. He looks so at peace there, the conversation from that night coursing in remembrance. It’s like everything is still, the lack of motion driving him to move. 

You never understand it yourself, however, when you’re on stage. You blabber like an idiot, as Ten says, and the audience laughs and that is it. You don’t experience what he does and it sometimes drives you a little crazy. Of course, you adding a pregnancy narrative to your witch does throw the rest of the cast for a loop but they handle it well. You just have to make sure you run as fast as you can from Joohyun after the play is done.

“Good job there,” Ten snickers after you duck behind a curtain as Joohyun passes by with furrowed brows and a frown. 

“I know right? I’m literally Oscar-worthy,” you whisper-yell and Ten shakes his head.

“Come on.” This time his hand grips your wrist. “I know the best way to sneak out of this theatre.”

Taking a flight of stairs that you were previously unaware of, you plunge into the darkness of what seems to be an attic. Ten turns on the flashlight of his phone and you yelp, the lighting not helping his already spooky makeup. He laughs before navigating through a bunch of boxes. 

“I heard they used to use this room as an execution chamber,” Ten whispers.

“They did not. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay fine. I did cry here though after reading an internet article about ill-fated lovers in ancient Asia.”

“Ugh. Truly horrifying.”

“Yeah, yeah. Emotions terrify you.”

“They do not.”

Ten stops walking.

“Oh yeah? Got any proof?”

You stop yourself before you can do something embarrassing. The first thought that came to you was to kiss the smug look off his face and it does terrify you. The bastard is right. 

“I… cried at your birthday party.”

“You were six. Everyone cries when they’re six.”

“Alright, fine. I cried after you left.”

The silence makes you look up and for once, you don’t really want Ten to be so speechless. You punch his shoulder lightly.

“I missed you a lot,” you say quietly. “Is that so surprising?”

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. 

“Hello? Anyone inside?” You knock at his forehead before holding his face between your face. “You’re shivering. It’s pretty cold here.”

“I’m not cold,” he says quickly, the red rising in his face.

“Of course, you’re cold. Your cheeks are aflame, that’s how cold it is.”

Ten shuts off the flashlight and you scream at the abrupt darkness.

“It’s not from the cold,” he mumbles.

Now left with only Ten’s warm hand around your wrist, you let him guide through wherever the hell it is you are before emerging onto the second floor of 1075 Building. 

“What the hell?” You gasp. “Why wasn’t I aware there was a secret passage here? Is this what archaeologists feel like? ”

Ten smiles, in some sort of victory. “You don’t know a lot of things.”

You walk into the empty room, or rather wiggle in through the window—this building used to be some sort of housing apartment before being torn down halfway for renovation. Some ghost stories spooked the workers too much to continue. However, having been here long enough, you know that the only thing haunting this place is the abundance of cats. In fact, you can see a few eyeing the two of you from the other windowsills. The room is fairly well-lit and maintained so you guess the renovation will start again soon.

“You got us pizza?” you exclaim at the pizza boxes and cans of cola resting over a little picnic blanket.

“Yes, I did. Wait, crap, I forgot the candy.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” You show him the Reese’s peanut butter cups and Snickers you had pocketed from some unsuspecting children. They get way too many anyway. This is completely morally justified—you’re doing this to save them from cavities and poor health.

“I can’t believe you’d ever want to escape a theatre,” you say before humming at how good the pizza tastes. Pizza is always better when you’re having it someplace you’re not supposed to be in.

“Sometimes, it’s suffocating.” He finally bites into his pizza, an unreadable look over him. You don’t like it. Shifting closer so that your knees touch, you lean in a little.

“Oh, really? After all that talk about how beautiful it is.”

“It is. It just wears me out sometimes. Like you.”

Ten flushes red immediately. “I didn’t mean it—I, I… uh.”

“Aw, you think I’m beautiful.”

“Gah, I knew you’d say that.”

There’s a pause. 

“I got kicked out, actually,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“I had some disagreements with the writers and… and here I am.”

You look at him in stunned silence. “They did fucking what? I’m going to kill them.”

“No, (name). I was at fault. I overstepped. I guess city air made me a little greedy.”

“You were always greedy though.”

“If that’s your example of sympathy, you are horrible at it. Never try again.”

“Well.” You smile reassuringly. “You’re quite beautiful on stage. Too. Like me, as you said.”

“I’m a performer,” he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice when he leans in. “You can’t beat me at that.” 

“Then put on a show for me, darling.” You raise an eyebrow, a cocky smile over your lips.

Ten’s cheeks colour. It’s silent for a few moments and you take notice of the lack of distance between your noses, your lips. He seems to lose touch with reality when he gently cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. A soft gasp escapes you, not quite ready for the contact.

Ten pulls apart immediately, a look of horror in his eyes.

“I- I’m sorry… I got caught in the—I’m sorry.”

He gets up abruptly and you still sit there in shock. When your senses are back, the room is empty and you hug yourself, feeling colder. God, you’re an idiot. For the first time in your life, you’ve come to your senses and you decide to let the only person you’ve loved walk out the door.

Your texts to him that night aren’t even left on read but you know he’s read the notifications. He always does when he’s avoiding someone. You feel the weight slithering in, pinning you down and making it hard to sleep that night. You have so many things you want to say to him and this time, you’re ready. Even if fate doesn’t let you, you will speak the lines you should have chosen much earlier.

act ii scene iv.

You don’t have anyone to show it to but the news broke you.

The idea of him keeping it all to himself, bearing burdens that are better shared makes your heart collapse its walls into itself. You’re supposed to be there. You were supposed to be there from every pitfall to the top of the world. You were supposed to be at every stage, at every afterparty and for every bout of performance high. You didn’t mean to leave the seat empty.

You were supposed to be there at every rejection and every failure, making fun of all the troubles. 

You get a text from Ten two mornings later to meet up at the new cafe everyone’s been talking about. It takes you the rest of the morning to practise what you’ll say, what you won’t and how you’ll say it. You’ve never done this much for actual plays. But you’re not acting—you just need the words to come out right.

The wall of the cafe is covered in ivy, but you cannot waste time admiring it. Your nerves have the best of you. You stop at the entrance, backtracking to say your entire speech in your head once again. The most important friendship of your life depends on this stupid monologue you came up with a night before in front of the mirror.

“(name).” 

You jump, finding Ten behind you. His nose is a little red from the cold but he looks fine apart from that. You can’t believe you’re early. This might be the first time in your life and you breathe out, slightly more confident.

“Can you… uh, not block the door?”

“Right. Sorry.”

The two of you walk in, a nervous tremble over your fingers but you clasp your hands together tight. He still remembers your favourite drink and you take a moment to try and understand why it’s surprising at all. You wish he never left.

“Ten,” you begin. “If you want to talk about that kiss—”

“Stop. I’m sorry. That was so out of line.” He lets out a distressed sigh, leaning back in the chair. 

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” you say quickly. That was not in the speech.

He sits up. “I… Am I taking things too seriously? You’ve been my longest friend, (name). You should tell me.”

You frown. “I didn’t mean it in a harsh way. You just think it’s bad because you kissed your best friend and—”

“No. What do you think?”

You gulp.

“See, (name)? I lied because it fucking hurts right now. I don’t want to play this part.”

“No, Ten. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so many things but there’s the city, your job—oh. I- I don’t mean to bring it up if the wound is still fresh. Ten—”

“You don’t understand,” he cuts. “You’ve always been happy here. You’re happy wherever.  I’m not… like… that.”

There’s a pause. You pull your jacket closer, the temperature dropping despite the smell of warm baked goods and hit coffee.

“I thought you knew me,” you whisper coldly. 

Ten looks away. “I don’t. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know anything about anything.” 

You breathe sharply. “Ten, I know the city was tough but it’s all you ever wanted.”

“I don’t know what I want,” he whispers. “I don’t know where I belong and- and it just keeps getting harder.”

Your eyes soften. “At least, you were there at Broadway. You took the first step and maybe… maybe you can make a priority list, you know? Work things out.”

“(name), stop. You keep trying to cheer me up in the wrong way.” He dips his face into his palms, rubbing at it and sighing.

You purse your lips. This conversation is going nowhere and you’re holding onto the last shred of your empathy. You just want him back with you.

“You got to go out there, Ten. You went to college, you went to New York. You got to go out there and live your dreams, for whatever it was worth, while I’m stuck in this nothing town. Forever.”

“That’s… that’s not true,” he says, voice breaking. “You were saving up for college. We would live in the same city, in the same apartment with the cats and the hot pink curtains and a coffee maker—oh god, I’ve ruined it.”

It’s painful. You don’t know what to say. If this were a movie, the beautiful, romantic kind, you’d be confessing your long-kept feelings. But you don’t know. You don’t know anything about anything. It’s been a year and he’s changed in a way you don’t know and you can’t throw it onto him like this. This isn’t a movie, and you don’t have a script. Your practised words are forgotten as soon as they reach the tip of your tongue. 

People change, and you’re holding onto someone he’s already buried. He’s not in love with you; teenage love is shaky, wobbly at the foundation. He misses the years, not you. You’ve known him your whole life and yet a year’s difference makes you see things differently. You were lonely without him. You were lonely when you had to keep yourself from calling him, when you finally decided to stop sending daily texts, when you couldn’t find the same comfort in any of your other friends. You hurt him and now, you have to face it.

You pick wilting flowers at an overgrown garden. 

No, even if it isn’t you, you want him. You want him and him only, the years be damned. The past pales in comparison to what is now.

“I’m in love with you,” you blurt. “I was just shocked last night because I didn’t think you were in love with me.”

“You’re not in love with me,” he counters. “You’ve been in love with so many people but none of them were me.”

“You. It’s you—oh my god, it was always you.”

Ten glances at his untouched cup, yet undecided on what to do with his fingers when they stop tapping against the bright red plastic table abruptly.

“So what? So what if it was me? I don’t know what it’s like to play that part.”

You breathe out. There’s a silence between the two of you, one which you remember hanging stars upon. Now it's quiet in a way that has nothing to do with astronomy, or art, or music or anything, really. It’s empty. Like every other silence.

“I loved you,” you whisper in an attempt that is more delirious than for closure. “Do you really not know what that’s like?”

Ten shakes his head. “I… I don’t.”

The memories of him smiling under the sun, only memories keep your tears from brimming up. There was meant to be closure. There was meant to be an explanation. You were supposed to be closing that door you opened into each other. Ten looks at your shaking hands and for a moment, you think he might even reach out and warm them up with his sunlit ones. You press them to your face and breathe into them.

“You brought me all the way here to lie to me?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows.

“I’m not lying—I can’t care about you. You know that, right? I’ll ruin your life. Like I’ve ruined mine.”

You laugh, partly in exasperation and partly as an attempt to alleviate the pain in your chest. 

“You’re my boy. I know you better than anything else I know.”

“Don’t- Don’t do that. Don’t make me want something more.”

"Why would you kiss me?" You bite down your lip to stop yourself from crying.

Ten seems at a loss for words, looking at you with parted lips and guilty eyes. 

"I love you. I'm sorry."

With your eyes downcast, you take a shaky breath. It's now or never. Never, never, never. The word chimes like wedding bells and you think for a moment, to lie. If you pretend, if you act, you'll live it out. He cannot stay and you cannot leave. What a ridiculous pair you are.

You squeeze your eyes shut, get up and lean over the table to place a kiss against Ten's mouth. You pull away with reluctance, looking at the quiet surprise in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I got… I got caught in the moment."

Ten stares at you soundlessly, mouth moving and yet no words come out. Instead, he runs his fingers through your hair before placing his hand on your cheek and leans in again. There's a red flush over his cheeks and it makes you feel at ease.

"I didn't want to hold you back," you say after parting. "Or at least, that's what I told myself. But this year without you has been so painful."

Ten doesn't say anything.

"I… I didn't know what I felt and- and I was so scared… I didn't mean to hurt you. I hate that I did."

“I was afraid,” he says, breathing out like he was holding it in. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t care if I came back.” 

Time treats everything poorly. This time, you’ll try your best to win against it. Ten breaks into a wide, relieved smile and you laugh, rubbing at the tears that collected. God, you were so afraid you wouldn't ever be able to talk to each other anymore. Every room you’ve been in without Ten has been so empty that you had stopped opening doors at all. The coffee is hot and tastes better than ever.

//

You dream of something as ridiculous as the love you feel for Ten. 

There's a cat in the sky, made of stars and with a booming, deep voice—and you, you are little and insignificant on a forgotten rooftop. It is serene, in quiet contemplation, and you are looking at it like a neglected child at its mother. You ask something without words and it responds without words. 

All of sudden, the image disappears and you find yourself in a garden, picking flowers. The clothes you wear are not yours, the face you wear is not yours. But Ten, you'd recognise him anywhere, any time, in another lifetime.

You could see the clear distinction between the two of you however. You wore robes of royalty, the auspicious gold embroidery glistening, and he, that of a performing artist in quiet sage green. The blue irises that grew around you paid no heed to your colours and you had the thought that you should be like them. Vivid, smiling and never alone.

Ten greets you with a smile first and then stretches out his arms. You run to him, with enough force to knock the two of you onto the soft, grassy ground. No one will find the two of you here, in this flower bed. You remember thinking that royalty puts on just as much a show as theatre actors.

You didn't have to remember all of it to know that the story was a tragedy, carefully crafted by divine writers and painters. It was cruel, as is every writer's hand. You see him last under a beautiful sunset before an execution, the words ‘please’ on his lips and no hint of resentment in his smile. It was unlike him. It was so unlike him. 

You hug yourself. He shouldn’t have forgiven you so easily. It takes you a few moments to come back to your senses; this is not you. That person in your dreams wasn’t you—why did you have to feel all that pain? That person in your dream watched their lover die—no, let their lover die as though discarding a messed up sketch. Cruel. It was so cruel. 

The burning idea sprouts in your mind that it was the original script. That perhaps you were cruel and he was not and it’s been that way since forever. That if you don’t do something about it, you’ll be the villain once more. It's as scary to be young as it is lively—and not for once, did you ever think that villains were children too.

ACT III: HAPPINESS 

 act iii scene i.

If the world were to end tomorrow, Ten would spend tonight dancing with you. He says it so easily that you forget to tease him about it.

“Not like that,” he instructs, eyebrows furrowed. “Do this.”

“I am doing this.” You huff, crossing your arms.

“No, you’re not—holy shit, your arms are made of lead.”

You punch him in the shoulder and he stumbles, losing his balance. He sits down on his bed, leaning back on his arms and laughs. You join him and sit down on the fuzzy rug. He gets off immediately to sit beside you.

“I mean, you’re not that bad,” he says with a shrug.

You mimic his statement, rolling your eyes and he attacks your side with an unannounced bout of tickling. The last time you did this, you were a foot shorter and no high school dating rumours were flying around. The last time you did this, you didn’t end up kissing, limbs entangled with each other. December feels like June.

Ten pulls away from you, hovering over to kiss you once again before kissing turns into giggling which turns into laughter.

“I like this," you say quietly.

"Kissing me?" He asks with a sly grin.

"It's actually a little disappointing. Thought you'd be a ten at kissing."

"Atrocious. Disgusting. Vile. Never say that to me again."

You stick your tongue out at him and he does the same, the afternoon torpor settling in heavy as you cuddle into each other. It’s nostalgic almost but at the same time, so very new. You want to talk to him for hours and hours but when the hours end, it never feels enough. An ending is what you despise. Your thoughts meander.

“I had a nightmare,” you confess suddenly.

There’s a very brief pause. Before Ten even says anything, his arms reach out, pulling you into him. It’s warm and you smile.

“Was it your own face you saw?”

“Fuck you. You ruined the moment.”

“We were having a moment?”

You elbow him in the gut and he lets out a grunt of pain, the two of you moving away from each other just to glare. Ten caves first, sliding closer to you and placing his palm against your cheek.

“Can we resume our moment?” he asks, eyes crinkling when he smiles.

You press your forehead to his, your breathing in perfect coordination. This feels easy. This feels right. You pull away and look at him, the silence encasing your moment with him.

“I saw you in it. I… I lost you in it.” You bite your lower lip, avoiding his gaze.

“Hey. It was just a bad dream. I’m right here.” Ten draws closer, his breath mingling with yours and the warmth seeps into you just enough to forget the cold night. 

“You know what would cheer me up from a nightmare?” You nudge him.

“If you say visiting the graveyard—god, fuck, you’re gonna say visiting the graveyard. My suggestion is that you see a therapist.”

“I would if I had the money,” you retort.

Ten shrugs before furrowing his eyebrows. “Are we actually going to the graveyard? You know there are like graves there.”

“That’s… why it’s called a graveyard.”

“Don’t get smart with me, you failed seventh grade English.”

“You failed sixth grade math, Ten. Sixth grade. They teach you like fractions and shit then.”

“Do I look like I need to add three-fourths and one-eighths ever in my life?”

You shake your head before getting up with a burst of energy, and pick up your jacket from his bed. 

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” You start to chant at Ten until he reluctantly gets up. The sun is quite far from setting down yet and everyone knows the perfect time to visit a grave is twilight. Maybe the stone will give your life enough perspective to ease your anxious thoughts.

//

The town cemetery is located by the bed of dahlias which have withered in the seasonal cycle of life and death. There’s a light breeze and your jacket is just enough to withstand it. The sky is orange and pink and the graveyard doesn’t seem as looming as it does in the dead of night (which you know because you’ve visited at two in the morning on a stupid bet with Johnny and somehow Ten was the one scared shitless). You’ve heard stories of the soldiers who were buried here, the women who led the first revolution and everyone else who never got to grace history books. You’ve never enjoyed history much but you can’t gainsay that it puts everything into perspective.

Nothing else matters at the wedding altar and at the grave. 

Ten makes a face at the iron gates of the cemetery. “Okay. We’ve had our adventure. Can we please go get our evening snacks?”

“I love it when you’re antsy, Ten.”

He gives you a sardonic smile. “And I like it better when we’re in my bedroom.”

You gasp dramatically, placing your hand in front of your mouth lightly. “That’s quite scandalous of you, good sir.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling. “I consider myself something of a modern man, you see?”

You skip over the steps to the gates and do a curtsy before gesturing to the entrance. He complies with a sigh of reluctance and lets you take his hand as you pull him in. 

A loud voice startles the two of you and Ten smacks his mouth before he can scream and embarrass himself.

“What business do you have here, trespassers?” The voice echoes through the graveyard.

You look around at the trees and squint at what seems to be some children wearing masks and giggling to themselves. You roll your eyes. Johnny told you some of the town kids were mucking about near the graveyard to spook passersby. 

“You really should get back home for dinner, kids,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Silence, trespasser! You will answer our questions to pass.”

Ten bites back a laugh. “Alright, kids. Shoot.”

“Are the two of you criminals married?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “Do we look that old?”

“Okay! Next question. Did the two of you ever… do it?”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head. 

Ten groans. “You can say sex, you know? Don’t be pussies.”

You elbow him in the side and he yelps. 

“Those are kids,” you whisper.

“I think they’re old enough if they’re asking,” he whispers back.

“No,” you answer the same time he answers “Yes”.

“What?” You look at him in surprise. 

He shrugs, somewhat guilty. “New York,” he responds in a meek voice. “You know?”

You snicker before it turns to laughter. “Why do you look like that? It’s not a crime to have sex—how the fuck did you even get some though?”

“It’s called having sex appeal. Ever heard of it?”

You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to say something when one of the kids clears his throat.

“Okay! You may pass.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “You really just the wanted to ask us about sex, didn’t you?”

“Let’s go, boys!” The kid declares before stopping abruptly. “And girl.”

A group of kids emerges from behind the trees and flock to a hole in the stone wall, laughing amongst themselves as they run out.

“Wow. Kids these days, huh?” Ten says.

“When we were their age, we convinced Yukhei to poke a beehive.”

“Okay, we were asshole kids but no one ever really told us bees were deadly.”

You walk further into the graveyard, beelining towards the same graves you visit often. They’re unnamed but they died sometime in the nineteenth century. Time passes in a way that is hard to comprehend—all these people and stories are never remembered and time is the only witness. Perspective is a luxury to those who have the time to look.

“Why do you like coming here?” Ten asks quietly, eyeing the gravestones with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“For perspective,” you answer truthfully.

He hums, a somewhat understanding note in his voice.

“They only lived for twenty-four years,” you note.

“The world ends too soon sometimes.”

“Kind of sucks.”

“Really sucks.”

The wind is cold when it passes the two of you by. Ten shivers and zips his jacket before checking up on you, fixing your jacket to cover you better.

“When I leave this place, I hope I have a nice farewell,” you whisper.

Ten raises his eyebrow. “Don’t you want it to be an awful, everyone’s-crying sort of affair?”

“No,” you respond, giving him a confused look.

“I want at least one person to be crying,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“That’s kind of—wait a minute.” You glare at him. “You don’t have to use that against me. I wasn’t crying crying.”

“I’m not! I mean it. Like, I want to mean something to someone.”

You draw near enough to link your arms, sighing at the warmth emanating.

“And you’re lying. I know you sobbed right into the pillow like a dramatic ass Disney princess.”

“You’re the one with a flair for drama.” You chuckle.

Ten makes a reluctant sound of agreement, crossing his arms. As he looks at the graves, there’s an expression on his face you can’t quite fathom. It could be mourning—but the graves are nameless, or it could be pity—but he believes that pity is not a positive emotion to feel. You want to ask but something keeps you from it. Something tells you that the answer won’t be pleasant for either of you.

“I hope I cry too,” he whispers. “When I leave and the curtain falls and the world ends.”

You look at him, pondering.

“When I leave,” he begins again, “I want it to hurt. When everything changes, I want it to hurt bad. Then I know it meant something.”

You slip your hand into his and squeeze. “If it means anything, you know I’ll cry if you leave.”

Ten laughs. “Yeah. So when you cried, was it the ugly snot cry or the silently sobbing kind of cry?”

“Fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to retort but gets a full kiss on the mouth instead, good enough to make him forget it. It’s a nice thing to get used to. If time permits, you could do everything together forever.

You return at twilight, grabbing some snacks and arguing whose Netflix account to use and the sun sets before you come to an agreement but it’s not winter anymore inside his room. In fact, it doesn’t feel like winter at all till you look outside and see the naked trees and darker skies, and you remember when you decided last year that you don’t like winter. 

Before you can have a change of heart, you turn to him with sparkling eyes.

He smiles before you even say anything, reading your face as easily as the back of his hand. “You have good news? Or, like, a gift?” Chuckling in breaks, he runs his fingers through your hair.

“I just wanted to talk about our future.”

“Hm?” He seems a little surprised.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out for the both of us. I have faith in you. And in us.”

Ten’s smile falters but he doesn’t let it fall. “I’m glad you do.”

His ringtone startles the two of you just as you lean in, Ten muttering curses at the device. Pausing for a bit when he takes out his phone, he signals you that he needs a minute and leaves you alone in his room. 

Nothing much has changed. There's his cluttered ash wood desk with sketchbooks of varying sizes and colours, shelves with small plushies and, you notice carefully, the butterfly pin you stole. Beside it is the panda soft toy you had found at the side of the road walking back from school and felt so bad, you had "adopted" it. You let out a chuckle.

“Ten?” you call, holding the little panda soft toy.

Ten paces outside his room, speaking in a hush. His features are tense, shoulders stiff and eyes focused when he talks to the caller. Noticing you, his eyes soften for a bit and he makes his way towards you.

“I’ll- I’ll talk to you later,” he speaks sharply into the phone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, walking up to him.

“Sicheng,” he replies briskly.

“Oh.” You remember the doll in your hand and pick it up to show him. “Remember how we got this?”

He smiles but something is amiss in his eyes. “Of course I remember.”

Whatever it is, it must not be important. After all, he’s your best friend and best friends tell each other everything. Morning will come and everything will be alright.

//

The night is cold and the moon is missing. The clothes you wear are not your own once again. This dream begins when the sun has just set and you can taste bitter defeat, but of what battle you don’t know yet. 

All you know is that there is a war and you are caught in the crossfire. It hurts; you can’t feel your limbs anymore and another injury won’t matter anymore. Maybe this is the only life you won in.

No one dies in a way that matters. No one dies for anything at all. It just happens and that is a truth lying within the reach of the universe. Yet then again, when you find your last breath escaping you as you hold hands with the love of your life, you think there must be some meaning to it. You’re only twenty-four and you will be buried in a nameless grave for a war that was the fault of neither of you. 

It dawns on you the moment you wake up, brushing away the tears on your cheeks. The universe is forgetting you, and the universe is being forgotten, until there is nothing left to be remembered.

All you can think then is that you will miss Ten in the next life, and in the next and the next. 

act iii scene ii.

Ten has to tell you. He knows. He knows how the story ends. 

But he’s afraid. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking facing forward till he’d turned around just to find you gone. New York was fun and he made new friends but it’s difficult to be anywhere without you. You’ve been attached at the hip for so long, it’s become strange to be apart.

Ten thinks about the call. The director was very particular about his role and chances come by as rare as diamonds. Ten breathes out heavy in annoyance, covering his eyes with his forearm. He loves sunny winter mornings and this is the worst one he’s ever experienced. He can hear his mom cooking downstairs, the sound soothing and he groans, running his fingers through his hair. 

He should tell you. He knows he should tell you. But fear never walks in on stage with full gusto, it creeps in, slithers in till he feels a shadow behind him on stage and suddenly, he can’t see the lights anymore. Ten is afraid. He is afraid of losing his sense of self to the millions of people he’s played, and to your vibrant world of flowers and colours. You are always front stage centre. You are at the bottom of everything and he can’t let himself fall deep enough. He’s not enough.

Ten turns to face the collection of DVDs on his shelf, untouched since he'd left. What did he start performing for again? Was it the time you and him pretended to be pirates in his room, his bed your gallant ship, or the time he watched his first movie on a sweltering hot summer day, or the time he sang to you the first time (it was a birthday song remix, made by Ten himself). Surely, it was for something beautiful and not for something like greed. At that time, he thought that maybe if he stole enough lives and stuffed it into the gaping hole, it would sate his envy of the people around him. The bright vibrant colours, he made his own and yet still, he feels like a thief with his nimble feet and a stash of paint bottles in his arms. He's not satisfied at all.

It was a sunlit morning and Ten thought to himself, wouldn’t it be nice if he could paint with all the colours of the rainbow? You, who are so full of vibrance, couldn’t understand this epiphany of his.

"You keep getting on my nerves," he mutters in this empty room of his. "Everything you do gets on my nerves."

Ten decides that he’ll tell you this evening. After all, best friends tell each other everything. The theatre means the world to him but the whole world is out there, ready to be his stage. Eventually, this loneliness will turn into a performance and he’ll be grasping at identities trying to find familiarity. He will take his masks off over and over again, and he knows he’ll still be wearing one. He wants to greet you with his real face.

The world spins at the rate of a thousand miles an hour. It never stops, and that must mean everyone on it can’t stop either. 

//

The crows are singing a song, or talking amongst themselves. You can never know. The song is dyed red as the evening, and with a splash of purple. It’s the season to miss flowers and warm hands and the sweet taste of ice cream. You don't know why but the "let's go to the gardens" text from Ten gave you the most awful feeling, much like the morning after your nightmares.

“I have to go back to New York.”

You look up at Ten from the park bench beside the dahlia fields. The flowers are asleep, not in bloom until next autumn. 

“What?”

“I got a call… from someone I know.”

Your first reaction is to smile wide and jump up. “That’s great! You’re not jobless anymore.” You laugh.

But then the corner of your lips twitch and your smile drops. The word ‘goodbye’ hangs at the tip of your tongue and you look at him, slightly perplexed. Ten, who looks at you with so much kindness, will never understand this envy of yours.

“When… when do you come back?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. It depends on how well I do.”

You laugh despite the heavy feeling settling in your chest. “That- Let’s hope your acting is shitty then, hm?”

Ten frowns. “This isn't a joke. For once in your life, can you look at me with sincerity?”

You grit your teeth at his words. 

“I’m trying to lighten the mood, god dammit,” you murmur bitterly.

“And I’m saying you don’t have to.”

There’s something looming over the top of your heads, something eerie like a clock that never stops ticking or a clock that never ticks.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, surrender in your voice already. 

If you kiss him where you hurt him, will everything be alright? Can you grow the flowers he likes over his scars? Flowers… flowers—which were his favourite again? Irises or daisies? It must have been the prior; you’ve glanced over a hundred times at the endless fields of sleeping blue irises in his sketchbook. And yet, you doubt. Were those flowers chrysanthemums? You’re grasping onto memories and your knuckles are starting to hurt.

Ten looks at you with a gaze that is of the past. He looks at you like he’s mourning, like he’s keeping something grave from you. So you lean in, your lips brushing against his before you can kiss him fully. You want to feel him and for him to feel you, the idea of a relationship foreign and close to you as ever. Even so, you feel like a ghost as you run your fingertips over his skin and through his hair. He knows how to kiss you, how to hold you—and he’s known you for years.

Ten pulls apart for a few moments, breaths weaving into each other. It’s only five centimeters between your lips but it’s still five centimetres. You don’t know if you were meant to be apart or if you were not. The show must go on.

You brush the hair from his face, a lingering smile on your face from the kiss and the way his features align so perfectly. It’s easier to avoid his gaze that way. 

“I’m tired,” he whispers. “I’m so tired. I feel like my skin is losing its grip on my bones. Everything’s falling apart.”

You hum, choking up at the sound of his voice. Soft and yet, so heavy.

He takes a sharp, shaky breath. “I don’t want to go.” 

Forever is the sweetest lie you’ve told each other. 

“You’re going to go,” you pronounce the words into realization. “You’re going to go away again. And I’m going to be right here.”

Your broken heart is making it much more difficult than it should be.

“Don’t go,” you whisper hoarsely. Maybe if this time you didn’t lie. Maybe you’ll be his number one, his lead finally. 

His breathing gets erratic, and he takes a step back to cover his face with his flushed hands. It’s painful to watch him this way and you want to take your words back. But you knew. You knew what the words would result in, what the words would grow into. You feel cruel.

“I… I can’t give up,” he says finally, “I can’t- I can’t. I’m sorry, oh god. Why can’t you come with me? Why do I have to go back alone?”

You swallow, your eyes downcast. 

“I’m not going to wait,” you say finally. “We should… we should stop now. It’s been long enough for us to go our own ways.”

Ten doesn’t move, at a loss for words.

“You… I'm sorry,” he says, choking on his own words. 

Your lips tremble and you wipe at your eyes. He cups your face, thumbs swiping away the tears before you can muster enough strength to push him away. You’re a complete mess, in a way you haven’t been before. Even now, he’s the only one you can face.

“We’re not,” you say, regaining some control over your tongue, “We’re not supposed to be like this. Do you think we would even be friends if we didn’t grow up here together?”

“What- What does that matter?” He furrows his eyebrows, drawing nearer.

“I’m saying that everything could just be a coincidence and maybe… maybe things should just end sometimes.”

You just want to kiss him, in the way a romantic story ends in a sweet kiss and it’s a happy ending.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers. “But if you want distance, I’m giving you thousands of miles of it.”

You clench your jaw. “Don’t blame me for pushing you away.”

Ten throws up his arms in exasperation. “I’m not blaming—why are you so defensive all of a sudden?”

“You made me that way,” you answer, pitch low. Your throat hurts. 

Ten looks at you with disappointment in his eyes, baby pink lips in a frown you hate. "I'm sorry. I have to leave."

You nod and let the words 'see you tomorrow' slip the same time 'goodbye' slips his. He turns his back and walks forwards as he always has, and you look in from the same place as you always have. 

Eventually, you get the energy to go home. You greet your colourful room with the same look you always have before something catches your eye. The colour of your room mostly comes from the polaroids stuck to your wall—you and Ten at your high school graduation dancing to Nicki Minaj, Yukhei and you looking done holding the caricatures Ten painted of you, Sicheng and Ten and you after your first theatre performance together. There are so many smiles that you end laughing, a little crazy with the sound. Perhaps spring isn't as far as you think it is. Perhaps you will be okay.

Everything has an end. You know that. It hurts so fucking bad.

Ten was right. Because it hurts this bad, you know it meant something now. It meant the whole world to you. Winter tumbles upon you at full force even as you hold autumn dearly in your arms.

//

This time, you close your eyes to find yourself in a field of dahlias. The dream is meandering with colours and sounds so quiet that you feel like you’re stuck in time. Then a loud vibration resounds throughout the field; it is not a field at all. 

You are sitting atop a bed of stars, in the belly of something much larger than you are. There is a place in the universe for everyone but you cannot find yourself in it. 

So you sit at the places you’ve always known, at gardens and children’s parks, waiting till your hair turns grey and your skin starts to wrinkle. Time flows around you, faster with each second but you sit so still that you're not breathing anymore. You're so jealous of those who move, dance and play. Does it have to be this painful? You don't want to be all these people in your dreams. You want to paint your own mask.

The world is so busy and you are completely still. You think of sunshine in New York and how he must be loving it and for a moment, your plastered lips quirk upward. 

When you wake up, Ten is on a flight to New York with a text that reads: "I'll come back. I promise." The sunset after a farewell—even you understand the beauty of it and so, you watch him chase his dreams into the sunset.

act iii scene iii.

You know an ending scene when you see one. It’s the only scene you didn’t end up sleeping through. But this doesn’t feel like one, no matter how deep the despair runs through you. This third act love was never supposed to work out and yet, something is amiss.

Ten doesn’t come back even when the billboards proudly show his face and he’s the star of the show. In your opinion, he always has been. But people get comfortable in the present, sink their feet into it, and when they do, they forget the past. 

The world spins at a thousand miles per hour but nothing seems to move for you. Everything stops and life goes on.

epilogue.

Your youth starts to run out.

Sorrow grows into anger, then into resentment. You’re not sure what you hate so desperately but you hate it nonetheless. You’re pissed and you don’t know what to do with yourself except wake up shaking and wanting to shout and cry at the world. You were supposed to have Ten by your side even then. Even when you’re against the world, he was supposed to be there. Now you’re all alone in a world that’s crashing and burning, in a world of your own making and in a world that is no longer in the palm of your hand.

You wish you were an angrier person, you wish you could curse and scream and fight as easily as they do in movies. At least he didn't make a villain out of you when he left first. 

You don’t really have nightmares anymore though. When you have nothing to lose, you start to fear less. You tend to a little garden of your own making after Mr. Yang passes away. There’s a quiet funeral and a will written with your name on it. You did spend most of your time there after Ten left. It’s your flower shop now and you can tend to whichever flowers you want to keep alive.

Sometime in your late twenties, you get a call from an old friend. You meet Doyoung at a coffee shop near the college he went to, and he tells you he got your number from Yukhei that night you met. He says he’s glad your number hasn’t changed in all these years—he found it going through his contacts. You find it cute the way he becomes flustered when trying to explain himself. He’s a lawyer now, finished all those tough years to complete his dreams.

It makes you smile. You think that dreams shouldn’t be kept in a bottle but your shelves are full.

You go on dates at the cutest new cafes and the most ambient restaurants, sometimes to amusement parks so you can laugh at his fear of scary rides. It feels like having a friend once again and you cheer up for the better. 

But Doyoung doesn’t understand history the way you do. He doesn’t understand a lot of things—but it’s not something you expect anyway. He’s rich and he doesn’t know what small towns are like. You think you can be in love again. He proposes to you on a yacht and you nod, paralyzed from your fear of the ocean. Your parents are so happy for you that for a brief time, you feel happy too in the shadow of their joy.

You don’t visit your hometown anymore after the wedding. You don’t visit theatres at all.

Sometimes you remember the night at the rooftop after the party with Ten and smile. But it was one night, one thing you did in a lifetime of nights and things you did. It dawns on you just then that loneliness makes you fragile, fragile enough to push people away instead.

Every time you close your eyes, you’re still dancing with him on the rooftop below the stars that are yet to fade from your memory. You now pick wilting flowers at a wilted garden.

“A play?” you ask, confounded. Doyoung has never been one for theatre.

"Your mom said you liked theatre," Doyoung answers, eyes inquisitive.

"Did she now?"

He smiles. "If you've grown out of it—"

"No. No, I've always wanted to watch a show on Broadway."

"That's settled then."

You start to understand the meaning of this place to Ten. You haven't called him in years and you didn't keep in touch after the first year. Life was as busy for him as it was still for you and you understand some of it now. After all, who would ever want to leave this place?

Being a part of the audience runs a chill up your back, with certain memories drawing to the surface of your thoughts as you sink into the seat. It's a popular musical but you can't say you've ever heard of it. Time runs differently in your little bubble. 

It hurts just about as much as you expect it to. Watching Ten on stage hurts so bad you almost look away. The nostalgia scratches at your throat, filling your head with memories you shouldn't be entertaining anymore. You should've kept in touch. You should've done something. You were friends before everything else.

All you want from him now is forgiveness. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with—

You start to cry before you can do anything about it. Doyoung doesn’t notice beside you, dozed off already to the soft orchestral music.

You must seem delirious, mourning as though you’ve buried a loved one. With a shaky breath, you force yourself to look. It is the tombstone of your childhood love that stands on stage. You were rash. You were so, so young and rash. Your lips tremble again and you cry, chest rising and falling as you remember something so forgotten that it seems a dream, something so warm that’s now six feet under in the cold ground. You mourn.

But he seems happy—and that's all you ever really cared about. That's all you should have cared about.

The play ends on a wonderful musical note and you find yourself in better composure. Shaking Doyoung awake by the shoulder, you look at him expectantly. He seems partly embarrassed to have dozed off and partly apologetic.

"You want to meet Ten?" Doyoung asks quietly.

You blink in surprise.

"You grew up in the same town, right?"

"Yeah… Yeah, we did."

Doyoung smiles. "We went to college at the same place."

"Oh, I know. Most everyone from my town goes to college there actually."

Doyoung hums. 

"He invited me, actually," he says after a while.

"Oh."

It hurts only a little that he didn't invite you first. Did all those years mean nothing beyond a little romance? If you were years younger, you could be chiding him for it. If he were years younger, he would greet you with a Cheshire cat smile.

Backstage smells of sweat. A little perfume and powder but mostly sweat. You know that already. It's just that even the backstage here is grand. 

Ten looks as pretty as ever, even with half the makeup off his face. He looks as pretty as billboard posters, where he was meant to be, and in smiling Instagram posts and articles about how perfect his smile is. He's pretty but in a different sort of way.

Ten doesn't seem surprised. In fact, he greets the two of you with a poster smile. 

"Doyoung," he says first. "(Name). I hope, no wait. You guys better have liked that."

Doyoung laughs. "You'll bully me into liking it even if I didn't."

Ten rolls his eyes. "Law makes you so boring. Or maybe you were always boring."

Doyoung sighs, shaking his head. "Not everyone wants to be the life of the party. There's quite a bunch of wild stories about you on the internet."

Ten snorts. "I don't know why but you saying 'the internet' makes you sound thirty years older."

"There's no arguing with you, is there?"

"Learnt from the best."

You clear your throat. "If the two of you are done with your homoerotic banter…"

Doyoung chokes the same time Ten makes a gagging sound. What the two of them have in common is that they easily become flustered around you.

"I'm going to go wash my face." Doyoung excuses himself, exiting the backstage. 

In any other time or place, it would be fine being just the two of you.

"Ten," you acknowledge. "You look good."

"I always do."

You roll your eyes. "You don't have to mask everything with humour."

"Like you did?"

You fall silent.

“Does it hurt?” you ask.

“It does,” he whispers before raising his voice something more audible. “When I look at your—our old pictures, it does.”

"You've kept them?"

"Of course."

You look at your feet. The reality settles. You’re not going back to the way things were. You’re married to another man. Ten’s not in love with you anymore. If you had taken the step forward back then, if you had kissed him before he took that step back—would things have turned out differently? 

The stars will now gaze at lonely rooftops and empty flower gardens—an audience you never wished to entertain. But now, you're glad to have been part of his play, part of the play you made together.

“Are you happy these days?” he asks. There is no malice, no resentment in his voice.

“Almost,” you answer. “There’s just one thing missing.”

To ask for forgiveness does not mean erasure. You can't move on by letting it go and pretending it was never in the palm of your hand.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t me,” you say quietly, rubbing your forearm.

Ten smiles. “We were a little confused, I think. We wanted to be loved, appreciated and found the easiest way.”

You smile back. “Yeah. It was always easiest with you.”

Ten pauses, looking around with a familiar feline look in his eyes before whispering, “So, Doyoung? Really?”

You straighten, crossing your arms. “He’s really nice. And he’s always asking me how I am, what I ate, and he buys me all the soft toys I want. And he’s a better kisser, by the way.”

Ten places a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “Now, we both know that’s not true.”

You roll your eyes before a short giggle turns into chuckling into laughter, and the two of you find yourself with smiling eyes, the look of childhood on your faces and memories unkempt. 

It is better to grieve than to never have loved anyone enough to. 

It doesn’t hurt anymore but maybe it stopped hurting a long time ago. But it meant something to you, meant so much to you and that's all that makes sense now.

notes.

the words to the play at the beginning of act i scene i is taken from tang xianzu’s preface to his own play, the peony pavilion, however they are not exact quotations. the graveyard scene and the “when everything is gone, i want it to hurt” dialogue are inspired by indie game night in the woods by infinite fall studio and i love that game pls check it out if you have the time and money!!

[mileyjassie]

ασφαλής "safe".

Art made by @jasperiine

Pairing: Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi) x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, Drama.

Word count: 3.4k

Synopsis: You're a artist who fell in love with a statue that came back to life, you're both deep in love, but, since his curiosity and lack of trust make you feel betrayed you leave him behind and now he's searching for you to give him another chance while having to learn how to live in the modern world.

Author's note: I wrote this thinking about the history of eros and psyche, I hope you enjoy reading it.

My lovely one, learn to love, my Psyche.

You saw him for the first time when the golden, warm light of the sunset rested on top of his white, smooth shape, made of marble, finished with genuine perfection.

Few saw how magnificent he was, very few looked into his empty eyes and his well-sculpted lips and saw the true beauty that arose from his presence.

"Bullshit" You were told, some without malice, just disinterested, clearly you did not understand such ignorance, but said nothing because you knew that only you had the gift of seeing life in his curves. In this way, thus, you also avoided the jealousy that you felt trembling and going out of your ears when false words of admiration left the mouths of those who only longed for their own artistic contemplation.

You came back for him, sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by a friend or more, those seeing him for the first time as well as other masterpieces...or those who knew him well, these keeping company since they knew that your path to him was inevitable.

You particularly admired it when you were alone, not many around cared about the time you spent, seeing you sitting on the floor below his figure, doodling or painting in your sketchbook.

It was a habit, a hobby, a kind of meditation, which brought you calm.

"You love him." One of your friends smiled, dictating a fact, not a joke. They knew it, saw it in your eyes and thought it was amusing, the artistic love and appreciation you had. "You keeps drawing this statue, you always comes to see him. This is a little strange." Smiled once more, receiving shakes and confirmations from the rest.

"Maybe I'm in love" You lifted a shoulder, hiding your furtive gaze to show your back and look again at the marble sculpture that lay just ahead.

His fingers touched his stomach differently, his nails were medium and square, you had drawn them several times, from all angles.

"Why don't you ask him out?" The question slid past you, you laughed quietly with it, as if it tickled you. "Why don't you ask him to marry you?"

"I already asked." You turned around again, to see them and shrug. "But he never answered me. I think I will wait forever." Laughter was spreading across the area as you sat next to them with crossed legs. "I think I was rejected..."

"He's making a fool of you."

"You think?" You turned your face, looking the marble marks.

"Do it again."

You narrowed your eyes, hiding your good mood.

"Should I?"

"Ask him again, persist, give him a kiss..."

You were surprised by the excitement that grew out of silence. They all wanted to indulge in entertainment, they wanted a scene to excite them.

You looked at the greek statue that persisted in its elaborate pose, you always wondered if he was seeing something, if he was warning something or if he was sacrificing himself for others. He looked like a petrified hero.

You put your hand on your face, pretending to blush at the indications and flirting suggestions that were being thrown at you.

You left them behind, walking like a lost maiden in the vast hall that you were at, even though there were no obstacles as far the statue in the column on the other side was, you pretended to be naive, meeting him by mistake.

"Oh" You exclaimed, hearing the giggles behind you. "Are you, my love? The one who calls for me?"

When you noticed that only your friends were the viewers, you were bold to go up on the marked block of marble, climbing your fingers through the fabric sculpted by a miraculous genius that covered part of his trunk and legs, listening to some cheeky "hm's".

"I'm here" you touched his cheek, looking at his lips. "I heard you cry out for help. I came to rescue you, my sweet angel."

Your friends hugged each other restlessly, hissing at each other for the romance scene they saw you star in. You tried not to lose focus, not to leave the character you created to satisfy your childish follies.

You closed your eyes just a little, seeing the simple details of his face while allowing your lips to touch the cold, rough surface of the marble, but you closed your eyes for a quick instant, really feeling like an real actress, like an true artist and lover of beauty.

When you heard gasps you didn't care so much, yet you were confused enough, the moment your eyes opened, you saw him inhale deeply and loudly, his eyelids trembling in half-blinkings, his arms resting around you, without strength, totally fragile.

His dark eyes remained stuck in yours, tired in your arms.

His parted lips made the sound you had fantasized about for so long.

"T...Thanks for saving me..."

For an instant the hall was lost, it was empty, silent, private. That was when you realized that you were indifferent about the situation, already astonished when it came to the boy.

His appearance filled you with tenderness, and in the same way filled you with sadness. It was like this?...Was like this how Hades felt when he first saw Persephone?

You took off your coat, covering the boy with blond, tousled hair, already kneeling and hiding himself in the fabric that covered his lower body.

"Are you coming with me, all right?" You murmured gently, waiting for his approval, receiving a innocent look, a little scared, but still seemed to trust what you weree saying. He nodded, accepting your help to stand and get off the block.

The reaction of the friends sitting on the floor on the other side was already expected, and you didn't blame them for that, you could be like that, but for some reason you chose not to be.

You didn't say goodbye to the others, you didn't think to do that at any time. You only had eyes for him.

You prepared him a hot bath, after that you gave him something to eat and offered him your own bed to rest, and you didn't ask for anything in return for that, on the opposite, you gave him the space he needed, nothing you asked for or waited for.

The next day, very early in the morning, a cold but well-lit morning, you woke up when he approached slowly, looking at your face silently and carefully.

"Are not you curious?... Don't you want to ask me anything?" He said calmly, however, curious.

"If that is your will, then I believe I am going to. If it is not, then I will not do it." You sat down, watching him for a while, wondering if he could hear your heart beat so hard. "You look comfortable, that's enough for me."

You stood up, standing beside him, running your fingertips along his side, just touching the woolen fabric of the long sweater you gave him to use.

"If you want to tell me something, just look for me." You whispered, walking away.

"My name is Soonyoung. They called me Hoshi."

You smiled to yourself, very satisfactorily.

"Hoshi... This name I know." You turned around, he did the same.

"For all this time I waited for someone to set me free. I felt alone, often empty... however" He came over, holding his own fingers "You have made me less lonely many days lately, I hoped you could save me... and you did. "

You felt your face flush, but you remained neutral, not wanting to waste his words.

"I just have to thank you." He said at last, making your shoulders relax with his sweetness.

You approached slowly, doing the same with the hand you brought to the side of his face.

"You are my greatest inspiration. I can only thank you for simply having this indescribable beauty that I have been drowning with for so long."

His lips parted in surprise, eyebrows trembled and the top of his ears burned in a vicious pink for your pupils.

Soonyoung had no more expressive reactions after that, so you left him again, not wanting to scare him with the infinite admiration that you had kept inside your head for so long.

"You're gonna have all the care you need. You are safe, Hoshi, calm your spirit."

"I hope..."

You turned around to find his body standing a little far, still trapped in his own imaginary space.

"I hope the gods make you the happiest woman in the world."

You touched his hand, taking him with you to your favorite room, leaving your shyness to satisfy his wishes.

"I know I told you many times not to go out, but I know you need hobbies and here I am providing you with my tools."

Soonyoung observed the room, he seemed impressed with the amount of materials, also happy to have something to do.

You showed him your canvases and your paints, your brushes and pencils, you took him to your table and made him sit down, leaving your hands lightly on his broad shoulders.

"I give you all my sketchbooks, I give you all my secrets, so I hope you find the peace that I find in you."

"Are you going to let me see everything? Are you sure about that?" He asked indecisively, he seemed to imagine all kinds of things that you could have drawn of him. He was right.

You moved your hands up his neck, sinking your fingers into his light, soft hair.

"I don't want to hide what is rightfully yours..."

You lowered yourself to the side of his face, resting your hands on his arms, with a low sigh his face turned towards yours, allowing you two to touch your lips.

You held his jaw, his hands finding your forearms to make you sit on his lap.

You held his face in your hands, noticing him looking for more contact by embracing your waist with one arm and with the other hand holding the back of your thigh.

You parted from his mouth with a foolish smile, receiving a soft smile from the boy in return.

"Do you love me that much? Do you swear to really love me?" He asked hopefully, blushing when you pecked his lips again.

"I'm doing all of this for you."

You stroked his hair, getting up to fetch some new books and putting them in order on the table.

"I have some books keeped, but I noticed that you have read most of them quickly because you were so vague and bored" You looked down, but he didn't seem to notice, he had curious eyes and hands on the books. "Many of them are to study, they are boring if I have to say. So I bought new ones, I hope you like it, I don't think you will be bored with these."

"I am so gratefull." He stood up, hugging you tight, you returned the gesture, completely overwhelmed.

"I am very happy, and extremely grateful, but still curious..."

You looked for his eyes, not understanding what still disturbed him.

"Tell me, my angel."

His hands lightly squeezed your arms, stroking for a moment.

"There is a room, always locked. You always gave me the freedom to explore your house, I didn't want to seem invasive anyway, that's why I never asked..."

You looked away.

"Don't go in there or ask me about it again, okay?" You smiled at the boy, he didn't seem to understand why you were avoiding it.

"Why can't I know what you're hiding there? What are you afraid of me finding out?"

You walked away from Soonyoung, stopping by the doorframe.

"I am giving you everything I have, I am giving you all my love and I asked you for nothing in return, so I warn you, my angel, if you let yourself be led by your curiosity, in the end you will be betraying my trust..."

You saw him press his lips and hide his regretful look, but he said nothing to you, so you left him in the room alone.

It was late at night when you woke up slowly in the void of dawn, trying to understand what disturbed you, if those sounds were of your fear or really true.

You got up, even leaving your room barefoot, wishing you didn't find him awake as you feared every night.

He had stolen you key, opened the room door that you had warned him to stay away, and hidden in the dark. He acted behind your back.

You found him with a tightness in your chest, disappointment was the only word that could describe the pure melancholy that was born in your heart, since you had nothing to hide but your good intentions.

The newspapers were on the table in the small office filled with photos of his sculpture. His eyes lit up on the news, messages, controversies on the computer screen. My friends being part of his miracle in interviews and publications, none of them stabbed or handed me over.

All the chaos that his disappearance brought to your life, all the situations where you had to repress yourself to protect him, emails filling your patience every day, all this you hid from him so that he wouldn't suffer from this turbulent new life. You did it to love you freely, you did it to love him freely.

Soonyoung looked at you confused, maybe sorry to find that nothing bad you hid. It was the opposite, you were protecting him.

"You were thinking about me, my love... I'm sorry."

"You betrayed me, Soonyoung, you betrayed my feelings, the trust I had in you." You watched him from a distance, in a way that you never would have, he noticed, and got hurt.

You walked away when he came to you in search of reconciliation, of affection, but you could not treat him with the same adoration that washed over him at all times.

Even if he killed you inside, you could not deny the sadness that possessed you thoughts, you left him behind, abandoned him, because you could not bear the truth that the love he felt for you weighed much less than the love you felt for him.

"Forgive me" he murmured with red eyes, you don't know if he was afraid to see you go.

You covered yourself with a thick coat, trying to escape his cold hands.

"Don't go, my darling, don't leave me!"

"I cannot stay, because if I look into your eyes I will not hold on, I will not be able to not forgive you, and this is not what my heart is asking so loudly at this moment." You said, sad to let go of his fingers, but so eager to go away. "Don't wait for me, I'm running away." You said at last, leaving your home behind.

"How long do you intend to run away?" One of my friends asked me, in which she gave me shelter, a little upset "Didn't say you loved him?"

You curled up on the upholstery, looking out the window at the blue sky.

"I'm so sad that you could never imagine my pain. Did I make a mistake? Shouldn't I have adored him so much?" You turned to the girl who was adjusting her belongings over the dressing table, not much distracted by your regrets.

"You cry so much but you do not accept to hear about the boy, you do not have the courage to know what our friends are doing with him. You, my friend, so fearless and passionate in the past, now do not seem more than a coward."

You closed your eyes with force and embarrassment, her criticisms hit you like sharp arrows that burned in harsh truths.

"Well, tell me, what did you do to him?" You got up, sitting in front of her on the bed, plagued by dark idealizations. "What are you getting him through?"

"Your friends care about you, but they were touched by the boy, who exudes empathy and sincerity" She approached, indifferent about your feelings, straightening your clothes and hair as if it were a simple morning conversation. "They challenged him to face the world, called him a parasite, ordered him to get a career, a job."

You gasped, astonished by the news, the boy who they said feeling empathy with barely knew how to use a computer and was being led to take unknown paths.

"How scared must my love be?"

"Don't whine having ignored his existence until now." She said impatiently, not letting go of your locks. "You need to stop talking and learn to listen."

"So tell me quickly, hurry up!"

"As I said before, the boy exudes sympathy and soon there was a charismatic reaction in our friends. Noting that he spoke weird, the first decided to teach him to speak correctly, taught him new words and practiced for days, holding on and becoming his closest friend."

You smiled, being interrupted before you mentioned any dazzle.

"The second soon realized that different clothes he didn't have, and being our richest friend was more than happy to buy new clothes for the boy who was so humble and listener. Gave him a new haircut, a set for every type of occasion and perfumes, and I have to confess "She sighed, rolling her eyes, taking her hands out of your hair. "I found it capriciously exaggerated, however, despite being disappointed I feel not surprised."

Noticing how obedient you remained and seeing the anxiety spilling out of your eyes, it didn't take long to proceed.

"Our third friend found out that he knew nothing about the new ways, that walking on the street could not do it alone and that the loud noises made him afraid. That good-hearted friend you have, gave part of the days to take care of the feelings and fears of your beloved, until walking on the sidewalks between crowds and witt cars disturbing your ears were no longer a problem."

You felt your shoulders relax, in incredible inner peace, until you looked up again.

"And you? What did you do?"

She looked at you from the corner, wickedness overflowing through her feline eyes.

"He got the job, now he works as a guide at the city museum, the same museum that you kissed him and left us behind." She paced the room with a sly smile, going over her belongings on the dressing table, going to the high desk by the window. "How can a dependent man like him be by your side if he falls apart when he sees you go? So weak, so sensitive. If he thinks he will have you at all times, I want him to know that it won't be like that, sometime you will have to leave him behind to come to us, the same I say inversely. "

She let the perversity spill and disappear, returning to being the controlled and wise girl from before.

"Did you ever see us flounce when you left us for the boy?" She looked at me, satisfied with my small negative head wave "On the contrary, there was no interference, we are more than that, we are free from blind attachments."

She sat down again, combing your hair back.

"My responsibility was to make him find you, that's what I was asked to do and I agreed, but to be honest, I didn't do anything." She shrugged, self-sufficient. "I said that the only way he would have to find you would have to be on his own, I didn't teach how to handle electronics, I didn't give tips, I didn't give a single picture of you."

You squeezed your eyebrows ready to complain, ready to defend the boy, but regretting the moment you saw her narrow eyes waiting for the cries she was listening these days.

You bowed your head, not knowing what to say or ask.

"Are you proud of him?"

You lifted your head, agreeing with a slight smile.

"I am."

"He worked hard for you, I'm not surprised, I really like him too."

You looked at her quickly with the comment she made, finding her face turned.

"He has earned our trust. But it is not our approval that he needs at the moment." She stood up, going to the window, being surprised, giving birth to an amused smile. "What are you waiting for to find him? Isn't your pain already healed?"

You raised your eyebrows, asking with euphoria rising in your chest. "He is outside?"

She nodded, you jumped out of bed quickly, out into the hall and down the stairs. Was that the reason you were getting ready all this time? You smiled at the thought.

When you were on the sidewalk of the house, you stopped for a moment to find him, but you saw no familiar silhouette, there were some civilians and gentlemen nearby selling fruits but you didn't find the boy you were looking for.

A soft and insecure hand touched your shoulder, you turned with the gesture, in a trance to find his dark hair, but his same sharp eyes staring at you with hope.

You got dizzy with the new details, with the accessories, with the denim jacket, with the sneakers, with the earrings, it didn't look like him, but it was him.

You looked down, seeing his hands holding one of your sketchbooks, a drawing of your face on it, an old self-portrait of an impatient sketch you did once.

He smiled widely, even letting out a laugh.

"You came back to me, my angel!" He said cheerfully, his voice filling the longing you felt, giving you chills for using the nickname you gave him and, of course, with the new pronunciation.

You gladly received his tight embrace, not wanting to loosen your grip on his body, after all you never wanted to stop loving him, not even for a single moment.

"You are the one who found me, love. You finally found me."

"Forgive me for what I did, I will never betray you again, soon you will see that it is more than possible for us to live happily, so come back with me..." he said muffled against your hair, hiding his face in your neck.

You stroked his hair, bringing his face close to yours, brushing lips and watching his small eyes narrow in anticipation for the first kiss so far.

"I know that, dear, and I forgive you. Because I love you."

𝒇𝒊𝒏.

[gaemkyuu]

Of Kings & Queens (Part 5)

Warnings: none!  A/N: We’re almost to the end! I’ve already finished the entire series, just proof reading the last part but also contemplating if I should change the way it ends... Regardless, hope you enjoy this part!  AU!Prince Charlie Gillespie x Fictional Character Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3/Part 4/Part 5/Part 6

Olivia sat in her seat at the small dining table that was arranged for them in the atrium, lost in her thoughts. She wasn’t quite sure what possessed her to request this rendez-vous with Charlie in such a formal manner to her father and it bothered her that she was actually nervous. She had never felt this way before and it made her feel insecure. The desire to rule the Kingdom on her own had always been the forefront of her vision, yet before falling into a restless sleep she could only think about Charlie. Savannah was concerned this morning when she woke Olivia to get her ready for the day, as it looked like Olivia had barely slept. She took a deep breath and gave a big sigh, looking out the glass windows into the beautiful day and listening to the birds chirping.

“Am I interrupting something?” she jumped at the amused voice and immediately Charlie looked apologetic. “I didn’t mean to scare you... You okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about stuff. Hungry?” Olivia had asked the guards and attendants to leave them in peace and that she would call on someone if they were needed. On the table in front of them were dainty pastries, both sweet and savory, along with a pot of tea. She frowned as she forgot to drink her tea and it now sat in its cup lukewarm. 

“Starving. Mind if I move the chair?” she shook her head no and instead of sitting across from her, Charlie now sat beside her. She made the first move by putting one of her favorite pastries on Charlie’s plate and then took one for herself. He poured himself a cup of tea, something Olivia had never seen another man do before. She admired his casualness around him, almost as though there were no formalities. Just two people having a nice breakfast, in the beautiful morning sunlight, enjoying each other’s company. “Guess I made quite the impression on you last night to be summoned to breakfast this morning?”

“I wanted to thank you, actually. I don’t know what would’ve happened if you didn’t follow me out into the garden. Savannah expresses her gratitude too, that’s why she gave us some extra sweets” Olivia couldn’t understand why she felt so excited. She was doing her best to maintain her composure, but she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t fighting the urge to bounce her leg.

“You didn’t need to put this on to thank me, but these strawberry tart are extremely delicious” Olivia giggled as she wiped a crumb off the corner of his mouth, the gesture making him blush. She thought that was extremely cute and she didn’t realize that she was smiling big for him, until he took another bite and smiled back smugly. Her face felt a rush of heat and she cleared her throat awkwardly. “So what’s on your mind?”

“What do you mean?” Charlie chuckled, but accidently inhaled while chewing and choked a bit on the flaky pastry, making Olivia laugh. Charlie sipped on some water and cleared his throat, making sure to dust off any crumbs on him.

“You have a beautiful laugh Princess” she flushed at his compliment and drank her tea hoping to hide her expression. “I mean it. It’s genuine, not snooty at all”

“Olivia is fine, and you’re being nice. I’ve been told I laugh too loudly” Charlie looked at her baffled and confused at the statement.

“What? How are you supposed to laugh, like hihihihihi” his high pitched imitation made her laugh again and he joined in on the laughter this time. They engaged in a ‘who could make the most ridiculous laugh’ battle and by the end of it they were clutching their sides and gasping for air. “You’re too funny”

“My lady?” they didn’t realize that Savannah had knocked on the door, and both of them froze for a moment, thinking their families had caught them being fooling around. “My sincerest apologies for interrupting, but it’s nearly time for his highness to meet with the rest of the Council”

“Thank you Savannah, we shall finish up quickly” Savannah gave her a sad smile, apologetic but duty called. Olivia’s smile faltered as the door closed, remembering that there was an important Council meeting between the Kingdoms of the Nation, but she wasn’t allowed to attend. Charlie noticed this and took her hand in his.

“Don’t let it discourage you Liv. If you could take my place, I’d let you. You’ll be a part of Council decisions one day, they’d be stupid not to let you.” She smiled at the nickname he had given her and at the words of encouragement. As much as she wanted to believe Charlie, she knew that the chances that her presence was requested at the Council meeting was slim. “I really enjoyed our time together... Think we could do this again?”

“When are you leaving?” he paused for a second to think.

“In about three days, but knowing Pat, I’ll be in and out of Nation Affairs meetings. Say the word and I’ll sneak out!” she smiled at his rebelliousness. 

“Then I shall see you later today and tomorrow and the day after that” the smile on his face was huge and he kissed the back of her hand in appreciation. He stood as the doors opened and their guards stepped in to escort them to their respective schedules. Giving her a dashing smile and a formal bow, he winked before leaving her. As he stepped out the doors of the atrium he looked back at her once more and smiled. Savannah noticed the giant smile and blush that crept onto Olivia’s face and gave her a small teasing nudge.

“So we have a contender?” Olivia rolled her eyes at her friend and began walking to their next affair.

***

True to her word, Olivia and Charlie met up several times over the course of three days. Some days they were arranged formally between both families and other times it would be Charlie climbing onto Olivia’s balcony while she was playing the piano. They truly enjoyed each other’s company and sense of humour, and by seeing one another, they were able to breathe comfortably. Much to their displeasure, the three days passed quicker than they wished, and as they walked the Palace gardens the night before Charlie left, a heavy and serious silence hung between them. The Royal Families had dinner together and the two of them kept making glances towards each other, each exchanging a silent conversation. After many exchanges and courses later, Prince Jeremy suggested they go for an evening stroll, and Charlie was quick to catch on. 

Their feet lead them to the same place where they met, the garden’s fountain. Charlie gestured for her to take a seat, which Olivia did and he sat down beside her. Neither said a word, but Olivia rested her head on his shoulder. The physical contact between them had increased, but never amounted to anything more than holding hands or sitting closely to one another. However, anyone could see that these gestures were more than just friendly.

“What will happen when you leave tomorrow?” Olivia dared to start the conversation, knowing that if she left it to Charlie, it probably wouldn’t happen. Charlie shifted uncomfortably for a moment, but not enough to move Olivia’s head off his shoulder.

“I return to the North and you stay here” she scoffed at his plain response, knowing that he was intentionally not answering her question to push her buttons.

“Charlie I’m serious. What is this?” she took her head off his shoulder and angled her body towards him, taking both hands in hers. “I don’t want to jump the gun and make you marry me. That wouldn’t be fair to you or me. We’ve just met” she could see a slight look of hurt cross his eyes and he straightened his spine.

“Have I been misunderstanding our rendez-vous?” Olivia’s eyes widened at the misunderstanding.

“No! No, I mean I really like you, like, like you like you. I just don’t know if this is normal?” Charlie looked confused at her confession. “I don’t know what this is! Like are we a thing? Like do we get married right away or...?” Then it clicked.

“Liv, have you never had a crush before? Or court someone before?” her face became a deep crimson and she avoided eye contact. “So you mean to tell me Princess Olivia has never been on a date prior to her birthday?”

“Well, to be fair I had other priorities. I mean there were people who were interested, I just never had the time of day or interest for them...” She felt shy at the confession, but Charlie’s ego was about to burst. His parents had set him up on multiple dates in hopes that one female would catch his eye and they could officially start a courtship, but it had never gotten past a few one night stands.

“Well, I guess I should ask you then. Where do you want this to go?” Olivia bit her lip, a habit she had when she felt shy to admit something. It drove Charlie wild as he could only imagine how soft her lips would feel against his.

“I mean, I want to keep seeing you and maybe we could talk about getting married, but it kinda feels too soon to talk about it now, y’know?” Charlie chuckled and kissed both of her hands.

“So why don’t we start with courtship? It means that we commit ourselves to each other with marriage in mind, but not so official that our parents can start planning our wedding. We could always call off the courtship if it ever came to that” Charlie didn’t like thinking about the last part in his idea. He already knew that Olivia was a keeper and that to find someone better than her would be impossible, but he didn’t want to force himself onto her given her current situation.

“I would like that very much... We have to tell our families, don’t we?” he nodded and Olivia rolled her eyes, hating that they had to officially let people into their private world. No doubt would she hear about courtship rules from her mother. She gave a big sigh, hating the fact that she couldn’t keep this special thing between the two of them.

“If you sigh any deeper, you might pass out” she elbowed Charlie lightly, as he draped his coat around her, shielding her from the cool breeze of the evening. He pulled her close as she laid her head on his shoulder again, but this time his arm was wrapped around her and he rested his head on top of hers. “Regardless of how much they force themselves to get involved, nothing will change between you and I, Liv”

“I just wish for once that I could keep this to myself. Once we announce our courtship, you know my mom will be on my twenty four seven. Your mom will probably start shopping for wedding bands” He kissed her head softly and held her tightly.

“Then let them Liv. We have our own thing that no one can take away, I promise you.” Olivia moved her head so that she could find reassurance in his eyes. She had come to love the fact that she could read Charlie simply by looking at his eyes. She smiled back at him and nodded her head, accepting his promise. He smiled back and cupped her cheek gently. “Have you ever been kissed?”

“Charlie, I just told you that I turned down every suitor, what makes you think that I-” he stopped her mid-sentence by gently kissing her lips, her eyes fluttering closed. She could see colours exploding behind her closed eyes and as she leaned into the kiss, Charlie took that as a sign to deepen it. Olivia felt scared, nervous, excited and happy. Sure this was all new to her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that it was right. As Charlie broke the kiss and leaned into her forehead with his, she found herself slightly out of breath. “Wow...”

“You can say that again”

***

The night after their kiss in the garden, they announced their courtship to their families before Charlie and King Patrick returned to the Northern Kingdom. It would take them three days to arrive back to their palace, in which Charlie would write his first letter to Olivia. This started a never ending stream of letters back and forth between the two lovers that would arrive every week. Olivia fell hard for Charlie and Charlie fell hard for Olivia, something their families were pleased with.

Olivia learned that courtship meant that they would continue to get to know each other and work towards the goal of marriage. She also learned that the amount of touching, cuddling and their kiss was not part of courting. According to her mother, acts of intimacy should occur after marriage, something that Olivia noted to be careful of the next time Charlie and her met. After all, the kisses that they exchanged that evening and before they left made Olivia blush instantly. 

It had been 6 months since she had last had the opportunity to have a moment alone with Charlie. They had seen each other at Jeremy’s Coronation and wedding, but they were being watched, so sneaking away was nearly impossible. But that didn’t stop Charlie from climbing into your guest room and stealing a quick kiss and I love you, before jumping off the balcony again. She whispered ‘I love you too’ after him, feeling giddy inside at his confession, but that was the only interaction they were able to have.

It came to a shock that as Olivia was reading in the library, she heard the trumpets sound, notifying the Palace that a Royal guest had arrived. Running to the window, Olivia saw that it was indeed Charlie and she sprinted out of the library to meet him in the throne room, catching Savannah on her way over. She paused before entering the room, letting Savannah fix her up before she presented herself. The servants opened the door at her signal and she gracefully made her way down the throne room. She resisted every urge to run and jump into his arms, but the closer she got she could tell something was heavily burdening him.

“Princess, thank you for joining us so promptly. Prince Charles has asked to see you and speak with you privately.” the King gave her a knowing look, hinting at what was about to happen, in which Olivia would be happy about, but she knew Charlie well enough at this point to notice his demeanour was different. He seemed tense and avoided her eyes, knowing that if he let her see them, she would know something is wrong. 

“It would be an honour, your Majesty.” She gave a polite curtsy to her father and Charlie. “Prince Charles, if it suits you, would you like to accompany me to the library parlour?” he nodded, the silence remaining, but he followed her lead out of the throne room. They walked the halls silently and Olivia began to worry. Something was definitely bothering him, as by now he would’ve made a quip or remark. As they arrived to their destination she dismissed the servants and guards requesting a moment of privacy with the Prince, but as soon as the door shut, Charlie’s lips were on hers, desperate. She reciprocated the kiss by holding his face, but she also broke it searching his eyes for answers. “Tell me what’s wrong”

Charlie avoided her eyes and walked away from her, pacing the parlour as she took a seat in the red leather chaise, patting a spot next to her for him. He paced around the room a few moments more, running his hands through his hair, but Olivia sat patiently, waiting for him. Finally, he plopped down next to her, head in his hands. She rubbed his back in hopes that she could offer some sort of comfort.

“Marry me.”

The statement came out a shock to Olivia. She knew her feelings were true and that she would gladly say yes, but the way he was acting made it seemed forced and unsure. Charlie saw the hesitation and confusion on her face and sighed.

“Patrick said that if I don’t propose and marry you soon, I’ll be arranged to marry someone else.” She now understood the anxiety and panic in his body language, but she couldn’t help but ask questions.

“To who?” Charlie groaned in frustration, standing up and pacing again.

“Some chick from a foreign Nation that our Nation wants to do trade with. They want some sort of way to seal the deal and Patrick offered me.” his voice became more frantic as he explained the situation.

“Is she beautiful?” Olivia knew it was a stupid question, but her insecurity got the best of her. The question did cause Charlie to stop pacing and kneel before her.

“What does it matter Liv? I love you! I can’t marry someone else” She saw the love for her in his eyes, but she also saw desperation and fear.

“You’re asking me to marry you, but you don’t seem quite happy about it... What else are you keeping from me?” the question came out quiet, but as she finished it was as though time had stopped and completely silenced itself for them.

“The wedding has to be in a month's time, meaning I will be crowned in two weeks, if you accept” Charlie knew what this meant. This marriage would solidify Olivia’s place as Queen and not King. She felt a lump in her throat which she tried to swallow but wouldn’t go away. 

During their written exchanges, Olivia would update Charlie on her situation of trying to convince her parents to consider going against tradition and Charlie would give her ideas on new ways to convince them. In their exchanges, Charlie had suggested ruling as a united couple, where King and Queen were equal in the Council. He had suggested the idea as he knew King Jeremy and Queen Carolynn would support the decision. In addition, King Owen would agree to it. It felt as though Olivia was close to convincing them, but this marriage would seal the deal on all the hard work she had put in to convincing them. If she accepted his proposal now, she would marry right away and forfeit any chances of her becoming King. If she declined his proposal, she would have a higher chance at becoming King, but in return she would forfeit Charlie to another woman in a foreign nation.

“If I say yes to this, I will solidify everything that my mother wanted for me. I give up every hope and dream I had of becoming King.” she knew she should be happy that she would be married to Charlie, but she couldn’t help but feel trapped, like she had no say in the situation other than yes or no.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to go, believe me. But I can’t marry someone I don’t love Liv. I can’t marry someone that isn’t you” Charlie hated that he was asking this of her. “I know what I’m asking from you isn’t fair, and if I could do this any other way I would, but I’ve run out of time Liv.” Tears that had welled up in her eyes finally spilled over, and she felt awful. “Talk to me, love. It’s just you and me.”

“I hate that everything is always being decided for me... I love you, I do and I should be happy that you’re asking me to marry you, but you’re not asking me, you’re being forced to.” she sniffled as he wiped a tear from her face. “I hate that people who aren’t us are making us live our lives in ways that they see fit, completely disregarding you and me...” her voice trembled as she tried to maintain her composure. “I know that in due time you would’ve asked me to marry you and I would gladly accept, but it should’ve been when we were ready. When I had finally convinced my parents that we would rule over the land equally... but what choice do we have now?”

Charlie moved to sit beside her and held her in his arms. She cried into his shoulder at how unfair things felt in the moment. He said nothing, knowing that there wasn’t anything that could be said to remedy the situation. Finally, Charlie pulled away from Olivia and held her face in his hands.

“Olivia, I love you. You don’t have to say yes.” Olivia cried harder as he said this, knowing very well that Charlie would let her walk away and marry someone else so that she could live out her dream. She knew deep down that if she let Charlie go, she would regret it forever. For the first time, there was something that outweighed her desire of becoming King, and that something was Charlie. Through her soft sobs, she nodded her head and stuttered her answer. “Liv?”

“Yes, Charlie. I will marry you”

tag list:  @ifilwtmfc @warmness0ul @starjane312

[heartau]

Domaine de la Romanée | J.JH [M]

Genre: rich kid!au - angst, smut, slow burn-ish, pining, fluff Word count: 41.2k (i am so sorry.) Comments: ok.... i got rly engrossed in the plot and world building so i went super buckwild on this. i apologize for that. i worked on this for a whole month + 2 weeks so .... enjoy! i’d love love looove hearing some feedback! also UNEDITED.  Warnings: very, very, very explicit sexual content - rough sex, choking, throat-fucking, degradation, dirty talk, oral sex, dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, overstimulation, unprotected, breeding kink | strong language, various sexual scenes, infidelity(? kinda). 

Even the most pure become tainted when their eyes meet his. This was doomed from the start; you knew it was dangerous, you knew it was bad - but all those thoughts left your mind the second he made you feel good. 

[ ⚠ ] This piece involves a very problematic scenario (ie. infidelity). Please note that I do not promote nor advocate it. This is a work of pure fiction, involving a plot that is compelling to read and write about. Please read the trigger warnings listed and assess if you are comfortable to proceed - I do not wish to harm or trigger anybody. Adding on, while this work of fiction features real people, I would like to remind you that how I portray them does not, in any way, correlate to how they truly act in real life - I am just using them as characters for a plot. I do not wish to defame or insult anybody, I am just here to practice my passion in writing and entertain you.

Domaine de la Romanée - Field of Romance

You eyed the roses placed within the glass vase situated in the center of the table and wondered to yourself when this monotonous gala will reach its conclusion. The Versace gown that hugs your body has already started to itch at your skin and the corset that your stylists forced you into before leaving for the jubilee eludes you from making numerous rounds to the dessert table, but your mother’s joyful grin and welcoming arms lead you to believe that the night is far from reaching its end. Unable to slouch over in your seat, all you are able to do is sit stiff against the backrest of your plush velvet chair, fingers pinched at the stem of your glass of wine, swirling the liquid of domaine de la romanée-cont.

This gala was all your mother’s proposal for her new Spring collection releasing just a few days prior, ensembles of pastel and bold colours rolling out onto the runway and fostering a flock of people to rush into your boutiques littered across the globe. Your great-great-grandmother was the founder of Decoré, established in the year 1882, and the brand overtook the fashion industry by storm, raking millions and millions of dollars into your family name. She, who passed the company down to her daughter, who passed it onto her own daughter, who passed it onto your mother, were all eager with the idea of leading their own business. Forthwith, in a few years time, it’ll be your own turn in leading this empire - and you couldn’t be more than fervent in finally having the brand in your own two hands.

Of course, your mother thinks the same, as to why this celebration doubles as a matchmaking service for you, her only child. 

“(Y/N), dear!” she calls your name, hushed by the constant classical music reverberating from the string ensemble. You turn to meet her direction, eyes automatically moving to the man she was pulling along with her, and for the nth time that night, wished that you weren’t stuck in such a tight corset so you could guzzle up every wine bottle in sight in order to avoid the imminent doom. “There is someone I’d like you to meet!” 

Yukhei “Lucas” Xuxi Wong the IV, whom most people know as Wong Yukhei, whom most people refer to as only Lucas. The amount of names that the man holds equates nowhere near the amount of distaste you hold for him; if it weren’t for the grossly iniquitous personality that you have come to know and hear by virtue of the internet, you would have already been charmed by his sharp, dusky eyes and spellbinding smile. Your poor mother, far too oblivious, beams in what you could only describe as acceptance.

“This is Yukhei Wong the IV,” your mother grins as Lucas pulls a chair out for her to sit on. He smooths down his tan Hermés suit before sitting down in the plush seat on your other side, already attempting to send provocative eyes your way. “He is the next in line for the chief executive position of the Wong Institute of Medicine, you know, the beautiful university in New York? Yukhei, this is my daughter, (Y/N)!” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Yukhei.” you say, feigning a kind smile as you outstretch your hand towards the tall, handsome man. 

“Please, call me Lucas,” he coquettes, taking your hand and leaning down to press a kiss on your knuckles. For a split second, you are unsure if the cause of the slight taste of domaine de la romanée-cont travelling back up your esophagus was induced by this wanton or if it’s due to your corset digging into your stomach. “It’s very nice to meet you as well, dear. You are just as beautiful as you are in the photo shoots I’ve seen. Even more so, really.”

You throw him a simper as you gently pull your hand away from him, rejection clear on your expression but unbeknownst to him. You’ve read up on countless articles about this man, how doomed the reputation of Wong Institute was going to be once he gets ahold of the company; limitless cheating scandals, a myriad of DUIs, and multitudes of other alleged crimes, you’re almost confused, if not horrified, at how on earth your mother would think he’d be a perfect candidate for you - but the glimmering chandelier that must have cost millions above you is the token answer to that.

“Lucas was telling me about how the last of his father’s inquiries are wrapping up before KIM is being passed onto him. Isn’t that right, Lucas?” your mother urges the man, who looks at you with a type of hunger in his eyes that you’d rather not question him about. “You two youngsters have a chat, I have to go welcome my guests!”

“Yes, of course!” Lucas tears his eyes off your body for the first time since meeting him only seconds ago, sending a kilowatt smile at your mother, who pivots on her heel before walking back towards the entrance hallway. “My father is such an inspirational man, he’s built an empire of medical resources. So many of the world’s renowned doctors graduated from our institute - but, to be truthful, I’m terrified of taking that empire into my own hands without someone I can call my wife by my side to cheer me on.” 

You try all you can to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “Is that so?” leaves your mouth in bitter fashion.

Ever since you had become of age five years ago, your mother has been desperately trying to match you with a whole slew of men to wed from her business networks, planning blind dates for you and offering you their numbers. From medicine, to theatrics, you have encountered every type of man possible in just the last few years and yet, none of them come quite close to your savour. Either they were far too goal-oriented for you to envision a loving future, far too dull for you to envision a happy future, or far too… abhorrent for you to envision a healthy future. Perhaps your mother knew of Lucas’ true colours but only considered the business venture and the large percentage of the stock he would inherit from the Wong Institute - but other than that, you are stumped as to why she would even contemplate a marriage between the two of you, fields of expertise far too wide and vast from each other.

“Yes, it is,” Lucas says, eyes casting down as if he were reenacting a monologue of a play. “But it’s hard, you know? I haven’t found the perfect woman to marry yet; they’re either far too childish, or are plain gold-diggers, which, frankly, isn’t really my taste.”

“Hm.” you answer bluntly, taking another sip of your savoury wine. 

As he continues to drone on and on about his ideals and morals, none of which you are inclined to believe at all, you find yourself falling short from the wine in your glass, having already drunk all of the liquid. 

“Would you like me to get you some more, (Y/N)?” Lucas asks, cocking his head to the side, a gummy smile stretching on his face. 

You shake your head. “It’s alright, I’ll get it myself. I’m in need of a refresher, anyways,” you stand, legs slightly numb from where your corset pinched your waist. “It was very nice talking to you, Lucas.”

“Of course, of course,” he says, standing up as well. “Can I see you again sometime?”

You scrunch your nose, and for the first time since meeting him, he flashes a dejected look in his eye. “You’ll have to book an appointment with my manager.” 

And with that, you pivot on your heel and head towards the refreshments, leaving a stunned Lucas in your wake, praising yourself for finishing your wine rather than dumping the remnants of it over his Hermés suit. You let out a sigh as you find solace in the classical music, reading the labels of each wine bottle displayed in rows on the table. Finding the bottle for domaine de la romanée-conti, you request one of the caterers to fill your glass, and within seconds, you find yourself standing in the corner of the venue, far from where you originally sat. You studied the decorations adorned throughout the hall, very much in theme with your mother’s Spring collection - fabrics of pastel silk and decorative flowers suspending from the ceiling above, causing chandeliers to look like floweret bulbs and to emit a slight, coral glow. 

“Quite peculiar that the great (Y/N) (Y/L/N) is standing in the corner and not conversing with the guests of her mother’s own gala,” a merry voice causes you to look up from your swirling wine, breaking out into your first smile of the night at the sight of your best friend. 

Joohyun “Irene” Kim, is the granddaughter of the founder of Bae Institute of Fashion, a very renowned university of design established in the hills of Beverly and Hollywood. You had met her the first year you had gone to school, automatically sticking to each other like magnets. Although she may be a quiet woman herself, she was relatively much more confident than you were as a growing child; she had helped you bloom from your shell. You are an only child, but ever since meeting Irene, you only feel as though you’ve grown with a sister.

“Irene,” you smile, crossing your arms over your chest. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Of course I came!” she giggles, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “How could I miss the unravelling of Decoré’s Spring Collection, especially so, since some graduates of the institute collaborated on the subject. I actually saw you not too long ago, conversing with Wong Yukhei,” she leans against the wall beside you. “Anything juicy?”

“Not so,” you let out a sigh. “It’s just mother trying to get me to meet another man for marriage. Although, I’m not sure why she would think that man is a good choice.” 

“Evidently so, last I heard, he splurged half of his institute’s money on a night spent in a hotel in Italy with dozens of women on his arms,” Irene sighs, shaking her head. “Why does your mother insist on you marrying? You’re still a young woman, you have a life to live first - and besides, it’s not like any of the guys she’s found for you are all that interesting either.”

You let out a snicker, shaking your head. “You have no right in lecturing me, Irene, aren’t you engaged?” you quirked an eyebrow at your best friend while she rolls her eyes at you. “Frankly, I’ve never seen you so happy than the night Seokjin proposed. It was quite a sight, really.”

“Oh shut up,” she pouts, lightly hitting you on your shoulder. “Once you find the man you’ve been waiting for, you’ll know the feeling exactly.” 

The rest of the night is spent with you glued to her arm, following her around the venue as she greets the people that she knows. Irene has always been just a little more social than you have ever been, and now with an engagement ring on her finger, it only brings more topics of discussion with her. You had the chance to meet her fiancé, Kim Seokjin, as well, proving himself a good and commendable man; he held admiring eyes for only her and had an air of genuinity - you felt the inkling of envy building in your stomach, not because you wished for Seokjin to love you, but because your best friend had found a good man to settle down with, something that doesn’t seem at all possible for you. 

As the night continues on, you find yourself seated at their table, watching as individuals adorned in brand names from Vuitton to Marchesa walk past you with high chins and flutes of liquor. The string ensemble has shifted their focus from classical and moved onto jazz, and you’re almost sure they’ve been playing the same measure for the past twelve minutes. Sighing as the couple beside you converse as if they’re in their own world, you continue to look around the room, finding your mother rearranging a pot of decorative flowers to her liking right next to a panoramic window. Your eyes shift to the other side of the window, and you instinctively sit forward in your chair.

Clad in a dark grey suit by Hemsworth and a black tie tucked behind his blazer, a handsome man of tall stature does the same thing as you, watching individuals walk past and interact amongst themselves, swirling cheval blanc in his wine glass. His hair, an ash blonde, a dye job that works wonders for his creamy skin tone, is slicked back messily, a few strands of hair slipping through the layer of gel and hanging in front of his forehead. His face, square in shape, held a juxtaposition of features, sharp eyes, but a soft nose; sharp lips, but a sleek jawline and fleshy cheeks. He looked stunning, far more stunning than the men you’ve met throughout the last five years; he looked as if he walked out of an impressionist painting. 

Just before you were about to tear your eyes off of the man, his head turns to your direction, automatically meeting your eyes. For a split second, his gaze tears, only to return boring into yours again, which causes you to gasp slightly. His face remains expressionless as he continues your eye contact, before he surely looks away from you one last time. Your hand bunches up the soft blue silk of your Versace gown before spinning towards Irene. 

“Irene.” you grab her hand, diverting her attention away from her fiancé. 

“Yes? What is it?” she turns to you. You let out a puff of air before continuing your sentence.

You turn your head again to see if the man is still there, to which he was, eyes back to focusing on the rest of the crowd lining the halls. “That man over there, in the dark grey, next to the window,” you whisper to her. “Who is he? I’ve never seen him before.”

Her eyes follow your line of sight with an expression of joy since at last, you’ve finally found a man you showed at least an inkling of interest in, but once her eyes land on the man in question, her expression falls.

“No.” her voice turns grave, much to your panic. “(Y/N), don’t you dare even think about it.”

You widen your eyes in confusion, searching her face to find clues if she were just joking - but her expression remains serious. “Why?” you ask her. “Who is he?”

“That’s Jay Jung,” she tells you, grasping your hands. “Better known as Jung Jaehyun. He’s next in line for the position of CEO for Jung & Associates, you know, that really famous law firm? They’re a family full of lawyers - they come from old money, (Y/N), they’re extremely powerful. They’re not here to play dress-up like the rest of us.” 

You furrow your brows. You’ve heard about Jung & Associates before in fleeting conversations. Always on the topic of them winning innumberal cases and trials, or articles that litter your ears during outings of his father merging with and overpowering other law firms. You recall hearing your mother talking about Jung & Associates on the phone while you sat in the lounging area scrolling through your Twitter feed, just a few weeks ago.

“What? We come from old money as well, Irene.” you urge her on, not quite understanding her rejectful view of the man. The two of you also come from old money, Decoré and the BAE Institute have been established for generations and still continue to stick around by blood lineage, so you were unsure why she seemed so rattled by the man and his family name.

“Yes, but we’re different,” Irene pauses. “Our companies collaborate with each other, because we can, and because our environments and industries are light-hearted enough. Jung & Associates does not collaborate - they purchase the smaller companies, no matter what field of expertise the company aims for, and whether they like it or not.” She glances back towards Jaehyun, who had begun to walk back into the lounging area, walking past the plush velvet chairs. “I know that Jung Jaehyun holds the ego of five men, he thinks of himself as if he is on a pedestal.” 

You watch as the man gazes at the decorations strewn across the gallery, a flat expression gracing his angelic features. It’s quite disheartening that a man so attractive as he could possess such alleged revolting qualities - but you aren’t shocked; throughout the years of being taught by your mother on how to pull the ropes of a company as a woman, it isn’t like you’re unaccustomed to men forging their own skills in order to get to the top. You’ve learned that the hard way.

“Why does he look like that? He looks miserable.” you scoff, eyeing him as he continues to walk past an array of your mother’s guests, avoiding their widened eyes and hushed whispers. He looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else but to be present in this gala, which is a feeling you associate with, but you would never say that out loud. 

“I’m not sure, he usually has the semblance of a smile on - but that’s mostly when he’s with his brothers,” she says, watching him along with you. “It’s peculiar that he’s here by himself.” 

The faintest feeling of apprehension bubbles up in your stomach once more, but you shake it off. This man is still young, the law firm hasn’t been passed down to him yet - he’s probably just here for his own amusement and pleasure, and was wholly disappointed by the lack of fun and the droning jazz music. Whatever the case, you still find yourself unable to look away from him, taking in his beauty, finding yourself wish, just for a split second, that the rumours about him are nowhere near true. He seats himself at a table near the center of the ballroom, and his eyes flashes to yours once again, his gaze lingering on your eyes. This time, you’re the first to look away.

-----

The silk chiffon robe that adorns your body designed specifically for you by Montenero is a price that even your shoes tucked away in their own walk-in closet cannot reach. The hush humdrum of french chatter originating from people passing underneath your hotel balcony is calming to you, having growing used to the booming noises that come with residing deep within a city. October is your favourite time of year to visit Bordeaux, France, as the pesky throngs of tourists finally dwindle away and due to the sun deciding to emit heat much gentler than any other season. Even the staff of Hôtel Le Palais Gallien bear a jolly expression this time of year.

It is occasions like this when you would find yourself sojourned in this city for a breather from your hectic work life, photoshoots and fashion shows demanding your occupancy more than seventy hours per week, the cool evening air kissing your cheek bones as you breath out a blissful sigh. Just on the 7 rue Ferrere inside an old warehouse building built of cobblestones and brick, was an exhibition held by your favourite photographer, John Suh - rather than flashy ornaments strewn over sets and models posing themselves in an avant-garde manner, he always pursued natural lighting, habitual individual quirks; simplistic, comfortable, authentic. You had always wished to collaborate with him on a photoshoot, but his schedule would always turn up booked; you would have to wait years to be able to book an appointment with him.

You smooth down the slightly scrunched fabric of your lilac Rachel Parcell summer dress, leather satchel by Kate Spade in tow as you step out of the sleek black car; you had told your chauffeur to meet you at the same spot in about two hours and a half, wanting to experience the exhibition in full on your own. Journalists and cameramen have already bombarded the entrance, yelling multiple queries for you to answer, ranging from questioning your enthusiasm on the upcoming exhibition or if your mother has any plans releasing a new collection before the year ends. You are only thankful for the Tom Ford sunglasses that you pull down to perch on your nose, blocking the frantic flashing lights of cameras, making your way into the cobblestone building with the help of the doorman.

When the wooden doors close and the yells of journalist cease behind the doorways, your ears are calmed with the sound of classical music, playing faintly along the gallery. It echoes against gravel walls, the effect soothing to you, encompassed in art. The photographs, stuck against large, plain, white boards, lit with dim lighting, is your first priority, slipping your sunglasses off and perching them back on your head. You study each one, carefully, analyzing each snapshot eagerly. 

“(Y/N)!” you hear a familiar voice, and you quickly spin around, meeting the cordial eyes of your best friend’s fiancé. Seokjin strolls towards you with a casual gait in his step. “Fancy seeing you here!”

“Hello, Seokjin,” you smile and nod your head towards him. You take note of the wine glass pinched between his fingers, telling yourself to make rounds to the beverages soon. “I never took you as the person to enjoy fine arts.” you joke, watching him chuckle in response.

“I am the grandson of the guy who founded Kim Productions,” he tells you in a light tone. Seokjin’s grandfather is the chief executive of Kim Pictures, a prominent production company known by their several high-grossing films and featurettes; he doesn’t show it on his face nor in his attitude though - he is down-to-earth, which is admirable; men in this environment seem to forget their manners and morals. “However, I’m really just here to support one of my best friends.”

“You’re friends with John Suh?” you question him.

He nods, pressing his lips together which causes his cheeks to puff out slightly. “Yep!” he answers. “We went to the same university together, took the same courses and whatnot. One of the nicest men I’ve ever met. He actually goes by Johnny - he uses John to sound more professional.” 

You nod your head in understanding, attempting to keep your excitement under wraps. You couldn’t bare risking your clean repute to be tainted by pestering Kim Seokjin for a collaboration with your favourite photographer. A smile finds their way on your lips before you open your mouth again. “I’m a very big fan,” you tell him. “His pictures are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” Seokjin asks you, lifting his wine glass to his lips and taking a momentary sip. “I never took you as the type to be engrossed in photography.” 

“I am a model.” you laugh, using the same tone he had used with you prior.

“You got me there,” he jokes. “Johnny’s actually doing an interview for Aesthetica right now, but perhaps once he’s finished I can take you to meet him!” 

“Are you willing to?” you ask him, unsure if he feels as if he’s forced to do so, or if he’s genuinely happy to let you meet his good friend. He nods, an authentic smile gracing his features, and you push back the will to grin in a cheerful manner of excitement, a small, thankful smile finding its way onto your face.

It takes all for you to keep that calm, serene beam on your face though, when you finally come face to face with one of your heroes. He stands tall, taller than you would have ever imagined a person to be, with long brown locks that sway in front of his face and square shoulders that slightly protrude forward due to endless nights of editing his own photos. A knit black sweater by Valentino curtains his body, fit beige trousers covering his endless legs and ending with polished black shoes that you can see your reflection in. 

“Ah,” he says, clasping his hands together in excitement. “You’re (Y/N) (Y/L/N)! I’ve seen you in many advertisements and fashion magazines - my husband is a very big fan!” 

You are in heaven at the sound of your idol recognizing you, finally letting your excited grin show on your face as you consent to his kiss upon your knuckles. You had heard of John Suh being cheerful and pleasant through many accounts, you are aware of his philanthropic duties, constantly bringing awareness to the troubles around the world. Often does he donate the money that he’s cashed in from his projects to multiple charities - these moments seem to be the chit-chat that takes place around garden parties and other functions frequently. His husband, Chittaphon, who is known solely as Ten, is a prominent model of whom he had met during a shoot with Vogue. You remember their love story being placed on television, articles littered all over your social media; a charming model known for his playboy repute has fallen for a peaceful, relaxing photographer - their love story is something you could only dream about and desire as your own.

“I’m so excited to meet you,” you tell him, face red with enthusiasm. “I'm a very, very big fan of your works - I’ve always wished for us to collaborate.” 

He lets out a deep laugh, hand resting on his stomach. “Actually, I’ve always tried to book an appointment with you, but your manager would only tell me of dates years into the future.” 

Your jaw drops. “No way,” you let out a laugh. “I’ve been doing the same thing for you!”

The three of you, including Seokjin, converse like old college friends, quickly becoming close as you exchange laughs and slight quips; you and Johnny excitedly make plans for a shoot, promising to clear out the least important schedules in your itinerary. Wholly excited, you’ve got to owe everything to Seokjin, who was able to make this possible for you. As the event nears its end, people beginning to clear out of the warehouse, you find a new friend in Johnny, thankful for the opportunity to make acquaintance with him.

You leave briefly in the midst of the two men’s conversation about their college days to make rounds to the beverages, letting the server pour domaine de la romanée-conti into your wine glass, letting the heavenly liquid attack your taste buds and closing your eyes in delight. The knowledge of your mother not being present with you, having stayed behind in Seoul to run the reigns of the company building thusly not breathing down your neck to keep your eyes open for a potential future husband, is something equivalent to freedom. You listen to classical music playing softly along the gallery for a few seconds, Franz Schubert absorbing into your eardrums, before opening your eyes to find your way back to Johnny and Seokjin. 

You only find yourself frozen when your eyes open to familiar ones staring back at you. 

His hair is still an ash blond, styled much like the first time you saw him, a few loose strands escaping the net of hair gel and kissing the front of his forehead. His lips, which were pulled into a slight scowl when you had first seen them, had the slightest sight of a smirk, the corner of his lip raised faintly. He’s dressed in a fit, pressed, light grey suit by Ted Baker, Daniel Wellington watch peeking from his exposed wrist when he pulls his hand to his lips to sip from his veuve clicquot champagne. Yet, even with the details of his dress and face, you find your eyes stuck on one feature; his eyes. Never tearing from yours, his brown eyes hold an emotion that you cannot decipher. 

It takes you a nanosecond to shake yourself out of your trance, averting your eyes away from his gaze as you pivot on your heel, making your way back through the gallery towards Seokjin and Johnny. You are unsure as to why Jaehyun is here, much like the first time you had seen him at your mother’s galal; you recall Irene talking about his personality and morals, he does not seem like the type to enjoy fine arts. A heat crawls up your neck upon realizing how you must have looked like a deer in headlights upon meeting his eyes, cursing at yourself for being so brash with your staring, feeling the heat cloud your cheeks when you realize he probably must have recognized you from the first time you had seen him - there is no way he will not recognize you now. 

“There you are,” Johnny says, raising his glass when you return. “I was starting to think you had gotten lost. I was going to ask one of my guards to search for a short woman in lilac!”

You shake your head fervently, bubbling up a laugh that didn’t sound so nervous much to your favour. “No, no,” you smile, letting out a sigh in attempt to let go of what had just happened. “I just got distracted.”

You will yourself to catch up on the conversation that you had missed while you were stuck staring into the umber eyes of Jung Jaehyun, but it is all that you could think about, finding yourself falling quiet and finding interest in the way the wine in your glass swirls. The two men did not really notice as they were in deep conversation, and you did not mind. Hushed under your thoughts, their voices become familiar enough for you to decipher - until a new voice began to cut through a conversation. 

“Brother,” a deep, booming baritone voice sounds, and you grip the stem of your wine glass with tension. You glance upwards, Jaehyun right in front of you now, hand on Johnny’s shoulder, whose entire body has gone stiff. His eyes are cast at Johnny, deftly avoiding yours. Brother?, you wonder. They are related? “Father called, he’s had a flight booked for the both of us back to Seoul tonight. We should get going now.”

“Jaehyun, it seems as if you do not understand that this is my exhibition,” Johnny turns to the slightly shorter man. He seems to visibly relax but his fist that hangs loose on his side is still clenched. “It will be rude of me to leave the guests that came to support me so early. You go on that flight. I can handle my own payments, I’ll catch the next flight out.”

Jaehyun huffed, his jaw clenching. From a distance, he was beautiful, but up close, he looks unreal; his lips much plumper and skin similar to porcelain, spotless. You look towards Seokjin, unsure of how to act, but even the confident, humorous man finds solace in staring into his wine glass. “These are father’s orders,” Jaehyun tells him, voice authoritative. “He wants us home by tonight.”

“And we will be,” Johnny says through a grit smile. “I’ll just be late. Please, Jaehyun; tonight is my night. Don’t let your family business ruin this for me as well.”

You are confused as you listen to them, still reeling from the information that you had uncovered that Johnny and Jaehyun are related to each other. Your family business, you repeat in your head. He words his sentence as if he was not a part of the family, and judging by his body language, it seems as if that is what he wishes. Your thoughts are interrupted when Jaehyun lets out a loud sigh, eyes dark as he glares at Johnny. He backs away without a word, before he pivots on his heel, and in a fleeting moment his eyes lock with yours; you suck in a breath as the nanosecond passes you by. His lips, this time, do not form into a smirk, but are pressed into a thin line. Withdrawing back into the crowd, he is the first to tear his eyes away. 

“Sorry about him,” Johnny breathes after a few moments of silence, perching the glass of wine atop a table beside him. He reaches to scratch the back of his neck, grimacing. “My brother is not usually like that. It’s just... he’s stressed about the law firm.”

You nod, listening intently, hoping for Johnny to continue into a discussion about his relation to Jaehyun, wanting to know more about the Jung family, desiring answers to the questions that you have conjured in your brain, but he does not mention it again after that. As the night comes to a close, you have already eased up from the short moment you shared with the enigmatic man; as the night comes to a close, you find yourself exchanging numbers with Johnny, proving him to be a friend you will keep for a long time; as the night comes to a close, the dark, impenetrable eyes that lingers on your form is something you stay oblivious to.

-----

The heat of the Philippine sun beating into your skin is nothing short of pleasant, the scent of salt water lacing its way into your nostrils. The grains of sand that dig into your skin bears no competition to the softness of your carpeted bedroom floors back home You are in paradise; actually, you are in Cebu, Philippines, tanning underneath the blazing sun in Plantation Bay, which is most possibly the closest to paradise you will ever meet. It is after you and Irene had finished volunteering at a children’s center situated in the middle of Cebu City, finding solace in making friends with the children and helping them with whatever you could. Children have always been a soft spot for you, you absolutely adored them and were a natural with handling them, so you jumped at the chance to experience this when Irene father had brought it up in conversation with the both of you. 

“There is a live band playing tonight at the Palermo restaurant,” says Irene, voice deafened by the loud crashing of the ocean waves in front of you as well as the clamorous yelling of children and other people staying in the resort around the pool area. “We should check it out. It’s been a while since I’ve heard music other than jazz and classical being played live.” 

You nod, agreeing to her plans, before the two of you rest in peaceful silence once more, taking in the heat of the sun. You find yourself hours later, in the hotel room that the two of you shared, placing a Salina crop top by Reformation atop your Burberry printed bikini top, and high waisted denim shorts you had acquired from a fast fashion brand while scavenging through one of the malls. Placing some lip gloss and mascara on before ensuring that Irene was ready, the both of you eagerly leave to head to the ground floor, where the restaurant is situated. 

As soon as you step foot into the restaurant, the air is filled with nothing but of music and the smell of savoury foods. You had acquired a taste for many of the dishes, finding it fitting to your tastes, so you were excited to have a full meal and enjoy some music that night. A band composed of four people stand atop a panel, jamming out to local music, people singing along joyfully, which makes you grin in delight. You do not know how to speak in Bisaya, knowing only a few short phrases here and there, but the tune is familiar to you, and so you hum along. 

You and Irene sit in one of the tables on the elevated level of the restaurant, just a few more feet away from the band, enjoying a space that isn’t so crowded. 

“Seokjin tells me that he took you to meet Johnny Suh at his photography exhibition in Bordeaux,” she mentions to you after the waitress had left with your orders. “Tell me, how did it feel meeting your hero?”

“It was amazing,” you giggled, recalling the feeling of meeting someone you had looked up to that happened just a mere few weeks ago. “We actually became good friends - we have our own group chat and everything. Tell Seokjin I said thank you, he’s such a kind man.”

Irene laughs, waving you off. “Anything else interesting that happened on that trip?” she asks. “Hooked up with any French boys? I heard that the hotel you stayed in proves to be a beautiful place to have sex.”

You roll your eyes at her as you take a sip of your water. “No, Irene, I did not bone anyone,” you tell her as she snickers. You suddenly recollect memories of meeting Jaehyun’s eyes; the mere thought sends jolts to run through your nerves. “However, Jaehyun was there.”

“Really?” Irene asks, wonder on her face, before she let out a gasp, bringing her hands to her cheeks as she grimaces. “Goodness, my apologies, I forgot to mention that Johnny and Jaehyun are half-brothers, how could I forget!” she seems to beat herself up momentarily but then calms. “Did anything happen with him?”

You gulp down the urge to tell her about his intense staring. “Not anything special,” you lie. “He and Johnny got into a heated discussion about going back to Seoul, something about their father needing them back at that very moment. However, Jaehyun left before it could get worse.“ Irene seems to relax in her seat as you play with one of the dining utensils placed in front of you. After a few moments of silence, you open your mouth. “Irene, tell me about the Jung family. I’m curious.”

Irene seems to be taken aback from your question but hums, recalling some facts that she may know of. “From what I know, Johnny is the child of Mr. Jung’s first wife, who had left him for one of their butlers. Jaehyun, and their youngest, Jaemin, are the sons of his second, and current, wife,” she pauses. “Apparently, Mr. Jung is still furious about his first wife leaving him, which is why he promised Jaehyun, his second son, the company, instead of Johnny.”

“Oh.” you whisper, heartstrings tugging at the sad story - spite causes people to make the most hurtful actions.

“Seokjin met Johnny in university, they’re very, very good friends,” Irene continues. “From what he’s told me, Johnny and Jaehyun have always had a strained relationship - he’s unsure why, really. I guess you can tell from the way Johnny still continues to bear his mother’s last name. Anyways, Seokjin told me that it was never Johnny’s dream to run a law firm, and when Mr. Jung appointed Jaehyun as the next chief executive officer, the hateful tension between them raised a little bit more.”

“Why?” you find yourself engrossed in the story, waiting for her to tell you more about the Jung family, but she shakes her head. 

Irene sighs. “I’m afraid this is where my knowledge reaches its end,” she says, and you will yourself not to pout, relishing in the newfound information. “Why do you want to know about the Jung family so much, though? Don’t tell me you’ve taken an interest in Jaehyun, (Y/N); he’s devious, please remember that.”

You shake your head fervently, heat rising up your neck. “No! No, of course not,” you tell her, waving your arms in front of your face. “I was just curious as to why he was so snippy. It was quite rude, really, to see him talking down on his brother like that at his own exhibition.”

She hums in response, not quite believing your tale, but your orders arrive before she could say anything else. The two of you enjoy your meal and converse, talking up a storm like the two of you usually do whenever together. When you are halfway into your meal, the calamares fritos proving heavenly to your stomach, Irene stands from her chair with her purse, excusing herself to the bathroom. You nod, letting her go as you continue to eat your meal alone, instead, facing the screen of your phone. Woefully finishing your meal before Irene can return, you take this time to relish in the atmosphere. The music, now traded for a softer sound with velvety guitars and smooth bass, calms the environment, people around you had went from a jovial bellowing to conversing calmly in their circle groups. To your right is a panoramic window that is painted over with watercolour. You study each stroke as you rest your chin on top of your hand. 

“Excuse me, miss,” the waitress’ hushed voice catches your attention, and you turn towards her. “Domaine de la romanée-conti, from the gentleman at the bar.”

You nod your head at her in thanks, curiously accepting the glass of wine. She sets it down on the table in front of you, and you are stumped. Domaine de la romanée-conti is your favourite, and although it was commonplace in many wine enthusiasts’ palates and collections, it was very expensive to purchase. You look around the restaurant, hoping to catch sight of whomever had, not only splurged their money on you, but had correctly guessed your favoured vin dus pays, eyes dashing around each individual until you land on a gaze that causes your breath to hitch.

His smirk is more distinctive now, even under the dim lights of the restaurant. His ash blond hair was not slicked back this time, instead swept aside on his forehead in messy layers. He is dashing even in casual attire, Commes des Garçons fit on his upper body, short sleeves revealing the veins that run through his muscular arms and tight black jeans that capture every curve of his thighs. The look was appalling to you, having grown used to seeing him clad in nothing but expensive suits - but even when you bite back the gasp from seeing him in the area, your eyes are still locked on his. 

He grabs the glass that he had situated in front of him, filled with veuve clicquot, before standing up from his chair and approaching you. Your eyes never leave his; you still cannot pinpoint the emotions stirring inside them, even when he takes his seat in front of you. 

“It’s funny that we see each other so often, but we still have yet to introduce ourselves to each other,” he starts, the voice you had heard almost booming at Johnny’s exhibition a few weeks ago is at a much gentler tone now. He reaches his hand over the table, expecting you to grab it. “My name is Jung Jaehyun, of Jung & Associates.”

You stare at his hand for a few seconds, not knowing whether you should accept it or not. You interrogate yourself in your thoughts, recalling Irene several warnings; but his gaze is far too intense for you to reject it - and even then, you do not wish for sour feelings between the both of you; even if Jaehyun’s moral compass was wrong, you know Decoré would be ruined the day you decide to act antagonistic towards him. You reach your hand over the table as well, taking his and shaking it lightly, memorizing the smoothness of his hands.

“I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” your voice is kind, sending him a smile. You remember the time you had given Wong Lucas the same tone and face when he thought he could have a chance with you; it’s almost deja vu when you send it towards Jaehyun - almost. “It’s very nice to meet you, Jaehyun.”

“Same to you,” he begins, a charming smile on his face. He has dimples, and you gulp as your breathing begins to falter. “I know that we met at my older brother, Johnny’s, exhibition, and I just wanted to clear up any misunderstandings you might have from my character that night. I’m sure we can try again, right? A friend of Johnny’s is a friend of mines.”

You press your lips into a thin line; when he’s dressed in casual attire, he takes the appearance of a casual, everyday boy, someone you might have met in college, someone in a different social class - someone authentic and normal, yet he still has the same intensity that he holds in suits worth millions by Hemsworth, even in comfortable clothing. “Of course we can,” you tell him, to which he relaxes, a wider grin displaying on his face and urging the dimple on his cheeks to form deeper. “Thank you for the domaine de la romanée-cont, by the way, it’s my favourite.”

“Just a lucky guess,” Jaehyun smiles at you. “I remember that was the drink you held both times we came across each other.” 

You ignore the feeling of your heart slightly skipping a beat, gulping down a sip of the wine down your throat; Irene’s voice is booming within your head now. “You have a very good memory, Jaehyun.” you say, taking a sip of the sauvignon, the familiar taste flooding your tastebuds. 

“Just the important things,” he says, chuckling to himself as he takes a sip of his champagne. “So, what brings you to the island of Cebu?”

He talks to you so casually, but his eyes drip with intention, staring into your own eyes and unending; it was as if he was mocking you - mocking the lack of power you had compared to him. “My friend, Irene, and I volunteered at an orphanage in Cebu City,” you tell him, setting the glass of wine down in front of you. “What about you, Jaehyun? Are you following me?”

Your eyes widen when you hear the words fall past your own lips, bringing a hand to your mouth in shock as you yell blasphemous words inside your head. You watch his face, waiting for his reaction to your rudeness, but he just lets out a lighthearted laugh, eyes forming into crescents as he bellows out whimsical notes. “I’m actually here for a business venture,” he tells you after his laughter calms down. “But perhaps I should be the one asking that question, hm, (Y/N)?” 

His voice is teasing, a smirk playing on his lips; you swallow your words instead trading them for nervous giggles. “Maybe we just have the same mind, and similar thoughts.” you tell him, adding a small smile at the end of your sentence, looking directly into his eyes. He raises his eyebrows for a nanosecond, as if an expression of surprise took over his face, before he lets out a deep chuckle.

“I hope so,” he says with a simper, voice slightly deafened from the sounds of guitars and basses reverberating off the walls of Palermo. Just as you open your mouth reply, his phone emits a loud ringtone from his pocket, causing him to tear his eyes off of you. He digs for his phone from his jeans pocket, glancing at his screen and seeing his face fall for a split second before he stands up. “I’m afraid our conversation might have to end early. It was nice seeing you here, (Y/N). I hope we can meet again soon.”

You ignore the slight disappointment emerging from the bottom of your throat, taking in a deep breath. “The same to you, Jung Jaehyun,” your voice is hushed. He nods once, smile bright but brown eyes concentrated, a juxtapositioned expression. His action is delayed, eyes lingering on your for one more second, before he pivots on his heel and marches towards the doors of the restaurant. After watching his retreating figure through the glass doors walk around the corner, you let out a sigh of relief, looking down at the glass of wine he had purchased for you, the liquid now sitting near the bottom. You question yourself on the emotions you felt while conversing with him, chalking it up as a side-effect of constant travelling and having no sleep. 

“Hey, sorry, I’m back, Seokjin called,” your best friend finally reappears, taking her seat in the seats Jaehyun had been in just a few mere seconds ago. Before she turns to hang the sling of her purse on the backrest of the chair, she notices your half-drunk wine glass and eyes you with sharpened eyes. “Started drinking without me, hm?” she quips.

You simply just let out a laugh, fingers twirling the stem of the wine glass as you avoid Irene’s gaze, terrified of her knowing, because you cannot form words. Not when the only image that lingers in your mind is the enigma of Jung Jaehyun’s breathtaking, umber eyes burning into yours.

-----

If you had to pinpoint out the few days you dreadfully loath in a year, you would pick the days Fashion Week is active. 

It is not that you dislike Milan; it is an alluring, beautiful, celebrated city, with copious choices of museums such as the Sforzesco Castle, architecture and cobblestone roads rather gothic yet stunningly vibrant and electrifying, and how could you possibly forget the beautiful view of the Navigli and Darsena districts when the lanterns are lit the moment the stars come out, the sight alone bringing back memories of European romance movies and dialogue to begin playing in your mind. It is a beautiful, wonderful city - but just the name being simply uttered, along with New York, Paris, and London, brings flashbacks that you would rather avert.

The warmth of the sunlight spilling through the crème curtains would usually leave you energized and ready for the oncoming day, yet, somehow, it only puts a kink in your attitude as you groan dismally, longing for just a few more hours of sleep. Perhaps it was your alarm tone whose snooze button you kept missing everytime you would reach for the device, the obnoxious tone emitting constantly, or perhaps it was the horde of screaming stylists and the feeling of your manager pulling your legs out of bed, but you couldn’t bare to close your eyes again and instead of the smile you often wear on your risen face, a slight scowl plays on your lips. Sitting up on your plush mattress with knotted muscles, your stylists have already begun to pull you out of bed, along with your cries of lament. You had barely even rubbed your eyes to rid of the rheum that lined your eyelashes from your few hours of sleep before they had forced you down in a makeup chair, pressuring you to look at yourself in a circular mirror lined with LED lights.

Oh, how horrid, you thought. 

This years theme was Bridal, much to your mother’s dismay - she had believed in an old superstition that wearing a wedding dress before you even have the chance to get married only brings bad luck in your love life; but after she had seen the paycheck that would be wired into her account after you walk down the runway, her mind seemed to forget about the superstition altogether. You eyed the several pimples that had found their way onto your forehead in scrutiny, knowing that the makeup artist will most likely opt for a lighter look to fit the theme. 

“Don’t worry, the pieces you will be wearing will take the attention away from your newfound friends.” a teasing, familiar voice makes their way into your ears as you feel two hands resting on your shoulders. You perk up at the voice and look past your reflection to see Johnny’s friendly face, grinning ear to ear as he laughs at his own joke. Rolling your eyes, you lightly slap his hand on your right shoulder, cracking your first smile of the day. 

“I didn’t know you were coming, Johnny!” you exclaimed, turning around to face him. He was clad in a Raf Simmons cropped sweater with black trousers by Helmut Lang, the sense of casual attire yet the prices of the simple looking fabrics were more than ostentatious. He ruffles your unstyled hair with a mischievous grin. You and Johnny have grown closer in the months since the two of you met, constantly texting each other back and forth; it has gotten to the point where you consider him a best friend, right beside Irene. “You should have texted me!”

“That would have ruined the surprise!” Johnny laughs, walking towards the table in front of you and leaning against a spot where makeup wasn’t littered everywhere. As the makeup artist begins their work on your face, laying and spreading out tones of beige and browns and the slightest hints of pink, you and Johnny converse naturally. 

“So are you the only one that came?” you ask as you watch the makeup artist brush the slightest of coral toned blush onto the apples of your cheek; you’re unsure if it is Johnny’s presence that helped you become fully awake or if it’s due to the work of the artist, but you are positively impressed with how you look so far. 

“No,” Johnny pauses while he digs through one of the bags of makeup opened on the desk. You had solicited constantly to meet Johnny’s husband, Ten, only ever hearing about him through Johnny’s own words and stories - you wanted to meet him, especially since you had heard he was a big fan of yours. You gasp in surprise at his answer, joy setting down on your shoulders when you realize you might be finally meeting your friend’s lover, but it is swept from underneath you in just milliseconds. “I brought Jaehyun with me.” 

“Jaehyun?” you repeat after a few beats, to which he nods. 

“Yep, you know, my brother,” Johnny says, an unknowing smile gracing his features when he glances at you. “He had actually told me that the two of you bumped into each other in the Philippines; he wanted to come to fashion week to support you.”

“Oh…” you respond, trailing off. “Well, that’s very nice of him.” 

“It is,” Johnny confirms, returning the nude lipstick by MAC back into the unzipped bag before digging around again. “It’s quite peculiar, really. Ever since father appointed the chair to Jaehyun, he’s been… quite antagonistic towards me, but ever since his trip to the Philippines, he’s been… alright. Perhaps the merger with PunoLaw went splendidly.” 

You ignore the flip that your heart makes in your chest while the makeup artist sweeps streaks of highlight upon your cheekbones; there could be a number of reasons why Jaehyun’s temperament had gotten better - a simple exchange of greeting and a purchased drink of wine means nothing in a business trip to a foreign country. 

“Johnny,” you starts off, and he hums in response. “You don’t have to answer, but… have the both of you always had bad blood?” 

“I’m sure as someone next in line for the CEO of a company, you have obligations, right?” Johnny lets out a soft sigh, his top teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he patently probes his mind for the correct words. He sets down the lipstick tube that he had been toying with and looks straight at you, a serious expression on his face. “Well… Jaehyun deals with these… obligations... differently. He’s always been a rambunctious man. He grew up thinking that the company would be passed down to me, so he didn’t care much for his own image - so when the news came out that he would be leading Jung & Associates in the future, he just… lashed out, he became slightly more antagonistic to everyone around him. He was never trained for that position, and he still doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Johnny pauses. “He’s just afraid.”

“Ah…” you hum after a short pause, your voice hanging in the air. As next in line for the executive position for Decoré, you are responsible in retaining your clean reputation; you were to be immaculate with your choices, you were expected to stay absolute and virtuous, they wished for you to hold a record that is the epitome of every parent’s wet dream. The constant demanding of these obligations, as well as the constant invariable conversations of marriage and children from your mother, takes a toll on your own wellness daily; you can never say what you truly want to say, you can never do what you truly want to do. You can never underestimate the press when they hone into your every action, words, glances and body language forged into the world with printed ink and a mass of pixels. One slip of character, and it could mean the end of the empire that your great-great grandmother had established. As you stare into the mirror, hairstylist taking over as they brush your hair with a flat comb, you think to yourself; perhaps Jung Jaehyun is just misjudged, perhaps his true reasons for his actions may not be what the media observes. Irene was not the sole heiress to her family’s fashion institute, so she does not know of the demanding expectations that comes forth with preparing for an established company to be in your hands; perhaps she heard of idle conversations of those envious and took their words of spite as gospel.

As time passes, you quickly come to when find yourself lined up backstage along with other models walking the catwalk. The show had just started, the piercing sound of classical piano music blaring through the speakers deafening to your ears as stylists make last minute touch ups on your makeup and dress. You are adorned in a beautiful metallic white dress by Valentino; the top made entirely of chiffon, with a low cut neckline, diamonds formed to cover your chest area. The skirt, made of tulle fabric, is decorated with strewn diamonds, every move you make sending each jewel to swing, making it look as if you had just bathed in a pool of gems. The billowy sleeves are also strewn with diamonds, you can already see the brilliant reflections of light against the harsh LED bulbs above. 

Your hair is pulled back into a braided low bun, your veil, attached to the bottom of your bun, trails behind you for meters, acting like a cape.; you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you draw closer towards the front of the line. You suck in a deep breath; you’ve walked countless runways in the past, it’s like a fluent language to you - straight back, intense eyes, just an inkling of attitude - yet, your mind seems to be in a haze, and you can comprehend exactly why. As the last model before you makes her way back behind the stage, you close your eyes momentarily, letting out a puff of hair, before setting off through the doors. 

Your fists relax, hands swaying by your side as the bright lights pointed towards the catwalk causes your dress to glimmer in ways you would only predict ever seeing in fantasy movies. You keep your face monotonous, taking in the audience’s gasps of delight and pleasure at the sight of your dress, the familiar sounds of cameras clicking over and over again proving louder than the booming violins blaring through the speakers. Your lips are flat, and expression featureless as you make your way to the very front of the catwalk - this is the dress’s show, and not yours. You see Johnny in the audience, camera in hand as he takes a few shots of your walk, but it is the man beside him that causes your eyes to slightly widen.

He looks far too beautiful, as if he should be the one walking the runway. His ash blonde hair is slicked back but in the way as if he had forked his dry fingers through his locks rather than wet with gel. He is dressed in a suit made of crushed velvet, also by Valentino, trousers highlighting the curves of his thighs, a pure black button up shirt underneath his velvet blazer. The people seated around him were focused on observing him and attempting to catch his attention rather than to give their attention to the piece that you displayed for them; but he - not paying one glance to your gown, not one glimpse to the veil that flowed behind you, not even regarding the rude chatter emitting around him sparked by his presence - keeps his eyes gazing into yours.

The feeling alone is enough to make you lose your breath, the sight of his deep, teasing eyes causing you to open your mouth slightly, urging you losing track of where you were supposed to be. But just as your lips lightly part, you force them closed in panic of feeling your muscles twitch at the movement; you watch as an amused smile plays his lips, before he crosses his arms over his chest. You tear your eyes away from his, pivoting on your heel as you make your way to the back behind the stage - but even through the chiffon fabric of your veil, you can feel the all-too familiar feeling of Jung Jaehyun’s eyes lingering on your form.

The after party is far too congested to your liking, and even though the air was rich with air conditioning, your skin feels moist to the touch after having to weave your way through hordes of people dancing and chatting with each other. You had traded in the wedding dress that you wore for a shorter light pink chiffon dress by Valentino that ended right before your knees, your feet are already sore from the heels that you’ve been wearing the entire day. You wonder if Johnny might be present at this party too, but you aren’t sure if you’re willing to weave deeper into the venue through more crowds nor are you sure if your feet have enough vitality for a couple more steps. 

“Leaving early?” a distinctive voice causes you to halt before you can walk through the exit. You turn your head, ready to face impact before facing Jaehyun. He has a small smile on his face, cradling a coca-cola can in his hand. “If so, can I leave with? I lost Johnny in the crowd.”

A smile appears on your lips. “Johnny is over six feet tall, I find it hard to believe that you lost him, Jung Jaehyun,” you tell him, quirking your eyebrow, to which he lets out a chuckle, glancing down at his coca-cola. “But yes, you may join.”

The next few minutes are a flurry of exchanges with the guards at the door and retrieving your coats from the lobby. As you walk through the exit doorways, you can only sigh in content when the cool, December breeze kisses the clammy skin of your neck, sweat accumulated from the overcrowded afterparty. It is twelve at midnight, and the streets house only a few people walking up and down the cobblestone roads. You’re glad that your manager had packed a pair of Tory Burch flats for you in your purse, your heels finally getting the rest they need as you turn towards the direction of your hotel, but the reminder in the form of a person speaks before you could hobble off.

“How long will you be staying in Milan?” Jaehyun finds a pace in walking beside you, hands shoved into the deep pockets of his black Burberry trench coat. You take your arms and pull the front lapels of your tweed coat by Gucci. 

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning,” you tell him, looking at the streets in front of you. The stars were on display in the night sky, and lamps have lit up, dimly illuminating the roads. You can feel the heat radiating off of Jaehyun as he listens intently to you; your stomach flips with an emotion that you cannot decipher. “Mother wants me back in Seoul before she begins clearing the pieces for her collection releases by Spring. And you?” 

“I’ll be here until Tuesday,” he says, in a tone of dread, the both of you slowing down your walking pace. “Jung & Associates are establishing a branch here, I’ll just be doing the finalizations - then I’ll be back in Seoul.” 

You look at him in surprise. “Really?” you question. “How interesting.”

“Perhaps we’ll bump into each other again on the streets of Myeong-dong.” he grins, kilowatt smile spreading across his face causing his dimples to form on his cheeks. You eye them before looking away, feeling your cheeks begin to heat up - you still had to be careful around him, you are unsure as to what his true character is really like. 

You let out a hum. “You know what, Jung Jaehyun?” you start off in a hesitant teasing tone, unsure of how to interact with him; you didn’t want to accidentally set him off, in case Irene was actually correct with her hypothesis, however, you weren’t sure if Johnny was telling the truth either, details far too vague for your liking. “I’m starting to think you’re actually following me.” 

He lets out an amused puff of air as the two of you round a corner, the Navigli canal coming into view, lit up by the streetlamps that litter beside it; it was breathtaking scenery, it never fails to cause your heartbeat to quicken whenever you catch sight of it - everything about the view is romantic. He walks towards the body of water, strolling to the concrete railing. He halts, growing silent, eyes fixated on the number of stars illuminating the night sky. Even through all the dim light posts, you are still able to see the glimmering spots shining outside of the Earth’s atmosphere. You watch the back of Jaehyun’s head as he shoves his hands inside the pockets of his coat. Hesitantly, you approach him, coming to a pause beside him just as you see the profile of his face; his eyes are trained solely on the stars, the ghost of a smile teasing his lips. Turning your head to look at the stars with him, the both of you stay in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“Sometimes,” you’re the first to break the silence, eyes still training on the stars. “Whenever I stroll past this canal, I envision those classic movies filmed in Europe; a confession of love near the body of water, a kiss in the rain surrounded by romantic architecture.” 

You are unsure as to why those are the first words that fall past your lips, but you let out a dreamy sigh, scenes of Audrey Hepburn to Marilyn Monroe, recollecting portrayals of old-school love play in your mind. Jaehyun looks away from the sky, switching his gaze towards you, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“You yearn for love?” he questions you, and you giggle softly, crossing your arms over your chest as a chilling breeze kisses your neck. 

“Doesn’t everyone?” you question him, eyes trailing along the gothic architecture of the streets of Milan. “I’ve dreamt of it since I was a little girl, but everyday, it seems as if my chance at finding it grows more impossible.” 

Jaehyun is silent for a few seconds, you can still feel his eyes lingering on your face. “And what if you’ve already found your love?”

You gulp, biting down on your bottom lip. Your eyes cast downwards towards the body of water before you open your mouth. You aren’t sure why, but your heartbeat bangs against your chest painfully, and your ears are heating up despite the fact that the air is chilly. You let out a sigh, fog of condensation escaping your lips. “I mustn’t.”

“Why not?” 

“Because my mother will defy the man I choose,” you pause, a pitiful smile finding its way onto your face. “I know that I will be forced to marry someone from her inner circle to ensure Decoré’s future. I don’t have a choice in this matter anyway,” you let out a chuckle before turning to him, his eyes training on yours. “The position comes with disadvantages, and it makes me rethink my options even though I’ve ached to lead Decoré all my life.”

“But that does not mean you shouldn’t live,” he trails off. “Just because your life is led by responsibility… doesn’t mean you should avoid love.” 

“There’s no other way, Jaehyun,” you tell him. You extract your hands from deep within the pockets of your tweed coat and press your palms again the concrete railing before you form them into fists. “I’m sure that you understand as well, your company is being handed down to you - you have an image to uphold, right?”

He grows silent. “Yes, I do.” 

“Love is a risk that I’d rather not make.” you say. You have dated in the past, once in middle school, with a boy named Jeon Jungkook, a short relationship that lasted for only three days, and your first year in college, with a boy named Kim Mingyu, which lasted deftly for eight months - both relationships, of which, weren’t serious at all. Kim Mingyu was your first kiss, and first time; you remember the crushing disappointment at the lack of sparks that flew between the both of you each time your bodies were pressed against each other. Additionally, your name has been caught in multiple articles since the beginning of forging your model career that articulated dating rumours with you and innumerable celebrities and other of the elite class, all of which had been false. The feedback that you received during those times were immensely painful for you, and you worked hard to keep your reputation clear since then.

“But life, itself, is a risk. Is it not?” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed, but his eyes are not directed towards you, instead training on the Gothic buildings situated opposite from where you are standing, on the other side of the canal. You press your lips into a straight line, furrowing your eyebrows together as you think of his sentence, not knowing how to reply.

As you open your mouth to finally answer, a familiar tone emits through the air. He reaches into the pocket of his coat and grabs his vibrating phone, letting out a sigh when his eyes land on the screen of his phone. Turning to you, he outstretches a hand towards you for you to shake, a gracious smile on his face, dimples in full view, but his eyes are still dull. You take your hand and enclose your fingers around his, deja-vu as you memorize the warmth of his skin around your cold hands, before weakly shaking his fist.

“I have to go,” Jaehyun says, putting his phone back into his pocket, not accepting the call. You find that peculiar, but it is not your business, so you do not press. “I’ll see you when I get back to Seoul?” 

You smile at him, nodding your head. “Yes,” you tell him. “I’ll see you then.”

And as you turn to part ways, he lingers his gaze on you only for a second more, before pivoting on his heel. Just outside the doors of your hotel that you stayed in while in Milan, the only image that clouds your mind is of the last gaze that he had given you, almost certain that he held longing in his pupils, and as you think of the lasting image that haunts your brain, you are reminded of your heart beating wildly against your ribcage, this time, accompanied with the slight excitement that rises in the pit of your stomach.

-----

The cool, frigid, January air laces into the studio, entirely made of hard concrete, excluding the various set pieces spread around the area. You lay on top of a long, woven seat, bare legs, hair standing up in defense of the chilly breeze, hanging off the side of the arm rest. You are draped in only an oversized, pure-white shirt, the fabric blanketing your sighs and sleeves barely able to hang onto your shoulder; clickings of camera ensue, underneath the humming bass of the Frank Ocean song blaring through the speakers. Today was the day you had finally scheduled your photoshoot with Johnny, eager for the outcome as you let your head slightly hand from the other side of the woven seat.

“Point your chin just a bit upwards, (Y/N),” Johnny tells you from off the set. Johnny uses a particular method of photography, using natural lighting from outside to create an authentic ambience in his photos - the only window in the studio was a large, panoramic one that had the most beautiful view of the garden. His studio is located on the Jung premises, in its own little estate behind the main house; when you had walked through the main gates you had felt completely intimidated by the domineering aura of the house, much larger than your own - it took up nearly two football fields,  and it was then when you realized how powerful this family really is. “Okay, there, perfect!”

The humming of the bass of songs emitting from Johnny’s playlist as well as the clicks of his film camera are the only sounds that emit between the both of you as you try out different poses, boudoir poses come naturally to you. Johnny had given you one of his own shirts to use as clothing, the oversized fabric hanging off you loosely. A break ensues halfway through the shoot, at five p.m., almost three hours since you had begun posing. The sun has already set an hour ago, winter nights a longer span than winter mornings, and you desperately had the urge to pee, having downed an entire bottle of water before the shoot due to your adrenaline.

“Hey, Johnny?” you ask while he reviews his photos. He looks up towards you in curiosity, letting out a hum of acknowledgement. “Where’s the bathroom?” 

“Oh,” he says, setting his camera down before he begins to use charades as a way to give you the directions. “Down the hall, on the third left, fifth door on the right side. If you want, the lower bathroom is a lot more cleaner.” 

“No, it’s alright,” you let out a laugh, before walking out of the studio. When one would say the Jung Estate was big; it was big. Multiple hallways and multiple doors make up the interior of the estate, and it wasn’t even the main house on the Jung premises - this estate was only slightly smaller in size compared to the large castle-like structure that stood before the front gates. It seemed a little silly to you - who needs this many rooms? You were almost sure that Johnny and Ten, who you finally had the fortunate chance of meeting earlier that afternoon, were the only two who resided in this house - yet it’s so vastly empty, not even one inkling of a server or butler. 

You follow the directions that Johnny had given you just a few minutes ago to no attempt because before you know it, you are lost in a daze of paintings and golden decals. He said third right, right?, you thought to yourself as you look around. You weren’t even sure which direction your had come from, the diminishing sunlight from outside beginning to darken the hallways. You let out a sigh as you take a chance, figuring that if you were wrong anyways, you’d just be greeted to an empty room and you’d have to force your bladder to not erupt for a few more minutes until you’d finally find the bathroom. You push a large, mahogany door open, the creaking reverberating off the marble walls of the hallway, and then you pause.

“Jesus, Johnny, can’t you knock?” his voice seems aggravated while he’s hunched over a desk, face buried into a stack of paper. “I told you, I’m doing paperwork right now. I’m b-” 

His eyes automatically widen when he looks up towards the door, eyes snapping to yours. A plane of glass covers his eyes, entwined with a golden frame as they perch neatly on his nose, ash blonde hair in messy ruffles, obviously having had his fingers run through them numerous times throughout the night. He wears a simple, basic, white button up shirt, with simple black trouser bottoms, the most casual attire you have ever seen him wear; yet, he still looked stunning. However, his eyes are boring right at you, the pen in his hand freezing from writing letters as his pupils begin to slowly move down your body.

“Jaehyun,” you finally let out a breath, stammering as you slowly back away from the doorway. “Sorry, oh my gosh, I’m doing a shoot with Johnny right now and I was trying to find the bathroom… um, I got lost.” 

His jaw visibly clenches and you see his adam’s apple bob against his throat before standing up and lightly swipes his hands on his thighs. “Don’t worry about it, I just got taken aback.” he gulps, as he begins to walk towards you, adjusting the glasses that perch on his nose. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

Your face immediately flushes, eyes, if not already at their widest, widen even more as you let out a gasp. You have never felt a fabric of clothing cause your stomach to explode in your life, yet, for some reason, that was the only feeling you could muster as you feel the fabric of Jaehyun’s shirt brush against your thighs. “I’m sorry,” you apologize once more, letting out a breathy laugh. “I didn’t know this was your shirt. Johnny said it was his.” 

He lets out an amused puff of air. “The nerve of that man, he still continues to steal my clothing for props,” he shakes his head, tsking. “Here, I can show you where the bathroom is - this house has so many unneeded rooms, it’s silly.” 

You follow him through the corridors; the sun had already set completely, the moon now shining above that casts into the hallways through the lined windows. The sound of Jaehyun’s shoes swiping against the floor and the dull sounds of the pads of your feet hitting the marble flooring is the only noise heard in the air between you both, your face still sprinkled with hues of red from the feeling of the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt brushing past your thighs. He walks you into the other hall across from where you had opened the door to his room, and stops right in front of a door similar to the ones around it. 

“Here you are,” he says, pivoting on his heel and pushing the door to the bathroom open, the door creaks as it slightly cracks ajar. You let out a sigh of relief, grinning at him. “You just turned the wrong way, but fortunately you found me, or else you’d probably still be lost in the hallways.” 

“Thank you, Jaehyun.” you tell him graciously, pulling the front of the shirt you are wearing to make sure that your sleeves don’t slip past your shoulders and show them bare. He gives you a silent nod before he begins to walk back to his study room, but you gasp and grab his hand, slightly pulling him back, to which he freezes, turning towards you. 

“What is it?” he asks you, eyebrows furrowed in concern. You are only thankful that the hallways are dim, you can practically feel the heat of your cheeks radiating off your skin. 

“S-Sorry,” you stammer; you seem to be apologizing to Jaehyun repeatedly that night.“I didn’t mean to touch you - that was really rude of me. It’s just… can you wait? Um, I don’t know how to get back to the studio and it’s… really dark, and the hallways are slightly creepy.” 

His worry sets on his face for only a second longer before his lips form into a small smile, eyes forming into slight crescents as he nods. “Of course,” he says. He rests his back against the wall beside the door to the bathroom. “I’ll be right here.” 

You give him a grateful smile before walking into the doors of the bathroom - you first catch yourself in the mirror, face a deep shade of red as you inwardly cringe at how fast the boy had taken you off guard. Slapping your hands on your cheeks in an attempt to calm your heartbeat panging against your ribcage, you let out a few gasps of air. Washing your hands before opening the door again, you only will yourself to keep your stance calm and cool around Jaehyun, but you know that will all crash to the floor the moment you turn the doorknob.

When you step out, you see that Jaehyun is still waiting beside the door, his back pressed against the wall as his thumbs swipe at the screen of his phone. At the crack of light that emitted from within the bathroom, he finally looks up at you with a smile, turning the screen of his phone off with a click and standing upright. You are unsure of what to say, words seem to be caught stuck in your throat every time you look at him. 

“I can walk you to Johnny’s studio,” he lets out a laugh as he shoves his phone into the pocket of his trousers before he runs his hands through his hair, ash blonde locks falling onto his forehead one by one. “I never thought you’d be the type to be afraid of the dark, (Y/N).”

Again, you are unsure of what to say, only letting a giggle fall past your lips in response. Fortuitously, your stomach seems to be dashing around in circles as you watch his eyes trained on yours, shadows of the corridor darkening the edges of his face and the pale moonlight from outside causing his cheekbones to come out even more angular. His eyes are darker than ever, as he watches you, and even though it is dim, you are almost sure the corner of his lips twitch upright. Your breath hitches in your throat and in blushing panic, and so you twirl around, hoping for him to simply catch on and lead you back towards the studio - but his booming, baritone voice, much like the first time you had heard him speak at Johnny’s exhibition in October, causes your step to falter.

“Are you going to do something with the way you look at me?” 

It’s ironic how the weight of a few words can change the entire dynamic of an established acquaintanceship; merely a pin dropping on the ground and detonating into flames to burn down the walls that had already been put up, built with blocks composed with intimidated hesitance and lethal attraction. The inflection of his voice weaved through the air like a ribbon made of silk before devouring your nerves, sending jolts through your body in ripples, breath becoming hitched in your throat as an all too familiar emotion that you’ve been forcing to push down, that you’ve coaxed yourself into feeling mystified about, begins to rise in the pit of your stomach. His words echo through the long, dark corridors before they come to a halt, silence seducing the air between your bodies, but you stay frozen, and your lips stay unmoving. You hear him step closer, the heel of his shoes slightly clicking against the marble flooring, and it sends waves through your body again.

“(Y/N).” his voice is low, stern, the same voice you had heard the night you had heard him speak at Johnny’s photography exhibition.

Your breath shakes when you finally part your lips. “Yes, Jaehyun?” you stammer. 

“Answer my question.” he whispers. He stands close, you can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric that drapes your body. The tension that dances between the both of you is thick, emotions of both excitement and yearning burning in your chest. You feel his breath on the back of your neck, and it urges you to squeeze your thighs together to combat the aching need between your legs. 

“I should be the one asking you that, Jung Jaehyun, since you practically fuck me with your eyes every time we meet.” the tone of your voice is surprising to you when it falls past your lips, your hand snapping to your mouth as you widen your eyes - you hear him chuckle lightly behind you just seconds before you feel the pads of his fingers dance on the back of your neck, gently moving your hair onto one shoulder. 

“I didn’t know you were capable of speaking like that,” his voice juxtaposes his actions, laced with intent. He presses his warm hands against the white fabric on your collarbone before he slides it down to bare your shoulder, the cool air of the corridors causing your thin hairs to stand up. “Always so polite and careful, I wanna know what other noises fall past those pretty lips of yours.”

He roughly turns you around, as if a switch were flipped inside him - it’s only now when you have taken in how tall he was, even if he were slightly shorter than Johnny, his physique was large compared to yours, and that excites you. His umber eyes penetrated yours as he takes his glasses off and sets them on the top of his head before he uses his forefinger and thumb to force you to look at him, proud smirk playing on his lips. His domineering attitude, and your want for challenge - they both crash together like fire, flames licking at each other to create even larger chaos. As you gaze into his eyes, breath rattling your ribcage, you are finally able to discern the emotion that swam within his pupils, an emotion that had befuddled you since the first time your eyes landed on his. Desire. 

“You make me go so fucking crazy,” he whispers before his lips dart to your neck, peppering wet kisses along your jawline. You let out a gasp when he nips at the skin of your neck, the ache in your panties growing stronger every time his tongue flicks out to soothe a spot. He cradles your cheek in his hand as your lean your head back to give him more space, yearning for his touch. You feel the warmth of his hand he had used to cradle your cheek cascading down your body roughly, hovering over your breasts as he continues to lap at your neck.  “God, ever since the first time I saw you, the things I’ve been thinking about doing to you - and now here you are standing in one of my shirts, and, fuck.”

You buck your hips, cupping his cheeks as you push him away from your neck to force him to look back into your eyes - his eyes, sharp, cuts into yours, the meager sight causing an aching throb to pulsate through you once more. “Tell me the things you’ve thought about doing to me,” you whisper, tracing your thumb over the plumpness of his bottom lip, you bring him closer to your face - you feel his hot breath on your lips. “Tell me, and then do them to me.”

A sigh escaped his lips before they finally come to meet yours, enveloping yours against his own in a flurry of desperation - you hadn’t realized how much you hungered for this moment until the feeling of felicity settled within you, your longing moan dancing into his mouth. Perhaps it was his own desperation too that had been building up for months leading up to this moment, perhaps it was the sound that escaped from deep within your lungs that excited him, but his hands rush to cup your sopping panties causes a gasp to escape from your mouth. “I’ve imagined you like this,” his voice is a whisper when you pull away at the sensation of his fingers pressing against your clothed pussy. “Whimpering for me, begging for me, trying to keep yourself quiet.”

Short gasps escape from you as he continues to work against the thin fabric, adding more and more pressure as he moves his hands in circular motions. “J-Jaehyun,” you moan, trying your best to keep yourself quiet. You don’t want your whimpers to travel down the hallway and possibly lace into Johnny’s ears - the act would be mortifying to you. “What if Johnny sees us?”

“I don’t give a damn,” he grunts, hand roughly toying with your clothed clit. Your hips buck against his hand, and if it weren’t for how needy you felt, letting this man have his way with you, you’d be ashamed at how wet you’ve already become, soaking through your panties. Slowly, he moves them to the side before he glides a finger along your bare entrance; sensitive already, you shudder. “Fuck, look at you, so fucking wet and ready. You want me that bad, (Y/N)?” 

You sink your lips into your bottom lip, looking into his eyes through your eyelashes. Your face is hot, blushing as his tongue flicks out from between his lips to lick them. He continues to glide his long finger against you, eyes boring into yours as he does, watching as every expression of eagerness flashes across your features. His forefinger mockingly dips into your entrance for a fleeting moment, the sensation of him inside you one second and gone the next causing you to mewl out in frustration. He lets out a dark chuckle as you furrow your eyebrows, willing yourself to keep it together.

“I asked you a question, darling.” he mumbled darkly, dipping the tip of his forefinger inside of your sopping heat once again. “Answer my question and you’ll get your prize.”

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you bite back your moan when he dips his finger inside you again, taunting you. Your breathing becomes heavy with every dip he makes, aching for him to do something about the need inside of you, bucking your hips against his hand, soaked with your juices. “I want you so bad, I want you so fucking bad. Please, Jaehyun, fuck, please.” 

He lets out a dark chuckle beside your ear before he plunges the fullness of his forefinger inside of you, a gasp escaping you at the sudden entrance. He pumps the single finger in and out of you with ease, spreading your legs wider with his knee; he has large hands with long, slender fingers, the sensation of just one doesn’t meet your fancy, but it’s enough to relieve the itch that had begun to build inside of you. “Fuck!” 

“So fucking tight,” he grunts, watching your face contort into pleasured expressions, condescending smirk turning into an enchanted one, lips parting and eyebrows turning upward. He adds his middle finger, spreading your pussy wider as he begins to pick up the pace of his thrusting, arm flexing as the moonlight hits the veins that decorate along his forearms. “Shit, (Y/N), has your tight cunt been fucked before?” 

All you could muster out was a whine as he continued to fuck his fingers into you, your mind nothing but a fog of haze while he reaches deeper and deeper into your core, as if he were planning to leave his mark inside of you. You had been fucked before, by your last boyfriend, Mingyu, but not like this - never like this. Foreplay was never on his mind, giving you pleasure was something he had never thought of doing; you barely even remember a time he had given you a leg-shaking orgasm, which, if Jaehyun continued to reach inside of you like that, you’re sure you’ll have your first one by tonight. “So fucking tight, all for me, isn’t that right, darling?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” your voice is thin, still attempting to keep yourself hush, not wanting the immoral act to be known to your friend just a few doors down the hall, still waiting on your return from your break - but you’re almost sure that the lewd, wet noises of his palm slapping against your wet cunt that echoes against the pillars and golden framed paintings that line the corridors may prove your wish hopeless. Jaehyun’s fingers brush against the spot that causes your legs to shake, and with a knowing glint in his umber eyes, he continues to brush against it. “Jaehyun, shit, right there, fuck! Fuck, yeah, just like that!”

He heeds to your words, the tips of his fingers grazing against your g-spot repeatedly, and you feel yourself unravelling. It takes all for you to not let your eyes roll to the back of your head, screwing your eyes shut as you focus on his fingers stretching your walls out in a steady, rough motion; walls beginning to clench around him, you feel your desired orgasm coming. “You’re gonna cum, (Y/N)?” he questions you as your walls quiver around his digits. “You’re gonna cum just from the use of my fingers alone? Dirty girl, tell me who owns this cunt.” 

A hot sigh leaves your lips, barely focusing on his voice due to the yearning of your release. Whining, you open your eyes again to look into his, begging with your pupils to get him to continue, but his face is monotonous. “J-Jaehyun,” your voice is weak. “I’m gonna cum.” 

“Answer my fucking question, (Y/N), or else I won’t let you cum at all,” his tone is dark, which gives you all the more to whine as he picks up the pace of his fingers, sinful noises filling your ears. The act alone causes the knot in the pit of your stomach to unravel just a little more, and Jaehyun leans down to bite the skin of the crook of your neck. “Fucking tell me who owns this dirty little cunt, (Y/N).”

“You do,” you whimper, voice juddering with every thrust his fingers make. “You do, it’s yours, it’s all fucking yours! P-Please!” 

“It’s all mine?” he taunts you, he’s panting now as well, digits flashing in and out of you at a speed you weren’t even aware that a human can make. “What is? What’s all mine?”

“Fuck, Jaehyun!” you whine in aggravation. The aching need to orgasm causes the strain you’ve put on your words to escape, voice loud against the marble walls. “It’s yours! This cunt is all yours! It’s fucking yours! It’s yours to fuck and, and, it’s yours t-to… fuck! I’m coming!” 

It hits you in waves, the feeling of pleasure enveloping your body as you feel your pussy pulsate against his hand. You crane your neck back as he continues to lap at your neck, leaving memoirs of his presence in the form of soft-red markings across your skin. As the orgasm leaves your body, you are left with quivering legs, barely mustering the energy to hold yourself against the marble walls, much to the man’s amusement. It’s obvious what the two of you had done; his hand glistens with your juices against the light of the moon that travels through the planes of glass across the hall; the fabric of the shirt that he had adorned was wrinkled from your pulling and clenching of fists; your lips, that had been painted a deep shade of red prior, were now a lighter red, and Jaehyun seemed to have the same shade on, and the lingering fluid that escaped from your cunt during your orgasm lines across your inner thighs. 

As you come down from your orgasm, his lips find their way to pressing against yours once more, gentle in touch this time. Your hands find their way into his hair, pulling him close, closer than you had ever thought of him being. You feel pricklings traveling through your nerves as his tongue enters your mouth, and you find yourself yearning for more just before he pulls away, panting heavily. As he parts his lips to speak, you hear footsteps walking down the hall, and you gasp, pushing him off of you and adjusting your attire and hair, letting the hem of Jaehyun’s shirt fall past your thighs to cover the residue of what had just happened. Jaehyun watches you with an amused smile on his face, wiping his hands on the back of his trousers and grabbing the glasses that stayed atop his head and perching them back on his nose again, carelessly brushing his pure-white sleeve against his lips that causes the dark lipstick that you had stained his face with to rub off. 

“(Y/N)!” you hear Johnny’s familiar voice call just before he comes around the corner, the flashlight of his phone dashing around the corridor. He turns to the corridor you and Jaehyun both stood in, jumping in shock for only a second - possibly thinking he had come across ghosts - before visibly relaxing and walking towards you in his confident gait, his phone still flashing in the darkness. You squint, terrified that he might be able to deduce what happened between the both of you with the torchlight. “God! You were gone for so long! I heard yelling! What happened?” 

“She got lost trying to find the bathroom, and I scared her.” Jaehyun lies with ease, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. You eyed him for a few seconds, gaze lingering his body - he seemed so casual, as if what had just happened sprung only in your mind, but you are still able to detect a trace of your MAC lipstick on the side of his lips and the messy waves of his hair that your hands were entangled in. Yet, you were still appalled at how easy the lies fell past his lips. “She started yelling at me, it was really funny.” 

“Jaehyun, you bastard,” Johnny sighs, sending him a sharp eye before turning around and patting your hair down. For a second, he squints towards your lip, and you fear that he found the first clue of what the two of you had been doing, but he seems to ignore it, eyes flashing back up to yours. “If you want me to beat my brother’s head in with my camera, I’ll be happy to do it.”

You open your mouth to answer but Jaehyun’s voice interrupts you. “Hey, if it weren’t for me, she would still be lost in your stupid winding corridors,” he gruffs, crossing his arms over his chest; the action highlights the muscles underneath the thin fabric of his shirt but you will yourself to look away. “She’ll just have to owe me. Isn’t that right, (Y/N)?” 

His voice has a hint of amusement in it, tone lighthearted as he sends you a smile with crescent-shaped eyes, and your heart jumps in not lust, but with something else you have yet to figure out - but you’re aware of the hidden connotations of his sentence, the feeling that Jaehyun had reached into your core slightly coming back at the thoughts that race around your mind of images of him. You only nod, throat going dry, before smiling simply.

“Yes, Jaehyun,” you heed his words, and for a fleeting second, an amused smile on his face shone with a lordly flame. “I owe you.”

-----

The night that you laid in bed trying to daze into slumber after your first encounter with Jung Jaehyun proved a sleepless one, one that kept you rolling over and over again in your plush bed, constantly flipping your pillows and kicking your duvet out of sheer frustration. The memories of Jaehyun’s sinful words and breathy grunts, recalling his fingers flashing in and out of you, brought back the itch inside of you like no other; you only fell asleep after finding solace in your own fingers, and even they couldn’t cause you to reach the heights Jaehyun had shown you.

You do not tell Irene; you couldn’t tell Irene, and you shouldn’t tell Irene, because you are certain that she will blow a gasket the moment the man in question’s name leaves your lips because you did not listen to her. You have never lied to your best friend before, nor have you ever kept a secret from her - but it is for the best for the situation. Besides, you and Jaehyun were only using each other for each other’s body, to let desires that shouldn’t be exhibited in public out - at least, that’s what you believed, and your best friend doesn’t have to know that. Yet, each time she walks to your side with an indication of concern in her brow, you find it hard to keep your secrets locked within your lips.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” asks Irene, her voice muffled underneath the soft chatter of a high-end lounge she had invited you to. You stare down into the liquid of your tonic water, choosing something non-alcoholic in order to keep your honesty and deceit under control. “You’ve been really quiet lately. Is there something troubling you?”

“No worries, Irene,” you muster a small smile, genuine enough to see her body relax as you swish your water in your glass. It’s grating to know how effortless it was for you to lie to her. “Nothing is the matter. I’m just a little tired from my schedules lately, I’m really sorry if it’s been making you uncomfortable.” 

She pouts slightly, not quite believing your tale. “(Y/N),” she tells you, grabbing your hand. You felt guilt shake through your nerves at her touch - but you cannot tell her about you and Jaehyun, even if your life depended on it. “Don’t worry about me, okay? If something is the matter, tell me, okay? I’m your best friend - your sister - for a reason.” 

“Of course, Irene.” you say, the fib falling past your lips and disappearing into thin air. She nods once, a concerned gaze lingering on you for only one last second before she tears her eyes off of you to look back at the menu on the bar in front of her. Irene had invited you to accompany her at a new lounge that had opened up in Myeong-dong, apparently owned by a good friend of hers named Lee Taeyong. Seokjin was due to show up in a few minutes after a scheduled meeting, and according to Irene, may have in tow a friend of his that ‘you may be interested in.’

As she turns her attention towards the menu, you find yourself gazing back down at your tonic water, watching as the liquid swashes against the clear collins glass, soon becoming bored with it. Your eyes then find themselves exploring the sight of the lounge in front of you - you and Irene sat right in the middle of the lounge, at the bar, the sleek black marble table rounded as baristas around inside the circle juggle around alcoholic drinks and other platters to deliver to their patents. Outside of the circle, there are multiple seats with tables, occupied with several gentlemen in suits and ladies covered in Dior. The extravagance of it all was very familiar to you, for having grown up in an environment much like it, regardless; you would be lying if you were to say you hadn’t grown tired of it.

“Oh, they’re here!” Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze and look towards the entrance in front of you, Seokjin’s familiar face coming into view as he hands one of the servers his Burberry coat; behind him is a man not much shorter than him, jet black tufts of hair and sharp observant eyes. For a second, you feel your heart race in your chest - whoever Seokjin had brought is definitely a beautiful man, and perhaps Irene was right about taking an interest in him, however, you shouldn’t jump before you had talked to him. 

“Hello, darling, hello (Y/N),” Seokjin embraces the two of you before he stands out of the way to pull in the man following idly behind him. Upon closer inspection, his facial features are some of the most sharpest you’ve ever seen - his eyes, obviously sharp from a distance, are cutting up close, jawline whetted and embracing against his sleek lips. You feel as if you’ve seen him before, but you can’t pinpoint where. “This is Kim Doyoung, he’s currently filming a movie under Kim Productions right now.”

The familiarity hits you like a train as you recall seeing his face on your screen many times - he’s a very celebrated actor in South Korea, especially so since he had broken into the Western film industry. You weren’t much of a big fan of movies, finding yourself falling asleep no matter the genre or amount of stars the movie acquired, but you know a famous face when you see one. After he greets Irene with a kind smile, you stretch your hand outwards to address him, a gracious simper on your face. “It’s very nice to meet you, Doyoung. I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

You and Doyoung are quick to become close, letting the engaged couple next to the two of you converse to themselves. As the night drones on and as people in identical Brunello suits and Dior dresses pile in and out of the lounge, you and Doyoung share stories of your childhood, finding out that he wasn’t born into the world of money like you were, instead having to find his way up and through the industry by making sacrifices. You discover that he has an estranged relationship with his parents, instead finding familial solace in his brother who is also an actor, named Gongmyung. You learn of his hobbies, that he enjoyed singing and reading, and find out that before he had pursued the world of acting, he had thought of heading into the direction of law and government. 

For an hour and a half, you find yourself delved into the person that is Kim Doyoung, realizing that this is discussion prevails information of most people you know other than your two closest friends. In the middle of a conversation on the topic of college, you begin to abandon the lingering memories that had been taking up your mind by the man who had left remnants of himself in it. Perhaps, you spoke too soon.

“Kim Doyoung,” the familiar voice sends jolts through your body as if it were an involuntary impulse. You tear your eyes from Doyoung’s sharp, yet friendly gaze and let them sink into Jung Jaehyun’s soft, but intense ones. He is dressed in a plain black button-up shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows as he cradles a glass of cheval blanc, arm adorned with his Daniel Wellington watch, hand deep in the pocket of his black trousers. His hair is slicked back but to the side, few strands swaying against his forehead. A smirk plays on his lip, and the sight of it makes your thighs clench in response. “It’s been a while since we’ve last met.” 

“Jung Jaehyun, long time no see,” Doyoung’s voice holds restraint when his eyes meet Jaehyun’s, a look of revolt flashing in them before he stands to his feet to bow. “I heard that Jung & Associates will be under your command soon. Congratulations.” 

“Yes,” he concurs, taking a sip of his champagne as he pulls up a chair next to Doyoung. He has not looked at you once since arriving into the conversation, but something about his tone of voice leads you to think he is blatantly aware of your presence, such as you are of his. “And I heard that you starred in a film that was nominated for an Academy award? How delightful. It was the one with the zombies, right?” 

Doyoung sets his glass of sauvignon blanc onto the bar, gulping down the liquid. “Yes.”

“Well, congratulations to you.” a haughty smirk guised as an amiable smile makes its way onto Jaehyun’s face before his eyes finally land on you, training on your face for a few seconds before they begin to slowly make their way down your form clad in a tulle minidress by Marchesa. “(Y/N), a pleasure to see you here.” 

“Jaehyun.” you nod once, tightening your fingers around the stem of your wine. “It’s nice to see you here too. The two of you know each other?”

Doyoung looks up from his glass, towards you. “The two of us were in multiple classes together during college, before I dropped out to pursue acting,” he explains. He seemed apprehensive, and you acknowledge why - the presence of Jaehyun is far too strong to bear. “We are very close friends. I see the both of you are close, as well.” 

Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak but you interrupt him before he says anything. “Actually,” you say, correcting him. “Jaehyun and I are just acquaintances - we know each other through his brother, Johnny.” 

“Ah, I see.” Doyoung nods, before he begins occupying himself with sips of his wine. Through the awkward silence, you turn your gaze to Jaehyun, whose eyes train on you with an emotion you can only decipher as need, a knowing glint in both of his pupils. Flashes of his fingers disappearing in and out of you play through your mind, and you cross your legs together to combat the growing feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“So what brings you here, Jaehyun?” you ask the man after he orders himself another glass of cheval blanc; Doyoung, in between the two of you, stays silent. 

“I just finished a meeting with Park & Kim Law, and was about to head to the exit when I saw you and an old friend conversing, and I thought, why not?” he says, leaning forward on both of his elbows to direct his gaze fully onto you without the diversion of Doyoung’s head. You quirk your eyebrow for a nanosecond at the fleeting thought of a law firm meeting taking place at a lounge, but you let it go. “And you, (Y/N), what brings you and Doyoung here? A date, perchance?” 

His voice is soft, but with the slightest inkling of venomous jealousy, quirking his eyebrows as the words leave his mouth. “No!” you find yourself saying far too quickly, an amused smile making its way onto Jaehyun’s face. “Doyoung and I actually just met, we’re here with Seokjin and Irene.” you turn around to face the engaged couple who were sat next to you, deep in conversation as if they were in their own world. You turn back towards Jaehyun, whose eyes were not looking at yours, but are now gazing at someplace lower. “Actually, I was just about to leave. I have a schedule tomorrow morning.”

“I see,” Jaehyun hums, his top teeth sinking down into his bottom lip as he listens to you. He turns to Doyoung, resting his jaw against his fist, almost taunting him. “Will you be accompanying her, Doyoung? Drop her off at home?” 

Doyoung lets out a sigh as he takes another swing of his wine, looking up towards you, the nervousness behind his eyes since Jaehyun had arrived replaced with a flame. “I’m afraid I still have business to discuss with Seokjin,” he says apologetically, straightening his back and turning his body fully around to ignore Jaehyun’s presence. “If I could, I would gladly drive you home - the streets aren’t safe this time of night.”

“It’s alright, Doyoung,” you let out a laugh, setting a hand down on his shoulder - as you do, you feel Jaehyun’s eyes burning through your hand. “I’ll just call my chauffeur, which, speaking of calling, may I ask for your number?” 

He complies, and you let out a shaky breath as you feel Jaehyun’s gaze lingering on your skin growing stronger and stronger; just as Doyoung hands you your phone back with his newly added contact, Jaehyun stands from his seat. “I can drive you home.” 

You raise your eyebrows in surprise before a slight smirk makes its way onto your lips. “You don’t have to, Jaehyun, really,” you tell him, letting out a breathy laugh. “I’ll just call my chauffeur - they are always on duty.”

“No, I insist,” Jaehyun speaks, far too quickly to save face. The tips of his ears are red, much to your pleasure; he’s jealous. “Doyoung is right, the streets aren’t safe this time of night, and I think it would be better for you to come with me considering that we already do have an established knowledge of each other - plus, it’s what Johnny would want for me to do. What’s your address?”

You simply quirk your eyebrow at him before standing up from your seat and collecting your things, reciting your address as Jaehyun puts it into a GPS app on his phone. As you turn towards your best friend, deep in conversation with her fiancé, you apprehensively tap her on her shoulder. Irene turns towards you in the middle of a sentence with a look of wonder on her face when she sees you ready to go. Searching for the will to lie to her face once again, you force your shaking breath to calm. “Hey, Irene, I have a really early schedule tomorrow - I’ll be leaving, alright?”

“Oh, is Doyoung taking you home?” asks Irene, eyes flashing to the jet-black haired man still seated on his stool, staring into his glass. You shake your head.

“No, Jaehyun will be taking me home,” your voice is nonchalant enough to not raise suspicion, but Irene’s eyebrows raise in disturbance the moment his name slips from your lips. She leans forward to spot Jung Jaehyun on the other side of Doyoung, already throwing on his tweed coat as he sends her his usual gracious, kilowatt smile. She leans back to you and parts her lips to ask why he had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, as well as why you were so casual in leaving with him, but you cut her off. “Don’t worry, Irene. If anything happens, Johnny will beat him up. It’s fine, don’t worry.” 

“Are you sure, (Y/N)?” Irene is wholly worried, grasping your forearm as she pulls you forward, closer to her, speaking in a hushed tone. “Seokjin and I can drop you off instead.”

“Irene, I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I don’t want to ruin your night, okay?” You let out a sigh, straightening your back again and giving her a radiant smile of deceit to tell her that you will be alright. She lets out a huff of air in defeat, nodding her head. As you pivot on your heel, you keep your head turned towards Irene as you begin to walk towards Jaehyun, hands already buried in the pockets of his coat. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Of course.” Irene says with a tight lip. Your eyes flash towards Doyoung, who watches you with eyes filled with an emotion you cannot decipher, before you flash him a smile. 

“Doyoung,” you nod your head. “I hope to see you soon, as well.”

“Of course.”

The cool January air obnoxiously hits your exposed legs the moment you step out of the lounge, the VIP parking lot littered with snow as you trail behind Jaehyun’s large form. You hear the jingling of his keys and the tone of his car beeping not too far ahead; he was quiet, and it caused a tension to seduce the air between the two of you. He opens the passenger side of his sleek noir Mercedes to let you climb in before rounding to his side, slamming his door closed. The purr of the engine is smooth as it glides down the city streets, flashes of flight originating from the tall buildings above decorating the skin of your thighs. A few moments later, you’re the first to part your lips. 

“Jaehyun,“ you start, voice calm, but your intentions are clear; teasing lightly laces your words.. “Is something the matter?”

He takes a few seconds to answer, you see his jaw clenching before he opens his mouth. “No,” he simply says. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” you can’t bear to keep the growing smirk off your lips. You play with the hem of your Marchesa dress, the tulle thin between your thumb and forefinger. “It just seems as if you’re… angry. A little tense.” 

“I’m not,” Jaehyun’s voice is calm, harmonized by the low purr of his engine. “Just a little confused as to why you seem so interested in Kim Doyoung.” 

You quirk your eyebrow as you listen to his tensed words, as if he were keeping himself contained within his body. You let out a scoff. “I’m not interested in him,” you trail off, watching the city pass you by as Jaehyun begins to near your estate’s territory. “I’m just… a little curious.”

“I can promise you, (Y/N),” he mutters. “There is nothing about that man you should be curious about.”

“Really?” you challenge him, turning to look at him again. The lamp posts that litter the streets highlight his facial structures in a way you have never seen - sleek cheeks cut from his high cheekbones, warm brown eyes cast shades darker; you never really noticed how long his eyelashes are, kissing his under eyes. “The way you jumped to steal me from him leads me to believe that there is.”

You watch as his lips slowly curl into a wry smirk, letting out a huff of air as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Are you presuming that I’m jealous, darling?” he lets out a chuckle, eyes turning into crescents but his tone is sinister. You press your thighs together. “Is that why you were suddenly so pursuant in flirting with him in front of me? You want to make me jealous? Because I saw you moments before I arrived and you were merely chatting with him like a normal friend - it wasn’t until I sat on that stool when you began to feel his arms through his blazer.”

An amused smile plays on your lips as you look back out the windshield window, seeing that he has arrived to your gates. The guard that mans the metal doorways only wakes up from his slumber to press the button that opens it, Jaehyun slowly driving his Mercedes through your gateway. 

“The fact alone that you had been watching me and analyzing the touches I gave him says a lot, Jung Jaehyun,” you say in a hushed voice as he pulls up at the front of your house. The lights of your home were all turned off, signifying that your mother isn’t home, and neither are any of the maids - it is a Saturday after all. You turn to him, a teasing smile on your face, seeing that he had already been gazing at you. “But if you’re not jealous, then maybe, just maybe, I’ll let him fuck me until I can’t walk.”

When Jaehyun’s lips mesh into yours in a flurry of desperation, the words that you had let fall past your lips fly out the window, his hands on the back of your neck as he pulls you closer towards him over his console. He unbuckles his seat belt before he turns his entire body to you, lips parting as his tongue enters your mouth; you let out a moan as he does, combing your fingers through his ash brown locks. 

“Not here,” you whisper, pulling away, his eyes opening before he looks at you in worry. “I want you to fuck me in my bed.”

The seconds it took for you and Jaehyun to climb out of his car, walk up your marble stairs, fish for your keys inside your purse blindly as the two of you continued to kiss each other before finally unlocking the door proves worth it as the rashness of his actions heightened the moment you shut the door behind you; he presses you against the whitewood and attaches his lips to yours again, hands set on your hips as you ring yours around the back of his neck. He smells of saffron and jasmin, slightly quiet moans escaping from his throat. 

“Fuck,” he says, playing with the hem of your dress, trying to pull it down your body but the handmade strains deem too sturdy. “Get this shit off.” 

“It’s Marchesa.” you pout, his eyes lingering on your lips, plump from kissing his own. 

“I don’t give a shit what it is or isn’t,” Jaehyun grunts. “I want it off of you. Now.” 

You heed to his word, reaching for the zipper on the side of your waist as you connect your lips to his again, the neckline of your dress relaxes, and as his tongue dances with yours, he slowly begins to slide your dress down your form. He pulls away to look at your figure, wearing only a lace black bra with matching panties, and he lets out a grunt. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he whispers, hands travelling up your body to cup your breasts through the fabric of your bra. His lips are close to your ear before he begins to kiss spots on your neck, tongue moving languishly against your skin. “God, I can’t wait to fucking ruin you.”

His words cause you to suck in a breath as you tighten your thighs together, and he seems to notice, a deep chuckle forming from his throat. You lean your head to the side to allow him more space to your neck, your hands travelling from his broad back to the front of his chest, trailing down towards his jeans. When you feel how stiff he is through the denim material of his pants, you pull away from him. He looks at you with wonder, your hooded eyes and smirk ringing clear to him as you slowly begin to push him towards your staircase, having him sit down on one of the carpeted steps while your knees touch the cool marble flooring of your entrance hallway. 

“You said it yourself, I owe you, don’t I?” you whisper as you unbuckle his belt. He watches you as you do, enchanted with the way your fingers moved to free his cock from their strain. When you finally release his stiff shaft from his underneath his boxers, you practically salivate at the sight - he was long and thick, the tip of his head pink in desperation. When your lips wrapped around his cock, he sinks his upper teeth into his bottom lip to keep a moan from escaping his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as your tongue slicks around his throbbing tip. 

You keep your eyes trained on his face, taking in every sinful expression that makes way on his angelic features; it should be a sin to look as angelic as he is but have the most sinful sounds fall past his lips - but the thought excited you. Ever since you had first seen him, Jung Jaehyun had looked like nothing else but like an art piece from the Romantic era had come to life ; with his gentle yet captivating umber eyes, to the way his lips curl as if he was always hiding a secret - to see him in such a filthy, obscene circumstances caused you to yearn for more. Even as you begin pumping your mouth around his cock, you yearned for more; for him to bury himself deeper into your throat. 

“Fuck! Yes! Yes, fuck, that’s it, take my cock into your pretty little mouth,” Jaehyun grunts, raking his fingers through your hair to form a makeshift ponytail, holding your head steady against his crotch. He begins to slowly rock his hips up and down, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, lewd noises emitting from the back of your throat; you look up at him through your eyelashes with pleading eyes. He fucks into your mouth slowly, making sure he doesn’t hurt you, but deeply, hissing at the feeling of your throat spasming every time the tip of his cock grazes against it. 

“That’s it, darling, fuck, your throat feels so good.” he grunts as he does one long thrust, feeling your mouth around the entirety of his cock, burying it deep in your throat for a few seconds. As he keeps it there, relishing in the spasming of your tongue and the swishing of your saliva, your gag reflex threatens you, and you clutch at the flesh of his thighs for support, screwing your eyes shut. He slides out, strings of saliva connecting your plump lips to the base of his cock as you cough out in strained breaths; your eye makeup has already began to run down your face. “Such a good girl aren’t you, letting me fuck your mouth?”

Your eyes are trained on his when he stands up from his seated position, keeping your position kneeled down on the marble floors; biting your lips stained with saliva and lingering droplets of Jaehyun’s pre-cum, you nod meekly which causes a smirk to spread on Jaehyun’s lips. Your eyes trail down to his cock again, wanting it back in your system, but he seemed to have other plans as he hauls you to stand up by your hair. His other free hand makes its way to your clothed pussy, pressing against the moistened fabric, taking in the way your eyebrows furrow in hunger. 

“Look at you, such an eager whore,” He chuckles, hot breath pressing against your ear as his middle finger slides against the thin fabric pressed against your sopping heat. Your hips buck against the teasing single digit, and he lets out an amused laugh at your desperation. “All this just from my fingers? All this because I fucked your throat? Who made you this wet, darling?” 

You only focus on his finger sliding against your clothed folds, your eyes hooded as you clutch your hand against Jaehyun’s forearm. It’s when he tugs on your scalp again, forcing you to look into his eyes, when you realized he had asked you a question, dark eyes burning into yours. You open your mouth, breath shaking at the little contact. “You did, Jaehyun.” 

“Shit,” he grunts. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Upstairs, left, very last door.”

He wastes no time in sweeping you off your feet, letting out a light gasp as he effortlessly carries you up the stairs, following the directions that you had given him, your legs dangling while you wrap your hands around his neck, lips attaching to his skin. He kicks your bedroom door open, and throws you on top of your blankets. When your back hits against your familiar plush mattress, you spend no time in recognizing the comfort you had grown up in as Jaehyun quickly pulls your panties down your legs, getting onto his knees on your carpeted floors. 

The moment you feel his warm tongue glide through your wet folds, you gasp out his name, throwing your head back at the unfamiliar sensation. Your toes curl as Jaehyun’s tongue circles around your clit, nub sensitive causing you to buck your hips forward; your fingers make their way into his hair, grabbing at his ash blonde locks to bring him closer. Your ex-boyfriend, Mingyu, had never given you this type of pleasure before, your few times together only ever resulting in a quick blowjob and dull sex that would only last for a few minutes - you have never been on the receiving side of oral, nor have you ever felt your body ache with pleasure at the most bare minimum things. Every touch Jaehyun puts on your skin spreads through your body like fire, and you want it more and more.

“Fuck, baby, you taste so sweet,” Jaehyun peppers the inside of your thigh with memoirs of his lips in the form of deep red bruises, the tip of his middle finger slowly tracing over your slit, coating his digit with your juices and of his saliva. You shudder at the familiarity of his fingers against sliding through your folds, having yearned for them inside of you again since your own couldn’t reach as far as he could - and when he eagerly slipped two fingers inside of you, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. He grins as he hears the sinful sound. “Jesus, so fucking tight.”

He leans forward once more, reattaching his lips to your pussy, his tongue sliding against your clit in circular motions while begins to move the digits in and out of your slit, already having found a certain spot that led you whimpering his name. “J-Jaehyun,” you breathe out in short gasps, furrowing your eyebrows together as the sensation of his long fingers spreading you out racks your mind. “Fuck, Jaehyun, right there.”

He continues to fuck you with his fingers, tongue flashing past your clit in lewd motions - his hand travels up your body, goosebumps adorning your skin with each touch before he pulls down your lace bra, your nipples hardened against the cool air. He rolls your nub with his free hand, eyes trained on your face and taking in your expressions as the pleasure overtakes your body. He continues to graze the pads of his fingers against your spot, and your back arches off your mattress, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Are you gonna cum, darling?” he pulls his mouth away from your pussy, but his fingers continue to fuck into you. He looks up at you with taunting eyes and the sight only brings you to the edge further. The sight is enough to take you over the edge, the pads of his fingers grazing over your spot just one last time before your orgasm rakes through your body, your hips bucking against his still moving fingers - you mewl at his presence in your sensitive core. “That’s right, cum all over my fingers, just like that.” 

Your breathing is faltering, but Jaehyun wastes no time before he kneels onto your bed, the mattress dipping as you attempt to catch your breath. He peers down at you with a soft smile on his face, juxtaposing the lingering remnants of your juices and his saliva that frames his plumped lips. You only find peace for a fleeting moment at his tranquil expression before you feel his throbbing tip slide against your slit, the expression on Jaehyun’s face transforming into a teasing one. 

“Look at you, you’re a mess,” he taunts you, sliding his tip against your pussy, coating his head in your juices. You shudder at how close he is to finally plunging deep inside of you, but still being so far away. You whimper as he continues to do it, and although you’ve already had your orgasm, the aching need that had occupied the pit of your stomach since you had left your first encounter forming in your stomach again. “Jesus Christ, what will become of you once I give you my cock?”

“Fucking hell, Jung Jaehyun, just fuck me already.” you let out a frustrated whimper, wrapping your hands around the back of his neck to pull him closer, his body falling on top of yours as your lips move against his. He chuckles against them, before he positions himself against your slit, slowly pushing in. You pull away from his lips when he enters you, a gasp falling from your slacked jaw as he stretches you open.

“Jesus fuck, (Y/N), you’re so fucking tight!” he grunts when the base of his cock hits the mound of your pussy. You can do all but speak, eyes screwed shut as you clutch onto his forearms on either side of you. You’ve observed that he’s large before, but he stretches you out so well - he slowly begins to move his hips, and the slight pain begins to subside, transforming into pleasure. As you relax your body, you let out short gasps every time he thrusts back into you again. “Shit, you feel so good around me.”

You hear Jaehyun’s baritone voice, but it seems as if it’s located a million miles away, you floating bliss as you relish in the sensation of his cock sliding against your walls repeatedly. Each time he thrusts all the way back before slams inside of you again, you let out sharp gasps; his cock reaches into your core even further than his fingers already had, and it feels so, so good. 

“Look at you,” Jaehyun breathes as he picks up the pace of his hips, rutting into you at a faster speed, his arms pinned on either side of you. Your hair, usually styled and perfectly placed around your face, is splayed out in messy fashion against your cream sheets; your face is flushed with excitement and lust, jaw slack as profane noises fall past your mouth and into the hot air between both of your bodies; your eyes, usually so focused and attentive, are glossed over with desire, hooded as your tits bounce with each thrust Jaehyun drives into you. “So fucked out already. Doyoung could never fuck you this good, right, darling?”

“J-Jaehyun.” is all you are able to whine as he continues to fuck into you, hard and deep; the sounds of skin slapping against skin harmonized with the sound of the both of you breathing heavily is what occupies the space between the two of you. He pulls your hips higher, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him to fuck you even deeper - the sensation of the tip of his cock grazing against you sensitive spot causes your nails to sink into the skin of his forearms. 

“Tell me again, darling,” ask Jaehyun, his hand moving towards your throat and gently wrapping his fingers around your neck. As he continues to drive his cock into your tight pussy, his voice comes out in strained grunts. “What did you want Doyoung to do to you?”

“F-Fuck,” you could barely form a word, each thrust he gives you causes all your thoughts to melt into obscurity, sentences jumbled into whines and moans. His clutch on your throat tightens and you’re almost sure your eyes are about to roll to the back of your head in pure bliss. 

“I asked you a question,” he growls, slamming into you again and again. “I expect you to fucking answer me.”

“I-I wanted him to,” You manage to squeak out a few words. “Fuck m-me until I c-couldn’t walk.” 

“And tell me, darling, who’s the only one who can do that?” he ruts his hips even faster than before, your bed squeaking as your mattress moves with every push he makes into your pussy. At this new angle, his the tip of his cock hits your spot perfectly, over and over again, a sensation that induces you to scream his name as you arch your back off the bed. 

“Jaehyun! Fuck!” you yell, hearing your voice echo against the walls of your bedroom - he doesn’t stop though - as you scream his name, laced with foul words, repeatedly, his cock continues to drive deep inside of your pussy, making sure he leaves a mark inside of you that only he can give.

“Fucking tell me,” he pulls his hand away from your throat to grab onto your face, forcing you to look at him. Tears of pleasure have began to spring against your waterline, falling past your lower eyelids and staining your bedsheets; your face is streamed with marks of your mascara and eyeliner, your lips plump from biting into them to refrain yourself from screaming his name. “Tell me, (Y/N), who’s the only one who can fuck you? Who does your tight fucking cunt belong to?”

“Y-You-” you whimper out in a quiet voice only to scream again when Jaehyun moves your hips higher, his cock driving into your deeper and harder than before. His grip on your waist is tight as he moves his hips; you’re sure to have bruises the next morning but all you could focus on at that moment is your nearing second orgasm. “Fuck, Jaehyun! You! It’s yours! Only you can fuck me, shit!”

“That’s right,” he leans back, yet another angle racking over your body, his throbbing tip hitting your sensitive core rhythmically. Sweat begins to drip from his forehead, his face glistening in the dim lighting of your bedroom - even now, even through the indecent circumstances the two of you were in, he is beautiful. “Your pretty little cunt is mine, only mine.”

 “Y-Yes, Jaehyun, it’s yours,” you whimper, clutching at your bed sheets. What had started as a lonely night had quickly become one filled with the sound of slapping skin and a creaking bed, Jaehyun’s deep grunts music to your ears as you feel your walls spasm around his cock. A knot had formed in the pit of your stomach again, a sense that only Jaehyun had ever given you, and you feel your mind haze over. “J-Jaehyun, fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

“Cum for me baby,” Jaehyun whispers, and your eyes to roll to the back of your head as the feeling rakes your body, sending goosebumps over your skin - you hear Jaehyun’s moans becoming louder as you cum but they are muffled with the stir of your pleasure, seeing stars in the darkness behind your eyelids. Your body goes numb, core sensitive, but Jaehyun continues to fuck into you through your orgasm. “Fuck, baby, are you on the pill? I need to cum inside you.” 

You only simply whisper out a yes, voice shaking and broken from the screaming you had done all night, still caught in a daze from your orgasm, before feeling Jaehyun’s hips falter as he lets out a low groan. His thrusting slows and his jaw becomes slack, eyes directed downwards, at his cock connected to your pussy, ash blonde hair sticking to his forehead and cheeks flushed with both lust and exhaustion. He fills you up with his cum with shaking breaths, it is when he pulls out when you feel the warm liquid slip out of you. 

He wastes no time in leaning down to kiss you again, lips molding together as if they were meant to be pressed against each other - his hands, now gentle, caressing your hair and your hands cupping his face. The two of you have left memoirs of each other on the other’s body, and although you aren’t sure what the two of you quite are, the tranquility that fills the air when you look into his eyes after he pulls away from your lips, a gentle smile making its way onto his face before he pulls himself beside you against the plush pillows if your bed, only brings you an emotion you haven’t felt in a very long time. 

“You’re so beautiful.”

That night, when you fell asleep in Jaehyun’s warm embrace, as his heaving breaths slowly transition into a soft, rhythmic snoring, you are happy.

-----

Jung Jaehyun, to put it simply, is like a drug to you. If his presence is elsewhere, your body aches for him, almost begging for company even without your knowledge, and he knows it. The haughty smirk that you had grown used to ever since the first time your eyes laid on him had grown wider now, even more when his name is all you’re able to say whenever he drives his cock into your core. You’re selfish; almost every single night is a night spent with him, with your bodies pressed together in a dance between the sheets of your bed, or his bed, or whatever environment the two of you occupy. 

There was one time, only a day after the first time he had fucked you, when he had picked you up from your home - your mother believed that you were leaving for Irene’s house to pay her a visit, but she was awfully incorrect. You and Jaehyun never made it to where he was planning to take you, having parked deep in a bundle of trees, somewhere far where no one could find the both of you, before fucking you in the backseat of his noir Mercedes. His windows were tinted and the steam that had accumulated on the glass would prove it difficult to look through if anyone were able to find his parked car, but the rocking motion of his automobile probably would have proved your theory wrong.

There was another time, a week after the first time he had fucked you, when you visited the Jung & Associates tower deep in the heart of the city during the evening, when almost all of their employees had left. That night, he bent you over his mahogany desk and drilled into you ruthlessly, his necktie disposed of, wrapping it around your neck to keep you on your knees on top of the table, your soaked panties shoved into your mouth to muffle your whines and screams in case a few employees loitered around the office on the other side of Jaehyun’s door. 

And another time, your favourite time, when you had a flight to Los Angeles to oversee a branch of Decoré’s boutiques and their dodgy revenue, when a knock reverberated on the door to your penthouse, and upon opening it, you were greeted with the familiarity of Jaehyun’s lips on yours. He promised to fuck you on every surface, eager to see you coming undone on top of each piece of furniture laid out in your penthouse. You could barely remember that night; having had innumerable orgasms, each memory is a blur of lust and pleasure - but you can recall being pressed against the panoramic window that blessed you the view of all of Hollywood as he fucked into you from behind, deep voice reminding you of your blasphemy while people went on about their day below the two of you.

Your life is filled with responsibilities and expectations - you are expected to have a beautiful posture, a graceful expression, careful movements, and wise words; never to have a cuss word fall past your lips, never to have a revolted expression grace on your face. If you were to make one wrong move, the future of Decoré may be in peril - but with Jaehyun, as obscene as your actions with him are, you feel as if you are truly yourself. With his throbbing cock pumping in and out of your core, all your thoughts of maintaining your prim and proper reputation are pushed out of your mind, instead focused on raking your fingernails down the skin of his back.

Today, your hands are occupied with tugging on your Hermés scarf that you had wrapped around your neck, concentrated on cloaking the marks forged on the skin of your neck that Jaehyun had left with his lips the night prior. Today, there was yet another gala that you were invited to, some politician that your mother is acquainted with. To be excited is nothing close to how you really feel, knowing of the dull and tediousness that the rest of the night will consist of - you’re only thankful that your stylists didn’t force you into a corset again. You aren’t even sure why you had to attend, having no connection to the point of the gala except for your mother - you would much rather be at home, perhaps reading a book, watching a movie, telling Irene to accompany you, or perhaps texting Jaehyun to come over once again.

Your prediction for the night proves correct when you find yourself sitting alone in the corner of the venue, against the royal blue crushed velvet chairs as you stare into the liquid of your wine glass. You are adorned in a pure white dress by Elie Saab, and you were far too afraid to drop any of the desserts on it in fear of a stain, so you settle for just a simple drink instead. Tchaikovsky drones from the weary looking orchestra at the top of the stairwell, and you’re almost sure you’ve memorized each flat or sharp were located in the flurry of notes. Your mother, the social bird, is off conversing with other people that she’d acquainted herself with, a large, yet fake, smile on her face - it seemed as if no one your age was present, so you were grateful at the fact that her matchmaking business for you will be closed for the night.

You let out a sigh as the night drones on, the conclusion for the evening seemingly never arriving. You are unsure as to how the people around you seem to be enjoying themselves - Do people enjoy boring things as they grow older?you think, but you would never say it out loud. 

“I like your scarf.” 

The tone of voice automatically causes you to sit up straight, turning your head towards the direction it originated from. The man in question pulls up a seat next to you, a kind smile on his lips before sitting down on the crushed velvet padded seat. You quirk your eyebrow in surprise at his presence - you’d assume that he’d be someplace else, enjoying his night, but as you thought more about it, the environment fit his field of expertise.

“Thank you - it was a last minute choice, considering the circumstances.” you quip, setting down your glass of wine to tug at the scarf wrapped around your neck, careful to not expose the hickeys that dance against your skin. You’re unsure on how to act around him in public, you’re so used to letting your desires with him known that acting in your usual grace is unnatural for you. “What are you doing here?”

“Actually,” Jaehyun cocks his head to the side as he smiles, a dimple forming in his cheek, quirking his eyebrow as he lifts his champagne glass to his lips to take a sip. “I have a reason to be here, darling; the man who constructed this gala is a client of Jung & Associates. I should be the one asking you that.”

“Really?” you ponder on his sentence for a few seconds as you twirl the stem of your wine glass between your fingers. “Hm, first time I’ve heard of someone’s lawyers attending an event that their client hosts.” 

“Well, he’s a very corrupt man,” Jaehyun says, turning his gaze towards you. Even just his stare causes you to feel a lustful desire - you cannot comprehend how much power he has over you. “You didn’t hear this from me, but he’s evidently guilty in a case of embezzling money and drugs underneath the guise of his campaign.” 

Your eyebrows slightly raise in shock, gasping lightly. “Oh my gosh, really?” you ask, before furrowing your eyebrows in wonder. “Why have you accepted him as a client knowing that he’s guilty?” 

“I was not the one who accepted him, darling,” he says, resting his cheek against his fist. His stance is relaxed, but his tone of voice seems to hold weight that you cannot pinpoint. “My father did - they were college buddies back in the day. Plus, you know what our kind desires - we all just want money, right?”

Your eyes slowly trail from his eyes to your drink, pondering on his words. “I guess you’re right.”

“Speaking of my father,” Jaehyun’s voice is hushed now, and uncharacteristically panicked. “Here he comes. Try to act casual, can you do that for me?”

“Of course.” you whisper back, getting ready to put your front on again, lifting your gaze just in time to spot the tall, broad-shouldered man walking towards your table. It’s a little jarring, really, seeing Jaehyun’s father for the first time; it’s as if Jaehyun had aged several years and had gone bald - the image in your head causes the corner of your lips to quiver humorously but you contain your laughter.

“Jaehyun, I’ve been looking for you since we entered this gala, there are people who would like to congratulate you.” his father’s voice is gruff, evident of experienced smoking. He barely pays attention to your presence, his eyes set on Jaehyun only, and the man beside you, whose gait is always dripping with confidence, seems to wane. You gulp as you look between Jaehyun and his father, the tension in the air appearing seemingly out of nowhere - bad tension.  

“I’m talking with a friend, father.” Jaehyun’s voice, all the stern that you have grown used to since hearing it for the first time, is softer. His father finally tears his glare at his son, his pupils snapping towards you, and suddenly, you understand why Jaehyun was acting menial. His father squints his eyes at you, observing you with scrutiny, and you let out a shaky breath before parting your lip.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jung.” you outstretch your hand over the table for him to shake, and the older man simply glances at it before setting his eyes on your face again. Your front almost falters, your hand retreating back into your lap as you burn with humility. 

“Who are you?” he asks you, voice imperious. 

“She’s (Y/N) (Y/L/N) of Decoré,” Jaehyun answers for you. His tone of voice recovered slight dominance but his stance stays humble beside yours. “I’ve told you about her, remember?” 

“Oh yes,” Mr. Jung answers, jaw square as he peers down at you, familiarity in his eyes. “That fashion brand. How is that going?”

You’re confused at his question, having never met him in the past, but you answer anyway. “It’s going alright, thank you.” 

He nods once, finally tearing his weightful glare from you and returning back to his son. “Come now, Jaehyun,” he says, turning his body as a way to signal his leaving, waiting for Jaehyun to follow him. “There are people I’d like you to meet before your birthday next week.” 

You turn your head to Jaehyun in surprise. “It’s your birthday next week?” 

Jaehyun slowly stands from his chair, eyes slightly irate and training on his father, but his voice is gentle when he answers you. “Yes, on Valentines day.” He finally looks towards you, gaze softening when they land on your features, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion - why is he acting like that? “I have to go now, (Y/N). I’ll talk to you soon, okay?” 

“Of course.” you nod once, lips pressed tightly together as you watch Jaehyun’s form walk towards his father around the table. He gives you one last glance, a look that you cannot decipher, once again, appearing in his irises, before he turns his entire body from you, leaving you to sit alone.

As you watch his retreating form, you think of the newfound information that you had uncovered about Jung Jaehyun, of his birthday, and you realize that, although you know of Jung Jaehyun, that you know of the rumours surrounding him, and know of his body and what he’s capable of from the nights you’ve spent with him for the past month, you don’t sincerely, truly, know him.

-----

Jung Jaehyun does not talk to you soon; after the gala reached its conclusion, your phone remained silent for the following week, aside from Irene’s text messages as well as your mother’s phone calls to ask you how the house is going while she’s on a brief New York visit to oversee one of Decoré’s branches. Even Johnny, who would usually spam your notifications with the latest of internet memes, has been silent. For the following week, you wake up every morning to see if Jaehyun had contacted you, met with disappointment when you’re unable to find his name in your notifications, and you head to bed every night, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d text you before you fall asleep. You are reluctant on whether you should worry or not - perhaps he’s busy, he is taking the clutches of his company from his father’s grasp, but it’s on his birthday, when you greet him with a text only to be met with a notification that he’s read your message, when dread begins to pool your stomach.

“Is there something the matter?” 

Irene’s voice causes you to snap out of your daze while you stare at the screen of your phone. It brings you a case of déja vu for only a second before you finally look up at her, a strained smile on your face. 

“Hm? No, nothing’s the matter,” you act nonchalant, setting your phone back down in your lap as you cross your legs over each other. The two of you are seated in your bedroom, Irene splayed out on your bed as she hugs one of your pillows, and you at the stool of your vanity. “I’m fine, Irene. Why?” 

“(Y/N),” Irene sighs as she sits up, putting the pillow she had been cuddling down against your plush mattress. “You’ve been acting different since your visit to Milan.” 

“Have I?” you continue your front. It’s disgusting how easy you lie to her. “I feel fine, though.” 

“Look, (Y/N),” Irene lets out a sigh, and you inwardly cringe - you know that she isn’t buying your words. “It’s fine that you don’t want to tell me, I don’t wanna pester it out of you because it’s your business. However, just know, no matter what it is, I’m here to talk to you, okay? If you told me you killed a man in Milan, I will back you up. I’m basically your sister, I’m here for you always. Please remember that.”

Her words eat at you with guilt, and you tear your eyes away from her, suddenly finding solace in your hands folded in your lap. “I know, Irene,” you whisper, voice shaking. “When the time comes, I’ll tell you. I promise.” 

“Okay, now put your phone down,” Irene hops off the bed, a grin on her face. “It’s Valentine's day; you’re single, and my fiancé is in New York. Let’s go eat ice cream and watch romance movies.” 

The rest of the night is spent lounging on the large couch in your sitting room with your best friend, nostalgic scenes of love confessions and innocent touches playing on the screen of your large television. Your mouths were filled with spoonfuls of ice cream, giggling and squealing at the scenes, as if both of you hadn’t already memorized every line from watching it repeatedly since your early teens. When the main character finally melts into the kiss of their love interest, Irene grabs the cushion next to her and doesn’t hesitate to hit you in the shoulder with it, whining at how romantic the setting was, and you giggle loudly as your spoon falls from your bucket of ice cream onto the floor, the metal clanging against the marble tiles. For a few moments, you forget about your lingering thoughts, phone abandoned in your room upstairs, sitting on the cold wood of your vanity’s table.

“Oh gosh,” Irene jumps to her feet when she looks out the window after the two of you finish your third movie. The rain pangs against your window pane harshly, coating the glass in thick rainwater. “It’s raining so hard, I should call my chauffeur.” 

“Just stay over,” you tell her, still seated on the couch. Your home is like her second home, and her home was your second home; the two of you grew up surrounded by each other’s childhood, so her sleeping over isn’t anything new. “You can call in your chauffeur tomorrow, it’s raining really hard.”

She lets out a sigh. “I know, but I have to get up super early tomorrow in time for my bridesmaid’s gown fittings,” she takes a hand through her hair as she fishes for her phone in her pocket, hitting the contact for her chauffeur on her screen. She holds it to her ear, and apologetically, asks for them to pick her up from your home. After apologizing profusely and thanking them through her phone, she ends the call and lets out another sigh, grabbing her coat that she had splayed over the arm of your couch. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.” 

You frown, but nod, standing up as you grab the empty buckets of ice cream on the coffee table and push your feet into your slippers. You head to the kitchen to dispose of the garbage and to wash the two spoons before putting them in the rack to dry. Your maids weren’t home, as it is a Saturday once again - you favoured cleaning your home though - although it was rather large, you find it relaxing. As the few minutes pass by, Irene’s ride has arrived at the front of your doors; she gives you a warm embrace before she takes her leave.

“Remember what I said, okay?” she reminds you of her words in your bedroom, to trust her with anything, and you nod once.

“Of course,” you tell her. “Have a safe drive home, alright?” 

When you close your door, you let out another sigh as the silence of your home overtakes your presence. The juxtaposition of the hustle and bustle of the nearby city, hearing honks of cars in the distance, is ironic to you as you head back to your kitchen; you felt as if you were isolated from the outside world. Having grown sheltered, with only a few close friends in order to protect your reputation, you’ve naturally become a homebody - when you’re not travelling for your own interests or for affairs pertaining to your job, you’re almost always found at home, sitting in silence. 

You sigh as you take out a nearly empty bottle of domaine de la romanée-cont from one of the cupboards in your kitchen, pouring just a little into a glass that you’ve found in another cupboard. Your mind flashes back to Jung Jaehyun once again, wondering if he’s enjoying his birthday, if he’s enjoying his Valentine’s day, pondering on why he hasn’t contacted you since you last met. You think, perhaps Irene’s words at the beginning were correct - he’s had his fun with you, and now he’s left you to pick up what he’s left behind; you quickly push the subject from your mind. After downing a sip of your wine, you dispose the glass into the sink, not bothering to wash it, opting to do it tomorrow, your mind occupied with getting ready for bed. Just as you turn into your entrance hallway to walk up the stairs towards your room, your doorbell rings. You let out a hum - Irene must have forgotten an item of hers before leaving. Your fuzzy slippers swish against the floor as you walk towards the white door, unlocking the latch before pulling the heavy door open. You part your lips to greet Irene, but what comes falling past your lips is a gasp instead, the sight of Jaehyun standing on your porch a shock to you.

His ash blonde hair is doused with rain water, droplets falling from the wet strands and kissing his shoulders, adorned in Saint Laurent that clings to his skin tautly. He’s panting, as if he had ran all the way to your house, and at the sight of his chest rising and falling rapidly, you believe that that’s exactly what he did. He steps into your home, his frigid, wet hands automatically cupping your face before he pulls you towards him, your lips crashing into his cold ones in desperation and ache. For only a fleeting moment, you melt into his kiss, but quickly regain your composure, pulling away from him. 

“What are you doing here?” you question him, pushing his wet hair away from his face. You look into his eyes, they seem red and swollen - like he’s been crying. 

“I came to see you.” he answers you, voice aberrantly frail - his breath is shaking with each inhale and exhale he takes. “I missed you.” 

“Jaehyun, what’s wrong?” you whisper, wondering why he’s acting this way - it’s his birthday, he should be happy, yet he seems so desolate, so crushed. “Have you been crying?” 

“Darling, please,” his voice is hushed, cold hands still cupping your cheeks as he searches your eyes. “I… I can’t tell you yet.” 

“Why?” you urge him on, desperate to know more about what he’s feeling, about what he’s thinking.

“I… I just can’t,” for the first time, he’s unable to come up with an answer to your questions - the doom in your stomach pools even deeper, but you hold onto the last lingering hope that burns in your heart. “Please, I just need you. I need you right now. I need you badly.”

It’s humiliating how simple words that slip past his lips could cause you to obey so quickly, pulling him in for a deeper kiss as he closes the door behind him. Your lips crash against each other in a flurry of teeth and tongue while he grabs your ass, urging you to jump, before wrapping your legs around him. In haste, he carries you up the stairs, memorizing where to go after having been in your home several times in the same circumstances, before throwing you onto your bed. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, kissing down your neck while he undoes the lace that ties your silk robe adorning your body. He unclasps your bra quickly, and you let out a sigh when he uncovers your chest, his tongue kissing the valley between your breasts before slowly enveloping his tongue around one of your nipples. “So fucking beautiful, so fucking innocent, so fucking good to me.”

You run your fingers through his drenched locks, brushing them back away from his face as his tongue flicks over your sensitive nipple repeatedly, his other hand doing the same to the other one, rolling the nub with the pad of his thumb. The sight in front of you, Jaehyun’s dark eyes boring into yours while his lips are occupied with your breasts, is breathtaking; your thighs press together intuitively, but once his free hand lets go of your breast, he gently pushes them apart. 

“Jaehyun.” you whisper when you feel his hand slip past the waistband of your shorts and panties, middle finger toying with your clit. He continues to lap at your nipple in circular motions, the sensation of his touch against your nubs causing you to breathe heavily. Slick with your juices, he dips a finger into you, watching your face when his middle finger penetrates you core. You let out a whine, an aching desire for his girth not met by his single finger, but it grazes against your spot which causes your whine to break into a whimper.

“So sensitive, always so fucking tight,” he pulls away from your breast, taking off his drenched shirt before kneeling lower to position his face in front of your sopping heat, slowly beginning to pull your shorts and panties down. In just a few minutes, you had already become drenched with lust underneath Jaehyun’s touch, heat rising in your cheeks when you feel his lips peppering kisses along the inside of your thighs. “I’ll take care of you tonight, darling.”

You still haven’t grown used to the pleasurable sensation of his tongue against your folds, finding yourself gasping in shock every time you feel him lick a strip against your opening. Your hands automatically find their way enlaced in his wet locks, bucking your hips against his face when his tongue grazes your clit. He pushes your legs further apart, lewd noises emitting from his mouth and your sopping core, hushed by the heavy rain hammering against the walls of your home. 

“Jae!” you let out a sharp gasp when you feel his tongue dip inside you, your fist clenching his hair to bring him closer as a low chuckle emits from his throat. Usually, he’d pull away and taunt you for being so eager, and continue to tease you by barely paying attention to the spot you needed him the most, but tonight, he continues to fuck his tongue into you, grip on your thighs to spread your legs apart burning. “Shit, that feels so fucking good!”

He replaces his warm tongue with two of his fingers, coated in a thin sheen of saliva before he pushes into you, tongue lapping at your clit. He knows your body so well, he knows what to do to push you over the edge and now, in just a few minutes, he’s already got you on the brink of your first orgasm. 

“Jaehyun, fuck!” you scream as he rapidly fucks his fingers into you, tongue violent against your clit. You spasm around his fingers, tugging at his scalp as your hips begin to tremble. He continues to fuck you, eyes casted downwards towards your fucked cunt, focused on bringing you over the edge. He pumps his fingers in and out of you at a quick speed, his digits disappearing inside of you one last time before you scream once more. “Shit, I’m cumming!”

He slows his fingers down as you come apart around his digits, finger fucking you through your orgasm. As you let out one last sigh, he pulls his fingers out, wet with your lust, before climbing back up to your face to kiss you, lips wet with saliva and your juices. He moans into the kiss, hands needy as they knead your breasts, his tongue entering your mouth hotly. You flip your bodies over, you on top of him now, his hands moving down your waist to cup your ass. 

You lean back and he watches you with adoration - your heart flips in your chest for only a moment before lust fills your mind again when you feel his stiff cock against your thigh through his jeans. You move down, your turn to kneel on the floor in front of him as you begin to undo his pants. He watches you with his teeth buried in his bottom teeth, brushing your hair away from your face as you pull his cock from his boxers. You let out a breathy giggle at how pink his throbbing tip is before circling your tongue around it, earning a hiss from him before you fully engorge it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, yes,” he grunts, pushing himself up on his elbows to get a better view of you wrapping your lips around his cock, raking his hands through your hair. “Yes, just like that, suck my cock just like that.”

He goes crazy at the sight of your lips wrapped around him, the sight is enough to nearly push him over the edge - your innocent eyes, your hands that clutch at his every time you pump your mouth into him deeper, the way your eyebrows furrow when you gag on his tip. “So beautiful,” he whispers, his thumb caressing your cheek, a sweet act that juxtaposes the situation. “Just like that, your pretty mouth takes my cock so well.”

You continue to suck his cock, your hands pumping the parts you aren’t able to reach - you can almost feel how desperate he is every time his tip hits the back of your throat, the throbbing clear. You weren’t used to Jaehyun being needy like this, being so gentle, taking his time - but the thought made you excited. 

“Shit,” he grunts when you pull away from his cock with a pop, moving your head lower to pay attention to his balls before licking a strip up his shaft. Just as you are about to wrap your lips around his cock again, he sits up, cupping your face. “Fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that.”

His lips find yours once again and this time, he’s the one to flip the both of you over. He rids of his jeans that had pooled around his ankles before he climbs into your bed, hovering above you as you spread your legs open, aching for him to finally be inside of you. You had waited for him for a week, you yearned for his presence all those days - and now you were finally being filled by the man you wished for. 

He slides his cock deep inside of your cunt before he begins to move his hips slowly, leaning forward to attach his lips to yours. You could never get enough of his cock, it was as if he was made to fit inside you just right, his tip grazing against your g-spot repeatedly as his tongue dances with yours. You moan into each other’s mouths, your bedroom filled with obscene sounds of saliva and skin slapping against skin. 

“Mine,” he whispers against your neck when he pulls away, hips gently rocking against yours. His cock hits you in just the right places, whines emitting from your lips as he continues to speak. “I want you to be mine.” 

“I am,” you answer, wrapping your legs around his hips in an effort to get him to thrust deeper. He nips at the skin of your neck as he ruts into you. “I’m yours, Jaehyun. I’m all yours.”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer, only responding in deep groans, as he leans back to grab your legs, pulling them over his shoulder to find a better angle in fucking you. When he leans back, you’re almost certain you see tears formed in his eyes, but with you hips slightly lifted from your bed, the angle proving perfect as his cock hits your g-spot even more accurately, you find your thoughts slipping out of your mind when your muffled whines to turn into louder mewls. 

“Jaehyun!” you gasp loudly when he begins to pick up the pace, fingers gripping onto the skin of your thighs so hard that you’re sure they’ll leave marks the next day. You feel your walls begin to spasm around him, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your vision slowly begins to turn into a blur. “Jaehyun, I’m going to cum! Fuck!”

“Don’t cum yet, baby,” he says through strained grunts. “I want to cum together. You’re on the pill right?”

You let out a meek yes as you attempt to hold your orgasm under wraps, finding it hard to do so as the tip of Jaehyun’s cock hits your spot over and over again - your body felt numb and all you wanted to do was to let go, your blurry vision suddenly becoming decorated with stars. “J-Jaehyun, I-I can’t hold it.”

“Yes you can, darling,” he cooed, bringing a hand down to draw circles on your clit with the pad of his thumb. The action has your legs trembling, breath hitching in your throat at the overpowering sensation takes your body. “Hold it for me, you can hold it right? You’re so fucking good to me, that’s why.”

“Jaehyun!” you let out a ripping scream, loud enough to hear it reverberate out your opened bedroom door and down the hallway. Tears begin to form on your waterline at the frustration of your waning orgasm as well as the desperation to let go, letting out a sob as he continues to fuck into you savagely. He drives into your pussy with full force repeatedly, pulling all the way out and snapping back in, and you find it so hard to keep your orgasm under control. “Jaehyun, please!”

“Fuck, baby,” he moans loudly, feeling your walls spasming around him in a frenzy. “Fuck, I love you so fucking much, fuck, cum for me. Cum for me, darling.” 

And you do as he says, finally letting go of your built up orgasm, the sensation ripping through your nerves and causing you to see an entire galaxy behind the darkness of your eyes. The tips of your fingers and toes burnt as if flames kissed them and your body is both sore and numb but with the greatest pleasure. Through the fog, you feel Jaehyun continuing to thrust his cock into you before stalling deep inside your core, spurts of his cum shooting into you and filling you up before he pulls out, streaks of white pouring out after him. 

The both of you come to, panting heavily, before his lips fall onto yours once again, bringing you into a passionate kiss. His lips are familiar to you now, and you cannot even begin to think of a time where they didn’t belong to you. He wraps his arms around you to bring you closer, head resting against your plush pillows before he pulls away. There’s a stray tear that falls from his eye, and you are unsure why it is there.

“I love you, (Y/N),” he whispers, caressing your cheek with his thumb. “I love you so fucking much. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too, Jung Jaehyun,” you whisper, a smile forming on your face, kissing his forehead. The words feel right when they leave your lips, as if they were meant to be said by you and to be heard by him. “Happy birthday, my love.”

You press your lips against his for the final time that night, the electricity clear through the air when he relaxes into you. He smelled like roses, he felt like warmth, and he moved like honey. When you pull away with a gentle smile formed on your face, your thumb wipes away his stray tear, unknowing of the burning pain that had formed them in the first place. 

——-

Waking up to the absence of Jaehyun’s warmth, the bare sheets holding nothing  but the outline of his form, is nothing new to you to start the day with - often, after your affairs at night, the moment sunlight cracks through the night sky, Jaehyun would rise early to sneak back into his own estate in order to avoid a quarrelsome conversation with his father. Instead of waking up with his arms wrapped around your form and kisses against your forehead, you’d only be met with the kisses of sunlight that slips through your creme curtains grazing against your skin, and although you can’t deny the slight disappointment that brews in your stomach at the sight of his absence, you wholly feel a bit relieved every time you’d come to find a note that he’d left you just before taking his leave. 

Recalling your memories of the night prior isn’t an activity that you’re new to, either; you rejoice in the ghost touches left by their former presence as you reply the scenes of pleasure in your mind - Jaehyun’s lips against yours, tongues dancing together like wild flames, his hips rocking into you and fervent as if he wanted to become one with you. As your memories of the night before come to an end, your heart beat waned slightly upon remembering the way Jaehyun had acted. You recall the sight of tears lining his waterline, eyes red and movement filled with desperation and longing. You had fallen asleep before you were able to ask him about it, and he had left far too quickly for you to ask him after waking up.

When you tossed your legs over the edge of your plush mattress, the pads of your feet meeting the carpeted flooring, you had glanced towards your bedside table to see if Jaehyun had left you a note that morning, excitement bubbling in your stomach; the notes that he’d leave for you to read in the morning would range from the most romantic poetry, nothing but sweet nothings written on the page, to the most obscene, filthy string of words, degrading scenarios that he wishes to act upon the next time he sees you which would usually cause a throb to emit in your core early in the morning. Upon looking at your table that morning, though, your bedside table was empty; nothing but your usual reading lamp and phone resting atop the wood. You had furrowed your brows together in confusion at first before pushing the thought out of your mind, deciding not to ponder too much about it. Instead, you eyed your sleeping phone on the table, the device rousing awake with a text notification that had you reaching for it automatically. You had hoped it were the man in question that had occupied your mind since waking up, but you were met with a mere sigh when you see that it’s just your manager, reminding you of the day’s itinerary. 

Another day, another gala that you had to attend, and although this gala may prove to be important to your rise to the head seat of Decoré, you couldn’t help but feel tired of the constant jubilees you had to go to. Since returning back to Seoul from your short trip to California to overlook your boutique’s Los Angeles branch for your mother, you had delved into the planning and designing of your first few clothing pieces - you were excited, you truly were, since you had notebooks upon notebooks filled with your sketches and ideas for clothing pieces that ranged from gowns to the most simplest scarves. Yet, nervousness and apprehension is what eats at your stomach when you realize that your first ever piece, a gown the tone of lavender made entirely of tulle and lace, strewn with colourful flowers as if the sheer fabric had been dragged through a garden, is making its debut tonight. You were unsure what the event is for, only having heard from your mother that it reigns important for the history of Decoré; you knew what she really meant - it brings the company vast amounts of money. Even now, when you sit in a rounded table in the venue with Irene by your side, who had accompanied you for your own encouragement, you can’t seem to stop your fingers from twirling the glass stem that holds your wine.

“Irene,” you concur to your best friend, gulping down vast amounts the liquor Irene had fished for you. Your other hand was preoccupied from fisting at the Christian Dior dress that adorned your body, the strewn golden pendants that hung against the noir silk digging into the skin of your palms. Irene’s hands find their way to yours, snaking her fingers through yours for comfort as she looks at you worriedly. It isn’t that Irene’s presence doesn’t give you a sense of peace, because she’s been slightly successful at her attempts of giving you comfort since the night had started, but perhaps if your mother was here you’d feel a lot more at ease - but, evidently, the weather in New York seems to disregard your feelings, cancelling your mother’s flight back to Seoul that morning. “I don’t think I can do this.” 

“Yes you can, (Y/N),” Irene says in a hushed whisper, careful that other patrons that attended the jubilee won’t bear witness to a future chief executive going through a mild breakdown. She rubs the back of your palm with “You’ve dreamt of this all your life, and you worked so hard on creating this dress. Once the dress is revealed, your weariness will go away, I promise.”

You let out a deep breath at her words, genuinely thankful that she’s there by your side to help you. As you gulp, you nod at her. “Okay,” you huff. “You’re right… you’re right. I can do this.” 

The gala itself is nothing different from other galas you’ve been to - men dressed in their uniform fashion of black and white suit and ties, ladies dressed with the most expensive fabric that sweeps against the floor coupled with their moussed hair and glamorous eye makeup. Unlike most events that you’ve attended, the people that sit around different circular tables housing wine glasses in their palms are unfamiliar to you - you grew up in a social network underneath your mother’s doing, Irene is a part of it, Lucas, who you had met formally several months ago by virtue of your mother, is also a part of it; each and every gala you have been to were filled with people you or your mother knew of - so the unknown characters around you right now, coupled with the unrevealing of your first ever design, ultimately terrifies you. You can pick out a few faces; Irene, of course, your manager, who had been gracing the dessert table for the past hour, and two of your stylists who continuously kept an eye on your hand that had gone back to fisting at the fabric of your dress, weary at wrinkles. 

“(Y/N)?” a familiar voice rings which causes your ear to perk, turning your head to the direction of the tall jolly man who lugs his shorter husband around, and another boy, a much younger boy, follows behind the both of them. Johnny has a quizzical look on his face, as if he were pondering the reason on why you were present - you must have had the same expression too, because he lets out laughter. “It’s peculiar to see you at an event such as this.” 

“I should say the same to you, Johnny.” you say, hand relaxing in Irene’s clasp. She relaxes her fingers and lets your hand go, consequently wiping her hands with a napkin as she makes a teasing quip about how clammy your hands are. You let out a pout at her comment before turning back around towards Johnny - this doesn’t seem like an event he would usually attend as well; he’s more of a youthful socialite gathering type of man, even more peculiar that he’d bring his husband along as well. “Ten, nice to see you again!” 

Ten rings out a smile to you as he leans down to give you a hug, before taking a seat at your table. The younger man who follows behind the two of them is a little awkward in stance, but he doesn’t fail to give you a warm, dashing smile, a calming grin stretched out on his face.

“I’m Jaemin,” he introduces himself, reaching his hand out for a handshake. “You must be (Y/N) (Y/L/N) - Jaehyun and Johnny talk about you a lot.” 

“Is that so?” you let out a laugh, quirking your eyebrows at Johnny who gives you a deadpan look, causing you to giggle. “But it’s very nice to finally meet you, Jaemin!”

The five of you drown the droning sound of classical music through small-chatter, catching up with each other from the past few weeks. Jaemin is a kind boy - charming, but level-headed and mature, he seemed wise beyond his years, and his manners were prim and proper. For a fleeting moment, you had wondered where he had gotten his personality from, seeing as Johnny is a loud, silly man while Jaehyun was more enigmatically rambunctious, but you push the thought out of your head. You think about what he had said when introducing himself to you - Jaehyun talked about you to him?

“So, when is the wedding, Irene?” Ten asks as he sinks the teeth of his fork into a red velvet cheesecake, sliding the fragment it into his mouth before setting his fork back down on the plate. 

“You’ll find out through the invitation cards,” Irene gives him a kilowatt smile, her eyes softening at the mention of the future event. “But it will be next Spring - we have yet to decide where the venue shall be, but when we do, like I said before, you’ll find out through the invitation cards.” 

“Oh, to be married,” Johnny cooed teasingly, as if he weren’t sitting next to his husband. “What a wonderful thing to imagine - finally becoming one with the love of your life during a beautiful ceremony. One can only dream.”

“Johnny Suh,” Ten deadpans, causing you and Irene to let out giggles. “I will not hesitate to shove this entire cake down your mouth, if that’s what you’re trying to hint at.” 

Johnny lets out a loud laughing, bringing his husband close for a hug as the shorter man, pouting, takes another bite out of his cheesecake. “I’m just joking,” Johnny says. “Being married to you is like a dream for me every single day.”

You watch the couple with admiration as they slowly begin to begin to chatter into their own world, gentle smiles and soft gazes exchanged between them; you’ve grown used to seeing the people around you amorous with their partners, but you still cannot deny the feeling of envy that creeps up in your stomach every time you were faced with a happy couple. It’s not that you want them to break up, because you would never wish for a beautiful pairing to split, no matter who they are, but it’s because you’ve still yet to find the one who could bring you into your own little world. You tear your gaze away from them to let them have their own privacy, bringing your attention to your fingers decorated with rings that range from Daniel Villegas to Swarovski,  but an emptiness pools in your heart when you realize none of them truly holds a significant meaning to you.

For a fleeting moment, Jaehyun’s face flashes in your mind, but you push it out of your thoughts as quickly as it had arrived. 

You quickly come to when you hear the dull tapping of a mic blare throughout the grand hall, a hush falling over the attendees as they redirect their attention towards the front of the venue, towards the mini platform that had housed the mini orchestra. Two men stand atop the platform, each clad in a dark grey suits by Johnston; you squint your eyes just slightly in order to make out their faces against the harsh spotlight that had shone onto them. One man seemed familiar, his hair greying and thinning, wrinkles of age outstretching the skin of his face, and you identify him as Mr. Jung, whom you met at the politician’s event last week. You are quizzical as to why they are here, wondering if this was a gala hosted by the Jung family. As you wondered, your eyes turn to the man beside him, only to find his eyes already on you. 

You gasped slightly when you see Jung Jaehyun, the ash blonde tone of his hair long gone and replaced with jet black locks, slicked away from his forehead and styled much like the first time you had seen him - he stands tall, as he always does, hands firm at his side and facial features juxtaposing each other as if he were modern art, but his eyes, the eyes that you’ve grown used to seeing desire, confidence, and adoration, are instead filled with nothing but alarm. He stares at you with widened eyes, his jaw visibly tightening as he seems to stop breathing for a fleeting moment, and at his unusual gait, a sense of doom rises in your stomach. 

“I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight,” Mr. Jung’s gruff voice blares through the speakers while he holds the microphone close to his mouth. “Today is a very, very special night for Jung & Associates; a very special night for my beloved son, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun finally tears his eyes from yours to look at his father, flashes the audience a kilowatt smile, as if he hadn’t looked at you with such alarm just mere seconds ago. 

“As we all know, my time as CEO of Jung & Associates has already come to an end, and I figured, with one last bang, why don’t I announce my son’s rise to the chair with a celebration?” he turns towards Jaehyun, whose lips are pressed tightly in a line. “I know that he’ll prove to be an amazing chief executive; he’s responsible, articulate, and intelligent - he is the son I have always dreamt of, and he is everything Jung & Associates has aimed for in our empire.”

You see Johnny‘s jaw clench from beside you against the dim lighting, and on the other side of the table, you see Jaemin gulp, and you couldn’t help but frown at how much pain their own father’s words must have caused the both of them. You reach out in an attempt to squeeze Johnny’s arm as a sense of comfort, as he is much closer to you physically, but a voice that causes your nerves to run wild inside of you blares through the speakers, causing you to pause mid-action and look back towards the platform. 

“Thank you, father,” Jaehyun says when the older man gives him the microphone, he toys with the wire before clearing his throat, looking back into the audience. “I’m very excited for the journey I’ll be taking with Jung & Associates; this has been my dream since I was a child, so I’m really happy to be here today.”

There is a pregnant pause in the air, and he takes a hitched breath. “As well for another announcement,” Jaehyun continues. “I’m very excited to announce a new era for Jung & Associates - we have merged with Kim & Park Law, an honour as we move into a bigger empire. Helping people is what both of our firm’s prioritize, so it only felt right.“

An applause breaks out in the crowd, and politely, you clap too, although you are unsure as to what was going on. You wondered how your design was going to be shown, when it will be revealed; you should have inquired your manager before arriving - this doesn’t seem like the correct environment for a revealing.

“That being said, I have one last announcement. I’m sure all of you are wondering just why I’m talking about the future of the merge between Jung & Associates Kim & Park Law, when we’ve merged with plenty other companies in the past. Well, it’s due to the fact that the worries of the future does not only pertain to the company, but to my personal life as well,” he pauses, and he looks around the room for a fleeting moment, but when his eyes land on yours, it seems as if the moment had lasted for years. A woman, a beautiful woman of tall stature with glowing blonde hair and skin kissed slightly by the sun walks up to the platform to stand next to Jaehyun, and adorned on her form is your design, with its lavender fabric that shines against the spotlight as if it were painted onto her skin, whose flowers decals swept against the floor in youthful, yet graceful, wonder. When Jaehyun finally tears his gaze from yours to look at her, she gives him a smile filled with love, and Jaehyun, with his dimples carved deep into the corners of his mouth, smiles back. 

“Chaeyoung Park, the beautiful daughter of one of the co-founder of Kim & Park Law, is to be my wife. Tonight, I am announcing our engagement.”

The doom that had been brewing in your stomach for the past few days had penetrated into your heart when the words absorb into your eardrums; the sinking feeling inside of you and the twisting pain that had erupted in your chest drowned out the applause and cheers of duress that had taken over the sound waves of the hall, your breath hitching in your throat as you wish only for the ground to swallow you whole. Johnny and Ten turn towards you, their eyes widened in horror as they open their mouths frantically, but you are unable to hear what they are saying. Irene, beside you, grabs your hand once more and rests her other one atop the back of your hand, and when you turn towards her, when you meet her heartbroken, pitiful gaze, when you realize that you and Jung Jaehyun, the man who had not only taken your opportunity of glory by taking away the attention from your first ever design, had also decided to tear your heart and soul apart in the most painful fashion.

The last thing you had remembered before your eyesight became a blur was forcefully standing up, the screeching of the legs of your chair hushed by the audience’s celebration, and walking out of the hall with Irene running after you as you will yourself to not let the tears spill past your waterline.

You come to when the moonlight that casts down into your dark bedroom causes your interior to glow ethereally; perhaps, if it were your usual day, you would stop to admire the setting - but even the most extravagant view is dust to you now as you wreak broken sobs of dismal into Irene’s comforting arms. 

“He’s not worth your tears, (Y/N),” Irene comforts you, motherly hand caressing your hair as she lets you sob. She hums soothingly as she does so, your body trembling in ache. “He’s just another ignorant, immature boy. He’ll bring the end of this stupid law firm while you’ll continue to reign with Decoré.”

“It hurts so much, Irene,” you sob into the fabric of her Elie Saab garment, guilty that you’re staining the silk with your heartbroken tears. “My heart hurts so much, he told me he loved me just last night and I told him I loved him back. I should have listened to you, how could I have trusted him? How could I be so thoughtless?”

“Shh,” Irene’s voice is soothing as she pushes you back to look at your face. “I will say, I did warn you. However, you can’t control your curiosity nor who you love, (Y/N). And yes, although you fell in love with a man of whom I want to do nothing else to but murder, you were not being thoughtless. You just did what you thought was right.”

“Nothing I did was right,” you wipe the tears that streamed down your face. “If I did what was right, then I would have never caught sight of him that first night, then I would have never met Johnny, then I would have never kept running into him in different countries, and I would have never fallen in love with him.”

She tucks a hair behind your ear before wiping your tears with her thumb, smearing some of your mascara and eyeliner underneath your red, swollen eyes. She smiles with a bittersweetness. “Everything happens for a reason, (Y/N).”

You change out of your dress, hem stained by grass and dirt marks from walking carelessly through the front garden towards the entrance when you were leaving the gala, and Irene stays outside your door as she informs Seokjin that she’ll be staying over at your home. She doesn’t tell her fiancé what had happened, deciding to keep it a secret between the two of you, and Johnny and Ten. You let out a sigh as you remember the two men’s shocked faces when they had turned to you, anger and denial clear in their faces; were you and Jaehyun not as discreet as you had thought? Your stomach twisted in pain when you think of more options; had Jaehyun lied to you about keeping it a secret?

“Irene?” your voice is meek when you reach out to her arm as the two of you lay beside each other in your plush bed hours after your sobbing had calmed down. She hums, flipping her sleeping mask away from her eyes as she looks at you. “How did you know about Jaehyun and I?” 

She waits for a few seconds, as if pondering on what to say. “The tension between the two of you was claustrophobic,” she says after a few seconds. “You also both held these... certain gazes towards each other. Gazes that I gave Seokjin when I pined for him, and gazes that I still give him now.” 

Your stomach twists once more as tears spring against your waterline. Perhaps asking wasn’t the correct decision. You sniff, in an attempt to calm your emotions. “Oh.”

“It’ll be okay, (Y/N),” Irene sighs, her hand on top of yours in an effort to comfort you, acknowledging your shaking voice. “It will be hard, but you can find a better man. A better man than Jaehyun had ever been.”

“Of course.” you whisper. “Goodnight, Irene.”

“Goodnight.”

Later that night, when Irene’s soft snoring emits from her form beside you, you reach for your phone that slept against your bedside table. When you rouse it awake, a dull pain seeps into your heart at the sight of the notifications that lined your screen; all of them were from Jaehyun. A tear escapes your eyes as you unlock your device, willing yourself to not read the countless messages he had sent you, almost enraged at his ignorance for even thinking of doing such a thing - was it his goal to mock you, to taunt you of how your body was under control of his lips? 

You think back on his actions towards you for the past year you’ve been aware of his existence, filled with aching eyes and desired touches, small exchanges of soft smiles and slight smirks. Had that all just been an act, for him? Had he looked at you with lust, only to go back home and give his girlfriend, his fiancée, the same ones - only this time, with authentic emotions? Had he spent the last year making it seem as if he were the one pining after you, when in reality, you were the one that had those feelings? Had he doused the three words he said on your last affair in a brew of lies before letting them absorb into your eardrums? Had wickedness glowed in his heart when you uttered the same three words back? 

Because, as you continue upon thinking more about the situation, late that night, you realize that his fiancée was not the one that hurt you - she probably had no clue about all of this, just as you had been. 

You were the other woman.

Your heart clenches in your chest sending a wreck of pain through your nerves, biting your lip to muffle back a broken sob as thoughts fly into your mind at a pace you had never encountered before.

Jung Jaehyun knew you; he knew all your secrets when you uttered them in his ear when you would lay next to him in bed, he knew of your quirks that would slip out when trying to keep your relations discreet in the public eye, he knew of the facade that you would put up after stepping past the gates of your house, he knew what your body liked and craved and how to get you to slip over the edge when he would fuck you, he knew of your goals, he knew of your wishes, he knew of your desire for love and marriage - but you knew nothing about Jung Jaehyun.

You swallow once in an attempt to calm the increasing regret that begins to fill your stomach before tapping your screen one final time that night, the block button that sits underneath his contact emitting a light blue before his number finally disappears from your device, deleting your text conversations, erasing every lingering retention of Jung Jaehyun.

-----

The plain taste of water fills your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps you should have ordered a much more tasteful drink to accompany the savoury meal in front of you, of different breads, seasonings and pastas. Your shoulders are straight as you sit in the chair of crushed velvet, corset at a comfortable tightness as you keep a watchful gaze on the people around you. A sigh escapes your mouth when you spot a lovely couple seated a few seats away from you, hands outstretched and on top of each other against the wooden table, love full in their eyes as they gazed at each other in admiration.  

Perhaps coming here was the wrong idea. 

Three years ago, you were brought to the chair of Decoré after the sudden passing of your mother, a tragic event that graced headlines much to your grief in utter remembrance - the year of her death was an ache to you, every person you turned to would bring it up, which would only spark tears in your eyes and pain in your chest. Becoming used to the chair was not an easy task at all either, having to give up the modelling career that you had forged from a young age in order to focus fully on the company’s strings - and you didn’t have your mother to help you either. As the years went by, you formed into a different woman; long gone was the girl who put a mask in front of the public in order to keep her reputation spotless, long gone was the girl who calculated her movements in order to keep an outrage from sparking - however, sometimes, when all the lights in your lonesome penthouse are turned off and all you can hear is the distant buzz of the streets below, you would silently cry to yourself, wishing like a child that everything hadn’t changed so drastically. 

You and Irene are still in contact, as close as ever, and you had the will to have invited you on your trip - but due to her growing family and growing pregnant belly, she was most likely unable to accompany you on your planned rendezvous’ these recent days; Johnny, ever the positive man, also continued to contact you as well, albeit sparsely - but the incident that had happened caused a strain to form on your friendship - he treated you like a ticking time bomb, careful with his words in order to not let a memory spring in your mind. Last you heard, he had adopted two little twin girls with his husband. You, on the other hand, admittedly have had your nights of pleasure, hooking up with random men dressed in fancy custom suits that you’d meet at random lounges and events, but they were never serious. They would always leave right after your affair ends. Your ring finger bears no band, and you’re unsure if it ever will.

Presently, you sit at a lounge, someplace in Milan, celebrating the opening of a new boutique in your favoured city, lonesome. In due fairness, you were planning to ask your secretaries and closest employees to accompany you, but after the hard work they had put into opening the new branch in a foreign country, you opted to give them the rest of the day off instead. As crowds of people chatted amongst themselves in duress, all you can do is sip hesitantly at your water and pick at your food, regretting the idea of coming here alone. It seems as the universe is mocking you, as well, decorations of hearts and and cupids littered against the walls of the restaurant, as today is Valentine’s day - everyone around you is on a date, perhaps their first or one of many, and you are sitting there, alone, completely out of place. 

Yes, coming here was definitely the wrong idea.

Yet, you couldn’t bear to let the food you had ordered and had people put their backbone into making to go to waste, so instead of standing up to retrieve your tweed coat hung on the backrest of your chair, you continue to eat quietly, by yourself, underneath the guise of being distracted by your phone screen. As you ponder about the what-ifs, thinking about having ordering room service from the comfort of your hotel room instead, a waitress props a tall, skinny glass of a familiar liquid in front of you. 

“Domaine de la romanée-cont, Ms. (Y/L/N),” she greets you with a gracious smile, bowing her head slightly. “From the gentleman at the bar.”

You furrow your eyebrows together in bewilderment at the glass before thanking the waitress and sending her on her way. You study the flute intently, gazing at it’s red liquid that seemed to glow against the yellow lighting of the restaurant, before wrapping your fingers around it to take it towards your lips. The bitter taste of domaine de la romanée-cont graces your taste buds when the liquid engulfs your mouth and you think to yourself, perhaps the theory of a maturing palate is true, you do not favour the taste of the wine that you would eagerly look for at events when you were younger and in your old household - but it also brings another memory to you, a distant recalling, eyes that you have not looked into for the past few years embedding into your brain when the taste hits your tongue. 

Jung Jaehyun is a distant name to you now, the taste of his name slipping off your tongue becoming a foreign feeling as each day passes, fingerprints he left on your skin slowly eroding away through time. Often, you’d see his face on the screen of your television, read his name on front pages of magazines that they’d display at those corner stores you’d idly pass by, or hear his name in hushed chatter from people around you engrossed in their own conversation - but as quickly as he had nearly ingrained himself into your life once more, you’d change the channel, or flip the page, or tune out of the conversation. Although no parts of you hold no bearing of the memoirs of Jung Jaehyun, sometimes, you’d find yourself laying awake at night, wishing for the memories that still lay in the cavities of your brain to come to life once again, to feel his fingerprints burn into your skin much like they had five years ago - but as a chief executive at the age of twenty-seven, all you can do is tell yourself to grow up, and force yourself to do paperwork instead of wishing for something that will never come true. 

So when you spot Jung Jaehyun sat at the dark mahogany bar after looking for the man who had paid for this drink, with his umber eyes boring into yours, you are unsure on how to act.

He is as beautiful as the first time you laid eyes on him, his facial features a stunning juxtaposition as the dim overhead lighting of the bar accentuates his sleek cheeks and soft jawline, his sharp lips and soft, brown eyes. His hair, remaining a jet-black, much like the first time that you had seen him, is brushed over his forehead messily. He wears a simple white button up shirt, the first two buttons undone, tucked into a pair of black trousers adorned with a belt. On his wrist, as he cradles a glass of champagne as he watches you, is a golden watch from Louis Vuitton, His mouth is pulled into a straight line, and in his eyes, hold observe, as if he were waiting for how you would react. Even now, when he approaches you and sits in the chair opposite from yours, his eyes still hold a deep meaning. 

Upon meeting his eye, it seems as if all the memories you have buried deep into your brain becomes uncovered, images flashing before your eyes in montages like an old film movie; his eyes gazing into yours with desire, fingers pressing into your skin as to leave a crater of himself on your form, lips ghosting the crook of your neck when he used to roll his hips into you - the act alone is enough to make you gasp from both shock and hurt, tears slightly beginning to tease your waterline, but you take note of the environment around you and decide that you shouldn’t act out. 

“Jung Jaehyun,” you finally speak, keeping your tone unwavering. “It’s been a while.”

“It has.” he speaks, setting the bottom of his glass against the white cloth. Jet black strands fall past his eyes and he brushes them back, before meeting his eyes with you again. “I hope you have been well, (Y/N).”

“I have.” you answer him, switching your gaze back and forth between his eyes - what was his goal in speaking to you like this; you do not hold an inkling of care for him as you once did, was his plan to taunt you of your old affairs? You decide not to thank him on his greeting, nor return it, and continue to speak venomously. “Why are you here?”

He seems taken aback from your blunt answers, stilling for only a fleeting moment before parting his lips again. “I’m here to oversee the Milan branch,” he answers you in a strain. “I was just enjoying a night out when I saw you, and I wanted to greet you again.”

“Alright.” you simply give him a simper, setting your fork down before you push the avoided glass of domaine de la romanée-cont towards him. He watched your action with puzzled eyes. “I don’t like the taste of this wine anymore; you should have just kept your money in your pocket.”

“Oh,” is all he could say. “I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything, instead, you begin to pack up your belongings into your purse, quickly arranging the utensils of the finished meal in front of you to help the waitresses clean your table easier for when you leave. You avoid his gaze when you finally stand up, taking your tweed coat hanging off the backrest of your seat and sliding it on, brushing your hair out from being tucked into it. 

“Goodbye, Mr. Jung.” you tell him, still not attempting to hold his watchful eye as you turn on your heel and walked towards the exit, not wanting to hear any words slip past his lips. You are appalled, could a man really be so ignorant, to attempt to mock you in front of your face, even years later? Perhaps he still held himself in high regard from the past, and though a small part of you wreaks with hurt, slight tears springing to your eyes when the February air kisses your cheeks as you walk past the doors, anger still continues to move through your nerves. 

“(Y/N),” you hear his voice following after you as you walk through the cobblestone walkways, the calm waters of the Navigli canal that was located right at the exit juxtaposing the emotions that stir inside of you at the sound of his voice. “Please, I just want to talk.”

You continue to walk away from him, hearing his fast footsteps a few meters behind yours. “You had the chance to talk to me years ago before that night.” you simply say, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat from the cold air. “I’m afraid you’ve lost your chance.”

“(Y/N),” he sighs, and you hear him begin to jog to your side, and once he comes into view, all you can do is bump past him in a fit of aggravation. “Please, listen to me. Just let me talk.”

“I don’t have time to talk. I run a company. Don’t you?” you say in a hard tone. You hear his footsteps come to a stop and you let out a relieved sigh at the thought - you just wanted to leave past him and never see him again, just as he had done to you all those years ago; his voice causes you to halt, just seconds later. 

“I do not.” his voice is a few meters away from you but the tone of his voice causes your step to falter, and you widen your eyes at the discovery. 

You furrow your eyebrows together before pivoting on his heel to face him, finding his form closer to your body than you had anticipated. “What do you mean?”

“Jung & Associates isn’t under my command anymore. I gave up the position to my youngest brother, Jaemin, who was more ready than I ever was,” he tells you, eyes dark, voice genuine, but the wall that has built before your heart causes your form to stay rigid. “Have you not seen the articles going around, (Y/N)? I did this nearly two years ago. I want no responsibility of the sort - father nearly kicked me out of the family for my choices, but I’m just Jung Jaehyun now.”

You weigh the options of believing him and avoiding his words for a few seconds, opting for the latter as you let out a scoff. The calm waters beside the two of your forms stays moving in slow waves. “Don’t expect me to believe your lies, Jaehyun.”

“I’m not lying.” he says. “I have never lied to you.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” you spit, and a sense of hurt flashes in his eyes - you want to slap him, how dare he feel hurt at your words when he’s caused you greater hurt than you’ve ever felt. “How can you expect me to believe you when everything we’ve ever done together was based on false words?”

“Don’t say that, (Y/N),” he says, reaching out towards you but you slap his hand away - retracting his arm as more pain pools into his pupils. You feel the tears finally begin to tease your waterline the moment you had touched him, letting out a soft cry. “What we had was real, and you know that.”

“No, it wasn’t.” you tell him, attempting to keep your tone unwavering. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me again, Jung Jaehyun. I was the other woman, and you never had the audacity to tell me. You never had the audacity to at least give me the chance to end whatever... we were.”

“(Y/N).” he says, simply, but you only tear your eyes off of him, letting out a sigh of annoyance as you look at the calm waters of the canal beside you. 

”Please, just leave me be. Don’t you have a wife to take care of?”

“I don’t,” he tells you, and his words cause you to look at him again with puzzled eyes. He parts his lips again to speak. “Me and Chaeyoung were engaged under business terms - it was never real between us, I couldn’t bare marrying a woman I didn’t love, nor could she, so I ended the merge and our engagement, which cut my ties to the chair.”

You let out a breath at listening to him, eyes falling downcast to the ground, attempting to keep the tears from slipping down your cheeks, but you fail, the streaks hot against your face against the cool air. 

“Why would you do that?” you ask him in a hushed tone. 

He whispers back. “Life is a risk, isn’t it?”

Silence seduces the air between the two of you for a few seconds, the only sounds heard is the distant soundtrack of cars moving past the roads and the slight sloshing of the bed of water beside the two of you. His shoulders rise as he takes a deep breath, and then he parts his lips open. 

“The first time I saw you,” he says, taking a step towards you before bringing a hand up to wipe your tears from your face, his presence so close to you. “It was at your mother’s gala, that one spring. I was there due to my father’s orders to coax your mother into having us buy Decoré. I knew who you were, after researching the revenue of your company - but when I saw you... I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I came home that night, my father was angry that I couldn’t go through one task he had asked me to do - and he gave me a choice. Buy your company, or merge with another company by marriage.”

You keep quiet, letting his words pour into your ears as you listen intently, every syllable hard hitting to your chest as you feel your stomach begin to pool with trust.

“I remember I kept bumping into you in different cities,” he lets out a soft chuckle, juxtaposing the tears that are welling up in his eyes. “Bordeaux, Cebu... I remember butterflies going wild in my stomach when I saw you at the resort in Cebu, but my mind was set. I needed to talk to you, and so I ordered you your wine, and I finally was able to.”

You let out a shaky breath as you continue to listen to him, your mind swirling with thoughts but becoming silenced when he cradles your cheek in his palm.

“And that night in Milan,” he pauses, his hands cupping your cheeks now, an action burning into your skin much like the first few times he had done it long ago. “When I saw you walking down the runway with that wedding dress, walking towards me at the end of the runway… it all just made sense.”

You gasp lightly, widening your eyes at the realization of his words, and it is at your reaction that causes his tears to finally fall from his own eyes, staining his red cheeks with wet streaks. It is an action that causes you to recall the last time you had been entangled with him, wiping his tears away as the both of you whisper the three words that you’ve become so scared of uttering.

“Do you want to know the reason why I held such detest for Johnny, all those years ago?” he asks you, and you do not answer, continuing to look at him in bewilderment. “It was because I was jealous that he could live a life freely while I could not. It was because I was jealous that he could start his own career from what he favoured to do, and I had to take on the responsibilities of the family. It was because I envied the fact that he could marry whomever he wanted,” he paused, only for a brief moment, but it felt like millennia when all you could feel at that moment was your nerves exploding at his words. 

“And that I could not marry you.”

His lips are like home to you, warm against yours and sending a frenzy through your nerves, and you realize, perhaps you never really did forget the way his lips meshed against yours, and how it felt to feel his presence burn into your skin. Even as tears streamed down both of your cheeks as your lips mold into each other with both yearning and passion. You are unsure of how many moments you stand like that, still, hearing the water move beside the both of you quietly, the stars above you twinkling in their delight much like the lamp posts that litter the street, lips dancing against each other. Your hands are tangled in his hair, each strand brushing against your fingers and palms in a familiar dance, as his hands cup against your mouth - and you realize why you have grown to dislike the taste of domaine de la romanée-cont, the wine you use to favour - it’s because you have found your favourite taste in Jaehyun’s lips.

You find your hands having a mind of their own when you pull him by the collar of his coat, bringing him closer to you, and within seconds you are hastily leading him through the walkways towards your hotel. Your lips are still molded together at the front of the hotel, at the entrance of the lobby, the warm yellow lights that emit from the chandeliers inside spilling out to your forms. Perhaps, years ago, you would never do such a brash act in public - but at present, you could care less for the possible paparazzi loitering around the area, you could care less of the stares that the both of you attract when you drag him through the lobby towards the elevator shafts, stepping in, never once moving away from each other. When you pull away with panting breaths, he presses his forehead to yours, his eyes closed as his tears calm. His hands are still placed on your waist, unwilling to let go, and the both of you relish in each other’s presence for a moment, letting silence overtake you; slowly letting the other settle back into their life, dwelling themselves in the space that they had used to take. 

“I want you,” he whispers, the ghost of his breath brushing against your nose as you let your hands fall from the strands of his hair and onto his cheeks. One of his hands make it on top of yours, warm against your skin. “I want you so fucking bad.”

“You have me now,” you whisper, hands trailing from his cheeks towards the hardening member underneath the fabric of his trousers. “So please ruin me.” 

Both of your bodies deem impatient when the bell sounds with a ding!, announcing that the two of you had arrived to the floor of your penthouse - you are only thankful that the immediate first step from exiting the elevator is already your lounge room, discarding your coat onto the ground as you swiftly push Jaehyun further into your penthouse. His hands have transitioned from gentle touches to rougher grips, arms wrapped around your waist now, letting you lead the way as his slick tongue slips past yours. He moans into the kiss as you push him down towards the suede black couch that decorates your lounge; your knees are on both sides of him, straddling him, never once breaking your kiss. You run your fingers through his hair as he leans back against the backrest of the couch, fingers tracing down your clothed spine and then cupping your ass through the fabric of your noir Dior dress. You pull away from his lips slightly to let out a moan that had been building up since you had last seen him - you hadn’t realized how much your body ached for his touch.

“So eager...” he whispers as you pant out, his lips attaching onto your neck, reminding your skin of what his tongue had felt like. He slowly moves his hands underneath your dress, rolling the tight fabric up over your bottom, your bare-skin now exposed to the cool temperature of your penthouse. His hands are warm against your flesh before he raises his hand to smack your pad of skin lightly, the contact causing a sound to ripple through the air as you let out a soft gasp. You feel him smirk against your skin. “You like that, darling?”

The nickname that slipped past his tongue causes your core to throb, having not heard those words from him in so long - it’s laughable really, how you were still underneath Jung Jaehyun’s five years later, even after you swore never to pine for him again. Your cheeks heat up as he continues to smack your ass, leaning back now to watch your facial expressions, a smug smirk on his face. “Look at you. You like being spanked, darling?” he taunts you, and your core throbs once more. 

You bite down on your lip to suppress a moan as you nod your head, his hits slowly begin to turn harder, pain burning into your skin - but you love it all; Jaehyun puts his mark onto you again, this time, they’ll never fade away. He spanks you sharply, and you let a yelp emit from your lips. “That’s it,” he grins when he hears your whine, his black hair brushing past his eyes. “Let it out, darling. Make the entire hotel know what I’m doing to you.”

You find yourself rocking your hips slowly after every spank, rutting your wet panties against the swelling hardness in Jaehyun’s trousers. You hadn’t realized what you had been doing until he lets out a low groan, craning his neck backwards at the sensation of your clothed heats grinding into each other. He grips his fingers into the flesh of your ass as you continue. 

“You’re so fucking hard already,” you whisper, the outline of his cock against your core causing shudders to rake through your nerves. He bites down on his lip as his eyes flutter shut, causing you to smirk; you rut your hips faster. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone sensitive, Jaehyun. It would be such a bummer if you cum so early in our affair.” 

He seems to snap back into reality at your sentence, eyes opening and craning his neck straight to look towards you, umber eyes turning a shade dark before one of his hands find their way against your clothed heat. “You’ve gotten brave,” he says in a hushed tone. “Just because I haven’t fucked you in a while doesn’t mean you can take control. That’s not how it works, darling.”

“I can take control over you whenever I wa-“ you start, but your sentence is cut short at the feeling of Jaehyun pushing your thin panties to the side before harshly pressing his long fingers into you, causing you to lean forward at the sensation that you have yearned for so long. In the corner of your eye, you see him smirk in arrogance, but you cannot say anything - not when he’s already began to fuck his finger into you. “Fuck, Jaehyun!”

“Finish your sentence.” he whispers calmly, as if his digits weren’t doing something so obscene. “You know how much I hate it when people don’t finish their sentences. You can take control of me? Is that what you were gonna say?”

“J-Jaehyun!” you mewl, legs buckling as you lose your balance on top of him, your hips having a mind of their own as you begin to rock your hips against his fingers. He moves you swiftly, so that your back is against his chest, legs spread with the help of his own, his fingers pushing in and out of you so deliciously. 

“Answer my fucking question, slut.” he says, baritone voice deep in your ear. 

The name causes you to gasp, sinful words and the sensation of his long, thick digits spreading you apart after so long already having you see stars in your eyes. “J-Jaehyun,” you whimper, voice wavering with every pump he fucks into you. “I was w-wrong. Y-You have control over me. I’m yours.”

You feel him smile against your ear. “Good.” he praises you, the pads of his fingers brushing against your sweet spot that causes your toes to curl and for you to let out a sweet mewl. “Now tell me how good of a whore you are and if I should let you cum or not. Did you let other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite down on your lip as his digits pick up the pace, moving in and out of your hole with sopping sounds; the room is filled with a sinful soundtrack of Jaehyun’s dirty words, your breathy whimpers, and the sound of his palm slapping against your cunt. He brushes past your spot again, which causes you to buck your hips, letting out a louder mewl. He pushes your waist down with his free hand, wrapping his legs around yours to bring them wider, fully having you encompassed in his body. His fingers do not stop though, they ram against your sweet spot repeatedly, earning high-pitched moans to emit from your throat; all that you are able to say, is his name. “Don’t you fucking listen?” he growls into your ear, digits ruthless as they continue to fuck into you, stretching your walls out the way you like. “Tell me. Did other people fuck your cunt while I was gone?”

You bite onto your lip and weigh your options, whether you should tell him the truth, or not. Throughout the past five years of not wanting to face Jaehyun, you have accumulated quite a list of men that you had hooked up with for the enjoyment of one single night - many of them left you unsatisfied, but anything was better than you being left to your own devices. Tears begin to spring your eyes at the doubled speed Jaehyun was going now - you had forgotten how ruthless he is in bed, just the way you like it. 

“Yes.” you decide to tell him the truth, although, you come to regret it when Jaehyun pulls his wet fingers out of you and slaps your cunt, your sensitive clit hit with dull thud of pain before he plunges his fingers deep into you again.

“Dirty whore,” he spits, but you’re unable to answer at the amount of pleasure overtaking your core. “Who? Who fucked you while I was gone? Tell me all of them or else you won’t get to cum.”

You tighten your walls around his fingers when he brushes past your spot for the nth time but he pulls his fingers out of you before you are able to be pushed to the edge, the built up high slowly fading just slightly before he plunges them back in again, a mewl emitting from your lips when realizing that your orgasm has to be built once again. “Jaehyun!” you whine, bucking your hips in aggravation against his ruthless hand, but he tightens his grip on you. 

“I fucking said, tell me who fucked you,” he says through grit teeth. “Or else you won’t be able to cum at all.”

“N-Nakamoto Yuta,” you whisper. Your walls spasm around his fingers again, when he brushes the pads of his digits against your spot. You let out a moan as the pleasure rakes through your body, but you continue to power through, aching for your orgasm to rip through your limbs. “Kim Taehyung, L-Lee Minhyuk,” his fingers seem to bear no ending as they continue to fuck in and out of you while you recite each name that you are able to recall under the circumstance, but all that comes to and end when you utter the last name. “Kim Doyoung.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and hastily grabs your hair, forming it into a makeshift ponytail as he pulls your head closer to him. His grip on your scalp is tight and you let out a cry of pain as well as annoyance at your ruined orgasm - yet, you wanted more. He slowly moves you to the side, standing up from the couch and setting his feet in front of you, towering over your form, and you feel your heart sink in both fear and excitement. 

“Kim Doyoung?” he chuckles lowly, slightly tugging on your hair harshly before redirecting your gaze to his belt, and your breath hitches in your throat at the realization of what he wants you to do. “So tell me, darling. Did he fuck you until you couldn’t walk, just like you wanted?”

Out of all the men that you had found yourself in bed with, often random strangers who believed it would be a stepping stone towards achieving your empire by your side, Kim Doyoung was one that you were not expecting. After running into him in a jazz lounge in New York City; the both of you caught up on what the other had missed, apologized for not staying in contact - and as each glass of liquor passed by the both of you in blurs, you quickly come to when both of your forms were barely able to make it to his bed, having bent you over the kitchen counter of his penthouse as he drilled into you from behind. 

Just like Jaehyun, Doyoung was ruthless - he left marks on your skin that you had to cover for almost a week before you were certain they weren’t to be seen by the media, and for the entire day after the ordeal, you had deemed too sore to walk, having to call into your headquarters to inform them that you would be working from home that day. However, unlike Jaehyun, you held no connection with Doyoung - his gaze, though filled with lust and desire, held no longing and yearning for who you really are; his touch, though pleasurable and able to bring you to the edge, did not light fires against your skin. 

As you pull Jaehyun’s pants down, his throbbing cock slapping against his stomach, the memories of that night are pushed out of your mind at the expense of your desire. You quickly wrap your hands around his shaft, thick and large - your core twitching at the thought of his cock stretching you out again. You part your lips before you swirl your tongue on his pink tip, the sensation of your slick tongue slathering around him letting a low groan emit from his throat. “Shit, baby,” he groans, relaxing his grip on your hair, pushing stray strands away from your face to get a better view. 

“Fuck, I missed your pretty little mouth so much.”

You had forgotten how big he was when you attempt to take all of him into your throat, a gagging sound reverberating off the walls of your penthouse, which causes him to groan louder. “Shit,” he hisses, and he begins to rock his hips slowly. “Yeah, that’s right, choke on my cock like the dirty little whore you are.”

His throbbing tip hits the back of your throat in repeated beats, tears springing into your eyes as your gagging causes more saliva to flow out your mouth. He slowly begins to thrust faster, craning his head back at how good your throat feels around him; the grip he held in your hair tightens once again, keeping your head in place as he fucks your mouth. “Mmm, shit,” he grunts. “So fucking good. Such a whore, letting me fuck your throat, hm? Fuck! I missed you so fucking much.”

Obscenities fall from his lips as he continued to rut into your mouth, lewd noises of saliva against flesh emitting throughout the room; tears stained with mascara line down your face but you keep your hands trained on his hips as support - you’re almost sure that your sopping heat has begun to stain the fabric of the couch you sat atop. He thrusts once more, slowly this time, a guttural grunt sounding from his chest as he stuff your mouth - the tip of your nose tickles the base of his cock, and you screw your eyes shut to combat your gagging reflex, before he pulls out, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. 

“Please fuck me,” you beg him, leaning back into the couch as you desperately spread your legs apart, inviting him to your wet pussy. You pout at him through teary eyes, not bothering to wipe the saliva that lines your mouth, not bothered at the saliva that had stained your expensive dress, wanting nothing more than to be fucked already. “Please fuck me, I need you so bad. Please, Jaehyun.”

“Such an eager whore,” he chuckles as he moves in closer, positioning his cock against your pussy before he reaches to the top of your dress. He uncovers your chest roughly, you’re almost sure you can hear the slight ripping of fabric when he does, but you don’t care - not when his cock slides between your folds like that, barely attempting to plunge in. “I thought you were busy running a business? Looks like you have plenty of time to fuck.”

“Jaehyun, please...” you whine each time his tip passes by your entrance, but he continues to slather your lingering saliva and his pre-cum all over your pussy. “Please just fuck me, Jaehyun. Please.”

He smirks in arrogance before he drives into you with no warning, knocking the air out of you as you barely have time to readjust to his size before he begins to slam into you repeatedly, causing your voice ripping through the air as you scream his name repeatedly. “Jaehyun! Jaehyun!”

“You’ve become such a slut while I was gone, darling,” he grunts as he grabs onto your legs for balance as he stretches out your cunt, spreading your legs further. You are certain your body will never forget this sensation now, just as delicious as the first time he had done it, your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Did you forget who your cunt belongs to?”

You are unable to form a sentence as each push into you just continues to knock the air out of your lungs, mewling in pleasure at his cock sliding against your slick walls. His hands gripped at your waist roughly, watching you bounce underneath him in your glory; your hair splayed around your face as if handpicked like fresh daisies. You feel your orgasm nearing, but Jaehyun seems to have no qualms for stopping, continuing to pull out of you entirely before snapping back in even as he feels your walls quivering. “Cumming already?” he growls, voice strained as he rocks his core wildly. “What a fucking slut.”

Gripping at the sheets is all you could do in that moment to keep your sense of self occupied, your orgasm finally ripping through your body, arching your back as his name emits through the air that you’re sure the hotel’s inhabitants would hear from the first floor. “Jaehyun, I’m cumming! I’m fucking cumming!”

He doesn’t stop though, if anything, his hips move faster and rougher against yours, the only sound accentuating your screaming are his hips slapping against your cunt - even as you come down from your orgasm, your body numb as you settle, he continues to fuck into you, face contorted into pleasure. Your legs tremble with each time he brushes against your spot, hips bucking wildly each rut he pushes into you. “Fuck, you’re still so, so, fucking tight,” he grunts, voice deep and filled with need. “I missed you so fucking much. Are you on the pill, babyl?”

“No,” you moan into his ear when he pushes into you deep and rough. “I don’t care. I want your cum inside me, please. I want it so bad.”

He groans at your words, his hips beginning to roll faster, holding you in his arms and burying your face in your neck as he does. “F-Fuck,” the vibrations of his voice tickles the skin of your neck. “You want my cum, baby? You want me to fuck a baby into you? Hm? Is that what you want? Get you pregnant to prove to you who your cunt really belongs to?”

“Yes!” you practically beg, hungering for your second orgasm. At this point, you are unable to even comprehend what slips past your mouth, your voice a montage of lewd noises and gibberish as his hips snap against you. Your sight has darkened, all your senses have gone numb, all you are able to focus on is his cock driving further and further into you over and over again, and his voice that seemed miles away even while he whispers the most sinful things into your ear. 

“Mmm, fuck! I’m gonna c-cum, baby, fuck!” he groans loudly, reverberating off the marble walls as he leans back; his hips begin to stutter against yours, feeling him twitch inside you as he fills you up, moans of your name and other crude words slipping past his tongue. You let out breathy pants as he slowly pulls out of you, his cock coming out of your cunt as his cum follows soon after, the fluid warm against your abused skin - he takes his long fingers and swipes up some of the drip before plunging his fingers deep into your cunt again, causing another moan to rip through your throat.

“Oh my fucking god, Jaehyun,” you squeal, reaching down to grab his arm to keep his fingers from pounding into you again, but the overriding sensation has already taken over you nerves, your pleads of mercy turning into moans of pleasure. Your toes curl as the lewd sounds of his fingers pumping his cum back into you reaches your ears. 

“Take it,” he grunts, watching your red face, hot with gratifaction. “Take all my cum, baby. So, so pretty carrying my baby. You’ll be glowing, so fucking precious and beautiful. And everyone will know that I’m the one who got you like that, yeah? Right, baby?” 

“Y-Yes, Jaehyun,” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel your third orgasm of the night approaching, his fingers relentless against your cunt, making sure none of him leaks out. He brushes past your spot one last time, sensitive and numb, before you throw your head back into the cushions of your couch, final orgasm ripping through your nerves, unable to do anything else but moan quietly at both the plain and pleasure. “O-Oh my god.”

When your orgasm finally settles, he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, grinning from ear to ear as his eyes progress from the darkest you have ever seen them back to their normal, soft umber tone, leaning up to kiss you softly. You have tears in your eyes from what your body endured, and you’re far too sore to move your limbs, but you kiss back, relishing in the feeling that you have missed for so long - he picks you up from the couch, your legs hanging in the air as he holds you close as he successfully finds your bedroom. He lays you down on the plush mattress and reaches to the bedside table where a box of tissues laid, wiping your body down, his actions mellow and calm, as he utters sweet nothings to you. “You’re so, so beautiful. You’re so good to me. You’re my entire world.” 

When he finally finishes cleaning the both of you up, he wastes no time in getting into the other side of the bed, holding you close against him. Your breathing had finally calmed, your chest rising and falling in tranquil beats. You lay your cheek against his chest, relishing in the still environment that occupied the space around you. 

“Jaehyun,” you utter, after a few moments of silence. “You won’t leave, this time, right?”

“Never,” Jaehyun assures you, his hand running through your hair. “I have never left in the first place.” 

A soft smile makes its way onto your lips as you close your eyes, delighting in the thudding beat of his heart in his chest. His fingers continue to play with the strands of your hair, his breathing calming to your ears, lulling you as if it were a lullaby.

“Please talk to me,” you whisper, just a few seconds before sleep overtakes you. “Tell me about yourself. I want to hear your voice.”

He takes a few moments of pause, before you hear him breathe in. “My name is Jung Jaehyun,” he starts. “I am twenty-seven years old, I am the son of Jaejin and Shinae Jung, I have three brothers, my favourite colour is white, I love spring, I like to sing,” he pauses again, and you feel him press a tender kiss against the hair on the crown of your head.

“And I am in love with you.”

-----

The rising sun is warm against your face as you gaze at the gradient sky above you, hues of purples turning into deep oranges before coming together into a light blue. The clouds move laggardly against the beautiful sky; in the distance, you can hear the ocean waves crashing against the shores of the Amalfi coast, the scent of salt-water calming to your nerves as you take in a deep breath. The sky drenches you in an orange hue as you wrap your satin chiffon robe around you tighter, the slight breeze that blows against your form causing the foliage decorated on your balcony to dance in groups. You hear the sound of the door that separates your balcony landing from your hotel room, and a smile teases your lips when you feel strong arms wrap around you from behind.

“You’re up early,” his breath his warm against you ear as he holds you tightly, eyes gazing at the view alongside you. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Just enjoying the view.” you reply, resting your head against his as he slowly begins to sway you back and forth. Your hands snake around his arms wrapped around your waist, his fingers ghosting over the wedding ring wrapped around your finger. “Are the kids still asleep?”

“Yes,” he whispers, his arms secured around your form. He chuckles lightly against your ear. “The two of them were snoring before I walked out here. It was adorable, actually.”

“How cute,” you coo, smiling fondly. “Maybe we should take them to the beach today! It’s been a long time since I’ve swam in the ocean.”

“We should; for now though...” he answers, voice turning low. “The kids won’t be up until a few hours.”

“Oh shush, you pervert,” a giggle passes your lips as you lightly hit his arm, which only causes him to chucke once more before tightening his hold on you slightly. “Let’s just enjoy this beautiful view for now.”

“This view is nothing compared to you.” he teases you, amusement clear in his voice as you feel his smile against your ear. 

“Goodness, Jung Jaehyun,” you tsk. “You’ve gotten so corny.” 

To wake up every day to the sight of Jung Jaehyun’s face is something that you would have only thought of as a dream years ago; to feel his hands wrapped around you in safety as sunlight pours in every single morning is a sensation you would have never thought to have. Gone were the early mornings of his absence, acknowledgements and memoirs only left behind with a crude or romantic note, traded with the blessing that adorned both of your ring fingers. 

The wedding was held at a small, humble chapel, held only a month after the both of you had found each other again. Guests of those who are important to the both of you attended with their valour and blessings - Irene, at first, was shocked with what had turned out, but after conversing with your now-husband and realizing that all that she had heard was nothing but false words, only tears of happiness lined her eyes when she saw you walk down the aisle. Johnny and Ten were there as well, joy clear in their demeanours as they congratulated the both of you - you had also discovered that both Johnny and Jaehyun had mended their brotherly relationship, laughs and kind gestures traded between them at the following reception. You had wished for your mother to be there as well, perhaps to show her that you really were able to find love that isn’t fake, as she had believed, or perhaps to see her bear tears for your happiness. 

And although your wedding was rushed and deftly planned, a few quirks showing up throughout the ceremony and reception, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Especially the moment when you finally sealed your love with a kiss at the front of the altar, the sensation enough to drown the sounds of your guest’s cheering in front of you. 

And as the years passed, you only found yourself falling more and more for Jaehyun, the same excitement gracing your nerves every day you were to hold his gaze, to point a smile at him, and to press your lips against his. Even now, after becoming parents to two of the most beautiful children, another one on the way; even now, when the slightest of crow’s feet line the sides of your eyes, and the first inklings of gray hair are beginning to grow from his scalp; even now, when you’re so used to waking up to his calm face in the early mornings - you still find yourself falling ever the more in love with him.

Jaehyun chuckles slightly, the vibrations of his voice tickling the skin of your neck as he presses tender kisses against it, his hands slowly ghosting over the slight bump that began to protrude from your stomach’s form. 

“Only for you, Mrs. Jung.”

And as you stand there, relishing in the view of the beautiful golden sky whose ocean underneath casts a reflection that is enough to make your jaw drop as well as the warmth of the man whom you love and loves you just as dearly back, you feel an emotion that you haven’t felt in years; an emotion that you know will stay with you for a long time.

You are happy.

FIN.

[sanghyukstattoos]

Along the way

Characters: Kim Seokwoo I Rowoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst 

Words:1789

Summary: At a house party or a so-called dreaded 'family gathering', you detest the situation, how you feel and everything. That is until Seokwoo picks you up and is there for you all the way home.

A/N: Pictures from DailyRowoon 

Thank you to the anon who requested this! When I was writing this, I slipped into a little daze and I was at my best writing this so I do hope that you love it! Personally, when things get hard for me, I am that person who plans it all out in her head. I’ll speak myself through it including why I have been feeling or why I feel in a particular way and how to solve the problem so a little bit of that is incorporated into this fic!

You were at your family’s house, sitting on the sofa and holding your breath, waiting for the right time to jump into the conversation. They were feuding about something and while no one was screaming, you could feel how tense the room was. 

They make a big deal about everything, you thought but stayed quiet. Nothing good would come from you pointing out their obvious mistakes. It was right there and you felt a sudden surge of anger. You didn’t know where it came from either- there were so any sources.

You didn’t know how riled up you were getting but you did know not to get angry because apparently, that came to you pretty easily. Just because someone told you to control yourself didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. 

Your felt the dull ache in your temple become something more as your family snapped their heads in your direction when you spoke while nodding your head in the direction , ‘’It’s right there’’.

There was a small hum floating from your family members as they considered what you were saying but then it all went to shit. To them, it was something else but it mattered to you- wasn’t what you wanted also important?

The room grew more hot as they dismissed your statement, some feeling annoyed while others gave you small, pitiful smiles as they all went back to what they were doing. 

You stayed quiet and laid low for the next few minutes, contemplating how you spoke just a few moments ago. You wavered when you spoke, especially towards the end. 

Maybe it was obvious, that’s why they gave you those smiles. You looked around to see everyone smiling, automatically nodding and giving a bright smile to a family member who raised their eyebrows at you, presumably in concern.

They just picked whatever they wanted, dismissing the rest as, ‘’it’s okay, how important could it be?’’. Knowing that somewhere in the future you wouldn’t be here made you cautious but for now you were stuck in this place.

Forced to endure this because it was social of you to do so, you couldn’t possibly have a problem with your family- after all, they were your family. Your family member next to you, turned to you saying, ‘’Why do they sound like that when they fight?’’ making you look over and laugh as well.

You felt guilty for laughing for none of it showed on your face, laughing along with the person beside you. Not even a couple of seconds had passed till they spoke up, pointing in the direction mentioned while saying, ‘’See? It’s right there’’

From there on, recognition pandered onto their faces and you slumped, recognising that you should have just pointed it look like your family member. Some faces looked at you too and you nodded saying, ‘’I said that!’’

‘‘We know..’‘, ‘‘Something about the way you explained...’‘ was all that you heard before you heard the sound of your phone buzzing. Your head was spinning and there wasn’t much room to breathe but you couldn’t have been more happy that it was Ro on the other end. 

Standing up, you ignored the looks you got from your family members and headed to the exit to take the call. ‘’Hey, you doing okay?’’ was the very first thing you heard and you genuinely smiled, replying, ‘’Hey, I’m doing good’’.

‘‘What time do you want me to pick you up?’‘ Seokwoo asked, having just finished work. 

‘‘Uh’‘ you started out, searching the area for any of your family members to hide what you were going to say next. Your eyes didn’t leave the direction that you were looking towards as you hurriedly whispered, ‘‘A little earlier than planned’‘

Fearing that he would ask for the time, you calmed down when he asked, ‘’8:30?’’. Leaning away to check the time on your phone, you shook your head in disagreement as you responded with, ‘’no’’.

‘‘7:45?’‘ he asked, this time hitting the mark. You agreed, exclaiming, ‘‘yes!’‘ and he agreed as well. In the background, you could hear the car starting as he came to pick you up. 

There wasn’t exactly an end to family gatherings, they all just left when everyone agreed to leave. It also wasn’t easy to shove so many people out of the door and knowing that they had the opportunity, they would all stay till midnight. 

You felt victorious yet juvenile as you walked back to the living room to tell your parents the good news. Looking at your family member, you envied how she was able to thrive in such a harsh environment. 

Now, all that was remaining was for you to break it to them and that mattered. How you broke the news to them was important. Pulling your other family member close to you, the concern on her face almost broke you in two.

‘‘I have to go since we are both busy tomorrow’’ you said pouting, carefully watching how she reacted. She hummed before asking, ‘‘Is Seokwoo coming to pick you up?’‘ to which you slightly nodded to replying, ‘‘In 15 minutes’‘. 

You kept yourself from smiling out and after spilling it to your other family members, you would have wished to see the spoils of joy on their faces but instead got into Seokwoo’s car. 

This time your entrance was different and a whole lot better. It felt good to be back as you gave him a quick peck on his cheek. You reflected his wide smile, leaning your head on the headrest.

"How was it?" he asked, inquisitive but careful at the same time knowing that your family had a given history of making you feel like an outsider whenever they all came around. You hummed, dismissing the answer and instead looking at him and shrugging your shoulders, clearly exhausted.

"Don't stress about it a lot" he cautioned, hand on the steering wheel while one slipped into yours, wanting to be close to you in your time of pure distress. Gripping his hand tighter, you replied, "It's tiring, but I can make it" nodding as you said the latter, hoping to convince yourself that you could hold on.

It all sounded like fireworks to you but a part of you hoped that Seokwoo bought it because he was worried. You were an adult and if anything, they were people out there going through worse. It was a reminder that you didn't have to worry about something so small.

Whatever you thought to try and show that it wasn’t that big of a deal, there were always your own original thoughts at the back of your mind, trying to breach the surface. You had spoken to your family about how you felt, delivering in soft blows rather than directly and their response dismissed how you felt.

They had managed to convince you that the problem was now over, now that you had spoken to them but you felt as if no real change occurred. Truth to be told, you didn't have a proper explanation for this or anything like it but you did try your best.

Then again, what counted as a proper explanation?

"Hey" Seokwoo softly spoke, looking over at you in concern to see that you were looking out of the window with a look of despair on your face. It was at times like these that your real emotions would pour through, at times when you were stressed but tried to control how you truly felt.

You gave him a small smile and looked away, blinking the tears back. You felt hypervigilant now, also noticing how tightly you were gripping his hand. And then you felt grateful realising that he knew but gave you your space anyways.

You could show someone an example of what feeling like an outsider felt like in your family but individually, the single events did not count. On the other hand, a culmination or tyrannical combination of all these events made much more sense to your point.

They could point out how you were exaggerating the reality of the situation much like your family or at least how you thought they would react but Seokwoo and you knew the truth. Even before Seokwoo, you would live in your own mind, gradually moving away from the negativity.

Although the problem persisted, you once called into question your thoughts about yourself, the world and your future- the negative triad. It was simply a triad but you did know that you had negative thoughts regarding all three, making it your negative triad.

At present, you were content with yourself and the life you built that didn't involve a complete involvement of your family. Somehow, your problem with your family became your world and on a whole you were not angry at the world but you weren't angry at your family either. You couldn't change their actions and words towards you but you could change how you reacted towards them. As per the future, you didn't want to focus on that right now for your present work, relationship with Seokwoo and friends held so much more worth.

Taking a breath in, you released a shaky one, swallowing your tears and smiling. Hearing you, Seokwoo scrunched his nose in delight, happy that you were okay. You were also strong in every right for it made him plenty strong too. It was unfair to say that you shouldn't have felt terrible as others had bigger problems because you could acknowledge that fact but this was still your problem.

He didn't meet you like this and neither did you let this affect you in any way outside of your family home. Once it was over, you would be close to tears but it would hardly take you that same amount of time each time to pack your bags and move on.

Neither did he step in to defend you from your family because they were not your enemies. To them, they had the best intentions but drastically different ways of expressing it and Seokwoo supported you through it. You healed and went on to be your best self, knowing that you were surrounded by those that loved you because love came in different forms.

"I'm okay" you spoke, a lot more happier this time whilst looking at him. A smile slowly made its way to his face as he heard your words, rubbing circles onto your loosened grip on his hand. Resting on the headrest, you sighed in relief, all the stress and disbelief floating out of your system. Giving once last caring look at you, Seokwoo drove home where the two of you laid in each other’s arms, drifting off to blissful sleep. 

[whisperednarratives]

EVOLVE

/ɪˈvɒlv/

verb

1. develop gradually.

summary:

bakugo katsuki has hated l/n y/n since the moment she first took a punch for izuku midoriya.

the beginning of bakugo’s reign of resentment towards the girl was also the start of a wonderful friendship between izuku and herself.to say bakugo hated this arrangement was an understatement.

and things only got worse after that.after junior high school, both teenagers found themselves realising what they truly wanted.he had his goals and she had hers yet to get to where they wanted to be, they both had to attend the prestigious u.a. high school.

this is the story of how two future pro-heros found their feelings evolving over time until they realised that there really was a thin line between love and hate.

•

pairing:

bakugo katsuki x reader

genre:

enemies to lovers/slow burn/a bit angsty(?)

a/n:

i do not own or take credit for any part of bnha/mha’s manga/anime characters, plot etc.

all of it belongs to kohei horikoshi. i do not take credit for any art/photographs/visuals that will be used for any part of the story.

to be added to the TAG LIST of this story; please feel free to message me!

[NONE OF THE FOLLOWING CHAPTERS HAVE BEEN PROOFREAD OR EDITED]

[AGE: SIX YEARS OLD]

“If you don’t stop bothering him, I-I’ll fight you myself!”

Izuku Midoriya raised his tiny fists at his friend. He knew Kacchan could go a bit overboard sometimes, but it seemed like today he had finally snapped.

“You’re going to stop me?” Bakugo Katsuki threw his head back in laughter. “With what? You’re just a Quirkless little brat.”

Izuku rubbed his eyes, the tears becoming even harder to hold back. Kacchan’s fists were raised, no signs of his Quirk being activated yet, however, his ‘friends’ behind him had already activated their’s. It seemed as though they would do anything to impress their leader, even if it meant harming an innocent boy.

“K-Kacchan please! Why do you have to be so mean?” Izuku was crying now. Although he was trying to be brave, the tears flooded his face as his voice trembled.

The boy Izuku had been trying to protect stood behind him. He was too scared to say anything to the blonde boy who seemed to hate them for no reason.

Bakugo’s expression did not change, showing no signs of sympathy for his classmates. Instead, he took one step forward and pulled fist back back to attack.

Izuku raised his arms in front of his face, knowing what was coming. His eyes closed as he placed his arm over them, waiting for Kacchan’s fist to collide with his body but the strike never came.

Instead, he heard a groan of pain causing his head to lift from its position, his eyes now uncovered.

His line of vision was blocked by a bright blue. A girl stood before him, her hands clutching her reddening cheek. She was panting, as if she had just ran a marathon.

As Izuku moved his head to the side, he managed to catch a glimpse of Bakugo’s face. His eyes had widened and his mouth was open as he clutched his fist.

The girl looked at Izuku over her shoulder.

“You okay?” she said, flashing him a smile.

Izuku found himself nodding. He didn’t trust his mouth to speak yet.

It seemed as though the girl had taken a punch for him, even when he had no idea who she was. She was staring right at Bakugo with such defiance that it left Izuku shaking in his place. He knew firsthand how much pain Bakugo could cause even with his small fists yet here she was, still standing.

The boy Izuku had been protecting had already ran off.

It seemed as though everyone was in shock because it wasn’t until the girl spoke up that Bakugo realised what had happened.

She had been so fast to jump in front of Izuku that Bakugo hadn’t even been able to realise until his fist had collided with her cheek.

“Why don’t you walk away before this gets any worse?”

Izuku watched Bakugo’s mouth close instantly as his eyes glared daggers into the girl’s form.

“Who do you think you are?” his fists were clutched tightly against his sides as he took a step forward again.

The girl stayed unintimidated and instead, took a step towards him as well.

“Someone who thinks you’re a big bully,” she stared back at Bakugo with as much ferocity as she could.

“WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?”

Bakugo’s palms held the telltale signs of his Quirk being activated as he raised his hand again.

“Bakugo, stop! She’s that weird girl with the rock Quirk!” a boy yelled. “She made someone land up in the nurse’s office once!”

Bakugo’s eyes narrowed and he saw the girl flash him a smug smile. The ribbons in her hair had loosened as she crossed her arms over her chest. Her left cheek was now a bright red because of his punch and it didn’t seem like she was going to give up anytime soon. For some reason, he was reminded of himself as he continued to study her...

And he didn’t like it one bit.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m the strongest person in this class, I can—”

Bakugo’s words were interrupted as their teacher’s voice was heard from the distance.

“Bakugo Katsuki! Your parents are here to pick you.”

Letting out a scream of frustration, Bakugo lowered his hands. He was contemplating ignoring the teacher altogether, before he decided against it. His mother had a nasty temper and he wasn’t in the mood for a scolding today.

“This isn’t over yet,” he growled, before turning on his heels to face his friends. “Come on.”

As Bakugo retreated the scene, he looked over his shoulder in time to see Izuku grab the girl’s extended hand.

The amount of anger that surged through Bakugo’s body upon seeing the scene was something he’d never felt before.

How dare this unknown, annoying little girl stare at him so boldly?

How dare she protect dumb Deku who deserved every punch thrown his way?

Nobody had ever stood up to Bakugo before. Nobody.

So how can this girl have the audacity to face him with such unreserved opposition?

Suddenly, Bakugo remembered who she was.

Always sitting alone in their classroom, she often stared out the window. Her behaviour always got her reprimanded by their teacher but she was one of the first few kids (much like Bakugo) to manifest their Quirk.

He remembered her showing how she could float some stupid rock in the air for a few seconds before her face turned green.

She wasn’t strong at all. Just some nobody who could do a few party tricks.

Then why did that idiot say she landed someone in the nurse’s office?

Bakugo felt himself rolling his eyes as he got closer to their impatient teacher.

Tomorrow, he promised himself silently. Tomorrow, I’ll show her who she’s messing with.

-

“Hey! My name is L/N Y/N, what’s yours?”

Izuku stood silently, staring at the girl’s hand. He looked from her hand to her face repeatedly, before he decided to extend his own.

“M-Midoriya Izuku.”

He was sure the blush he had been repressing had risen to his cheeks, a clear sign of how flustered he was.

After letting go of his hand, Y/N spoke up again.

“You shouldn’t let him treat you that way, you know,” she said, placing her hands on her waist. “He’s just a bully who needs to be taught a lesson.”

The small girl huffed as she frowned at the bushy haired boy.

“Kacchan’s always been like this,” Izuku managed to whisper. “I don’t mind though, he’s my friend.”

The boy’s answer caused her eyes to widen in shock.

“Your friend?” she said. “Friends aren’t supposed to treat you that way!”

“He’s the only friend I have...” Izuku trailed, his eyes starting to water again.

She probably thinks I’m a los-

“No, now you have me.”

Izuku was sure he was about to faint.

Did she just-

“If he ever bothers you again, let me know okay?” her bright smile was back in its place as she grabbed Izuku’s hand.

First, this girl defends him. Then, she offers to be his friend and protect him against the strongest boy he knew.

Izuku was sure he was either hallucinating or asleep.

“W-why would you help me?” Izuku managed to stutter out.

“Because we’re friends now, silly!” Y/N giggled. “Friends always protect each other.”

-

[AGE: FOURTEEN YEARS OLD]

Izuku shook his head, recalling one of his fondest memories as L/N Y/N sat next to him. She was rambling as usual as their teacher tried to distribute their exam papers.

As much as Izuku loved remembering how he had found his best friend, he couldn’t help but feel guilty.

After the two had become inseparable, Kacchan’s anger towards the young boy had increased a tenfold. This caused Y/N to fall victim to Kacchan’s wrath as well.

And if Izuku didn’t know any better, he was almost certain Kacchan hated Y/N as much as he hated him.

However, the young girl never stopped defending him in any way she could. Her and Bakugo had fought more times than he could count, with Bakugo terrorising anyone who tried to befriend Izuku or the girl.

She was still never as cruel as Bakugo. She dealt with him with her words rather than her fists. Izuku had seen the extent of her Quirk and abilities and knew she was strong - dare he say, as strong as Kacchan - but she never used her skills to torment the blonde boy.

Bakugo was the exact opposite.

Y/N was made fun of constantly but the worst thing Bakugo had done was burn all of her textbooks the previous year. Izuku had watched in horror as the young boy burnt her backpack to crisp, Y/N’s eyes brimming with tears.

And that was when she had snapped.

Izuku had never seen her that angry before yet he still remembered the words she had said that day.

“I hate you, Bakugo Katsuki. I am done trying to be the better person. From now on, if I see you so much as breathe near me, I will not hesitate to let the ground swallow you whole. You’re nothing but a dick,” she had said. “Stay the fuck away from me or you’ll regret it.”

Even since that incident, they hadn’t spoken to each other nor clashed heads. Their rivalry had reached the point of unresolved hatred and Izuku knew that Y/N hadn’t lied back then. Kacchan hadn’t exactly stopped bothering Izuku but he always kept his distance whenever she was with him.

Which meant he had noticed the blatant honesty in her voice as well.

Izuku had asked Y/N if she could actually control her Quirk enough to make the ground swallow people and she had just laughed. Although she was back to normal, he doubted she would really go through with the threat. However, Izuku knew it wasn’t a risk Kacchan was willing to take.

As they sat in class, waiting for the last day of junior high school to end, Izuku was thankful that he had managed to make a friend he knew he could trust with his life.

Beside him, the girl suddenly stopped talking as the teacher approached his podium.

“I would pass out these forms considering it’s your third year at this school,” the teacher paused. “But you’re all going to opt for the Hero Course anyway so what’s the point?”

The class started cheering, excited to finally be able to train for something they’ve always to do.

Y/N and Izuku had always talked about joining the Hero Course together. One of the reasons Izuku had even considered applying to the same school as her was because of how much the girl had pushed him.

“Quirkless or not, you’re still going to be an amazing hero one day Izuku!“ she had said.

After a moment of silence, Izuku spoke up.

“Why? Why do you think I can be a hero without a Quirk?”

The girl raised her gaze to meet his before replying.

“Because you are one of the most bravest people I know. We met because you tried to take on Bakugo without a Quirk and I’ve always admired that about you. Your ability to have the pure guts to take an enemy head on!”

Y/N never failed to make Izuku feel like he was the strongest person in the world, Quirkless or not.

Even now, as their teacher continued, she leaned towards him from her desk.

“We’ll train together later, okay?” she whispered.

Training mostly consisted of Y/N trying to gain better control and precision over her Quirk as Izuku took notes but he didn’t mind.

He wanted to help his best friend get stronger in any way he could.

Nodding slightly, Izuku’s train of thought was interrupted by Kacchan speaking up.

When Bakugo spoke, the entire class knew it was time to shut up. Someone didn’t stop when he was talking once and they ended up getting blown across the school during lunch break.

“No need to put all of us in the same category,” he said, his feet up on his desk. “I don’t plan on aiming low like these extras.”

She kept her head down as she scoffed at his words.

What an arrogant idiot.

“Ah yes, Bakugo. You plan on going to U.A High School right?”

This caused her head to snap back up, eyes wide as she glared at the back of Bakugo’s head.

He’s planning on going there too?

As her classmates around her discussed how difficult her dream school was to get into, Bakugo continued to boast about his achievements.

She felt an uneasy pit settle in her stomach.

As much as she wanted to get into U.A, she couldn’t bear the thought of having to spend the next three years with Bakugo.

And if he found out I was applying along with Izuku, he’d never let-

“L/N and Midoriya, you plan on applying to U.A as well right?”

Y/N buried her head in her hands as the teacher called her out. She knew Izuku was probably stiff as a board besides her as the entire class shifted their eyes towards the two teenagers.

It wasn’t long before the entire class bursted out laughing.

Even though they weren’t laughing at her, Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in anger.

She knew how hard it had been to convince Izuku to apply to U.A with her but she couldn’t bear the thought of her classmates making fun of her friend.

“You can’t just apply thinking you’ll get in without a Quirk!”

“Like they’d ever take a Quirkless kid like him!”

Before Izuku could respond, Y/N had stood up in her seat.

“Why don’t all of you shut up and mind your own business,” she snapped back at the kids who had made the previous comments.

Everyone else immediately shut up, knowing how protective the girl was of her friend.

“Well Y/N, you do have the best scores in class besides Bakugo. I’m sure you’ll be able to qualify, considering how strong your Quirk is!” the teacher said, trying to diffuse the situation. “As for Midoriya, it doesn’t hurt to try.”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N sat back down.

Izuku gave her a small smile, silently thanking her.

With a subtle thumbs up his way, she went back to waiting for this class to end so she could head home already.

Little did she know, Bakugo had heard the teacher’s comment about her Quirk and his fists had clenched in anger.

He couldn’t believe he might have to deal with her for the next few years of his life. The thought made him angrier by the minute and he knew the only way he could end his frustration was through one thing.

Deku.

-

Walking back into the classroom to see Bakugo towering over her friend was not something Y/N was happy about. His friends continued to laugh as he snatched something from Izuku’s hands.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

All four teenage boys turned around to face her.

Bakugo’s scowl was instantly replaced with a smug grin.

This was going to be good, he thought. She hadn’t spoken to him for the past year and he had been waiting for her to finally burst. He hadn’t taken her threat lightly but he knew Y/N didn’t have the heart to actually harm anyone.

It was why he found her even more infuriating.

“Oh look, it’s Deku’s little bodyguard,” Bakugo said.

Even though it had been quite long since she’d interacted with him, Y/N was able to calm herself down before taking any action against the blonde boy.

Y/N sighed before walking towards the group. She realised he had taken Izuku’s notebook, one in which he kept all of his tips and tricks to do with all the heroes he had ever heard of. She knew how important it was to him, considering it was the closest thing he had to make him feel like a hero.

“Hand his book over and walk away before I choose to get violent.”

Bakugo seemed to have realised the importance of the notebook as well as his grip tightened around the tattered object.

“No, I think I’m good. Why don’t you try and take it from me?” Bakugo extended his arm towards the girl, his grip still intact on the book.

A year later and he’s still an insolent fool.

The girl’s calmness was slowly starting to fade away and Izuku knew she wouldn’t hesitate this time around.

Shaking his head, he tried to tell her to stop but she didn’t listen.

“I swear I am about to shove a brick up your ass. Give him the notebook back!” Her hand reached out to grab the book but Bakugo was too fast.

He turned on his heels just in time to avoid her, taking a several steps towards the window as she continued to try and grab Izuku’s book.

Bringing both his hands to encase the journal, Y/N immediately realised what he was about to do.

“Bakugo don’t you dare-”

It was too late.

The boy had already burnt the book, flipping it over his shoulder and out the window.

Izuku let out a choked sob as he watched Bakugo burn his dreams to the ground.

Literally.

Y/N’s mouth remained open in shock.

“What happened? Didn’t you say something about the ground swallowing me whole last time?” Bakugo laughed as the girl stood as still as a statue before him.

She hadn’t realised her hands had started shaking out of anger until a brick flew inside through the window.

Bakugo, whose back was facing the window sill, didn’t realise until the brick landed a harsh blow on his head.

“OW! WHAT THE FUCK?”

Scowling, he grabbed the back of his head in pain.

But Y/N wasn’t done.

“What is wrong with you? How can you be so cruel?”

Her hands still hadn’t stopped shaking.

“What did you just say?” Bakugo screamed, taking a step towards her.

“How can you be such a jerk? That notebook was so important to him and you just destroyed it without a second thought,” Y/N’s eyes were now burning with such resentment for him that Bakugo almost stopped in his tracks.

“What is your goddamn problem? WHY DO YOU HATE US SO MUCH?”

This was the first time any of the boys had heard her yell.

Her question rang throughout the empty classroom and Bakugo couldn’t help but bite back with as much severity as he could.

“Because neither of you extras deserves to go to a place like U.A. U.A is a school for people like me. I want to be the number one hero one day and I don’t want anyone, including you two idiots, stopping me.” Bakugo stopped before turning to face Izuku. “If you want to be a hero that badly, why not try swan diving off the roof to get a Quirk in another life?”

Y/N swore she saw red as she jumped towards Bakugo without a second thought.

She managed to land a punch to his face before Izuku had grabbed her arm and pulled her away.

“YOU BITCH!” Bakugo screamed, launching himself at the girl.

“Bakugo, stop! You can’t get into a fight again!”

His friends grabbed both his arms, dragging him towards the classroom’s door.

“JUST WAIT AND WATCH, YOU FUCKING DICK,” Y/N screamed as Izuku struggled to hold her back. “I WILL GET INTO U.A AND BEAT YOUR ASS. THAT’S A PROMISE.”

As Bakugo’s friends practically threw him out of the classroom, Y/N heard his voice call out her name.

“I’d like to see you try.”

TAG LIST: @sizzlingbarbarianglitter

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 12: Final Home Exercise Program

Characters: Captain Syverson x OFC (Shane Dawson)

Summary: Our lovers spend one last night together and the next morning have a serious discussion about their future after more new information comes to light about Sy’s upcoming training. Can the new relationship sustain the stress? Are Shane’s feelings justified, or can they overcome what lies before them?

Spoilers suck! Start from the top or wherever you left off HERE!

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings:  Language, mature themes, smut, angst…well, near angst. As angsty as I get.

Author’s Note: Sorry this has taken so long, my darling dears! I’m currently on vacation and although I was hoping to be inspired by new surroundings, it’s given me WICKED writer’s block! I have a pretty solid plan for more chapters, though, so, buckle up!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

Tags: 

@onlyhenrys

@cavillryarchive

@summersong69

@titty-teetee

@bloodyinspiredfuck

@agniavateira

@oddsnendsfanfics

@omgkatinka

@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland (apparently deactivated, idk what’s up with that)

@speakerforthedead0

@tumblnewby

@suavechops

@radkesgirl83

@wheretheriversrunintothesea

@heartfelt-pen

@auds24

Hope I’m not forgetting anyone! If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Sy's last two PT appointments could not have gone better. On paper, anyway. He was at full strength in his injured knee, his range of motion was better than it was in the so-called good knee, and he hadn't complained of pain above a 2/10 in the last five sessions. He'd even been using the treadmill properly the last two weeks, working up to his own goal of running again. Her goals for him were met…they could have probably stopped a session short, but she'd wanted to give him a few more handouts to finalize his HEP…and well, she'd be in major trouble for saying so, but…she couldn't stand the thought of cancelling that last visit. It felt like quitting, even though it would have been justified.

In practice, however, there was a tension between them that had never existed before. Something creating awkward energy that they couldn't seem to shake. They hadn't seen each other much outside of therapy this week, either. Not since the night of their argument. Sy had to do a lot of prep for his trip to Virginia, and Shane's caseload this week had been ridiculous. Dozens of evaluations and updates and calls to various companies on different kinds of splints and orthotics she was hoping to get for a few of her patients. A lot of time spent on the phone meant a lot of after-hours documentation. She needed a break. Even if it meant she'd have to do some work over the weekend. Sy was leaving tomorrow to get settled in Charlottesville before the big training course began. She didn't want them to be apart on his last night home for a month.

"Hey, as a celebration of your discharge from PT and your new career trajectory, how about dinner on me tonight?"

"But…you don't really want me to leave town…or to be done with therapy. Not that I, myself, won't miss you feeling me up in public." he smirked as she took his last set of range of motion measurements, her hands gently holding one arm of her goniometer to the side of his thigh…suddenly too aware of him.

"Not entirely true. I'm glad you're better, I'll just miss seeing you through the day. It breaks up the…" she sighed "the monotony of my daily life. Also, why would I want you to leave town? What would that say about me as your girlfriend?" she explained.

"S'pose you're right."

"In this case, yes. Yes I am." She winked at him.

They finished up and she gave him a few more exercises to keep in his arsenal to maintain strength and range in both knees.

"Okay, now, I won't be around to harass you about these, but keep doing them regularly, and just modify them as I've notated if they get too easy. Try to just do more reps, though. I wouldn't try to bulk it up just yet, and that's what you'll do with more weight added."

"Yes, ma'am." he said for old time's sake. She shook her head and smirked.

"And listen, please. This is your physical therapist talking right now. Be careful and mindful during … your cross country training." she wanted to call it "Survivor-Virginia," but refrained. She knew it would get his hackles up. And she was taking enough of a chance insisting that he be careful. "Nature has perils for the perfectly fit. The already injured are at a disadvantage from the gate. Mind your footing. And try not to run unless you have to. Uneven surfaces are not your friend just yet. You still need to work up to that. If you want, I'll help you with it when you get back. Just…don't undo all this work we've done together."

He seemed to see his woman peeking out from behind the mask of his therapist. Concern coloring the neutral and clinical advice she was giving him.

"I'll do my best, sunshine." he held her by the arms and kissed her forehead. It felt too intimate for the setting, but they had done worse. "I'll see ya tonight then?"

"Yeah, I'll bring some food by your place after work. What do you want?"

"Hmmm…I'll let you know." he kissed her cheek and left.

The next hour was her lunch, so she had time to contemplate what seeing him walk out for the last time had made her feel. She sighed, and started to well up, getting out her lunch bag to begin eating and documenting when a knock came at the door frame.

It was Sy, looking forlorn and manic and altogether a mess. Very unlike himself.

"I got out to the truck and something just felt wrong about the way I left today. As if it was any other day. Not our last session. You were trying to get that to land…I'm a little slow. But I finally got it." he walked to her, grabbing her up from her chair in a hug that mended all of the broken parts of her. Squeezed her back together when she'd been damn near falling apart. "Shane, you…you did more than just make me better. You've…made me better. Happier. Whole. I'll never be able to thank you properly for all of this, but…I intend to try for as long as you'll let me."

He held her while her tears fell softly onto his Def Leppard shirt. This was what she needed. For him to simply hold her, complete her, love her.

"Also, I think I'd like Chinese food tonight." she laughed into his neck.

"You idiot."

"You still like me."

"I do. And you don't need to worry about thanking me, Sy. You return the favor daily by just…being you…and being mine." She pulled him in to a ferociously sexy kiss, her hands in his hair, still too short for her liking, but getting there.

He broke away, neither wanting it to end, but both knowing it must, all the same.

"I thought we couldn't do this at your work?" he inquired, slightly out of breath.

"We couldn't do this while you were a patient. You're officially discharged. Last appointment over. All I have to do is sign your note and it's a done deal. But now…if you wanted to drop by for lunch sometime when you get back from training for your fancy job…we could…make it a regular occurrence." she smiled up into his entrancing blue eyes, sparkling with promise.

"I like the sound of that, sunshine." he gave her one more chaste kiss before his official goodbye. "See ya tonight."

As she watched him leave, she remembered thinking to herself one day how he probably used to take very confident strides…that hardly did his walk justice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She ordered their favorites, four entrees total, so they had options, crab rangoon, egg rolls, dumplings, the works. She would be happy to eat off the leftovers all weekend. She wasn't fussy. She loved leftover Chinese takeout.

He met her at the door, having advance warning of her arrival from the canine burglar alarm, Aika.

"You got her. Good girl." he said sweetly thanking the pup for sounding off the Twilight Bark throughout the neighborhood.

"Hello!" She handed off the food to Sy and scratched at the German Shepherd's ears the way she liked, her tail wagging with joyous speed.  

"I thought we could set up a buffet on the coffee table downstairs while we watch TV?"

"Sounds great!" She said, with an enthusiasm that sounded almost forced. She wasn't able to fully shake this foreboding she felt saying goodbye to him, no matter how long they'd be apart.

Sy grabbed plates and silverware while Shane got them some beverages, and they headed downstairs, Aika knowing her boundaries did not extend to the basement except by invitation, whined at their descent. Sy wasn't having it.

"Oh, don't give us that sob story, ya brat." he rolled his eyes at Shane.

"Aww, can't she come down with us?"

"No way. I want you all to myself." a devilish smirk twitched up the corners of his mouth making him even more handsome.

"Aika has nothin' on you. You're the real dog." she teased.

"I make no excuses or arguments. I'm gonna be selfish with you tonight." they put the food and supplies on the coffee table and he caught her up into his arms. He seemed to want to inhale her into his lungs.

"Mmmm, as endearing as I've always found generosity, I really like the sound of that." She let out a huff of amusement.

They spent an uncharacteristically short amount of time choosing something to watch. They'd already started a miniseries together, and they wanted to finish it before Sy left. It was a British political thriller with a lot of intrigue and quite a bit of sex. They only had two hours left, so they finished it quickly as they ate.

They decided to put on something familiar afterward. Die Hard. Which they both quoted with ridiculous precision. They were cuddled into each other on the big sectional, lulled into comfort by the familiar security of the dialogue and the warmth of the other.

Soon, Sy's hand found its way to Shane's thigh. It inched its way inside and up. She felt like he could hear her heart rate quicken, just as she knew he could hear her breaths come with more effort due to his touch.

She looked at him, and despite her apprehension about his decision to leave her so early in their relationship, she wanted him. She'd known for so long now. It felt like forever, for longer than they'd even known one another. A ridiculous notion. But with that same gaze, she begged him to continue. The signal was not lost on the captain. His mouth punished hers in a kiss so deliciously violent and needy she thought there was no way he couldn't feel the same for her. She pushed to the back of her busy mind all of the negative emotions the kiss brought up, the confusion as to how and why he was going to leave her when he clearly needed her just as badly as she needed him, and just let this beautiful moment become what it would.

As hard as that was to do.

The way he touched her was a pretty effective distraction. One hand held her firmly against his mouth by the nape while the other built friction in her over her jeans. She felt her body's primal responses of the building pressure and her hands gripping at his shirt. His guttural moan at her answering touch only fueled the inferno in her. She needed more of him. She thrust up into his hand wantonly. He took himself away from her, cruelly, but to be so very kind, she would soon see. He undid her jeans and tugged them down, along with her panties. In the process, he repositioned her conveniently at the edge of the sofa. He scooted the coffee table out of the way enough to kneel before her. He tortured her with kisses from her knee up her inner thigh on both sides before continuing those kisses where she really needed them.

His warm breath hit her first and she arched, aching in anticipation for the corporeal. He looked up at her with his dervish's grin, seeing the desire on her face and feeling it course through her body, and although he was a better man than her previous lovers, and a better man than most, no man was so good that making his woman feel like this didn't make him feel like a god.

"Darlin', you're so gorgeous like this." he said as he teased her with his mouth. Her words failed. She had only unintelligible syllables for him. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed thoroughly amused by her speechlessness. Amused and encouraged. She'd never felt like this before. His lips and tongue worked over her trembling flesh, both as familiar paths and brand new territory. Discovering the new and remembering the familiar, all at once.

"Sy." she whispered, so close to her peak, and needing him to continue, but unable to do more than moan his name.

"I know, sugar. I know it won't be long. Whenever you're ready, sweetheart."

And she fell apart under his expert touch. He soothed her body down from the climax and asked her if she was ready for bed.

"I think not!" she replied. "The movie isn't over." and she pulled him up to her by the cheeks into another crushing kiss and guided him to the couch. She kicked her bottoms off her ankles to avoid tripping and repositioned herself between his legs as he'd done with her.

"You don't have to, sunshine." he caressed her jaw.

"I know, babe. I want to. Let me do this for you." He was always eager to taste her but she'd yet to return the favor at his own request. She was done letting him decline. She didn't want him leaving without giving him this small parting gift.

It wasn't as if she was unfamiliar with how big he was. She'd touched him, and had him inside her…but seeing him this close was different. She fully appreciated what a feat it was to take him.

She started in with her own tricks, which made him moan, just as planned. His hands laced gently and lovingly in her hair as she worked her mouth and hands over him. She looked up at him after a few moments to gauge his reaction and couldn't have been more pleased. His expression was one of pure, tortured bliss. She felt so powerful.

"Angel, I'm not gonna last much longer." she took that as her cue to get on top of him.

She joined their bodies with a groan of ecstasy that he echoed. She gripped his shoulders as she moved against him, slow and measured at first, but becoming more frantic and erratic as she chased her climax. One hand remaining on her hip, the other came to her chin and directed her gaze to him. Her eyes, blazing with desire, met his, full of tears. She fell against his lips, as she climbed higher, needing that final push to send her over. Which it did, tumbling into that familiar bliss, that she'd have to savor for…well, too long. She didn't want to think too hard about that. This would be their last night together for several weeks. And she wanted to make the most of it. She looked at him, nodded, and after a few more thrusts, he came to his own pinnacle with a shudder beneath her, clutching at her back, resting his head on her sternum. She held him there, and took a few cleansing breaths with her own cheek pressed against his lengthening hair. She stroked the ones at the back of his neck for a moment as they came down from their impossible high.

"Shall we continue this upstairs?" she asked as the cheery, festive, and entirely out-of-season notes of "Let It Snow" played on the TV with the rolling credits of Die Hard. He grinned.

"Yeah, if I still have bones in my legs." he kissed her neck, just above the collar of her tee. "And I'll come down later and clear all this up. We'll just have to close the door so Aika doesn't come down and have herself a party. She's a good dog, but I'm not about to tempt her."

Shane carefully slid off of Sy's lap, attempting not to make too much of a mess, grabbed her panties and slipped them on for the walk to Sy's room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The musical chiming of Sy's phone alarm came too damned early. They'd barely slept, not wanting to waste a moment together. When they finally nodded off after their last round of fervent love-making, they wrapped themselves around one another and were both out like lights in no time. Now he was untangling himself from her to turn the noise off and presumably begin the process of getting ready to leave for the airport. He only snoozed it, though, and pulled her more tightly against his bare, hairy chest.

"What time is it?" She asked, bleary from lack of sleep and extreme fatigue. Not that she was complaining.

"Seven. But my flight doesn't leave until 10, and it's just from the base. There's a flight leaving there for  Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport and I'm hitchin' a ride with them."

"Oh good. I had anticipated we'd have to drive to Springfield, or even St. Louis this morning." She would do it for Sy, of course, but she wasn't looking forward to a six hour minimum round trip, half of which she would have to make alone.

"Nah, and I'm hoping to work something out for the return trip, too, but I'll let you know about that, then. I've made those open ended, though, because I don't know about the return date."

"Sure. God, that's so…crazy. Not in a bad way, just, I can't imagine leaving home without a clear plan on when I'd be back. Of course, knowing it won't be more than a month helps, I guess."

"Yeah."

"And really, a part of me has dreamed of living a sort of nomadic existence since I was very young, so I definitely see the romance in it."

"Totally agree. Hey, I'm hungry. How about we get ready and I'll buy ya breakfast?" He seemed evasive, but she was hungry, too, so she let it go.

"Sounds great!"

They got up and showered together, keeping the sexy time to a minimum given the current time constraints they'd now placed upon themselves. If they didn't hurry, they'd never get out of Cracker Barrell in time to get him to the base.

He loaded his bag in her cargo space and they headed off to the restaurant, which was hopping with traffic on a Saturday morning, as was expected. But since there were only two of them, they got a table without waiting.

They ordered coffees, and Cokes, not super healthy, but hey, this wasn't a daily occurrence. It was a splurge.

Sy ordered some massive and meaty breakfast spread that sounded like a heart attack waiting to happen, while Shane kept it simple with biscuits and gravy and a side of fruit…also, she stole a strip of Sy's bacon. Again…she was a weak woman.

The conversation was light and friendly and lovey…until the time came to leave. Sy picked up the check and took it to the counter to pay and then led her out the double doors back to her vehicle.

"You'll be able to FaceTime me on evenings you haven't gone walkabout in the wilderness, right?"

"I'm not sure they call it that outside of Australia, or even the Crocodile Dundee movies, but yeah, we'll plan on that, for sure."

"Good. I'll miss you so much. But at least I have a pretty good idea of when you'll be back." she was spouting excitedly, but he was being rather cagey again. He piped up with three words that never start off a good sentence.

"Yeah, about that…" she looked at him as they closed the doors to her Explorer, waiting for him to continue…hoping for good news, but expecting bad.

"I got an email last night…late…that I…that the training…might take longer than they told me at first." he winced for the impact of her reception of the anticipated bad news.

"Longer…uh-huh. How much longer?" she asked, backing out of her parking space.

"Ya know if you back into these spaces you don't have to worry about--"

"Really? This is the moment you want to man-splain the concepts of parking to me, Sy? I'll save you the trouble. My dad couldn't get me to do it, and I don't see you having any success, either. Now, how much longer?"

"I don't…they didn't give a concrete--"

"Give me your best guess based on what you know. Give me a range. A ballpark, if you will."

"Uhh…two or three more…weeks…than planned." he winced as she drove toward Fort Leonard Wood Army Base from the peaceful breakfast joint. It was rather poetic, really, since the conversation had turned from relaxed to militant. And they were driving from civilian territory into a land of combatants. Not a war zone, but a zone of warriors, perhaps. And she was ready for battle, herself.

"Sy. That's more than six weeks."

"I know." he said, his eyes downcast in some combination of shame, fear, and sadness.

"And you're…fine with it?" she prodded, prompting him to consider her.

"Of course I don't like it. I'm gonna hate being away from my sunshine for even a week. But this is…it's about who I am. Who I'm meant to be from now on. I have to find my way from here, Shane."

"I guess my only question is…where do I fit into this…path. This life you're making for yourself? We're brand new. But we've worked really hard already to get where we are. And I've worked really hard to get to where I am, professionally. In my dream job. No, the circumstances aren't ideal, but the work makes me think, and gives me purpose. What am I suppose to do? Either I give that up, or I give up…the only man I've ever been with who's made me actually happy."

"I don't want that. I don't want to lose you, and I don't want you to give anything up for me, darlin.' That'll just lead to you resentin' me down the road, and I don't want that, neither." He stopped a moment and just looked at her, face holding back frustrated and angry tears…but also very sad ones. "What about this? Let's just, talk about all this moving forward stuff when I'm back from training. At that point, I'll know more about what to expect about jobs and assignments. And…if it would make you feel more comfortable…we can call ourselves…unexclusive. That way, if you meet someone while I'm gone--"

"Have you lost your mind?" She interrupted his ridiculous attempt to be selfless. She was secure enough in his feelings for her that he wasn't making the suggestion for himself.

"I'm serious. If you meet someone, and he sweeps you off your feet, don't resist. I want you to be happy, Shane."

"Then come back and teach gym at the local high school. Better yet, don't go, at all."

"You remember all that stuff you said about having your dream job and a purpose?" Shane nodded. "You want me to find all that too, don'tcha?"

"No. I'm a selfish bitch who wants you here with me no matter the cost. And I don't care if you resent me in the long run. At least I'll have you." she laughed at her sarcasm and only slightly true self-deprecation.

"You'll be fine. You managed so far without me." he reminded her as she pulled up to the gate, guarded by about four men, who's rank she couldn't tell, but one of whom Sy called a sergeant.

"I'll get out here and they'll take me to the hangar in a cart. No civilian vehicles allowed today. Apparently they're doing maneuvers." he shrugged and got out to grab his bag.

"I put the rest of the takeout in here too. It's in one of my nice coolers on ice."

"Thanks." she told her shoes as they stood under the shade of her rear access hatch. She couldn't look at him right now. He made her, though.

"This ain't quite like the airport, but I still don't have a lot of time, sunshine." he kissed her hard, and it really felt like a goodbye, which almost hurt more than his leaving. Almost. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, and she knew she'd feel that embrace all evening. She hoped it would last for weeks.

"I love you, Sy." she sobbed to him. Trying like hell to keep it together.

"I love you, darlin.' Now don't you forget that when some other handsome fella gives you the eye. Make sure he's worth it, if you're gonna write me a dear john letter." he winked at her. She laughed and nodded, but didn't feel it was that funny, and didn't intend to adhere to his parameters of their relationship. He ducked under the arm that was preventing her from driving through. Although, legs as long as his, he almost could have stepped over it. She watched him walk away for as long as she could before she was given the signal that she must leave and let other traffic through…although, she resented this. There were two lanes, after all. Couldn't these men see what a mess she was? She'd just had to say goodbye to the love of her life…and she didn't know when…or indeed, if…she'd see him again. She had hope…but that didn't stop her from crying all the way home and the rest of the afternoon as the ghost of Sy's parting hug faded from her skin.

Up Next: Chapter 13: SNAFU

[jishyucks]

Amortentia II ‣ Lee Donghyuck

‣ genre: fluff, light angst, hogwarts au

‣ wc: 15.4k

‣ summary: Donghyuck used the love potion for the fun of it. That warm feeling that he was starting to feel in his chest when he sees you isn’t fun. 

Second part to this

a/n: I wrote the first part about a year and bit ago so please don’t be discouraged into reading this after reading part one. I believe I improved a lot! This took about a month to write in but I had a lot of fun writing it! Hope the borders help in case you can’t read it all at once

Thirteen Days Remaining.

As always, the wise words of Huang Renjun had drifted through Donghyuck’s head and he had completely forgotten about what he’d warn him about. It wasn’t like he wanted to forget… he just didn’t see it as important and his brain believed that if it was nothing important, then it was worth throwing it out instead of keeping it to waste space inside his head.

“I need this book about muggles… Y/N will you get it for me, please?” He glanced down at you who had an arm wrapped around his while you both studied. A bright smile appeared on your face when you looked up at him, nodding almost too enthusiastically. You unhooked your arm from his and stood up, disappearing into one of the many aisles of the library.

“Donghyuck,” Renjun tsked from the end of the table, head resting on his arm. The energy he gave off  reeked of disappointment. Like a mother with high expectations for her child. He had a sharp scold on his face. If looks could kill, then Donghyuck should probably be six feet underground.

Donghyuck glared back at his friend and tapped the end of his pen onto his paper, “Yes, Renjun?”

“Didn’t I tell you not to take advantage of her?” Renjun lifted his head from his arm and raised a brow at the Slytherin, “And you said you wouldn’t… Explain what you’re doing right now.”

“I’m simply asking her to do me a favour. Anything wrong with that?” Donghyuck avoided the piercing gaze that Renjun continued to shoot his way and carried on reading his notes.

“A normal wizard wouldn’t ask someone to fetch a book for themselves for the tenth time in the same hour,” Renjun started to pack his books up, “You’re treating her like some slave. I can’t even bear to watch this.”

Donghyuck only then realized that Renjun was leaving and he couldn’t say anything in defense as he was already out by the door when he looked up, “Bye, I guess.”

“Here, Hae,” you sang softly, sliding the book that Donghyuck needed for his essay. Before he could even question the nickname, he thanked you, sliding the book directly to him to search for a desired topic. Like earlier, you sat back in the same position you were sitting in earlier and continued to do your own work.

He looked down at you again and briefly watched how your eyes would follow the words and how your lips would mouth them slightly. When you noticed him looking, your focused expression had twisted into the same potion crazed smile, causing him to look away. For a quick second, Donghyuck saw you as how he knew you. The you that was intoxicated with the potion. It was like the spell caused your emotions to go haywire when your eyes were set on him.

Eleven Days Remaining.

Before Donghyuck was even able to reach the door of the potions room, Professor Sylva called him over with two waves of her hand. The look on her face indicated that there was nothing good about whatever he was about to be told and Donghyuck couldn’t help but swallow the spit in his mouth.

“This is private, Miss Y/L/N,” she said gently, “You can wait for Mr. Lee outside.”

Donghyuck turned to see you standing a few steps away from him, arms wrapped your books gently. He noticed the pupils of your eyes grow seemingly bigger, which allowed him to sense that the spell was acting up again. Lifting his hand to wave you off kindly, you nodded your head and followed his orders, leaving him and Professor Sylva alone.

“I want to speak to you about grades,” she stated sternly. The skin of her face were hanging low from age and she didn’t have the energy to give Donghyuck eye contact. She simply skimmed through the marks listed messily in her grade book, “As far as I know you’re part of the quidditch team?”

“Yes, ma’am, I am,” he nodded.

“And from the grades I have down from your exams, you are merely passing this class,” she told him.

Gulp. Donghyuck looked towards the door, hoping you would come in to save him from this conversation. It was too bad the potion didn’t come with such powers.

“Silence… alright… by school rules, you are not able to attend the quidditch tournament if your marks are below seventy-five percent,” she explained, “Do you understand Mr. Lee?”

“S-Seventy-five? But Professor, there is no way I’m able to raise my grades in so little time,” he tried to reason, “The tournament is one of the biggest events for the team. I can’t miss that.”

“I understand that Mr. Lee, but academics are far more important than sports… There is a unit exam this coming week and if you do well on that test I will allow you to go to that tournament, nonetheless your average,” she explained.

“Okay,” he nodded in determination, “Okay, ma’am, I’ll do my best in that, I assure you.”

“Very well, Mr. Lee, you are dismissed.”

Donghyuck bowed and hurried out the door, reaching a new level of determination. This tournament was important to him and if he missed it, he really didn’t know what to do. His absence would also make him look like a fool. Missing a quidditch tournament just because of poor grades? How dumb would he look in front his whole team and the entire school?

“Are you alright Hyuck?” Donghyuck caught himself just hovering outside of the classroom door, stuck in thought. He hadn’t noticed that you were holding him by his wrist, eyes pouring into his full of worry.

He nodded quickly, “I’m okay. I’m going to the library.” If his attendance to the tourney really depended on this upcoming test then he really should start studying.

“I’ll come with?” You slowly used your arm to hook it with his, eyes still not leaving his though he didn’t return the look. Instead, he was staring at the air in front of him, deep in thought.

“Sure,” he answered weakly, “Okay.”

For the next few hours, reaching dusk, Donghyuck skimmed through all the information on the topic that he had found in his textbooks. He could feel his eyes desperately begging for a rest, yet he wouldn’t let them. You had tried to explain the topics a few times, which somewhat helped, yet he believed he learned better on his own. Periodically, he’d tell you to find another useful book on the history of magic and to bring it to him as it’d help him out. With the potion driving all your decisions connected to Donghyuck, you willingly did. You stood up with a tired smile and carried yourself to the history section of the library.

Mark, who had his own test coming up, watched as you departed from the table with a seemingly blank yet occupied expression. You didn’t notice your fellow house member and the concerned look on his face as you passed his table. Did Donghyuck do something to her? He thought, She’s been spending a suspicious amount of time with  him…

“Lee Donghyuck,” he stood at the boy’s side, trying to hold back his anger. He didn’t want to act up right away, “I have a question.”

Donghyuck didn’t lift his head from the text-filled book, “I can’t talk right now, Mark, I have a test to ace.” “This will be quick,” Mark snapped his fingers by Donghyuck’s ear, which didn’t serve its purpose. Donghyuck was tracing his finger along the line he was reading, not giving Mark any of the attention he was asking for, “Donghyuck.”

“I said I don’t have time,” he mumbled, eyes still occupied on the text.

Mark’s patience ran low and he grabbed the book, closing it so that Donghyuck was forced to look. Donghyuck gasped, “I didn’t even get to save the page!” He tried to reach for the book but Mark hid it behind his back.

“I’ll give it back once you answer my question,” Mark calmly explained, “Y/N has been spending less time with me and the others with no explanation because she’s been spending time with you. That’s out of character. Not even three days ago you guys hadn’t even spoken a full conversation to each other… I don’t want to accuse you of anything but… did you do something to her? Are you threatening her or something?”

“No,” he replied bluntly, “Now give the book back, Markly.”

“Lying, I can tell. You’re acting like how you did when you came to our table the other day…” Mark dropped his arm to his side, the weight of the textbook wearing out his arm, “Tell me what you did and I won’t get mad.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Donghyuck answered quickly. He snatched the book straight from Mark’s hand and sat back down in his chair, “Now please leave. I need to focus.” “I won’t leave until you tell the truth. It’s obvious you’re lying, look how fast you’re shaking your leg.” Donghyuck hadn’t even noticed his leg was bouncing. With the test in mind and now Mark bothering him, he seemed to lose some control of his body. He looked up at Mark, the tension in his eyes fully disappearing from the constant strain he was putting on them. He contemplated whether or not he should tell you. You and Mark are close friends. Mark was only asking because he cared about you. Besides… he said he wouldn’t get mad.

Making sure no one was around, he gestured for Mark to sit down so he could tell him. There was still a hint of hesitation within him, though he knew it was too late as Mark was already leaning in with wide eyes.

“I-I… I-um, I gave her a love potion… Amortentia to be exact.”

Mark gasped and jumped back in his seat slightly, “A-amortentia?” Donghyuck could sense some anger coming from his voice and now he regretted telling the older boy. “Yeah…” he scratched the side of his thigh and smiled sheepishly, “It’ll only last for two weeks, no more. I—” “What was the purpose of this? You do know those who take the love potion can remember all the embarrassing things they do, right?” Mark looked back to make sure you weren’t coming.

“I-I don’t know… I guess just to see how it would turn out and how it works?” It took a moment for Donghyuck to process the last part Mark had said before it was turn to gasp. He was basically mimicking the expression Mark had made just a minute before, “They can?”

“Yeah… didn’t you read it from the book? It’s like a precaution or something,” Mark was trying to hold in his laughter. He knew that he was a dumbass, but not as dumb as Donghyuck was being right now.

“Oh shit…” Donghyuck cussed. He was hoping that after all of this, you both could go your own ways and it would all be done. But now that he found out that you would know everything that you would go through the next two weeks, he couldn’t help but think that his great grandchildren could feel that embarrassment. “That probably explains why… when she’s not looking at me she seems to act like how she normally is.”

Mark was snickering now. His body was shaking from silencing it, “I-I’ll just.” He choked back his laugh and stood up, “Normally I’d get really pissed off. She’s like a sister to me but that’s already a bad punishment. Rest in peace, Hyuck.” He heard footsteps coming from behind him and quickly ducked at the sight of you coming with a large stack of books, “But I just wanna say one thing. Please stop treating her like this… It’s just not right, dude.”

Donghyuck watched as you struggled while trying to get to him, books threatening to fall from the stack in your arms. The weak smile that you still held on your face and the building beat of sweat that sat at your hairline made him realize that you actually were struggling… the potion probably just stopped you from telling him no.

“I think I will…”

Mark blinked at Donghyuck, “Think? Well I guess that’s a start… Well I’ll see you later, Hyuck. I’ll be watching!”

Donghyuck waved as a reply and then immediately went to help you. He’ll stop treating you this way from this point on.

I guess I’ll just let the potion work its magic.

Ten Days Remaining.

The Great Hall was close to empty. There were a few students scattered throughout the tables, you, Donghyuck, and Renjun among those few.

Renjun had a sketch book laid out, pencil in hand as he rendered whatever came to mind onto the book. His tongue was slightly hanging out as he focused on the drawing. You sat next to him with a reading book out, which wasn’t really being read as you kept your attention on Donghyuck, who sat right across from Renjun. Donghyuck was, not surprisingly, studying for the upcoming history exam. Though he had the concept memorized, almost engraved, into his head, there was still a part of him that believed that he would still fail the test.

“You look tired,” you pointed out lightly, “Did you eat?” Your eyes didn’t leave his face as he turned his attention to you.

“I ate a sandwich?” It was more a question rather than an answer. He knew that wasn’t enough, judging by the fact he didn’t eat lunch or breakfast either.

“I’ll get you something to eat. I’ll go to the kitchen,” you insisted, “You need to eat if you can’t stop studying like this. You can’t not eat, Hyuck.”

He smiled at you genuinely, not used to someone caring for him this much at Hogwarts. He remembered Mark’s words, “You don’t need to.”

“But I want to,” you replied, “I’ll get you a snack and you better eat it.” You stood up from you seat and started your way down to the kitchen.

“You better not have told her to get you a snack,” Renjun muttered, face down to the paper.

Donghyuck’s mouth slightly dropped and he shook his head, “Did you not hear her? She basically insisted on getting me one.”

“Wow, character development,” Renjun had retorted with a slight hint of sarcasm. His eyes weren’t leaving the sketch book, “Tired of ordering her around?”

“I wasn’t tired but…” he looked towards the door and sighed, “Someone just reminded me that all of this is really messed up, someone who isn’t you at least… I guess having someone who wasn’t a best friend knocked sense into me and I felt bad?”

“Felt bad?” Renjun’s neck had pivoted to turn his attention to Donghyuck who was watching his reaction curiously, “You? Feeling bad? That’s not the Lee Donghyuck I know…” He turned back to his drawing, scribbling down some cross hatches at a desired spot.

“What do you mean by that?”

Renjun shrugged and didn’t even put effort into replying. Instead he focused all his energy into his drawing.

“All they had were cookies,” you smiled, “I guess that’s better than nothing.” You plopped the glass plate down by Donghyuck’s book.

“Thank you, Y/N.”

Nine Days Remaining.

“Want to go Hogsmeade later?” You found Donghyuck walking down one of the long corridors, head stuffed in a History of Magic book. He didn’t look up nor reply. He was so deep in focus that anyone coming his way would part just so they wouldn’t interrupt him.

“Hae?” You tugged at his sleeve, eyes following the slope of his nose.

Snapping out of his trance, he laughed sheepishly and apologized, “What did you say?”

“Hogsmeade,” you replied, “Want to go later?” This week had been busy for you, too, and you really craved some butterbeer before Monday’s arrival.

Donghyuck needed to study for the test which was in just a few days. This was seriously the time for him to review and he couldn’t let the time slip right through his fingers, “Oh… I–“

Just by the tone of his voice, you knew he was about to turn it down. Your face faltered slightly. A part of you had waited for this moment for the past week. It was just excitement built up for nothing.

Your saddened expression had caught Donghyuck’s attention immediately.

“Why?” He shut his book and paid attention to you.

“Nothing… I just wanted to go to Hogsmeade but it's okay if you’re busy...” you answered quickly. You tried your hardest to change the subject, which caused you to leave your mouth dry. No words came out while subjects were being tossed back and forth in your head.

Gaze shifting between you and the thick textbook at hand, Donghyuck gulped slightly when he found himself in the middle of a somewhat difficult decision. The past few days, you had been your happy self, smiling bright, radiating energy similar to the sun. Now, it was all gone just because of one simple thing. He didn’t like that.

He needed a break from studying right? He’d been studying almost endlessly for the past two days… he could use a break. “Wait, I’ll go with you.”

Your face lit up, like how a Christmas tree would, “Really? A-are you sure?” Your eyes were directed at the book in Donghyuck’s hand, which he had hidden quickly.

“I’m sure. I’ve been studying the whole day anyways… I need a break,” he laughed slightly, “I’ll meet you at the start of the path in ten?”

Smile widening, you nodded. Your feet teetered onto its toes as you reached your lips to Donghyuck’s jawline, pecking it. You whispered a little, “I’ll see you then,” before turning for the edge of the school grounds to wait for him.

Did that just happen? Donghyuck was stunned, briefly forgetting that you were currently under a love spell. He forgot that there were possibilities of skinship and kisses like you had done just now. So here he was, slowly reaching for the spot you had kissed him. Weird.

Snapping out of the daze, he shook his head at the unfamiliar fuzzy feeling that tickled his stomach while he found his way back to his chambers to drop his book off.

“This is nice,” you sighed out. Your breath could be seen because of how cold it was outside, “It’s good to breathe air that isn’t school air.”

“True,” Donghyuck replied. He had forgotten his mittens inside his chest back in the boys’ dorm, which he now regrets. He was constantly rubbing his hands together like how one would build a fire with two sticks. But no flame was created and all he felt was nipping from the icy wind.

“Cold?” It was hard for you to miss the boy and this efforts to create heat with his hands. He nodded like a young kid, still trying to produce warmth through the palms of his hands, “Come here.” You held your gloved hands out to him. Though he was confused, he ‘handed’ you his bare hands.

You did your best to hold his larger hands in yours, trying to warm them up as you guys approached the destination ahead. Donghyuck looked down at your guys’ hands with a hint of awe. He looked back up at your face, which you noticed. You only returned his shocked look with a small smile, “Better?”

“Y-yeah… thanks.” By that time, you and Donghyuck had reached The Three Broomsticks, which actually wasn’t as crowded as you thought it would be.

You let go of his hands to hurry inside, holding the door open for the Slytherin.

It was funny to Donghyuck because, for some reason, his hands still felt cold even when you guys were inside. But he wouldn’t admit to himself why it did.

“Butterbeer?” You questioned. He nodded.

“I can order, you can go save us some spots,” Donghyuck offered. Gladly taking it, you turn towards the front of the pub to sit by the windows.

Once you were gone, Donghyuck had stolen a glance in the middle of thinking. He liked it when you were like this. When you didn’t act like you were under a spell. He always thought that love potions would make people act crazy. But not like this. It was refreshing. It was like you guys were actually dating.

You didn’t even like her before, you dumbass, now shut up, he quickly stopped his thoughts before they had gone too far. The two drinks were slid in front of him which he had gladly taken before turning to where you had sat down, It’s just the spell and how she’s acting. You’re only feeling this now because of the spell. You can’t possibly actually like her because of this.

Eight Days Remaining.

It didn’t take long for Donghyuck to figure out why it had been quiet the past few hours. All classes were finished and Donghyuck was planning on going to the library to study a bit more before his  quidditch practice, but the fact that you weren’t at his side sort of bothered him. He had grown used to you tagging along for the past week and at this point it was just weird for you to not be there.

He wandered through the corridors he happened to pass by, subtly eyeing the classrooms and students along the way. Glancing down at his watch, he nodded to himself when he calculated a lengthy three hours before practice. If he were to find you in under an hour, then he’d have two hours to study, which was good.

Noticing a familiar boy dressed in a Gryffindor robe, Donghyuck stopped him with a remorseful grin, “Jeno, sorry to bother you.”

Jeno’s puppy dog eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, “Donghyuck? What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you’ve seen Y/N? Haven’t seen her the entire day,” Donghyuck unconsciously teetered back and forth on his feet, feeling a bit giddy.

“I think I saw her going to the forbidden forest with Hagrid…” Jeno hummed, “So I guess you might find her around his hut?”

“The forbidden forest? For what?”

“Beats me…” Jeno shrugged. Over Donghyuck’s shoulder, a few voices called out for Jeno, “Well I gotta go. Hope I helped.”

“Thanks.”

Donghyuck began making his way down the hill, eyes set on Hagrid’s hut that sat nearby the forest. Just at the front, he spotted you sitting on the steps of the building with a cup in hand. It looked like you were in a relaxed state, staring out at the thriving forest like it was the sunset.

When you heard footsteps that weren’t even close to the heavy ones that belonged to Hagrid, you looked up from your daydream like gaze, smile widening more than it already was, “Hae!”

“Y/N,” he smiled, “Where have you been all day? I was looking for you.”

“Got excused for the day since I was helping Hagrid with some chores,” you replied, “Got to see some of my favourite creatures…” There was a brief moment of silence before you continued, “You should come along one day… unless you’re a scaredy-cat or something.”

“Ha-ha, funny,” Donghyuck sat next to you and laughed, “Just because I’m not a Gryffindor doesn’t mean I get scared easily.”

“I know,” you snickered. Taking the last sip of your drink, you hummed, “Why were you looking for me anyways? Missed me?”

Though Donghyuck knew the spell was talking and that you were joking, that one simple question drove him into a state of confusion. Why was he looking for you? It wasn’t like the spell needed the presence of the administrator for it to work. So why did he want to find you? Shouldn’t he enjoy the rare moments of your absence?

“You did!” You teased again. You reached for his face and poked his cheek, “Cutie.”

Though Donghyuck wasn’t sure about his own feelings and reasons, he chuckled slightly and pushed you playfully, “Shut up~”

-

Donghyuck hugged the quaffle as he slowly neared the ground, almost out of breath even when hadn’t done any actual cardio. It was still exhausting to be throwing the ball back and forth and into one of the hoops.

“Good practice today, guys,” Xiaojun, the team captain, smiled. He was slightly hovering above all of them, overlooking them with a proud smile, “We are definitely ready for that tournament.”

At the mention of the tournament, Donghyuck’s excited smirk faltered, suddenly remembering that he’d have to do well on the test in order to play. He still hadn’t told his teammates yet, which he knew he should have so they had the chance to practice with the other chasers.

“You’re all dismissed.” Xiaojun lowered himself, hopping off of his broom at the right height.

“Xiaojun can I talk to you?” Donghyuck could feel his grip tightening nervously around his stick as Xiaojun approached him.

“Of course, what is it?” Xiaojun propped up his broomstick against a nearby wall, resting his hands on his hips, “You did good out there today, Hyuck.”

“Thanks…” Donghyuck shifted back and forth between his left and right feet, unable to find a good way to tell him the news, “Professor Sylva told me that if I didn’t do well on a test then I can’t play the tournament.” He kept his gaze down at his feet and frowned, “Sorry I only told you now.”

“What?” Though Xiaojun was trying to hold his disappointment back, Donghyuck could sense it easily. He let the silence drag on for a second longer.

“I’m really sorry,” Donghyuck spoke under his breath. Xiaojun scowled slightly at the younger boy in front of him, “I’m only disappointed because I expected better from you, Donghyuck. You’re one of the best players, possible captain of next year’s team… But as my mother says, school’s important so I can’t get too mad.”

A sigh of relief left Donghyuck’s mouth. He was expecting some sort of lecture from his friend, but thankfully he pushed it to side.

“I expect you to do well on that test.” Xiaojun turned towards the changing rooms, Donghyuck following him not too far behind.

As Donghyuck left the changing room to go for dinner, he was greeted by the lovesick Gryffindor who’s presence had grown on him. He smiled as you approached him, a toothy grin dancing on your face effortlessly. “You’re still here?” Donghyuck asked.

You started walking at his side, clutching a book in your arms, “I left for a bit but it was to get you this.” Seemingly out of thin air, you pulled out some water.

“Thanks,” he the smile on his face grow, accepting the water before gulping most of it down.

A comfortable pause floated between you both as you were making your way to the great hall for dinner. Other students who had been outside were making their way in as well and it gave you a warm feeling. It was the sense of community that you loved. You turned towards Donghyuck to share the feeling but you stop yourself when you see that his eyebrows were closely knitted together and his lips that often held a smile was upside down.

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s that test in two days.”

It was your turn to furrow your eyebrows. Grabbing his hand to hold it, you questioned him, “Why are you worried? You’ve been working hard towards acing this test, more than me. I don’t see how you’ll fail this exam. Just be confident that you’ll succeed.”

He bit his lip and shrugged, “I guess I feel like even if I do study my hardest, there’ll be other variables that would stop me from succeeding.” Turning to you, he gave you a reassuring smile and sighed, “But thanks Y/N.”

Six days remaining.

Donghyuck had no idea if it was the room that was growing hot or if it was just him. He had walked into the room ready and confident to ace the test but now that the package of paper was sitting in front of him, he wondered if it was all just false confidence that had filled his head.

He looked over at you from across the room, mouthing a ‘good luck’ to brighten his own mood. You smiled back and held a thumbs up, mouthing back a ‘you too.’ The professor went over the format and the amount of questions, stating that there was very limited in the questions she could answer.

“You may start,” she said sharply. She stood front and centre of the room, eyeing each student and making sure that no one was planning to cheat.

To the best of his ability, he answered the multiple choice questions, taking his time if there were sources that supported the question. He underlined what he believed were the important parts of the source and used them to answer what the question was looking for. Only he was never certain when he actually came to answering the question.

“Ten minutes left,” Professor Sylva’s voice echoed throughout the room and it caused the pace of Donghyuck’s heart to speed up involuntarily. There were forty questions and he was stuck on question twenty-nine. He looked around to see if anyone else was still writing, which to his relief, most of the class was. Even you. He instantly regretted taking his time reading the earlier questions thoroughly. If he hadn’t done so, then maybe he would have time to finish and look over the questions again. The muscles in his eyes began skimming the remaining questions and answers, choosing those that seemed like something he had read from the numerous textbooks in the library.

“Five.” Professor Sylva was already clearing a spot on her side desk for students to place the exam. Donghyuck gulped.

Just as the Professor stood to announce the end of the test, Donghyuck was able to finish answering the final question, a sigh of relief leaving his partly opened lips. Row by row, the students began to file down the walk ways, placing the exam firmly on the perfectly cleared spot on her desk. Students have already started discussing the answers they had put down on the test, groaning if their answers hadn’t matched one that left one of the top students’ mouths.

“How’d you find it?” a fellow Slytherin, Seungmin, came up from behind Donghyuck, “I think I did decent.”

“I-I actually don’t know,” Donghyuck’s head played back the many times he marked a question with a star, meaning he was unsure that he had gotten that right, “I just don’t understand… I studied so damn hard for this test and I still found it difficult.”

“It’s either I failed or you failed,” Seungmin threw an arm around the boy, “But I mean no tests are easy you know. You never know, you could have done well.”

“I guess so.” Seungmin waved a quick goodbye before joining his friends, leaving Donghyuck alone once they had reached the doors.

“How are you?” You appeared at Donghyuck’s side, strands of hair out of place from messing with it during the test. You looked like you had just gotten a new owl for Christmas, corners of your mouth turned up.

“I don’t even know.”

“Well, you probably did good,” you held his hand and started swinging it, “Don’t worry about it too much okay?”

Donghyuck looked down at your intertwined fingers, feeling his expression soften a bit. It was actually comforting having someone there, even if problems weren’t that serious. Sure, Donghyuck had Renjun and other people from his house, but it wasn’t the same as how you comforted him.

“I won’t.” It wasn’t a promise but he knew you just wanted to hear a reply that satisfied you.

“Good. I’ll see you after classes.” Just like the day you both had gone for Hogsmeade, you bring yourself up to kiss Donghyuck’s cheek. You dropped your hands and waved, turning towards your next class.

Donghyuck didn’t admit it to himself but he was starting to get used to that funny feeling in his chest.

Five Days Remaining.

Donghyuck was struggling to keep his eyes open, head falling forward and almost into the oatmeal he had chosen as breakfast. He reached for a cup of coffee that was sitting to his right, gulping it all down in hopes to wake himself up.

Renjun, who was sitting across the table, couldn’t help but laugh at his friend, “You’re a dumbass.” It was one of those loving insults, when you knew the one saying it didn’t actually mean for it to hurt you. This was how Donghyuck and Renjun spoke to each other most of the time, “Why’d you stay up last night. I almost lost sleep because of your constant muttering.”

Donghyuck forcibly widened his eyes, “I was going over the test in my head.” He used the silver spoon to pick up a lump of oatmeal, throwing it into his mouth, “I was trying to make sure I didn’t make any mistakes.”

“You know the more you think about it, the more you’ll actually cause yourself stress,” Renjun munched on a bright green apple. He could spot the heavy bags beneath Donghyuck’s eyes and actually grew worried. Donghyuck has never been in such a state. This tournament was seriously that important to him.

“You know you have next year’s tournament if you miss this year’s,” Seungmin butted in. He was sitting about a foot from where Renjun sat, trying to finish some last minute homework. Being part of Slytherin meant he knew all the stuff that went on in the house, “You actually look like you’re ill or something.”

“You don’t understand,” Donghyuck groaned, “I’m a possible candidate for next year’s captain. This is one of my only chances to impress Xiaojun.” Again, Donghyuck basically inhaled another cup of coffee like it would wash down his worries. He stuffed his mouth with oatmeal and some pancake that was an arm’s length away from him.

Renjun twisted the apple’s stem slowly, “How are you balancing that Y/N situation and this situation all at once? Isn’t she a bother… you know with the potion and all…” Renjun leaned in to whisper the last part. He hadn’t been around Donghyuck outside of the dorms as much as the time prior to the spell.

Donghyuck dropped his spoon and gaped subtly at Renjun, “Bother?”

“Yeah like, annoying and stuff,” Renjun took another bite out of his apple, juices oozing out.

“Actually no… she’s actually been helping me.”

“Helping you?” Renjun questioned through a filled mouth, “Wow, really didn’t expect that.”

“I didn’t either.” Donghyuck looked towards the Gryffindor table and to your usual spot. There you were sitting with Mark and Jeno, laughing at your daily dose of Mark’s foolishness. Spontaneously, Donghyuck felt himself wake up a bit more, eyes feeling less heavy and muscles starting to work again. Only, he didn’t know if it was the coffee finally kicking in or the sight of your smile.

-

Donghyuck was walking alongside his two friends, wandering aimlessly through the halls. All classes were over and there was no other way to kill time than fool around.

“I’m only like an inch shorter than you!” Renjun flicked Jaemin, their Hufflepuff friend, on the arm, “Not even!”

“Still shorter than me,” Jaemin teased. He broadened his shoulders to look like he had a larger frame than Renjun. Renjun shot a glare at him and flicked him again. This was his only defense as of now. He had no intentions of hurting the boy. Though Jaemin knew this, he poked Renjun’s side and started running down the hall in hopes of getting away.

He can’t catch him anyways, Donghyuck laughed, keeping his pace. Suddenly from down an intersecting hall, the familiar shriek of a voice had bounded down it like an echo, startling not only Jaemin and Renjun,  but Donghyuck as well, who was doing nothing wrong.

“Boys! Stop running!” It was Professor Sylva. Her hair was messier than usual for no reason.

The three of them had stopped dead in their tracks, head shooting at the direction of the terrifying witch. She was making her way down the hall at a fast old lady speed and her robe was flapping behind her. Anyone who wasn’t used to the sight would actually be running the opposite direction. Only the three boys were smart enough to not be doing so.

As she got to them, she eyed them carefully, eyelid basically twitching. When her eyes set on Donghyuck, she narrowed her eyes and her brows had knitted so close together that it merged into one, “You.”

“M-me?” Donghyuck stammered. He sounded like a wimp, but he had to admit that Professor Sylva terrified him the most out of all the teachers. She was blunt and she seemed like she didn’t care about anything but her and the cat usually followed her around. Just picture Lady Tremaine.

“Perfect timing,” she said, “Boys you guys are excused. I need to speak to Mr. Lee.”

Gladly, Renjun and Jaemin bolted from the hall, but instead of running, the speed walked out there.

“This must be a mistake, Professor, I wasn’t even running!” he tried to defend himself, scared he’d lose points for his house. Before he got to add anything else to his defense, the woman interrupted him.

“It’s not about this. I’m talking about your exam grade,” she started walking down the hall, motioning for Donghyuck to follow.

“O-oh?” He gulped and felt his heart skip a beat, “How did I do?”

Professor Sylva turned around sharply, eyes narrowed once again, “You did… suspiciously well.”

A smile grew widely on Donghyuck’s face, weight lifting off of his shoulders faster than a snap. But then he shouldn’t have reacted so soon.

“I’m not letting you play the tournament.”

“W-what?” Donghyuck was a stuttering mess, “B-but you said I did well! That was the deal. I-If I did well, then I could play!” His voice started to rise.

“Don’t raise your voice at me, Donghyuck,” Tremaine hushed, “You cheated on that test… Even the brightest of students didn’t get a mark as high as you.”

Donghyuck stared at the Professor, mouth agape, “E-exactly! If no one else got that mark then how could I have che-”

“No excuses! You’re not playing and that’s final,” if looks could kill, Donghyuck would have been dead by now.

“B-but—”

“No excuses,” Professor Sylva started walking down the hall, “I’m disappointed in you, Donghyuck.”

She left Donghyuck standing at the centre of the hall alone. He felt like crying, which he had never done in all his years at Hogwarts. He swore on his life, on his own family, that he didn’t cheat. He knew he was not the brightest, but he would never cheat on a test, not even on a quiz.

“Hyuck?” Where he had come from, he heard Renjun’s voice call for him, “What happened?”

He craned his neck to look back, tears threatening to leave his eyes. As he replied, he couldn’t control the way his voice cracked, “It’s nothing. I need space.” Knowing Donghyuck, Renjun let him go. He watched as Donghyuck began walking  away from him, slowly disappearing from his sight.

Donghyuck didn’t dare look up. He stared at the tips of his shoes as they peeked out from beneath his robe after each step he took. He didn’t want to be seen on a brink of tears. He knew that if he were to speak once more, he’d break down.

All of that hard work only to be snubbed? He thought, Utter bullshit.

He was so tempted to kick the wall, though he loved his feet and the walls were pure stone. Donghyuck decided to just resort on walking, trying to hum out some tunes to get his mind off of things.

At one point in the middle of his seemingly endless walk, he heard a voice he hadn’t heard all day, “Hyuck!”

He glanced up slightly, seeing that you were already making your way down the hall, beaming a bright smile towards. As you got closer, your smile began to fade in realization of Hyuck’s red eyes and the pout that lay lazily on his face.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” He noticed how much your eyes showed sincerity, which was probably not normal for one under a love potion.

He just shook his head, still refusing to speak. There was no way he’d cry. Not in the middle of this hall when anyone could walk in. Not in front of you when he could possibly embarrass himself. He would rather hold it all in for later.

You reached your hand out and intertwined you fingers with his, “Come.”

Even if he was confused, he didn’t speak up. He tried to keep the tears at the same time he was trying to figure out where you were taking him. You guide him down a bunch of stairs and then up others. You both passed by a variety of hallways with plenty of decorations on the walls. It’s like you were taking him all the way across the school.

Not long after, he found that you had brought him into a small room in one of Hogwarts’ pillars. It looked like an unused classroom. Blackboards lining the supposed front of the room and shelves to place books or such onto it. A small bunch of stairs lead up to the front, probably where the teacher could stand higher than students. It fascinated Donghyuck.

“Now you can tell me,” you stated, “I know you’re afraid of people seeing you cry so I took you here.” From how you spoke, Donghyuck guessed this was some sort of secret spot you had or even one you shared with your friends. It touched him somehow that you had chosen to bring him there. Even with that potion still running through your blood. It seemed like…

“I–“ Even with a short, one syllable word his voice cracked. But this time he let some tears go, “It isn’t fair…”

You sat down at an enlarged windowsill and listened to him continue, “I worked so fucking hard to get a good mark on that test and damn Sylva thinks I cheated.” Anger caused Donghyuck to walk back and forth along the space in front of you. He was clutching onto the sleeves of his robe, eyebrows furrowed.

“I would never cheat. She didn’t even let me explain myself,” by now he was full on crying, not sobbing, but close. He let the tears flow, he didn’t care if you heard the way his voice wavered, which he was secretly insecure of, “Now I can’t play at that damn tournament.

“The past fucking week I’ve been losing sleep and getting migraines just for that hard fucking test and I hate how the effort I put is all wasted… and mind her, I rarely put any effort into school… Am I… Am I overreacting?” He stopped in front of you. Tear stained cheeks visible because of the sun shining through the window.

You noticed how the brown of his eyes were engulfed by a darkening red and you couldn’t help but feel you heart truly drop at the sight.

You opened your arms and waved him over. He approached you slowly and shyly crept closer. Once he was in a good distance, you brought him into your arms and held him tightly.

“Professor Sylva is at fault here,” you say in a hushed tone. It wasn’t because you were under a spell that you were saying that. It was true that this was all unfair for Donghyuck when you’ve actually watched him study for the past few days, “She shouldn’t assume things. You’re not overreacting. I would be really mad if I were you, too.”

Donghyuck wasn’t crying out loud anymore. He had his face buried into your shoulder as he hugged you back. This was what he needed.

When you were sure he was finished crying, you gently dropped your arms and went to hold his face so that he would look at you. Your smaller hands struggled to do so, but you tried your best.

With emotions not hindering his other feelings any longer, Donghyuck was taken aback by the gesture. He felt his heart beat faster than a normal person’s would. For a second he thought he was going to pass out because of the rapid beating. But he soon came to a conclusion as to why it was beating that way.

He hated how real this moment felt. It seemed so genuine. The look in your eyes, the sincerity in the way you held his face. He wished it wasn’t the spell driving you to do this. Was the Amortentia potion this good? To make the person who had administered the potion feel things too?

“You’re going to be okay,” you ensure, “Alright Hyuck?”

Donghyuck hummed as a quiet response, eyes pouring straight into yours.

Now his heart hurt and it wasn’t only because of missing that Quidditch tournament.

Four days remaining.

Donghyuck and Renjun has stayed up until midnight talking about what happened. All from Professor Sylva and that bullshit to the moment you and Donghyuck had in that unused classroom. It was a surprise to Donghyuck that, even after a long day, he was still wide awake and thinking about it.

He held a hand to his chest and blinked at his friend who was fast asleep in the bed next to his. Why was he feeling this way? He shouldn’t even feel this way because in the end he’s just hurting himself. This was all feelings being brewed up from the actions of a girl who was literally under a potion.

The two weeks of the potion was almost up and he knew that after it was all done that you’d be trying your hardest to avoid him after what he’s done to you.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Donghyuck air punched himself in the head, “Donghyuck you dumbass. Stop. Just sleep.”

“Yeah I agree,” Renjun murmured, eyes closed, “I can't sleep when I can literally sense you staring at me.”

“Sorry,” Donghyuck apologized. He sighed and turned over to the other side of his body. Maybe these feelings were all because of the events happening. Maybe it will go away when he wakes up later. It was just a small crush.

-

Donghyuck suddenly realized that he was completely wrong when he found himself stirring the coffee he had with a spoon. The repeated sound of the metal being dragged across the glass could probably be heard by the other Slytherins on his side of the table. Renjun, who was sitting next to him today, was surprised no one had tried to stop him yet.

“Clear your head or something,” Renjun roughly bit on a bagel. He was only trying to look out for his friend.

“I… Can’t…” Donghyuck glanced towards the Gryffindor table, spotting you you almost immediately out of all those students, “Is it possible for a love spell to like… diffuse into another person?”

Renjun choked on the warm bread and pivoted his head towards you, “Huh?”

“Diffuse… well in this case move from one person to another.” Donghyuck wasn’t aware of Renjun’s shocked look. He was staring at the reflection of himself in the black coffee, blinking plainly.

“I-I don’t think so?” Renjun wasn’t sure, but he hadn’t read of those possibilities in the books, “Why?”

“Because I think I have feelings for her,” Donghyuck wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. He felt these emotions brewing up since that day Mark came to him the library, or more obviously, on that trip to Hogsmeade. He just didn't want to admit anything in case of his brain and his heart playing some tricks on him. He handled the potion didn’t he? It could've absorbed into his skin, which wasn’t even possible.

Renjun soon found this conversation more interesting than the food on his plate. He completely dropped it all and sat so that he was straddling the bench, “Feelings? How?”

“You know how amortentia makes people all wonky and weird?” Renjun nodded. He remembers learning about it in class. There were only a few rare classes where the spell didn’t do that or the effects were milder in some individuals.

“Well… there were times when it didn’t seem like she was... intoxicated, in lack of a better term,” Donghyuck described, “To me it felt real, which is bad to think about… there are times when I think that it wouldn’t be so bad to actually be dating her.”

The meal had finished and they were off to class, though the conversation continued.

“I’m not telling you to stop liking her or anything,” Renjun started, “But what’s going to happen when the spell wears out and she remembers everything you did to her? What if she hates you for what you did and you still have these feelings? The way she’s acting now is all because of that stupid potion you coined a week or so ago.”

“I only treated her ‘bad’ for like two days, then I stopped… ” Donghyuck reasoned, “But after that, I really don’t know.”

If only he knew that he was going to catch feelings for you, he would have thought this through. There was still a bit of hope inside of him that this was all just false, temporary feelings, but his heart beat says otherwise. There was no telling what would happen as soon as the spell wears out, but he knows for sure that it’ll hurt.

Two Days Remaining.

Donghyuck did not want to do anything with Hufflepuff’s quidditch team nor did he want to seem like a spy, but Jaemin had told him to wait by the pitch because he needed help with something after. Being the nice friend he was, he chose to wait.

He found a nice spot underneath a tree that was planted by the pitch. Donghyuck figured it was a good spot since he wasn’t actually able to see the team run their plays. He could only see them if they flew high enough. The sun shone warmly on his bare skin too, which was a bonus.

Leaning back against the tree’s trunk, he crossed his arms behind his head and relaxed. This was the first time he had done so the past few days, especially with the news Sylva dropped. He needed this. It was refreshing.

“What are you doing?”

Donghyuck looked up to see you standing there, hair catching the breeze gently. Your head was tilted slightly curiously.

“Just… sitting,” Donghyuck’s heart began to beat faster.

“By the pitch?” You laughed lightly. Making your way to his side, you sat down close enough so that your shoulder grazed his when you moved. You mirrored his state, “You know… watching others play won’t make you feel better, dumbass.” Shouldering him playfully, you brought a hand up to his eyes to cover them.

“I’m not watching them…” he defended, “Jaemin told me to wait for him.”

You let out a sound that meant you understood and then removed your hand from his eyes. This time, your head fell naturally on his shoulder. Silence took it upon itself to lay over both of you, comfortably sitting there like the both of you.

Even if the quidditch practice went no longer than two hours, the calming atmosphere had lulled you into a light nap right on Donghyuck’s shoulder. He hadn’t known you fell asleep until he heard the steady breaths leave your nose.

A gentle yet shy smile washed over his lips when he looked down out at you. His heart didn’t even try to settle back into its resting it’s normal rate. It continued to beat at such an abnormal speed that he felt like he was going to explode. Though it was a somewhat good feeling, he knew that this would only hurt more when the spell ended. He likes you too much at this point to get over his feelings in such a short time.

From afar he noticed Mark walking alone by the castle’s closest entrance. Mark, too, had noticed the two of them. It didn’t take long for him to decide to come over.

“How’s it going Hyuck?” Mark questioned. Donghyuck knew damn well he was asking both for him and for the situation. Mark’s eyes were shifting between your sleeping figure and Donghyuck.

“Good…” he threw him an ‘I’m okay’ smile and followed Mark’s gaze towards you.

“How long till the spell wears out?”

“The last day’s tomorrow.” Mark sensed an unusual tone in Hyuck’s voice. His ears perked up and tried to read Donghyuck’s eyes for emotions.

“You seem sad…” Mark sat down in front of them, a little bit more towards Donghyuck.

“Sad?” Donghyuck questioned. He didn’t mean to sound sad.

“Yeah…” Mark looked towards Donghyuck once again, trying to sense what type of energy spilled out of Donghyuck’s body, “You like her don’t you.”

Donghyuck’s cheeks flushed and he tried to hide his face with his free arm. It was lucky for him that the sleeve was larger than his head. This action already confirmed Mark’s assumptions.

“Not going to lie,” Mark started. He was picking at the grass, pulling them out carefully so that he could see the light green at the bottoms of each one, “It wasn’t obvious but she was interested in you… I’m not sure in what way, but she thought you were cool.”

Donghyuck couldn’t reply. All he did was look at Mark with doubt.

“I’m not joking,” Mark said a bit louder, “But yeah. What are you going to do after the spell wears off?”

“I don’t know,” Donghyuck couldn’t shrug, “Whatever happens, happens. If she hates me after this, I don’t blame her. I’m going to miss her, though.” He laughed at his own cheesiness, cringing a bit too.

“Well,” Mark made a clicking sound with his mouth, “True, you got a point… I gotta go but I wanted to say thanks for not continuing the way you treated her like before.” He held a hand out for a ‘bro-handshake,’ Hyuck immediately going in for it. At that, Mark left.

Donghyuck stares back down at you and sighed. Tomorrow was the last day the spell would be working and possibly the last day you would even talk to him. He can’t waste that.

When he finished helping Jaemin with carrying a project over to his classroom, he looked down at the wristwatch, “It’s… four. Do you think I could still go to Hogsmeade?”

“I don’t see why not. Curfew is not until ten,” Jaemin shrugged, “Why though?”

“It’s nothing.”

One Day Remaining.

Mondays were bad. But remembering that the spell wears out tomorrow and today could be the last day you’d be hanging around Hyuck just made it worse.

The classes that usually felt long on normal days felt like a few short minutes, which somehow angered Donghyuck. The day that mattered the most at the moment was flying past way too quickly when he honestly did not want it to.

By the end of class, he glanced at you, who had already been looking at him. He didn’t flinch at all though. Two weeks with the spell, he had grown used to it. A small piece of him even liked it.

“Are you busy after classes today? Plans to help out Hagrid?” he questioned. His fingers fidgeted with the writing utensil he held in his hand, tapping it, twirling it, anything to occupy them.

You leaned over towards the table and shake your head, “No, I don’t think so… why?”

“Want to hang out?” It was his first time asking you to hang out with him. Usually, it was you who engaged it, which made sense because of amortentia.

“Hang out?” Your eyes lit up at the idea, “Where? We can’t go to Hogsmeade.”

“I don’t know… around the castle? We can go people watching, judge paintings. If the sun sets early enough, we can watch it before curfew. Maybe star gazing,” his mouth spoke before his head could even think. All these things he had been thinking about throughout the day. Donghyuck could not control himself.

“That sounds better than going to Hogsmeade,” you smile. He mirrors your smile and nods at himself.

Almost just as the class ended, you both were the door and straight to aimlessly wandering around wherever your feet took you both. Some areas you’d stare at the paintings, trying to find its purpose and laughing when the paintings themselves corrected you both. Then for a short time, you’d be sitting at the popular hangout areas of the school and complemented those who were near and those who passed by. The smiles on your faces were shining as bright as the torches on the stone walls and it was pretty evident to everyone that there was no way they were able to wipe those off any time soon. At least, not until the end of the day.

After dinner, early evening, you and Donghyuck were perched on the wide windowsill of the unused classroom that you had brought him that one day, staring down at those who were in view and the sight that looked like a painting. You both sat on your robes for the purpose of comfort. The sun was low on the horizon, the bottom of it barely touching the place where land meets sky. The clock’s short hand sat perfectly in the middle of eight and nine, meaning that the sun was basically bound to set soon. Though it made Donghyuck sad that the day was coming to an end, he told himself that he shouldn’t let that ruin the mood and the energy between you both.

“Hae…”

He looked over and found you with your head resting against the glass, “Why do you call me that?”

“Cause it means ‘the sun,’” you replied. You were staring out at the sun as you said so.

“I know…” Donghyuck softly answered, “But why?”

Your eyes flickered over to him and you sat up, this time leaning your head back against the wall behind you. There was a pause as you started gathering an explanation that would make it easy for him to understand. He let this silence draw out, watching people down below faking some sort of duel.

“Hae… I guess that nickname sort of just fit, you know?” you started, “Probably starting first or second year, you sort of gave off the same energy as the sun… you brightened up the room, the energy, even if you always caused trouble. I found you interesting though. I wanted to be friends with you, which seemed easy judging my personality, but I could never get to ever doing it…”

A blush crept up to his face at the meaning of it. No one had never given him a nickname like that. Usually it just followed his real name, which, yeah, was nice, but one that actually had meaning? It caused a warm feeling to erupt in his chest. “Thanks, I guess?” he had no idea how to reply to it. Was it a compliment? “But hey, we’re here now right. You’re talking to me…”

You nodded, “That’s true…”

The sun had moved quickly in such a short time and as it sunk behind the horizon, with it, it pulled a beautiful pattern of colours. It had rendered both of you speechless, interrupting the conversation.

Not long after, the sky was almost pitch black, or a deep navy blue. The stars littered the sky, like someone had spilled a whole container of glitter. It was just as breathtaking as the sunset, maybe better. Playfully, you had began counting the amount of stars in the sky, Donghyuck joining in every once in a while. There were occurrences when you’d get distracted and talk about a subject with Donghyuck before getting back to counting.

“So much,” you lazily groaned out. You stopped at star one-hundred-and-seventeen and ran your hand through your hair, “And it looks like there’s one thousand more… so one-thousand-one-hundred-and-seventeen stars.”

“That is a lot,” Donghyuck chuckled. Naturally, he glanced over at the clock, “I think we have to get going… it’s half past ten.” The day’s over…

Donghyuck decided to walk you back to the Gryffindor Tower, where you silently and mutually decided to play a game of ‘try not to laugh.’

“Not fair,” you whisper-shouted. You weakly flicked Donghyuck’s shoulder, “This game is hard to play with you.”

“Not my fault I’m hilarious,” Donghyuck played along, brows raising with pride. The way he smiled caused his dimple to appear, making him look softer than he already was.

You rolled your eyes and began to skip ahead of him, trying your best to make a minimal amount of sounds with your feet. Donghyuck jogged to keep up, hair bouncing as he did. He had no idea how there weren’t scolded yet, by a professor or a prefect since the time was dangerously close to eleven.

Upon arriving at the Gryffindor landing, you slowed your pace so that Donghyuck could catch up. Silence was filled with the heavy breathing of both of you, a few breathy laughs being able to squeeze in between. Donghyuck began to realize that he almost had to say goodbye to you soon, his smile faltering slightly.

“Bye Hyuck, I’ll see you tomorrow,” you had your back beside the Fat Lady’s portrait, whispering the password.

Donghyuck’s heart stopped slightly. This was going way too quick for his liking, “Wait!”

Your brows furrowed, “Yeah?”

Stuffing his hands into his uniform’s pockets, he pulled out a cube shaped box. It was wine red velvet, and was so small that it barely filled the palm of his hand. Opening it, he pulled out a necklace, which had a star pendant. At the middle of that star was a diamond looking gem. It was simple, yet still so beautiful to the eye. It wasn’t too much.

“Hae!” You gasped quietly.

He couldn’t hold back the flourishing smile on his face, “I –  um – I wanted to give you this… a gift from me to you to apologize and for remembrance… it’s not a lot bu–“

“It doesn’t matter if it’s a lot,” you stepped forward, a shy expression creeping up on your face, “Why say sorry and why remembrance?”

He unlocked the clasp on the necklace which signaled for you to turn so he could put it on, which you gladly did, “That’s not important right now. You know when the time comes.”

You nodded understandingly. You couldn’t help but stare adoringly at the necklace, “It’s beautiful… like the one-thousand-one-hundred-and eleven stars up in the sky right now.” A hand went up and held the star tightly, “I don’t think I’ll ever take this off.” You closed the proximity between you both with a warm embrace. He held you back tightly.

Donghyuck blushed, even when he does remember that you probably wouldn’t after tonight. You probably wouldn’t even take a second glance at that necklace when that spell wears out and his present is just gonna get hurried in a jewelry box you owned. But it was okay. He was glad he was able to give you it. That you owned something that he gave you.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he whispered.

You looked up at him and grinned, reaching up to peck him on his jawline, “Goodnight, Hae.”

You let go and began making your way into the tower, “Bye Hyuck.”

“See ya, Y/N.”

Zero.

You stumbled down the stairs and into the Gryffindor common room, head pounding from who knows what. Mark was sitting by the fireplace while he read out of a school textbook.

“Good morning,” he greeted. He stretched his legs out and then folded them to himself, “You’re up early.”

“This headache woke me up… and the unconscious areas of my brain decided to make a whole weird dream for me...” you groaned, sitting next to him tiredly, “And now I can’t go back to sleep.” You grabbed your head, rubbing the temples with your fingers. You felt as though as you had done so much and gone through a lot but you know for sure that you hadn’t.

“Go get water or something,” Mark suggested, “Take medicine?”

“Sure, that sounds like a good idea,” you nodded. Standing up, you cringed into yourself as you felt the pounding return.

You made your way up to the girls’ dorms and grabbed medicine from your trunk. The bottle made a shaking noise as you walked heavily, passing by everyone else, still asleep. You almost jumped at your reflection in the mirror as you crossed paths with one. You had to stifle a laugh at your own foolishness, shaking your head. You were off off today.

Something caught your eye, stopping you in your tracks. What?

Your feet began to move your entire body to the mirror, eyes trained on that one thing that sat beneath the area where your collarbones left an empty spot.

Usually, you would never trust your eyes at this hour. They just weren’t functioning properly, but you could see it and you knew for sure your eyes weren’t lying to you. Not when you could now feel it against your chest.

“It wasn’t a dream?” You whispered. Reaching for the star that hung on your neck, your eyes widened, driven by the fear of your sudden realization, “Donghyuck wasn’t just a dream?”

Suddenly, the memories of the past two weeks had flooded back like a tsunami. All the embarrassing and cheesy things that you had done, the slight confession, the kisses, the hand holding… had you really done all of those things? You didn’t even remember willingly doing them. You cringed at yourself and ignored the headache that only grew with this epiphany. Thoughts of Donghyuck probably hating you and finding you weird had taken over your thoughts and you were close to freaking out. Why in the hell did you do that? When did you have the capacity to do that?

“Wait, no, stop,” you say, “I could just be thinking all that shit… what if I got this necklace from somewhere—someone else? I can ask Mark. Maybe he knows.”

You ran down the stairs, probably unintentionally waking up your fellow housemates as you did. At this point, you really didn’t care.

“Mark, who gave me this?” You stretched the necklace out to him, giving him a clear look at the necklace.

“Donghyuck did, you told me so last night,” he mindlessly muttered, “The spell’s suppose to wear out today, so I don’t know– hold the fuck up!” His eyes widened at his own realization of what he had revealed to you. He stood up rapidly, book dropping rapidly to the carpet.

“Spell?” Your eyes narrowed. Your fingers still played with the star, “What spell?”

Mark laughed nervously. He didn’t know if he was allowed to tell you, as it wasn’t his place to tell you, but it seemed like it was too late now. Before he was able to approach you, he watched as you almost fell into the wall. You saved yourself with your arms.

“Are you okay?” Mark hurried to your side.

“I’m fine, my head just… hurts a lot,” you squeezed your eyes shut and grabbed your head with your hands. Mark called for Jeno, who sprinted down the stairs half asleep, “Can you help me bring Y/N to the infirmary?” Jeno nodded and helped you up along with Mark.

A nurse almost knew that you guys were coming as she stood by the infirmary’s entrance ready to help out. Mark had explained to her how you woke up with a bad headache, but nothing about coming out of ‘spell coma.’ You hadn’t said anything about it either, mostly because you really had no idea about any potion.

The nurse laid you down on one of the nearest beds and started to check up on you, asking questions directly to you or Mark, Jeno standing behind as some sort of support.

“Is there anything severe going on?” Mark questioned. The nurse seemed to have finished her examination and was now standing to the side, writing some notes onto a pad of paper.

“Nothing bad. She needs a day’s rest,” the nurse replied quietly, “She can leave tomorrow morning.”

Mark nodded and sighed in relief. The nurse turned to leave to grab a few more things for treatment, leaving you, him, and Jeno alone. Mark let Jeno go back to the common room since he was abruptly woken up and he needed to tell you something that Jeno had business about.

“I’ll come back later to tell you some things…” Mark stated.

You cut him off, “Tell me everything… I really don’t care  if it’s not your place. It’ll be easier for me and for Donghyuck…” It was true. If you think about it, there was probably no way that Donghyuck was going to be able to explain everything.

Mark nodded, “Okay but I’m telling him that I’m telling you.”

-

If Donghyuck were to bluntly describe how he felt right now, he would use the words ‘scared shitless.’ He had no idea how he would act towards you now that he had these feelings. Should he act like none of the last two weeks happened? Should he act like he didn’t care? What if in the end you really didn’t care at all and he was just overthinking all of this?

When you didn’t arrive at any of the classes you shared with him, he couldn’t help but think that it was all his fault you hadn’t shown up. He really had no intention of embarrassing you like that or making you possibly feel stupid. He didn’t even know you’d remember all of it. Donghyuck knew it was him and his idea that was stupid. He really hoped that you didn’t feel that way.  He couldn’t even watch the team’s quidditch practice properly as his entire train of thought was basically devoted to you and you only.

“Lee!” Xiaojun yelled from yards away, “I know you’re not playing tomorrow, but you still have to watch us. Point out some things we can tweak.” Donghyuck’s lips tightened at the reminder as he nodded. He held a thumbs up instead of verbally responding to his teammate and sat back.

Xiaojun pushed off the ground and back into the air where the rest of the team played, leaving Donghyuck alone with his thoughts. Mindlessly, he used his eyes to follow anyone who whizzed past just to look like he was watching, but not in the way they wanted.

“Hyuck!” He heard someone call. His ears perked up immediately, hoping that it’d be you calling. He turned and found the lively Gryffindor waving his free arm.

“Markly!” Donghyuck called back. Mark was quickly making his way over to him, robe flapping behind him like a dorky cape. His left hand clutched a book tightly, threatened to fall due to his own speed.

“I’ve been looking for you the entire day,” he huffed, plopping into the seat next to the Slytherin, “It’s about Y/N.” Donghyuck was even more interested now. Mark continued, “The spell wore out this morning, I sorta accidentally told her about it.”

At this point, Donghyuck didn’t care. He only cared if you were okay, “Why didn’t she go to class?”

“She woke up with a really bad headache,” Mark started, “Probably from being released from the spell… she just needs rest though, so it’s nothing bad. I’m about to go there right now to tell her everything. She said it’d be easier for you.”

For some reason, the pace of Donghyuck’s heart started to speed up, “I-Is she mad at me?”

Mark shook his head, “I don’t think so? She seemed chill about it. I don’t know if that’ll change after I tell her everything she told me when she was under the spell.”

“Can I come?”

Mark sat silently for a bit, tapping the textbook with steady rhythm, “Do you really want to be the one to tell her everything?”

Donghyuck thought about it. Mark was right. Not only minutes ago he was filing through ways on how to approach you when he sees you again. Maybe it actually was best for Mark to explain it. Maybe he could be the one to tie the knot after the general explanation. Plus, he needed to ensure that you weren’t mad at him.

“Okay… I guess you can tell her,” he mumbled.

“Great, thanks!” Mark nodded once towards Donghyuck and stood up to leave.

“Just!” Mark stopped in his tracks as Donghyuck spoke up again, “Just don’t tell her the part about my feelings… I think I’ll tell her that part.”

A small and gentle smile crept up on Mark’s face. He nodded again. “I won’t. I promise. Anything else you want me to not tell?”

Donghyuck swung his legs underneath the bench as he sunk into a brief ocean of thought, “That’s all.”

-

When Mark arrived at the hospital wing, you were already prepared to take in the past two weeks. Sure it was partly from Mark’s point of view, and parts of yours due to the fact you unconsciously spilled everything, but it was a good start. It could help you in leading to understand Donghyuck’s point of view.

You pushed a cup of juice towards Mark, “Tell me… well remind me in this case. They all really felt like some sort of dream.”

And Mark did. He didn’t care about any of his plans to study the new unit in muggles class, he took his sweet time to tell you everything. He started off with Donghyuck’s motif and then straight to how he spotted you and Donghyuck at the library and how he carelessly treated you like a peasant. He took pride in the fact that he was the reason that Hyuck stopped treating you like that. That he enlightened him or something. Then he started to go on about the little date you guys had at Hogsmeade, which made you blush harder than you should. He added in the time he came looking for you the day you helped Hagrid, then followed it up with the test and the results and how you brought him to the classroom to spill how he felt.

“I remember how much you were worried for him that day,” Mark followed the rim of the cup with his finger, “You said he worked really hard for that test and how he studied harder than you did. You agreed that it was unfair of Sylva to do that and I agree.”

You nodded, “I remember that day… I think it’s the day I remember the most? They didn’t feel all dream-like like the others. If that’s possible. I think my other feelings overpowered the potion somehow because I was able to drive myself a lot when I saw how defeated he looked.” You didn’t even know if that was possible, but it was true. You felt your heart drop to the pit of your stomach at the sight of Donghyuck’s tears, “That day and the last day? I think.” Mark continued, telling you about how the rest of the days were all pretty similar to these days and how the potion drove most of your actions, “It’s lucky how you weren’t one of those people who acted like a lunatic when they consume the potion. You were actually pretty normal aside from the beginning. But after that, it just seemed like you really liked Donghyuck like how a normal person would.

“Finally, the last day,” Mark sighed out, “I don’t have every single detail, which you should have since you said you remembered it the most next to that other day, but that necklace,” he pointed to the piece of jewelry that still hung on your neck, “He gave that to you. He didn’t tell me why but he told you, pretty it’s obvious why he did, though.”

Once he concluded, he left you to respond. It was difficult for you to find a proper response or find a way you should react. Yes, you remembered the majority of it all, but you honestly could not believe that it really happened. What are the chances that Donghyuck would choose you for the potion, when you initially wanted to be friends with him anyways.

“Are you mad at him?”

“You know what’s funny?” You asked, blankly staring at the outline of your feet underneath the sheets.

“What?”

“I’m really not that mad for some reason, when I know I should be,” you shrugged, “Sure he didn’t have my consent… but it was bold of him to do that. That’s something I wouldn’t be able to do. It’s not like he hurt me, either.”

“So you’re not mad?” he sounded surprised.

“Not really. I just want to know his side of the story now,” you responded, “And I want to do something about the fact that he’s not playing the tournament. I remember how passionate he was about that and Sylva really isn’t being fair about that situation.” You tightened the left side of your lip and huffed.

“I think he wants you to know his point of view, too,” Mark snickered at himself, “How are you going to do that?”

“Easy…” you grinned, “Just some talking will do.”

You were released from the infirmary at lunch the following day, but you chose to skip the rest of the school day for the sake of it. There really was no use in attending the classes when you already missed half of it and you used this as an excuse not to face Donghyuck yet.

If you were being quite honest, the memories that you could recall from the two week time period caused your heart to pound a certain way. You didn’t know if it was just remains of the potion still lingering in your bloodstream, but you sort of liked the idea of liking Donghyuck. He wasn’t a bad guy. He was just living his life. Everyone needs someone like him in life.

You threw on your uniform and decided to lounge in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for classes to end to enact the plan. The tournament started later today, around 6pm, so you were really hoping that it would work.

The clock had struck 3 and you began to make your way down to the History of Magic classroom, otherwise known as Professor Sylva’s classroom. You really hoped that you would not run into Donghyuck for the element of surprise if this all did work. It was like a game of dodgeball as you made your way into the class.

Professor Sylva was sitting at her desk, doing paperwork as her glasses slid to the tip of her nose.

“Professor, may I please speak to you?”

She looked up and naturally over the frame of her glasses. She smiled, “One of my prized students, Y/N.” Sylva straightened her back as she gestured to one of the nearest desks for you to sit. You gladly took the one right in front of her, “I noticed you missed two classes and I hope you’re feeling better. Are you here for the work and content you’ve missed?”

“That and,” you crossed your legs, “I was hoping if you could let Donghyuck play that quidditch tournament.”

You watch as the muscles in her face contracted in ways you couldn’t even explain. It was obvious she hated Donghyuck for certain reasons, which indicated that this was going to be harder than you thought. “I simply cannot,” she replied kindly, “As you know, he cheated on that test and there is no way he is possibly going to be allowed to play sports after he’s done so.”

“All due respect with all I say… but do you have proof he cheated? Didn’t he have the highest mark on that exam?” you started arguing calmly. It was easy to support your side.

“I—” Caught. Easy. “No, I don’t have proof. I have no idea why you’re siding with this Slytherin boy, as you are a Gryffindor, but Donghyuck’s performance has been poor prior to the test. There is no chance he is able to improve in that small amount of time.”

“You have no proof he cheated, yet you claim he did. If he had the highest mark on the test, I don’t think it was possible for him to cheat and have a higher mark than that of the other students. That’s impossible,” you reason, “And having been with Donghyuck the entire week before the test, I witnessed the hard work he put into studying. He lost sleep and threatened to ruin his health just because of that exam, Professor. This is why I’m asking kindly to allow him to play.”

Professor Sylva eyed you carefully. She pulled out Donghyuck’s test answers and tests of the other high marks. You watched as her head moved back and forth between the sheets of papers. Her face began to fall in some sort of sheepish expression. “What is it, Professor?” A sly look made its way onto your face. You knew what was happening but you wanted her to you herself. 

“It seems like I have… made a mistake,” she mumbled, “Very well. I’ll let him know of this change as soon as possible.”

“You owe him an apology, as well,” you pushed on.

She looked at you and nodded once before standing up. You followed her.

Meanwhile, Donghyuck was walking alongside the team as they were relaxing before the first game of the tournament against Hufflepuff. Though he wasn’t playing, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to lift up the team’s spirit before they played since this was basically his role in the team.

Yeji, who was one of the beaters, was stretching her arms as she skipped near the front of the group. She was already trash talking some of the players of the Hufflepuff team. Normally Xiaojun would’ve stopped her, as this was a habit and not a good one, but he was growing as competitive as she would be during a normal game. He found it appropriate as this tournament was actually pretty big and it included some teams from other schools. It just so happened that they had to be versing a team from their own school first.

“It’s too bad you can’t play, Hyuck,” Yeji spun around and started to walk backwards, ponytail swinging along with her, “Your aim is unmatched. No offense you guys.” The other chasers didn’t take any offense to what Yeji had said. It was true that Donghyuck was one of the better players, which was why he cared so much about the tournament. He believed they had a chance to bring the trophy home.

Before anyone else was able to speak, Donghyuck’s name was being called from one of the halls, startling the whole group. They didn’t even need to look to see who it was to know who was calling him. The rest of the team started to power walk down the hall, a chorus of goodbyes fading as the distance grew between them.

Donghyuck muttered a few profanities under his breath as Professor Sylva, all poised and proper, made her way towards him.

“Professor Sylva,” he smirked, “Come to ruin my day more than you already have?”

Sylva held herself from responding back. Instead, she held a fake smile on her face as she shook her head, “No. Not at all, Mr. Lee. This is news you would want to hear.”

Donghyuck’s head tilted to the right, “Is that so?”

“Yes,” the professor gulped, “I would like to… apologize about last week’s dilemma. I should have never accused you of cheating.”

Where is this going? He thought.

“And because this is my mistake, I am allowing you to play the quidditch tournament.”

Jaw dropping, Donghyuck gasped briefly as he jumped up to hug the professor, “Thank you! So much! I promise I’ll continue to work hard.” When he realized what he had done, he stood back and bowed to apologize.

This time, a genuine smile slowly grew on Sylva’s face, “It is really no problem. I apologize again. But you shouldn’t be thanking me.”

“Huh?”

Professor Sylva stepped aside to reveal you standing directly behind her figure with a shy expression, “Miss Y/L/N was the one who told me how hard you worked and urged me to rethink my actions. I’ll see you around, Mr. Lee.” And with that, she turned and left, disappearing down one of the corridors.

“You really did that?” He felt the beat of his heart begin lose its steady pace. It was beating out of his chest and he couldn’t help but take a step forward in order to bring himself closer to you.

You nodded and brought a playful grin up onto your lips, “You should thank me.”

“T-thank you,” he sighed out. There was a long yet comfortable silence as you looked at him. He was unable to look straight at you, eyes planted at the empty space between his and your feet, “So… Mark told you everything?”

“He told what he could,” you crossed your arms behind your back, still eyeing him closely. You were unsure if he noticed that were doing so or not, “But I remember about ninety-nine percent of it. One percent of that, you need to fulfill.”

“I-I will. But first, I want to apologize,” he mumbled, “I was stupid for... everything. I really thought all of this wouldn’t lead up to other stuff.” He reached for his chest in hopes to calm his heart.

“There wasn’t any harm so I forgive you…” you replied quietly and teetered back and forth on your feet. Another long pause.

“What blank spaces do you want me to fill?” Donghyuck finally looked up at you, making a thin line with his lips, “I’ll tell you anything. It’s the least I can do after everything.”

You begin to walk and he trailed behind you. Stopping you stopped and turned to face him, “What this is about.” You pulled out the necklace from under your dress shirt and looked at it, “It’s beautiful by the way. And that’s speaking without the intoxication of the spell..”

When you laughed, Donghyuck wasn’t able to join you. Instead he gulped in nervousness, “You still have it on?” He really thought you’d taken it off by now, mad at him or not. It’s not like he had a special place in your heart.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” You smiled and then turned back to start walking.

“I just figured that…” then he stopped himself, “Nevermind.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ll push that aside for now.” You let him, he didn’t say he wouldn’t tell you.

“I…” he let out one huge huff of air, “Initially, I thought that using this spell would be fun. I thought it’d be amusing to have someone there that was wrapped around my finger. That I could order around or something. But then Mark and Renjun both told me how that was a terrible idea. Me being… me, I seriously ignored them until I saw how hard I was working you…

“Anyways, when I stopped treating you that way and just let everything just happen… that was when… all the fun and games sort of stopped…”

“Why?” Your voice lowered. It sounded like you had done something wrong. You see Donghyuck chew on his bottom lip, trying to find a way to express how he felt at the time.

“It’s nothing bad. It’s not like I liked bossing you around… It was just my own feelings just started to feel all weird. Especially when you–uh– kissed me on the cheek for the first time. I didn’t know how to handle that sort of emotion.” Donghyuck laughed a bit.

“I thought it was just the rush of feeling that made me feel things so I ignored it at first. Then the day you brought me to that classroom, everything felt too real and I almost forgot that you were under that damn spell. That was when I realized that my feelings weren’t leaving anytime soon…

“I believed that how I felt was temporary like the spell. I denied it at first, but it didn’t take me long to accept the fact that I like you… a lot… and I know it’s not just you being under a spell that made me feel things because I swear to you, my heart is going a hundred beats a minute right now just cause of you.”

He laughed a bit at himself before he straightened himself up, ”So that—” He points to the necklace, “—I gave you that because it wouldn’t dissolve or disappear after the potion’s time ran out. Like how Cinderella’s one shoe didn’t turn back after the clock struck midnight. It reminded them both of that one night. I guess to me that necklace reminded me of these last two breathtaking weeks.” He knew how cheesy he was sounding, but he never intended to actually explain why he got it for you. He simply believed that such a gesture was special. To him at least, “And on top of all that, it’s an apology present. I remember telling you it was to say sorry and to remember.

“The reason why I was surprised you still had it on was because I thought you’d be really mad at me after what I put you through,” he explained, “B-by the way, I completely understand if you didn’t return my feelings, I-I’m sure that they will disappear.” He fixed a sad smile on his face.

The sound of your shoes echoed quietly against the walls of the seemingly endless hallway. Unbeknownst to both of you, a warm feeling had started to engulf you both from the inside out.

“I sure hope they won’t disappear,” you replied softly. Donghyuck’s head spun to your direction. You took this as his reply, “You know those dreams that make you randomly catch feelings for someone totally unexpected?”

He nods.

“The past two weeks felt like one of those, but longer and more vivid and real,” you say.

“What are you saying?” There was no way he was jumping to conclusions. Not when his feelings could be played.

“You know this whole situation really didn’t help the fact that I already was fond of you before we even talked,” you tsked. You looked at Donghyuck, who still looked confused. He didn’t seem to catch what you were saying, even if you tried to make it clear.

“I’m saying that I like you back.”

“I swear, if you’re fooling me right now,” Donghyuck couldn’t even look at you. The warmth in his cheeks caused him to grow red and the corners of his mouth stretched his lips into a smile.

“Why would I be lying,” you say seriously, “I think I actually do really like you.”

“You think?” He smirked. You elbowed him slightly, laughing, “Shut it. I do.”

Donghyuck’s confidence resurfaced when he stopped to turn and face you, “Well in that case… want to go on a real date with me this weekend?”

You couldn’t help but just admire the boy under the sunlight. Hae.

“I would love that.”

Donghyuck beamed and opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Xiaojun at the mouth of the hallway, “Thirty ‘til the game! Aren’t you going to cheer us on?”

“Sylva is letting me play!” he yelled back, “I’ll explain later!”

Xiaojun’s face glowed at the news, “Then hurry and get geared up, Lee!”

“I’m coming, you can go ahead!” And with that Xiaojun nodded and left.

Donghyuck faced you again, “I-I have to go.”

“I can tell,” you laughed, “I’ll cheer you on, though.” Upon this statement, Donghyuck couldn’t help but feel even more giddy than he already was. After exchanging goodbyes, still in a shallow level of shyness, Donghyuck went to leave where Xiaojun had disappeared only a few moments before.

“Wait! Donghyuck,” you say hurriedly. He had made his way down the hallway in such a quick manner that he was already metres away from where you stood.

“Yeah?”

With tiny steps, you made your way towards him. In a swift manner, you brought yourself up to your toes and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“Good luck.”

If you made it to the end, I want to say thank you and I appreciate you soso much for reading this! If you enjoyed reading it please let me know or leave a like/reblog! 

[seokiloquy]

Lost In- What Word? Pt 1 - Akaashi Keiji

AU: Single Parent

Requested

Word Count: 4.5k+

Disclaimer: Fem! Reader, Time skip spoilers, Udai being a meta Furudate insert, just fluff

Pt 1 | Pt 2 | Pt 3

Akaashi wasn’t sure if Udai was naturally forgetful, or just held so much anticipation in his smaller form that he glossed over details and didn't realize it. Udai was an excellent author despite not having reached the major public yet. His first published work was short and eerie which most of the shonen reading population didn’t greedily rip off the shelves. Although, those that did read it gave him overwhelming support, maybe the rest of the world wasn’t ready for that kind of psychological horror just yet.

When Akaashi originally applied for a position at the publishing company he intended to work in the literature department, editing lengthy novels and picking out grammatical errors, not reading conversations via text bubbles and looking for continuity errors between images. He never did pick out the exact moment he went from editor to fact-checker and archivist. Akaashi also never knew how many different ways there were to translate a single word until he met you. And once he did, he realized that his eyes would follow you across the office as you ran around and spoke to other editors, helping them furnish their translations so that they flowed properly.

“Tenma, isn’t he meant to be out of the rotation for this panel?” Akaashi couldn’t help but grimace when faced with the utter despair that had pulled on Udai’s typically eased expression. The panel itself was masterfully drawn, taking up two pages and showing off Udai’s immense talent in drawing expressions and anatomy.

“I spent 8 hours on that, only to find out that it needs to be scrapped. What has my life come to?”

The yellow office lights made both of the men’s hair give off a green tinge and made their faces look sickly. Udai frowned as he pushed his chair back and let his chin sit on the table of the small meeting room. His hair curled around his fingers as they gently tugged on the ends of the wavy black stands, straightening them only to let them go and have them bounce back into place.

Akaashi flipped through the printed out pages of the chapter, letting the loose papers lay flat on the table. He pointed to the next pages. “These are fine though. They’re in the right rotation here, so not all is lost at least.”

Udai sighed, as he threw his weight back into the chair, making it spin with his momentum. “That’s all well and good, but I was really proud of that panel. It was going to be the attention grabber.”

Akaashi pursed his lips gently, flipping through the pages once more before tucking them into the pale yellow folder and closing it. Udai’s new story was in its beginning stages, only having a sample chapter that would be published in the following week’s magazine, that is if they got it done in time. 

“It needs to be perfect. I can’t have this not work and starve for the rest of my life.”

Akaashi opened his mouth slightly, taking in a deep breath, ready to spout out his words of encouragement for his colleague when there was a knock on the door followed by the soft creaking of the hinges as it opened.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I just wanted to ask Udai about some of the uh… what’s the word? Dang, I’m supposed to know Japanese, it’s my job. The— I give up. Help?”

Udai chuckled and waved you over to take the seat opposite him, you shook your head and bowed slightly as your hand raised, saying you were alright, not needing the chair. Leaning down slightly you pointed at the ruff sketch copy in your hand where your current author’s handwriting seemed to over the edges of the text bubble slightly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but how in the hell am I supposed to translate ‘paisen’?”

The innocent question seemed to brighten Udai’s mood much more than Akaashi’s monotone words of support would have. The older man launched backwards, nearly flinging himself off the chair, in a fit of laughter. His hands gripped the shirt he wore above his stomach and chest as they tried to ease the laughing pains.

Akaashi chuckled at the sight before looking at your somewhat regretful expression, you were probably too used to your co-workers laughing at your in-fluency at Japanese. “You can probably substitute a familiar nickname or a joking reference of respect.”

You sighed and brushed your hand over the back of your neck, “I swear, Himari had the intent to torture me with this last chapter. Thank you, Akaashi.”

Finally calmed from his fit of giggles, Udai sat straight in his chair and sent you a gracious smile. “Well, at least when you join our team I won’t torture you as much.”

You gave Udai and Akaashi a teasing smirk as you reached for the door handle. “I’m not so sure about that,” you said. “Besides, you need to get the attention of the readers before I join your team. No point in translating a comic that doesn’t even get off the ground right?”

You sent them a wink and the door closed behind you with a quiet click.

“Was that a challenge?”

“I believe so,” Akaashi said, handing Udai a blank sheet of paper. “Looks like we have some work to do.”

The office was, as it was the day before, and the day before that, calm. Udai sat in a small isolated office on his own with a naturally coloured lamp hanging over his hunched figure. The rest of his team, including Akaashi and now you as well, sat outside his door in a row of cubicles that led up to a large window that took up the entirety of the wall. In the corner cubicle, pressed against the window and directly across from him, you sat, typing away on your computer as you translated the Japanese text into Wild Words fonted English. 

“Akaashi, is the end of chapter ready to translate?” Your head peeked over the frosted cubicle wall, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips and the corner of your eyes pinching together. Akaashi’s gaze fluttered around.

“Ah, Ya the edits are done so you can finish translating it now.”

The smile you wore only seemed to grow, making Akaashi want to turn away and stare at the same time. The sun’s light contrasted with the dull rectangular lights in the office, making your skin glow. Your fingers tightened on the top of the glass and your shoulders rose to your ears, you narrowly missed knocking over an owl keychain that hung on his side of the wall.

“Perfect,” you said. “I’ll get them done now.”

The day continued like this, everyone working and occasionally calling out to each other through their cubed walls, possibly getting a twirling pen in the forehead followed by a meek apology (coming from you). Every time you spoke to someone you would rise out of your seat to make eye contact with them, refusing to continue speaking otherwise, and even though he wasn’t the person you always spoke to, each time your head began to poke out of your squared corner Akaashi couldn’t help but turn his attention your way, watching as the sun's light danced around you. It didn’t come to a surprise when, like every instance before, Akaashi looked up when you shot up from your seat. Only this time there was a frantic look plastered unevenly on your face, one that the warm light didn’t compliment.

“Please tell me my clock is wrong and that it’s not 4 pm.”

Chiyo leaned back in her chair, setting down her Cintiq’s pen and flipped the watch on her wrist so that the face faced her. “Yup, it’s actually 4:15.”

Akaashi was surprised to hear a not so work friendly English curse leave your lips as you rushed to save files on your computer while simultaneously packing your purse. You continued to swear as you ran out of your cubicle and toward the elevators with a quick “goodbye” being thrown over your shoulder. The office was quiet.

“Does that happen often?” Ena asked as he pulled off his glasses.

The group of artists and their editor sat in stunned silence for a few moments, minds racing over where the young translator had scurried off to. In their collaborative confusion, the team slowly went back to their respective jobs.

Himari came around the corner of the office, coffee in hand, as she chatted with her editor, who was nursing his own mug. The writer looked up for her conversation to see Udai’s team and gave them a polite nod. They were going to meekly return to their work when Himari paused her steps and looked at the empty plush chair that sat rotated and untucked in your cubicle.

“Oh, did (Y/N) leave?” to Akaashi’s surprise, Himari was not.

“Does she do that often?” he asked, setting down his pen on the counter of his desk.

Himari nodded, smiling, “Oh ya, sometimes she gets lucky and her friend can handle it but a lot of the time she has to run out of here by 3.” Akaashi’s brow furrowed slightly as Himari took a sip of her coffee before continuing waving her hand by her head, “Don’t worry too much about it though, she always comes in early to get her work done.”

Before they could question further, Himari was off with her editor sending them a knowing smile.

When the end of the workday rolled around, only 45 minutes after your quick departure, Akaashi found his eyes trailing back to his phone that sat at the corner of his desk on top of a stack of papers. Keeping watch on his phone, he swung his bag over his shoulder and shut off his computer. The device remained silent as the team began to pile out of their seats, toward the elevators and in a fit of contemplation, he reached for the phone.

Your response was quick and vague; Family thing, happens often. I’ll tell you later. See you tomorrow!

After the sample comic was released, Udai was thrown when he received an immense amount of interest for his characters and story, and he was even more excited when he received word from the magazine’s publishers that they wanted him to continue with the path he was on. The months building up to this moment were filled with constant plot revisions, reference excursions, and interviews until they came to a conclusive framework of the story, and continued introductions as new members were added to their original duo to make the workload less hefty. 

Today though was the day that the story’s first chapter would finally be released to the public. 

Akaashi tracked into the office, heading to the lounge to grab a coffee before coming up to his cubicle against the window and setting his bag down, immediately heading to the lounge. 8:40 in the morning, 20 minutes before the expected time of arrival, Akaashi, back at his desk, was just about to take a sip of coffee when a small snore overlapped the sound of the air conditioners, creating a dishonest harmony. 

On the other side of the frosted glass wall of the cubicle was you, head resting on the black mouse pad that had a small plush cushion for your wrist. Akaashi quickly rounded the desks, coming to our side to gently rouse you from your slumber before your co-workers arrived. He was to wake you up gently with a hand on your shoulder, that was the plan. The plan changed when he noticed the small picture frame on your desk, surrounded by various action figures and Funko pops.

With one hand on your shoulder and the other holding the fame, he studied the photo with a kind gaze. He was so enthralled with the image that he forgot that below his other hand, was you.

“He’s cute ain’t he?” you asked, startling the editor back to his current reality as you stretched, arching your back like a cat. Akaashi’s attention was brought back to the current situation as you reached out for another frame in the opposite corner of your desk. “His name is Naoko. Here, this photo is newer.”

The young boy in the new photo looked like you a lot, more so than the previous one where he was just an infant that carried more resemblance to a potato than a human. Akaashi, without taking his eyes off the pictures, pulled the chair out from under Ena’s desk and sat next to you. He didn’t say anything, deciding just to admire the photos he held and letting you decide whether or not he should have the pleasure of hearing a story.

You sighed and yawned, leaning over the armrest of your chair so you would see them too. “He’s six, really quiet. I moved here when I found out. Hardly even out of university, and I was already pregnant with some strangers kid,” you laughed, making Akaashi stare at your features for a moment, wanting to point out which ones could be found on the boy.

“Is he the reason you moved to Japan?” Akaashi was a little taken aback by your willingness to talk, but in hindsight, you didn’t seem like the person to keep secrets, often rattling with your co-workers about your interests. Thinking back, maybe he should have expected something like this, Himari seemed to have known after working with you for several years, happily dancing around the topic of your personal life with your new coworkers when your sudden departure was questioned.

You shrugged, “not entirely, but he sure was a good excuse. I had plans to move to Japan for years before I even got into university. When I found out, I was sort of… uh. English…. Fuck, I need a job. So I applied to be an intern here, moved in with a friend I met online and prepared to have a baby.” Your arms flew about as you talked.

“You act as though it was easy,” Akaashi laughed, placing the frames back onto the table.

You let out a happy chuckle and spun your chair to face Akaashi head-on, eyes not leaving his, “I wouldn’t say it was easy, per se, but I’m happy with how things turned out.” you yawned a bit, “I should also apologize for running out of the office early sometimes, I have to pick Naoko up from school so —”

“You don’t have to apologize for that.” The gentle smile he wore was contagious.

It was 8:50 when the rest of the team came in. Immediately catching sight of Ena, Akaashi pulled away from your side, rolling the chair back to its respective location. He heard a breathy laugh escape you as he scurried around the desks to return to his designated spot across from you, cardigan flailing about.

The rest of your team piled into their seats sending the two of you waves and morning greetings. Ena nearly dropped his ‘don’t talk to me till I’ve had my coffee’ mug as he tripped over his rubber slides just before reaching his desk next to yours.

Sending your friends a smile you quickly slid back into your cubicle to re-adjust the frames on your desk with a yawn. Akaashi gave you a nod when you looked up to his stiff, still standing, form. You made his heart feel much weaker than he’d like to admit and without saying another word, he picked up the forgotten mug filled with brown liquid and handed it over the glass, into your hands.

Naoko was much more reserved than Akaashi expected, definitely a contrast to your more hyper personality. He spent most of the day sitting in the corner behind your cubicle where a table was set up next to a row of cabinets. What the boy was doing, Akaashi wasn’t entirely sure, but there was a small tickle at that back of his brain that made him want to find out.

When you had come in that morning, the group was surprised to see the small boy trailing behind you, holding onto your hand tightly with the both of his. “PD day,” you said. Udai spent the first few minutes of the day gushing over the boy’s cheeks instead of working, only to end up being backtracked and having to cram into his lunch break. Akaashi would be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful for that though.

“What do you have there?” he asked, taking a seat next to the boy and setting down his lunch next to the younger’s bento box.

Naoko curled in on himself, bringing the phone (that was most definitely yours) to his chest. The boy’s knees had pulled up to his shoulders as his feet pushed on the edge of the chair. Akaashi sent the young boy a kind smile and waited. From the corner of his eye, he could see your chair turn around as you took in the sight of your son and co-worker. He watched as you began making large swinging motions with your arms. Akaashi tried not to laugh.

Whatever had been playing on the phone hadn’t been paused in the short time given to do so, making the familiar sound ring quietly around the two of them. 

Akaashi looked back your way for a moment, only to see you tilt your head up in a supporting nudge and turn back around.

“Are you watching a volleyball game?” he asked, rousing a more positive reaction from the boy.

Naoko’s shoulders lowered and he slowly placed the phone down between them. As Akaashi had concluded, a volleyball game played on the small screen. He put forward another question.

“Do you like to play?”

The six-year-old shrugged but nodded before scooting his chair in closer and reaching for his food. Akaashi mirrored him, slipping off his collared cardigan and pulling his lunch closer, still watching the game.

“I used to play volleyball.” This caught the boy’s attention, who turned his head to look at Akaashi, brows raised and lips pursed. “I was a setter.”

Naoko swallowed his food and for the first time, Akaashi got to hear him speak.

“I like playing setter too.”

His voice was rather meek and had a sort of authority to it, but the biggest thing he noticed made him stifle a laugh.

“Hey, (Y/N),” he called gently, making you spin your chair around in question. “Why is Naoko better at Japanese then you?”

“Hey! That’s mean!”

Naoko began to wiggle in his seat, desperately trying not to laugh at his mother’s, your, irritation. You shot a look at your son and gasped.

“Don’t you start laughing at me. I speak English better than you do.”

“You don’t need to speak English in Japan, mom.”

Kaashi continued to choke on his laugher as you pushed the palm of your hand into your forehead. “I’m being teased by my own son,” you cried quietly, turning your chair back around to face the unedited pages.

Naoko giggled and looked back Akaashi’s way. “Can you teach me?”

Akaashi didn’t see you still in your chair, listening.

“Of course I can.”

“Udai, seriously? You promised that you weren’t going to use weird industry term slang stuff on me.”

With a wide-eyed look and hair messily tied back, the man in question rotated his chair around childishly. “I never promised. I just said I'd go easier on you.” It was infuriating really. 

With a pitiful whine, you shook the rough script in your hand making an angry fluttering sound. “You’re so mean Tenma. You know that I have trouble with slang.”

Udai only laughed and waved you off, “It’s a good way to learn is it not?”

You rolled your eyes but relented, giving a wave and closing the door. Once at your seat Akaashi poked his head out, eyes visible over the top of his square-framed glasses.

“He did it again?”

“Ya,” you huffed. “I can’t blame him though. It’s just frustrating that I can’t remember what a lot of the words mean. I should buy a dictionary.” Akaashi watched as you turned your monitor on. “Oh, um, Naoko was asking about you the other day.”

“Really?”

Your hands came together behind your neck, pulling your head down bashfully. “Ya, he’s been wanting to show you how he’s doing and maybe get the chance to learn a bit from you.”

Akaashi gave you a kind smile, so small that it didn’t even crease his cheeks, and nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

Your cheeks warmed as you beamed up at him before turning your head down towards your computer screen. Akaashi took a second to appreciate how the cool light from the overcast sky made you look. It was silent in the office for a moment. Just a moment.

“Udai! Another one?!”

In theory, so long as you have space above your head, you can play volleyball anywhere. Your apartment wasn’t ‘anywhere’.

The three-bedroom living space was built as housing and not an Olympic arena, and after breaking one too many of your glasses playing around, it was made clear to you, Naoko, and your sport junky roommate, that volleyball shouldn’t be allowed in the house.

“You guys can go play volleyball with Akaashi at the park, no?” Yukie asked, grabbing an onigiri of the large plate on your kitchen counter and stuffing it in her face. You made a large dinner that day, only to have your friend eat most of it, instead of leaving leftovers for Naoko’s lunch. Not that he complained about it, you sure did though.

Taking Yukie’s words to heart, when the weekend rolled around and Naoko was becoming more anxious, you invited Akaashi to your neighbourhood park to play volleyball.

“Open your elbows a bit more, make a triangle with your hand, and when the ball comes just cushion it with your fingertips before sending it out, okay?”

Naoko nodded, staring at his hands that were being moved around by the older player. Akaashi’s form was kneeled by the boy’s side, his head nearly resting on the younger's shoulder as he tried to make sure he was in the right position.

“Alright,” he said, grabbing the smaller than average volleyball off of the grass. “I’m gonna toss this to you, do you think you can get it to hit my hand right up here?”

Naoko nodded again, eagerly waiting for the blue and yellow ball to come flying his way. You watched silently from the park bench as Naoko tried (and often failed) to get the ball to touch Akaashi’s hand accurately. 

“Almost there, you got this Naoko!” Akaashi encouraged.

Earnestly waiting to see the next move, you sat forward in your seat, watching as that ball made a tall arch towards Naoko’s waiting palms. As the ball made contact with his fingertips, he bent his elbows and wrists before shooting them out into a straight line, sending into the palm of Akaashi’s hand before dropping back onto the grassy field.

Your son, as most six-year-olds do when accomplishing something, shrieked. He shrieked very loudly before sprinting directly into Akaashi’s stomach to give him a (breath-stealing) hug. Akaashi coughed as he tried to get air back into his depleted lungs. From the side you giggled, watching as Naoko’s smile grew, head buried into Akaashi’s stomach.

It became standard, going out to the park during your off days. And this day, like the weekends that have come before, the routine of going to the park, ball in hand, continued. But after spending an hour or so watching the familiar movement of the yellow and blue ball fly through the air, Naoko interrupted the serene setting with a loud request.

“Mama! Mom! Can we go get onigiri?”

Looking up from resting your neck on the back of the bench to turn your gaze onto the energetic boy that was hopping around on the grass. “I’m okay with that, but you should probably ask Akaashi along. We don't want to leave him at the park do we?” you teased, picking up your bag and walking toward the two.

Naoko spun again to look at Akaashi, whose hands were now tucked into his jeans pockets. “Please!” he wailed. “Come with us! Please, please, please, please, please!”

Akaashi let out a hearty laugh. “Calm down, I’ll join you.” without saying another word, Akaashi offered his hand out, letting Naoko clutch it eagerly.

“Udai are you sure it’s okay to bring Naoko along? This is meant to be a work trip and I’d hate for him to dis… dic… get in the way,” you gave up at the end, sighing over your tripping words.

Udai gave Naoko, who had been clinging to Akaashi’s arm since all of you had met outside the city gymnasium, a pat on the head. “It’s alright. Besides, he’ll probably be a great resource.” 

You nodded and watched as Naoko rattled to Akaashi about his school team and new things they had been practicing. You pouted. Upon their arrival, Ena, Chiyo and the others immediately began teasing you for effectively losing your son’s favour, which didn’t make your whining any less audible. On top of that, the group of artists found your sullen look to be a perfect reference, taking their cameras out.

“Keiji,” you cried, following behind the rest of the group as they waltzed through the gym entrance along with the crowd. “You’ve stolen my son.”

Akaashi paused for a moment, taking in a calm breath before looking over his shoulder. “He’s your son, I can’t steal that from you.”

Naoko threw a large smile over his shoulder, making your dragging steps falter.

When did it change? The expression on his face. When did it become so happy? Did he not smile before?

You picked up your pace, brows furrowed as you watched your son chatter happily.

When did he start speaking so much? Since when did he have so much to say? Was it something new in his diet? Or maybe the new friends on his volleyball team?

You found your gaze shifting to the hand that held his. Without thinking about it too hard, you quickened your steps to come up to Naoko’s other side. Your heart pounded as you held your closest hand out for him to grab hold of. When he finally did, immediately looking forward to dragging the two adults with him, the smile you gave Akaashi was the largest he’s ever seen coming from you. 

You looked back at all of your interconnecting hands fondly.

When did he become another person’s son?

I tried going a bit of a different direction with this one in comparison to most Single Parent aus. I’ll admit it could have more meat to it, but oh well, things to improve on. 

Question:

Do you prefer weekly one-shots that are shorter in length (like we’re doing) or longer ones with bigger plots and inconsistent updates (Sort of like “Catch Me If You Can” and “Ready Aim FIre” but longer)? 

- Bacon

Posted: 31/07/2020

[justthehiddleswrites]

Should… | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Emma Masters) | Chapter 2 | … I Tell Him?

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Emma Masters

Summary: Five years ago, Emma Masters just landed her first big acting gig on a soap opera. While it is not much, it is an opportunity to grow. While out celebrating, she meets up with a fellow actor, Tom Hiddleston. While she doesn’t recognize any of his work, the two hit it off. Before they know, they are getting hot and heavy in the elevator up to Tom’s room. Like ships passing in the night, the two never manage to meet again.Now five years later, Emma is a heavy hitter in the prime time drama world and Tom is a Golden Globe winning movie star. Their paths cross again but things have changed. Will they do what they should or fall to their deepest desires?

This Chapter:  Emma never expected to run in Tom again, but yet here he is in the same restaurant, five years later. Will he spill the beans on that one night and what will become of the sparks between the two of them!

Warnings: smut, vaginal sex, fingering, drunk sex, oral sex, cheating, unhealthly relationships

-

“It is not that funny, Thomas,” Emma chuckled, digging her nails into Tom’s arm.

Tom took an empty seat at Emma’s table and Corrinne leaned in closer to Tom. Even though Corrinne worked as a publicist, she still swooned over celebrities—good-looking male celebrities. Tom fit that bill to a T. Tom squeezed your arm back.

“Well, maybe I exaggerate.”

“Come on you two, spill.” Corrinne urged on.

“I happened to be in New York when I partook of the hotel bar. Em and I ended up sharing a table.”

“I just won the part of on All My Heart and celebrated with a few drinks. Tom and I ended up talking for the rest of the night.”

Corrinne’s eyebrows arched up; she wanted more and Emma refused to cooperate.

“Although, she didn’t know who I was.” Tom added, giving Emma a playful punch in the shoulder. Emma blushed. Not her proudest moment.

“Emma! How did you not recognize him?” Corrinne said, aghast.

“I wasn’t into superhero movies five years ago! Sue me!”

Tom chuckled. “It was quite alright.”

“And?” Corrinne asked, wanting the rest of the story.

“And…” Tom continued, “we exchanged numbers with plans to meet again in three weeks when I returned to New York, but this one stood me up.”

Tom nudged Emma in the shoulder. Emma blushed. Thank God for Tom’s discretion. The gossip magazines would have a field day.

“I did not! We mutually cancelled!” Emma protested.

“Ah, no. I made plans, and you cancelled by text. Something about rehearsals. I assume someone got scared.”

Tom wiggled his eyebrows at Emma. Corrinne leaned back in her chair and looked at the two of them. Tom and Emma laughed at some unheard joke and Corrinne laughed along.

“But enough about the past,” Corrinne interjected, “What brings you to L.A., Tom? I thought you lived in London.”

“True. I am here for work.” Tom chattered on nervously, “I have some screen tests, auditions, and what not for an upcoming project.”

“I would assume a big movie star didn’t audition anymore.”

“Stories of my fame are exaggerated I am afraid. The auditions are for the leading lady in the project. You understand, Emma.”

Emma nodded.

“Yeah. I hate those chemistry tests. All those eyes on you.” Emma scrunched up her nose. She didn’t have Tom’s star power, so auditions took up a significant chunk of her time when she didn’t have filming.

“And what about Em? I thought you lived in New York?” Tom asked.

“Uh, I moved out here about two years ago. My series films out here.” Emma responded. She would never tell him but she followed his career and life in the papers over the years; she hoped Tom did the same, but his comment dashed her hopes.

“Oh, your series? Isn’t the show called something like Silver Surfer or Silver Fox?” Tom quipped, twisting his face into mock contemplation.

Tom lied. After that encounter in New York, he spent the following years keeping tabs on Emma’s career; the two Daytime Emmys for her role on All My Heart, Silver Sable, all of her accolades and successes.

“Silver Sable.”

“Right! And what kind of TV show is it? An action show of some sort?” Tom commented, relentless in getting the response he wanted.

“It’s a superhero show.” Emma muttered.

“I was under the impression you didn’t like superheroes?”

Corrinne chuckled at the banter. These two baited each other left and right.

“I’ve changed.” Emma snapped back, a smile on her face.

“So it seems.” Tom’s eyes raked over Emma’s body and she blushed once again.

Corrinne choked on her drink.

“But enough about me. What is—” Tom started before a gentleman tapped on his shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt. Tom, we need you back at our table.” he said.

Tom rose from the chair.

“So sorry, Luke. I will be right back.”

Emma sighed in relief. With Tom leaving, her secret remained safe. Tom started off back towards his table but he spun on his heel, pulling his phone from his coat pocket.

“Before I leave, Em.” Emma popped her head up to look at him, “I need your number, the old one doesn’t work.”

Emma didn’t expect him to still know her old number. When her fame rose and her personal number somehow made its way into her fans’ hands, she changed numbers.

“Of course, Tom!” Emma rattled off her personal cell as Tom punched the digits into his cell.

“Perfect.” Tom leaned down and placed a quick kiss on her cheek. His lips still soft like Emma remembered. “I will call and we must do lunch!”

Tom jogged off before Emma responded. After a few minutes, Corrinne cleared her throat. Emma turned and narrowed her eyes at her friend. “Spill it.”

“So… there is more to this. Care to share?”

“No comment.”

“Fair enough. So he seems nice.”

Emma blushed.

“And sexy as fuck.”

“Corrinne!” Emma spat.

“What? That man is sex in a suit. So when are you going to tell him?”

“When I’m ready.” Emma mumbled as she returned her attention to her salad.

-

Tom texted her once so she would have his number too, but Emma guessed she wouldn’t run into Tom again for some time. It wasn’t as though the two of them ran in the same circles. Their only professional link was their portrayal of Marvel characters. She hustled through the next few days in a bit of a fog. She never expected to run into him again. And she didn’t expect all those feelings and emotions to rear their ugly head.

“Earth, Emma!” Mary, her assistant, yelled.

Emma jolted in her seat.

“Ahh!” Emma waving her arms about catching herself before she fell on her face. “Yes, Mary.”

Mary suppressed a giggle.

“Okay. you have auditions all afternoon. The first one is in an hour and across town.”

Emma groaned. Some days she regretted living in Brentwood. She enjoyed the space and privacy but hated that it meant driving for hours in Los Angeles traffic. Emma, a native New Yorker, never developed the taste for sitting in traffic for hours to go 30 miles.

“Fine. I will leave in fifteen minutes.” Emma rose from her chair to go get ready. “And since I will be gone for the rest of the day forward the calls to your cell and take off around 3.”

Mary’s face lit up.

“Thanks, boss! Don’t forget the last audition is at 4 and a chemistry test, so bring a change of clothes.”

Emma took off to her bedroom and took a quick shower. Fixing her hair into a simple ponytail, she applied a light amount of makeup and dug through her closet. She settled on some simple jeans and a nice top and packed a body-conscious dress along with some heels and a small bag of makeup for her last audition. Twenty minutes later, Emma took off in her car.

As predicted, Emma sat in traffic for an inordinate amount of time and made it to the studio with no time to spare. The audition process still bothered Emma. Although Emma’s career was well established in television, her agent hoped to use her success as Silver Sable to push Emma into film roles. That meant auditioning. Six months in and no one took the bait. Perhaps she should stick to TV.

The first audition was for a period drama. Emma could smell the Oscar bait a mile away. Based on the reaction Emma got when she walked into the room, she did not fit the role at all. The whole ordeal took ten painful minutes. Emma repeated the process two more times with varying degrees of success.

Once she reached her final audition, she ducked into the bathroom to change. Emma already went through several auditions for the part in a new romantic comedy. Now she came in for a chemistry test, the part she hated. Chemistry tests made Emma feel like an object, not a person. But these types of auditions were the cost of doing business.

Emma shimmied out of her jeans and slipped into the dress. The neckline was lower than her usual outfits but whatever. She pulled her hair down from the ponytail, letting it fall around her shoulders and retouched her makeup and added some extra mascara and blush. Emma examined herself in the mirror.

“Here goes nothing,” she said to no one in particular.

Emma walked back out into the hallway and took a seat with three other actresses. They all looked about five years younger than Emma, with their boobs cinched up to their chin and hems flirting with indecent exposure. Emma grew disheartened. All these other girls looked like they stepped out of the pages of a magazine, Playboy to be specific. Emma’s aesthetic was more akin to In Style. She looked over the lines as they called one of the other girls into the room. She could feel the butterflies; no matter how many times she did this, Emma always got butterflies.

After about 15 minutes, they called her in. She straightened out her dress as she walked into the room.

“And you will be reading with our male lead…” the PA explained as Emma looked up from the lines to see Tom standing in the room.

“Tom Hiddleston.” Emma finished.

Tom smiled.

“In the flesh, Emma.” Tom extended his hand, Emma shook it in a daze.

What the fuck is happening? kept repeating in Emma’s head, a mantra. She took a few deep breaths. She realized the people in the room were still talking.

“… so I will be kissing you in this scene.” Tom’s voice punctured through Emma’s mental haze.

She nodded, and the scene began as they took their places.

“Do you mind?” Emma started as she pushed past Tom.

“Do you mind? This is my room and my bed. You are a guest.” Tom countered.

“Really, that’s not what you called me last night.” Emma smirked as she moved closer to Tom, his blue eyes glittering in the lights.

“Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. You’re not my type.”

“Oh, you mean dumb, blonde, and young. Then you would be right!”

“If there was any other choice here, I would gladly take it.” Tom moved in closer, his nostrils flared.

“Keep to your side of the bed tonight. Your snoring kept me up.” Emma huffed out the line, her breath puffing into Tom’s face.

“Touch me with your cold feet one more time and see what happens.” Tom sneered as he leaned into her space. The tension ran high.

“You and what army?!” Emma barked as Tom pulled her into a kiss. She pushed at his arms but he held firm. She relented and melted into the kiss. The memories of that night flooded back to her. They parted and turned to look at the six other people in the room. For once, everyone looked Emma and Tom rather than staring at their phones or drinking their coffee.

“Uh… We’ll be in touch.” one of the men said.

Tom shook her hand again, and she walked out of the room. Emma got about halfway down the hallway when a voice rang out.

“WAIT!”

Emma stopped and turned to see the PA from earlier.

“Wait. Can you come with me?”

Emma blinked but followed the petite girl to another room. This one was empty, save a couple chairs and a couch.

“Just wait here, please.” the assistant asked as she gestured towards the couch.

Emma plopped down and kicked her heels off. She pulled her phone and started replying to emails. Twenty minutes passed and then forty-five minutes. After an hour and fifteen minutes, the PA returned and took Emma back into the same room. She expected to see the same group of people as before, no one remained. Except for Tom.

“What’s going on?”

Tom looked at the floor, avoiding eye contact and pushing a nonexistent piece of lint with his shoe.

“I was hoping you would accompany me to dinner?”

“Is that why I have been sitting in a room for over an hour?”

Emma’s face turned red. Tom’s face fell.

“In part. The casting directors wanted to bring you for another reading after everyone else finished, but I insisted it wasn’t necessary.”

Emma’s eyes widened.

“Are you saying I got the part?”

Tom smiled.

“Unofficially, yes. But wait for your agent to give you the news in a few days. Try to act surprised.”

Emma squeed out loud and did a little dance. Without considering the situation, she jumped up and kissed Tom on the lips. He blushed at the sudden contact.

“Does that mean yes to dinner?”

Emma nodded, not realizing what she agreed to until they pulled up to the restaurant.

[ofwizardsandmen]

Unplanned

Gossip Witch AU (HP AU)

Characters: Tara Lee (OC),  Mark Yang (changed his last name for plot purposes)

Word count: 2,1k

Genre: fluff, a lot of fluff 

“Mark was eleven the day he decided he wanted Tara Lee to become his wife. It was one of those summer days when the two of them laid sprawled on the grass in the backyard of the Fawley Manor. They had spent the morning talking about Hogwarts and how Tara would write him letters every day and probably send him some of her favorite treats from Honeydukes if she ever got to follow Tyler to the weekend trips to Hogsmeade.”

—

Mark has known Tara for over two decades. Through the years he’s seen the good, the bad —not like there was much to see, except for the very few times Tara has allowed her free-spirited soul to cloud her judgment,— and basically everything in between. 

And yet, Mark can’t think of a time his girlfriend looked as angry, frustrated, and seemingly disgusted —all at once— as she does today.

All Tara says when she storms into Mark’s one piece apartment, looking beyond stressed, is that her brother has outdone himself this time. Whatever that means, that’s to say something considering Tyler Lee is one of the most stressful people Mark knows, if not the most stressful. However, over time Mark has learned not to even pretend to be surprised by any Tyler-related news simply because Tara’s brother seems to possess the staggering skill of outdoing himself every other day.

Judging by Tara’s expression, today is one of those days.

“There is no way I am going back there, Mark,” Tara announces gravely, shaking her head vehemently as her boyfriend wraps an arm around her supportively “I am never going back to that place. I’m moving out!” That last part she blurts it out of the blue, eyes ignited with a mixture of resolve and something Mark can only describe as murderous rage. it takes him a few seconds to process Tara’s words and realize she’s talking about the home she shares with her brother. 

“T, I get it, Tyler can be a real pain,” This Mark says it sincerely, his mind purposely trying to block the mental images that suddenly assault his memory ”But, think carefully, you can’t just move out. Where are you planning to go?” He asks, genuinely concerned about the possible options Tara might be contemplating… the Fawley Manor or Enzo’s apartment, for example. Or even worse, Arabella Black’s home.

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I can go stay with-“ Tara makes a pause as if trying to organize her thoughts “Enzo” she finally says, confirming Mark’s fears and causing him to bite the inside of his cheek. “Or Adela” she starts counting with her fingers “Leah, Adam, Florence…” Mark only closes his eyes, anticipating Tara to drop the name he dreads the most. “Ara. I’ll call her and ask if I can spend-”

“Babe” Mark steps in front of his girlfriend so they can look at each other face to face, his hands moving to her sides gently “why don’t you talk it out with Tyler first? Whatever happened between you two, and as much as it pains me to say this, but he might have some reason. Not to mention that he adores you and he’d-“

“He’s dating Daniel” Tara blurts, interrupting Mark’s increasingly heartfelt speech and causing him to frown at her, his upper lip slightly going up and creasing the tip of his nose. A look that Tara would’ve considered adorable, had not been for the images occupying her mind at the moment.

“Wait-“ Mark raises a hand, asking Tara not to add a word, his expression as childish as his increasingly mature features allow him to appear now that his 24th birthday is fast approaching “he is- what?”

“Dating, fucking, whatever it is, it’s disgusting, they were-“

“It’s ok, I don’t need the mental image” Mark interrupts, barely being able to conceal the panic in his voice.

“In the living room, Mark” Tara goes on anyhow, causing her boyfriend to wince and scrunch up his nose. “It’s gonna be like this every single day from now on. I can’t put up with that” She claims, allowing her legs to give up and flopping onto Mark’s pastel-colored couch. “Do you agree I have no other option than moving out?” She asks, eyes pleading as she looks up and finds Mark staring down at her with a misplaced expression.

Mark, the ever logical and overthinking soul he is, only presses his lips together and nods slowly before sitting down on the edge of the couch.

“I guess you have no other option,” he says, but it’s still painfully obvious how much he disagrees with her decision. However, Mark is never one to question Tara. He never has questioned Tara even though her decisions made no sense whatsoever or involved the two of them. Mark just doesn’t know how to. He had remained silent even that one time Tara chose to break up with him. “Unless-“

Tara’s eyebrows go up questioningly.

“Unless?”

“Maybe you can use one of those charms you use to soundproof my studio,” Mark suggests hopefully, the slightest bit of blush spreading on his cheeks.

“Mark, no amount of charms will be enough with those two” Tara says and he grimaces at that. “You are being really weird about this” his girlfriend adds, eyeing him as if he'd eventually start to show symptoms of a disease. “You’re ok?”

“Then move in with me” Mark blurts so out of the blue that his own words sound foreign when they come out of his mouth. It would be funny if Tara wasn’t staring at him, looking profusely confused.

“Mark, I can’t invade your personal space.” She reasons logically “I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but this apartment is not exactly fit for the two of us,” her eyes dart to the suitcases blocking the corridor and Mark’s guitar and the notebooks where he writes his music down, scattered all over the coffee table and the rug.

“Then let’s find a house,” Mark offers quite simply, not really knowing where the sudden eagerness is coming from.

Moving in together has always seemed the natural next step in their relationship. There’s no denying he’s thought about it a lot. Enough times for him to brainwash himself into believing he knows exactly how waking up next to Tara every morning would feel like and fantasize about getting to a cozy home where she waits for him every night and smothers him with kisses. However, the way Tara looks at him makes his conviction falter and his chest deflate.  

“Mark, I do appreciate the offer, but I don’t think you’re thinking things through,” Tara says her boyfriend’s name carefully and pronounces every word after slowly, almost as though she’s scared of offending him. “Moving in together is a very-“ She hesitates “It’s a huge step, I don’t think you’re aware of it just now”

“I am,” Mark says, finally gathering all the confidence he’s lacked to contradict Tara during those eleven years of relationship.

—

Mark was eleven the day he decided he wanted Tara Lee to become his wife. It was one of those summer days when the two of them laid sprawled on the grass in the backyard of the Fawley Manor. They had spent the morning talking about Hogwarts and how Tara would write him letters every day and probably send him some of her favorite treats from Honeydukes if she ever got to follow Tyler to the weekend trips to Hogsmeade.

“Why can’t you just keep attending school… hmmm… here?” He had asked. At age eleven and with his reduced knowledge of the magical world, Mark’s was a genuine question. Tara had looked at him as though he had asked why the sky was blue or if Earth was really round. The kind of question whose answer is evident, but requires a lot of complex words and scientific knowledge to explain.

“Because that’s how it works” Tara had settled for an answer that was as useless as it was genuine. “It’s just something I have to do” She had moved to a sitting position and looked down at Mark, her expression warm and confident “If I want to go to Oxford with you, I ought to go to Hogwarts first. I’ll be back before you notice” she had added, smiling so brightly and reassuringly that for a moment, the sun seemed to be paling in comparison. Even as a kid, that was Tara’s charm, her confidence and the way she always seemed to know how to offer consolation and calm Mark’s fears.

Back then, Mark dreamed about becoming an author of the likes of C.S. Lewis or Arthur Conan Doyle and he wouldn’t go a day without carefully planning every step that would take him to Cambridge or Oxford and would allow him to receive a Nobel by the time he turned 50.

“And then, I will write you a book about it” There was a moment’s worth of hesitation “For you, Markie”

Mark was just a kid, but even back then, he knew Tara really meant that.

—

“In fact…” Mark shallows and then clears his throat a bit too loudly for his cheeks not to tint again. He forces himself to push the childhood memories away and focus on the matter at hand “In fact, that’s something I’ve always thought, something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately” he confesses. “I know how unexpected all of this is and you might think I’m just rushing things because I don’t want you to move in with Ara and have that odious brother of her lurking around, but” Mark speaks so fast that Tara can barely follow along. “Wait, there’s something-” Mark suddenly shoots up and scurries to the other side of his apartment, opening drawers randomly until he seems to find what he’s looking for. He strides back to Tara without even minding the mess he’s left behind him as he shoves something that looks suspiciously like a jewelry box in his pockets.

“Mark, are you ok?” Tara glances at him, awkwardly standing a few steps away from her, and concern crosses her features “I had no idea you still felt that way about Darius, but if that’s a problem, I can always find a place for myself, you know, on my own” she ventures, her lower lip caught firmly between her teeth.

“No, no, no. It’s not about that” Mark shakes his head almost frantically before wiping his hands on the fabric of his jeans. If Tara didn’t know any better, she’d say he seems nervous. But then Mark seems to collect himself, takes a deep breath, and goes down on his knee.

“Mark, I don’t know what you’re doing” There’s panic in Tara’s voice when she attempts to stand up, but Mark’s hands are quick to grab her sides and hold her in place  “I don’t think you’re-“

“Shhhh, let me talk, please,” He asks, speaking over her, his voice deep and serious. “Listen T, it is evident by now, but you’re the love of my life.” Mark stops for a few seconds, feeling as though he’s not making a very good job at conveying what he wants to say. Tara has the good sense to remain silent because she expects there to be more. But the silence stretches, making the look of anticipation on her face to grow deeper. “You’re my best friend and I know it sounds silly, but I’ve always known I want to spend a lifetime with you, it’s always been you and I simply can’t imagine loving anyone the way I love you.” Tara’s face flushes at that, “I know we’re still young, and you might feel it’s too early, but we’ve been together for so long, there’s literally no other step in between. I want to protect you and love you and wake up next to you every morning. I want us to be a family.” Mark gulps quietly as he fishes in the pocket of his jeans, pulling a red leather box “So, Tara Lee, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Tara doesn’t reply immediately, she stares at the sparkling diamond inside the box with her eyes wide open and her thoughts all jumbled up inside her brain. She can’t quite grasp the situation yet, because it all happened so unexpectedly that it almost feels like her frenzied imagination is pulling a cruel prank on her. She blinks twice to make sure she’s not dreaming and then nods slowly, but Mark has already started to speak again, taking her silence for hesitation.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be immediate, we’ll need a house and you know Jane, so maybe it can be next year or the year after, I just want us to-“ he rambles.

“Yes, Mark. I will marry you” Tara says laughing as her hand slides under his chin. He seems positively confused for a second or two, until then Tara goes on “It doesn’t matter if it’s tomorrow or next year or the year after, I will still want to marry you, Mark Yang, because you’re the love of my life too.”

Mark looks like he can’t quite believe his ears, but as a wide smile starts to spread across his lips, matching Tara’s elated smile, he allows his insecurities to resurface in the form of a silly question “Wait, can you repeat that?”

Tara rolls eyes and fights the urge to chose a sarcastic reply. Instead, when she closes the gap between them and leans to press their lips together, she whispers “yes” against Mark’s lips.

Mark has known Tara for over two decades. And yet, he can’t think of a time she looked as beautiful and happy as she does right now.

...

[khhunniewriting]

The Others (14)

[ Mafia/Gang AU ]

“So it’s true...” Kylie smirked seeing you get out of Dok2′s car equally on edge as the day she was starring your pregnant form down. It had been many years but she knew it was you. 

“What are you doing here?” Dok2 made sure to approach Kylie and keep her from getting closer to you. His plan to confront Kylie after he had gathered some sort of leverage against her was of no use now.

It was nearly impossible for her to get past the gate but she was still Dok2′s wife. Even if she openly disgraced him with the birth of her daughter there were still many perks to being the official wife. She had connections with the other wives of other groups, some of which were close friends of hers. 

“I heard you had a guest.” Kylie’s heels allowed her to look over Dok2′s shoulder and meet eyes with you. “Hello Y/N.”

“Hello,” you greeted her showing composure and manner. You had no reason to be hostile towards her. Despite Joonkyung’s warnings, Kylie had shown you enough courtesy for you to do the same. The fact that you were once again in the wrong by associating with her husband also kept you from provoking her.

The gates opened a third time allowing Mr. Kwon to enter. Zene came out of the passenger's side to question why the driveway was so full. Usually, Mr. Kwon drove them up to the door allowing the young bosses to disembark before parking the vehicle in its proper spot. 

Leo did not wait, he got out when he saw you standing off to the side while Joonkyung and an unknown woman talked.

“Mom what-”

“You must be Leo.” Kylie interrupted making her way around Dok2 to get a closer look of you two.  Her fake smile dropped when she noted the stoic almost disinterested look on the teenager’s face. He was different from you who carried guilt. It would take more than words to put him in his place. 

Ji-hoon was just as shocked to see his mother had made it past the gates when his father had taken her status away. She was only his wife in name, she held no power after Jia was born. She shouldn’t be allowed into Illionaire or any of his father’s personal properties.

“What are you doing here mother?”

“I came to see you of course.”

Ji-hoon didn’t buy it for a second and neither did Dok2.

“After you didn’t visit me last week I started to worry.”

Now that she mentioned it Ji-hoon realized he had skipped his last visit to his mother’s house. It was just before finding out Leo was his brother. He even ignored her calls.

“I was busy...”

Kylie smirked, “I see... she got to you too.” Her eyes shot daggers at you as she unleashed her true character. “Ji-hoon don’t be a fool! This woman and her bastard are here to take what’s rightfully yours.”

“Kylie!” Dok2 warned her but she was beyond verbal warnings. Kylie was determined to establish herself and Ji-hoon above you and Leo.

“She seduced your father knowing he was a married man!”

Your eyes widened at the accusation. Although it wasn’t true you felt incredibly ashamed having your son present. Perhaps you didn’t seduce Joonkyung but you did secretly harbor feelings for him and a desire to keep him for yourself.

“I never-” You were cut off as Kylie slapped you. 

Leo made a move towards her but you held him back assuring him you were fine despite the reddening of your cheek.

Dok2, on the other hand, did not hold back. He pulled Kylie back, yanking her arm with no regard to the amount of strength he was using. “What do you think you are doing?!”

Kylie hissed but did not let up. “What I should have done long ago! I let her off last time thinking she would be smart enough to stay away but she hasn’t learned her place.” She tried to pull free from Dok2′s grip but he did not let go. “Even now you chose her over me. I am your wife!”

“Only on paper,” Joonkyung reminded her. 

“Because you didn’t even give me a chance! You never thought of me as a woman, only a means to expand your territory.”

Ji-hoon was stunned, speechless at the sight of his mother’s outcry. None of this was new information yet he felt pained by how emotionally she confronted his father. Not once had he seen her like this.

“You used me to get Ambition!” 

“I did,” Joonkyung callously admitted. “The same way you are using Ji-hoon to get Illionaire.” Had Ji-hoon never been aware of his origins this conversation would have caused him grief. However, he knew the truth. It was his policy to never hide things from his son. If he was to be the next leader he had to overcome pain and suffering. 

“So you do remember our deal? If you dare to undermine me and give that bastard of yours any-”

“Who are you to say what I can and can’t do?”

“Your wife! And as your wife, I can get rid of them both with a single command.”

“Are you that willing to lose your daughter?”

“Joonkyung-” you gasped hearing his threat. Certainly, a part of you was touched knowing he would do anything to protect your son but it didn’t sit well that he was, in turn, threatening an innocent child. 

“You-” Kylie held back at the threat of losing her daughter. She pulled herself free when his grip loosened calling the guards over. They had stood still at a distance unsure of what was going on and who it was that they should be looking out for.

Y/N was, by all means, the lady of the house in their eyes and by the boss’ command... but Kylie was his wife. She held rank over her.

Dok2 gave the command for them to escort Kylie off the property. 

“Let go of me!” Kylie made a scene as she refused to be handled by the guards. Instead, she walked on her own getting into her vehicle and proceeding to drive off in a huff of rage.

Joonkyung called over the head of the property’s security unsatisfied with the events of today. “Why was she allowed entrance?”

“She’s the boss’ wife so-”

“She is never allowed back here again.”

“Yes Boss.”

“I will discuss this further at a later time.” Right now Joonkyung was worried about you and Ji-hoon who was being consoled by you.

Ji-hoon was at a loss, not sure how he should feel. Even if she did come here looking for trouble- she was his mom. He gave an apologetic look to you and Leo.

“Sorry about that-”

“There’s no need to apologize,” you assured. “You have done nothing but show me kindness and respect despite my position. You helped my Leo before you even knew who he was and I’ll always be thankful for that.”

You understood his conflictions. 

You had many of your own.

In the time you had been living under the same roof you had talked with Ji-hoon a handful of times. Neither of you brought up his mother or changed the way you spoke to each other. Although you had been wanting to talk about this new arrangement with him it seemed better to leave it be.

Leo sighed releasing the pent up aggression from earlier.  “Ji-hoon let’s go,” Leo knew the only way he would be able to let this go was if he did something about the way they were both feeling.

Shocked Ji-hoon gave you a quick nod before following his younger brother. “Where are we going?”

It made it all the easier for Joonkyung to give his attention to you. His hand going to your cheek where moments ago Kylie had stricken you. 

“Are you okay?”

“As okay as I can be when I was just reminded of my place.” His treatment the last few days and his confession had moved you to the point where you were considering the same. “I love you too Joonkyung...”

Dok2 was speechless as he took in the sight of your trembling lips. There was something else you had to say and he had a feeling he wouldn’t like it.

“But I-” You went silent the moment his lips touched yours. 

“Don’t say anything else.”

“But it’s important.” You wanted to get this suffocating feeling off your chest. “I need to tell you the truth.”

\\\

Leo took Ji-hoon out back to the basketball court. Zene and Ash followed behind them with the latter going to retrieve a basketball from the storage shed for them.

“What are we doing here?” Ji-hoon wasn’t in the mood for a game. He was far too depressed by the events of the evening.

Leo received the ball from Ash and passed it to Ji-hoon.

“Why do you suddenly want to play? Shouldn’t you be checking on your mom.”

“She’ll be fine.” 

Ji-hoon sighed.

“I need to calm down,” Leo admitted. Even if he kept his composure there were a lot of things Leo wanted to say or do that he knew weren’t acceptable. “Your mother hit my mom. And if it weren’t for me none of this would have ever happened.”

“Leo I don’t think you are the-”

“I am.” Leo stole the ball from Ji-hoon’s hands and began dribbling it. “My mother told me she left when she found out she was pregnant with me.”

He ran off towards the basket and Ji-hoon followed watching as he took a shot from the free-throw line.

“That’s when it started.”

“What?”

“My mother’s suffering.” Leo knew all along that he was the root of your suffering. From the moment he was conceived there had been nothing but trouble for you. “She could have let me die but she fought to keep me alive. A few weeks before I was born she began coughing up blood. The doctors never knew what happened but there were toxins present in my mother’s blood that forced a miscarriage.”

Ji-hoon’s eyes widened.

“Thankfully I was well enough to be delivered that same day.”

Speechless the teenager contemplated what he could say when such heavy information was given to him. He would have never guessed Leo had such a harsh start in life. 

Leo retrieved the ball as it bounced out of the court. He came back to Ji-hoon offering the ball for him to shoot but stopped when he saw tears begin to roll down his cheeks. 

“Sh*t,” Ji-hoon cursed. “Guess both our lives are f*cked up.”

Leo shrugged, in general, if others knew his life story he guessed it would seem f*cked up, as Ji-hoon stated. But to him, life wasn’t so bad. He had you, a mother who loved and cared for him.

“Could be worse.”

Ji-hoon laughed wiping away the stray tears. “Why am I the only one like this?” That was one thing he admired about Leo, no matter the situation he was always cool. “Why is my little brother cooler than me?”

“Because sadly my older brother is a crybaby.”

Ji-hoon smiled, “Did you just call me your-”

“No.”

“Say it again.”

“No.”

“Pleaseeeeeee~”

\\\

“Moon Jia smile for Daddy.”

Jia only starred up at the man holding her bottle. His expectant stare having no effect on her.

“Boss-” one of his subordinates tried to cut in but was flat out ignored leaving him to carry the envelope that had just been delivered.

Seeing his boss being so engrossed in his paternal duties, Nochang took over. “I’ll take care of it,” he held his hand out asking the documents be given to him.

Giriboy walked into Swings' office only to see him cooing and rocking his infant daughter while Nochang sat on his desk. “I see the boss is busy again.”

Nochang nodded, “That woman suddenly came to leave her child here again.” No one at JM (Just Music) was particularly fond of Kylie. She was married to a rival boss yet came to their organization and gave orders as if she were their boss’ wife. 

“Don’t let him hear you.”

“He’s too engrossed in the child.”

Giriboy could see that. “I still think we should get the DNA test.”

“The boss has five children, what’s one more?” Nochang didn’t care for his boss’s personal life. He was free to do as he wished. He only cared about the organization’s work. If he neglected his duties further then he would intervene. “Besides this one can’t be bought off like the other five women.”

Giriboy knew of the payouts the group had given to the previous five women who approached their boss. Each one had wished to become the lady of the group, to marry Swings to gain his wealth and power. 

All of those women were average citizens. Kylie was the only one who came from their society. She was a dangerous woman who had managed to keep any other women from approaching him for the past fifteen years. She had successfully monopolized him now that she bore his daughter. 

“What will we do if she gets out of hand?”

“I hope you two aren’t talking about me,” Kylie appeared as if out of nowhere but neither of Swings’ associates was startled.

They had made their thoughts heard before.

“Speak of the devil and she shall appear,” Nochang nonchalantly responded as he continued to go over Swings’ paperwork. 

Giriboy snickered pulling up a seat across Nochang to help him out. 

“That’s enough you two,” Swings respected the opinions of his two high ranking associates. He knew they only had his best interests in mind but he was in love. Despite their warnings, he continued his relationship with the married woman, Lee Kylie.

“Honey,” Kylie cooed wrapping her arms around him from behind. Her head laid against his back as she smirked at the two men who consistently bad-mouthed her. She had Swings wrapped around her finger and they all knew it. “I had a horrible day...”

“What happened?”

“Dok2 is living with the other woman and that bastard son of theirs.”

“So our boss isn’t the only one sowing his wild oats,” Giriboy joked. It was hard to imagine someone as cold and proper as Dok2 having a mistress.

“I heard about him having another son a while back.” Nochang had overheard some chatter from H1ghr when he happened to cross them at a club. He had dismissed it since they were drunkenly rambling.

Swings knew the rules well. Right now Kylie held the power to dispose of them but at the risk of his own daughter becoming Dok2′s target. He held Jia a little tighter, she was his precious angel. After five sons, a daughter was welcomed with open arms. 

“What did you do?”

“Nothing yet,” Kylie sighed. “But I can’t just stand back and watch her take everything for herself. I tried to warn her but she didn’t listen.” 

“Lady Kylie I’m afraid the powder will not dissolve quick enough to-”

“I don’t care!” Kylie pushed the uniform into her subordinate’s hands. It had taken some time to find you but now that she did she planned to make sure this was the last time she ever saw you.

“But the effectiveness is lowered if it does not steep long enough.”

“I will stall her as much as I can, you just make sure to do your part and put the powder in her drink.” Kylie was eager to see her husband’s mistress up close.

“Yes.”

“If you fail I will personally kill you.”

“Yes, lady Kylie.”

“She was farther along than I imagined...” Kylie muttered to herself causing the others to question her but she brushed it off. “It’s just my luck that she also had a son.”

\\\

The next day you awoke startled when you found yourself naked in Joonkyung’s bed while he was fully clothed. You quickly remembered everything that led you to this moment causing your face to flush.

Last night you confessed your love and jealousy. You told Joonkyung how you really felt the day you found out he was going to be a father. How you envied Kylie for being able to give him something you thought you wouldn’t. Only to later find out you too were pregnant. 

He was upset that you decided for yourself that he would prefer his wife over you. He put to rest your jealousy by admitting that he had loved you since then although he didn’t realize it until you had left.

After so many years you were once again in his arms. It felt familiar being with him despite the years apart. However, you worried about what this meant for the future.

“Good morning,” Dok2 greeted you as your movements caused him to wake up. 

“Good morning,” you sheepishly pulled the covers up to your eyes wondering how you would get out of bed with his unforgiving gaze fixated on you. There was still so much to discuss. “Are you still upset?”

Joonkyung sighed, “Not anymore.” How could he still be upset when he had managed to finally obtain that which had slipped through his fingers? “But if you ever doubt me again I’ll have to lock you up until you realize the truth.”

He had laid awake most of the night, watching you sleep wondering why he couldn’t see this before. If he had paid closer attention back then things would have played out differently.

“From now on you will be the only Lady of Illionaire.”

“What about Kylie?”

“I will get rid of her.”

“How?”

“Let me worry about that.”

-end-

A/N: Leave your reactions in the inbox ^^ I love them all! Next the confrontation of AOMG and Illionaire.

[baekterflyeffect]

something unforgettable / two

a vacation trip to a small island shouldn’t have meant something more than a way to clear your head from the stress and busyness of the polluted city. it all changed when you met a surfer that was so keen and persuasive to each you how to surf. not only he was able to make you surf in a short amount of time, he also was able to let your heart be freed to the oceans for him to catch.

characters: byun baekhyun x you au(s): surfer!au, summer fling!au genre(s): romance, fluff, slight angst, slight slice of life. a/n: i love you @kamikoy​ i hope this made your day!

something unforgettable masterlist

You woke up with your phone buzzing on the nightstand, groggily, you took your phone to realize that someone had been calling you. Not bothering to check who was the person who called, you decided answered right away. Voice coming out really hoarse after a good night's sleep. 

“Hello?” You croaked, and your eyes shoot open when you heard the breathless chuckle from the other line. Realizing it was Baekhyun. 

“Good afternoon, sleeping beauty. How’s your sleep?” He sounded way too cheery early in the morning. You groaned and rolled over your bed, trying to blink away the sleepiness. 

“Why are you so loud in the morning?” 

“It’s 1pm, sweetheart. You slept like a log.”

At the realization of the time, you sit up abruptly. Ignoring the dizziness. “Oh god,” you muttered, ruffling up your hair slightly. 

“Yeah, wanna grab lunch.. or breakfast for you?” 

“Mm, I am hungry. Let me wash up and I’ll meet you… somewhere?”

“I’ll just pick you up, sweetheart. Meet you in thirty minutes.” 

Baekhyun hung up right away, not giving you any space to argue. You shake your head, smiling to yourself. Maybe today will be a great day, after all.

   True to his words, Baekhyun showed up thirty minutes later. You noticed his duffle bag slinging around his body, excuntianting his pecs. He was only wearing a white t-shirt, his watch adorning his left wrist like yesterday. You exchanged greetings with before he leads you to the restaurant you went with him the day before. 

“They serve a different menu before three pm, you should really try their brunch.” Baekhyun said as he took a seat, this time next to you. You didn’t question him; enjoying the way his body slightly pressed against yours as both of you go through the menu. He was so close to the point his breathe hit the shell of your ear directly. Yet you didn’t mind. 

“Do you have anything to do today?” He asked you once you’ve finished ordering, he was still resting his arm on your chair, but now he had put a respectable distance between both of you. Humming, you shook your head with a purse of your lips to answer his question. 

“Nope.” 

Baekhyun frowned, his head tilted to the side, “Did you come here without knowing what to do?” 

You were stunned at his question, ashamed that he had seen it through you. But he chuckled at that, patting your head as if you were a kid, “It’s fine. Don’t feel embarrassed, I’ll show you around?” He offered.

“You don’t have anything to do?” 

He smiled at your question, shaking his head. “Not really, I just usually surf and talk to people I am familiar with. How long are you going to be here, if I may ask?” 

“A month, or so. I am taking a long holiday.”

“Then, you must familiarize yourself with everyone who lived here!” Baekhyun excitedly say. You mirrored his excitement by bobbing your head and lips stretched into a small smile. 

Brunch.. or whatever it was went rather smoothly. Baekhyun is talkative enough for your shy personality that there are no awkwardness between you and him. You managed to learn a lot of things about him―mainly his passion for surfing, or the sea in general as he told stories about his visit to multiple different beaches. He also learned that you suck at swimming, having to drown when you were a kid, yet it doesn’t stop you from loving it as your family always bring you to the nearest beach for family day. 

   “Since we started the day late, should I teach you how to swim?” Baekhyun asked after you were done with eating. Now, the both of you are walking side by side in the beach, your sandals safely placed inside his duffle bag as he insists that the best way to enjoy the beach was to walk barefoot. Walking next to him made you realize that he was taller than you with how your head aligned with his broad shoulders. 

You purse your lips, not liking the idea of coming down to the water moreover to swim. Ever so observant, Baekhyun took a notice in your changed behavior. Looping his arm around your shoulder as he led you to one of the places he was able to settle his duffle bag. “I didn’t bring my swimsuit here, though.” You said, lips still pursed. 

“Your stay-in is close, you want to get that first?”

Contemplating his words, you shake your head―it was already four, you and him did take a long time in the restaurant earlier talking about mindless things. If you were to take your swimsuit, you would waste another thirty minutes and the sun will set in a blink of an eye. He understands that, yet it doesn’t stop him from taking off his t-shirt to reveal his bare skin to you. Baekhyun grinned cheekily at you as he dragged you towards she shore, letting the waves hitting your ankles. 

Baekhyun doesn’t bring his surfboard, making you wonder why he was so eager to get inside the water. It doesn’t take long for the answer to come without you questioning him as you watch his face morphs with a very excited expression as he left you to indulge himself with the waves hitting his skin. You froze in your spot, shamelessly staring at how wet he was when he emerged from the water. 

Though, what impressed you most was not his physical appearance, but it was how happy he looked in the sea. It gave you a feeling of excitement to see how he let the waves hit him, making your body moving unconsciously towards him. You don’t even notice how you have taken your sandals off as you let the waters hit your legs. Soon enough, you were standing behind him, waist deep inside the water.

“I thought you didn’t bring your swimsuit,” he teased you once he realized your presence, smiling widely as if he won a lottery. You shrugged him off, splashing water to his face with a giggle. The shrieked that escaped Baekhyun’s lips managed to make you laugh. He was definitely unhappy at the sudden attack, looping his arms around your waist to drag you further the water.

Baekhyun playfully drop you down enough for you to be covered in water from head to toe, you faintly hear his laughter when you surfaced. You don’t have enough time to be annoyed as you realized you are neck deep in the water and it terrified you. Gasping, you circled your arms around his neck for leverage, afraid to drown. 

A breathless chuckle left his lips as he steadied you by holding your sides, letting your feet placed on top of his. “I wouldn’t make you drown, sweetheart. It’s okay.” He whispered gently to your ears, holding your body close to him. And you trust him. 

“Look at the sun,” Baekhyun whispered, his head turning to where the sun is setting over the horizon. From this distance, the sun seemed very close to you; as if you are able to reach it. You extended your arm, acting as if you are able to reach for the sun. He does the same too, and you giggled at how silly the both of you might have looked in other’s eyes. 

“I wished I could see the sunset this upclose in the city.” You said absentmindedly, accompanied with a sigh. Baekhyun’s chest rumbled as he hummed to agree with you. 

“Yeah, the tall buildings did injustice to the sun. The sun should sue them for hiding it’s beauty.” Baekhyun joke. It let your mind wanders, was he living in the city too before he resided in this small island? You couldn’t help but to succumb to your curiosity. 

“Were you from the city?” 

He looked at you for a brief moment before he gave you a smile as he took your hand to guide you back to the shore, only after you both were nearing the sand that he answered, though vaguely. “You can say that.” Baekhyun said. You didn’t let yourself wander more at the thought of where he was from, maybe was not comfortable enough with you to let you know more of his life. 

You were grateful that your sandals are still laying on the spot where you had left it, taking it with you as you walk following Baekhyun to where his duffle bag were located. There are no more conversations exchanged until he offered you one of his dress shirt which you looked at it in confusion. 

“What?” You couldn’t help but to ask. 

Baekhyun smiled before he explained, “You’re drenched, I don’t want you to be sick. There’s a shower stall there,” said he as he tipped his chin to where it was located, “change there.” 

Your mouth formed into a shape of an ‘o’. Thanking him before you take the shirt and walk to where the stall is located. What you realized once you wore his dress shirt, was that it was big enough for it to literally be a dress shirt for you. The ends of it settled comfortably enough above your knees to cover you. The sleeves were too long, yet you didn’t bother to roll it up. It does feel slightly bit colder at night. It was slightly uncomfortable for you as you opted to use your damp undergarments, but you didn’t pay any minds as the scent of Baekhyun’s shirt filled your nose. Comfortable, soft, and reminding you a little bit of home. 

What you didn’t expect was the way Baekhyun’s cheeks tinted in pink once he saw you in his clothes, stuttering as he said that you look good in his shirt. You accepted his compliment with an abashed smile, happy to know that you still look fluttering despite wearing clothing that is not your size. 

Baekhyun told you that he couldn���t accompany you for dinner tonight as he had someone he’s going to meet, you didn’t want to admit, but a little part of you thought he was meeting a female friend for a dinner date. Jealousy was evident in your face even though you knew it was too soon to feel jealous about someone in Baekhyun’s life. He took a notice on your change of expression, clarifying right away that it is a business meeting that you shouldn’t be worried about. 

It was hard for you to part ways with him once he was standing in front of your stay-in room. Pursing your lips when he said he was going to contact you tomorrow. Baekhyun breathlessly chuckled at that, cooing at you softly. 

“Don’t pout, you make me want to kiss you.” 

At his words, your eyes widened. You could feel all the heat going right to your cheeks and you knew you probably look red. All rational thoughts flew off your mind when you shyly told him that he could kiss you. After all, you knew time have a limit in here and you want to make the most of it before you need to comeback to reality. 

Baekhyun cupped your cheek with his palm, using his thumb to gently stroke the highest point of your cheek. A soft smile stretched over his lips yet his eyes never leave yours. It was a wonder, most guys you knew would be eyeing your lips but he doesn’t. “Can I really kiss you?” He asked, sounding a tad bit breathless. You nodded your head as a consent, yet he was taking none of it. 

“Words, baby,” he said. You aren’t able to focus on the new pet name as you look directly into his eyes to notice that it was glinting with stars. It also brought warmth to your heart knowing he wanted to make sure that it’s okay to kiss you. 

You feel like you run out of breath when you verbally consented for him to kiss you, “Yes. Kiss me, Baekhyun.”

Then, his lips are pressed against yours. It started slow, lips molding against each other―letting you feel the softness of his lips. Then it turned into something more when he deepened the kiss, his head tilted to the side to gain more access by swiping his tongue on your lower lip. You indulged in it, standing on your tiptoes as your arms wrapped around his neck for a better angle. A smile formed on your lips when you felt he was smiling into the kiss, too. It was no longer butterflies in your stomach, it was a whole fireworks. 

Nobody ever kiss you so softly, so tenderly, with gentleness like Baekhyun did. You almost didn’t want him to pull away, but he does. Resting his forehead to yours, his lips parted as he gasped softly to catch his breath in which you mirrored his action. Baekhyun sighed, wrapping his toned arms around your waist―duffle bag left on the floor―to bring you into another passionate kiss. 

This time, you were the one who pulled away when you felt a clench in your lower stomach. He needs to meet someone, your consciousness reminded you. Noticing the slight pout on his lips when you take a glance at it, you giggled. Giving his lips series of pecks. “You have to go,” whispered you playfully, earning a whine and him pulling your body closer to his. 

“I really need to,” he pouted cutely at you, you assumed it was because he doesn’t want to let go. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” He questioned and you nod your head at him. 

“I promise to wake up early,” your words were followed by a chuckle from him, “bring me to somewhere nice tomorrow. Or no more kiss.”

He groaned playfully at your words. Bobbing his head. “Okay, I have somewhere nice to bring you.” 

“Then it’s a promise.” 

He gave you a long kiss then, bidding you a goodbye but not before he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. 

That night, you fell asleep with a smile on your face.

   Days passed eventfully with Baekhyun by your side. He was able to bring you to the best tourist spots that he claimed you wouldn’t feel fun if you go with the local tour guides. At first you didn’t agree with him, you told him he was being cocky. His claim came out right when you decided to try to tour without him when he was not available to accompany you. 

Despite him looking like he doesn’t have a job in the island―Baekhyun was definitely not always available. Sometimes you wondered what made him busy, but you didn’t let curiosity gets the best of you and ruined what you have with him. It was not like you and him were in a relationship, no, definitely far from being in one. Yet, the shared kisses and all the skinship he initiated let you believed that you both have something that were close enough to be described as being “together”. 

What you learned the most about him the entire time you hang out with him was how adamant and ambitious he was. His goal was to let you conquer your fears of the water by teaching you how to swim and surf. If people called you stubborn, he was far more stubborn than you are. It was endearing, you have to admit. 

Baekhyun was patience when he taught you how to float in the water, guiding your hands and legs to move smoothly and not to panic if you failed to float. Breathe in, breathe out, let the water know you and be friend with you, he once said when you panicked. At the end of the lesson―you didn’t need him to hold to your sides as you are able to float on your own. Like a puppy, he teased. 

He brought you to snorkel with him once you are comfortable enough being inside the water, it was something that you were really thankful for about his adamant personality; if it wasn’t for that, you are not able to see the beauty underwater. The sight of colorful corals and fishes brought joy to your life knowing that something so beautiful existed. Memories of him holding your hand as both of you swam with the fishes are etched into your memory. Something unforgettable. 

Another thing that was unforgettable for you was when he brought you to a cliff. It was too early in the morning when he knocked on your door; the sun wasn’t even up yet. You didn’t know, but he found it endearing how you were not able to function in your sleepy state, carrying you in his back as he was afraid you stumble onto something and hurt yourself with the way you barely open your eyes. 

Baekhyun made you sat down on one of the benches that leads you to wonder how could it be there, with your head resting on his broad shoulders you sobered up from your sleep the same time the sun is awake. The gentleness of its orange hues surfacing over the horizon was beautiful―but for you, it wouldn’t beat the way serene and pretty Baekhyun looked under the golden morning sun. 

Something unforgettable was when he leaned down to capture your lips into a kiss as the sun slowly made its way up. 

  You whined at him as you held onto his surfboard, he was standing next to you with a laughter that for once you wanted to wipe it off his face. Baekhyun was adamant, yes, and he was also ambitious. His current ambition was to make you suffer by learning how to surf. Proclaiming that you need to make the most out of your holiday to learn things you never expected to learn.

Today is the third day of you failing to balance yourself on the surfboard, embarrassing yourself in front of Baekhyun who had taught other people how to surf and them mastering the basic of it within a few days. You can’t even stand on the board without wanting to cry. 

“Come on, baby, you can do it!” He encouraged you as he helped you to sit on his surfboard, you look at him skeptically. Even though you are used with the ocean waves, you will never be able to be used of standing in a surfboard, trying to defy the waves. 

“I don’t think I can..” Whined you for the umpthenth time of the day, looking at him as you rest your palms on the board. He only gave you a laughter, pushing the board towards the waves. You shrieked when an abrupt wave of the water hits both of you and Baekhyun, making you stumble and detaching you away from the surfboard.

The laughter that escaped Baekhyun lips was worth it, though.

“Okay, let me demonstrate it for you, slowly.” Baekhyun said with a bright grin on his face, easily hauling himself to the surfboard to lay down on it. 

“First, you need to use your hands to paddle towards where the waves are,” he moved his hands back and forth in the water, “and once you are close enough to the upcoming wave…” 

It was like magic. 

Baekhyun didn’t continue his words - he was lost in the thrill of going through the waves. He slowly raised his body into a slight kneeling position, then once the waves are closer to him, he stood up on his board. Perfectly balanced. It would be a lie if you didn’t admit that he looked absolutely dashing as he went inside the middle of the wave. You didn’t know that you were holding your breath until you exhaled once he went through the waves smoothly. The scene of it was too mesmerizing for you to not have it recorder, promising yourself to record him later when you have your phone with you. 

You were too busy with your thoughts, not realizing that he was now next to you while resting his arms on his surfboard. There was a sense of familarity with the sight of the sun setting and him looking at you while he was being propped on his board. The difference only difference from before was, if back then his eyes hold only interest for you.. this time his eyes held something more than that. Something you were afraid to admit as affection. 

And it hits you. Two weeks have passed since you arrived to the island, since your first encounter with him. Yet, too many things happened between the both of you that made you realize in the weeks you are making yourself comfortable with the sea to let your fears go, you were also letting your heart out to the sea for him to catch. 

    There are times when you wanted to know more about Baekhyun and his life outside the island. While he knew most about your life in the city, he never let his slipped out his mouth. You don’t want to say it bothered you, but for a fact; it does. For you, it was only fair that you wanted to know more about someone that you trust your heart with for the past two weeks. But another part of you knew that it would cost more for him to open himself up for you once you leave. 

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you nuzzle your face closer to Baekhyun’s armpit. Both of you have been spending the nights together in the room of your stay-in, nothing too touchy happened. Only few shared kisses and lingering touches that made you want more. Baekhyun turned his head towards you, giving the crown of your head a kiss, a habit he developed. 

You didn’t want to worry him, deciding to turn around so your back faced him. He doesn’t ask, and you are grateful that he enveloped your body with his arm. Lifting your head up so it was resting on his bicep. His chest are now pressed against your back to bring you warmth that he could only give. You heard him whisper when he buried his face to your nape before planting a kiss there. His words are a sense of comfort you are seeking. An answer to your worries. 

“Sleep, baby. Time is not limitless when we are together.”

[mysterylover123]

BNHA Rewatch: Episode 34 “Gear up for Final Exams”

 mysterylover123

I always break this one out around Finals week.

Pictured: Deku and Kacchan in 10 years.  (Of course episode 34 opens with the Mineta bit).

Now to count down the Students in Class A from least to most smart:

20TH & 19TH: 

Kaminari is constantly frying his brain with his own quirk, and Mina is used to just kinda coasting on her quirk and athletic skills, so they’re both last.

18th

Aw poor Aoyama. Not exactly great at anything.

17th

I dunno why but I thought Sero would be higher.

16th

OMG Tooru is eating lunch with the Dekusquad! Is that where she falls? 

15th

Kirishima 15th, same # he placed in the 1st popularity poll oddly enough

14th

The biggest surprise of the bunch - introverted doesn’t =brilliant.

13th

I think I thought Ochaco would be higher on the list. She’s not dumb, per se, just middle of the road.

12th & 11th

I dunno i guess they’re supposed to be middle-of-the-road in everything.

10th

Congrats on the midway points Shoji!

9th

Why.

8th

Oji you do good. 

7th

Nice, Kyoka!

6th

Tsu did good too. I didn’t think she was dumb or anything, but she’s not geeky like Momo so it seems surprising. 

5th

The third smartest of the Big 3? Wow, Shoto. Always second best, aint’cha?

4th

My best boy is so smart and cute. 

3rd

The biggest surprise of the poll - at least, first time around. You assume Bakugo is dumb. He’s not.

2nd

Iida is Class rep, but still second in grades to...

1st

Best of the best! Momo Yaoyorozu I love you. 

Aw Shoto noticed she’s feeling down. Let the Todomomo/BKDK arc begin!

Ooh Uraraka looks really mad about Monoma being mean to Iida. (Or maybe it’s supposed to be Deku. I don’t care. Iichaco hc)

So if Monoma is Class 1B Bakugo, who is Kendo? Iida? Deku? Kirishima?

Kendo mentions an older classmate, and my HC is that it was Nejire. She hangs with Nejire in the Culture Fest Arc. I think they’re friends.

LOL This scene is like a rundown of all Bakugo’s most popular ships.

KACCHACO

Because Uraraka knows exactly what Bakugo is thinking.

TODOBAKU

Because Bakugo makes sure to challenge Todoroki too.

KIRIBAKU

Because Kiri talks about him like a spouse.

and of course, BAKUDEKU

PAY ATTENTION TO ME. (More in the corner)

“You’re getting worse than I thought” Gotta love that villain FauxShadowing. 

This is how y a do The Power of Friendship right, in my opinion.  

Now a rundown of my ships taking the exams/Studying!

Kamijiro!

Todomomo!

BKDK!  (Oh my god they’re the two halves of me taking a test)

Kirimina! 

We’re just missing Iidaraka

An approximation of my initial response to learning that the next arc would be about pairs of students fighting their teachers: YAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TODOMOMO VS AIZAWA?! I’M TOO BLESSED COULD IT POSSIBLY GET ANY BETTER

OH MY GOD

YES IT CAN

BAKUDEKU VS ALL MIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG BEST PREMISE EVER (Or so I thought at the time, not to know that it could be topped. That’s MHA, always topping itself). Can I also just say that the design of the Final Exam arc is brilliant. I noticed this a lot in comparing it with the PL Exam later on, but I personally think of it as Hori’s own License to Print Character Development, and I absolutely approve.

This is probably the arc that changed the most from adaptation in manga to anime - and although I adored this arc in the anime the first time I saw it, there are a few changes in it that I think are actually not for the better. That’s to say, they make for more entertaining television, but they also change the characters.

Firstly, changing it so the tests happen one after another, instead of simultaneously like the manga, means that the characters have different amounts of time to strategize ahead of time. This puts a certain light on the big character moments in the arc, particularly Momo, Shoto, Deku and Kacchan. 4 of the top 5 smartest kids in class, and they don’t even try and strategize beforehand? Made sense in the manga where they had no shot, but in the anime, not so much. 

Second, also, Uraraka isn’t really the type to do this, she’s too laid back and Type B, so the anime having her strategize with Deku...I guess it’s a way to throw in some ship tease, but other than that it does nothing for her character arc, or any of the other seemingly random characters they throw into the strategy room along with them. Basically, it’s anime filler, so I don’t really care about any of it except Deku’s observations, since those are from the manga (he observes the others after he and Kacchan pass).

For the record: Manga Order: Todoroki and Momo vs Aizawa, intercut with Midoriya and Bakugo vs All Might; Todomomo first, BKDK second. Deku then observes the other teams for a few chapters as they all pass, with Mineta being last. 

So Fight #1 in the anime: Kiri and Sato vs Cementoss. There’s this lady on Youtube who did these really great analyses of the first four fights of the FE arc (never got around to doing the rest) so I’ll put links to her (Excellent!) analyses of those four fights. LINK: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pUABh3SiaMs

I’ve noticed that Kirishima is often the first one thrown under the bus in school exercises. This, the Joint Training Arc, the training camp...maybe that’s where his insecurity issues stem from. And with a little tease of Tsuyu and Tokoyami vs Ectoplasm, we leave off.

So yeah, another episode I really enjoy. I gotta tell you guys, the Final Exam arc is definitely a favorite of mine. I actually like it even more in the manga than in the anime, for the reasons I’ve outlined above, but it’s still a blast and I was so happy to see it as the next arc. i wasn’t ready for a new villain-based arc yet, and the sheer premise of BKDK Vs All Might is so amazing, I’m hyped as hell just remembering Episode 37. Oh, speaking of...

BKDK CORNER

We focus in on Deku, contemplating his Great Destiny, as Mina and Kaminari talk about how complacent they are in their chances of success. Cue Kacchan, like an embodiment of Deku’s subconscious, telling them off.

I’ll stop the world and melt with you.

This line has a bunch of different translations, all basically meaning ‘I’ll beat you’. The Shippiest is the English Dub, where he says “I’ll show you how much better I am.” Which plays into his Notice Me Senpai hidden attitude towards Deku. I think it’s a mix of both “I want to beat you” and “I want to impress you”. Deku is quiet here. He’s very quiet about his feelings for Kacchan throughout all of Season 2, but he still quietly demonstrates the importance of that dynamic through his actions in the Sports Fest (inspired by Bakugo) and his Full Cowling (also inspired by Bakugo).

Aw they were already standing together.

I’ll talk more on the symbolism of BKDK fighting All Might in Episode 37, but oh man, this is the best. Like, THE BEST. I love this fight. To Sum: They both want to be All Might, each is half of the whole, and they both have to expel that perfect-imperfect image of him they have to make it. Also, I totally think Aizawa and All Might ship it. “I went with relationships” Yup. You sure did, Aizawa.

BEST GIRL OF THE EP: No new best girls this ep

RANKER: Final Exam Arc Fights

10: MINETA AND SERO  VS MIDNIGHT

This one is really dull because Midnight just doesn’t do very much to win the fight. You need the teacher putting up more of an effort!

9. URARAKA AND AOYAMA VS 13

They just...kinda fluked their way into winning.

8. SHOJI AND HAGAKURE VS SNIPE

Poor Snipe, There’s not a lot he can really do in this situation

7. KIRI AND SATO VS CEMENTOSS

Short and quick and to the point.

6. MINA AND KAMINARI VS NEZU

Poor dopes never stood a chance.

5. IIDA AND OJIRO VS POWER LOADER

Short but kinetic and exciting.

4. TSUYU AND TOKOYAMI VS ECTOPLASM

Some good strategy here and Tsuyu did really great.

3.  KODA AND JIROU VS PRESENT MIC

Jiro is underrated best girl. 

2. TODOROKI AND MOMO VS AIZAWA

A brilliant fight of strategy and character development.

1 BAKUGOU AND DEKU VS ALL MIGHT

How could it be anything else?

[kabhi-haath-pakad-k-tu-mera]

The Circle Of Life

Death doesn't seem so imposing when you know that you're dying—when you realised it a long time ago. Harry's journey as he deals with Cancer. Haphne. IWSC Final entry. Hogwarts JP.

————

Written for the International Wizarding Schools Championship.

Round: Finals!!!

Theme: Dittany, which means healing. The theme is shown here as Harry trying his best to recover from cancer.

Year: Year 7

School: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Prompts: Potions (object) [additional]

Emerald (colour) [additional]

St. Mungo's (setting) [main]

Special Rule and Link: The special rule here is used by Showing 'birth'.

Warnings: Cancer, Major character death, mentions of infertility.

A/N: In this fic, Harry and Daphne are 80, and their children 40-44 years of age. The three children Harry and Daphne have are called Sothis, Jacob, and Lily.

————

14th January 2060

8:35 p.m.

Diary,

Death doesn't seem so imposing when you know that you're dying—when you realised it a long time ago. It's funny, really. We know we're all dying but rarely does it ever truly sink in. But in my case, I've had the pleasure of having realised this way back at the age of seventeen. I hadn't thought I'd get out of the Forbidden Forest alive again, especially if I were meant to die in the end, and so I had submitted to my sentence. I was as surprised as anyone at my continued living, I assure you, and with the amount of downright stupid things I've done in my lifetime—fighting Voldemort some five different times, riding thestrals, wandering into acromantula nests, and then contemplating becoming an auror before Daphne talked me out of it—I've already outlived my expectations, so I don't think it bothers me too much that death has come to claim me now. 

Daphne and Hermione would both glare at me for saying that probably, and Sothis, Jacob, and Lily would frown. Acquiring blood cancer does not necessarily mean death, especially since it's a muggle disease, but at the age of 80, I have my doubts. Wizards might not be as affected by muggle ailments, but this is cancer. It's been nearly ten days since I've written to you, as you might have noticed, and that was because of the numerous tests they conducted and reconducted at St. Mungo's. I've had to quit teaching at Hogwarts because of this accursed illness. Those of my family who haven't had much exposure to the muggle world didn't realise just how serious cancer was, and they were rather unconcerned—it's a muggle disease, wizards always recover from muggle diseases—but Hermione knew exactly what it was, and how serious, and she passed this information to both Ron and Daphne—even when I begged her not to—who told others. So now, everyone is extra polite around me, and extra careful. I hate how everyone looks at me like I might shatter at any moment. Even Malfoy's started acting differently again, and it's just so frustrating!

I just want everyone to get back to normal.

Harry James Potter

————

8th February 2060

8:15 p.m.

Diary,

My health has gotten worse instead of better. Last week, I began coughing violently and realised that I was coughing blood. My body hurt. I also had a temperature and felt dizzy. Daphy took me to St. Mungo's as soon as she saw my pitiful state. I was kept there for a whole day while the healers ran tests and took samples. While the wizarding world doesn't use injections, their methods of extracting blood hurt just as much. The healers only let Daphy see me during around dinnertime after they thought me stable enough. Daphy was by my side the entire night after that, holding my hand, helping me eat, and then finally settling me down for the night. I hadn't seen her that tired in a long time, diary, and it was … unsettling. I wonder if I'm being too selfish in not really caring if this cursed disease takes me down. Daphne would be shattered. 

Hermione and Ron were there at the hospital before I woke up the next day, considerably late and still feeling pretty shitty. The two of them and Daphne were talking to a healer, and none of them had realised I was awake. I could only catch a few phrases of their conversation—flu, immune system, careful—but the grim expressions on their faces told me that whatever it was, it wasn't good. The healers sent me home with instructions to take some fifty odd potions every eight hours and to exercise regularly, but not so much that I overexert myself. 

I was too tired the next three days to pick up a pen to write, let alone go for a walk. But yesterday, after Daphy and I got back from the walk she had coaxed me into going for, we came home to a pleasant surprise in the form of Lily and Sebastian. Lily has always been big on surprises, but the one she gave us yesterday was the best surprise I have gotten in a long time. They're expecting their first child in July! After a number of failed tries, Lily and Sebastian had both given up on trying to have children, but that right there was proof that miracles do happen. Daphne was so happy, she had tears in her eyes. So did I. For a moment there, I think all of us present in the room were a little misty-eyed. It took a little effort to digest that bit of news, happy as it was because our sweet little witch had grown so old so fast. Wasn't it just yesterday that I had first held her in my arms? She was finally going to be a mother now! I am happy as can be, of course, but I wonder if I'll be able to live long enough to see my grandchild in this life. 

I really hope I do.

Harry James Potter

————

18th March 2060

8:00 p.m.

Diary,

I don't think I'd be able to stand a single more piteous look directed toward me, even if my situation is miserable. I feel tired all the time now, even though I've been taking all my potions on time and have done all the exercises that the healers had told me to do. My body still hurts sometimes, and I feel utterly useless. The healers in St. Mungo's still take samples of my blood to see if my condition is getting any better.

They don't say so to my face, but I'm only getting worse. It is clear by the looks they direct towards me, in how Ron and Hermione both always say goodbye to me at the end of the day as if it were their last goodbye, in how Daphne strokes my cheek at night when we’re both in bed and tells me to stay strong for her. I wish they'd just tell me, so I don't have to go through everything pretending to be blissfully unaware.

Sothis and Jacob came to see me today. I hadn't seen them since my birthday last year. Sothis lives in America now with his family and practices as a curse breaker while Jacob has been wandering around the world with Lorcan Lovegood. They were upset when they'd been told of my cancer, of course, but today I truly saw how much my sickness really affected my family. If I had been my old self, I would not have wanted them to see me like this, but times have changed. At least I'm not in St. Mungo's because I wasn't able to fight a common cold. 

I really do want to get better.

Harry James Potter

————

21st May 2060

8:40 p.m.

Diary,

Things have begun to look up for me now, and I feel I've gotten a little better for the past few weeks. I don't feel as tired anymore, and Daphy does not have to force me to get out of the house. Daphy could not be happier about this. I've begun working on a book to keep me occupied. This was Hermione's idea—to write a book on Defence Against the Dark Arts from my experience as a professor and what I learnt when I was still studying for it. That I have fought the supreme leader of the dark is an added bonus. I think the one single perk of being sick is that the children come to see me more often. The others came around too, recently—the Weasleys, Neville, Luna. It felt nice to see them all after so long, but it felt a little disconcerting that this might be the last time we saw each other. I suppose that was the reason they made the visit in the first place, to see me again while they still could. 

In other news, I am in the news again. The Daily Prophet found out about my illness somehow, and it was all anyone talked about for the last week. Daphy and Hermione both blew up over the staff of St. Mungo's because no one else would ever leak any information to the Prophet of all people. Astoria, who works there, is having the board conduct an entire investigation to find the gossip. 

Lily had her first contraction while she was here with us. It was a false alarm, the baby is due in the second week of August, but it felt strange and surreal. Everyone was excited though, Lily especially, even if she complained non-stop about her backache. Things are looking up, finally, and everyone, the healers included, think that I'm going to get better quite soon. 

I hope I do.

Harry James Potter

————

5th July 2060

8:40 p.m.

Diary,

While my health had been stable enough for the past two months and was inching towards recovery, it has now gotten worse again. The healers think that I've been exposed to an infection which my body is not able to fight off. The incessant pain, the omnipresent tiredness have both returned with assorted bottles of potions that taste like sewer water. 

I was kept at St. Mungo's for a week, and the healers were still reluctant to let me go home because apparently, my immune system has become so compromised that even the mildest of bacteria or virus could be the cause of my death. It wasn't until Hermione had reasoned with them that I was more likely to be exposed to pathogens—whatever those were—in a hospital than back home that they let me go. I've been told in no uncertain terms to take all my potions on time and to get plenty of rest. The worst part is that I am to avoid the outdoors completely, so no more walks or anything. Daphne looked defeated  yet determined.

When they thought I wasn't listening, they also told Daphne and Hermione to keep the visitors to a minimum, so people coming to see me is also out of the question now, although Lily did come here the other day, so I guess the kids are allowed. 

I had thought I was getting better, but now … they don't say it to my face, but their pitiful expressions make it clear that my days now are numbered. I hope I get to see my youngest grandchild before I die, though. They aren't here yet, but I love them already.

Harry James Potter

————

31st July 2060

8:45 p.m.

Diary,

It's my birthday today, but so much has changed since last year. I was teaching at Hogwarts happily. People weren't scared of sneezing around me. I was cancer free. But most importantly, I didn't have a new grandson who looked exactly like me. His eyes are the same emerald green as mine, and he has a small tuft of jet-black hair, although I really hope he has better luck with it than I have had. 

From what Daphy tells me, Lily had been visiting when her water broke. I don't know the exact details of what happened since I had been in St. Mungo's since the past week, but everyone panicked except Daphne, who had gone home for a while to shower and eat after leaving me in Hermione's care. She calmly called for a mediwitch from St. Mungo's and made preparations to transport Lily to the hospital for the delivery. 

The baby was two weeks early, but still very healthy. He had curious green eyes, and the memory of how he looked at me with interest when I first held him is still fresh in my mind. I did finally get to meet my grandchild—Lily's first child—and I couldn't possibly be happier. If I were to die now, after I've seen my grandchild, I'd die happy. My princess had finally started a family of her own, and the baby looks just like me. He's a tiny and beautiful baby, and I am so proud. Lily and Sebastian are both beaming. They named him after me and Sebastian's father—Harry Alex Grahams.

I love him.

Harry James Potter

————

Daphne closed the diary shut on the morning of August the 2nd with tears rolling down her eyes. She put it beside her on the padded carpet she was sitting on and drew her knees closer to her. Harry had to go, leave, just as Lily's first child was born, just as he had turned Eighty-One. It was painfully sad. Lily had cried through the last night, and it had taken Daphne all she had in her to not join her in it and to comfort her instead. She took in a deep breath. Harry was right, though. The child was beautiful and looked painfully like him. At least she knew that he had died painlessly in his sleep. Happy. Content. His suffering had ended, and he had had the joy of holding his grandson in his arms. He had been happy. That was all that mattered