mimiu3usoft

[mimiu3usoft]

Broken Glass| 9 ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴀ ꜰᴀɴ 💘

You were back on track, resuming your roles as their co-manager. After the past few weeks, Huntrix and the Saja boys had been in a full-blown showdown—each track, competing for attention, and the girls still making time to hunt demons at night who tried to steal innocent souls. While they often hunted together, you always went alone.

Today was one of the more peaceful days—a fan meet and greet event. You and Bobby stood at the front, facing a line of excited fans and your girls, the members of Huntrix.

You wore a sharp blazer over a fitted shirt, styled just like Bobby's taste. Your wide-leg jeans and sleek sneakers added a comfortable, trendy vibe. Around your neck hung your staff ID, displaying your name and photo—though the ID was clearly bedazzled with glitter stickers and a tiny cartoon doodle. Zoey's handiwork, no doubt.

"All right, team!" Bobby clapped his hands, his voice already peaking in energy. "I know it's been Saja, Saja, Saja! But today—it's gonna be Huntrix, Huntrix, Huntrix!"

"These fans actually slept on the sidewalk overnight!"

"Overnight?" you echoed, your expression shifting to concern. "Um, should we get water for them, Bobby?"

"I already did," he nodded quickly. "Staff's handling it now."

You sighed in relief. Once Bobby moved on to handle other logistics, you made your way to the girls' table with a soft smile. "Now that that's settled, do you girls want anything? Drinks? Snacks?"

"Oooh! OHHH! MEEEEEE! I want banana milk!" Zoey practically bounced in her seat with excitement. Mira smiled and nodded beside her.

"I'll go with whatever Zoey wants to."

You turned to Rumi, tilting your head slightly. "And you, Rumi?"

She blinked, as if just snapping back to reality—apparently unaware she'd been staring.

"U-Um, just water. Thank you..." she murmured, slightly flustered.

You paused, watching her for a second, then nodded. "Okay then. Be right back, girls."

Just as you were about to walk off, Zoey suddenly lunged forward over the table—nearly knocking over her poster—and grabbed your wrist.

"Come on, Yuna! Join us!"

Startled, you stumbled back as she tugged you toward the table. All three girls had their pens raised high in the air, like warriors rallying for a chant.

"Happy fans!" Zoey shouted.

"Happy Honmoon!" All of you four followed cheerfully.

Laughter followed. The girls giggled as you stood there, smiling so fondly at them—your heart swelling with pride. These girls had come so far, and every little moment like this reminded you why you stayed.

Then, with that same warm smile still lingering, you turned and walked off to fetch their drinks.

"What about you, Bobby?"

"Oh! Coffee please! Thank you!" 

______

The fan meeting had officially begun as you slipped behind the curtains to grab the drinks the girls requested. While walking past a group of staff chatting near the storage racks, you nearly dropped the bottles in your hands at what you overheard.

"Saja boys are also here!"

'They're what now?' you frowned, pausing mid-step. A jolt of surprise hit your chest—and oddly, so did a strange little hope. 'Is Mina here too?'

You exhaled through your nose sharply. How the hell did they even get in here in the first place? Then your gaze drifted toward the memory of the five sleeping bags lined up outside earlier. 'Don't tell me... those were theirs?' You deadpanned, gripping the drinks tightly as you made your way back.

But the moment you returned, your steps slowed.

The first thing you saw was the Huntrix girls sitting at the table—with the Saja boys beside them.

'Weren't they supposed to stay separate? 'Your gaze instinctively found Rumi, and there he was—Jinu—sitting very close to her, whispering something in her ear.

Your heart twisted.

"What's happening...?" you muttered to yourself.

Before the thought could settle, Bobby appeared beside you, holding out a coffee. You handed him his drink without looking.

"Rumi thought it'd be genius to have the Saja boys sit with them," Bobby said with a proud smile, completely oblivious to your face. "Honestly? She's a genius." A single dramatic tear slid down his cheek.

You, however, had stopped moving.

Your eyes were fixed on Rumi and Jinu—still whispering, still close.

Unconsciously, your grip on one of the bottles tightened. The plastic creaked ominously under the pressure of your fingers.

Bobby blinked and glanced at you. "Uh... Yuna? You okay?"

Snapping back to reality, you blinked down at the bottle now slightly dented in your hand. You cursed softly.

"Yeah—sorry. I'm okay. Totally okay," you muttered, though your brow was still tightly furrowed.

"I can give it to them if you want?" Bobby offered gently.

You shook your head, voice low. "No. It's fine. I got it."

With slow, steady steps, you walked toward the table.

Behind you, Bobby sighed and took a sip of his coffee. One of the nearby staff looked from him to your retreating figure.

"She's jealous, isn't she?"

"Yeah... yeah, she is."

______

As you approached the table, something on one of the fans' shirts caught your eye. Your steps faltered.

It was a printed image of Jinu and Rumi—side by side, surrounded by a giant heart. They even have a ship name now, "Rujinu"

Your frown deepened. 'Seriously?'

Still, Jinu and Rumi were chatting quietly, too close, too comfortable. You could almost feel the heat rising to your cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from frustration you tried to push down.

Without warning, you stepped in between them and placed Rumi's drink on the table with a loud thud.

The sudden sound made both of them jolt in their seats. Rumi flinched, her body going cold as she looked up. Your eyes met hers for a second—but only briefly—before narrowing at Jinu, who suddenly looked like he was about to break into a cold sweat.

The silence between the three of you was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Rumi gave a small, shaky laugh, forcing on a nervous smile. "Th-Thanks..."

You didn't answer. You simply scoffed and turned on your heel, rolling your eyes as you walked away to deliver the rest of the drinks.

It wasn't subtle. Rumi saw it, and her stomach dropped.

'I messed up...' she thought miserably.

Mira and Zoey, who witnessed the entire exchange, exchanged wide-eyed glances. Their silent expressions practically screamed, 'Did you just see that too?!'

Both nodded at the same time, then looked down quickly, pretending not to notice a thing as you reached them.

"Thank you!" Mira said sweetly.

"Banana milk~!" Zoey added cheerfully.

You didn't say much. Just a soft hum in response, trying to keep your expression calm, professional.

But inside, you were burning.

______

Rumi cursed under her breath, quickly scooting her chair away from Jinu.

"Don't you know what personal space is!?" she hissed, half-whispering, half-snapping at him.

Jinu blinked, startled by her sudden shift. "Wha—What did I do?" he muttered, still stunned from the loud drink slam earlier.

He dared a glance back toward you—only to find your eyes still locked onto him and Rumi like a predator sizing up its target. A chill ran down his spine.

"Why is she so angry...?" he mumbled, shrinking slightly in his seat, trying not to look too obvious.

The tension in the air was thick, pressing heavily between the three of you. And somehow, despite the dozens of fans chattering excitedly nearby, Jinu could only hear his own heartbeat—and the imaginary sound of you cracking your knuckles.

'She's different now... unlike last night,' Jinu thought, eyes fixed on you as you moved around the room. Last night, you had been calm—so calm. But now? You were glaring at him like he'd personally committed a crime.

Trying to cut through the tension, Jinu leaned a little closer to Rumi and whispered, "So... does she know about your patterns?"

Rumi groaned, visibly annoyed. "So what if she does? I have them, don't I?" she hissed through clenched teeth.

Jinu raised an eyebrow. "Then why haven't you told your other friends?"

"That's none of your business," she snapped, her frown deepening as she looked down at the fan poster in front of her—then noticed the drink bottle next to it.

Wait.

That wasn't water.

Her brows twitched slightly as she stared at the label—it was your favorite tea.

A glance at you confirmed her suspicion. You held a water bottle of your own... but it was slightly crumpled, as if it had been clenched in your fist.

Rumi's stomach dropped.

"...Now stop talking," Rumi muttered, finally lifting her head to glare at Jinu, her voice sharp and accusing. "You want me to talk about my patterns? I hate them! Just like I hate all demons. How I hate Gwi-ma!"

But the moment the words left her lips, her chest tightened. Her stomach dropped. It sounded hollow—even to her own ears.

"If hate could defeat Gwi-ma," Jinu said quietly, "I would've done it a long time ago."

He met her eyes, then looked down, voice low.

Rumi's expression softened for a moment—just a flicker—before she furrowed her brows again.

"So... that means you hate Mina?" he asked.

The name alone made her body go rigid. Her shoulders tensed visibly.

"She... she's different," Rumi muttered under her breath, fingers curling tightly around her pen.

Jinu gave a dry scoff. "You always say demons are the same. That they don't feel. That you hate them." He looked at her again, more directly this time. "But now you say she's different?" 

Rumi stayed silent, unsure how to respond.

"Miss Yuna!"

Both she and Jinu snapped their heads toward the source of the voice.

A little girl was running toward you, her tiny footsteps quick and excited. One of the staff tried to gently stop her, but you raised a hand to let her through.

Kneeling down, you offered a warm smile. "Hi, little one. Is there something you need?" you asked kindly.

"Um, Mommy said if I see you today, you'd sign this!" she said brightly, rummaging through her small, adorable bag. With both hands, she offered you a light stick and a rolled-up poster.

Your heart dropped.

'Oh dear.'

With teary eyes, you took the items delicately.

'I never imagined I'd see our lightstick again...'

As you unrolled the poster, your breath caught. It was a picture of you, Mina, and Ayana—back when everything was still whole. You quickly blinked back the tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

"Miss Yuna?" the little girl asked, tilting her head with concern. "Are you okay?"

You sniffled and gently rubbed your eyes, offering her your best smile. "Yes, dear. I'm fine."

You glanced around. "Where's your mommy?"

"Mommy's busy right now, but I came with my sister!" she said cheerfully, then her eyes lit up. "Oh! Can I take a picture with you? For Mommy!"

Your heart squeezed at her sweetness. "Oh, sure! Of course!" you said, beaming.

You watched the little girl bounce in excitement as she ran back toward the crowd, tugging on her sister's hand and eagerly explaining that you agreed to take a picture.

From the side, Rumi watched the scene unfold. Her chest tightened. That smile—the one you gave the child—it had been so long since she'd seen it. That real, wide, glowing smile on your face.

You gently lifted the little girl into your arms, holding the lightstick in one hand, and smiled brightly for the photo.

After the picture was taken, you carefully set her back down and signed the poster, handing it to the siblings with a soft, grateful smile. "Thank you, girls."

"Thank you, Miss Yuna!!" they chorused happily before skipping off into the crowd.

"YUNAA!!"

You flinched at the sudden shout, turning just in time to see more fans rushing toward you—some holding old Solstice merchandise in their hands.

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh no..." you whispered under your breath, nervously smiling as the crowd grew.

The staff and guards quickly stepped in, trying to control the excitement. "Please don't go past the line! Step back, please!" one of them repeated firmly but politely.

You stood frozen for a moment, a bit overwhelmed, then quickly bowed. "I-I'm so sorry! This is supposed to be Huntrix's fan event... I didn't mean to cause any disruption..." you said, backing away and bowing again as you tried to leave the area quietly.

"We love you, YunA!!!" "Please! Sign my chest!!" "I'm still a fan of SOLSTICE!!"

The voices echoed behind you, making your heart flutter and ache all at once. You didn't know whether to cry or laugh.

From the side, Bobby—watching it all unfold with a smirk—turned toward the manager and barked, "HEY!! No pushing!! Watch the line, people!!"

______

Huntrix and the Saja Boys looked over at the scene, completely taken aback. The echo of fans cheering your name still lingered in the air, even as the staff slowly regained control of the crowd.

 Rumi let out a soft scoff, a small laugh escaping her lips as she crossed her arms. The reaction caught Jinu's attention.

"I did tell her she still has fans," she muttered with a knowing smirk.

"Um... Rumi?" a shy voice called out.

Both Rumi and Jinu turned their heads. Standing in front of them was a teenage girl, nervously clutching four small paper bags, but wearing a sweet and hopeful smile.

"I was wondering... if you could give these gifts to Yuna—and maybe Mina too?" the girl asked politely.

Rumi blinked, surprised. "O-Oh! Sure! I mean... she'll definitely love these!" she said enthusiastically, her grin wide as the fan's eyes lit up with joy.

The girl continued, "I also brought something for you and Jinu, too."

At the mention of his name, Jinu stiffened slightly. "F-For me?" he asked, startled.

The girl nodded and gently handed each of them a bag.

Rumi's eyes widened as she examined the design—colorful, hand-decorated, and clearly made with love. Her name was written neatly on a tag, adorned with tiny sparkles. "Oh, this is so cute!" she beamed.

"Can I open it now?" she asked eagerly.

The girl nodded, "Yes, please!"

Rumi reached into the bag and gasped. "Oh my gosh! It's so pretty! And adorable!" She pulled out a tiny chibi figure of herself—complete with her signature pose and outfit—standing next to two smaller figures of Mira and Zoey.

Jinu quietly opened his own bag and was greeted by a miniature version of himself, crafted with impressive detail down to his earring and hair.

He blinked, unsure what to say. "...You made this?"

The girl nodded shyly. "I did. I made them all by hand. It's... kind of my hobby."

Jinu stared at the tiny version of himself for a second longer before quietly muttering, "...It's amazing."

Rumi grinned at the girl, her mood brightened. "Thank you. Really—this is seriously the sweetest thing ever."

The fan beamed. "I just... wanted to say thank you. To all of you. Your music and your story—it helped me through a lot."

Jinu and Rumi both fell silent for a moment, struck by the sincerity in the girl's voice.

"...I'll make sure Yuna and Mina get theirs," Rumi promised gently, holding the gifts close. "They'll love it."

The girl bowed slightly, "Thank you so much!" and then rushed back into the crowd, her heart probably racing just as fast as theirs.

Rumi glanced down at the remaining paper bag in her hands—the one labeled for you and Mina. For a moment, her expression softened, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

Then she looked over at Jinu.

He was still staring quietly at the tiny figure of himself, his brows slightly furrowed as if trying to make sense of it all.

Without saying a word, Rumi slid the small bag across the table toward him.

Jinu blinked, snapped out of his thoughts by the sudden movement. He looked up at her, confused.

Rumi met his eyes and shrugged casually, though her voice was quieter now. "Well... there should be a way to give this to Mina, right?"

She nodded at the gift. "You're the only one who knows her... so maybe you can give it to her."

Jinu hesitated, his hand hovering over the bag for a second. Then, gently, he took it. He didn't say anything right away, but his grip on the gift was careful—almost protective.

"...Yeah," he finally muttered. "I'll make sure she gets it."

_______________________· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·_____________________

Taglist: @doggyteam2028 @ulmban @ridewiththetide3@pandafuriosa60@nesrynsblog@sleepless-cloudy@minthoneynbasil@kisekiworker @tinysoap

Mina face reveal!

[mimiu3usoft]

Broken Glass| 8 ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀɪᴇꜱ & ꜰᴜʀ

After everything that happened that night, you hadn't left your house.

Not even once.

Rumi, Mira, and Zoey were worried sick. They kept checking in with Bobby, asking if you'd at least eaten something. Bobby tried to reassure them—"Yeah, they've been eating, I think"—but even he knew something was off.

He hadn't seen the bruises.

He didn't hear the silence.

So the trio decided to come by in person.

No response.

Just the dull quiet behind your door.

Rumi eventually gave up knocking. She sat down, her back resting gently against your bedroom door. A plastic bag rustled beside her as she set it on the floor—snacks, all your favorites.

"Hey," she called out softly. "Um... I brought snacks. The good kind."

She leaned in a little closer, her cheek nearly touching the door, straining to hear even the smallest sound from inside.

"Me and the girls... we're working on a new song," she murmured, trying to keep her voice light. "It's about demons and, you know... everything. It's kinda dramatic. You'd probably roll your eyes at it."

She gave a short, nervous laugh, then pulled her knees up to her chest, arms wrapping tightly around them. Her braids had been undone, and her long purple hair now spilled over her shoulders like a curtain.

"I miss you," she whispered.

A pause.

"But... take your time, okay? I know it must be hard. Especially since... Unnie is..."

Her voice trailed off.

Then—a quiet sniff.

She stilled.

Another sniff.

From the other side of the door.

Her eyes softened, lips trembling slightly. She glanced down—just as the tiniest sliver of movement caught her eye. A small gap beneath the door... and your fingertips, barely peeking through.

Rumi's heart ached.

She let out a breath, smiling through her misty eyes. Without hesitation, she reached forward and pressed her fingers gently to yours.

It wasn't much.

But it was enough.

"I'm here," she whispered. "Whenever you're ready."

______

You slip out of your room well past midnight, moving from rooftop to rooftop until you find a quiet ledge bathed in silver moon‑light—far from the city's noise. The cold night air bites at your cheeks as you sit and finally let yourself breathe.

The moon illuminates your silhouette, catching the tear‑tracks on your face and the redness of your nose. You open your phone—its glow the only other light up here—and press Play.

"HEY! No—NOH! Not the shoelace! Ugh! YUNA!"

On‑screen, Mina stumbles when her loosened shoelace tangles around her ankle. The past‑you giggles mischievously behind the camera before dashing away.

"It's my turn!" you crow in the video, your laughter echoing.

A pang of longing twists in your chest. If only you could rewind everything and fix what went wrong.

"YAAAH!"

Another familiar voice crackles from the speaker. You squint at the screen just as Ayana bursts into view—bleached, wavy white hair bouncing, the light blue tips catching the sun.

"Guys! We need to take a picture before our BIG performance!" she shouts, snagging Mina's sleeve and yours to stop the mock chase.

Mina's wolf‑cut hair is a windswept mess; your own long ponytail sticks to your sweat‑damp neck. You remember how light everything felt that day— just music and friendship.

"Okay, just fix yourself." Ayana laughed before fixing Mina's hair first, before going to your pouty face. Mina was sticking her tongue out. 

"Now, smile!" Ayana is in the middle, you on her right, and Mina on her left. 

"Ah- It's recording-" 

"Opps, I kinda recorded earlier, I didn't know it's still recording."

"Imma kick your ass Yuna."

You chuckled sadly before scrolling through your gallery. And found another video. 

______

The video played in the glow of your phone, the moonlight barely outshining the laughter echoing from the speaker.

Mina's face filled the screen first, grinning behind a pale green skincare mask. Her black hair framed her face, but her bangs—bleached white—gave her that bold contrast she always liked, and they were clipped. She held your phone at arm's length, her voice exaggerated in a fake reporter tone.

"Breaking news: Yuna's banana milk has been stolen," she said seriously, trying not to laugh.

The camera spun with a dramatic shake, revealing you on the other side of the room, mid-tantrum, pointing with betrayal in your eyes.

"I labeled it! Labeled it! In two languages!" you shouted, hands flailing.

"I thought it said 'drink me.' Like in Alice in Wonderland," Ayana chimed in somewhere off-camera, innocence feigned.

You gasped theatrically, placing a hand to your chest.

"Unbelievable."

The camera panned shakily to the corner—where Ayana sat cross-legged, hiding behind a couch cushion, unapologetically sipping your banana milk through a cartoon straw.

"Here we see the criminal in her natural habitat," Mina narrated, now in a documentary voice.

"I regret nothing," Ayana said with a sly smile.

Then you charged.

The screen jostled as you lunged with a pillow, Ayana squealing as she bolted across the living room. Mina cackled behind the phone, backing up to keep everything in frame.

"This is it! This is how betrayal looks, folks. This is how groups fall apar—ACK!"

Her words were cut off when a pillow flew at her face, knocking her mask halfway off and sticking it to the cushion like a casualty of war.

"That's for eating my chocolate cake!" you shouted.

"And my ice cream!" Ayana added from off-screen.

Mina dropped the phone onto the table, the camera now tilted—giving a chaotic view of the living room as you, Ayana, and the others dashed across it, full of energy, laughter, and love.

"GET BACK HERE!" Mina yelled, scrambling after you, the mask still clinging to her face as she armed herself with another pillow.

You smiled through your tears as the video played, your throat tight, heart heavy.

______

Lying on your back, you continued scrolling through old videos—each one a time capsule of what once was.

Solstice.

That was your band name. The three of you: Mina, Ayana, and you. You never argued when they named it. They were always full of ideas, and you were happy just to be part of their world.

You sighed softly, thumb hovering over the next video.

Then something unexpected played.

A clip you didn't even realize you still had.

Mina and Ayana appeared on screen, waving enthusiastically at the camera inside the recording studio. Mina was adjusting her bleached white bangs, the rest of her black hair tied messily. Ayana, with her bright smile and blue-tipped waves, posed dramatically beside her.

"We're gonna watch Yuna sing!" Ayana announced proudly, as if introducing a celebrity.

Behind them, through the glass of the booth, the producer sat at the control panel. He glanced up, startled by the camera, before offering a small, sheepish wave.

"Say hi!" Ayana chirped again, spinning the camera toward him before laughing.

Mina took over, carefully adjusting the angle as she turned the lens toward the recording booth window.

Your breath caught in your throat.

There you were—standing alone inside the booth, headphones on, shoulders slightly tense, lips quietly mouthing the lyrics in preparation. The large microphone stood before you, framed by wires and softly glowing monitors.

You looked so focused. So young.

"She's in the zone," Mina whispered from behind the camera, grinning.

"Superstar energy," Ayana added. 

You paused the video, the screen frozen on your younger self—eyes closed, ready to sing.

You stared for a moment longer, then closed the phone.

You couldn't bring yourself to listen. Not now.

How long has it been since you last sang...? You exhaled shakily, your voice barely a whisper. "Too long."

______

Your face was sore from crying, and your sleeves were damp from wiping tears you couldn't stop. With a tired sigh, you let your head fall back against the concrete. The night breeze brushed against your skin as you closed your eyes, just for a moment.

And then—

Purr.

You frowned.

A low rumble sounded beside you.

Before you could react, a huge, fluffy paw slammed down on your face.

"MMPHH—!" you yelped, muffled completely by soft fur.

Startled, you flailed under the unexpected fluff attack, squirming and pushing until you finally broke free. You sat up, gasping for air, your hair a mess, eyes wide.

"Oh my god!" a voice said between laughs. "I'm so sorry about that!"

The creature beside you purred loudly, utterly unbothered by the chaos it just caused. You looked over to see a large, round-eyed creature that looked... vaguely like a tiger—but not quite. Its fur was a soft, glowing blue with stripes that shimmered when it moved, and its oversized paws were as big as your face.

You squinted. "Did I almost die from a fluff suffocation?"

"I mean... kinda?" the voice said again.

You looked up.

Of course.

Standing beside the weird, creepy-cute beast was none other than Jinu, hands in his coat pockets, his ever-so-slightly smug smile dimmed by a hint of awkwardness.

You deadpanned. "Oh. It's you."

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice sharp with suspicion.

Jinu looked far too relaxed for someone wandering rooftops at this hour—layered in an oversized hoodie and an extra jacket, hands casually tucked into his pockets.

He lifted his hands in mock defense, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk. "Whoa, whoa. Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?"

You stood slowly, brushing dust from your sleeves, still watching him carefully.

Between you sat the massive, fluffy blue creature—some sort of tiger, though its glowing stripes and oddly large paws made it seem more dream than animal. It gave a low, content purr, blinking lazily with big eyes.

And then you noticed something else.

Perched on top of the tiger's head was a crow. Except... it had six eyes—three on each side of its head—and wore a tiny, perfectly balanced round hat like it was auditioning for a fantasy fashion show.

You blinked once. Then again.

"Huh. Didn't expect you to be the type to keep... pets," you muttered, still wary.

The crow gave a caw, the tiger yawned, its jaw wide enough to bite the moon in half.

You squinted at him, arms crossed. "That one almost killed me with fluff."

Jinu grinned. "Yeah. It does that."

You huffed quietly, but your shoulders lowered just slightly.

Still cautious. Still watching.

But maybe—just maybe—a little less alone.

"You haven't answered my question," you said flatly, your arms crossed as your frown deepened.

Jinu sighed, the weight of it more tired than dramatic. He casually stepped around the large tiger, and you instinctively moved the opposite direction to keep your distance, keeping him in your line of sight.

"I'm just... scrolling around," he said vaguely, hands in his pockets as he looked off at the horizon, as if that made his answer more believable.

You raised an eyebrow. "Scrolling around? What, like some demon on a late-night sightseeing tour?"

He gave you a look—one of those amused but slightly annoyed ones—but didn't answer.

Your gaze sharpened. "Scrolling around looking for humans to suck the souls out of?"

That got a reaction.

His jaw tensed just slightly, and the smirk faded from his lips, replaced by a quiet frown. He didn't respond right away, which only made the silence feel heavier.

You tilted your head, not backing down. "Yeah, see... I'm not sure I should trust you with that kind of excuse."

 Jinu let out a quiet huff, the kind that carried more amusement than judgment. He glanced down at his feet, then lifted his eyes to meet yours.

"So... what are you doing here?" he asked casually.

You turned your face slightly, your voice sharp. "It's none of your business."

He raised a brow, clearly unbothered. "Touchy."

"I could say the same to you. Rooftop stalker."

"I was just walking by," he replied innocently, stuffing his hands in his pockets, "until I saw someone having a personal drama fest with the moon."

You glared at him. "I was not—"

"You were crying while watching something or someone on your phone," he cut in, tilting his head. "It was kind of obvious."

Your frown deepened. "Do you always point out people's lowest moments like it's small talk?"

He blinked, then offered a small shrug. "Only when they pretend they're too tough to have them."

That shut you up for half a second.

You turned your gaze toward the skyline, lips pressed into a thin line. The silence stretched—but not uncomfortably.

"Fine," you muttered, arms crossed. "Maybe I was crying."

He looked at you, expression unreadable now. His voice dropped, quieter, more careful.

"...Was it about her?"

You didn't answer.

But your silence was loud enough.

He nodded slightly, the wind ruffling the edge of his hoodie. "Thought so."

There was a pause.

"I'm not really supposed to say anything," he said, voice low, hesitant. "But..." He trailed off, eyes lifting to the moon above you both. It's light painted the rooftop in pale silver, the night unusually still.

"She used to talk about you a lot," he finally said. "Said you were always smiling. Loud. Kind of chaotic. Like... too much energy bottled into one person."

You blinked. Slowly.

Your arms stayed crossed, but your shoulders softened.

He glanced back down at you, catching the change in your expression. Your gaze wasn't sharp anymore—it was softer, more focused. You were listening.

"She never said anything about this version of you," he added, waving vaguely at your slouched posture. "Grumpy. Broody. So emotionally nonchalant it's almost annoying."

A small breath escaped you—half a huff, maybe half a laugh.

"Shut up," you muttered.

You felt it again—that weight in your chest. The kind that presses too hard on your ribs, the kind grief carries in silence.

Just hearing him speak about what she said... about you.

But why?

Why would Mina talk to him about you?

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and glanced sideways at him, voice softer now, barely above a whisper.

"...Do you know why?"

Jinu blinked, eyes narrowing slightly. "Why what?"

"Why did she become a demon?"

That question—bare, honest, and aching—hung heavy between you.

He turned to face you fully now, his usual smirk fading just enough to see past it. For a moment, he didn't say anything, just studied you.

You could tell—you knew—that he saw how much you wanted the answer. How desperate you were for any piece of truth that might explain the betrayal. The change. The distance. The pain.

But instead of giving it to you, he let out a small breath and said with maddening calm:

"You should ask her that. Not me."

And then—he smiled.

That annoying, smug, unreadable smile that made you want to throw him off the rooftop and then ask questions.

You frowned, lips twitching into a pout. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," he echoed, clearly enjoying himself now.

"It's weird, how you're so calm about this," Jinu commented, his voice casual, raising a brow. 

You gave him a look. "Weird how?"

He gestured between the two of you with a lazy wave of his hand. "Weird that we're talking so normally. I mean... aren't you supposed to try and kill me or something?"

You shrugged. "I'll only attack when I have to."

"Oh? So no dramatic rooftop duel?"

"Only if you give me a reason," you replied, your tone cool. "If you endanger anyone here, I won't hesitate to stop you. That's a promise, not a threat."

He gave a low whistle, nodding slowly. "Intense. I like it."

Before you could roll your eyes, the massive tiger beside him padded forward, stepping closer to you.

You instinctively tensed, taking a step back. "Is it—?"

But the beast simply stopped at arm's length, tilted its oversized head... and nudged your hand gently.

You blinked, caught completely off guard.

Tentatively, you reached out and ran your fingers along its fur. Soft. Warmer than you expected. The tiger let out a satisfied purr, leaning into your touch like a giant housecat.

Your brows lifted. "Good lord... you're creepily adorable."

Jinu chuckled. "Told you. He has a soft spot for people who don't try to stab me right away."

"That's... a low bar."

"And yet," he said, smirking, "you passed."

You shook your head, lips twitching despite yourself. "You're lucky I don't believe in killing first and asking questions later."

He chuckled quietly, eyes fixed on you as you sat beside the massive tiger, gently running your fingers through its thick, striped fur. The beast purred contentedly, clearly enjoying the attention. Even more amusing to him was the way you hesitantly reached toward the strange six-eyed crow perched proudly on the tiger's head, your fingers pausing mid-air as the creature tilted its head to stare at you like a judgmental librarian.

You didn't pull away, though. In fact, you leaned in closer, curious despite your obvious unease.

Jinu leaned back, arms crossed loosely, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

'Everything she said was true', he thought, eyes softening. 'The way she acts tough, but she's gentle. Curious. Stubborn.'

'Literally a softie.'

The thought made him snort under his breath, a short, amused exhale that escaped before he could stop it.

You immediately turned your head, one brow raised suspiciously. "What are you laughing about?"

His grin widened, just a little. "Nothing."

You didn't seem convinced, but you let it go, gently patting the tiger's head again. The crow fluffed its feathers and let out a low, creaky caw, still watching you like it was silently judging your every move.

Jinu's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer. It's weird... he thought. 'How easy it is to just... talk to you like this. Sit with you. Even if I'm not supposed to.'

_______________________· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·_____________________

Taglist: @doggyteam2028 @ulmban @ridewiththetide3@pandafuriosa60@nesrynsblog@sleepless-cloudy@minthoneynbasil@kisekiworker @tinysoap

Note: finally a jinu moment ngl i dont know jinu's personality that much

[mimiu3usoft]

Broken Glass| 7 ᴘᴀᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ

After returning home, the girls quickly huddled together in the living room, whispering and giggling about something you couldn't quite catch. Whatever it was, they were clearly up to something, but you had no say in it. They moved as a unit, full of energy and secrecy, completely ignoring your attempts to figure out what was going on.

While you were in the kitchen, busy preparing dinner, you casually called out to them, asking if they wanted to help or at least eat with you. There was a pause—just a beat too long—before one of them called back, "Maybe later! We have something... very, very important to do!"

The way Zoey stretched the words made you stop for a moment. Something about their tone and the way they were all acting set off a quiet alarm in your head. You turned slightly, brow raised in suspicion, watching them from the corner of your eye as they scattered into a room and shut the door behind them. 

'Must be hunter stuff...' you wondered. 

______

"Wow, Yuna, I—I... you really didn't have to..." Bobby laughed softly as he sat at the table, watching you move around the kitchen, preparing dinner.

You shook your head, chuckling as you placed the dishes down. "Nonsense. You've been working non-stop lately, especially after... well, after everything that happened."

Walking over to the fridge, you grabbed a couple of drinks and a container of kimchi, setting everything down neatly on the table.

"And you've been working your ass off," you said, finally settling into the seat across from him. "I felt bad that I hadn't really done anything to help."

Bobby looked at you like he was on the verge of tearing up, his smile faltering just a little.

"Don't say that," he said gently, his voice low. "You've been working just as hard—helping the girls, keeping everyone together. I really mean it, Yuna... I'm thankful for you."

You smiled back at him, the warmth in his words lingering in the quiet space between you.

"Now stop looking at your phone and perhaps watch something on TV."

______

The first thing that popped up on the TV was a variety show featuring the Saja boys.

"Oh, it's the boys..." You muttered, watching them chug hot sauce alongside the show's over-the-top host.

Bobby cringed at the sight, wincing dramatically. "Oh dear, that's gonna give them serious heartburn."

"Totally," you said through a mouthful of food. "I mean, sure—it's for content and all, but they should at least give those boys some water."

Bobby side-eyed you. "Why are you even defending them? They're already taking over half of social media—"

"Shit, they are?" you choked a little, eyes wide. 'But that was, like, the first time they even performed—'

"Language," Bobby said, pointing at you with his chopsticks, but the grin on his face gave away the fact that he wasn't really scolding you.

"I always know there's something up with their 'innocent' maknae," you commented, noticing the guy you bumped into had won the challenge. 

"Wait—you guys met?" Bobby snapped his head toward you, still chewing his food.

You nodded casually. "Yeah, they perform at the plaza. Big crowd and everything. Those girls were there too."

Bobby immediately choked on his food, coughing hard enough to make you panic. You rushed to hand him a glass of water.

"Hey, breathe! You good?" you said, watching him gulp it down. 

He nodded, still catching his breath, eyes wide.

You sat back down with a sigh. "Don't worry. They told me they were just out buying some... tonics." You trailed off, your voice lowering as you added under your breath, "Which I know won't work on Rumi."

Letting out another sigh, you turned your eyes back to the screen, just as the Saja boys were wrapping up their segment. The host stood center stage, ready to close the show with a bright smile and a practiced farewell—until something unexpected happened.

"What is he up to...?" you muttered, narrowing your eyes.

Jinu suddenly snatched the mic from the host, flashing a mischievous grin. "Then why say goodbye... when we have some extra special guests joining us?" he said, voice dripping with excitement.

The crowd erupted in gasps and murmurs, everyone whispering and glancing around the set, trying to guess who the surprise could be.

"Please welcome—Huntrix!"

You and Bobby both choked on your food, coughing in sync as your eyes shot to the screen.

The camera quickly cut to the upper section of the venue—right where the girls were crouched behind a white wall, trying their best to stay out of sight.

But you could see it. You knew. Even if it was just for a second—you were sure they had their weapons with them. And worse, they were fully dressed in their hunter gear.

"What the hell...?" you whispered, a growing panic creeping into your chest. "What are they doing?!"

Bobby looked at you. You looked back at him. Without saying a word, you both exchanged the look. Work? You gave him a small, defeated nod. Yes. We work.

Both of you stood up from your seats, leaving the half-eaten food behind without a second thought.

"Oh gosh, we didn't even finish dinner..." you muttered under your breath.

Bobby chuckled as he headed toward the elevator. "It's fine. It was nice having a proper meal with you again, Yuna. Thanks for the food!"

You smiled faintly, already reaching for the plates. "I'll stay and clean up. You go ahead."

He paused for a moment, just long enough to give you a soft smile. "Okay then. Take care, alright?"

"You too."

As the elevator doors slid shut, sealing him away from view, you let out a long sigh and ran a hand through your hair, pushing your bangs back—only for them to fall right back into your face.

You glanced back at the TV just in time to see the girls making their entrance—sliding down a decorative slide.

The problem? Their leather suits.

A loud, awkward squeaking sound echoed through the venue as they slid down, slow and jerky.

You visibly cringed at the noise. "Oh no..."

The crowd groaned collectively, wincing at the unexpected sound, and even the Saja boys couldn't hide their discomfort, grimacing as they looked away.

You sighed, rubbing your temples.

"Let's just clean this mess up quickly, and then we'll talk," you muttered, a deep frown settling on your face as you started clearing the dishes.

______

You moved quickly, cleaning up what you could and deciding to leave the dishes for later.

There was no time.

In one swift motion, you suited up in your hunter gear, the familiarity of it grounding you. Without hesitation, you stepped out onto the balcony and leapt into the night.

The wind rushed past you as you landed on a nearby rooftop, eyes already scanning the direction of the broadcasted location.

Out of all places... why there?

You pressed your lips into a tight line, thoughts racing.

Is it because demons are lurking there?

It didn't add up—unless...

Could it be...?

Your heart sank at the thought.

If it is... then I'm sad it has to end this way.

You pushed forward, the weight in your chest heavier than your gear, unsure whether you were running to stop them—or say goodbye.

Until you felt it, 'The honmoon, it's getting weak.' 

______

"Woah! Mind the face—I need it to steal your fans," Jinu said with a smirk, just before hurling a wooden bucket at Rumi.

Without hesitation, she slashed it clean in half, splinters flying in all directions. But the moment she moved, Jinu was already there. She twisted to dodge his next attack—but not fast enough.

His claw grazed her right arm, cutting deep. She let out a sharp grunt, pain flashing across her face, but she didn't stop. Her grip tightened around her weapon as she pushed forward, ignoring the blood trailing down her sleeve.

She watched him closely now, reading every twitch, every shift in his stance. When he vanished from her view, she was already spinning, catching him mid-step as he tried to strike from behind.

With a burst of strength, she swung her blade toward him—aiming to end it.

But just as it neared his throat, Jinu caught it.

Both of Jinu's hands clamped down on the weapon—one gripping the handle, the other wrapped tightly around her fist. He was lucky. A single touch of the blade itself, and he would've turned to dust.

The blade hovered mere inches from his throat, the edge humming with lethal energy.

Rumi grunted, pushing with all her strength, but Jinu didn't budge. He was holding his ground just as fiercely. His laughter cut through the tension, light but mocking, as he glanced at the blade hovering near his throat—then back at her with a grin.

"You're strong," he said, his smirk.

But then, something shifted.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jinu caught sight of something—his expression faltered, eyebrows lifting in surprise.

His gaze dropped to her arm.

The shallow cut he had made earlier... he could see it more clearly now. The damaged leather had peeled back just enough to expose faint marks beneath.

His breath hitched.

Rumi's eyes followed his line of sight—and her heart skipped.

Her grip loosened ever so slightly as she caught sight of the torn leather and the unmistakable marks underneath. She froze.

Jinu took advantage of her hesitation.

With a sudden surge of strength, he shoved her back—hard. Rumi stumbled, barely catching her footing as she instinctively pulled her sleeve down, covering the glowing marks. Her breaths came fast and uneven, eyes wide as she stared at him.

She looked afraid.

Not of being hurt... but of being seen.

Of what he might do with what he now knew.

Jinu stood there, his eyes never leaving her, the tension between them thick and suffocating. His voice came low, almost in disbelief.

"A Hunter... who's part demon?"

The words hung in the air like a curse.

Rumi didn't answer. Her hand trembled slightly over her arm, and her mouth opened—but no sound came out. All she could do was stare at him, heart pounding, wondering if everything was about to fall apart.

Before Rumi could respond, the wall beside her exploded—shattered brick and debris flying as a demon was hurled straight through it, landing with a heavy thud.

Mira stepped through the dust and smoke, already drawing her blade again. "Rumi! We need you!"

Another voice followed, desperate and sharp. "Rumi!"

Rumi's chest tightened. Her breath caught as panic clawed its way up her throat. Her arm instinctively covered the marks again. The fear wasn't from the fight—it was from them seeing. From them knowing.

But then, something unexpected happened.

She felt warmth.

Arms—strong and steady—wrapped around her. Holding her.

She gasped, cheeks instantly flushing red when she realized who it was.

Jinu. The very man she was supposed to kill... was hugging her.

Her eyes widened in confusion—but then they shifted past his shoulder, and her heart stopped.

You were there. Fighting alongside the girls, helping them fend off the chaos.

Her breath hitched.

Everything happened fast.

Jinu shoved her aside before bolting out of the bathhouse, vanishing into the chaos.

"Rumi!" your voice cut through the noise, sharp and steady—snapping her out of her daze.

She gasped, reaching instinctively for the torn leather on her arm—only to find it wrapped in a towel.

Without missing a beat, she rushed to your side.

"Get to the girls—I'll follow them," you commanded, tone firm, eyes already scanning the battlefield.

Rumi swallowed hard, nerves twisting in her chest. This was the first time she'd ever fought demons with you—the one they all looked up to.

But she didn't question it.

She nodded. "Got it."

And then she ran, her blade steady in her hand, ready to face whatever came next.

______

As Rumi ran to regroup with the others, you surged past her, legs pumping hard as you chased after their leader.

You had one goal now—and he was getting away.

The air grew clearer as you escaped the thick, smoky heat of the bathhouse. Cold night air rushed against your face, cooling the sweat on your brow. Your boots hit the pavement hard as you rounded the corner—

And there he was.

Standing under the pale glow of a streetlamp, calm as ever, waiting.

"I didn't expect you to come alone," he said with a smirk, his breath visible in the chill.

You slowed your pace, eyes locked on him. "You should've known by now—I always work alone."

With every step you took forward, he stepped back, wary but amused.

"I didn't expect you and your members to be demons," you added, voice low but sharp.

He shrugged slightly, unfazed.

You let out a dry laugh, tilting your head. "A demon boy band. That's cute."

His smile faltered for just a second.

"But sadly," you said quietly, "I have to end this quickly."

Your grip tightened around the handle of your umbrella as it slowly shifted—metal sliding and clicking—until the blade fully revealed itself, gleaming under the cold light.

"It's a shame, really," you added, fingers sliding down to the hilt. "I actually enjoyed your show."

Your stance shifted—ready, balanced, poised to strike.

But Jinu didn't flinch.

Instead, he smirked.

"I don't think this is the end just yet... right?"

Your entire body froze.

That voice.

That voice wasn't his.

A chill ran down your spine as something sharp pressed against your back—light enough to barely break skin, but undeniable.

You didn't dare turn.

Your eyes flicked to Jinu, who simply stood there, arms crossed, watching it all unfold.

Not moving.

Not helping.

Just watching.

Your breath caught, heart pounding in your ears. Whoever was behind you—they were close. Too close. And they had waited until your focus was entirely on him.

A trap.

A whisper of cold air touched your cheek as the figure behind you leaned in.

Your grip loosened.

Every step she took forward shattered something inside you.

Your expression cracked—no longer the composed hunter, no longer the one in control. Your breath hitched as you lowered your gaze, eyes refusing to meet hers.

You can't.

You don't want to believe it.

You won't.

"Yuna," her voice called softly. "Look at me."

Your fingers slipped from the hilt of your sword, the blade falling with a hollow clatter to the ground.

Your body felt weightless—and yet so heavy. Your knees threatened to give in.

"No..." you whispered, almost choking on the word.

Your eyes locked on her hand—outstretched gently toward you, stained with marks. Those marks. The ones you were sworn to destroy.

Your vision blurred as your chest tightened, emotions rising too fast to contain.

'It can't be.'

You lifted your gaze slowly—your breath caught in your throat.

Standing in front of you was Mina.

Mina, with the same eyes. The same girl you once trusted, laughed with, maybe even—

With those marks etched into her skin.

The same ones you vowed to eliminate.

Your voice trembled, barely audible. "It can't be you..."

But there she was. 

"Like my new look?" Mina smirked, the edge of one of her twin swords tilting your chin up.

Your watery eyes met her golden, demonic ones. They shimmered with something unholy—something wrong—and yet...

Is it bad that it looks good on her? She would still love her. 

Your breath came out shallow and trembling. You had enough strength to lift your hands, but as you did, Mina pressed her blade a little firmer, a silent threat.

Still, it didn't stop you.

Your cold fingers closed gently around her wrist—the one holding the blade. She flinched at your touch, her smirk twitching ever so slightly.

"Why...?" you whispered, voice shaking. "What made you make a deal with him?"

She didn't answer.

She only stared into your pleading eyes in silence, the space between you heavy with all the words left unsaid.

"Mina, please... talk to me—"

Before you could finish, she shoved you hard.

You stumbled, nearly losing your balance.

Your heart jumped into your throat as you caught the flicker of movement—her blade swinging toward you.

Instinct. You summoned your sword just in time, the clash of steel ringing out through the night.

"Mina—!"

"So pathetic!" she snarled.

You flinched at the venom in her voice. It wasn't just rage. It was pain.

"You're always like this!" she shouted, her strikes wild and filled with fury. "Empathetic. Forgiving. Why?! Why can't you just hate?!"

Her blade screamed through the air as you blocked every blow, barely keeping up.

"Hate me!" she screamed. "When I hate you!"

Her final strike came down hard, nearly knocking you to your knees. You grunted, the force rattling through your arms as you barely held your ground.

"All your fault..." she hissed, her breath ragged. "It's your fault that I'm like this!" 

Your eyes widened.

"Please—let's talk—!"

"Yuna!" Rumi's voice rang out, panicked, followed by the pounding footsteps of Mira and Zoey behind her.

Your head snapped toward them.

That moment of distraction was all Mina needed.

She drove her foot into your stomach with a brutal kick, sending you flying back into a nearby wall. You hit it hard, the air knocked clean from your lungs as you collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain.

"Yuna!" Rumi gasped, sprinting to your side as you tried to push yourself up. "Don't—just rest, please!"

"Mina, please listen—!" you rasped, gripping your side, forcing yourself up despite Rumi's desperate voice.

"Yuna, stop! You're hurt—!" she cried, trying to hold you steady.

Across the way, Mina had already stepped back. She walked toward Jinu, who stood silently, arms crossed, watching everything unfold.

He frowned—not at the chaos, but at you. At her. At all the pieces breaking apart in front of him.

Mina stopped beside him, her expression cold and unreadable.

Her golden eyes met yours.

There was nothing left in her face... nothing familiar. But her eyes—those eyes told a different story. One filled with pain, and regret, buried deep behind the mask she wore.

"Let's go," she said quietly, turning her back on you all.

And with that, she vanished into smoke.

But Jinu saw it.

Just before she disappeared—a single tear had fallen down her cheek.

He didn't say a word. Just watched the spot where you knelt, clutching your ribs, surrounded by those who still cared for you. Then disappeared. 

_______________________· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·_____________________

Taglist: @doggyteam2028 @ulmban @ridewiththetide3@pandafuriosa60@nesrynsblog @sleepless-cloudy @minthoneynbasil @kisekiworker

Note: Mina's face reveal? digital or traditional HAHAHAHA

[mimiu3usoft]

Broken Glass| 6 ꜱᴏᴅᴀ ᴘᴏᴘ ✨

"You do know that Yuna is going to be furious about this, right?" Rumi said as she walked alongside Zoey and Mira, all three of them dressed in casual disguises. They moved cautiously, eyes scanning the crowd, just in case a fan might recognize them. So far, no one seemed suspicious.

Mira rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated groan. "Puh-lease. First of all, you've been saying that all day. And second—can you stop calling her your girl every five minutes? I swear, if you keep it up, she's going to pop out of nowhere or something."

Rumi's face turned bright red. She spun on her heel to face Mira, flustered and wide-eyed.

"M-Mira!" she gasped, scandalized. 

"We aren't like that!! We're just friends!" Rumi exclaimed, flustered.

"Hmm... the tension around you says otherwise," Mira teased, leaning in with a sly smirk.

Rumi looked away with a small frown, but the growing red hue on her cheeks betrayed her. Mira raised a brow and grinned wider.

"I'm just saying the truth. Your face is giving you away—and I'm just here collecting answers."

Zoey chuckled beside them, clearly enjoying the exchange. "Sooo true," she giggled.

With a dramatic groan, Rumi yanked on the strings of her hoodie, tightening it until only a small portion of her red face was visible.

"Okay! He's got this special tonic. Apparently, it can heal anything—from sore throats to relationship problems," Zoey explained, eyes focused on her phone as she walked.

"Why are there so many people out today?" Mira asked, glancing around at the crowded street.

"Oh! Down that alleyway." Zoey pointed ahead to where they were supposed to go and led the girls into a narrow alley.

______

Just as they were about to go inside, you were standing at one of the food stands in the middle of the road. You wore a tank top and a jacket that had slipped off one shoulder, paired with ripped jeans. Your hair was styled in big bubble braids. 

You looked at the food around you, the scent of grilled spices and fresh broth lingering in the air. For a moment, your thoughts wandered to Bobby. He'd been working nonstop—running on caffeine and adrenaline. Maybe he'd smile for once if you brought something back. He deserved a moment of peace.

But something felt... off.

As you moved through the crowd, you started to notice it—people, one after another, holding slips of yellow paper. Their faces unreadable, too still. Their eyes oddly fixated.

'An advertisement?' you wondered, unease curling in your chest.

You turned, distracted, and accidentally collided with someone. "O-oh, sorry!" you said, startled.

Papers fluttered to the ground like falling leaves.

"It's okay," came the soft reply. Calm. Too calm.

You both knelt at the same time, hands brushing over the yellow sheets.

And then you saw the name printed in bold across the top.

"Saja Boys?"

You stood up with the papers still in your hands, brushing off your knees. Your eyes lowered to the person in front of you.

Platform shoes. Ripped jeans. Your gaze moved up slowly, taking in the pink knitted jacket he wore—unexpected but somehow stylish.

Finally, your eyes met his face.

'Baby face—'

The thought popped into your head instantly. His features were soft and young, almost boyish. 

'He's definitely a rapper.' You blinked, snapping back to reality. "Sorry, here's your paper." You handed the flyers back to him. He seemed to come back to his senses, too, reaching out to take them—until your fingers brushed against his.

"I-It's okay," he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

You blinked again, now noticing the deep tone of his voice. 'Rapper.' The word echoed again in your mind.

"A new boy band?" you asked slowly, still processing the name on the flyer.

He nodded, just about to respond, when someone suddenly cut him off.

"There you are! Finished giving out those flyers?" a voice called out, belonging to a figure walking toward you and the guy you'd just helped. You tilted your head slightly, curious about who it was.

'Oh wow.'

A tall figure with silky black hair came into view. His features were striking—sharp jawline, straight nose, and warm brown eyes that caught the light just right. His presence was almost cinematic.

"No, I didn't. I accidentally bumped into this lady," said the baby-faced guy with rapper vibes, scratching his cheek a little.

The black-haired guy gave a short nod in understanding. "Oh it's okay, sorry about my friend here," he said, turning to face you directly.

You hadn't even realized you were still staring—barely blinking.

"Uh-huh." It was the only thing you could manage to say at the moment.

The black-haired guy shifted slightly, clearly thrown off by your blank stare. "My name is Jinu! I'm the leader of this boy band, Saja Boys," he introduced himself with an eager smile, lifting his hand for a handshake.

You glanced down at his outstretched hand, then back up to his face, maintaining your cool composure. "No need for a handshake. I don't do handshakes," you replied coolly.

Jinu froze for a second before awkwardly lowering his hand, letting out a small nervous chuckle. "Oh—my bad. I guess I'll have to find another way to get your attention," he said with a subtle smirk, his eyes briefly flickering with something playful before he quickly masked it.

"When's your debut?" you asked, your voice calm but curious.

Jinu's eyes lit up at your question. He quickly straightened up, smiling brighter.

"Ah! Now that you asked—we'll be performing near that plaza," he said, pointing toward the location just across the street. He glanced back at you, as if daring you to show up.

"Please come watch us perform! A little support means a lot to us—Saja Boys!"

You looked behind Jinu, seeing that the guy you bumped into was still standing there.

"And his name is?" you asked, your eyes briefly shifting to him.

His gaze met yours for a moment before darting away. He rubbed the back of his neck again, a little awkwardly.

"...Baby," he muttered in reply.

You blinked. Once. Twice. "Really?" you asked, completely dumbfounded by the name.

'Not only did I think "baby face", his name is literally Baby.'

"Um, well, it was nice to meet you both. I wish you luck on your debut, Jinu and Baby," you said with a slight smile, which made both Jinu and Baby smile in return.

"Thank you! Please come by and watch!" Jinu exclaimed enthusiastically.

"Yeah, you better go before your manager gets mad or something," you added, turning to walk away from the two guys, already thinking about buying food for you and Bobby. Maybe the girls would like some too.

'A tea would be nice...'

______

Jinu sighed in relief, placing a hand on his chest. "That was a close one," Mina said, poking Jinu on the side. He jumped at the sudden poke behind him. "Geez! Stop doing that," he muttered under his breath.

"She's so cold... not like the one you always described," Jinu commented, raising a brow towards Mina, who frowned

Mina popped her lollipop out of her mouth and scoffed. "Just be glad she didn't get suspicious of you two," she said sharply. "Now go and perform already," she said, walking off, going somewhere.

Jinu frowned. "Geez, okay, okay," he sighed, turning as the other members of the Saja Boys finished handing out their flyers.

"Let's go."

"Ooooh~ who was that pretty lady you and Baby were chatting up, huh?" The buff guy asked, putting his arm around Jinu and Baby. 

Jinu laughed nervously, brushing the buff guy's arm off. "It was just a random encounter, okay? She was... intense i guess."

Baby, still rubbing the back of his neck, mumbled, "She was cool... kinda scary, but cool."

Jinu shot him a look. "Scary?! She just doesn't do handshakes! That doesn't mean she's scary."

Baby shrugged. "Her stare was... sharp. I thought I saw my reflection in her eyes."

The buff guy cackled. "Oof, y'all are doomed. If she shows up to the debut, you better not trip over your lyrics."

______

"Wa-Wait. What is that?" Rumi said as they collected her tonics following their meeting with the individuals they ran into. They heard music playing in the distance and walked to the corner to investigate. Pink smoke covered the center of the gathering, and people murmured in amazement, wondering what it was. Mira and Zoey changed their so-called 'disguises.' Mira pulled Rumi's sweatshirt up to conceal more of her hair, while Zoey yanked on her own drawstrings too much, squishing her face and making her stumble. "Ooh, sorry!" Zoey winced.

Rumi stands up, breathing in and out, and walks closer to the odd pink haze. As a result, everyone surrounding the smoke could hear music thumping, which drew their attention.

Then the smoke clears, revealing five men performing in front.

♪"Don't want you need you. Yeah, I need you to fill me up!" ♪

♪" Masigo maysyeo bwa do..."♪

Rumi sneered, "It's those stupid jerks again!" Someone suddenly ran into Rumi and Mira in the middle, an elderly woman who hurried towards the jerks.

♪"Got a feeling that, oh yeah. You could be everything that I need!" ♪

The trio then discovers something: "These guys are boy bands?!" Rumi exclaims, stunned.

♪" Makes me want more."♪ 

♪"Looking like snacks!"♪

♪"You got it!"♪

♪"Take a big bite, want another bite!"♪ 

♪ "Neoui modeungeol nan wonhae!"♪

Rumi gasped as the black-haired guy produced a bag and began to sip from it.

♪ "Neomalgon modu peonhae peonhae"♪

"Oh no, he didn't," Rumi said, counting her bags. "That jerk stole one of my pouches!"

♪  "Can't let go, no, no, not tonight." ♪

♪ "Jigeum dangiang nal, Bwa shigan eobtjana"♪ 

♪ "Neon naegeoya imi algo itjana"♪

______

You just got out of the food store and have already purchased takeout for yourself and Bobby. Before you see the large gathering around the corner. "Oh yeah, those guys," you said before approaching it. "I wonder how good they're doing."

"Ohh~ A snack-"

______

♪ "'Cause I need you to need me." ♪

♪ "I'm empty, you feed me." ♪

♪ "So refreshing!" ♪

♪ "My little soda pop!"♪

They move in harmony, to the beat.

♪"You're all I can think of." ♪

♪"Every drop I drink up." ♪

♪"You're my soda pop." ♪

♪"My little soda pop." ♪

Zoey bobbed her shoulder with each beep, apparently loving the music.

♪"Cool me down, you're so hot."♪

Rumi scowled at Zoey, who stopped her shoulder with a timid smile. She was unable to stop moving her shoulder. "It is annoyingly catchy, though," Rumi said, her shoulder moving with the tune. Mira joins the shoulder dance.

"It's infectious."

As the male band continued to dance and sing with captivating energy, the girls suddenly gasped in unison. Their eyes widened as they noticed the mysterious markings reappearing on their bodies—symbols that had been there before but had mysteriously vanished until now.

"They're demons!" Rumi and Mira exclaimed simultaneously, their voices filled with shock and disbelief. Zoey, overwhelmed by the revelation, let out a piercing scream, "Magicians! I mean demons! Obviously demons!"

______

♪ "Make me wanna flip the top! Han Mogume, you hit the spot!" ♪

♪ "Every little drip and drop, fizz and pop, Soreum doda. It's gettin' hot..." ♪

After being momentarily distracted, you finally manage to push through the crowd and get a clear view of the performance. "I knew it—he's a rapper," you mutter to yourself, captivated by the rhythm and energy.

As you watch intently, your gaze suddenly locks with the leader's. Jinu's eyes widen in surprise. He had been scanning the crowd, noticing you weren't mingling with the others, but now he sees you clearly.

♪ "Come on, fill me up." ♪

♪ "Just can't get enough!" ♪

♪"You're all I can think of."♪

♪"Every drop I drink up"♪

♪"My Little soda pop." ♪

The crowd's cheers grew louder than before, with some fans pushing forward, eager to get closer to the boys on stage.

You huffed softly at the lyrics, "Soda pop, huh," a slight smile tugging at your lips. Lost in the moment, you didn't notice someone carefully trying to push through the crowd.

"Yu-Yuna!" The familiar voice snapped you out of your reverie. You quickly turned your head toward the sound, and not before your eyes locked once again with Jinu's. He smirked and winked playfully.

"Rumi?" you heard behind you.

Rumi, furious, had witnessed the entire exchange. Her eyes blazing with anger, she shoved a box of pouches into your hands with surprising force. Startled by her sudden shove, you barely caught the box before it hit you.

"What's this?" you asked, peering inside. It was filled with a bunch of tonics.

"I thought I told you to—Hey!" you tried to call after her, but Rumi had already pushed deeper into the crowd, making her way toward the front.

The performance ended to roaring applause, and the boys struck poses for their new fans.

"That's it for now. See you tonight on everyone's favorite variety show," Jinu announced with a grin. "Saja Boys love you!"

♪"My little soda pop!"♪ Jinu added, donning pink-tinted glasses. With a final wink and a finger heart, the group disappeared backstage.

"Huh, weird," you muttered, still processing the encounter.

Meanwhile, Rumi was fuming with anger, her frustration barely contained.

_______________________· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·_____________________

Taglist: @doggyteam2028 @ulmban @ridewiththetide3@pandafuriosa60 @nesrynsblog

Note: Oop- someone anger-

[mimiu3usoft]

Broken Glass| 5 ɪ'ᴍ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ʜᴇʀᴇ

The wind blew past your figure. It had been an hour now since Rumi went off by herself to get some fresh air. You had a gut feeling—you knew where she might've gone. You stood by the balcony railings of the Huntrix building, the city lights flickering below.

"It's been an hour now. She won't even answer her phone," Mira said, pacing back and forth with growing worry.

Zoey glanced at her. "Mira, maybe sit for a moment," she suggested gently, though concern lingered in her voice. 

You turned to look at them, a soft sigh escaping your lips. "I'm sorry, you guys. I know I should've gone with her... but it really seemed like she needed some space," you said quietly.

Mira looked at you, her brows drawn together in a deep frown. There was worry in her eyes—real, raw, and restless. "It's just that... ever since she released the new single, she's been different," she said softly, almost like she was afraid to admit it out loud. 

Her hands came together, fingers twisting nervously as she continued, voice tight. "And I know you've been the one beside her through it all. I see the way she looks at you—like you're the only one who really gets it. Gets her. As to why she's pushing herself, maybe too hard."

"It's also my fault... for not talking to her sooner," you said, pressing your lips together tightly. "I should've told her to rest... told all of you to rest," you mumbled, the guilt sitting heavy in your chest.

'Was it also she who caused that red wave of the Honmoon?'

"I should go and start looking for her," you told Mira and Zoey.

"Be careful out there," Zoey said, offering you a small but sincere smile.

Summoning your umbrella, it glowed in the dark, cold night. The fabric shimmered gently, while the metal ribs glowed in iridescent rainbow hues, and the silver handle rested smoothly in your palm. With a quiet click, you opened it, resting it on your shoulder before leaping gracefully from the top of the building.

"Totally bad timing but... damn, she's badass," Zoey muttered.

______

Closing your umbrella the moment your feet touched the ground, you looked ahead and saw her—Rumi, curled up and shivering in the cold night air. Her jacket lay discarded beside her on the ground, forgotten.

"Rumi..." you called softly.

She flinched at the sound of your voice. "No, no, no—please don't look at me..." she choked out, her voice trembling as she tried desperately to cover marks on her skin with her arms. "Don't look at me..." she sobbed again, curling in tighter, like she could disappear.

You walked slowly toward her, each step deliberate, careful—like approaching a wounded animal afraid of even kindness.

Then gently, you reached for her wrist.

"Hey, hey, Rumi... breathe."

Her whole body trembled, but she didn't pull away this time. You guided her hands to your chest, pressing them flat so she could feel your heartbeat—steady, calm, grounding.

"Feel that? It's okay. I'm here... I'm right here, Rumi."

Her breath hitched again, but as your forehead pressed against hers, something shifted. Her panicked gaze met yours—wide, glassy, desperate—and slowly, her shoulders dropped. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to follow your rhythm.

Inhale. Exhale.

Matching you. Trusting you.

"I'm here," you whispered again. 

"Just why now?" she mumbled. 

"It may not comfort you, Rumi," you said softly, "but perhaps... maybe there's a good reason for it to happen."

"NO!" she shouted, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear and anger. The moment her voice rang out, a sudden pulse of red Honmoon light burst from her—wild, untamed. It rippled out like a wave, casting the shadows around you in crimson.

She gasped, eyes wide in horror, stumbling back as if she'd done something unforgivable. But you didn't flinch. You didn't let go.

Your hands were still holding hers—firm, steady, unwavering.

"I'm sorry, I—" she began to choke on her words, but you gently shook your head.

"You don't have to apologize. Not to me. Not for what you feel."

Her lip trembled, the panic in her eyes flickering like a dying flame trying to burn just a bit longer.

"You're not alone, Rumi," you said, your voice low, anchored with truth.

Her lips wobbled, and her voice came out as a broken whisper. "How can you stay here... looking at me like this?" The tears streamed freely now, each one carrying the weight of fear, shame, and years of hiding. Her blurry eyes searched your face, desperate to understand how you could still look at her the same way.

Without a word, you let go of one of her hands and gently reached up, your fingers brushing against her cheek. She flinched at first—uncertain, unworthy—but when your hand rested softly on her face, she leaned into it. Her skin was cold, but the warmth of your touch made her tremble.

"I'm looking at you," you whispered, your thumb brushing a tear away, "because I see you, Rumi. All of you. And none of this... none of it changes who you are to me."

She closed her eyes, breathing in slow, shaky gulps as she pressed more into your hand—needing it, grounding herself with it. Your presence, so calm and steady, was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

"You don't have to be perfect. You don't have to hide. I'm still here."

And in that silence, her sobs softened—still there, still heavy—but now wrapped in the quiet, unshakable truth of your words.

Behind the shadows, a figure stood, their frown deepening as they watched the scene unfold—the warm reunion, the comforting embrace, the silent healing. A flicker of something unreadable passed through their eyes before they turned away.

'Why could you be there for her... when you weren't there for me?'

The bitter thought echoed as they stepped out into the dim corridor, footsteps barely audible.

Your head suddenly snapped to the side—heart skipping for a moment. You could've sworn you felt something, someone. A presence.

But the hallway was empty.

______

After that intense breakdown with Rumi, the two of you finally made it back home. The elevator dinged softly as it opened to your floor. You were the first to step out, your eyes immediately locking onto Mira and Zoey, who had been pacing in the living room. The moment they saw you, they stood up at once—worried, alert.

Then, Rumi quietly stepped beside you.

She kept her head down, her hands tightly clutching her jacket around her as if to shield herself. Her steps were small, hesitant, but she stayed close—her shoulder brushing against yours for silent reassurance.

Mira and Zoey walked over to her, gently reassuring her that everything was being handled, especially after missing the live performance for their fans.

______

You decided to give the girls some space, so you quietly excused yourself and left them for the evening. They had made plans to go out for dinner together, and although Rumi made an effort to reach out—trying to get a moment to talk or even ask you to stay—you gently told her that something had come up. Your words were brief, and though she didn't press further, the disappointment in her eyes was unmistakable.

You left her in Mira and Zoey's care, knowing they would be there for her. Still, as Rumi watched you walk away, a part of her silently wished you had stayed, even just for a little while longer. But in the end, she said nothing and let it be.

Running through the shadows, your figure moved effortlessly with them—like you belonged there. Your braided hair swayed behind you, catching on the cold wind that whispered through the alleyways and rooftops. Every movement was calculated, quiet, and cautious. You were trained for this. Eyes sharp, senses heightened, ready for anything.

Your feet hit the ground lightly, not a sound echoing, as if the darkness itself absorbed your presence. The chill of the night air clung to your bare skin, making you shiver beneath your clothes. But you didn't mind. You liked the wind. It reminded you that you were alive. That you were still moving. Still fighting.

You slowed down after that final sprint, your chest rising and falling with steady, controlled breaths. But no matter how deep you inhaled, that pressure in your chest—the weight of unease—wouldn't go away.

Your brows furrowed.

That wasn't just anxiety. That wasn't nerves.

You were sure of it now. Something—someone—was there, hiding in the dark, watching from the corners where the light didn't reach.

'A demon?'

But there's something off. 

_______________________· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·_____________________

Taglist: @doggyteam2028 @ulmban @ridewiththetide3 @pandafuriosa60

Note: I might just continue the story here than Wattpad- cause erm ;-; your comments help me continue the story o((>ω< ))o

[mimiu3usoft]

Broken Glass| 4 ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ

"What a way to end the world tour!!" After the girls wrapped up their performance, they finally got a chance to relax. The staff moved quickly, handing out drinks and food to the members.

"The finale with the guy in the demon suit exploding into confetti?"

"Those special effects looked amazing," one of the staff complimented.

Mira chuckled. "Yeah... 'special effects.'"

"This is gonna break the bank—but oh! Look at these social numbers!" another staff member exclaimed, pulling out his phone. "They're off the charts!"

He quickly stashed the phone back into his pocket and grinned. "And to celebrate, I booked you a week-long staycation at the fanciest, most exclusive relaxation resort in all of Korea!"

"Sorry, Bobby. We already have plans," Mira said.

"What? What plans?" Bobby asked, confused.

"We've got the hottest ticket in town," Zoey replied, sharing a look with Mira. "To our couch! Couch! Couch!" the two chanted, already bouncing with excitement as they marched off.

"Wait!!" Zoey suddenly stopped, glancing around suspiciously. "Aha! You thought you could sneak away? Nope!"

She grabbed your wrist and yanked you out of your hiding spot.

"Zoey, I have things to do—" you began, only to yelp as she and Mira dragged you along.

"Work time is over, Yuna. It is time. To. RELAX," Mira declared, as both of them chanted "couch" like it was a sacred ritual.

Rumi, watching the chaotic scene unfold, laughed softly and turned to Bobby. "You should go enjoy the resort, Bobby."

"This tour has been grueling for everyone. You deserve it," Rumi told Bobby gently.

"Me? Oh, no. I couldn't possibly—" Bobby paused dramatically, then grinned. "Just kidding. Robe me up! I'm 34 short. See you in a couple of weeks, girls!"

"Byeee Bobby!!" the girls called out as they waved, then all turned toward you.

You let out a long sigh. "Ugh, do I have to—"

"YES, LET'S GO!!" they squealed in delight, thrilled to drag you along.

"Two weeks of vacation," Mira hummed as Zoey jumped excitedly. 

"Yes. Vacation," Rumi repeated a little too cheerfully.

You shot her a side-eye. She whistled innocently and looked away, pretending to admire the ceiling.

______

After the girls had cleaned up, refreshed themselves, and slipped into clean robes, they finally gathered in the cozy living room—where you were already waiting, with food laid out and ready to eat. You glanced at Zoey and Mira, who were happily grabbing more snacks, chatting animatedly.

But something felt off. You noticed someone was missing.

"Hm," you muttered under your breath. You stood up quietly, leaving your plate behind, and made your way out of the room—heading off to find her.

As you walked down the quiet hallway, you pulled out your phone. The screen lit up with a notification—a news alert that made your expression harden instantly.

Exactly what you expected.

You stared at the screen for a moment, brows furrowed. The glow from the phone reflected in your eyes as you slowly exhaled through your nose.

Of course. It had already begun.

______

The room was completely on—a soft glow spilling out from beneath the door, a clear sign someone was inside.

You walked closer, your footsteps light but certain. Through the slight opening, you saw Rumi's silhouette, standing quietly in front of the clothing rack. She was gazing at the outfits you'd designed for their upcoming special single—her fingers gently brushing the sleeve of one.

"It's time."

Your voice broke the silence, calm and steady.

"Isn't it too early to release the new single, Rumi?" 

Rumi jumped, clutching her chest with wide eyes. You raised an eyebrow as she exhaled, trying to ease her startled heart.

"Oh geez, Yuna. You scared me."

She laughed softly, but the way she turned her gaze back to the outfit hinted at something heavier on her mind.

You walk over to where she stands, your eyes following the soft lines of the outfits you designed, each one carrying its own story. Rumi stands still, her gaze locked on one of them, the silence between you both heavy with unspoken thoughts. Whatever's going through her mind, it's clearly lingering too long.

Your eyes shift to her hand—so close to yours, unmoving. Gently, you let your fingers brush against hers before sliding your hand into her palm. Her fingers twitch slightly at the contact. She looks down at your hands, then slowly up at you, her expression softening.

"Wanna try them on?" you ask, your voice quiet but warm.

Rumi blinks, surprised by the offer—but her lips pull into the faintest smile.

______

"GIRLS, you won't believe this!" Bobby exclaimed as he stepped out of the elevator with you, his eyes glued to his phone. You glanced at the screen briefly before looking ahead—Rumi stood proudly in her new outfit, clearly excited to perform, while the other two...

"Bobby!" Mira groaned. 

"No more relaxy time!" Zoey whined.

Both Mira and Zoey were already dressed in their new outfits, but their bodies were hunched forward dramatically, as if the weight of reality had just come crashing down on them.

"Your new single is on fire! Everyone's listening to it!" Bobby announced excitedly.

"YAYYY!!" the girls cheered.

"So let's go promo!!" Bobby spun around dramatically, tossing off his robe and removing his eye mask, revealing an outfit that matched Rumi's style—designed by you, of course, but with Bobby's unique flair.

______

Watching the scene unfold as the girls were interviewed about their new single, "Golden," you realized you shouldn't have made that promise to be in the front row—because she was looking for you.

"Tell us more about the new single," the interviewer asked the group.

"Golden is the story of us," Mira answered briefly, her voice steady. Rumi snapped out of her thoughts, glancing at Mira before smiling softly.

"It's a song about who we are—and where we're headed next."

"And the first live performance is tonight!!" Zoey added with excitement, sending the crowd into a frenzy of cheers. 

______

You smiled quietly, watching Mira and Zoey giggling as they took turns snapping playful photos of each other. Their laughter echoed in the room, light and carefree—like the calm before a storm.

But your eyes shifted toward the hallway. Something tugged at your chest, something unspoken.

You walked away from the cheerful noise, your steps quiet against the polished floor, until you reached the closed door. Behind it, you heard a soft, heavy sigh—one that didn't belong on such a joyful day.

Raising your hand, you knocked gently.

"...Come in," came the soft reply.

You opened the door slowly, the creak barely audible. Inside, Rumi stood with her back to you, startled, quickly trying to compose herself. She turned ever so slightly, her fingers brushing away something you knew she'd been trying to hide—uncertainty, or maybe the tears she hadn't let fall yet.

You paused in the doorway, eyes meeting hers through the mirror's reflection.

She gulped, the movement of her throat subtle but telling. Her hands clenched at her sides as if steadying herself. Her expression, calm on the surface, betrayed a storm of emotion underneath—hope, fear, maybe even doubt.

The silence hung between you like fragile glass.

But you didn't have to say anything yet. You stepped in, gently closing the door behind you.

Rumi let out a shaky breath, her voice soft but full of meaning as she began to sing.

♪ "Waited so long to break these walls down..." ♪

♪ "To wake up and feel like me." ♪ ♪ "Put these patterns all in the past now... And finally live like the girl they all see." ♪

Your eyes softened, frowning slightly at every word she poured out.

You watched as she quietly zipped up her jacket, covering the beautiful glowing marks on her arms—those marks that had once been a source of fear, now hidden again like a secret not yet ready for the world.

She adjusted her top and took a steadying breath, as if sealing the emotions beneath the surface.

Then her voice rose—stronger this time, braver.

♪ "No more hiding, I'll be shining, like I'm born to be!" ♪ ♪ "'Cause we are hunters, voices strong, and I know—I believe!" ♪

Her reflection in the mirror held your gaze, and in that moment, you saw it—not just the courage it took to sing those words, but the quiet strength behind them.

She was ready.

For you, it wasn't just about the stage, or the lights, or even the song.

It was about her.

You could see it—how she tried to keep it together, how she zipped up her jacket just high enough to cover the marks on her skin. The marks she thought were flaws. Mistakes. But to you, they were nothing short of beautiful. Proof of who she was. What she survived.

How many times had you told her that? That they were beautiful? That she didn't have to hide them? But every time... she did. She still doubted.

You took a slow step closer. Your voice was quiet, but the words were full of everything she needed to hear.

"When will you realize... you're beautiful just the way you are?"

Rumi froze for a moment.

Then slowly, she turned around. Her eyes shimmered—uncertain, guarded, and full of something she couldn't quite name. And without saying anything, she walked right into your arms.

Her grip was tight, almost desperate. Like if she held on hard enough, she might start to believe it.

You held her just as tightly.

But even in the warmth of the hug, even with her arms wrapped around you, you saw it in her eyes when they flickered open over your shoulder— She hadn't accepted it yet.

Not fully. Not completely.

She wanted to.

But part of her was still lost in the lies she told herself...

______

Bobbing your head to the beat of their music, you watched as the girls rehearsed. The stage was alive with energy, even without an audience—though you knew the fans were already waiting for the live performance to begin.

Beside you, Bobby was dancing along enthusiastically. Surprisingly, he nailed the moves—until he accidentally swung his arm and smacked the poor cameraman. You stifled a laugh as the crew scrambled to recover.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly... until Rumi's voice cracked.

Your brow shot up instantly. She paused mid-verse, coughing lightly as she cleared her throat.

"Rumi?" you called, your tone sharp with concern.

She looked at you for a split second before quickly glancing down and clearing her throat again.

"You okay?" Mira asked, her voice full of worry. Zoey turned to Rumi, then looked toward you, silently searching for your reaction.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Rumi said quickly, waving it off. "Let's take it again. From the top."

But even as the music resumed, you couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.

The song resumed, and the girls started again from the top. Their movements were sharp, the energy was high, and everything looked absolutely perfect from a distance. But something gnawed at you. You frowned, your eyes narrowing slightly as you focused on Rumi.

If everything was fine... then what was wrong?

Just as Rumi stepped forward to hit the high note—the one she always nailed—her voice faltered. She suddenly coughed, bringing a hand to her chest as she stepped back.

"Um, Rumi, are you okay?" Bobby asked, his smile faltering into a look of concern. He leaned forward, holding out a bottle. "Do you need some water?"

Rumi shook her head slightly, though her expression wasn't convincing. Her voice cracked again as she replied, "I just need five. I'm gonna take five."

One of the staff members nearby called out, a hint of panic in her voice, "Five minutes? We go live in ten!"

The tension in the room shifted. The energy wavered.

______

You rose from your chair without a word. Mira and Zoey looked at you, concern mirrored in their eyes, but they said nothing as you walked past. You made brief eye contact with them—enough to signal you had this handled—before turning and heading in the direction Rumi had gone, your footsteps quick and certain.

You found yourself where you last saw Rumi go in. You were about to knock when the door suddenly swung open, and Rumi walked out quickly, almost brushing past you.

"Rumi—" you called out, reaching for her wrist, but she pulled it away before you could touch her. Realizing what she did, she paused and shook her head.

"Just... give me some time for myself, Yuna. Please." Her voice cracked, and her eyes stayed downcast, unable to meet yours.

You looked at her, hurt, but you nodded silently and stepped aside to give her space. She let out a shaky sigh.

"Take all the time you need...I'll be here when you're ready," you whispered.

She heard you—her steps faltered for just a moment, the warmth of your words lingering in her heart. Then she took off running, leaving you behind in the quiet, dim hallway.

_______________________· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·_____________________

Pls if you want to be tagged on the next chp dont be afraid to comment! <33

Taglist: @doggyteam2028 @ulmban @ridewiththetide3

Note: I have added some characters to the story. Yuna is a (y/n) thing, but if you don't like it, well, I can't do anything about it, sorry. Mina is just a 'side character' hehe. There will be one more character, so stay updated!

No hate T T i only want to share my ideas and writings. Oh and english is not my first launguage, so i apologize.

Edit: Just wanna let you all know that Yuna has long hair that's all, no features, just long hair T T

[mimiu3usoft]

Broken Glass | 3 ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ ʙᴏʏ ʙᴀɴᴅ

As the Huntrix continued their performance above, tension brewed deep beneath the human world. One of the demons who had attempted to stop the Hunters had barely escaped with her life and now found herself making the long, dreadful journey back to report to their king—Gwi-Ma, the Demon King.

Her body trembled with every step as she entered the vast, shadowy hall of the underworld. The heavy silence was suffocating, broken only by the echo of her heels clicking against the stone floor. She stumbled, tripping over her own feet, and crashed to her knees. Panic flashed in her eyes as she quickly looked around.

Dozens of demons surrounded her, each one staring silently with unreadable, cold expressions. Their eyes followed her every move, some filled with disdain, others with curiosity. But one thing was clear—she had failed. And in this world, failure meant punishment.

She swallowed hard, knowing that whatever awaited her at the throne ahead, she was most definitely screwed.

She came to a slow halt, her eyes lifting toward the towering staircase that led to the throne—where the flame-wreathed figure of Gwi-Ma loomed. Before she could even place a single foot on the first step, Gwi-Ma, already seething with impatience, his flame arose. In an instant, a wave of scorching energy pulled her body forward, dragging her helplessly through the air until she was thrown to the ground.

"Let me guess. They got away again?" His deep voice made the demon in front of him whimper in fear.

"The Hunters... they're too strong," she stammered.

"I understand," he said calmly.

The demon looked up at the king, hope flickering in her eyes that he might spare her.

"Y-You do?"

"I understand... that you are WEAK!"

He erupted, flames shooting out around her as she screamed in pain.

"Pathetic!"

"Useless!"

The demon flinched, stumbling back in fear under the wrath of their king.

"All of you!" he roared.

"Don't you idiots know?!" Gwi-ma roared, his voice echoing like a shockwave through the dark chamber. "Once the Hunters turn the Honmoon gold, it's over for us!"

His flames flared higher, reflecting the rage in his flames. The gathered demons cowered as he stepped forward, his aura suffocating, molten with hatred.

______

One of the demons began to sob, crying uncontrollably, its whimpers echoing in the tense silence. But then—a sound. A soft, haunting melody echoed through the chamber, the distinct pluck of a bipa slicing through the tension like a blade.

All the demons turned, their eyes searching for the source of the music.

"There once was a mighty demon king..."

A deep, rich voice spoke—smooth, charismatic, and laced with mockery. It commanded attention.

"Stop me if you've heard this one before," he added, a slight smirk in his tone as he continued to pluck the bipa slowly, each note ringing clear.

"He was in total control. He feasted on souls. The world trembled when he roared."

He began to float down gracefully among the demons, who instinctively parted to make way for him, their eyes wary and reverent.

"But then some Hunters sang some songs," he continued, his fingers never missing a beat.

"Now all he does... is starve."

Behind him, his companion emerged—its glowing eyes pierced the thick fog, a beastly silhouette walking with deadly calm. It growled low, resonating like thunder.

"Can't get at the souls, and his flame grows cold... just a whisper in the dark."

Half of the man's face was obscured beneath the wide brim of his black hat, casting a deep shadow over his eyes.

Still playing his bipa, he began to sing, his voice smooth and chilling:

♪ "And will he let the fire go out?" ♪ ♪ "Is this the end of him now?" ♪ ♪ "Dying king with a crumbling crown?" ♪ ♪ "Will he let the fire go out?" ♪

The eerie melody echoed through the dark, each note striking a nerve in every demon present. The crowd fell into complete silence, the only sound coming from the last lingering vibrations of his strings.

Then, without missing a beat, he stopped—right in front of the king's towering stairs, eyes hidden under the brim of his hat, but a smile ever present.

"I let you keep that voice, Jinu. And you dare to mock me with it?" Gwi-ma growled, his voice heavy with fury.

"I'm not here to mock you," Jinu replied calmly. "I'm here to help you."

Behind him, four figures slowly emerged from the mist—dressed in ancient garb, their presence, their faces unreadable. They silently took their place behind Jinu, standing tall like shadows of an older time.

"It's time for a new strategy," Jinu continued, floating forward with his group toward Gwi-ma. "We fight the Hunters where they least expect it."

He paused, the air thick with tension.

"We go after the very thing that powers the Honmoon."

His head lifted, a slow smirk curling at his lips as his yellow eyes gleamed through the shadows.

"The fans."

They then struck a pose in front of the Demon King.

"A demon boy band?" Gwi-ma blinked in disbelief before bursting into laughter. His flames flared wildly with every laugh that echoed through the chamber. The rest of the demons soon joined in, their mocking cackles filling the cavernous throne room.

"This is your grand idea?" Gwi-ma scoffed, still amused. "What makes you think that could work?"

Jinu simply smirked. With a snap of his fingers, his group stepped forward. One by one, their monstrous forms shimmered and shifted—their once menacing fangs disappeared, their hair now dyed in vibrant hues, adorned with glimmering jewelry on their ears and fingers.

They stood tall with polished hair, sculpted faces, and confident smirks—charmers pulled straight from a dream... or perhaps a nightmare. The kind of beauty that could make human fans scream, their eyes turning into hearts with just one look.

______

"I had someone help me—us—develop this strategy," Jinu said, determined. "She knows it'll work."

"Oh?" Gwi-ma's eyes narrowed, confused for a moment... until realization struck him. He let out a thunderous roar, louder than before.

"I know you, Jinu. In 400 years, you've never done a single thing that didn't serve yourself. So, what do you want?"

The tension in the air thickened like smoke. Then, another figure emerged—glowing yellow eyes piercing through the darkness. She stepped forward to stand beside Jinu, a calm, eerie smile on her face.

"The memories," he said. "I want them erased."

Gwi-ma sneered. "And you? To think you'd devise a strategy to destroy what you once protected. Why?"

She tilted her head, unfazed by the heat of his flame brushing against her skin. Her smile deepened.

"Mina."

"I just want to join the fun... and destroy what should've been destroyed a long time ago."

Jinu could only frown at her comment, displeasure flickering in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Gwi-ma let out a deep, booming laugh. He leaned forward slightly, flame crackling with amusement.

"I've always liked you," he said, his voice dripping with dark delight. "Ever since you chose to be the sacrifice."

If only they could see how desperate she was. 

_______________________· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·_____________________

Pls if you want to be tagged on the next chp dont be afraid to comment! <33

Taglist: @doggyteam2028

[mimiu3usoft]

Broken Glass| 2 ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴅᴏɴᴇ

Inside the plane, the glow of the Honmoon pulsed to life, its radiant energy wrapping around the plane. The demons stiffened, clearly uneasy.

Rumi stepped forward, the beat already pulsing in her veins. Mira and Zoey warmed up beside her—one adjusting her gloves, the other bouncing with dangerous glee.

Meanwhile, you stayed right where you were—lounging, sipping your soda like this was all just routine. Because, well... it was.

♪ "Ugh, you came at a bad time." ♪ Rumi's voice rang out strong and sharp.

♪ "You just crossed the line." ♪ Mira tightened her gloves, her gaze deadly serious. Zoey stretched with a childlike grin that didn't quite reach her sharp eyes.

"Don't ruin the outfits, you guys..." You muttered without looking up.

Rumi smirked. Game on.

♪ "You wanna get wild? Okay, I'll show you wild!" ♪ She flung her arms forward like a conductor—just as Mira and Zoey launched themselves into the fray.

SLAM. Demons flew across the aisle.

♪ "Better come right, better luck tryin', gettin' to our levels..." ♪ Rumi strolled to the mini-kitchen, casually picking up the kettle, raising a single finger at the snarling red demon—like she was scolding a puppy.

The demon hesitated. Big mistake.

♪ "'Cause you might die, never the time, tryna start a battle." ♪ The water bubbled as Rumi struck—her leg whipped up in a perfect arc, slamming straight into the demon's jaw. She spun, dodged a second attack, then retaliated with a punch.

♪ "Bleeding isn't in my blood, ppyos-sogbuteo dallaseo—" ♪ She tossed the steaming kettle mid-air.

Mira caught it. CRACK—brought it down onto a demon strapped into a passenger seat like a steel drum solo.

♪ "Beating you is what I do, do, do, yeah." ♪ She tossed it to Zoey, who caught it with one hand—her other still clutching her instant ramyeon.

With a spin and a high-kick, Zoey cleared a path and poured the water in.

♪ "Body on body, I'm naughty—not even sorry!" ♪ They stood like queens of chaos, noodles in one hand, fists in the other.

♪ "When you pull up, I'll pull up—A little late to the party!" ♪ They kicked in unison, launching the remaining demons across the plane.

♪ "Na, na, na, na." ♪ Mira raised her chopsticks.

Zoey closed her eyes, savoring the scent.

Rumi snatched both their bowls. "Three minutes," she reminded with a grin, pointing at the lids.

♪ "Locked and loaded, I was born for this. There ain't no point in avoiding it." ♪

♪ "Annoyed a bit? Bul-eul bichwo da bikyeo, ne apgil-eul ppaesgyeo!" ♪

Then the demons noticed you—the quiet one on the couch, still sipping your drink.

Too late.

One lunged.

You stood with a sigh—then bam, a clean roundhouse to the face sent him flying into his friends.

The rest hesitated.

Bad idea.

You launched a flurry of strikes, each precise, elegant, lethal. You kicked them like you were swatting flies—straight into the trio's zone.

The girls turned as a pile of demons landed before them.

♪ "Knocking you out like a lullaby~" ♪ You dusted off your sleeves, calmly taking your seat again.

Zoey's daggers gleamed like twin stars. Mira's spear shimmered as mana flowed through her fingertips, while Rumi's sword pulsed with raw light, summoned from thin air like a ribbon of flame and lightning.

♪ "Hear that sound ringing in your mind... Better sit down for the show." ♪

The demons, once cocky and bloodthirsty, froze at the sight of the girls' weapons. Their bravado melted into sheer panic.

They scrambled for the emergency exits, clawing and climbing over each other like rats.

Too late.

♪ "'Cause I'm gonna show you how it's done, done, done!" ♪

With flawless synchronization, the trio charged.

Slash. Whirl. Impact.

Steel met shadow—Zoey twirled midair, slicing through two with a dancer's precision. Mira lunged with her spear, pinning three to the wall like insects. Rumi's sword carved arcs of radiant light, each swing igniting sparks on impact.

♪ "Huntrix, don't miss! How it's done, done, done!" ♪

Demons wailed as they vanished into black ash, one by one.

The girls laughed. Not out of cruelty—but joy. Victory.

♪ "Hey! Huntrix, don't quit. How it's done, done, done!" ♪ ♪ "Run, run, we run the town!" ♪

Suddenly, the plane shuddered violently.

BOOM. A violent shake sent the trio stumbling mid-verse. Mira caught Zoey, while Rumi threw out an arm to steady herself.

SSSPLASH.

You groaned as your soda finally spilled, dripping onto the floor like wasted dreams.

"Great," you muttered, watching the fizzy puddle spread.

Rumi glanced over, saw your cup teetering—too far to catch—but you casually kicked it up with your boot, caught it.

She blinked. "...Show-off."

♪ "Whole world playing our sound!" ♪

Everyone's attention snapped to the window.

Wind howled.

The tail half of the plane was gone—cleanly ripped off like paper. Debris and suitcases swirled in the chaos, sucked into the sky.

♪ "Turnin' up, it's going down! Huntrix shows this, how it's done, done, done." ♪

Two demons clung to the wings outside—tearing at the metal, peeling it back with claws.

All of them walked toward the torn edge of the plane. The wind howled around them, tugging at their clothes as clouds rushed by below.

"Yeah, this plane's trashed," Mira said flatly before all three slurped the last of their ramyeon in unison and drank the remaining broth like it was their final meal.

You sighed, shaking your head as you stared out at the chaos. "I'm seriously going to start checking every flight attendant myself when booking flights."

♪ "Yeah. Something about when you come for the crown that's so humbling." ♪ With a confident smirk, Rumi turned her back to the exit and leaned backward out of the plane, arms outstretched. One by one, Mira, Zoey, and you followed—diving into the night sky like shooting stars.

♪ "Gabjagi wae geurae? Meonjeo geiondeulyeo, wae? Ijeya pogihae, what? Nothing to us. Run up, you're done up, we come up from sunup to sundown, so come out to play." ♪

Rumi dove like a missile—fast and fearless. Her heel began to glow from the sheer speed and mana she built up mid-fall. ♪ "Wrong either way, we're one in a million. We killin', we bring it, you want it? Okay—" ♪ She spun in the air and slammed her glowing heel into a demon that had leapt toward her, sending it flying like a comet through the clouds.

♪ "Heels, nails, blade, mascara!" ♪ Rumi pulled out a compact mirror mid-dive, flawlessly touching up her mascara before tossing it toward Mira with perfect aim.

♪ "Fit check for my napalm era!" ♪ Mira, perched like a queen on the back of a screeching demon as wind whipped her hair around with a blow dryer in hand and a brush on the other.

♪ "Need to beat my face, make it cute and savage!" ♪ Zoey had one demon restrained in a headlock, brushing bright blush across its terrified face with a giggle. Strangely enough... it didn't even seem to mind.

♪ "Mirror, mirror on my phone. Who's the baddest? Us? Hello!" ♪ With a wink, Zoey threw one of her glowing daggers straight through the demon, killing it on the spot.

♪ "Knocking you out like a lullaby! Hear that sound ringing in your mind!" ♪

Your figure hovered just beside Rumi as she and the others dived headfirst through the night sky. Below, the stadium glittered like a sea of stars—tens of thousands of fans cheering, unaware of the battle that had just taken place above.

The girls locked eyes, their adrenaline rising. This was their moment.

Rumi turned slightly, her eyes gleaming with excitement as she glanced at you. You, however, remained calm—your gaze locked onto the bright, glowing stage below. In the flicker of stadium lights, your eyes shimmered like glass catching the sun.

And then, you moved.

With a graceful flick of your wrist, you summoned your object—an elegant, enchanted umbrella glowing with soft light. It opened with a satisfying snap, catching the wind just in time to slow your fall.

"Have fun, girls," you said softly, drifting upward like a feather caught in a breeze.

"Thank you, Yuna!!" the trio shouted together, their voices full of excitement and gratitude as they picked up speed toward the stage.

♪ "Better sit down for the show! 'Cause I'm gonna show you—" ♪

The stage lights caught them mid-air, bathing their silhouettes in gold and violet. Gasps erupted across the stadium. Every fan's eyes locked onto the three falling stars.

With perfect precision, the trio landed center stage—striking their poses like the fierce hunters and idols they were.

♪ "How's it done, done, done!" ♪

The crowd erupted in thunderous cheers, a wave of energy rippling through the stadium. Thousands of glowing light sticks lit up like stars, painting the entire arena in a kaleidoscope of colors—purples, blues, and golds dancing across the night.

Still hovering in the air, you let out a soft sigh, your eyes calmly taking in the vibrant scene below. It was loud, chaotic, alive—but somehow peaceful, too.

Your phone buzzed in your hand. Glancing at the screen, you saw Bobby's name lighting up. With a flick, you answered.

"Yes, Bobby?"

His voice came through, practically wheezing with relief. "Oh my god, Yuna—thank you! Thank you for bringing the girls! You're the best!"

You couldn't help but smile at the edge of his frantic joy.

"Wait—where are you right now?!"

You paused for a second, just as your heels touched the top rim of the stadium, where the tech lights usually were—far from the crowds. Your umbrella vanished in a shimmer of magic.

"I'm just enjoying the concert like you are, Bobby," you replied coolly.

From your perch, you could see it all: the girls dancing and singing their hearts out, the crowd roaring in sync, and the magic of the Honmoon glowing faintly golden around them, pulsing with every beat.

You stood there alone, wind brushing against your hair as the echo of the music surrounded you.

Below, Huntrix belted their chorus, their voices filled with power and harmony, commanding the stage like queens.

The crowd sang along with them—a unified voice of love, loyalty, and excitement.

Your gaze softened.

'Brings back memories...'

_______________________· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·_____________________

[mimiu3usoft]

Broken Glass| 1 ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛꜱ ᴅᴏɴᴇ

"We're gonna be late!!" Rumi, the purple-haired girl, shouted in a panic.

"Hold onnn!" groaned Mira as she struggled to finish fixing her hair in front of the mirror.

"You better be done by now—we're driving really fast to the airport!" Bobby yelled through the phone, voice full of urgency.

"We're done!!" the three members of Huntrix cheered in unison, eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and nerves.

"Oh my gosh!! I'm nervous and excited—like, excited-excited!!" Zoey squealed, practically bouncing as the trio dashed out to their ride.

Rumi laughed. "You're not the only one, Zoey—we all are!!"

"YASSS!" "WHOAAAA!!"

Inside the car, the energy was electric. Tonight was the final stop of their world tour. They were heading back to Korea to perform their newest song—the grand finale.

Rumi glanced out the window, her expression softening. Her nerves mingled with excitement. She was finally going to see her childhood friend again. Going home felt surreal. Her eyes lit up as the airport came into view.

"We're finally here," she whispered. "Going back to Korea... going back home."

As they approached, the sight of fans and cameras awaiting their arrival made their hearts race faster.

"There they are!!"

The moment the car slowed, flashes erupted from every direction. The security team jumped into action, forming a protective barrier.

"Remain calm! Please don't push each other!" one of the guards shouted.

But the crowd didn't listen—paparazzi surged forward, fans screamed, and camera flashes lit up like lightning.

"Better run for it, girls," Rumi smirked, adjusting her hoodie and glancing at the others. "Ready?"

"Go!!"

The doors flew open. The trio burst out like a storm of stars, met with blinding flashes and deafening cheers.

"OH MY GOD, THEY'RE HERE!!" "RUMIIII WE LOVE YOUUU!!" "ZOEYYY, NOTICE MEEE!!" "MIRAAAA, MY QUEEN!!"

The trio flashed radiant smiles, signing autographs and waving. But soon, the guards surrounded them tightly.

"It's urgent—they have to board now!"

The fans roared so loudly, even the guards looked nervous. But nothing could stop Huntrix now.

______

As the cheers of the crowd echoed like a storm around them, the girls smiled and waved—but their eyes weren't just on the fans.

They were searching.

Among the sea of flashing cameras and waving hands, they were looking for someone.

Rumi's gaze darted through the crowd, scanning every face. And then— She froze.

There. Just ahead.

A figure stood with her back to them—familiar, unmistakable. Her hair braided just like Rumi's, though styled in her own unique way. Her clothes were different, striking—one of a kind.

Rumi opened her mouth, her heart leaping. She was just about to call out when—

"YUNAAA!!"

Zoey's voice pierced the noise as she shouted the name with full force, waving her arms like a windmill.

Rumi blinked, lips still parted, then sighed with a small smile. Guess I wasn't fast enough.

Mira let out a laugh beside her. "Classic Zoey," she said before taking off after her, who was waving like a kid at recess.

Rumi shook her head fondly... then followed them.

You turned at the sound of your name— Only to be tackled by a force so strong, you nearly lost your footing.

"Argh—!" You stumbled back, arms flailing slightly. "It's nice to meet you too, Zoey," you muttered with a breathless laugh, exhaling sharply.

Zoey giggled, clinging to you for a moment longer before finally letting go. "I missed you soooo much!"

Before you could fully recover, another pair of arms draped around your shoulders.

"Long time no see, stranger," Mira teased with a grin, leaning in casually. "We didn't forget about you, y'know."

You looked at her, eyes holding more than your smile let on. "Neither did I," you said softly, the words slipping out with a hesitant warmth.

Rumi finally stepped forward, her voice gentle. "Yuna..."

You held her gaze for a second too long... then nodded quietly and glanced away, pretending to look elsewhere.

Rumi's smile faltered, her eyes dropping to the ground in quiet disappointment.

Mira and Zoey exchanged a glance, the tension between you two clear as day.

"Please follow me," you said, turning sharply. "We need to get you settled. Your outfits are already prepared at the venue."

You started walking without waiting for a reply.

Zoey leaned in toward Rumi, whispering just loud enough, "She's still cold around you..."

Rumi groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Ugh. I noticed."

Mira scoffed and gave Rumi a playful shove. "Then what are you waiting for? Go get her, girl."

Rumi didn't waste a second. She bolted ahead, catching up to you in quick strides.

"YUNAA! Please! Don't ignore me forever!" she whined dramatically, tugging at your sleeve with the most exaggerated puppy eyes she could muster.

You glanced sideways at her—completely unfazed.

"I'm not," you said coolly.

"Is it because I ate all your—"

"Don't even," you warned before she could finish.

A few steps behind, Zoey and Mira watched with amused grins as the two of you continued your bickering.

"Yeah," Zoey said with a laugh. "They're doing fine."

Mira crossed her arms, smirking. "They just need a little push."

"I can still buy you one!"

"Those were limited edition."

______

Inside the plane, the four of you—Huntrix, plus you—were huddled together on a plush couch in the private cabin. The girls were already dressed in their performance outfits, the ones you had designed just for this night.

A small table in front of you was piled high with food and snacks—practically a feast. The trio surrounded it like starving wolves, while you sat calmly beside Rumi, sipping on a can of soda.

"Okay," Rumi said with a bright smile, her eyes sparkling, "this is our biggest show yet."

"The most songs," Zoey added with an excited nod.

"The most moves," Mira chimed in, her voice brimming with confidence.

"Which means—" Rumi declared, raising a finger dramatically, "—the most carb-loading!"

"FOR THE FANS!!" the three shouted in perfect unison, fists in the air.

Startled by the sudden burst of energy, you blinked at them, unamused.

"...Please just try not to stain the clothes," you said flatly, watching as they descended upon the food like beasts released from a cage.

"I need at least 10,000 calories to survive tonight's choreo," Rumi mumbled through a mouth full of gimbap, her tone oddly serious.

"A thousand percent! A gajillion percent!!" Mira agreed enthusiastically, cheeks puffed out as she attempted to eat an entire skewer in one bite.

You grimaced. "That's not even a real number, Mira."

Before you could finish your sentence, a piece of gimbap was suddenly shoved near your face.

"Come on, Yuna! Eat with us!!" Zoey cheered, grinning like she'd just solved world peace.

You stared at her blankly. She wasn't backing down.

She hit you with her ultimate weapon—those pleading, sparkling puppy eyes.

You sighed in defeat. "Fine..."

"YAYYYY!" Zoey squealed, practically bouncing in her seat.

Rumi gawked. "Wait—how come her puppy eyes work and mine didn't?!"

You took a bite of gimbap and answered flatly, "Because hers don't come with dramatic whining."

"Hey!!" 

Rumi grabbed a whole gimbap and shoved it into her mouth in one go—only to immediately start choking.

Your eyes widened slightly in alarm. Without a word, you handed her your soda.

"Geez, here."

She snatched it and chugged the entire can before slumping back with a relieved sigh. "Thanks..."

"I didn't say you could finish the whole thing," you frowned, eyeing the now-empty can in her hands.

You leaned back into the couch, arms crossed, quietly watching the trio devour their food like they hadn't eaten in days. Still, you couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on you.

Nervous glances. Little peeks. A shared tension in the room they thought you wouldn't notice.

"Okay!" Rumi suddenly announced with renewed energy, breaking the moment. "Time for our pre-game ramyeon!"

She proudly held up four cup noodles, handing one to Mira, Zoey, and finally—you.

"I didn't ask for o—" You paused when you noticed the label.

It was Rumi's Ramyeon. 

You raised a brow, expression unreadable.

"Happy fans, happy Honnmoon!" the three sang in perfect harmony, clinking their ramyeon cups together like champagne glasses.

You looked down at yours.

"...There's no water," you deadpanned.

All three froze.

Then slowly looked down at their cups... Still bone dry.

Their faces turned pouty at the realization.

You glanced over to the flight attendant nearby, who was currently pouring hot coffee into a flower pot with all the seriousness in the world.

"Excuse me, miss?" Rumi called out to the flight attendant, who flinched mid-step.

"Y-Yes, Miss Hunter...Ix?" the attendant replied with a strained smile and oddly stiff movements.

"We asked for hot water—" Rumi began, but was immediately cut off.

"Right away. You're welcome. Arrivederci. Goodbye," the woman blurted all at once before speed-walking away like her life depended on it.

You blinked slowly. 'Do they think we're that dumb...?'

Before you could say anything, your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen—Bobby.

Without a word, you held out the phone to Rumi, who grabbed it with excitement.

"Hey, Bobby!!" she beamed.

"Hi, Bobby!" Zoey joined in, leaning closer.

"Yeah, hi—what are you doing?" Bobby's voice strained over the background noise: booming music, screaming fans, and the unmistakable chaos of a packed concert venue.

"About to eat our pre-show ramyeon," Rumi grinned wide, holding up the still-dry cup like a trophy.

Zoey nodded with puffed cheeks, still chewing like a chipmunk. "Mmhm!"

"Pre-show? What about the show-show?" Bobby raised a brow—and then turned his camera around.

Thousands of people filled the stadium seats, all screaming, waving lightsticks, and chanting their names.

You nearly choked on your soda.

"H-Hey—!!" you sputtered, just as Bobby's phone was snatched by a group of squealing fans.

"WE LOVE YOU!!" a chorus of girls screamed at the camera.

"Oh my gosh—we love you too!" Rumi, Mira, and Zoey squealed back, waving like they were on a variety show, trying to fit all their faces into the frame.

You, sandwiched right in the middle, tried to lean out of view.

"...Guys, you're squishing me."

"YUNA, WE LOVE YOU!!"

You froze. Surprisingly, they know you. 

The phone had been passed to a group of crying grown men, tears running down their cheeks as they sobbed into the camera.

You blinked slowly.

"...Why are they crying?"

"BECAUSE YOU'RE ALL AMAZING!!" one of them wailed.

Rumi, Zoey and Mira immediately burst into tears, reaching for the screen as if they could hug the crying fans through the phone.

You sat there, utterly trapped between your three crying bandmates.

The phone was snatched again—this time by some dude yelling, "Yo! I just got this!!"

He yanked up his shirt and revealed a bold tattoo: 'HUNTRIX' in massive block letters, inked inside a heart right across his ribs.

You grimaced. Zoey and Rumi recoiled.

Mira, on the other hand, gasped in admiration. "SICK!!"

Then the guy squinted at the screen, tone flipping from proud to panicked.

"Gimme that—why are you guys so late?!"

"Late?" you all said at once.

You glanced out the window—and froze.

The stadium was miles away now. Fading farther by the second.

"You've got to be kidding me," you muttered, groaning into your hand.

"Fifty thousand fans are waiting for you!" Bobby's voice came back, sounding more desperate now. "They made signs, for crying out loud! The cute kind with lights and hearts! How can you be late?! Ohh, I wish you were here!"

Rumi, narrowing her eyes, slowly turned to the flight attendant—still lovingly pouring hot coffee into the same poor flower pot.

Zoey shoved more chips in her mouth.

"I didn't even get to finish my ramyeon," Mira muttered, glaring at her cup like it betrayed her.

"Why do they always interrupt our snacking?" Rumi whined.

"They will face my wrath!!" Zoey howled dramatically, cheeks puffed full.

You calmly sipped your Coke, silently bracing yourself.

Rumi stood up, brushing crumbs off her jacket, and strolled over to the attendant like a pop star with zero patience left.

"Umm. Excuse me?"

"Please take your seat, Miss," the attendant replied, tone clipped and artificial.

Rumi deadpanned. "Yeah, no. We don't have time for this."

Then, blunt as ever: "You're demons, right?"

The attendant flinched. "W-Whatever do you mean?"

"Pu-lease," Rumi rolled her eyes. "You're smiling like a possessed porcelain doll, watering your plant with coffee, and those guys back there?"

Clearly pointing out the others who are acting abnormally. 

"Ohhh, would you look at that?" Rumi said, voice dripping with mock surprise as she grabbed the attendant's wrist.

She yanked the sleeve up.

"Is that a pattern I see?"

A sharp gasp echoed around the cabin. Jagged, glowing purple marks twisted like thorns across the demon's arm, pulsing faintly beneath her skin.

The attendant froze—too late to hide it now.

Rumi leaned in, her voice low and smug.

Stomping down on her foot, the demon shrieked and immediately showed its demon form. 

"The rest of you come out! we're in a hurry!" Rumi commanded tapping her foot impatently as she galred at the remaining hidden Demons. 

Zoey and Mira stepped up beside Rumi, their faces serious now—but still tinged with excitement. Meanwhile, you stayed on the couch, calmly sipping your soda like none of this chaos concerned you.

"Oh, you've got the patterns," Rumi said dryly, eyes narrowing as a massive red demon emerged from the pilot's cabin.

"Now you gotta die," Mira added flatly, arms crossed.

"The only ones dying tonight are you—" the demon began, only to be interrupted by a sudden, violent burp from Mira. She quickly slapped a hand over her mouth.

The demon blinked. "Uh... anyway, the only ones dying to—"

"BUUURRRRP!" This time it was Rumi, soda-powered and unbothered, rubbing her belly with a proud sigh.

"Oh, that's the spot."

"Excuse me—what??"

"YOUR FANS!!" he roared, face contorting in rage. "We're gonna eat your precious fans!!"

"Whoa—" "Hey, yeah, nope." "Absolutely not," Zoey chimed in, her voice dropping in warning.

Rumi's expression hardened, her smirk returning. "Not our fans."

"When you mess with our fans..." Zoey began.

"We make it hurt," Mira growled, cracking her knuckles like a warning bell.

You lazily glanced up from your phone, voice as monotone as ever. "Go, hunters."

Rumi looked back at you briefly, a frown flickering across her face—not out of irritation, but as if searching for something more from you.

Then she turned forward again, her eyes now locked on the demons.

"Let's end this."

_______________________· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·_____________________

[mimiu3usoft]

Broken Glass | 0 ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ

The night is quiet. Everyone should be asleep—or at least working in peace.

But even silence can lie.

Chaos still stirs. Hidden behind walls, deep beneath the earth.

Demons that devour souls— Lurking. Waiting. For the perfect moment to strike And feast on the innocent.

But their tactics are old now. Predictable. Weak.

One by one, they fall.

The Demon Hunters arrive, right on time. Still sworn to protect. Still standing. Still fighting.

From the shadows, they rise— Tearing through the darkness with blades of light And unwavering resolve.

The world may see them as pop stars.

But they are much more than that.

They are hunters.

______

Hunters are meant to come in threes— Three voices that sing in harmony, Three souls bound by purpose.

Since the beginning, it has always been three.

And now, there are still three... But one stands apart.

In the shadows, she waits. Silent. Still.

To protect. To fight. To guard.

She answered a call no one made, Took up a burden no one saw.

And because of her, The world still sleeps in peace.

______

She doesn't belong in the shadows. But she chooses to stay there.

The darkness wasn’t her destiny— It was her decision.

_______________________· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·_____________________

A/n: I do hope you like it T T;

[mimiu3usoft]

ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ɢʟᴀꜱꜱ, ᴷᴾᴼᴾ ᴰᵉᵐᵒⁿ ᴴᵘⁿᵗᵉʳ

"ᴵⁿ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᶜʳᵃᶜᵏ, ᵃ ʳᵉᶠˡᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ; ⁱⁿ ᵉ���ᵉʳʸ ˢʰᵃʳᵈ, ᵃ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ. ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗʸ ᵒᶠ ᵇʳᵒᵏᵉⁿ ᵍˡᵃˢˢ."

Once a pop star, now a co-manager for her childhood friend's career-Huntrix had fallen far from the stage she once ruled. Her past was a blur of mistakes, shame, and battles fought in silence. She danced in the dark, though she was always meant for the light. Her voice was unlike any other-haunting, powerful, unforgettable. But the light she carried cast strange shadows, and behind her glow lingered a history still unresolved.

_______________________· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·_____________________

Chapters: 0| Prologue 1| This is how its done 2| How its done 3| Demon boy band 4| Take the time 5| I'm still here 6| Soda pop ✨ 7| Pathetic 8| 9|

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Wattpad: @Softswirls_23

[mimiu3usoft]

Girlies...we gotta save!!! we gotta get MERMAN RAFAYEL! shed blood, sweat and tears (literally will cry because of the story-)

Me im f##ked, i only have 7500-

Good luck yall, and good luck to me (┬┬﹏┬┬) i dont have any limited myth like for real. I need this please give me this. I MADE A RAFAYEL CROCHET PLS- I WILL MAKE A MERMAN ONE IF I GET HIM

[mimiu3usoft]

BRUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I can't, I didn't save much for XAVIER! (Lumiere-) GOODDAMMIT!!

[mimiu3usoft]

IT'S OUT! ITS FREAKING OUT!!!! SYLUSSSS

Please lng lord! I BEG YOU!

[mimiu3usoft]

இ௰இ

TO HAVE A MAN LIKE ZAYNE! MY TURN, MC!!!

[mimiu3usoft]

Hello! I love your writing! I was wondering.. would it be possible to request a sequel to Bitter for all the guys? The angst really got me good, but an end Where they see the Reader move on, whether it be with another LI or another person. Those sorts of fics soothe the angst for me even if they don’t end up together again.

Sour

Pt.1

PAIRING: Love and Deepspace men x non-mc!reader

SYNOPSIS: A year has slipped through your fingers like sand, carrying away the sharp edges of bitterness— or so you thought. Yet, the past has a cruel way of resurfacing, and when you stand before your former lover once more, the question lingers: has time truly softened the wound, or does resentment still simmer beneath your skin?

A/N: A lot of you guys asked for a sequel, and I must say - I'm so greatful for all of your support. It feels unreal, knowing that so many people enjoy my writing and get engaged in it. I tried to include every suggestion you gave me in some way. It ended up quite long, because I wanted to make sure they suffer. I really hope it's up to your liking, enjoy!

Xavier

A year had passed—one carved from sorrow, stitched with bitterness. Betrayal, mistrust, insecurities—every fracture in your heart laid bare, every ugly truth dragged into the light.

And yet, in some quiet, inexplicable way, you were grateful.

Grateful for the clarity, for the stripping away of illusions, for the lesson that love—no matter how fervent—could not thrive on longing alone. You had spent so much time searching for a deeper meaning, convincing yourself there had to be one. But sometimes, the truth was simple. Painfully, mercilessly simple.

He hadn’t chosen you.

There had been texts, calls, attempts at conversation. Words typed and deleted, ringing phones you never answered. You knew his tactics too well—the pleading eyes, the soft-spoken apologies, the way he’d paint his regret with honeyed words. But you had learned. This time, you refused to fall.

And so, the city became a vast and empty place, void of Xavier’s shadow. No accidental encounters, no glimpses of golden hair in a crowded street. It was as if the universe had granted you mercy, shielding you from the ghost of what could have been.

And with time, bitter turned to sour. Sour softened into something gentler, something warm. Until one day, you woke up and found yourself unburdened.

You were thriving.

A promotion at work. New friends. Doors opening where once there had only been walls. It was almost absurd, how small your world had been, how much of yourself you had given away for the sake of love that was never truly yours.

Because in the end, one heartbreak wasn’t the end of the world.

And when you finally let yourself step forward, the idea of meeting someone new no longer felt like a betrayal of your past self. It was slow at first—hesitant, uncertain—but why should someone else pay the price for wounds they never inflicted?

You were seeing someone. The phrase alone felt foreign on your tongue, strange in your mind. But it was real. It was different. No silent doubts, no waiting for the inevitable unraveling. Just laughter. Just affection. Just love, in the simplest, most effortless form.

You were distracted by happiness.

And maybe that was why fate decided to test you.

The bell above the café door chimed, a familiar sound that had never meant anything—until now. Until the moment you met a gaze you once knew better than your own.

Blue. Icy, calculating, flickering with disbelief.

Xavier.

He looked different. Sharper somehow, but worn. Dark circles framed those piercing eyes, his golden hair a little unkempt, a crease forming between his brows. There was no laughter in his expression, no easy charm. Just silence—thick, heavy, laced with something you couldn’t name.

Like he was seeing a ghost.

Like, after all this time, he still wasn’t sure if you were real.

He stood from his table, slow and careful, as if you might vanish if he moved too quickly. You straightened your posture, steeling yourself.

"Y/N..."

Your name left his lips like a prayer. Soft. Tentative. As if he didn’t deserve to say it.

And maybe he didn’t.

Still, you had promised yourself you’d be better than bitterness. That you wouldn’t let the past sink its claws into you.

So you smiled. Small, polite, but distant. "Xavier. Long time no see."

Something flickered in his expression, fleeting but unmistakable. Hurt.

"Yeah," he echoed, glancing down for a moment, hands curling into fists before he exhaled, gathering himself. "Long time no see."

A pause. A heavy, unspoken weight settling between you.

And then—"Would you sit with me?" His voice was quieter now, more hesitant. "Just for a little while? I won’t... I won’t nag you, I swear." A ghost of a smile barely touched his lips.

For a moment, you considered.

Curiosity stirred—how had he been? How had life treated him? And yet, you knew better. You had spent too long craving answers that would never change the past. The Xavier who stood before you was not yours to worry about. Not anymore.

So you inhaled slowly, steadying your heart, and said simply, "I don’t think there’s anything left to talk about."

Blunt. Honest. Kind, but final.

And for once, you didn’t feel guilty for choosing yourself.

The bell rang again, the door swinging open, and warmth enveloped you as familiar arms wrapped around your waist, a kiss pressed to your cheek.

"Love," a voice murmured, teasing and light. "You always make me chase after you." They laughed, and you did too, the sound effortless.

Your partner turned, glancing at Xavier with mild curiosity. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Nothing at all," you assured, slipping your fingers into theirs, warmth meeting warmth. "Let’s go."

And as you walked away, hand in hand with the person who had mended what Xavier broke, you didn’t look back.

But he did.

Xavier stood frozen, watching as you disappeared into the city, just as he had let you slip through his fingers once before.

And this time, there was no note left behind. No final words.

Only silence.

And the weight of a mistake he could never undo.

...

But it seemed fate was not yet finished with him. Seeing you again was a wound torn open, an ache that refused to fade. Xavier realized, with the kind of clarity that arrives too late, that he couldn’t let you go.

Not without trying.

And it didn’t matter that you belonged to someone else now—desperation made a man reckless. He would settle for anything. A glance, a word, a sigh in his direction. Proof that he had not become a ghost in your memory.

So he searched. Called. Texted. Every message fell into silence, his words lost to the void. He wandered through the places you once loved, only to find them hollow, emptied of your presence. It was as if you had evaporated, leaving no trace behind.

But then—when he finally found you, sitting on a weathered park bench beneath the fading gold of an autumn sky—his breath hitched. You looked different. Not just in the way time shapes a person, but in the way peace does. It softened you, made you untouchable.

He hesitated. He didn’t want to startle you, didn’t want to seem like a desperate man chasing shadows. But wasn’t that exactly what he was? Obsessed, haunted, unraveling beneath the weight of his own mistakes.

And then you looked at him.

His heart stuttered. Your eyes—once a universe he had called home—held no welcome for him now. There was recognition, yes. But it was distant, indifferent. A ghost of a smile graced your lips, polite but hollow, and something inside him withered.

"I need to talk to you," he rasped, his voice raw from all the words he had never said.

You tilted your head, considering him in that quiet, unreadable way. Then, with a small sigh, you gestured to the empty space beside you. An invitation—not of warmth, but of duty. Perhaps you felt he deserved the clarity he had never given you.

He sat, feeling like a man standing at the edge of a cliff.

"I have no right to ask for forgiveness," he confessed, staring down at his hands as if the answers were etched into his skin. "I know that. But I feel... lost. Lost without you guiding me."

There was silence, heavy as the twilight creeping in around you. And then—

"What’s done is done." Your voice was steady, like the final toll of a bell. "You’re right—some things can’t be forgiven. And actions have consequences. I’ve moved on, Xavier. And you should, too. That’s the only clarity I can give you."

Your words struck like a blade, precise and inescapable. He had braced himself for anger, for screams, for the fury he knew he deserved. But instead, you looked at him with nothing but pity.

And that—God, that was worse.

"Y/N, please," he choked out, his resolve crumbling. "Just give me a chance. I’ll do anything. Anything."

He fell to his knees before you, the weight of his regret pressing him into the earth. Once, he had stood tall beside you. Now, he knelt at your feet, pleading for the remnants of something he had destroyed with his own hands.

You blinked, surprise flickering across your face before you exhaled softly. "I’m happily taken…" The words were gentle, but firm. And then, the final blow—"Engaged, actually."

You lifted your hand, and in the dimming light, the diamond on your finger gleamed like the last star in a dying sky.

Xavier’s breath left him in a ragged gasp. No. No, this couldn’t be real.

"Please—" He reached for you, his hands trembling, his world tilting beneath him. "I can’t do this without you."

You smiled then, and for the first time that evening, it was real. Soft, kind, but completely out of reach.

"I’m afraid that’s none of my business anymore."

You rose to your feet, turning away from him, your figure bathed in the golden light of a world that no longer had room for him. He watched, helpless, as you walked away—each step sealing his fate, each breath pulling you further from his grasp.

And when you disappeared beyond the trees, he realized the cruelest truth of all.

Some mistakes don’t come with second chances.

Zayne

A year.

A year since you had stood in the ruins of what you once called love, waiting for something—anything—to make sense. Since the walls of your world had collapsed beneath the weight of neglect, since the name Dr. Zayne had burned like acid on your tongue.

And yet, look at you now.

Thriving.

You had carved out a life that was entirely your own, no longer bending yourself into smaller, more convenient shapes to fit into someone else’s world. Your career—once just a dream, a hesitant whisper in the back of your mind—had become your reality, a space where your talents were not only recognized but celebrated. Your relationships flourished, no longer strained by the quiet loneliness of waiting for a man who always seemed just out of reach.

The girl who once sat by the phone, heart aching for a call that never came, was gone.

And yet, the ghosts of Zayne still lingered.

The recipe he once taught you? You still loved it, the taste laced with a bittersweet nostalgia. The song he always played while driving? Occasionally, you let it slip through your speakers, if only to remind yourself how far you had come. The pain of his absence had dulled into something quieter—no longer a gaping wound, but a faded scar.

You had learned to appreciate what his neglect had taught you.

Because he had shown you exactly what love wasn’t.

And now, you knew better.

...

It was supposed to be an ordinary evening.

Your partner—warm, steady, everything you had once begged for—had suffered a minor accident. Nothing dire, but enough to warrant a hospital visit, just to be sure. And so you stood there, waiting near the reception desk, arms crossed over your chest, glancing at the fluorescent glow of the overhead lights. The air smelled of antiseptic and sterile linens, the faint beeping of monitors a rhythmic pulse in the background.

And then—

You felt it before you saw it.

A gaze. Heavy. Familiar.

You turned.

And there he was.

Dr. Zayne.

For a moment, the world seemed to shrink, narrowing down to the space between you and him. He looked... different. Or maybe it was you who had changed. His sharp, professional composure remained, but there was something wearier about him now. The pristine white coat did little to hide the exhaustion beneath his eyes, the slight furrow of his brows, the way he adjusted his glasses in that meticulous way of his.

And yet, despite it all—he was still devastatingly familiar.

"Y/N?"

Your name fell from his lips like a habit he had forgotten he missed.

There was something almost startled in his expression, as if he hadn’t expected to see you here, hadn’t expected you at all.

"Did something happen? Are you hurt?" He was already stepping forward, concern etched into every line of his face.

There was a time when that look would have unraveled you. When your heart would have stuttered at the mere thought of being the center of his attention.

Now, it felt… strange.

Performative.

Not because you thought he was faking it—Zayne never faked anything—but because it no longer mattered.

You blinked, taken aback for a brief moment before schooling your features into something unreadable.

"I'm alright."

A pause.

Why did he sound as if he had just seen you yesterday? As if a year of silence had not stretched between you like an ocean?

Why was he looking at you like that?

And why—why did it still taste bitter?

His gaze flickered over you, searching for something, before he spoke again, his voice softer this time. "Then why are you here?"

You raised an eyebrow.

"Actually, it’s none of my business," he amended quickly, clearing his throat, adjusting his glasses again—nervous. Zayne never used to be nervous around you.

"But since you’re here," he continued, voice carefully composed, "perhaps we could talk? If you wouldn’t mind, of course."

There was something almost hesitant in his tone. Like he was reaching for something he wasn’t sure he had the right to ask for.

And before you could decide how to respond—

A warmth wrapped around you.

"Sorry I kept you waiting, baby."

A familiar voice. Soft lips pressed against your temple. A presence that felt like home.

Your partner.

Zayne went still.

You didn’t even need to look at him to know. You could feel it—the way the air between you turned sour, thick with something unspoken, something unacknowledged.

You turned to face your lover, melting into the easy affection they offered, their touch grounding you in a way Zayne’s never had.

"Is that your friend?" your partner asked curiously, glancing at Zayne with polite indifference.

You tilted your head, considering the question.

Friend?

No, that wasn’t quite right.

You let out a soft giggle, shrugging as you intertwined your fingers with theirs. "I guess?"

And then—without another glance, without another word—you turned, walking away.

Zayne remained where he stood, unmoving, silent.

He didn’t call after you. Didn’t reach out.

Because he knew.

He knew that if he had any place in your life, it would have been beside you, not behind you—watching as you disappeared into a world that no longer included him.

And now, the only thing he had left—

Was the taste of regret, bitter and lingering on his tongue.

...

Bitterness clung to Zayne like the aftertaste of a drink too strong, too sharp. And so, he sought sweetness in the only way he knew how—in thoughts of you.

Your touch, the gentle weight of your hand on his wrist. Your voice, quiet yet commanding, soft yet certain. Your presence, steady as the tide, once an anchor, now a ghost.

He had spent too long convincing himself he could let you go. That logic could silence longing, that reason could tame regret. But then he saw you again.

And the moment he did, he knew.

You belonged by his side.

So, it began. A pattern. A ritual. Lingering in the places you once adored, slipping into the coffee shop you used to frequent, hoping—praying—that fate would grant him another moment.

And fate, cruel and kind in equal measure, did.

You were alone, sipping your drink, fingers lazily scrolling through your phone. Every now and then, the corners of your lips twitched into a smile—small, fleeting, devastating. Zayne felt something in his chest splinter.

He wanted to be the reason for that smile again.

With a breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding, he stepped forward, lowering himself into the seat across from you.

"Y/N."

Your name left his lips like a confession, quiet, careful.

You lifted your gaze, expression unreadable, an eyebrow arching slightly at his sudden presence. But no shock. No warmth.

That alone made doubt creep in. But it was too late to turn back now.

"...That’s unexpected," you said, returning your attention to your phone. "I thought you didn’t like this café."

His lips curved, but there was no humor in it. "I don’t," he admitted, adjusting his glasses with practiced ease. "But I find myself drawn to places that remind me of you. Old habits die hard, it seems."

A pause. Then—

"Nice."

Nothing more. Not a smile, not a flicker of interest. Just a word, impersonal and distant, slipping from your lips with all the weight of an afterthought.

It caught him off guard. He hadn’t expected warmth, but this? This felt like standing outside in the cold, staring at a window where a fire once burned.

Still, he pressed forward.

"So," he began, voice smooth yet hesitant. "Have you been well?"

"Cut the small talk."

Your voice was calm, but your patience was thin, and when your eyes met his again, he saw it—exhaustion. The kind that settles after a storm, after too many words left unspoken for too long.

"What do you want, Zayne?"

He exhaled slowly, as if composing himself. "I see time has made you even more direct," he mused, before his gaze darkened, sharpened. "Very well. I won’t insult you with pleasantries. I came because I needed to speak with you—about us."

A flicker of something crossed your face, too fast for him to name. And then—

"There is no ‘us,’ Zayne."

Your words were soft, but they struck harder than a shout.

"We didn’t work out," you continued, your voice steady, final. "It happens. Move on."

His fingers curled against the table, the faintest twitch of his jaw betraying the emotion he so carefully masked.

"You make it sound so simple," he murmured, tilting his head slightly. "As if what we were—what we could have been—was nothing more than an inconsequential mistake."

"Not a mistake," you corrected. "A lesson."

He laughed then, low and humorless. "I see. And what exactly did I teach you?"

"That love is not enough."

It was cruel in its honesty. Devastating in its simplicity.

He looked away for a moment, staring at the swirl of steam rising from your drink, as if it held the answers he sought. Then, quieter this time, he said, "And yet, I find myself incapable of learning that lesson."

You didn’t respond. You only stood, preparing to leave.

That was when he reached for you.

Fingers wrapping around your wrist—gentle, hesitant, desperate. And in that moment, neither of you spoke.

Because you both felt it.

The ghost of what once was. The warmth of a memory neither had fully let go of.

His grip loosened, but he did not let go.

"Tell me," he said, voice softer now, raw in a way he had never allowed himself to be. "Is this truly the end?"

Your gaze met his, unwavering.

And then you nodded.

A single motion. Firm. Certain. Unshakable.

He let you go.

And though every part of him rebelled against it, though his heart ached with the knowledge that he would wake tomorrow with the same longing, the same regret, he told himself it was enough.

Because if you were happy—if someone else had succeeded where he had failed—then who was he to ask for more?

At least, that’s what he tried to believe.

Rafayel

A year had passed.

The seasons had shifted, weaving through time like a quiet symphony, their passage marked by sun-warmed afternoons and frost-kissed mornings. Life had carried on, carrying you with it.

And somehow, somewhere between then and now, you had left him behind.

Not in a single, heart-wrenching moment, not in some grand, dramatic farewell. No, you had left him slowly—like the tide pulling back from the shore, retreating inch by inch, until one day you realized there was nothing left to reach for.

And you were okay with that.

More than okay.

You had built something new from the pieces of yourself he had never cherished. A life that felt like yours, untouched by the weight of waiting, unburdened by the ache of almost-love.

And you had found someone. Someone who didn’t make you wonder if you were asking for too much. Someone who reached for you first, without hesitation.

You never thought about him anymore.

Not really.

But fate had a cruel sense of humor.

Because today, just as laughter spilled from your lips like honey, warm and golden, just as your partner squeezed your hand in theirs, grounding, steady—

You saw him.

Rafayel.

Standing at the entrance of the café, half-cast in shadow, his sharp gaze locked onto you like a man seeing a mirage in the desert.

Your breath did not hitch.

Your pulse did not quicken.

If there was an ache left inside you, it was nothing more than an old scar—a faint reminder of pain you had long since learned to live without.

But he—

He looked frozen.

Like he had walked into a moment he wasn’t supposed to witness.

Like the sight of you—laughing, radiant, untouched by him—was something he had never considered possible.

You met his gaze, tilting your head slightly.

Oh.

He hadn’t changed much. Still dressed in purple tones, still holding himself with that same quiet confidence, still looking at you like he was searching for something.

But he had changed.

His face was unreadable, but his eyes—once filled with amusement, teasing, always dancing just out of reach—were darker now. Heavier.

You knew that weight.

Regret.

Good.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you was thick with things left unsaid, ghosts of words that once sat on the tip of your tongue, always swallowed before they could escape.

And then, finally, he spoke.

“Y/N.”

Your name on his lips used to feel like the start of something. A promise. A quiet, unspoken longing.

Now, it was just a name.

You blinked at him, offering a small, polite smile—the kind you gave to distant acquaintances, to strangers who mistook familiarity for significance.

“Oh,” you said, as if realizing he was there for the first time. “Rafayel.”

The casualness in your voice was deliberate.

His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture did—just the slightest shift, just enough for you to know he felt it.

“It’s been a while,” he said.

It had.

A lifetime had passed in that year.

“Yes, it has.”

You didn’t ask him how he was. Didn’t give him the opening he was waiting for.

The silence stretched between you, long enough to feel like a choice.

The café smelled of coffee and cinnamon, of sugar melting into warm pastries, but the only thing you could taste was clarity—light, crisp, sweet.

Then—

“Who’s this?”

Your partner’s voice, gentle yet firm, cut through the stillness.

You turned to them, your gaze softening the moment it met theirs.

And that—that was what made Rafayel’s breath hitch.

The way you looked at them.

The way you had never looked at him.

“They’re an old friend,” you said simply.

Not a lover.

Not someone who had once left you waiting in the dark, sifting through the scraps of his affection, trying to find something whole.

Just someone you used to know.

And you knew he heard the finality in your voice.

For a second, just a fleeting second, something flickered in his expression.

Loss.

Too little, too late.

You turned back to your partner, your fingers still laced with theirs.

The conversation resumed. Effortless. Unbroken.

And Rafayel—who had once believed you would always be there, lingering like an unfinished story—stood there, realizing he had become nothing more than a footnote in yours.

You didn’t look back.

And the only taste he was left with—

Was bitter.

...

Regret clung to Rafayel like salt on skin—persistent, inescapable, a reminder of tides that had long since receded.

And he remembered—oh, how he remembered.

The scent of your skin, like the last breath of summer before the waves stole the warmth away. The way your hair moved with the wind, as if it carried secrets only the ocean knew. The way your voice curled around his name, a siren’s call that had once lured him home.

How you understood him without words, how you indulged his recklessness, how—for once—someone had seen him for more than his name, his face, his fortune.

He still knew your favorite color, the way your smile tilted just slightly to the left, how every imperfection only made you more devastatingly perfect in his eyes.

And he couldn’t forget.

He tried, but he was a drowning man, reaching for driftwood, for anything that could bring him back to shore. So, he watched from a distance, fingers hovering over your name on his screen, refreshing, searching. Checking where you were, who you were with, what you were doing.

Love makes fools of men. But obsession—obsession turns them into ghosts.

And when he had mapped the rhythm of your days, he found himself drifting into them. Hovering at the edges of your world, waiting for the perfect moment to pull you back into his gravity.

When it finally happened, he caught you off guard.

You were walking, earphones in, humming a tune under your breath, lost in a world where he no longer belonged.

His hand found your shoulder.

Startled, you swung your bag on instinct, and it hit him square in the arm. He winced, clutching it dramatically.

“Ow, cutie! First, you break my heart, and now you try to break my arm?” His grin was lopsided, but his eyes betrayed him—searching, desperate.

You barely spared him a glance before rolling your eyes, turning away.

“No—wait.” His fingers caught your wrist, hesitant but firm.

You turned back, leveling him with a stare. "What? Want to get hit again?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, but it faltered under the weight of your indifference. He exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple.

"I would much rather prefer just to talk to you." His voice softened, no longer laced with teasing, but something closer to pleading.

Then, quieter—more deliberate—

“Y/N, take me back.”

You blinked. For a moment, silence stretched between you, the space between each breath vast as the horizon.

Then, you took a step back. And he felt the distance like an undertow, dragging him deeper.

“Absolutely not.”

There was no anger in your voice, no bitterness. Just finality, as gentle as a wave washing over forgotten footprints in the sand.

His throat bobbed. “…No?”

"You heard me."

His fingers twitched at his sides. “Cutie, please reconsider—”

“Oh god, don’t call me that.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, sighing.

He hesitated, but then his gaze turned serious, the teasing stripped away. “I know I made mistakes—”

“You broke us, Rafayel.”

His breath caught. The truth of it cut through him like cold water, merciless and clear.

“Y/N.” His voice was lower now, quiet in a way that made the world around you feel too loud. “I know I ruined things, but you can’t tell me we weren’t great. You can’t tell me what we had wasn’t—”

“It was.” You interrupted, your expression unreadable. “Until it wasn’t.”

Something inside him cracked.

"I've moved on," you said simply, shifting your bag over your shoulder. And then, with a ghost of a smirk—mocking, cruel in its lightness—

"You should too, fishie."

It should have made him laugh. It should have made him tease you back, call you something equally ridiculous.

Instead, it felt like the tide pulling him under.

He said nothing, only watching you, searching your face for something—anything—that might mean he still had a chance.

And then you turned.

He caught your wrist again, more desperately this time. “Tell me,” he murmured, voice unsteady. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Do you want to see me on my knees?”

You looked at him then, really looked at him.

"I just want to see you out of my sight."

The words landed like crashing waves against stone.

His grip loosened, and you slipped away like water through his fingers.

"Have a great life, Rafayel."

And you walked away.

He should have followed. Should have thrown pride to the wind, should have fallen at your feet and begged like a desperate sailor praying to the sea.

But something in your voice—calm, unwavering—told him the storm had passed. And all that was left was the wreckage.

So he stood still.

And for the first time, he let you drift beyond his reach.

For now.

Sylus

A year had passed since you walked away from Sylus, but time had done nothing to erase the ache in your chest, nor the memory of how effortlessly you had disappeared from his life. You had left as silently as a forgotten dream, taking your heart with you, and leaving him behind to rot in the wreckage of his own actions. The decision had seemed like a balm in the moment, a clean cut. But as the days turned into months, the absence had become a ghost. It hovered in the corners of your mind, a constant reminder of the man you thought you knew, the man who had ruined you. And yet, despite it all, you had learned to live again.

You had rebuilt yourself, piece by broken piece. You embraced the ordinary—the quiet routine of your life, the peace that had once seemed so elusive when he was around. Your life was no longer tangled in the complexity of him. You began to explore things you never had the courage to before, tasting freedom in ways that filled you with pride. The world, without Sylus, was kinder—gentler. You smiled more, laughed more, and found comfort in the simplest of things: a cup of coffee on a rainy day, the soft rustle of leaves underfoot in autumn, the glow of a sunset you hadn’t shared with anyone. You had learned to live for yourself.

And yet, somewhere in the back of your mind, a part of you still wondered what he was doing.

The knock at your door shattered the quiet peace you had so carefully built.

You hadn’t expected visitors—especially not him.

Standing there, on the other side of the threshold, was the man who had once been your whole world, the man who had broken it. Sylus.

His appearance was jarring. His usual immaculate self was ruffled, as though the weight of the world had been wearing on him in ways he never allowed anyone to see. His sharp features were drawn, eyes darker than you remembered. There was something unfamiliar in the way he held himself—no longer the man who walked into a room like he owned it, but someone who had been worn down by the passage of time, by regret. And yet, his eyes, the same eyes that had once mesmerized you, still held that magnetic pull. Only this time, they were haunted.

“Sylus,” you breathed, the name slipping out of you before you could stop it.

There was a moment of tense silence, where neither of you moved. And then, his lips parted—just slightly—and a flicker of something like amusement touched his face.

“Missed me, kitten?” His voice was smooth, but there was an unfamiliar hesitation there, something raw in the way he spoke to you.

You couldn’t tell if he was still playing games, or if this was something else entirely. You studied him for a long moment, trying to read him, trying to figure out why, after everything, he still seemed so... familiar.

But you no longer cared.

The words came out before you even thought them. “What are you doing here?” Your voice was soft, there was no venom, no fury. Only confusion. And a quiet indifference that was worse than anything you could’ve said.

His gaze faltered for a second, but he quickly regained his composure, though his smirk was tighter than usual. “I thought you’d be more excited to see me.”

His words were like a knife to the gut, but you felt nothing—not anymore. It was like you had been hollowed out over time, and there was nothing left inside you to give.

You tilted your head slightly, eyes cool. “Ah, where are my manners?” You couldn’t help the sarcasm that slipped out, though it wasn’t playful—more a shield against the weight of his presence. “Oh, how I missed my favorite liar! The one who broke my heart and threw me away like a piece of trash.” You rolled your eyes, a bitter laugh escaping your lips.

The words should have stung, but somehow, you found relief in saying them out loud. For so long, you had kept the hurt buried beneath layers of careful silence, and now, here it was—raw, unapologetic.

Sylus’s face flickered, a faint shadow of hurt passing through his gaze before he regained his composure. “The kitten has grown some claws, I see.” His voice was flat, but there was a trace of something in it, something he was trying to mask.

He took a step closer, as if expecting you to let him in, but you quickly moved to block the door.

“Don’t,” you said simply.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised at your sudden resolve, but you didn’t care.

“You’re not welcome here,” you said, your tone final.

Sylus’s eyes softened for a split second, and in that brief moment, you saw the desperation that clawed at him. The weight of his regret that he never allowed to surface. “You’re hurting me, sweetie,” he said, though it was far from playful. It sounded like a plea.

Your heart didn’t twitch. It didn’t soften. It just felt... heavy.

“Good,” you muttered, looking him up and down, and for the first time, you saw him clearly—not the man you had once adored, but a man who had lost everything and had nothing left to offer.

Just then, a voice came from inside your home.

“Darling, what’s taking you so long?”

You didn’t need to look back to feel your partner’s arms slide around your waist from behind, their presence warm and secure, a reminder of the love you had found after him.

“Hmm, who’s this?” Your partner asked lazily, looking past you to the man who once consumed your every thought.

Sylus’s gaze hardened, his eyes narrowing as he sized up the newcomer, but you weren’t going to offer him any answers. Not anymore.

“He got the wrong address,” you replied evenly, your voice indifferent as you turned back to face Sylus, daring him to challenge your words.

And just like that, the man who once held your heart in his hands realized the weight of his own failure. The realization hit him like a tidal wave.

Sylus opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. His chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths, as if he were choking on his own grief.

You met his gaze, and for the first time, you felt no anger—only a quiet, final resolve. “I think it's time for you to leave, sir.”

The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. His heart, once so certain and confident, now shattered under the weight of your indifference.

“Have a good night.” you whispered, the finality of the words slipping from your lips. And with that, you closed the door on him—on the man you once thought you could never escape.

Sylus stood there, staring at the wood that now separated you from him, as though hoping it would open again. But it wouldn’t.

He swallowed, hard. The man who had always prided himself on his control was now nothing more than a broken shell of his former self.

And it was all his doing.

For the first time in his life, Sylus had lost. And he had no one to blame but himself.

...

Sylus was not the kind of man who accepted defeat.

Not when you were so close, so painfully out of reach, like a forbidden fruit dangling just beyond his grasp.

He couldn't—no, he wouldn't—let you go so easily.

His mind clung to thoughts of you, obsessions blooming in every corner of his brain: your laughter, like the chiming of delicate bells, your playful words that always teased, always challenged him, your defiance that had once felt like the spark that kept him alive. You had been his equal, his match—two stars circling in an orbit of shared chaos and fire.

But now? Now you were slipping from him, dissolving into someone else’s arms, and that realization felt like a knife being twisted into his chest. He couldn't bear it. He could never bear it.

Bitterness seeped into his soul, a slow, insidious poison that clouded his thoughts. The feeling of helplessness was foreign to him, suffocating him in ways he had never known before. He had always been the one in control—always the one who commanded the world. And now you were gone, out of his reach, and it tore at him like a storm.

The thought of another touching you, breathing in your scent, seeing the soft glow of tenderness in your eyes—Sylus couldn't abide it. No. Not when he had once owned that gaze, that touch, that part of you that was his.

He needed one more chance.

Maybe it was for the peace of his mind, maybe it was his selfish longing, his desire to reclaim what he believed was his. Or maybe it was because he couldn't let go of the idea that you were a treasure meant for his eyes alone—his to hold, his to keep, like a rare, delicate jewel locked away.

And so, like the predator he was, Sylus followed you, carefully, subtly. With Mephisto keeping watch over you, it was easy to know where you'd be, when you'd be there.

Each time, he approached, his presence lingering just at the edges of your world—watching, waiting. But you rejected him. Rejected him with biting sarcasm, with icy silence that seemed to pierce his skin like a thousand knives.

It drove him mad.

The chase was maddening. The only thing that consumed him was the desire to have you in his arms once more, to feel the heat of your skin, the sweetness of your breath, the intimacy that he had once thought was infinite.

And then one evening, when he could no longer take the ache, he made his move.

You were walking home from work, the weight of the day pressing down on your shoulders. The quiet satisfaction of surviving the day was tempered by the exhaustion that clung to you. But as you turned the corner, a hand suddenly grasped your wrist, yanking you into a shadowed alley. Your heart pounded in your chest, a burst of adrenaline flooding your veins. You opened your mouth to scream, but before the sound could escape, a hand pressed over your lips.

"Relax. It's just me."

His voice—his damn voice—sounded like a lure, familiar and dangerous. Your body froze, not out of fear, but out of recognition. You knew it was Sylus, and despite everything, despite the years of hurt and betrayal, a twisted part of you felt… safe.

When he felt you relax, he let go. You spun around to face him, heart still hammering, but now tempered with anger.

"You’re crazy," you spat, your voice sharp and unforgiving. "What do you think you’re doing?"

His gaze, that unnerving mix of calm and intensity, bore into you. His expression was disturbingly relaxed, too casual for someone who had just dragged you into an alley against your will.

"Getting your attention," he said, his tone smooth, almost mocking. "Seems like it worked."

The words hit you like a slap. Your fists clenched, your anger bubbling over.

"You can’t just pull people into a dark alley, Sylus! You’re actually insane!" You jabbed your finger at his chest, each word punctuating the fury that burned through you.

Sylus didn’t flinch, though you could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

"...I apologize," he said softly, his voice taking on a tenderness that was so unlike him. He reached out to touch your cheek, but his hand stopped halfway, as if he was still unsure whether he had the right.

The vulnerability in that simple motion—something so un-Sylus, so raw—stirred something inside you. Something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

You sighed heavily, the weight of everything pressing down on you. "What do you want?" Your voice was laced with frustration, your patience wearing thin.

"I thought that would be obvious by now," he said, a faint smirk curling at his lips, the teasing edge still present despite the darkness in his eyes. "Guess you’re not as sharp as I thought, kitten."

The bastard. Even now, he played with you like a cat with its prey.

"I swear, I’m going to file for a restraining order against you," you muttered, your voice tinged with disbelief.

"You can try," Sylus responded smoothly, his words dripping with a dangerous calm. "But you know well enough that such things won’t stop me."

You clenched your fists, your resolve hardening. The walls you had so carefully built around your heart in the past year came crashing down in a flood of anger and pain. You had moved on, healed—didn’t he see that?

"I want you to come back to me," he said, his voice now serious, his gaze earnest, though still haunted by the traces of his past mistakes.

But you wouldn’t crack. Not now.

"Never in this lifetime," you said, the finality of your words a heavy hammer to his chest.

Sylus’s lips twisted into a small, bitter smile. "Then, in another?" His words were light, but they carried a weight that you both felt. It was his way of hiding the hurt, the pain that had followed him like a shadow.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you let the silence hang between you, thick and suffocating.

"I’ll pray that I never have to meet you again," you said softly, the words filled with a quiet kind of sorrow. "Not in this life, and not in the ones after."

And with that, you turned, walking away from him, leaving him shattered in the cold, empty alley.

Sylus watched you go, his chest tight with regret. His heart—something he had long kept locked away, something he had never truly allowed himself to feel—was breaking in ways he had never imagined. The storm inside him raged, but he couldn’t stop it.

You were gone, and this time, he knew—he knew—there would be no coming back.

Caleb

It’s been a year since you last saw Caleb.

Well, not really. Sometimes you caught glimpses of him in the crowd—just a silhouette, a shape that might be his. Your heart would catch in your throat, and for a fleeting moment, you’d swear it was him. But the figure would turn, and it would be a stranger. Your imagination had been cruel to you, conjuring up ghosts from your memories and stitching together faces from your longing. Perhaps it was just your mind showing you what you wished to see, like a cruel twist of fate reminding you of what had slipped through your fingers.

A year filled with growth. You learned to be soft with yourself, to breathe through the pain instead of suffocating in it. You allowed yourself to be bitter—let the sadness claw through your chest and the anger burn through your veins. You let yourself crumble, and when the dust settled, you gathered the fragments and made something beautiful from them. A mosaic of healing. You thanked the universe for the lesson, no matter how brutal it had been. Whether it was God, fate, or simply the chaos of life, you accepted it. You learned that you were the only constant in your own story—the one thing that would always remain when everyone else faded to whispers.

In those months, you blossomed. You breathed in the world with new lungs, filling your soul with every small moment that once went unnoticed. The way sunlight painted golden patterns on cracked sidewalks, the way the ocean waves whispered secrets to the shore, the taste of ripe fruit on a sweltering day. You poured your energy into your work, rebuilt neglected friendships, and found comfort in the warmth of those who remained. You taught yourself that it wasn’t your fault—none of it had been—and that loving him too much was never a mistake. Only, you needed to love yourself first.

And when you finally felt steady enough to open your heart again, love found you. They were calm where Caleb had been chaos, steady where Caleb had been a storm. A lighthouse guiding you back to yourself, reminding you that love wasn’t meant to break you. Their hands held you like you were fragile, but their love made you feel strong. You didn’t compare them—Caleb was a different life, a different story. But maybe that’s what you needed. You were happy, genuinely happy, for the first time in what felt like ages.

The train station buzzes around you like a hive of restless energy, travelers weaving past each other with hurried steps and heavy bags. Your lover has gone to grab snacks for the journey, leaving you alone on the worn wooden bench. The air smells of old books and fresh coffee, tinged with the metallic scent of steel tracks. You lean back, glancing at the faded timetable, feeling content in the hum of life moving around you.

And then, like a phantom stepping through the fog of memory, you see him. Caleb. The world seems to stop spinning, frozen in that singular moment. He’s standing on the opposite platform, hands shoved into his coat pockets, head bowed as if weighed down by the past. A bitter wind pulls at his hair, and for a second, he lifts his gaze. Your breath catches as his eyes meet yours, recognition dawning like sunlight cutting through rain. He hesitates, lips parting, and you see the flicker of regret, raw and unguarded.

The hurt surges up unexpectedly, but it’s quieter than it used to be, muted by time and acceptance. You don’t flinch when he takes a hesitant step forward, his mouth opening as if to call out to you. A thousand words hang between you—apologies, confessions, explanations—but none seem to find their way into the open. You see the yearning in his eyes, the way he’s looking at you as if trying to remember every detail he once took for granted.

Your lover appears at your side, offering a small smile as they hand you a paper bag filled with snacks. Their presence grounds you, pulls you back to reality from the haze of memory. Caleb sees them too, and the pain that flashes across his face is like a knife carving regret into his bones. You watch as he realizes what he’s lost—how you’ve moved on, how you’ve found happiness that doesn’t depend on him.

He lingers there, stranded on the other side of the tracks, unable to cross over to where you stand. You almost pity him—the way his shoulders sag, the way his jaw clenches to swallow whatever plea was forming. But the ache that once ruled you has softened, transformed into something quieter. You’re not angry anymore. You’re not shattered. You’ve built something new from the ruins he left behind.

Caleb lowers his gaze, as if surrendering to the weight of his own choices. And as the train pulls into the station, you take your lover’s hand, intertwining your fingers like roots that hold you steady. You feel Caleb’s stare on your back as you step onto the train, but you don’t look back. There’s nothing left to see—just the remnants of a past that no longer defines you.

As the train moves away, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. It’s not triumph, not victory—it’s closure, as quiet and gentle as a sunset slipping beneath the horizon. You made it out the other side. And that, more than anything, is the proof that you are whole again.

...

But the peace you felt wasn’t the same for Caleb. Seeing you again after what felt like a lifetime was like being thrown into the depths of the ocean—lungs burning, heart pounding, utterly helpless. He hadn’t known he was drowning until he saw you sitting there, your feet dangling off the edge of the bench, lips parted in a soft “o” of surprise. You looked at him with that same curiosity, that gentle tilt of your head, and it struck him just how far away you felt—like a dream that had slipped through his fingers.

It wasn’t his place to feel this way. Not anymore. But he couldn’t help the ache that gnawed at his ribs, nor the desperate urge to reach out and pull you into his arms, to whisper apologies into your skin until his words sunk into your bones. Yet even from a distance, he could see how your shoulders were relaxed, your gaze steady and unburdened, and it only made the chasm between you widen.

When another person’s hands found your own, threading fingers together with the ease of familiarity, his heart cracked open—raw and aching. It wasn’t his business. He shouldn’t care. But he did. Too much. More than he thought he still could.

He wanted to run after you, to say something—anything. But what would he even say? That he missed you so much it hurt? That he had spent a year convincing himself he’d made the right choice, only to realize how profoundly wrong he’d been? It all felt pointless now, tangled in regret and longing.

Endless scenarios crashed through his mind like waves against rock, and somewhere in that turmoil, he decided he needed to speak to you—one last time. He needed your attention on him, just once more.

He waited for you outside your workplace, nerves coiling tighter with every second that passed. He wondered if you’d be angry—if you’d tell him to leave and never come back. But when you appeared, you only offered a small, polite smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You looked at him with the calm detachment of someone who had long since made peace with the past.

“Hey...” he murmured, forcing a boyish grin that looked so out of place on his troubled face. He rubbed the back of his neck, as if trying to wring out the nerves clinging to him.

You smiled again—gentle, unbothered, and heartbreakingly kind. “Hi.” Your voice was soft, like a memory he couldn’t quite grasp, and it was that tenderness—free from bitterness—that made his chest ache. He had prepared himself for anger, for hurt laced in your words. Instead, you were kind. You always had been, like a flower that bent but never broke, even under the harshest of storms.

“I was wondering if we could talk,” he said finally, hesitating as if the words themselves might shatter.

You didn’t move, just nodded your head. “Talk, then.” Your tone was steady, as if he was just another passerby in your life, not the storm that once tore it apart.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke, words stumbling over one another. “I guess... I didn’t realize how much I missed you—until I saw you at the station. I just—” He took a shaky breath. “I wanted to know if you’d ever consider forgiving me. For how foolish I was. For being so... selfish.” His eyes, those familiar, pleading puppy eyes, bore into yours, searching for a sliver of the past warmth.

You glanced at him, and he saw the flicker of something unreadable in your gaze before you answered. “Forgiveness is too much to ask for,” you replied softly, but your voice held a quiet strength that hadn’t been there before. “But I’ve learned to accept what happened. You should too, Caleb.”

His hands clenched at his sides, fighting the urge to reach out. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to accept it.”

You gave a sad, wistful smile, the kind that hurt more than any cruel words could have. “That’s on you,” you whispered, eyes glistening with a tenderness that had nothing to do with him anymore. “I’m happy now. I’ve built something beautiful out of the pieces you left behind. And I won’t let you take that from me.”

He lowered his head, unable to meet your gaze. “I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered.

Your smile faded, replaced by a quiet, unyielding resolve. “Intentions don’t erase consequences. Live a life without further regrets, Caleb.”

You didn’t wait for a response. You turned and walked away, each step decisive and unwavering, leaving him rooted to the spot—drowning in the knowledge that you were truly, undeniably gone.

And Caleb just stood there, feeling the hollow ache where your love used to be, realizing far too late that he had destroyed the only good thing he’d ever known.

@rubyrubyruuu / @browneyedgirl22 / @valentine-n-ragnarok / @whimsiecat / @esylwen / @crimsonmarabou / @we-rice-boi / @mitchelbr1 / @animegamerfox / @chgumji / @jeondyy / @rafayelridesfisheatsfish

[mimiu3usoft]

It might take a while for me to update, though, just a warning. I will place the link of each of them if you are interested.

May I also remind you that this is all a Non-Mc reader fic. And I plan on adding Evol to each of these if you are all okay with that.

The Glow Beneath the Tide

Love you, Losing Myself

Chains of Water, Heart of Fire