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mid-sweettalk · 4 months ago

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Someone Will Come Running - Chapter 2

Ship: Gelphie [Wicked]

Rating: M [future and past violence]

Chapters: 2/4

Summary: Galinda finds out some more about her roommate.

Read on Ao3

Chapter under the cut!

Things after that are decidedly… awkward.

Galinda isn’t quite sure how to conduct herself around her roommate, now that she knows they are technically a Match. It’s distractifying, to say the least, thinking about the whole situation. Galinda’s dreamed of finding her Match since she was a girl, dreamed of the life she would get to build with said person: a mansion in the Gillikin countryside, running an estate as the Lady of the house, two or three children to carry on the Upland name—because, of course, unless she landed royalty of some sort, whenever she married she would hyphenate if not have her husband take her last name.

That’s definitely another thing: Galinda had always very much assumed her Match would be a man. That’s simply… well, how it’s done. Sure, there might be other same-gender Matches, but she’d never thought that she’d be a part of one. How else would she continue the Upland line?

Things start inconveniently popping up in her head that make her Think.

How she’d have sleepovers with her school friends in secondary school and her cheeks would warm when said friends brazenly started changing clothes in front of her, even bouncing around half-dressed—Galinda had always done the proper thing and gone to a separate room. But she’d always thought that was why she’d been embarrassed—it was the impropriety of it all.

Or how the first things she always took note of when considering a man for his appearance were the things she didn’t like, the things she would have to ignore if they were to be together, whereas with women she’d always first noticed the things she’d thought were pretty—though she’d always assumed that it was jealousy and wanting those things for her own body that made her heart race and face flush. Everyone knows, it is simple fact, that women are just objectively more attractive than men—right?

Needless to say, Galinda’s entire plan for the future has now been turned on its head. Aside from being a woman, her Match hates her, and she quite hates her right back.

Well… maybe hate is too strong a word. Elphaba is annoying, truly, downright insufferable at times, but Galinda has always recognized the almost-fun she has with their banter, the entertainment she gains from their pranks and the challenge of thinking up her next one . She’s always known that, despite her complexion—and maybe even sometimes because of it, in certain lighting—Elphaba is quite pretty, with her strong cheekbones and freckles and the lithe, lean muscle framing her body. Her brains are admirable, as well, as Elphaba is by far the top of the class in every academic subject, and her comments and retorts toward Galinda are always witty and cunning. She’s quite… impressifying, Galinda has to admit.

It’s increasingly difficult not to notice other things, as well—Elphaba’s quirks, if you may. For instance, the girl loves her tea; she has several different kinds, one of which she saves for the morning and one of which she saves for nighttime, the others Galinda has yet to see her touch. In the cafeteria, she never chooses the meat option for her meal, sticking to more plant-based foods instead. If she’s not immediately blurting out the answers in class, then she is always the first to raise her hand. She adores her sister, always doting on her without being overbearing. And she seems to like poppies, always keeping a fresh bouquet in a small vase beside her bed.

...She also has a black silk scarf she wraps around her head every night, assumedly to protect her fine braids from frizzing while she sleeps; she only puts it on once Galinda is in her own bed, but she notices still. She’s much stronger than her small stature would suggest, even with the aforementioned muscles, as she constantly—and aggravatingly—bests Galinda in sparring class. She has a favorite study spot in the library, near one of the windows Galinda passes by almost every day, and if that spot is taken by someone else, she has a favorite spot in the courtyard. And when she’s very deep in thought about something, she’ll stick the end of her fountain pen between her lips, the muscles of her jaw flexing as she chews. When she figures something out, her eyebrows raise and eyes widen, dark green lips parting ever-so-slightly before tilting up in an accomplished smirk.

You know. Just basic things any roomie would notice—or so she assumes. They, admittedly, make Elphaba feel more… real to Galinda, more tangible, less of a vague concept of an “enemy” and more like a real person with multiple sides to her.

But the fact of the matter remains: she also stole the sorcery seminar away from Galinda, and that is most definitely unforgivable. The insults she bites out are still insults, her emotions still quickly turn to anger, her demeanor remains nigh unapproachable.

They simply… don’t get along.

Galinda has to acknowledge that Matches don’t always work out, it’s simply fact. It’s rare, but there are occasionally those who either never actually meet their Match or end up dissolving their Matched relationship down the line. Galinda, of course, had never planned for herself to be one of those… disappointments , but surely she’s eventually bound to find someone who would want her enough to forgo their own Match in order to be with her. Perhaps she could find one of the even-rarer cases of one who’d been born without a Mark at all, like she’d initially thought Elphaba to be.

She shoves down whatever she may feel about the situation. She doesn’t have time for things such as sadness. So, when she catches herself running a finger over her defunct Mark and zoning out or, Oz forbid, wanting to cry, she boxes it all away, tucks it all into a dark corner in the recesses of her mind and does her damnedest to forget it’s even an issue.

It would probably help if she had someone trustworthy to talk it all out with, get some reassurance that everything would be okay. Maybe then these feelings wouldn’t end up rising back up to the surface so often. Galinda very much wishes to talk to Ama about the giant upset that has become her life, but she unfortunately has been seeing less and less of her Familiar now that classes are in full swing. Familiars aren’t allowed in the classrooms to prevent students from using their Bonds to cheat in any way (though why that can’t just be a rule on exam days like it had been for the previous generations, Galinda isn’t sure), and Galinda finds herself requiring more and more study time to keep up with her course load. She’s still determined to make it into Madame Morrible’s seminar somehow, and she’s fearful that low grades in her other courses would diminish what precious little chance she already has of succeeding in that endeavor.

Ama has stopped hanging around the dorms as much, as a result. She’s apparently decided to give Galinda more space to focus on her studies, which Galinda tries to be grateful for even though she misses the Swan’s presence—and could certainly use her help studying certain topics. Some nights, when she’s trying to sleep, she can feel Ama’s restlessness through their Bond and wonders if her Familiar misses her just as much.

Occasionally, Galinda thinks of asking Elphaba for help with her studies; her roommate always has her nose in a book, anyhow, and as mentioned before, she’s at the top of the class in every academic subject. But then Elphaba will say something snide, or her sorcery textbooks catch Galinda’s eye, and the thought suddenly seems preposterous again.

So, she pours all her efforts into studying on her own, or with Pfannee and Shenshen, though they’re rarely anything more than a distraction. If she’s not studying or doing something necessary like eating or bathing, then she’s at some party or club event or fulfilling some social obligation she’s agreed to—because of course everyone wants Galinda Upland of the Upper Uplands to grace their gathering with her presence. It’s quite exhaustifying.

So, you see, it’s because of all this that Galinda simply doesn’t have the time to truly hate Elphaba Thropp. After a couple weeks have passed since the… reveal, her ardor has settled to something more… neutral, something more akin to tolerance. But not because Elphaba is her Match, of course not, it’s simply because she doesn’t have the energy to spare.

This lack of hatred is more clearly displayed the night after those horrendible words are written on Dr. Dillamond’s chalkboard. Galinda is having another restless night—as is Elphaba, apparently, by the way she tosses and turns in her own bed. Does Galinda necessarily care about that rude, old Goat? Not truly, but it’s the principal of the matter; imagine if she didn’t have Ama, if the Swan couldn’t speak. It’s a simply horrific idea, and she wonders if it’s sentiments like what was painted on the chalkboard that have led to the new Familiar policies.

She’s up much later than she usually is, due to all these racing thoughts. She’s just made the mental note to be sure to check on Ama Clutch the next day when Elphaba shoots straight up in her bed, gasping for breath.

Galinda stills, studies her roommate as much as she can in the dimness of their chambers. Elphaba doesn’t seem to notice her; she holds a hand to her throat as she chokes down air, then slides her palm down to press flat against her chest.

Does Elphaba have nightmares?

The green girl tosses her thin blankets away from her body, and even Galinda can see the light sheen on her skin, the dampness of the back of her nightgown. Her roommate quickly stands and heads over to the balcony, throwing open the doors and stepping outside.

Oh. This is why she does that nearly every night. Galinda suddenly feels very, very guilty for snapping at Elphaba over this habit, this habit which now seems to be a very understandable necessity.

And she can’t help but wonder: What could possibly plague this girl’s thoughts so insistently that she has terrors nearly every night?

Well, it is very difficult indeed for Galinda to say the word “sorry,” but she feels too guilty to merely sit idle. She pushes herself up in her bed and patiently waits for Elphaba to reenter the room.

When she does so, she visibly startles at the sight of Galinda sitting up in bed, watching her. “What?” she snaps, immediately defensive—Galinda winces, but reminds herself that Elphaba’s reaction is warranted with the state of their relationship.

“I just—are you okay?” she says, trying for softness but still finding her voice tense.

Elphaba rolls her eyes and shuts the balcony doors behind her. “As if you care,” she says flatly. She moves to go back to her bed.

Alright, Galinda does take full offense to that one. She feels her brows flatten in response. “I was trying to be nice.”

Another roll of green eyes as Elphaba sits down on the edge of her bed. “Oh, is that so?” she asks sarcastically.

Galinda feels herself deflate a bit, shoulders dropping. Is it really that unbelievable that she could have kind intentions for once? Guilt floods her chest again. “Well. Yes.” Oz, even she can hear the vulnerability in her tone now.

Elphaba seems to hear it, too, thank Oz. Galinda sees her shoulders stiffen, her back straighten, and hears the hesitance in her voice when she says, “...oh. Well. Sorry. I—yes, I’m fine. Just… a bad dream.”

The apology softens Galinda a bit further, and her curiosity comes back. “About what?” Then, worried she’ll be seen as prying, she tacks on, “If you’d like to talk about it, that is.” Galinda can’t see every detail of Elphaba’s shadowed face, but she does see her lips quirk to the side as she pauses.

Elphaba takes a slow, shaky breath. “Drowning.”

Oh. Galinda isn’t sure what she’d expected, but it definitely wasn’t that. “That sounds… horrendible,” she confesses. Does she dream of drowning every night? Did something happen to her as a child to cause such terrifying fears?

“It is,” Elphaba admits, starting to shift a bit uncomfortably where she sits.

Galinda is filled with the urge to help, to ease Elphaba’s pain somehow, but she doesn’t know what to do without knowing the cause behind it all. She bites her lip before daring to ask, “Why is it you have these—”

But Elphaba cuts her off. “It’s late,” she says, voice flattening again, though not angrily like before. She swings her legs up onto her bed and draws her sheets up once more. “Goodnight, Galinda.”

Galinda feels the sting of rejection as a pit in her stomach and tries to tell herself it’s fine. They may be Matched, but they’re not friends, they’re not close in any way. This is the most civil conversation they’ve ever had, and Galinda’s trying to dig out all of Elphaba’s secrets; of course she’d be wary.

She tries not to let that familiar disappointment settle. This is just how it is, how it’s going to be.

“Good—goodnight, Elphaba,” she responds, so quietly she’s not even sure her roommate hears her.

As she turns to face the opposite direction and pulls her comforter up over her shoulders, Galinda wonders if Ama can feel her heartbreak.

***

A prince arrives the next day.

Vinkan Prince Fiyero Tigelaar is all anyone can talk about even before he makes his first appearance. Students of every year, every gender wonder and speculate on what he’s like, what type of Familiar he has, whether he’s found his Match yet, whether one of them will have the same Mark.

Galinda thinks he’s perfect before they’ve even met.

So, what if they’re not Matched? Plenty of people have relationships before they find their Match, and some of them are even so happy in said relationships that they never feel the need to go looking for the one who bears their Mark—that last bit is rare, perhaps, but it happens. This would be no different, it’s just that Galinda has found her Match and is simply… pretending she hasn’t.

Upon actually meeting Prince Fiyero, Galinda finds that he flirts with everyone he crosses paths with anyways, so why not have some fun?

His russet skin and blue tattoos make him a novelty on the Shiz campus, but it also reminds Galinda of Ama’s comment on her first day here. And would you have offered such ‘help’ to a Vinkan? The memory fills her with shame—maybe she should truly apologize to Elphaba for her behavior that day.

For now though, she focuses on catching Fiyero’s eye—she does—and keeping his attention on her—she mostly does. She offers to give him a tour, which he accepts, starting with taking his Horse Familiar to the Animal dorms. It works out, she thinks, since she’d been wanting to catch up with Ama today, anyhow. Hopefully the Swan won’t embarrass her in front of this new prospect. Thankfully, Galinda hasn’t had the chance to tell her that Elphaba is her Match, so at least there should be very little judgment on that end.

When they arrive to the area in which Galinda’s been told the Animal dorms are located, however, her stomach twists unsettlingly—these are decidedly not normal dorm buildings. Instead of an enclosed shelter with rooms for each animal—or even two or three of them at a time—the “Animal dorms” appear to be nothing more than repurposed stables. The Familiars seem to be split by general species, but they are packed in tight and nearly piled atop one another.

Fiyero gives her a worried look, and Feldspur’s steps seem hesitant as well. “This is how you all treat your Familiars, here?”

“I—I didn’t know,” Galinda stammers, now embarrassed on top of her anxiety. “We were told that the Animal dorms were as extravagant as ours—and Ama, she didn’t…” Why didn’t Ama tell me about this? “There has to be some sort of mistake.”

“Looks pretty intentional to me,” Fiyero grumbles, but he still follows her forward, patting Feldspur’s side soothingly.

Galinda spots a man dressed in employee colors, one who appears to be a caretaker for the grounds. “Pardon me, sir,” she calls as she nears him. “I’m looking for my Familiar? She’s a white Swan, her name is Ama Clutch, of the Upland family? I was told this is where she stays, but it appears I’ve found the wrong place.”

The caretaker pauses his work and looks her up and down, sending an uneasy shiver across her body. “A swan, eh?”

“...A Swan, yes.”

“Yeah, I think I know what you mean. Over here.”

The uneasiness grows into nausea as Galinda follows the man, Fiyero and Feldspur trailing behind her. Surely he’s mistaken; surely Ama hasn’t been subjected to living in these conditions this entire time.

But he leads them over to a section housing a multitude of avian creatures—Chickens and Doves and a Peacock, a Crane like her Momsie’s Familiar, all squished together so that Galinda can hardly tell one Animal from the next. Is this why their Bond is so restless at night?

“Oi, pretty bird!” the caretaker—if Galinda can even call him that, with this revelation—calls out.

Galinda would normally have been elated at seeing Ama’s head pop up above the crowd of feathers, but now it only further sickens her stomach.

“This your Master?” the not-caretaker continues, and Galinda whips her head around to glare at him.

“Master? I beg your pardon?” But she’s interrupted before she can truly lay into him for such a rude, disparaging comment.

“Galinda!” Ama calls, hardly able to flap her wings in order to escape the back corner she’d been occupying. Several of the other Birds cry out and chastise her for smacking them as she pushes herself into the air, but she ignores them in favor of reaching Galinda at the entrance to the stall. “What—what are you doing here, Duckie?” she asks, sounding more nervous than excited to see her—by the way their Bond feels, Galinda thinks she is very concerningly nervous indeed.

Galinda doesn’t even have it in her to be embarrassed at the use of her pet name in front of Fiyero. She crouches low and strokes the side of Ama’s long neck, just barely resisting the urge to bury her face in white down feathers. “I—I was showing Fiyero around, and—I wanted to see you, I—my dear Ama, why didn’t you tell me they had you all living like this?” She blinks rapidly in an attempt to hold back the tears that now threaten to fall from her eyes.

Ama heaves a heavy sigh, sparing a short glance Fiyero and Feldspur’s way before returning her focus on her Companion. “Duckie, there’s no point. Other students have tried arguing, but there’s nothing to be done. It’s been your dream to come here since you were a girl, and I wasn’t about to damage that.” Ama tries to send some calming thoughts across their Bond, but it doesn’t help soothe Galinda very much. “I didn’t want to worry you when there is nothing you could do about it. Besides, it could very well be much, much worse—”

“Worse? Oh, you must be in shambles if you think anything could be worse than this—you don’t even have a nest of your own, for Lurline’s sake!”

“Except it can be, Galinda!” Ama snaps, voice raising in a way she very, very rarely has before. It stuns Galinda into silence, so she continues. “Other Animals are talking about how the only reason their Companions chose to come here is because other universities wouldn’t allow them to travel together at all.” Galinda bites her lip, heart sinking, and Ama must feel it in their Bond because she softens slightly. “I know you’ve been sheltered all your life, that your view of the world has not yet widened, but the very fact of the matter is that it can be much worse, Duckie. It’s this, or nothing—this, or I leave you here, alone, to go back to Frottica, alone.”

Galinda feels her lip tremble even through the hold her teeth still have on it.

“This is ridiculous,” Fiyero says from behind her, voice filled with frustration. “If I’d known, I never would have come here. Feldspur, you have to believe me.”

“I know, lad, calm down. I think Miss Ama has a point. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Ama nods to Feldspur in acknowledgment. Galinda feels like her voice has disappeared.

“If you’d like, I can show you where the Horses stay, Mister—Feldspur, was it?”

“Indeed.”

With that, Ama urges Galinda to stand and, after she brushes dirt off the hem of her skirts, they start walking.

“Now, look,” Ama says as they travel to the other side of the compound, “it’s really not all that bad. I just didn’t want to worry you. They say we can leave when we want, though they tend to give us a tough time unless our… ‘Masters’ are with us”—Galinda scoffs at the use of the term—“so if you ever find yourself needing me, just come by. Besides, some of the students come by to keep us company, even bringing us gifts on occasion. Why, even—oh! There she is, in fact—hello, Miss Elphaba!”

And indeed, Galinda looks up to see her roommate standing at the door to a stall, a basket of poppies hanging off of her arm. She has a smile on her face, at least until she notices Galinda standing there—and Galinda unwittingly takes note of the fact that Elphaba has the most adorable little gap between her two front teeth, the way her lips curl up more on one side than the other, the way her freckles scrunch up beneath her eyes—

“Oh,” Elphaba says, disappointment at Galinda’s presence glaringly obvious. She keeps her tone light in responding to the Swan, though. “Hello, Miss Ama. How are you, today?”

“Quite well, quite well. I was just showing our new friend Mister Feldspur to the Horse’s quarters.”

“Ah, yes. We’ve… met.” Well, that’s definitely a curious glare Elphaba is giving Fiyero. “Done any more trampling as of late, Your Highness?” Wow, and what a scathing tone; she hasn’t even talked to Galinda with such disdain since their first meeting.

“Only to those who deserve it,” Fiyero says with a smirk. Elphaba scoffs and gives one of those infamous rolls of her eyes.

Galinda feels very out of the loop.

“Pray tell,” he continues, “where is your Familiar, Miss Elphaba?”

Elphaba stiffens, as does Ama beside her, their Bond issuing a warning for Galinda to keep her mouth shut.

“Not here,” Elphaba says flatly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She changes her tone again to address Ama. “I’ll leave some poppies by your place, Miss Ama; I thought I’d bring you all something to liven up the space a bit today.”

“Thank you, dear; that’s very kind of you.”

And then they are on their way once more, though Galinda can’t help but glance back at her roommate as they pass. How long has she been coming here? Has she known about the Familiars’ living conditions this entire time? Does she think Galinda’s known, that she’s been okay with it? Perhaps that’s why she treats her like she’s some heartless creature, like she’s that rude non-caretaker who sees Animals as things to be lorded over by Masters. The idea of Elphaba thinking such horrid things about her makes her nauseous all over again.

Ama brings them to the stalls where a few other Horses are stationed, and after introductions are made, Feldspur dismisses Fiyero to continue his tour with Galinda.

“I’d like to meet my new neighbors and get settled in. No worries, lad. Go on, now.” Feldspur’s voice is kind and calm, and so Fiyero nods and lovingly pats the side of his face in goodbye. Ama nods her agreement, their Bond pulsing with reassurance that manages to calm Galinda’s anxiety only slightly.

Fiyero then turns to her, and Galinda tries her best to brush her thoughts about this whole situation—and the green roommate that plagues her mind—away as he offers an arm to her.

“Shall we, then? I’m sure there’s much more to see,” he says kindly, though Galinda can tell that there’s still some unhappiness underneath the surface.

She takes his arm and tells herself to focus—she needs to impressify this perfect prince so that she can still have a love for the ages, still have the future she’s planned for all her life. So she puts on a smile that she knows will show off her dimple the best, tosses her hair over her shoulder, and says, “Of course, darling.”

If Ama says everything will be fine, then surely everything will be fine.

#wicked #gelphie #galinda x elphaba #galinda x elphie #glinda x elphaba #glinda x elphie #fanfic #writing #gelphie fanfiction #gelphie fanfic #wicked fanfic #soulmates #soulmate au

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viscasi · 26 days ago

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Do you think the qualities of gnchet and Christianity can coexist?

~ A Christian guy that's slowly learning more and more about himself 🌸

I mean, religion is complicated because it’s not a one-package deal.

(Important context, the background I’m coming from: I grew up Mormon (LDS), and virtually 100% isolated from anything else until I got older, so my knowledge of other religions is essentially limited to what I know from history classes and the internet. I also no longer consider myself part of that religion, or any other organized religion. My own spiritual beliefs err more on the side of agnosticism, though, not atheism.)

I think this ultimately depends on what kind of Christianity we’re talking about. There is a lot of Christian thought rooted in taking the Bible literally and putting the opinions of church authorities over anything and everyone else, and upholding strict traditions without asking if they are truly Christian necessities or merely traditions, and that’s were you’ll see a total rejection of anything “non-traditional,” including and sometimes even especially gender nonconformity. This is especially true for Mormonism, where the emphasis of the religion is on the nuclear family, where men and women are supposedly innately different and designed for specific roles that would be “unnatural” or even blasphemous not to “obey.”

(The hilarious irony of this is that, meanwhile, all of the popular depictions of Jesus are a guy with long hair in a “dress.” Soo…..)

But, if we’re talking about Christian ideologies with more room for nuance and more of a focus on the core things Jesus stands for, rather than the details of debated doctrine or dogma, that’s where you’ll see a lot more compatibility with… well, a lot of things.

My personal argument is that a god who creates a creature with the intent to make it spend its whole existence rejecting itself for harmless, beautiful traits God put there in the first place… that’s just a cruel god. Most Christians believe God isn’t cruel, especially not so needlessly. So, I’d say a loving god would want you to embrace who you are entirely and become the best, happiest version of yourself possible. Learning more and more about yourself sounds like a wonderful thing and I’m happy for you! I would imagine God would feel the same— God is love, right? There are people who disagree with me, but I disagree with them.

There are a lot of people on the earth who claim to speak God’s word (even among Christians specifically), and most of them contradict each other without a way to actually prove who is right or wrong besides taking someone else’s word for it— so, it’s up to you to decide who is right about your god, whose interpretation you trust to dictate how you should live your life, if anyone.

On another note, I hope it doesn’t come across like I hate Christians or something; I’ll be candid with you, when I talk about Christianity in general on this blog it’s not always in a positive light, because it is true that the specific LDS organization I grew up in has harmed and exploited me and many others and I am angry about that, and I don’t hide it. Plus, I think it’s relevant to my blog to talk about how certain behaviors from certain Christian paths of thought can also be harmful (like the predisposition of believing everyone else is wrong and it’s your responsibility to ‘correct’ them— e.g. forcefemming, conversion camps— anywhere at any time regardless if it’s welcome or not, as some Christian organizations teach their followers)— and I do think it’s important to be honest about it and to not pretend it doesn’t happen, especially since it is very relevant to queer people’s experiences.

But, that’s certainly not every Christian, and ultimately it could be argued that those aforementioned harmful ways of Christianity are fundamentally “un-Christian” anyway, since in theory Christianity should be about loving one another, not “controlling people you hate.” There are many Christians who live progressively, thoughtfully and lovingly and I’m happy they’re around.

So, no, gender nonconformity isn’t fundamentally incompatible with Christianity in general, as far as my knowledge of it goes. But whether the authorities you have chosen (if any besides yourself) to further interpret God’s word for you say otherwise isn’t guaranteed, so it really is up to your discretion.

#christianity #religion #gender nonconforming #queer #hetgnc #culture & media #lgbtqia #asks #if anyone with more of a direct experience/knowledge of Christianity wants to add to this go ahead-#as I said my knowledge is fairly limited

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notalotgoingonatthisinstant · 2 months ago

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Writing tag game

Back from the dead to find this @silvagrey tag, so let's do it!

How many works do you have on AO3?

54. I do have a few over at ff.net that I never transferred over, though.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

420,495 (what).

What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, I've got a few Young Royals in progress, and PJO is always in my drafts. I've also got a Dead Boy Detectives one in the drafts as well. There's a JATP one that I need to finish the last chapter of, I'm fully aware. And I've written for Glee, Stranger Things, and HP, but nothing new for many years.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Like a New Yorker (3,737), Bigger 'n Texas (2,583), Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart (2,362), Half a God (1,943), and Less of a Coward (1,258).

Do you respond to comments?

I used to be so good at responding 🥲🥲 Now I'm lacking. I do read all of them, more than once, and cherish them so much.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Of Hearts Breaking and Thunderstorms, because it's a straight-up breakup fic. The other angsty ones have a slightly more hopeful ending.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I mean, I've written getting-togethers, proposals, weddings, births of children... Most of my fics are happy, even if not 100% all the time, but I like me a good time.

Do you get hate on fics?

I remember one time I got a comment along the lines of "this character would absolutely not do this and it wouldn't go like this", and I thought, okay, just don't read it???, and they deleted it shortly after. So.

Do you write smut?

I do. It's something I've developed as a skill. The first time was soooo awkward and tricky, because I kind of didn't want to read the words I'd just written. But, as I got older, read more, and lived, it got more natural. I still vehemently refuse to use overtly crude language, because I honestly can't read much of it when it's like that.

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don't think I've ever written one. I rarely read them, because it's hard for them to pique my interest, much less to write one. But you never know. The right combination could come along.

(Side note: back at school, we did a video project where we mashed up one episode of Glee and one of Supernatural - Gleenatural, if you will - and it was a true masterpiece. I played a possessed Sunshine Corazon and sang Telephone in a public bathroom.)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Well, my fics were part of the AO3 scraping. I've been off here, but I knew the times it happened.

On the other hand, I have taken inspiration in a fic before and planned to shout out the author in my notes, but I ended up publishing the fic during an online class and completely forgot about the shout-out, so it was pretty devastating for that author to see it. They reached out, we talked it out, I apologised till my next generation, updated the fic, it's all good. But yeah, I don't post fics during online classes anymore.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have translated fics. When I first started writing fics, I didn't have the confidence to write in English at the ripe old age of eleven/twelve, so I would write in Portuguese and then translate it from myself - just double the work, really. And I've also translated a Glee fic for a special project (Season Six Glee Fixmas, maybe? I can't find it now, it wasn't on AO3).

I think I recall someone once asking me if they could translate one of my fics, but I can't remember which one and into what language.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

For the aforementioned Glee project, but I don't work really well with other people when it comes to this. I've also tried to co-write a book with my then friends when I was 12-15. Didn't work out well in the end. I'm too controlling and my brain wants to snap when someone tries to give me advice on my writing, even now as a grown-up, so no betas either.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

See, I feel like if I say it, I'll jinx it. I haven't finished this JATP one from 2021, The Great Hope for a Dynasty, and the infamous Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart sequel.

What are your writing strengths?

My particular brand of autism makes it so that I need things to make logical sense. It drives a lot of ideas forward, with me wanting to fill in the gaps or wonder the what-ifs. It tends to lead to an extremely researched fic that has to be plausible, even if just in-universe, but it has to obey those laws. Pretty much all of my fics nowadays receive that sort of praise, which makes me the happiest!

What are your writing weaknesses?

Stems from the same characteristics, such as a fatal flaw. Since everything needs to make sense, many works get tangled up and unfinished because I'm not satisfied. I'm much harder on my own writing nowadays than I was before.

Also, I can't be much bothered with world-building. That's what attracts me to fanfiction - the world is already there, I just have to play with it. I don't write many AUs that are too far from the source material.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I love it! I personally only speak two languages fluently, but I know bits and pieces from others, enough to find trustworthy translations when needed. I don't think I'll meddle with a language I'm completely unfamiliar with. Also, it has to make sense within the fic, and there either has to be the translation somewhere or the context clues are enough, so nobody has to be bothered with translating it on their own.

First fandom you wrote for?

Probably Percy Jackson, on DeviantArt. I believe my HP work came afterwards.

Favourite fic you’ve written?

Well, I'm proud of all the ones I've posted, otherwise they wouldn't see the light of y'all's screens. If I had to choose, maybe from each fandom:

Bigger 'n Texas, because it turned out exactly the way I had pictured the idea in my head.

Put Me Back Together and Take My Heart, because it was the most medical I ever got to be on a fic, and the slowness of the realism killed me, but it paid off.

Down at the Pier, my JATP masterpiece.

I think it's sweet that my favourites seem to be people's favourites as well. I'm also incredibly fond of the DBD one I've got in my drafts. Hope to finish it and let the world enjoy it as well.

#my fics

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bensonstablers · 1 year ago

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I was tagged by @sothischickshe (thank you!!! 🥰) to answer 20 questions for writers:

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

205.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

609,094

3. What fandoms do you write for?

fandoms i've written for include:

Law & Order: SVU / L&O: Organized Crime

Good Girls

Gotham

Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel

Criminal Minds

Graceland

Stranger Things

The Walking Dead

Riverdale

Castlevania

Preacher

Four Brothers

Outer Banks

Gilmore Girls

while no longer available, in the past i've also written for:

Fast and Furious franchise

MCU / Marvel

Boondock Saints

Hocus Pocus

From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series

(plus more i'm probably forgetting about)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Shared History (Good Girls/Brio)

Degree of Separation (Good Girls/Brio)

Milkshakes (Good Girls/Brio)

Deep Sense of Belonging (Good Girls/Brio)

Sacred Art of Kissing (Good Girls/Brio)

5. Do you respond to comments?

i read all of them for sure but i'm terrible sometimes at responding although i do try my best

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ooft, okay. there's probably more than this but the following have major character death warnings that could very well be classed as angsty lmao:

i wrote this little ficlet: Gone (SVU, bensler/EO) in which a raid goes wrong and it's just pain from start to finish and then there's Until Long After She Takes Her Final Breath which is a Good Girls/brio fic in which their reunion at the beginning of season 3 goes very differently.

Why don't we go to Venus? is another Good Girls/brio fic in which the summary is: Rio killed her and that was supposed to be the end of it but Beth doesn’t seem to be done with him quite yet.

that one is probably my angstiest overall but the ending is probably the least angsty bit about it??? haha

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

honestly? i have no idea and i have no clue how to check 😭😂

8. Do you get hate on fics?

there was someone going around the SVU/OC fandom leaving weird hate comments on people's stuff (anonymously) and i got one but while it felt rude, it didn't feel like hate, but also it felt like it was supposed to be hateful, y'know? pretty sure i just deleted it though (i for sure ignored it) 😂

but generally, no. i'm lucky to say that i tend to avoid hate on social media and that includes fanfiction.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

i have done and the variety isn't huge but it's there? i guess?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

i have done! beyond the obvious (where shows, etc share worlds), i did a boondock saints/the walking dead one (which was also co-written) because norman reedus stars in both 😂

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i'm aware of?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

again, not that i'm aware of

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

yes! the aforemention boondock saints/the walking dead fic was co-written on ff.net and i co-wrote (with the same person), a fast and furious fic.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

i lost myself a ton in writing olivia/elliot from svu/organized crime as well as beth/rio from good girls so they'd probably battle it out for top spot.

BUT

if i'm being brutally honest, my all time favourite ever to write were fast and furious ships 😂 especially the OGs (specifically vince and leon) with my OCs (although there were canon ships i loved to write too!). it was just so fun and freeing and i constantly think about it.

(i also loved when i wrote random marvel/mcu pairings, winterwitch was probably my number one for them and again, i think about it a lot)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i think it's unlikely i'll finish a lot but especially a degree of separation. i kind of hate it, i'm so sorry 😭😭😭

16. What are your writing strengths?

the thought of analysing my own writing right now sounds painful but two of the most common nice things people tell me is that: 1) they like how i write dialogue and 2) they like my writing style in general

(but of which i highly appreciate!)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i don't do it enough?

nah. true but seriously, there's a ton, however, i do tend to waffle on and write something in several sentences that could have been just one 😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I don't think i've ever done it? if i have it'll be dialogue or whatever that's already in the show/move/etc

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Fast and the Furious 🥰

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

still on ao3: it has to be Why don't we go to Venus? but also Knock First which is a Beth/Rio/Original Male Character threesome fic that was SO MUCH fun

no longer posted: a fic for The Fast and the Furious. it was a Vince/OC story. it was so much fun to write and it was one of my most popular back when i was posting on ff.net and i miss this story all the time (even though it's probably awful 😂) and always think about re-writing and posting it again on ao3

Tagging: @conscience-killer @constant-sinner @astarkey @xstrawmari @blainesebastian if ya like! (sorry if you've been tagged before!)

#long post #tag games #i forgot how long i take to answer these things #(totally my fault! thanks for tagging! seriously!)#but now i'm going to leave this site and play some baldur's gate 3 😂

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super-paper · 2 years ago

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If you had to say, do you think this past few arcs of MHA, including the this final one, are rushed? I know many, many people have said it is so far, but like I just don’t see?? It seems that the pacing has been quite good, and the important moments are given impact, But the common complaints I see are that the story isn’t given enough room to breathe or it feels like it is going off a checklist. Do you think so too?

Yes and no. I do think some plot points have been expedited, but not out of lack of consideration for the story/characters or out of a desire to rush the story to an ending (or because Hori "secretly hates mha and just wants to get everything over with," or whatever absurd and insensitive nonsense redditwtter believes).

Rather, I always get the sense that Hori's always frustrated that he can't do even more for the series-- and recent interviews only cement this impression. MHA is his passion project and it's clear that he loves it deeply, but the constraints of this medium and his health problems sometimes make it difficult for him to fully realize that passion. Like, I don't want to overstep my boundaries as a fan and make insensitive assumptions, but-- as someone who also loves storytelling and art, I imagine it must be so unbearably frustrating to not be able to tell your story exactly the way you want to because of those aforementioned constraints. Despite that, he doesn't give up-- and as much as I want him to rest, I also can't help being in complete awe of his art/composition and how he delivers this level of quality on a near-weekly basis. He has an absurd level of talent.

Anyway. I feel that overall, act three has been paced just fine. The final act started out a bit rough with the dark hero and starnstripe arcs feeling mildly disjointed from each other-- but Hori found his rhythm again by the start of the war and thus far has managed to tie the themes and arcs of his core cast together in a satisfying way. I feel like people who claim that the pacing has been bad are kind of letting the cold, unrelenting march of real time cloud their judgement (MEMENTO MANGA AND MEMENTO MORI BROSKIS 🤘)-- but if you go back and binge read from the start of act 3 to now (306-405), it's easier to see that the final act has been paced well imho.

I've also mentioned this before, but, I feel people need to take the fact that Horikoshi introduced a lot of MHA's characters and plot elements when he was healthier into consideration with their critiques. Ongoing manga should not be critiqued the same way that one would critique a finished book-- understanding of the medium and its constraints are absolutely factors that need to be considered before you start bashing things like pacing or arguing that things have been "retconned," I feel.

And I also feel that as fans, we do have a responsibility to be aware of the grueling work conditions of this medium and the effects it has on the author, and then temper our expectations accordingly instead of expecting Horikoshi to neatly resolve every single subplot or minor character arc (For example: "Why aren't Momo, Denki, and Kirishima getting their moments in the final war?" bc they all got their big moments during the first war; "Why didn't we -see- Izuku and Toshinori developing their relationships with ALL of the 1A kids, Class 1A vs Deku and IronMight felt so forced!" *afo voice* BECAUSE THEY'RE EXTRAS-- bc this would be an absurd request even If Horikoshi didn't have health problems. It's perfectly fine to narrow the focus of Izuku's relationships down to certain key members of his class to emphasize the effect he has on people and narrow the focus of Toshi's relationships down to two or three other students to show his growth as a teacher-- the story would become excessively bloated & lose focus if we tried developing *every single side character/relationship*. This is literally basic writing 101).

I do agree that glossing over certain emotional beats in the aftermath of the first war was unfortunate and unlike what we'd come to expect from Hori (Midnight's death being treated like a footnote instead of a chance to explore the concept of personal loss in the students is the most egregious example)-- but for the past year or so we've seen a return to form in emphasizing/exploring the emotions of the core characters, so I do have high hopes for the finale/epilogue of Act 3!

#sophie.txt #my hero academia #thank you for the ask!

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coffeeandfaeries · 2 years ago

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Zodiac Academy: The Awakening - A book review

C. Peckham and S. Valenti

The first chapter started off fairly strong. We were immediately introduced to the main characters, their personalities, and their backgrounds. After the first chapter, which was from Darcy's POV we got to see the world from Tory's perspective.

It didn't take too long before we were introduced to Professor Orion, who is just an absolute piece of shit. The girls are taken to the academy and, of course, we find out they're insanely powerful. Thankfully, they don't know how to use magic, which puts them at the bottom of the food chain, literally. They're both food sources for two different vampires. At this academy, they find out that after the death of their parents (because, of course, they come from a royal family) four families took over, and their sons attend the aforementioned schools.

The twins don't want the throne, but the Heirs (Darius, Caleb, Seth, and Max) are continuing to torment them in hopes that the twins will give up and return to the mortal realm. They make two friends, but everyone else treats them like shit, including the teachers. At one point the Heirs try to gain their trust, and for some reason, the girls fall for it (MULTIPLE TIMES). Darius is probably the worst and is trying to murder (and for some reason have sex with) them. Caleb doesn't seem to care about the throne and it seems more like he's just pretending because that's what is expected of him (Or perhaps the authors forgot to give him a personality and hoped his good looks would make up for it). The other two heirs are honestly irrelevant. Finally, Orion is a dick, but for some reason, he seems like he's nicer than he seems, almost as if he's pretending to be an asshole. (Poorly written foreshadowing I guess?)

The book shows only the first couple of weeks of the semester, if I recall correctly after 3 months there's some Fae equivalent of midterms, to determine whether you're good enough to stay at the academy, but the book ends before that happened.

The Heirs are dicks and the girls don't trust them, but throughout the book, we can see them struggle because whenever the guys are "nice" to them they want to give them a second chance.

They make a deal on their day off, agreeing not to torment them so they can all relax for a night. Then someone get's attacked (a random female character) and both Darius and Orion disappear. During one of their classes with Orion, Darcy gets him assigned as some sort of mentor and he later claims her as a source. Darcy hates him and is mad at herself for being attracted to him.

The book describes classes as the girls try to learn to control their power and discover their Order. Finally, the girls realized they're left to their own devices and that no one is gonna protect them. They want the boys (Caleb and Orion in particular) but they know better (sometimes). I'm pretty sure they will be getting redemption arcs because so far they haven't treated them as poorly as Darius has. The girls unfortunately let their guards down around Max, who used his siren powers to learn about their greatest fears.

The book ends in a horrifying scene. During the school dance the twins get separated. Darcy is seduced by Seth who cuts her hair off and Darius and Max try to drown Tory. Orion saves her and punishes the boys. That's when they hear people scream and find out a professor has been murdered. The professor who dies was trying to help the twins throughout the book by sending them anonymous messages through "Faebook".

The writing is very juvenile, it sounds like a teenager just speaking, and there's no artistry. But as far as I can tell that was kind of on purpose. I don't mind it, it actually makes the book slightly easier to read. I kept my expectations pretty low so it was enjoyable. Sure, the plot is pretty basic and unoriginal, but it's entertaining nonetheless. The only thing I really hated were the detailed descriptions of the humiliation and harassment the Vega twins endured. In the authors' defense, I didn't read the description or tags so I had no idea this was tagged as "Dark fantasy bully romance" so that's on me.

Rating: ⛤⛤

#booklr #books #reading #books and reading #booklover #review #book review #readingblr #bookworm #zodiac academy

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mrsq8geek · 2 years ago

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This makes me feel old to say, but the straightforward answer to "why should i be expected to respect authority" is "because you have good faith that the authority figure is doing what's best for you". in before "i don't", yes, that's exactly what's been happening over the past couple of decades as the internet expanded.... well, everything.

while i was growing up, if you read "x study claims y", you assumed that those people did their due diligence and gave you the actual, beneficial answer, and that the journalist who reported it did so to help you. part of it was the naivete of youth, but another critical part was the lack of, again, internet, and everything that entailed.

the dissemination of information also made it really easy to understand things like academic integrity, and lack thereof, the fact that studies aren't always impartial, quite the opposite, there's a good and increasing chance they're paid for by someone who wants to sell something, because that's another thing that exploded over the past couple decades, globalisation and capitalism. if you live in the states, that was already happening to you, but if not, then it was forced upon you and is now replacing the way you used to do things, the way that was probably better suited to your situation.

while it's not uncommon for youth to have anti-authoriarian sentiments, we know both through data and anecdotally that starting from millennials onwards, people are not getting more conservative as they get older. we no longer have the aforementioned good faith that our authority figures, whether they're our parents and teachers or our bosses and scientists and lol politicians, even remotely have our best interest in mind.

there's corruption everywhere, of course. but where i am, the corrupt people in power have neither class nor their own long-term self-interest in mind. i can't find that post right now, but someone on tumblr was talking about how people protected capone because he took care of them and they could trust him better than the police. our people don't have that kind of class. or how feudal lords make sure the wealth and power stay in their family and benefit their children? our corrupt people only care about themselves.

but, importantly, there's a disconnect between the people who remember The Before Times of respect being granted automatically and irrevocably, and people who believe respect must be earned and can be lost.

it's a shitty thing for both parties, imo. there's value in respecting people who know more than you and learning from them, just as there's value in allowing yourself to be questioned and understanding that being respected isn't because of your own intrinsic value, but because of your the way your fit into the grander fabric of your society, and treating the people whose respecting you're demanding as such.

anyway, this was super long, here's a couple videos i remembered while writing this.

first one is a tom scott video, briefly explaining the idea that language and communication are cooperative

youtube

here's the second one, it's an extra credits video about faith, and it was the channels' reaction to how people responded to their previous videos about religion in games. this that aforementioned good faith, and it also reminds me of the time our math professor told us -- and we believed him, as there's little reason not to -- that we do have the mathematical proof that 1 + 1 = 2. The proof is a 200-page paper. Very much an "I'll take your word for it" situation, thanks I hate it.

youtube

so yeah, without being pedantic, what's happening to our faith in our elders and expert sucks for everyone involved. I don't think my parents know what they're doing... but also I don't think fresh college grads know what they're doing either.

Who do I think does know what they're doing? People who've proved it to me personally. It's exhausting. I don't want to think my doctors don't know what they're doing, or aren't giving their best in their work and genuinely trying to help, or that their first interest is protecting themselves from liabilities because other, more petty and destructive people have burned them or their collleagues before... but it is what it is. That's why I'm writing my own medical history and I've essentially become my own doctor. The respect was lost.

never understood why i should be expected to respect authority anyway. like if you're gonna order me to do something for you you'd better give me a good reason to do it with a smile on my face. "because i said so and i'm in charge" doesn't count.

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and-231-others · 2 years ago

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adua, factually, is a good book

this post isn't trying to hate on Adua or anyone who worked on it, people who are represented by its characters, or people who may relate to/be like in any regard the characters in Adua. or english teachers. or teachers in general.

I just have a lot of thoughts about how we're (me and my classmates) are being told to read it in our english class and how it's given to us

Adua is the kind of book that I would read during a long car ride with absolutely zero/spotty reception, meaning that I would very rarely ever actually choose to read it. but I would read it and I would read all of it and I would read it in one sitting (which is better than some books)

Adua, however, is not at all the kind of book that I would ever suggest somebody read in an advanced high school english class. if you really want me to sit down and read this in a very not at all comfortable space, you better give me twenty bucks. I'll do it, but I'm not going to like it

and if you want me to take note of historical and cultural allusions on paper or computer, you better give me five more bucks

and if you want me to do any level of research on any of the allusions that I'm not genuinely interested in and actually write that down, you better give me at least five bucks per chapter because it's absolutely insane (/pos) how much is included. I know that it's kinda stupid that I'll research only what I'm interested in, but I do that all the time anyways and I'm not making myself do it. with google at my fingertips its like a second instinct

so kudos to the author and all for writing a really accurate book (as far as I know), but buddy this book is literally so hard to read with the amount of stuff I don't know and have no context for

I feel like the very bare minimum that a school can do is provide books that can be read easily (ie the formatting throughout the entire book is all uniform and the translation is done in a way that you can actually read it so it's grammar isn't really choppy (that being said, if the version we're reading is true to how it was originally written in italian... that's actually interesting and I would totally look up more about the italian language))

I do understand that this is kind of a high bar because teachers realistically are not getting paid that well at all, but if you're expecting us to do this much work for a book please make it easier for everybody

also I think just universally everybody should be putting trigger warnings at the beginning of chapters and stuff like, yes english teachers should do it because I high schoolers in this day and age have a much more intrinsic knowledge of what will trigger them and is therefore safe for them to be able to read without having actual issues go on during class. but also- just, anybody can get triggered by stuff, therefore ADD MORE TRIGGER WARNINGS AND IF YOU THINK THAT THIS WILL SPOIL A SURPRISE OR RUIN IT FOR PEOPLE, MAKE TWO VERSIONS OF THE BOOK, ONE WITH TRIGGER WARNINGS, AND ONE WITHOUT. MAKE THEM BOTH AVAILABLE FOR EVERYBODY (same price, same locations etc etc) (obviously making clear if a book had them included or not)

on another note, I think that if we're going to be doing something in class, especially if we're required to do it, you should make it interesting. that's not to say that Adua isn't interesting, I just think it's really hard to get into and once you're into it, it's really hard to get out of it. HOWEVER there's just too much going on to easily get into it into the first place (aforementioned lack of trigger warnings (read about my experience with some below), bad formatting etc etc)

in chapter 12, right at the end, there is just absolutely random smut that comes out of literally nowhere. I had no warning for it for it and that kind of thing really gives me the heebiejeebies, in a "gotta shake out the body" kind of way. it completely shuts me off from being able to finish anything for the next hour and (I've learned this because I read a lot of fanfiction. if you know anything about fanfiction, it's that eventually you're going to find a lot of untagged smut)

so I know that this is something that (while it doesn't exactly trigger me) bothers me immensely

and as I mentioned, there is absolutely no warning for this, so all of a sudden all this book that I'm supposed to be putting a lot of work into reading and taking notes on is completely near-impossible for me to do. because I can't focus on the book. because "oh my god what did I just read, I need to change my music, talk to a friend, scroll on my phone, read something else, and change my music again just to ask my friend to read to where it ends so I can finish the chapter because DAMN this is a large portion of my grade"

however... Adua is good. I think it's really informational because of how accurate is and how many historical and cultural references there are in it. and if I was going to be interacting with people from Somalia that were now in Italy and would have like been alive during the events that are talked about or happened in the book? I would totally read this if I knew that this was kind of similar to what they may have gone through

but I'm pretty sure that nobody in my english class is Italian. and I'm pretty sure that nobody in my english class is Somali (but I mean... I don't know that for sure, just a rough guess I've made based on how long I've known these people for and the one discussion about the book I've actually made it to so far). so all twenty-five of us that are reading this have absolutely no context for any event or allusion in the book, which means that we have to put a lot more work into this. also, all the historical background stuff is at the end of the book, so 1) I didn't even know it was there and 2) that's super inconvenient because you're literally flipping through the entire book trying to figure out what they might be talking about (and during the pre-reading that I missed, where this historical context thing starts. because you skip through the whole book to find it leading to spoilers)

a psa to teachers to close this off. if you're printing off a pdf of a book for students to read, please include page numbers because or else you're stuck telling people "oh just look at the online pdf of it for the page numbers" instead and (that's complete bs, that's way too much work on top of what we're already having to do)

#I just made a post related to this #and suddenly I had to make this post too #this is my call for help #adua by igiaba scego #books and reading #english class #high school #rant post #personal rant

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violetrainbow412-blog · 3 years ago

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I hate you [E. M]

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

word count: 13K (oopsie)

summary: You and Eddie Munson know exactly how you feel about each other. Until a moment changes everything and you embark on a journey of discovery about your relationship.

warnings: rivals to lovers (more lovers than rivals), hurt/comfort, mention of attempted abuse (but doesn't go too far) family problems, parental abandonment, the reader is ashamed of where she lives, drugs, drinking, swearing.

Love at first sight is an awesome thing. You make eye contact with the other person and suddenly their eyes become the most beautiful on the planet, instantly clicking and convincing you that you could give anything for them. Something similar happened to you with Edie Munson, but somehow the terms got confused, and instead of having love at first sight you experienced hate at first sight.

Middle school is the time when everyone is looking for their place in the world and you found refuge in black clothes, metal, and any position that was decisively against the system. To this day you had devoured entire books on anarchy and feminism, but you also did not deprive yourself of reading as energizing as the Lord of the Rings. But well, going back to the topic, coincidentally Eddie Munson also decided to take that course and although everyone's first thought was that you two would become friends, the truth is that the opposite happened. Because being honest, being different loses its meaning when there is another person identical to you, right?

In this way a kind of silent treatment was agreed upon between you; you hated him and he hated you.

It was like that for many years, doing endless things just to irritate each other. Sometimes he'd rush to grab the last of your favorite desserts in the cafeteria (even when he didn't like them) or you'd run to the movie and record store to rent just what you heard him mention over lunch. Other times you'd steal his stuff when he was distracted and Eddie would respond to this by taking some of yours, to the point where you guys had a little collection of each other in your rooms. Most of it was crap: a guitar pick, a chewed-up pen, a band pin. But it was as if they were trophies that you kept with special affection... or rather hate? Whatever the case, the point is that between you and Eddie there was a tension that by this point everyone had already been aware of.

Most of the time you had the same ideas and agreed (although you would never admit it) but when a disagreement arose, however minor, it was like watching Troy burn again.

"I know you're Ozzy Osbourne's bitch, but the truth is I think he's not that good" you had said once, seeing that he was wearing a shirt of the aforementioned. You were sitting next to him because you were late and there were no seats left, so you took advantage of the moment to make him angry "Now as a solo artist, I mean"

“At least he's still singing,” he muttered under his breath, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “Not like this horrible group you like… what was its name? Oh yes, Coven. Only 3 albums, 5 years. It's embarrassing that you want to criticize him with that kind of taste.”

“Still, I don't care. That guy is so overrated. It's like…very basic, you know?” you insisted, trying not to be affected by what he had just said "And the Coven singer was the one who popularized the sign of the horns, did you know that?"

“Of course it wasn't her. It was Ronnie Dio”

"Huh, another overrated guy."

"Are all successful metalheads overrated to you miss feminism?" he asked rolling his eyes. You two kept arguing, paying no attention to the class, until things escalated so much that you two were sent to detention and even then, you kept fighting.

It was the daily bread and that was why one Monday morning when Eddie saw you walk through the door, he mentally prepared himself for what was to come. It was something common between you, you greeted him with one of the most derogatory nicknames you could think of and he answered with a similar insult. He straightened his back slightly as you walked past him, not wanting to seem too interested in your arrival, but he was shocked to see that there had been nothing but silence from you.

That had never happened.

Eddie didn't immediately turn his head towards you, but he did try to peek at you, hoping that maybe you could come back by remembering he was there. But you just sat in the last chair as usual and dropped your head against the table without paying any attention to the world around you. The guy looked you up and down: black boots, ripped pants, and a huge hoodie from your favorite band that you probably bought at a flea market. There was nothing unusual about you and yet he felt like you were a complete stranger.

With a frown and the gears of his mind working at full speed, Eddie took a sheet of paper and crumpled it into a ball that ended up landing on your head, so you could pay attention to him. But you didn't even get up, you just flipped the bird in such an impersonal way that it hurt him.

During class Eddie didn't have time to do or say anything to you because it was going to look completely weird that he was turning back every so often, but the feeling of awkwardness in his never left him for a second. Even when the teacher made one of those stupid comments that annoyed you so much, he didn't hear you reply at all.

Maybe she's just tired, he thought. He kept moving his leg restlessly up and down until the bell rang and he was finally able to get up to look at you. Indeed you looked tired, with a couple of dark circles that not even the cheap makeup you bought had been able to hide. Your lips looked somewhat dry and pale and your movements were similar to those of a zombie.

"I see that someone woke up with the left foot," he said with a mocking tone, while he approached you and leaned against a table, practically imprisoning you.

“Very funny, Munson. You better go fuck yourself and leave me alone” you exclaimed reluctantly, still not looking at him, as you collected your notebooks in your backpack and went through a gap that he had left uncovered. He thought that behavior was very strange, even for you, but he decided to let it go and tried to think of something else. Although after several days in which you had barely looked at him, thinking about you became something inevitable.

"Eddie!" Garreth half yelled, snapping him out of his thoughts of him. The entire club had noticed that their leader had been more distracted as he hadn't even mentioned anything about the campaign that night. "Are you listening to us?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry,” he stammered, leaning a little further forward on the table so he could look at his friends. They babbled about the monsters they still needed to defeat and Eddie only bit into the talk, teasing that they wouldn't stand a chance of winning.

He had started to feel livelier and more dynamic until his eyes unintentionally found you. You always sat alone and there was usually a mess of things on your table. Sometimes you'd read a book or nod your head from side to side to the music playing on your Walkman, but this time you were just mindlessly playing with your food and you hadn't even had dessert.

“Is it Y/N?” Dustin exclaimed suddenly. Eddie tensed at the mention of your name and turned to look at the boy.

"She is what?"

“Is she the one who has you so lost in thought?” he asked, smirking. The most intelligent of the group was perhaps that boy, so the one with the long hair knew that it was totally useless to pretend before him.

"She's been kind of weird lately. That's it"

"And since when are you interested in her?" Mike murmured, frowning. Biting the inside of his cheek, Eddie didn't know what to say, even though he didn't understand why he was making such a big deal out of you, and he looked your way again.

"I guess I just want someone to annoy" he answered, shrugging, trying to convince himself that it was. There was an awkward silence for a few seconds in which everyone looked at the curly-haired man, until he got up from his chair "I'll be back in a minute" he said, without giving time for a reply from his friends, and then began to walk in the direction of where were you.

As soon as you saw him you let out a disgusted moan and rolled your eyes.

"What do you want?"

"As kind and beautiful as ever," he said wryly, as he dropped into the chair across from you.

"Today I'm not in the mood"

"That's the problem, you haven't been in the mood since the week started," Eddie began. His hand went directly to his cheek for support and he felt the icy coldness of the rings brush his skin.

"What are you talking about?"

“I'm saying you look miserable, girl. And I mean, I love that you're miserable but I usually like to be the reason for it,” he explained, but you just rolled your eyes again “You haven't even yelled at me or told me how useless I am and I'm honestly starting to feel a little bored. Have you stopped hating me already?"

“You're a complete drama queen and you probably have some fetish or something with being called useless. And I'm not going to contribute to that, thank you."

“What fetishes I have or don't have are none of your business unless you're going to do something about them,” he said with a flirtatious grin. You looked at him with annoyance and then you looked back at the food that you probably weren't going to eat. But Eddie was persistent so he got up from where he was to go to your bench and trap you between the wall and his pale body. "Are you going to do something about it?"

"I'm serious, I'm not in the mood to put up with these things. Not today, Eddie."

Eddie, you said, and the aforementioned felt a tug on his chest. You never said his name, he was always Munson or idiot or asshole or whatever derogatory term existed in English (and even other languages), or very occasionally a cold Edward. But something as personal and loving as Eddie sounded strange coming from your lips. And added to this, your voice had such a desperate and tired tone that suddenly everything disappeared and he wanted to give you a hug.

Wait a second… was he feeling compassion for you?

He was surprised when he felt your body slide under the table to escape and he felt silly for having frozen. When you reached for your backpack, his hand went almost by itself to hold your wrist.

“You okay?” he said. His voice was a kind and genuine whisper that took you by surprise and the fingers that barely pressed around your wrist felt warm.

"I'm better than ever" you just answered, while you let go and took your things. Eddie watched you walk down the hall with the certainty that you had blatantly lied to him and a touch of concern for you that he never thought he would have.

By the time Eddie got home it was late at night and all he wanted was to sleep for days at a time. But, unluckily for him, he still had a pile of homework to do that he knew he wouldn't do over the weekend. It wasn't the first time it had happened and he refused to fail another year, so he scavenged the house for some caffeine and poured himself a couple of cups as he wrote in his notebook. He had turned on music at a low volume and had left only his boxer shorts and a worn shirt that seemed to be enough for them despite how cold it was inside the trailer. He stayed like that for God knows how long and just as he was drifting off to sleep the ringing of the phone woke him up with a start.

It was after one in the morning, who could call him at that hour?

He thought maybe it was some emergency Wayne had had and he stumbled up to the phone, picked it up, and answered with a soft Hello?

"Eddie!" he heard from the other side. Her voice was muffled by music and other voices "I am Robin"

"What are you doing calling so late?" he asked in confusion. He and Rob were good friends, but he couldn't see a particular reason for the situation.

"Oh, I'm at a party. Steve wanted to come but he didn't want to come alone and so he convinced me to come as his friend and if he didn't get someone then we could be together and stuff. You know, he's been unlucky and so am I, but Vickie isn't here otherwise it would be super embarrassing for her to see me half drunk or with Steve because then she'd think we're…”

“Rob,” he cut her off, “I love hearing your stories and I'm glad you guys are having fun, but that's just what you called? I would have appreciated if you did it on a more conventional schedule.”

“Right, I forgot. I'm calling because the girl you always argue with is here, the one who dresses like you…”

“Y/N?” he interrupted her again “And you want to pick her up or what? Are you calling me for advice?

"No, stupid! Let me finish. She came here a while ago but now she was really drunk and I don't know how it happened but she ended up getting into a fight with one of Jason's friends and her face was bleeding horrible and I can't find her anywhere."

Eddie's blood ran cold when he heard that. You weren't much of a party person and I was sure you didn't like most people out there but the fact that you'd bumped into a guy was even weirder. The pang of concern that had been latent now rumbled in his chest with force.

"Where is the party?"

“At Trina Smith's house. It is down the street…”

"I know where it is," he replied. Eddie had done a couple of sales for her and her friends "I'll be right over, if you find her, please keep her quiet and I'll find you ok?"

“Many say that she left the house, perhaps she is in the yard or on the street”

" I get it. Thanks Rob, take care of yourself”

"See you Eddie, good luck," she said goodbye and after that the boy rushed to his room to put on the first jeans he found and a jacket that was lying on the floor.

The road wasn't that long and was made even shorter by the dangerous speed at which he was driving. The idea that your face was bleeding terrified Eddie because he didn't know what those animals were capable of. A woman had been beaten, that was too much to say.

He parked in an available corner and started walking towards the house, listening to the laughter and music that came from there. He was already mentally reviewing the questions he could ask guests sober enough to find you, but it wasn't necessary as he found you standing with your body leaning against a post by the sidewalk.

“Y/N?” he asked, bending down so he could search your face. Robin wasn't lying, your cheek was full of dried red liquid and your lip looked split at one end. It wasn't as bad as he'd imagined, but it still made his blood boil.

“Munson?” you asked confused, looking up from narrowed eyes. It was obvious that you were drunk "Are you coming to break your nose too?"

"Did you break his nose?" he asked, unable to keep a bit of amusement from his voice. Even in your state you were a bully and it comforted him to know that the bastard hadn't walked away unscathed “Very metal, baby. But no, I'm here to take you home."

"I can go by myself, I don't need your help" you spat. You tried to walk, but after only a few steps you stumbled and Eddie laughed to himself as he grabbed your waist to help steady you.

“Obviously not. So either you leave voluntarily or I'll drag you to my car,” he murmured. With no choice but to lean on him to start walking and as you went the sounds of the party became smaller and smaller and were replaced with the calm of the night. Then Eddie helped you into the passenger seat with silence hanging between you "Where do you live?" he asked, but you didn't answer. You didn't want to go to your house, but you didn't want to have to tell him either, so noticing your lack of response he started the engine and started driving in a direction you didn't know.

It was obvious he wanted to ask questions and so did you, but instead you just kept staring out the window, your eyelids threatening to close many times. When you finally pulled over you were in a trailer park and still with all the alcohol in your system you were able to deduce that this was where Eddie lived.

"I'll stay here" you exclaimed, with your raspy voice "Tomorrow morning I'll be gone, I promise"

“You're not going to do that,” he said. There was no room in his tone for a contradiction "Come on inside, it's not as bad as you imagine" he continued and after going down he opened the door for you and practically carried you to the entrance. He was right, it was a very common trailer and you could see many books scattered on the table, which you assumed were the boy's homework. Your vision was too blurry to register any more details and you tensed a bit when you noticed that he was leading you to his room.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm going to take you to my bed," he explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. But from the way your face paled, Eddie knew there was something you weren't telling him. "What's wrong?"

“Did they call you? Are you going to come here?"

"They? What are you talking about?" Eddie asked with a frown. He had never been the smartest but perhaps hanging out with Dustin had given him a few of his deductive abilities, since it took just a few seconds for him to understand what was happening "Y/N, what did those bastards do to you?” he asked, anger painted all over his face, "Did they touch you?"

“They wanted to do it. That's why I hit him” you clarified. He felt his heart shrink a little and one of his fists clenched tightly as if he was preparing to fight too "And I swear if you're with them, I..."

"Never. Not in a million years” he was quick to say “Don't even think about it, I would never do that to you. To nobody” he insisted and his voice sounded completely sincere “I promise I just want you to be able to rest because the couch is shit and I don't think you're comfortable. But if you want, we can go back there”

“I would like the bed” you dared to say. The truth was that your back was killing you and if you wanted to recover a little you would have to trust him. Eddie nodded and led you into the bedroom, where he helped you lie down. You couldn't appreciate too much, but what you did notice is that there wasn't a single space that was unoccupied; posters, furniture, photos, instruments, magazines, empty cans, full cans, and even a blanket with the name of his band. It was a most picturesque place, in your opinion.

“Robin was the one who called me. She's the short-haired one who plays in the band, she's my friend and she thought maybe she could use some help. She tried to look for you, but she didn't find you” Eddie explained, as if he wanted you to finish trusting him. Of course appearances could be deceiving, but thanks to all the years of knowing him you didn't imagine him capable of taking advantage of you while you were drunk so you relaxed considerably. "What were you doing there, anyway?" His words sounded almost like a scolding.

“Alcohol and drugs are always free at those parties” you replied while shrugging your shoulders “Things just got a little out of hand”

"Hm," he hummed, nodding his head gently. He looked at you and remembered the small detail of the stain on your face, so he got up and looked for a clean cloth that he moistened slightly, then extended it in your direction "You should clean yourself"

"Ajam" you murmured, getting up with difficulty and taking the piece of cloth with your hand. When you began rudely rubbing your cheek Eddie's eyes widened, lunging at you.

"No, don’t do that. You are going to get hurt. Do you want me to help you? No. I'll help you, even if you don't want to” he rambled. He took the rag from your hand after sitting down next to you he gingerly cupped your chin. You didn't say anything while he cleaned you up and for a second you felt like you were going to fall asleep under his soft touch, until a throat clearing brought you back to reality "You have to clean your lip too or it's going to get infected" he explained. He had a poor attempt at a first aid kit next to him; just a half-baked bottle of hydrogen peroxide that no longer had a label and some cotton balls. So you agreed and you decided to do this yourself because you didn't want Eddie Munson's hands near your mouth.

He watched the entire process and after that there was silence between you again, for a long time, but it wasn't as awkward as he expected it to be. Eddie was searching for something to say for conversation, but his thoughts were overwhelmed by the sound of a quiet sob.

You had started crying.

"Hey, hey, what's up?" he exclaimed, panicking completely. His hands were floating in the air not knowing where he should place them “Does it hurt?” he asked, but you awkwardly shook your head “Is it because of those guys? Did they hurt you? Do you want me to tell Steve to kick the crap out of them?" Eddie insisted, but you didn't say anything. It was obvious that you were trying to contain the tears with all your might.

“This is stupid, I'm coming home” you sobbed as you tried to get up without falling on your face. But it was clear you wouldn't even make it to the road, and he panicked and did the only thing he could think of.

He reached out with both arms and wrapped you in a hug.

He didn't even know why he had done it, maybe it was the automatic response he had to seeing someone cry, but the moment you fell on his chest he realized it was probably a bad idea. Knowing you, the safest thing was that you were going to push him or yell at him or insult him or all at the same time.

But even though you tried to walk away, the weight of your pain was greater and you ended up giving in completely. You relaxed into his hold, all the tears you had held back for months were spilling onto the young man's shirt. When was the last time someone hugged you? You could bet it had been years.

"Don't worry, we're fine" he whispered, with a sweet voice that you had never had the joy of hearing, while he ran one of his hands up and down your back. You were completely heartbroken, crying so loud that the neighbors could surely hear you if they wanted to, and Eddie never thought he could see you in such a state.

You were the tough girl in school, who could defend his ideas tooth and nail, who faced others without fear, and who always managed to find a new way to annoy him.

And now you were in his arms, curled up in a ball and expelling all the water from your body in tears.

Of course this was driving Eddie crazy. A few days ago you had wished him a happy weekend with two middle fingers, it had been years and years in which you two shamelessly despised each other that you were collapsing in a single night.

Not even in one night, they were breaking down with a fucking comforting hug.

"I can't take it anymore," you said, with your voice muffled by the fabric of your shirt "My life is a mess and I live in a shitty place and everything... everything is horrible" he was still, thinking about what he should answer before that. But luckily you kept talking "And he was gone for so many years and now he comes back as if nothing happened, hoping that the doors are open and we love him as if he hadn't been the most son of a bitch father" a short pause that was due to a sob “And he yells at us and calls us out and I just want it to be over. Because every day I feel worse than the previous one like I'm drowning in a huge well that no one is going to pull me out of because I don't have a single fucking friend. Because I drink to forget everything and I'm so pathetic and…” you couldn't continue, the overflowing tears didn't leave you, and after this he didn't say anything, but he pressed you closer against his body as if that could make any difference. As if with that he could remove, even a little, the weight of your problems.

Eddie hadn't the slightest idea that all of this was happening to you and now that he was, he felt bad that he never noticed. Most likely, that was why you had been in a bad mood all week and he had been so selfish as to recriminate you for not paying attention to him. But now you were there, opening all your feelings and fears with him, while he was frozen. It was obvious that he didn't know what to say to that, he didn't know you well enough to give an opinion, and yet he wanted to help.

“You can stay here to sleep if you don't want to go home” he offered “And if you need to go, I can take you too. Whatever you need, just ask me,” he murmured, hoping that meant something. For him the best way to help someone was to be of use to them, as he tried to do with you.

“I'm so lonely,” you sobbed, louder than the others, and Eddie frantically shook his head.

“You're not, Y/N. You don't…” Eddie tried to formulate words of encouragement, but he couldn't. So he just held you tight and waited for you to calm down. At some point Eddie couldn't hear you crying anymore and looking down he realized that you had fallen asleep.

He carefully separated you and placed you in a comfortable position between the yellowish pillows, while he covered you with a sheet that Wayne had just bought him.

Eddie still couldn't understand what causality of fate had decided that tonight the girl who could barely stand to be in a room with him would sleep in his bed, but he decided not to make a big deal out of it. For an instant, just a thousandth of a second, through his mind he crossed the idea of lying down next to you to sleep. But he was aware that he didn't sit still at all when he slept and he didn't know how you would react, so he better grabs a pillow and walks down the hall to the couch.

In a few minutes, he was asleep too.

When you opened your eyes, your head hurt horribly and your whole body was sore, but even with these discomforts you couldn't help but notice the ceiling of the room that definitely wasn't yours. You panicked at the first second and sat bolt upright, afraid that someone had dragged you to some seedy place and ruined your life. But instead you saw a messy room that made you suddenly remember everything that had happened the night before.

Oh, that made you panic even more.

Some things were still a little blurry, but you remembered the essentials: you had gotten into a fight, Eddie Munson had come to pick you up, and suddenly all the feelings you had been holding back came out like verbal vomit as you cried on your chest. That couldn't be true, no way.

A feeling of tremendous regret flooded your entire system and your mind wandered to what he could do to you now that he had that information. Was he going to tease? Was he going to use your feelings to blackmail you? Was he going to tell the whole world? You didn't even know why you had told him, but most likely it was all because of the alcohol you had drunk and the bad time you had at the party.

The last week had been too hard for you, you weren't lying to him when you said you lived in a shitty place. Your mother was a woman who made a bad choice when she was young; your father. For years you had endured his abuse and his alcoholism until the twins were born and he decided it was best to leave. To be honest, that relieved you a lot and you didn't feel guilty at all. You had begun to dress as you wanted, to discover what you liked, and to have your own personality. But the dream didn’t last long, at some point your mother couldn’t work a single shift and you had to take care of the twins during the afternoons and evenings, when they weren’t at school, with Fridays off for you. It was a pace of life that you had gotten used to and although it was heavy it was much better than having your father at home. That was why when a week ago he had arrived, drunk and screaming, you had felt so upset. He was worse than you remembered him and he had made your siblings cry, but even with his insistence you didn't let him in the house. He was persistent and it was as if he had been sucking the vitality out of you every time he went to claim you were a bad daughter. And the ghosts of the past were sometimes too heavy.

You were praying with all your might that Eddie had gotten out of the trailer or that he was busy or whatever so that he wouldn't notice that you had woken up. You staggered to get up and search for your shoes, not missing the chance to take a curious look around the place. Now that your vision was less blurry, you could notice the drawers with cassettes, the discarded clothes, and even a box of condoms near some inappropriate magazines. You rolled your eyes at the latter and thought about when was the last time Eddie Munson had touched a… person, making a mental note to tease him about it later.

When you finished putting on your shoes you noticed that you had lost the scrunchie that was holding your hair somewhere and you internally cursed that you had lost your favorite. You sneaked out of the place, not sure where the front door was or if anyone else lived in the house until you ran into the boy sprawled out on the couch while he was snoring a little. The position didn't look comfortable at all, but he seemed to be and you walked past to where you assumed the exit was. But you didn't count on tripping and knocking over a metal tray that was on the nightstand, causing a ruckus loud enough to make him jump awake.

"Trying to run away before twelve, Cinderella?" he asked, with a raspy voice and a sleepy smile.

“Let's not make a big drama out of this. I'll just go,” you answered, slightly uncomfortable. But when you tried to open the door, it was locked.

“First of all, we aren’t foolish enough to give thieves a free pass. And, secondly, you can't leave without having had some breakfast. Probably the only thing in your stomach is that cheap booze,” he said. Eddie stood up fully and stretched his arms up, allowing the shirt he was wearing to ride up just a little to reveal the edge of his boxers and his happy trail. Without you having wanted it, your eyes had already gone to those details and you were only grateful that he didn't notice “Feel free to take what you want. We have cereal, or eggs, or cereal, or a half-wilted banana, or cereal…”

"Cereal, I get it," you said, trying not to express too much. You didn't know why Eddie wasn't kicking you out of there or saying mean things to you yet, so you had to move carefully.

Eddie walked around yawning and rubbing his face with one hand while scratching his butt cheekily with the other. You stood in your spot and when he noticed he beckoned to you in annoyance.

“Are you deaf or what? Come sit down and have breakfast” he exclaimed, a little more like he normally sounded when he talked to you. You walked over and took the plate he gave you, as well as the box of Lucky Charms from which you poured yourself a portion.

Both of you began to eat in silence and although at first you took that as a sign that he was upset, the truth was that he really wasn't. He even looked nonchalant, eating huge spoonfuls as he read the label of a can lying around, completely oblivious to you. You decided to take advantage of the opportunity and finished your plate of food only to serve yourself another because he wasn't lying when he said that surely you only had alcohol in your body.

"Huh, thanks for breakfast" you answered when you finished, a little shy. You wondered if it would be a good idea to talk about what you had the night before and find out if that had changed his perception of you in any way. Or did you just want to know whether to expect an unfavorable reaction or forget it for peace “Do you mind if I use your phone? My mom is probably wondering where I am."

"Of course not, use it" he smiled. You walked over to it and called home, hoping someone would be available. It was heard that they picked up the phone and then a little voice.

"Yeah?"

"Hi, Amy" you laughed "I'm Y/N, is mommy around?"

“She's asleep” exclaimed the little girl “Where are you? Why didn't you come last night?"

"Something happened, I'm at the house of a..." for a moment you doubted that it was the right thing to say and out of the corner of your eye you could see that Eddie is looking at you "friend. If mom wakes up, can you tell her I'll be right back?"

"Okay"

“Thank you, flea. See you in a while"

"Goodbye," said the high-pitched voice and then the beeps sounded indicating that she had hung up.

You wiped your sweaty palms on your pants and turned to him, who didn't even pretend he hadn't been listening to your conversation.

“So we are friends”

“I couldn't tell her I was at the idiot from school's house,” you said, but he burst out laughing.

"I don't think that language is suitable for a girl of..."

"6 years"

"A girl of 6 years" he completed. You were silent for a moment, you looking everywhere except at him and with him seeing nothing but you.

"I guess I'll go, bye" although you rushed towards the exit, he was faster and managed to get in the way, forcing you to stop.

"Let me take you"

"I can walk"

"I realize that. But it's Saturday morning, it's cold, and you're hungover."

You had to admit that your whole body ached and the idea of going in the car seemed very appealing, but you weren't going to allow yourself to owe someone like Eddie Munson any more favors.

"Still, I prefer to walk" you answered, so he gave up. He moved out of the way and looked for the key, in the tray that you had thrown at the beginning, to open the door and let you out "See you later"

"Be careful," he murmured. You had only walked to the porch when he spoke again "Y/N"

"Yes?"

“If one day you want to talk to someone you… you can ask me. I don't judge” he replied. You looked him straight in the eye looking for any sign of lying or an iota of mockery, but the truth is that you could only find sincerity in his gaze.

“You are not going to understand”

"I can try," he insisted. You just wanted him to keep quiet and pretend that nothing had happened. You didn't want him to feel sorry for you.

"Goodbye, Munson" you murmured, going down the stairs and walking on the grass without letting him say anything else.

The next time Eddie saw you, the vitality had returned to you. Although you still had those soft dark spots under your eyes, your face looked less worried and the eyes had returned to glow as they normally did. He assumed that the problems (or at least parts of them) had been resolved over the weekend.

And luckily it was because while you hadn't completely gotten rid of your father, you had managed to get him away with some help from Chief Powell and a threat of a restraining order. That was a relief for you and especially for your mother, so at least you were able to breathe more freely when you entered the school.

"What's up, loser?" you said as you walked past Eddie, taking him by surprise. You didn't stop to look at him, but he grinned at the sound of your voice and stayed that way for the rest of the class. From time to time, you caught him looking at you, and each time you raised your eyebrows at him, as if asking for an explanation, but he just laughed and shook his head. There was something different in the way he was looking at you as if something about you was funny, but you were very grateful that it wasn't some kind of pity or sadness for you.

The two of you didn't speak for the rest of the day, but you did share a couple of teases and smiles that lightened the mood. You kept sitting by yourself and reading the second half of Carrie while he climbed on tables and yelled at jocks.

After a couple of days Eddie came to school with his hair tied up and you were indignant when you noticed the piece of blue cloth that adorned his hair, but when you claimed it, he just laughed.

"I wanted a souvenir, can you blame me?" he murmured softly "Besides I look better than you"

"Oh sure," you said sarcastically, "He was my favorite, you know that?"

"I was going to give it to you, but now that you say you care so much, I think I've lost the urge," he exclaimed, smirking at you. From that day on he used the hair tie daily, sometimes in his hair and other times just on his wrist, but always bringing with him that part of you that he had stolen from you. You weren't going to admit it, but it hadn't bothered you as might be expected.

So time passed and things continued their course. The world went round and round without stopping to think about anyone and you had to learn to live with it.

One night Eddie heard about the party that Chance was throwing for the basketball team and everyone from school that he wanted to go to, so he packed his lunch box full of joints, cocaine, and whatever substances he had on hand to attend. He didn't like these people, but in the end, money was money.

When the boy arrived he was already packed with people and that made it easy for him to mingle with everyone. He would find a quiet corner of the house to sell and when it was all gone, he would go back to his trailer to sleep like a baby.

After selling a couple of things he decided he could smoke a cigarette just to lighten up the night and he almost choked on the smoke when he felt someone drop next to him on the couch and take the cigarette out of his mouth with two fingers.

"You don't mind sharing, do you?" you laughed, inhaling deeply on the tobacco and slapping the boy's thigh briefly. Eddie's eyes lingered for a second on the way your lips suckled and he inadvertently blushed. He thanked God the place was dark or you would have noticed.

"What are you doing here?" he muttered. You took the cigarette out of your lips and put it back on his before answering.

"Alcohol and drugs are free, remember?"

"Well, get drunk as much as you can because I won't give you an ounce of weed" he mocked. You were wearing a black midriff-baring top and ripped black jean pants, while Eddie had opted for a flannel shirt that must have belonged to Wayne, with blue jeans. Both he and you couldn't help but glance in appreciation.

"Then I don't have anything to do around here anymore," you said sadly. You were about to get up when he spoke again.

"And how have you been?"

“Since when do we ask each other personal questions?”

“I was just trying to be nice and see if you deserved something free, but if not, suck my dick”

“Oh, I don't think I could find it”

"Do you want to try?" he scoffed. But the closeness between you, the cigarette resting sweetly between his lips, and the deep voice he used made you a little tense.

"I have been fine. Existing” you admitted, in an attempt to divert the topic “And you? How's your lazy life going?"

"I'm doing fine," he replied, just as calmly. A couple of girls came over to shop and Eddie treated them politely just because they were pretty. As you listened to him talk to them you realized that he wasn't as clumsy at flirting as you had thought "I guess you'll stay here, huh?"

"If it doesn't bother you" you replied, taking his cigarette away again to take a drag "And if it bothers you too, I don't care."

You didn't talk about too much with Eddie, but that didn't mean you weren't having a good time with him. The scent of the only cigarette he had ever smoked was in your nostrils and mixed with a cheap but good-smelling cologne he wore.

When the lunch box was almost completely empty, Eddie slammed it shut and turned to you.

“Do you want to go outside for a smoke?” he asked him, raising his voice over the music someone had put on. You nodded and both of you walked towards the exit until at some point Eddie took your hand to avoid losing you. He was in the front, so you just let him drag you to a more secluded section outside. You ended up in a pool that was surrounded by a fence in a clear sign that you couldn't go there, but it meant nothing to him.

"Do you want a Marlboro or do you want marijuana?"

“Are you going to charge me?” you asked before and he smiled while he shook his head "Then give me a joint"

So he did, and when you placed it in your mouth, Eddie reached over to put it in the fire of a worn black lighter. You caught him looking at your lips, but you didn't say anything. Then he took off his tennis shoes and pulled his jeans up to his knees to put his feet in the pool, which you imitated after a while.

The two of you smoked until there was only a small butt left that you tossed aside and it didn't take long for the effects of the drug to kick in. You could see it in Eddie's narrowed eyes and the goofy smile he had, even though you were sure you looked the same.

"I like your toenails," he exclaimed, his words slow and soft as you gazed down at your own toes with electric blue nail polish.

"You're so high, Munson" you laughed, and then he joined you. Your head felt heavy, but you'd just be careful not to fall forward, or else you'd end up soaking wet. "I never thanked you for that night," you said suddenly. He turned to you to try to get a better look at you and unintentionally he leaned closer "So thanks I guess"

“I hope things have improved”

"Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?" you asked. Although that's supposed to make you happy, the phrase sounded more like a claim.

"What are you talking about?"

“I haven't heard you scoff once about that. You haven't even blamed me for what happened or told anyone, why?"

“Is that what you expect of me? What is an idiot who takes advantage of girls and makes fun of sensitive family situations? I thought you had a better idea of me” he answered, sounding upset and hurt.

"You hate me"

"Oh come on, do you think that shit is serious?" Eddie asked, crossing his arms and frowning at you. “Maybe at first it was real hate, but we're not in middle school anymore. It's a kid thing."

"Then why do you always bother me?"

"Because it's fun. But I'm not cruel enough to mess with something I know hurts you. That's the job of guys like Jason” he argued, nodding towards the interior of the house “And you? Do you really hate me?"

"Maybe," you muttered, though the word sounded more like a question. "I mean, you're annoying."

"My love, there is a huge difference between someone being annoying and hating someone," he murmured. Eddie was too close to you, speaking only in whispers that smelled like what you just smoked “And if you really hated me, you wouldn't be here with me. You need passion to hate and you don't have it. I can see it in your eyes,” he said, exhaling this last sentence with something akin to pain. You didn't know what was happening to Eddie, but what you did know was that he was too close and it was making you nervous.

It's amazing how easily you decided you'd hate this man, you were second-guessing if it was truly worth doing. Being blinded by your supposed dislike for him had never let you notice that over the years he had become more attractive or that he was a sweet person. You didn't even know what you were feeling at the time, to be honest. You only knew that you were very high and that Eddie was sighing almost on your lips.

"So you're saying you never hated me?"

“You're still too maddening. Weeks ago, I could have vomited hearing you speak."

"And what made you change your mind so suddenly?" you asked in annoyance, while you rolled your eyes and took some distance.

"The night I picked you up," he answered. You turned around curiously, hoping he would have a more elaborate response than that. There was silence for a moment and then he spoke "That day I found out that you have feelings, to everyone's surprise" when he said this last, you tapped him lightly on the shoulder and he laughed "And I don't know... seeing you like that made me feel strange”

"I don’t want your pity"

"It's not a matter of pity, it's a matter of empathy," he said. You felt as if you were mesmerized by his huge brown eyes “We are social outcasts, you and I, and you know it perfectly. And it is very stupid that we are striving to maintain. We like the same things, we have the same ideas, we could be good friends if we put our minds to it, would that be so bad for you? Do you really despise me enough to deny yourself a chance to stop feeling lonely?”

You were silent for a moment, the thoughts in your head clumsily trying to sort themselves out. The water from your feet felt cold, your hands were sweaty and you wished with all your might that you hadn't smoked so that this conversation would be more coherent. But part of you also knew that if you weren't in that state, this would never have happened.

“And what are you suggesting? That we just pretend nothing happened and move on?"

“I could get over it, the worst thing you ever did to me was that time you put frogs in my backpack” he laughed, remembering and inevitably making you do too “But I don't think you're bad, just like I'm not. I just think we've carried on a pointless rivalry for so long that it's starting to feel unnecessary now,” he mused. You were still silent, now looking at the blue floor of the pool below you "Either that or you're completely obsessed with me and you can't face your feelings so that's why you bother me daily"

“Woah, stop there, the weed got too high in your brain,” you said between laughs, hearing him laugh too. This short moment you were sharing with him made you realize that it wasn't that unpleasant to be with him. In fact, it wasn't at all.

"Then? Shall we call a truce and join forces to save each other from ending up at the bottom of the social hierarchy?”

“I am at the bottom. You have friends"

“And they could be yours, too,” he said, gently, as he reached out his hand toward you, “Just throw away all these years of unwarranted hatred and start over. You know, like civilized people."

Was it that simple? So short was the step you had to take to end that distance that you yourselves had imposed?

"I doubt very much that you are a civilized person or that you ever have been" you smiled, at the same time that you reached out to take his hand "But it could work"

"It's nice when you're not being a grumpy bitch, don't you think?" he scoffed. In revenge you pushed him into the pool, but he wasted no time pulling you by the leg and giving you the same fate.

You splashed to annoy him and suddenly you were already in a water fight, laughing that your stomach hurt. Above you two the stars seemed to be shining brighter than any other night and the moon witnessed how the water washed away any grudge you had for each other. So, for a brief moment, the whole world was just him and you.

Even though Eddie didn't become your best friend overnight, you were making progress. The first few days you tried (really yes) to stop being rude to each other, but it was something so decisive for your relationship that you couldn't put it aside. Of course, over time the insults were accompanied by smiles or winks from the boy as a silent signal that you were just kidding.

After a few weeks Eddie had already introduced you to his friends and to your surprise they liked you. Most of them were younger than him and you even met the one responsible for him rescuing you from the drunken mess you had been. His name was Robin, he was so nice and it amused you to hear her tangle with her own words.

You remembered Steve Harrington from early High school and although at first you were reluctant to talk to him, when you finally did you realized that he had changed a lot since that time. He was less cocky and even a little dumber. But in a cute way, of course.

But the one you were getting to know the most, obviously, was Eddie. During classes sometimes you would have an exchange of words or he would make you smile. You had found out that he was also a big Lord of the Rings fan and once you spent almost an hour talking about just that. Contrary to what you expected he was quite intelligent and that helped for another couple of deeper talks.

A couple of months was enough for you to be invited to sit permanently with the Hellfire club. You had fit in well with the group and they were a lot of fun, always managing to make you feel good even on the worst days. A part of you was very grateful for this change, because whenever a gray cloud wanted to settle, one of the people around you would blow it away from you. Sometimes unintentionally, other times intentionally.

You were even invited to one of Corroded Coffin's glamorous concerts and a part of you thought that Eddie looked hot playing guitar, but you wanted to take that thought straight to the grave if possible. But the problem was that those kinds of thoughts came more frequently than you would have liked. He was an extremely physical person and most of the time he was touching you in some way, whether it was putting his arm around your shoulders in a friendly way or moving you to the side by his palm on your waist, or whatever else occurred to him. the. Sometimes he would even come up behind him when you were sitting and he would massage your shoulders to entertain himself while you melted at his touch.

And of course you weren't the only one feeling this way, Eddie also suffered his own ordeal every time you took the pack of cigarettes from the back pocket of his jeans or when you were upset and confronted him, your face so close to his that it was difficult for him to find a valid argument to defend himself.

But, as always, both of you thought that it was best to do what you had agreed to from the beginning. Forget and move on.

"Your final work will be in pairs, please be quiet so you can hear your name" spoke the art teacher, trying to be heard above all the noise. You liked the class (even though you weren't the most skilled) so you hoped you'd get a good classmate. You looked around for someone you had a preference for; Stephanie was very good at painting, but Linda was better at drawing. There was another boy, Marcus, who was also quite skilled and who you wouldn't mind working with. You waited patiently until the professor murmured your last name and listened for the next "With Munson."

Your neck turned to see the aforementioned and you frowned in an expression of annoyance mixed with disappointment, while he smiled broadly.

"Soooo" you heard behind you, once the class ended, while an arm was around your shoulders "Your place or mine?"

“Can't we each make a part and then put them together? I don't need to spend more hours than necessary around you” you complained, just to annoy him.

"My house then," he continued, ignoring you.

"It's stupid, of so many people there, why did he have to play us together?"

"Fate, baby," Eddie muttered, shrugging. You had science in the next hour and you knew he was going to go to another room. "At 5?" he asked and you nodded. It was lucky it was Friday, otherwise you wouldn't have been able to accept "Don't be late!" he told you, pointing a finger at you as he headed down the hall.

You only had time to eat and nap at home before walking to Eddie's house, the sound of Kate Bush filling your ears. You had met her thanks to a red-haired girl named Max, whom you had once helped. Well, helped is a saying, because she was being picked on by some guys and you thought you could defend her, but when you got closer, she already had one pinned, so you just took care of the other one. Then you found out that she was friends with Dustin too and that she lived in the same park as Eddie, so you talked to her from time to time and that's how you ended up meeting her favorite singer. In fact, when you arrived, she was feeding a stray dog and you were able to wave to her.

You knocked on the trailer door three times but no one answered so you started banging on it repeatedly and loudly, waiting for him to deign to open it for you. But you were surprised when the door was opened by a tired-looking older man.

“Huh, hi,” you said, suddenly feeling embarrassed at the way you'd been knocking on the door. “Sorry to bother you. I came with Eddie, for a school project "

“Ah, there you are” you suddenly heard. It was him, who saw you from behind him "Just in time" he laughed, looking at the watch on his wrist "Wayne she is my partner, her name is Y/N. Y/N, he's my Uncle Wayne."

“It is a pleasure to meet you. Sorry for knocking so loud."

"Since when do you apologize for being annoying?"

“Eddie, don't be rude” his uncle scolded him, before you could say anything “Welcome, make yourself at home. I'll go to town for a few things, but you guys have fun”

Goodbye Wayne. Be careful” exclaimed the boy, coming forward to hug the man. You didn’t know that he was so affectionate and you smiled in a way that wasn't burlesque, but like tenderness.

"I'll be back in a while," he said and then walked out the door. Family ties weren't something you and Eddie had talked about openly but the fact that he lived with his uncle made you imagine that he too had his own difficult history. But you weren't going to pressure him into telling you anything if he didn't want to.

“Did you bring your material?”

“What you asked me for and a couple of dry paints that my siblings had”

"That will do," he laughed, as he shrugged. He looked quite comfortable and the clothes he was wearing were already worn, but for some reason they seemed soft. “We can go to my room if you want. It will be more comfortable that way” he suggested, so you took a couple of steps and followed him down the hall. You had only been there once, but now it looked cleaner and you couldn't help but make fun of it. Eddie didn't say anything, he just laughed and flopped onto the newly made mattress “I was thinking maybe we could use that finger painting technique and objects and all that. The one we saw last week."

"It could work," you said cheerfully. You took a curious look around the place and Eddie smiled when he noticed.

"What are you thinking about the view?"

"That looks like a virgin's room," you said without a filter and when you realized it Eddie was already laughing out loud.

"I love that you are so transparent with what you think" he replied amused, but without denying or affirming what you just said "You should spend less time criticizing me and more time focused on what needs to be done"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry” you murmured raising your hands. Eddie pulled out a box of art supplies that he had and you were surprised to see some figures that you assumed were for his Dungeons and Dragons club. You assumed that the drawings on the wall were his too and you were impressed, they really were good.

It was about an hour with you guys discussing what you wanted to do and Eddie making some sketches until the last one convinced you and you finally got to work. You were honestly having fun, because the technique was pretty messy and he had lent you a shirt to wear over yours so you wouldn't get dirty. Plus, he'd let you pick out a cassette to put on the stereo, and he'd given you a free beer he had in the fridge.

"You're ruining everything!" he screeched, trying to push you away from the painting. The truth was that you weren't screwing anything up, but he just wanted an excuse so he could get close to you and hear you laugh. Eddie didn't understand why, but lately he was enjoying both.

"Munson!" you yelled back. A small fight developed between you, but it was just powerless slapping.

You stayed like that for a while, none of you wanting to give in, just messing around like a couple of kids who want to have the last word. Once you calmed down, Eddie looked at you breathlessly and noticed a peculiar detail.

"You have something here," he said, pointing to his own right cheek.

"Here?" you asked innocently, carving your fingers over the skin. But you had only succeeded in staining yourself more.

“Yeah, but you—” Eddie began, cutting himself off with a laugh at the green paint on your face “You're the worst at cleaning yourself, just give me that, you silly" he muttered amused, reaching a little to take a handkerchief that he had lying around and putting one hand on your jaw while the other was in charge of rubbing the stain "This is the second once,” he complained, with a tiny smile.

His grip on him was careful and his movements against your cheek gentle. He was so close to you that you could feel your knee hitting his and you looked anywhere but at him in a desperate attempt not to freak out. Even so, out of the corner of your eye you managed to notice the tip of his tongue placed on his lower lip as a sign of concentration and a hint of a smile escaped you.

He was probably cleaning you up longer than necessary, but when he finally finished you turned to look at him, and although you wanted to say something mocking the words got stuck in your throat. Eddie was still holding your chin and after a few seconds he began to gently slide his thumb over your skin while he watched you closely. You could feel his breath hitting your nose and you honestly didn't know what it was that had him so enthralled. But unintentionally, you too got a little lost in his rounded features and bright eyes that you never took the time to appreciate. Although that wasn't the worst, the worst was when you caught your friend blatantly staring at your lips. You knew you had to tell him something, anything, but you didn't feel capable of doing it because you were sincerely enjoying the way he looked at you; as if you were something forbidden... or something desirable, which was even better. Unconsciously your eyes also dropped to his plump lips and you wondered if they felt as soft as they looked. He didn't have a trace of a beard, a sign that he had shaved in the morning with the cream you were smelling thanks to your proximity. Eddie's hand gently tugged at your chin and you obediently lifted your face to where he meant to take you. It was clear you were going straight for his lips, but with an inch to go Eddie suddenly released you and stepped away from him. Then a scandalous sneeze.

Nerves combined with surprise made you giggle, which then turned into laughter.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized, actually looking sorry.

"Are you trying to tell me I smell bad?" you dared to say to cut the tension, making him imitate your laughter.

Both of you knew perfectly well what was going to happen had it not been for the interruption of that sneeze and that was why your cheeks had turned a deep red and you avoided looking at each other. The distance was no longer so short, which allowed you to think more clearly.

“We should continue with the work, we are almost done”

“Huh, yes. You're right,” Eddie exclaimed, trying his hardest not to stutter.

You were quiet from then on, just listening to the songs filling the room and concentrating on painting your own section of the canvas in front of you. From time to time, you looked up to see him and were grateful that your eyes never met, even when Eddie was doing the same.

You were too worried to figure out what the hell that meant. You could have guessed the boy's intentions from the beginning, with the simple fact of your fingers holding his face, but still you let him do it, and not only that but you also helped. A very deep part of you had felt eager and aroused to close the distance and see what he had to offer you. But why? That was the real question.

“I think it turned out really well for us,” you said, after admiring the final product of your work “Considering we did it in a couple of hours and using mostly our fingers” you added, hearing him laugh.

"I'll put it on the shelf to dry and bring it back Monday," he informed you, to which you nodded. It was already dark and you had nothing else to do there, so you thought of your only logical option: leave.

“I have to go home, but see you later”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Eddie exclaimed, almost immediately, "I can't give you a ride because there's something wrong with the van and I'm going to check it out this weekend, but I could still walk you if you want."

This was the second time he was offering to share a little more time after being at his house and you knew you'd regret it if you said no again, so you agreed. He seemed quite happy and only had to put on his tennis shoes and a big black sweatshirt to be ready. When you left the trailer Max was also leaving his and just as you did when you arrived, you also said goodbye. She didn't say anything, but she would make sure to tell her friends that she had seen you out with Eddie that night.

Your house was so far from the trailer park, so you and he would be together for about a half hour, by your calculations.

"Did you hear Iron Maiden announced a new album?" he said to break the ice. That was enough for you two to start talking (as almost every time) about music. Eddie had both hands in the pocket of his sweatshirt and was walking more shyly than usual, maintaining a goofy grin most of the time.

Months ago you wouldn’t have imagined that you would be walking so happily by his side, so it was still a bit overwhelming at times. But you liked him a lot, Eddie was a good person despite everything and he could tell that he cared about you, otherwise he wouldn't be wasting his time bringing you home.

Suddenly Eddie started talking about a very funny anecdote with Robin, but the way he talked about her was so animated and loving that you felt a tug in your chest that you didn't understand why. You stopped listening for a second because of the idea that had crossed your mind and you had the urge to express.

"You like her?" you asked suddenly. Eddie snapped shut and looked at you with a frown.

“Robin?” he said and you nodded. After this he let out a laugh "It wouldn't work, believe me"

"But do you like her?" you insisted, not wanting to stick with a half answer.

"Why so much interest?" he scoffed, nudging you friendly with his shoulder, while you rolled your eyes.

“If you don't want to answer me that's fine, I don't care. I was just curious,” you snorted. Eddie seemed very amused by the whole thing and was looking down at you with a wide grin.

“She likes someone else and even though she's a great friend, she’s not my type at all. So no, I don't like her” he replied. You nodded softly, not knowing what else to say, when suddenly his arm was entwined with yours and he pulled you closer to him. "Are you jealous?" he asked playfully against your ear.

"What? Why should I be?" you exhaled indignantly, trying to get away from him, but instead of letting go, he put his arm around your shoulders. His hair reached your cheeks and his body was so warm that you were about to ask him to stop so you could hug him properly.

But that was unthinkable, how could you feel or think that kind of thing for him? It wasn't right, was it?

"I can walk alone from here if you want," you said, after a few minutes of being silent. His arm hadn’t left your body until that moment.

"Are you sure? It looks kind of dark,” he exclaimed, glancing at the streets beyond.

"I'll be fine. Thank you for having me…” you started to say, but you were interrupted when you saw a car passing by. Without thinking twice, you grabbed Eddie's sleeve and pulled him to a tall, leafy tree that was out there, letting his body cover you.

"What's going on?"

"It's my dad" you whispered. Eddie sensed your fear and leaned closer to you, crushing you between his hard trunk and his soft body, while you placed both palms of your hands on his chest. "I don't want him to see me”

"Okay, no problem," he said to reassure you, while he tried to hide you as best as possible from the sight of anyone who passed by. He suddenly thought there was a better way to do it and he used both arms to pull you into a hug, which you didn't refuse. You felt safe with the contact and the softness of the fabric of his sweatshirt was most comforting. After a while you raised your head over his shoulder and realized that, although it was the same car, it wasn't your father.

"It's a neighbor," you informed Eddie, breathing a sigh of relief and resting your cheek against his shoulder as you laughed.

Now that that worry was gone you realized the position you were in and tensed up a bit. The man's palms were planted firmly on your back and there was zero distance between you, so when you raised your head, you almost brushed his lips. Almost.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," you hummed, looking into his eyes. The feeling of heat running through your entire body returned to you and your breathing quickened considerably "I was just scared, but everything is fine" you exclaimed laughing "I'm sorry"

"Don't apologize, it's fine," he insisted, with such gentleness in his voice that it made you shiver. One of his hands went up your side and brushed your hair away from the side of your face, then rested on your cheek. "Maybe this isn't the best time to say it, but I think it's pretty."

"What?"

“Your smile,” he said. The truth had taken you by surprise that answer and the only thing you could do was frown in confusion.

"What?" you repeated, this time with a higher, more nervous voice. You were so, so close to him that it wasn’t necessary to speak more than whispers.

“Your smile is pretty. You're pretty” he continued, completely oblivious to the blush you already had on your cheeks while you panicked. You had completely forgotten about the scare you had been through, now all your attention was on the way Eddie was approaching you.

Your palms were still on his body and if you wanted you could push him away, but you didn't have the willpower to do so. On the contrary, you were slowly stretching upwards. You couldn't think, you couldn't speak or react coherently at that moment, all your mind could process was the urgent need you had for Eddie Munson's lips. So when he moved the last bit of distance you held back a gasp and when he finally kissed you both of you exhaled shakily.

The contact began sweet and careful, so slow that it allowed you to explore all the sensations. His lips tasted like the beer you'd been drinking, the skin where your hands were felt warmer than usual, and ungraspable strands of his hair tickled you. You had your eyes closed and still with some shyness he slid his hand down your neck until he reached the nape of your neck, in an attempt to deepen (but not too much) the contact. So you did and by inertia your hands ended up at the base of his neck, trying to hold him in the kindest way you could.

Eddie pressed your body against the tree and took the opportunity to slide his tongue along the contour of your lips, like a silent request that you agreed to without hesitation. You discovered that he was a skilled kisser and you regretted ever judging him so harshly because right now he was achieving the ideal balance of being tender and driving you crazy at the same time.

You didn't want to cut off contact for fear of taking back what you were doing, so when you got short of breath you parted slightly and then you kissed again. His taste was making you dizzy and you were thanking God you were leaning against a surface, otherwise you would have fallen straight to the floor because of your shaky legs.

“Eddie” you managed to say, after what seemed like an eternity. But this, more than stopping him, encouraged the boy to continue leaving short and fleeting kisses on your mouth.

"Say it again"

"Say what?" You managed to ask between kisses.

"My name. I like how it sounds on you” he confessed, getting you to put on a smirk.

"Edward?"

"No," he said, in a quiet voice, almost like a tantrum "I feel like you're scolding me when you say that"

"So Eddie?" you asked joining your lips almost afterward. You managed to get up a little and take him by the neck of his sweatshirt to reverse positions without stopping kissing him at any time "Eddie..." you started to say, stealing a deep kiss "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie" you continued, between more kisses, as if you wanted to recover at that moment all the times you had called it something else. He thought his man sounded like a song coming from your lips, especially when you were whispering it over his.

You were completely beside yourself, just succumbing to the carnal desires that were buried deep within you for a long time, until you had the strength to stop and look at him. He had red cheeks, pupils shining widely in both eyes, and lips swollen completely. Luckily for you, you didn't feel regret at first glance.

"Wow," he exhaled. You couldn't think of another expression to describe what had just happened and when he started laughing out of sheer nerves you imitated him. Eddie removed his hand from the nape of your neck to lower it to your back, at waist level, while you rested your grip on the fabric of his clothing.

"That was strange"

"You don’t like me?"

"Yeah, it just felt… strange" you laughed and as you did you leaned in a little closer to him "I mean, I didn't think we… I never thought we'd ever get to kiss"

"I like spontaneity," he joked, chuckling. To be honest he felt as if he had just run a marathon, full of adrenaline and excitement, but also very nervous about what just happened could mean for you.

"So…" you started to say, one of your hands fiddling with the chain of the necklace Eddie always wore, "That time you said it bothered you because I couldn't face my feelings you were actually talking about yourself, huh?” you scoffed, seeing him get even more flushed than he already was. "Who would have thought?"

"It’s not like this"

"Since when do you know?"

"Know what?"

"That you are completely obsessed with me" you continued, moving a little closer to provoke him.

"You wish I was!" he laughed as he took you by the wrists and pulled you away a bit. But in the middle of this maneuver, he managed to steal a kiss from you that made you smile.

"Your words and your actions aren’t very congruent, Munson" you joked again. You hadn't stopped touching each other at any time "I really have to go home or my mom is going to worry"

"Let me accompany you"

"No," you said, in a soft but determined voice "I don't..." you started to say, feeling the young man's attentive gaze "Maybe you can come later, yes?"

"Okay," he exclaimed sympathetically, as he let go of your hands and took a step back. Although you had said that you had to leave, you weren’t making the slightest effort to get away, because you wanted to talk to him first. You had discovered in recent months that this served to clarify things and avoid sorrow.

"I don't know why you kissed me, but I liked it," you said absently, hoping to cause some impact or an answer with that, but when you didn't hear him say anything you spoke again "See you Monday"

“I like you” he murmured, as if he had been thinking deeply during those seconds “I didn't know before, but now I do and I wanted you to know too. If that means anything” he timidly confessed to you. You took a step and, as if you hadn't had enough, planted a small kiss on him that made him smile.

"I think you're fucking cute, but sometimes I can't stand you"

“I can shut up if my mouth is busy. Effective and fast”

"You're crazy if you think I'll keep kissing you just like that"

"What if I ask you to be my girlfriend?" he asked, so quickly that he didn't realize it until the words had left his mouth. You crossed your arms and looked him up and down, analyzing the candidate.

"Ask me and then we'll see" you replied playfully. You really couldn't waste any more time “Bye, Eddie. Be careful, please."

"Good night," he murmured. The two of you headed off in opposite directions and when you had gone a few meters you felt the need to look back, only to discover that he had done the same "Love you" he blurted out suddenly, a little louder than normal so you could hear him.

You bit your lip to contain the excited smile that threatened to appear.

"Love you" you replied too, waving goodbye.

You weren’t lying when you said that you never imagined that something like this would happen between you. Eddie wasn’t a person you planned to be in your future and yet there you were, wishing with all your heart that he would keep his promise so you could be more than just friends. Friends, he and you were fucking friends, and to top it off you just kissed him. That sounded so unreal.

You entered the house with the biggest smile of all and butterflies fluttering strongly around your stomach, now knowing that what you felt for Eddie Munson was nothing more than love.

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things 4 #joseph quinn #enemies to lovers #eddie munson enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #its pure cliche

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craftlands · 1 year ago

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#my two cents is that #oppressed groups share many many many things #being oppressed for being poc and being lgbt+ has things that overlap #and r1999 shows many types of oppression#bc in schneiders case. it was the government hating the POOR and refusing to provide for them #in tennants case. she straight up witnesses COLONIALISM in british india. the BRITISH RAJ. during the final stage of indian revolution #in horropedias case. hes clearly forced to mask #its like you said at the end #if you dont fit. you'll be forced to fit or be discarded #that alone can apply to every single oppressed group #the foundation takes arcanist orphans. arcana implies theyre stolen. the theft of children of color has been a prominent issue in history #something can represent many things at once for different ppl! thats what i think #in-game. the arcanist issue is a racial one since theyre heavily implying that arcanists are a DIFFERENT SPECIES altogether #but again. oppression is something all minorities know. its smth we all share to a degree #i feel like exclusively seeing a single portrayal is a disservice to the game and the cool stuff we could all be discussing imo #GUYS CMON IT CAN BE ALL AT ONCE!!! via @jabberwockprince

[gesturing] THIS IS! a really good point! we definitely neglected to mention a lot of the aspects of intersectional oppression in our initial post, and we do overall agree that arcanists more read as a general cipher for the marginalized than one specific group!

our point is, with regards to Manus Vindictae specifically, taking arcanist issues as racial ones get kind of iffy because of that aforementioned "well these people are technically right but also they're terrorists and Obviously Evil" trope, and... yeah, it really does read as that, and that doesn't quite sit right with us.

you can to some extent consider this a way of grappling with that idea and trope and trying to find some interpretation of the story that explains the discrepancy in a game that tends to be surprisingly sensitive and thoughtful about these things otherwise -- hence the comparison to how marginalized people who are "more acceptable" to an oppressive class might turn on their fellows to make themselves seem legitimate and "not like the others." just kind of bad wording on our part in terms of making it seem like it's the Only reading, haha.

(also the reminder that schneider's family is specifically discriminated against due to being poor could quite possibly tie into interpreting the Manus Vindictae as "class traitors" in that pretty much all of the higher-ups are extremely affluent and have ties to other extremely affluent people? shot in the dark there, but it's definitely another interesting interpretation -- thanks for the addition!)

okay, so, hear me out.

the Manus Vindictae work, like, OKAY as initial antagonists? like, don't get me wrong, in retrospect with the Foundation being Basically Fascist, it does come off as a little weird that the main Resistance group are... also like that, but in the opposite direction. it's kind of a tired trope.

HOWEVER. while there are a lot of parallels, i'm not 100% certain that arcanists on the whole are intended to represent racial oppression SPECIFICALLY?

consider:

the Foundation specializes in essentially forcing arcanist children to "act human," with jessica's event SPECIFICALLY being designed around a program that determines how "dangerous" you are based on how acceptable your answers are to what amounts to a personality test

a large number of arcanist characters have flat affects, "strange behavior", and/or intense interests that society as a whole frowns upon

a large number of arcanist characters ALSO are shown to be socially awkward and have difficulty "fitting in" and/or understanding the emotions of others

it is TEXTUAL that arcanists have less logical thoughts and are more creatively oriented, whatever the hell that means

i think given all this, it might be a BIT less of a stretch to say that arcanists as a whole are both metaphorically representative of and quite literally all neurodivergent. the Foundation requires most of its employees to "act human" and discard any "unseemly" interests, after all.

taking them this way, i think the Manus Vindictae work a little better -- they're still neurodivergent, but are specifically the type of people who are radicalized or join cults because someone has preyed on that part of them. at the same time, given how harshly they treat mixed arcanists or even just those who don't agree with them, they're also kind of a cipher for people with "acceptable" neurodivergencies that then turn around and gleefully demonize/dehumanize people with "unacceptable" forms of neurodivergence (yknow -- low empathy, personality and/or cluster-b disorders, systems/plural people).

maybe it's just wanton theorizing on my part, but i do feel like this explains why the Manus Vindictae and the St. Pavlov Foundation have one key thing in common:

unless you are part of the in-group, whatever that may be, you are expected to mask both your face and your undesirable behaviors.

#(SORRY I DIDN'T REPLY AT FIRST. COMP LIT MAJOR YOU KNOW HOW IT IS)#[gesturing] also i hope this doesn't come off as a shutdown we genuinely think these tags are an extremely good addition!#MEDIA ANALYSIS WIN etc etc #reverse 1999 #long post //

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sepublic · 3 years ago

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Really, I think about how Ninjago 2012 kinda contributed to a lot of ideas in my works that evolved into more explicit beliefs I live by today. Albeit not intentionally…

Now a lot of the groundwork already existed in myself. I was the autistic weird, lonely kid who liked unconventional things like reptiles and the like. And I love snakes particularly, so of course I feel sympathetic to the Serpentine. And so of course my very technical mind is alarmed when characters joke about everyone hating snakes, because as far as I could tell, there was no real difference between this and a racial comment.

I think that’s why a lot of ‘weird’ people see themselves in the villains as the people who are demonized, don’t fit in, and/or are unpalatable; And likewise, relate to recent protagonists who DO fight on behalf of that deviancy. Because they’re the heroes we wanted and needed, the people we saw ourselves in, but actually treated kindly by the narrative, with central focus, and validation as being correct, instead of a “nuanced and sympathetic villain who is ultimately too angry and suffers even more for it”.

Which is a trope I DEEPLY hated and still do, especially in a lot of Superhero media, like Batman or whatever. You know the one. Some working-class joe gets horrifically wronged and even mutated because of the cruelty of some rich dude. And in trying to get justified revenge, they’re labelled as threatening by the narrative, written to hurt some innocent people because Reasons. All to justify the Hero taking them down to preserve the status quo!!!

And so the whole episode, the wronged person is treated as the biggest and most dangerous problem. Meanwhile, the corporate bigwig responsible for all of this? The Superhero waxes poetic about making them “face justice” and that’s why you shouldn’t kill them! But what really happens is that they get easily arrested, often non-violently and with minimal conflict, and are forgotten by the story. Probably sent to a cushy white-collar prison, basically a slap on the wrist.

Meanwhile, their victim is repeatedly focused on as the scariest person in the room, THEY get brutally beaten up and have to deal with the agonizing mental, emotional, and physical consequences of their transformation. When they are arrested, it’s in some maximum-security facility. And because they’re part of the rogues gallery now, the poor victim is now condemned to repeatedly fight our protagonist and lose, always suffering. Not allowed to rest in obscurity off-screen like the rich CEO who made it all happen.

I always despised this trope and at times, it made me callously think that the victim SHOULD be allowed to murder, honestly! Respectability politics, what a sham… I guess that’s why I connected so hard to the Serpentine as characters in Ninjago, and felt personally enraged on their behalf. Obviously the show didn’t really want nor expect me to take them seriously as people with actual feelings, but I did.

So I played devil’s advocate. I argued on how inhumane and actually horrific it was, that their entire species was imprisoned, forgotten to time, with no intention of release. And this neglect directly led to the genocide of the Anacondrai. But know, they were an ‘evil species’, so obviously that justifies applying this type of condemnation completely, or even at all!

And so while I liked the Ninja, I also did feel a lot of frustration towards them, particularly Wu who played a part in that original entombment, for what happened. And I saw them and a lot of the “Goody Two-Shoes” archetype as extensions of that aforementioned frustration, of heroes who would rather preserve the status quo and these seemingly innocent bystanders. It felt like the love and kindness of such characters was conditional, basically; You can’t be angry or VIOLENT about how you’ve been mistreated!

(This is why openly kind characters like Steven Universe or Luz Noceda DO feel good to me. Aside from their other issues, it’s the fact that their kindness isn’t conditional, because they ARE amongst the deviants and outcasts and actively do question and challenge the status quo. And successfully, too! They aren’t demonized and turned into a ‘tragic villain’ for it, so their dedication to a certain type of justice feels legitimate and not performative in-universe nor by the writers, it’s a justice people like me are actually included in because they ARE me.

They’re an actual underdog I do see myself in and not just some Generic White Boy who isn’t as special as society told him he should be, and victimized for reasons nobody actually is victimized for because the writers want you to root for an underdog but don’t actually want to advocate for traits they themselves dislike. They merely find the underdog concept attractive despite being totally divorced from it in real life, it’s the victim complex of a lot of white shooters. Meanwhile the underdogs I like actually do recognize whatever privilege they have and extend a kind hand either way.)

Plus, there was Lloyd, who released the Serpentine. And again, the writers didn’t expect me to think too deeply into it because it was a Lego kids show, but I thought of how messed up it was that Lloyd was a lonely and isolated child from a school he wasn’t happy in, and basically an orphan his whole life. And yet his uncle treats him as nothing more than a nuisance he just sighs over and then… Leaves literally hanging??? And he indicates he’s been fully aware of Lloyd’s existence this whole time, yet we’ve never seen him be a parent to this kid? Especially since Wu DID orphan Lloyd by, admittedly justifiably, banishing his father!

It’s that negligence that clearly motivates Lloyd to aspire after his absent father, who at least never did anything wrong to HIM, at least not willingly (you can’t say the same for his mother, as we later find out). No doubt due to being absent, but still. And the fact that Garmadon’s big trait is how much he cares for his son and often drops everything for that love just cements my appreciation for him and Lloyd, and makes Lloyd’s anger at Wu in favor of his dad seem all the more justified. And thus, Wu’s neglect and disappointment is all the more frustrating, because gee no wonder this kid turned out like that.

It’s that negligence to Lloyd that results in the Serpentine being unleashed and causing so much trouble, too! Not that the Serpentine being free to reap havoc on those who imprisoned them is wrong, let’s be real. But from Wu’s perspective it is. And I felt that the deserved anger of Lloyd and the Serpentine was always understated or punished.

And that played a big role in how I characterized the Escapees, because sure they were antagonists. But keep in mind, I was initially writing all of this as one big Ninjago fanfic, so of course I was constrained by the rules of the story and couldn’t actively make Wu or others like him the bad guy, just deeply criticize them. Plus I guess I still had yet to fully shake off the ideas that had been implanted in me. But I often made sure to have the Escapees be deeply sympathetic people who themselves were outcasts and deviants, just like Lloyd and his fellow protagonists.

They were also outraged and frustrated at the world for hurting them, and committed the sin of upsetting the status quo. And for that, they were punished by Wu and Garmadon, imprisoned in the Tower of Tears. But even Garmadon realized they had a bit of a point, which led to him becoming ‘evil’… Again, I was critical of certain tropes but hadn’t quite freed myself from their mental constraints. Also, I was obligated to canon since I was treating this as a slightly-divergent fanfic.

And in my story, I made sure to emphasize that the indefinite imprisonment of the Escapees was a BAD thing. I poured a lot of soul into personally relating with them, having the protagonists do the same. Making the protagonists mourn that because of a personal vendetta against Wu and his family, they weren’t the friends they should’ve been. Because after all, the protagonists didn’t feel like particularly good people either, and also had a lot of anger they wanted to lash out at the world with!

The Escapees were wronged and it was Society (Joker moment) that was the real villain, and that maybe society DID need to bleed a bit for what it did. So I made sure to hammer in to myself and the story that the Escapees weren’t fundamentally terrible people, just hurt, and that they were right about a lot of things they did, to be fair. And ultimately… They get to be happy! They get their revenge on everyone who DID actually hurt them, even Wu (whom they successfully kill, but he comes back to life anyway through shenanigans).

The Escapees recognize they were wrong to target people like Lloyd and his friends and admittedly became the aggressors this time, sure. But they nevertheless get a happy ending, where hope of reconciliation between protagonists and antagonists becomes a thing. And they find genuine happiness in each other, most of them, who bother to actually reciprocate and were themselves victims. Some were legitimately nasty to be honest, but even they got something decent in the end. The Escapees still found each other and so their lives DID get better and there was focus on them healing.

I’m not sure if I’ve lost my point here or if I’m rambling. But yeah. As I grew up, I did eventually become wary of the potentially Red Flag vibes I might’ve been giving off myself, with this talk of Society ™ and lashing out with anger and violence. What was I, a school shooter? But as I became even more mature and cooled things down, I could also see the key differences between my own anger, and that of an actual school shooter that people insisted was a “nice kid” (It’s why we love Susie Deltarune, yet mock Syril Karn). Likewise, I became a lot less “I’m not like other [----]s”, which is admittedly a problem I DID notice in my earlier writing and have since worked to amend.

So I’m not angry at “normal” people anymore, since I also recognize they’re just trying to get along and there IS a solidarity we share. And times have become arguably kinder. So in some ways, I learned to keep myself in check, but in others, I felt vindicated to go further. There is the argument to be made that yes, bitterness and anger ARE feelings we’re entitled to, but maybe those corny status quo superheroes had a point, maybe you DO still need to prioritize your own love in the end (it just isn’t mutually exclusive from the wrath, believe it or not; likewise, it’s why some people are weirdly bitter about becoming mainstream and deny it, if consumerist commodification isn’t a reason).

I think I realized I’m entitled to my anger but also that others around me are, too! And that I need to recognize people as like me, that I would’ve dismissed as ‘normal’, with no understanding of their demographic. And I’ve grown to love and appreciate the conventionally good heroes that aren’t necessarily an underdog but still believe in defending them, like Beast Wars Silverbolt. I guess I always did like them, I just hated the hypocrisy that came across in those specific examples I brought up at the start.

Anyhow, this is also probably why I’ve changed a lot of the villains in my writing, at least in terms of how they’re sympathetic. Because I now realize I really can make my deviants who upset the status quo the protagonists, with the antagonists being enforcers who themselves were victims of the system and don’t seem to comprehend it either. That does get me back to the Escapees…

Because this story is now officially its own thing, so I’m NOT constrained by the canon of Ninjago’s narrative. Which means I can absolutely go all-out in depicting the status quo enforcers as being bad about it (while not pure evil, either). Like recent shows written by others who struggled similarly, I get to advocate for being utterly feral, and also admit that I DO prefer love and happiness, as much as anger is a healing force. I’d rather co-exist with “normal” people than vindictively enact a grudge on them, I just wanted to be treated as a fellow person, never feel the need to return any dehumanization!

So like. I guess there is a bit of a dilemma in adapting the Escapees. Are they still antagonists? Let’s be real, sometimes it’s FUN to have characters be villains! And do legitimately villainous stuff! Maybe I should downplay how they suffered, because I no longer need to condemn those types of fighting outcasts to villainy. Rewrite them to be a bit legitimately nastier and less victims, but still very fond of one another. And/or they are antagonists, but for generally unrelated reasons.

That way, there’s an understanding that these antagonists really are parallels to our protagonists, as fellow deviants who found each other. They’re just admittedly a little too pro-violence, but they can’t entirely blame them because they’ve been fairly angry themselves. In the end, I guess this type of Wrong, sympathetic villain is infinitely more bearable when the protagonist is also technically of this group and validated over their anger, instead of having to begrudgingly save the status quo first because Reasons.

#ramblings #ninjago #writing #my ocs

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wincore · 4 years ago

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romeo roulette | jung yoonoh

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

summary: if finding your soulmate is the same as a damn game of russian roulette, you are determined to not pull the trigger at all. except, you know who your soulmate is and he doesn’t—and given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear.

genre: soulmate au, office au, fake dating, fluff (a lot), angst (a little), romcom, magical realism (??)

words: 21.2k

warnings: language

song recs: playlist here !

a/n: behold ! a kdrama compressed in a fic ! ok i was lying there was more than a little angst but all in good fun <3 i have never experienced working in an office (thanks to the panny) but i tried making it as accurate as i could !! hope you have fun with this <3

It’s not that you’ve never been looked at with a lover’s gaze, it’s just that whatever look Jaehyun has been giving you is mildly uncomfortable. It’s not supposed to be that way. Hell, even his hand clasping yours are a little too clammy for your liking.

Jung Yoonoh. Get your act together.

You wish he were a better actor than this. For someone used to eyes on him in each and every room he’s in, he’s not very good at making eye contact. You’ll be saving this performance. Not to stroke your own ego but at least you know how to behave under strong gazes.

There are three people staring at the two of you and your fingers intertwined, scrutinizing your postures and the expressions on your faces. Maybe Jaehyun should face them instead of glancing at you wordlessly. He’s a terrible liar for someone who acts so smooth.

You look up with a short smile. The aforementioned three are your coworkers—former class rep at uni and your current boss Doyoung, your friend Soojin and Jaehyun’s friend Sicheng from IT. None of them look happy—like it concerns them. If there was a competition for nosy coworkers, this entire group would be winning awards left and right (and that’s including you).

They’re going to find out, an annoying voice giggles inside the quiet corner of your brain. Like hell, they will. You didn’t take up acting lessons in college for nothing. You just need to focus on the details.

This whole charade dates its beginning to a week ago.

If someone were to tell you Jung Yoonoh from marketing is your soulmate, you would most certainly either laugh or take it as a genuine insult. Hence, you were glad when you found that he isn’t.

It was an accident. You had glimpsed at his soulmark, right below his collarbone, at a particularly wild office afterparty—and somehow, you thought it was fitting that his tattoo was a little red heart. For someone born on Valentine’s day (which you know from a night out with coworkers, not because you’re remotely interested), if his soulmark was not something as disgusting as a heart, it would be the textbook definition of irony. But then again, fate is a funny thing. Your soulmark is a heart roughly the same size, with a little more intricacy in the form of a piercing arrow.

Despite all, however, if someone were to ask you if Jung Yoonoh is the worst person to be your soulmate, the answer is no. You can name at least five coworkers off the top of your head that you’d choose him over. You would choose him over Doyoung (and especially his nagging), you would choose him over Taeyong because he’s too hot and you also don’t like men in a higher position than you are, you would choose him over Jungwoo because you suspect he’s secretly a furry. Jaehyun is certainly better than your deskmate Dongmin who, despite an angelic smile, is: a) too distant to make actual conversation with, and b) in a relationship despite being your soulmate. Sweet-tempered Dongmin doesn’t even know it’s you. You’d love to be the bearer of bad news but this one—you’re not exactly ready for it yourself.

So that’s the explanation for why you hunted down Jaehyun and in a desperate attempt to not seem pathetic, coerced him into a role that has carefully picked benefits for either of you. You just have to bite the bullet sometimes.

“And I get what out of this?”

“Me? Temporarily, that is.”

Jaehyun laughs in amusement and you drop your smile, almost offended. If you were a gift, you’d certainly be an attractive, spicy, hot one—he doesn’t have to look at you so incredulously. In a neat business suit, Jaehyun is as kempt as ever though his tie could do with some more work. As an HR assistant, his appearance pleases you. However as a person, the perfection annoys the hell out of you. He could show himself to be more human. It would make your job (both the actual and the metaphorical) easier.

“I’m leaving,” he announces with a nonchalant exhale. “You keep messing around during work hours like this and people are going to think you’re jobless.”

“Wait!”

You jog up to him and block his path, crossing your arms as you huff at his indignance.

“I said no,” he repeats, and when he tries to evade you, you push him back with your palm flat against his chest. Jaehyun doesn’t show any more discomfort than usual, biting the inside of his cheek.

“You haven’t found your soulmate, right?” you say, taking a deep breath. If you have to resort to psychological warfare, so be it.

His smile wavers and he straightens, no longer leaning against the printer desk. “No. How does that matter?”

“It matters because you’re going to be my pretend-soulmate. Now, don’t be a pussy.”

He opens his mouth and closes it, furrowing his eyebrows. “You can’t always trick me into doing what you want.”

“I’ll ask Doyoung if you say no.”

“See—enough with the tricks, they don’t work anymore. I’ve known you for two years.”

“I really will ask him.”

“Not convincing enough. You don’t even talk to Doyoung outside work.”

You groan into your hand, taking a few moments to come up with another plan. How is your obvious charisma not enough? You certainly can’t tell him how rejected you feel with the whole Dongmin situation even if his rejection hasn’t officially come yet. It’s too embarrassing for a grown adult to go through. You don’t mind being lonely for the rest of your life if you’re successful. There’s a price tag on each decision you make anyway.

“I’ll treat you to lunch every day. I’ll pay.”

You cross your arms, tapping your foot in anticipation. They say the way to a man’s heart is through the stomach. Besides, Jaehyun hates spending his lunch money on himself. This ought to do something.

Jaehyun places his hand in front of his mouth in mock surprise. “Oh no, out of your beloved paycheck? That’s kind of scary, honestly.”

“Jaehyun. Stop messing around. I’m being serious.”

He purses his lips, hesitation across his face. You don’t like the way he thinks, with quiet, lost eyes and no clear giveaways on his lips.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

You smile in relief though you try somewhat to not let it show on your face.

“On one condition.”

Your eyes dart across his face, nothing that tells what he might suggest next. You hate when you don’t get to decide on things.

“You have to come visit my family next month and pose as my soulmate—”

“No way.”

“—and when this whole game you’re playing is over, you’re going to say I rejected you.”

You stare at him, weighing the odds.

“Fine,” you say finally, voice pitched in slight annoyance.

Jaehyun shrugs.

“But I tell my parents that I rejected you. Or they’ll come after you with a task force or something.”

You mutter the last part.

He grimaces, holding his breath for a good few seconds and then letting it go.

“Alright. It’s not like mine and your parents know each other—or will ever meet.”

“Fine then,” you say. “We have an agreement.”

“We have an agreement,” he repeats.

Now, back to more pressing matters. The people in front of you aren’t a stupid lot—even if you've seen Doyoung spend $500 on plush toys, seen Sicheng absentmindedly walk into a desk and pretend to not be in pain for the next five minutes and Soojin somehow convinced a senior to get her coffee because she thought he was an intern (in her defence, it worked).

The only way is to act through. You clear your throat.

"We… we discovered it last week. Our signs match."

Technically, you drew an arrow with a permanent marker over Jaehyun's tattoo in an attempt to resemble yours. It's not awful, but perhaps not perfect.

“Discovered? Like just happened to find out?” Doyoung asks.

“Isn’t Jaehyun’s on…” Soojin leans in to whisper hurriedly in your ear. “On his butt? Did you guys sleep together?”

You contort your face in disgust. “The what? What? Who told you that? And no.”

Soojin makes an ‘ah’ sound and leans back. “I should stop listening to office rumours then.”

"You should." You glare at her.

Sicheng is the only one without questions at the tip of his tongue but the look on his face worries you most.

“I’ve never seen your tattoo, now that I think about it,” he muses, turning to Jaehyun. “Although we’re roommates.”

Jaehyun clears his throat, looking around with shifty eyes. "Why is… why is everyone looking so suspicious?"

"It's just… so sudden," Soojin says, looking around at the others.

"Yeah," Sicheng mutters.

"Soulmate fraud is a big deal too, you know that right?" Doyoung informs. "You could get put in jail."

You throw up your hands in exasperation. "Why would we pretend? We don't have any reason to. And, uh, you're sure about the jail thing?"

You look at Doyoung, hoping your question didn’t come off too squeaky.

"You’re right,” he says, sighing. “It’s so unlikely for soulmates to work in the same company, let alone the same building.”

“Oh, yes, I’m so lucky,” you mutter under your breath.

Doyoung sighs. "Look, we're happy for you. It's just that… it's a little sudden."

"Literally what I just said," Soojin says.

"Literally what she just said," Doyoung agrees quickly, not wanting to pick a fight. Sometimes you wonder who the real boss is.

"Look, just because we don't even acknowledge each other or find each other remotely attractive or wouldn't even be each other's office Christmas card candidate—"

Jaehyun nudges your side with his elbow and gives you a look that seems a lot like "You're making it worse".

You clear your throat. "That's what happens to most soulmates! You think you're going to land the perfect one and boom. You get a chump from marketing."

Jaehyun makes a sound of protest. "I didn't want a snob from HR either."

The two of you glare at each other, and you find that clenching his jaw makes Jaehyun slightly (around 0.05%) more attractive, or at the very least more bearable to look at.

Doyoung gasps. "Okay, I get it. You're having adjustment issues. I know a guy for that. He's helped every newly found soulmate couple adjust with each other."

"We don't need that," you interrupt, offering your fakest smile.

"You do," Doyoung responds, his smile equally fake. "I'll drive you this weekend if you're free. He’ll give you one free session. No more, because we all know how capitalism works."

People have got to stop copying your fake smile. You wish you could have it copyrighted because after all, it’s the same smile that tricks interviewees into thinking they got the job. It’s not evil if you say it isn’t. You open your mouth, look at Jaehyun doing the same and when you can't come up with an excuse, give up and nod.

"Don't look so resentful," Doyoung says, tone slightly complaining. "I'm not doing this as your boss. We were friends in college and I'm just doing you a favour. A friendly favour."

Soojin hums in deep thought. "I feel like this is some sort of nepotism."

"I feel like you should open a dictionary once in a while," Doyoung mutters, only to get a vaguely threatening look from Soojin.

"Anyway," Sicheng diverts, eyes curious when he turns to Doyoung. "Why did you call us here?"

"Ah." Doyoung's eyes widen. "I heard promotion rumours."

Sicheng lets out a loud huff of annoyance. "You summoned us here for company gossip?"

Doyoung crosses his arms. “So, you’re not interested?”

“Who said that?” Sicheng responds quickly, leaning in.

The five of you huddle closer in a circle, looking as conspicuous as a cult.

“You guys know that Jinyoung’s leaving, right?” Doyoung starts.

Soojin gasps audibly only to get a smack on the arm from Doyoung. “Why’s he leaving? He's like employee of the month every month. ”

A few chuckles pass through the group at her discontentment from months of losing out on the title.

“I heard he found his soulmate. Lucky ass gets tax benefits too now,” Sicheng complains. “Why is he leaving?”

“Oh, look who’s interested in gossip now,” Soojin coos.

Sichengs turns red in the face and looks away, clearing his throat. “You’re gonna answer my question, Doyoung?”

“Oh! Right.” Doyoung looks up from a text. “He got rejected by his soulmate.”

Soojin covers her mouth this time when she gasps and you can’t say your jaw doesn’t drop as well.

“Rejected? Like our picture-perfect Jinyoung got rejected?” you repeat, trying to process the information. “Please don’t tell me he decided to be an idiot and sign a mutual rejection.”

“No, he didn’t lose his senses,” Doyoung responds with a duh undertone. “He’s getting the compensation money.”

You sigh. “Man, I feel bad for him.”

Jaehyun hums in agreement. There’s a hush over the group and you feel fear rise in your chest. You don’t want to be rejected. You’ve seen how happy Dongmin looks with his girlfriend—he’d reject you in a heartbeat. Of course, you could just receive the compensation money from the one-sided rejection and get it over with but you refuse to. It hurts to not be wanted. It hurts to not be wanted by someone who’s supposed to want you. To be specific, it hurts your pride. Every time you see the damn arrowed heart on Dongmin’s wrist, which he tries so hard to cover with his watch, you feel like throwing up. You’re glad yours isn’t as easy to spot—resting right above your hip bone.

“Anyway, someone’s getting promoted to that HR specialist position.”

You gasp. “Is it me? It’s me, right?”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes and you elbow him. “What’s with you?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he says, shrugging. “Isn’t it stupid to get your hopes up over a rumour?”

Doyoung breathes out. “Wow, (name) really sucked the life out of you, Jaehyun.”

You glare at him when Soojin breaks into a fit of laughter. “You- you know what that- you know what that sounds like, right?”

Your face contorts into disgust and you shake your head. “Let’s be more professional, alright, Soojin?”

She clears her throat and straightens her clothes, like a teenager being reprimanded. “I’m your senior. It’s embarrassing when you say that to me.”

Jaehyun speaks up and turns to you. “I think lunch break is almost over.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So?”

“You’re forgetting something.” He smiles, dimples showing, but his eyes come off menacing.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You forgot about that stupid lunch promise.

“Hey. Professional,” Soojin warns.

You groan and link your arm through Jaehyun’s, making him bite back a smile. What is it with men and getting weirdly happy about lunch?

“We’re gonna go get lunch,” you announce.

“Ooh, (name)’s ditching quality time with coworkers for dates now,” Soojin coos.

You roll your eyes and exit the office, stopping to wait in front of the elevator.

“I think that went well,” Jaehyun says, shrugging lightly.

“Shh. What if they hear us?”

“Do you think they’re X-men? We’re a long corridor and closed doors away.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Still…”

Jaehyun’s smug smile makes you want to smack it right off and this isn’t the first time you’ve felt this way with him. You swear he’s not as bad as some of the guys you’ve met but Jaehyun is simply annoying. An A grade nuisance. You can trust him though. If Soojin says he’s a reliable guy, you’ll believe her—she doesn’t bluff when it comes to seeing right through men, though she does have a tendency to believe stupid rumours.

“Your acting was shit though,” you snipe.

Jaehyun lets out a low sardonic laugh. “At least I was subtle when I was messing up.”

You cross your arms and huff. “You know what? You can take the next elevator ride.”

“Huh?”

You step into the elevator just as the doors open and quickly jam your finger to the close doors button. The look of betrayal on Jaehyun’s face is subtle but it’s enough to satisfy you. As the saying goes, when one door closes, another one opens—it’s very applicable to elevators. He can take the other one.

However, almost immediately after, the elevator doors open and you groan, opening your mouth to send a sarcastic congratulations to Jaehyun for pressing the button on time.

Your words hitch on your tongue. Dongmin greets the two of you with a smile, standing beside Jaehyun, who has his eyes averted from you.

“Hey,” Dongmin greets. “Congratulations. I heard the news.”

“Thanks,” you croak, clearing your throat with a bit of heat on your cheeks. Jaehyun looks like he might burst into a fit of laughter any moment and you shoot him a subtle glare.

“Where are you headed to?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m going to grab a sandwich from the cafeteria.”

“We’re also headed to the cafeteria,” Jaehyun declares, with a smile that’s almost devilish.

“No, we’re not,” you say quickly, making Dongmin raise an eyebrow. You hold back a groan. If only Dongmin weren’t raised to be the politest man you know and a little bit more of an asshole.

You hum and turn to Jaehyun. “I told you about that new cafe. Remember, honey?”

Dongmin makes an ‘o’ with his mouth. “Nicknames, already? Ah, I’m so jealous. It must be great to get along with your soulmate.”

Oh, the sweet summer child that Dongmin is.

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. “Oh, won’t it take too long, darling? We have—”

He makes a show of checking his Rolex, a gift he received from his superior that he spares no chance to flex.

“—Around ten minutes left.”

You hold back a groan and plaster on your smile. “Come on. Now is the best time.”

“That sounds like a load of—”

You elbow Jaehyun hard in the gut and a restrained sound dies in his throat, eyes widening in the sweet look of discomfort taking over his features. You smile triumphantly and turn to Dongmin with an immediate change of expression.

“I’ll see you in office later,” you say, bowing slightly.

Dongmin nods and gets off on the fifth floor. You watch in quiet relief as the elevator door closes and turn to your dear companion, irked.

“Did you have to do that?” Jaehyun asks, voice raspy with pain.

“You deserved it. Don’t you dare make this a bigger mess than it already is.”

“You came up with it.” Jaehyun straightens, finally. Apart from the few loose strands of his neatly parted hair, he doesn’t seem all that disgruntled.

“And we’re going to set some ground rules,” you declare, closing your arms.

Jaehyun straightens to his full height, the space between the two of you diminishing.

"Okay," he agrees. "Then we both get a say in it. It's a contract, after all."

"Fine. First rule, no being weird around Dongmin."

Jaehyun chuckles. "I think you need to be more careful about that than I do."

You pat his cheek. "Focus. Just don't- don't be around him for too long."

Jaehyun purses his lips. "Why are you so uncomfortable around him? I thought you were doing this because you didn't want to reject him."

You glance away, feeling uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter. I just don't want him to know."

Jaehyun hums. "Fine. My turn. No calling me a chump."

Your cheeks puff up as you try to contain your laughter. "It bothered you that much, huh?"

Jaehyun furrows his brows. "No one's ever called me that before. It's always 'oh my god, he's so handsome, who is he?' or 'ooh, I might faint from how hot he is'."

You giggle. "Alright, handsome."

Jaehyun exhales, his puffed cheeks making him look like a resentful five year old instead of a grown man with a professional job. You pause before you get back on track.

“No nicknames,” you blurt. “It’s weird when you call me something endearing. And your flirting feels kind of threatening.”

“What do you mean, baby?”

“See! You’re doing it again.” You cross your arms at the look on his face; anything close to victorious over Jaehyun’s features is unbearable to you.

He raises his arms in exasperation. “How are we supposed to make this work if we act like we don’t care about each other. Guess why Doyoung’s taking us to couple therapy?”

You huff, slightly pissed off. “You’re saying it was my fault?”

“I’m saying we could have avoided that with better acting.”

“You think you’re so—”

The elevator door opens with a ding on the first floor and you turn to find a bunch of interns back from their lunch break. It would be much less of an awkward affair if you and Jaehyun weren’t well into each other’s personal spaces, noses almost touching and with a mutual glare which could be easily mistaken for a look of something more sensual. You jump away from Jaehyun and leave the elevator as fast as you can, feeling far too conscious of yourself. With long strides, you exit the corporate airs of the building to a sunny, fairly populous sidewalk.

Jaehyun catches up to you, bending and trying to catch a glimpse of your face with an incredulous smile over his.

“Don’t say a word, Yoonoh.”

“Ooh, you’re saying my name now.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“I find it plenty funny.”

“That’s because of your trash sense of humour.”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t look so smug.”

Mondays are the days that make you want to scream in agony, not Thursdays—though they are pretty high up on the worst days of the week list. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe pretending to be in love with someone you simply cannot be in love with is an awful idea.

Soulmates don’t need to be in love with each other, you think to yourself. There’s plenty of soulmates who are just in it for the financial benefits; you can just pretend to be one of them. This dilemma is starting to fray your nerves and Jung Yoonoh, with his lax disposition and dimpled cheeks, is making it worse. And to top it off, you now have to take him to your favourite (kind of secret) cafe in the name of the lies that slipped your tongue. It was supposed to be a quiet comfort spot for you.

You blow a puff of air out and dismiss the thought. Comfort spots aren’t real anyway when you’re all grown. There’s bound to be a breach.

However, you will not let the (lacking) romance department of your life get sorted out by someone who doesn’t even know you. Lady luck would be an acquaintance to you at most. If fate is a game of chance after all, you might as well be the one spinning the roulette. You look at Jaehyun, piecing together the perfect plan for this seemingly frivolous play-pretend. The game is in your hands now.

You blink at the figure of Jung Yoonoh under February sunlight on a modestly busy sidewalk. It’s not something to be surprised at—however, the stark contrast in attire makes you stare longer than you intend to. Wearing a black graphic hoodie and pair of worn out jeans, Jaehyun looks about as casual as you can bear. It’s always weird to see coworkers out of formal clothing.

“Are you just going to stare at me till Doyoung comes and picks us up?” he asks.

You roll your eyes.

“You look nice,” he says, and you glance down at your outfit with a flush of heat over your cheeks. It’s just a short A-line skirt, stockings and a sweatshirt. This is as basic as you get. What’s worse is that his comment didn’t sound sarcastic.

“You- You look nice too. I guess.” Once in a while, you will say something extremely stupid and pretend it never happened. The frequency increases around Jaehyun for some damn reason.

“You guess? I’m pretty sure I look more than nice.”

“And how long did you look at yourself in the mirror and practise catchphrases this time?”

Jaehyun’s ears turn the shade of cherries and you press down your smile. You knew that time you caught him talking to himself in front of a car window would play to your advantage.

“What’s that you’re holding?” you ask, eyeing the plastic bag he’s holding.

“Ginseng,” he answers, staring blankly at the cars passing by. “I heard the couples therapist is in his sixties so he might find it useful.”

“Oh, old people stuff,” you muse quietly. “That’s quite thoughtful of you.”

You should’ve brought something, you think for a moment before realizing that couples probably don’t give separate gifts.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

He raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

You shake your head. “Anyway, we might as well kill some time. Twenty questions. Let’s go.”

He laughs. “What are we, in college?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t make us sound like we’re thirty. I bet you’re the kind of guy who has his retirement plan figured out.”

“Wrong,” he emphasizes, face leaning closer.

“Fine. I’ll start the questions, you unsalted block of butter. How many relationships have you been in?”

Jaehyun opens his mouth and closes it, ears turning red. “That’s your first question?”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. I’m guessing it’s single digit and on the lower side.”

He rolls his eyes. “How many relationships have you been in?”

You shut your mouth. There’s a moment of silence, a breeze passing you by, carrying winter away in its arms to make room for spring.

“Never found a relationship worth it,” you mutter, glancing away.

Jaehyun hesitates before opening his mouth. “Me neither.”

“Good thing for us, eh? Love makes people crazy.”

Jaehyun faces you with a clipped smile. Never did you think Jaehyun from marketing would be relating to you on a personal matter.

“Oh, but I’ve had enough hookups and I can bet you’re mediocre at best in bed.”

Jaehyun glares at you. “I am not and I can prove it to you.”

“Is that an invitation into your bed? No, thanks.”

He opens his mouth to retort but is interrupted by the Hyundai Grandeur pulling up to the sidewalk and rolling down the driver window to reveal Doyoung. He looks as overworked as usual, but his eyes are more tired, a bit of makeup covering the dark circles. You’ve heard his soulmate is a makeup artist for an idol group and wonder how they even came to be. Does fate throw darts randomly and pick its choice?

“Get in. Quick,” Doyoung instructs. “I have to drop you off and head home. My family is visiting. I didn’t even get a warning and they think I’m in a gay relationship with Taeyong because we still have our friendship rings from college.”

You want to laugh and agree but Doyoung looks rather pissed off so you hold it in. The two of you do as told, getting in the backseat and shutting the doors in sync. The car smells rather leafy mingling with the scent of fresh clothes and you eye the jar dangling from the rear-view mirror. You open your mouth to ask what scent that is when Doyoung’s voice rings out.

“What’s that?” Doyoung signals to the bag with Jaehyun.

Jaehyun looks down. “Ginseng extract.”

“Oh, the gift pack?” Doyoung asks.

Jaehyun nods and Doyoung chuckles, shaking his head. “If that’s for Mr. Lee, forget it. He hates gifts. Something about inward appreciation and shit.”

Jaehyun groans, massaging his forehead. “What do I do with this then? Is this guy a priest?”

“Give it to Doyoung,” you suggest. “His family’s visiting.”

You hear an audible hum of approval from the driver seat and turn to Jaehyun making a face of reluctance. Maybe he isn’t so magnanimous after all, you think smiling.

“You’re both quite tame today,” Doyoung remarks, just when the silence is starting to swallow the inside of the car. “Makes me wonder if you need Mr. Lee after all.”

“We actually don’t…” You shake your head. “We’re here and it’s free so why not?”

Jaehyun shoots you a questioning look. It’s not like you can cancel when you’re in Doyoung’s car and already on the way. You’ve known your boss long enough to know the wrong answer to his questions. You look outside at Seoul streets and sigh.

Jaehyun looks at you, your focus elsewhere and wishes this would end already. He has no idea what overcame him to accept your ridiculous offer but he must be just as ridiculous. At the very least, he finds you quite lovely to look at—not that he’d ever admit it to you. The foundation to this weird bickering friendship (if he can call it that) would be ruined by that. His ego, however, has been boosted up a few notches from the fact that you called him for help. He looks outside the window, holding back a smile. It’s a sunny day.

The therapist, Mr. Lee’s office building is a fancy one with an even fancier lobby. Baby pink leather couches cushion your bum nicely as you wait for your appointment. The architecture is that of a corporate firm and you feel quite at home with the large glass walls by the revolving door. This therapist guy must be rich as hell. The receptionist wears a formal uniform; her blouse is light pink with a grey pencil skirt and you like the look of it. You wonder if asking her where she bought it is time-appropriate. More couples sit around you and you, unfortunately, have to scoot closer to Jaehyun as a result. You do not want to catch that disease they all have. Why are they even here for therapy if they’re smiling at each other in that sickly enamored way?

Now that you’re here, you’re starting to feel that this arrangement was ill-decisive. You should’ve done a better job of acting. You wonder if you can get a refund for that college course on acting, pouting as the ticking wall clock gets on your nerves. Even the marble floors are pink; the walls are mahogany red and there’s a heart-shaped wall clock, and should you glance around more, you’re going to nauseate yourself. This guy certainly takes his job seriously—or just really likes pink-red themes.

A woman in her early thirties exits the elevator and announces your names, and you click your tongue at the fact that she used Jung for your surname. It sounds distasteful.

You follow her, starting to get nervous. You really hope this Mr. Lee isn’t as good as Doyoung says he is. Your fraud falling apart within three days is too embarrassing a defeat, not to mention bordering on illegal if found out. What the fuck does the government care about broken hearts and beneficial relationships? It’s so nosy. You understand the financial situation in case of happily bonded soulmates but apart from that, there really shouldn’t be this much discrepancy in the name of love.

Love drives people crazy. You’d rather not lose your good sense in the name of something so inane. After all, money makes the world go around, not love.

Restricting a gag at the deep red heart on the door, you push them open with Jaehyun to find an old man sitting on a similar baby pink couch as in the lobby. He gets up to greet the two of you, the wrinkles on his face deepening when he smiles. Despite everything, he has a sort of grace to him, the one that comes with growing old elegantly. An upbeat song plays on a record player attached to the wall, although at a very low volume, and the tune reminds you of Animal Crossing.

“Doyoung told me about the two of you,” Mr. Lee says, gesturing at the two of you to sit down. “How long has it been since you found out?”

“Six days,” you answer at the same time Jaehyun answers, “Four days”.

The two of you look at each other.

“Four-Six days. We didn’t keep track.”

“Ah,” Mr. Lee says. “How do you propose to celebrate your anniversary?”

You hesitate opening your mouth and declaring that you don’t really need to do that crap. Mr. Lee notices your expression and breaks into gentle laughter.

“I’m kidding. Anniversary dates don’t matter,” he laughs. “It’s okay to celebrate your 100-day on the wrong day. Don’t worry.”

You purse your lips. To your dismay, Jaehyun isn’t as bothered by the sickly pink environment and Mr. Lee’s relaxed demeanour.

“I have a hundred percent success rate,” Mr. Lee assures the two of you, looking directly at you.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” you mutter under your breath and get a nudge from Jaehyun, who has his politest smile on.

You can’t believe Jaehyun has a better customer service mode than you do. If you didn’t know him, you’d be fooled into thinking he’s the nice guy character every office has. Unfortunately, that one goes to Dongmin. You hate getting stuck with nice guys (unless they offer financial stability).

“I think Doyoung might have been exaggerating,” Jaehyun explains calmly. “Whatever he told you.”

“He told me the two of you have a bickering problem. And staring at each other when the other isn’t looking.”

You cough. “That is not true. The staring part.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes at you. “I knew you were checking me out,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes. “Keep dreaming, Jaehyun.”

Mr. Lee laughs. “Your bickering seems to be quite affectionate. I don’t know what that boy was worried about.”

You press your lips together into a thin smile, annoyed that anyone would ever describe your interaction with a man as affectionate. It makes you feel like an idiot. You were always better off alone—the universe was wrong to assign Dongmin to you. Maybe you needed to see the apparent love of your life clearly in love with someone else to snap you to reality.

“However, what is a playful lover’s fight in the beginning can turn into real fights.”

“Right,” you mutter. “It’s all fun and games in the beginning.”

“The two of you have almost no animosity—you’ve known each other before you discovered the soulmark, right?”

The two of you nod, having already reconciled yourselves to this session. It’s a one-time thing, you tell yourself. It will be over soon.

“The soulmate information shouldn’t influence the relationship you already had. If anything, it should be drawing you closer. First time awkwardness is common.”

He’s starting to sound a lot like your high school sex ed teacher. You get the idea to pretend to be sick and get out of this early.

“Company policy too,” Jaehyun mutters. “Unofficial company policy makes office romance out to be some sort of sacrilege.”

“You know, I was the CEO of your company so I do know the policies,” Mr. Lee says, smiling in the confident, reserved way senior citizens offering wisdom do.

You choke on the water you were taking a sip of, a coughing fit overcoming you and Jaehyun hesitates before awkwardly patting your back.

“Huh? CEO? I’m sorry?” you manage.

Mr. Lee lets out a loud, hearty laugh. “I stepped down two years ago.”

“That’s when I joined,” you and Jaehyun say at the same time.

Mr. Lee smiles at the two of you wordlessly. “I have an idea for the two of you. Why don’t you try turning your ‘I’s into ‘we’s? Do some activities together and when you talk about it, you’ll find yourself much closer.”

You narrow your eyes. “You know, Mr. Lee, I’m a little curious about your relation with the company—”

“My recommendations won’t help you get promotions faster.”

“Dammit.”

Jaehyun chuckles beside you but a glare from you turns it into a suppressed smile. The one thing that wouldn’t be a waste of time opened its door and closed it right back.

“But you know how promotions work,” you press, leaning forward.

An alarm rings, so pleasant in tone that you know it’s a Samsung. Unfortunately, it’s the ugly flip model and you question Mr. Lee’s taste (and wealth).

“Oh, look, time’s up,” Mr. Lee announces, and you think you catch a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Jaehyun springs up before his ears turn red, embarrassed by the gusto with which he himself got up and looks at you expectantly. You get up, sighing.

“Next time, Mr. Lee,” you warn. “I will get those details.”

“I charge by the hour.” He smiles.

“Stop threatening the therapist,” Jaehyun mutters to you, taking your arm and turning to leave.

“Oh, and,” Mr. Lee calls. “It’s always better to be honest than to pretend.”

You blink in surprise when Jaehyun tugs at your arm, bowing in thanks and leaving the room with you.

“Was it just me or did he see through us?” you whisper to Jaehyun.

He shakes his head, whispering back, “There’s no way he could tell. He’s probably referring to something else.”

“Like what?”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer.

“Tell me, are you always so domineering towards strangers even?” he asks. “I just thought you liked to press my buttons because I’m easygoing.”

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not as cool as you think you are, especially since you get so hot and bothered by me.”

“It’s just you,” he whispers earnestly and your pulse rises. “No one else.”

You cough to kill the awkward silence and walk faster to the elevator. Jaehyun follows at a leisurely pace and it’s never occurred to you before but the sound of someone’s footsteps can also be annoying, proof currently standing beside you.

The elevator doors open, and much to your appallment, a young couple happens to be full blown making out inside the elevator, hands where there certainly shouldn’t be in broad daylight. Jaehyun whips his face away, clearing his throat loud enough for the couple to detach themselves from each other and hurriedly exit, fixing their clothes on the way.

“So he wasn’t lying about the success rate,” Jaehyun states quietly, a look of resigned horror on his face.

You can’t even respond for a few moments, following him into the elevator and shaking your head to get rid of the thought that inevitably jams itself inside your head. It might have a point, however.

"Maybe we should kiss too," you think out loud.

Jaehyun stiffens, looking at you with wide, fearful eyes. "No."

"We have to kiss, we're dating!" You exclaim, hands on your hips.

"We're not actually—ah, whatever. It’s not worth bickering with you."

"Why? Afraid you'll fall in love with me?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, and you’re suddenly aware that your bickering keeps drawing you closer to each other, your faces nearer than you’d realized.

"If anything," he starts with a confident smile. "You better not fall in love with me."

"Oh, please. You're taking this way too seriously."

"You're the one that wants to kiss me."

Your cheeks heat up. "You're- I- That's not—argh, fuck you."

Jaehyun looks smug, and you have the unstoppable urge to punch it off his face. You take a deep breath. Violence is not the way, (name).

“If we were a few years younger, you’d be begging for mercy under me,” you seethe.

Jaehyun’s eyes shift over your face in confusion, ears burning bright red with each passing second. Before he can open his mouth, you let out a short yell.

“Not like that, you pervert,” you say, leaning away from him.

“I didn’t even say anything. On an unrelated note, were you a delinquent in school?”

You roll your eyes. “Kind of. I had a temper and a sharp tongue.”

“And now you’re a people pleaser. That’s quite the development.”

You smack his shoulder. “You’re getting on my nerves, punk.”

He makes an ‘oh’ with his mouth before smiling. “You totally did the delinquent accent.”

“I’m guessing you were the shy, little boy who flushed red at conversations about kissing.”

Jaehyun clears his throat in annoyance. “I was not. I was quite popular in high school and college, you know?”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “It’s that face of yours.”

“Sorry, what? I didn’t catch that.”

“Oh, look, we’re on the first floor.” You exit the elevator, leaving a puzzled Jaehyun to follow in stumbling steps.

“I don’t think Doyoung’s picking us up,” you state. “You take the bus? Or do you have a car to flex? I don’t ride in anything below a Tesla, unless it’s Doyoung because he’s technically my boss.”

“You’ll have to do with good old rented Hyundais,” he answers.

You exhale. Maybe he’s getting used to you. The bus stop is opposite the building, the structure squeaky clean and a bunch of people waiting on the seats. It’s a busy place and you wonder if the scammy-therapist-slash-your-former-ceo’s business has anything to do with that. You sit the first chance you get, shoulders pressed against Jaehyun’s for the lack of space and admiring the passing traffic. Seoul really just depends on the lenses you see through. Work days make the screen tinted grey and blue and you hate them often but some days, it’s good to experience those. Weekends are brighter, sunny and usually not with Jaehyun but he doesn’t really put a damper on them either.

You scan his side profile, a little envious when you realize that his confidence isn’t misplaced. You might have trained yourself to be more of a pleaser over the years but he’s the sort of person people come to like naturally. Moreover, his skin is perfect and his hair is always looking styled even in a mess. Fate and Life are partners in crime when it comes to being unfair.

Jaehyun turns to look at you and you snap your head to your lap, turning on your phone and staring at the homescreen for a good few seconds.

“Twenty questions,” Jaehyun announces. “Let’s play again. I’ll go first. Do you check me out when I walk away?”

“What is this, playing my own cards against me?” You scoff. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“So, yes or no?”

“Sometimes,” you mutter. “But it’s not the good kind of checking out. I’m checking out how terrible you look with your mess of a tie.”

Jaehyun laughs, the sound a hearty rumbling sort and you can’t help but smile back at that. It’s kind of cute when he laughs—the sound of it and the way his cheeks are dusted pink.

“My turn,” you say with a cheeky smile as you lean in to whisper. “Have you ever had a wet dream about me?”

Jaehyun chokes on air, coughing out the surprise as he stares at you dumfound. You stick the tip of your tongue out and throw him a wink, thoroughly enjoying this victory against him. It feels great to fluster someone like Jaehyun.

“No,” he says with clear emphasis.

“Even the night you said I was so unbearably hot very loudly to Sicheng?”

Jaehyun leans back sighing, covering his face with his hand. “I was tipsy. And it was my first night out with coworkers. Give me a break.”

You giggle. “Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. There were worse incidents that night. An intern threw up on Doyoung’s shoes—I can’t even imagine the horror the poor girl experienced.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, smiling through his hand.

“Have you ever sent nudes?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

He sighs. “Maybe. Have you?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

He curls his lips. The answer seems to be no but you’re at least seventy percent sure he would be attracted to you in a world where your personality traits weren’t being nosy and annoying.

“Do you think you’re a good kisser?” Jaehyun asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Definitely.”

He scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You cross your arms.

He shrugs, leaning in slightly as though flirting (if he had the audacity). “We could test that.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “What happened to no kissing in the contract?”

“It’s not officially there.”

You roll your eyes, glancing away. “You know, I’m starting to believe you were some sort of desperate fuckboy in college.”

“I- I was the hottest dude on campus and if we went to the same college, you would be pining after me. I literally had the Campus Prince title and girls would follow me to see me in class.”

He crosses his arms, a frown tugging down his lips.

“Ooh, Jung Yoonoh’s getting fired up,” you say in a monotonous voice. “Wonder how many girls you pulled with your chewed up fuckboy dialogue.”

Jaehyun scoffs but he clearly finds your accusations amusing, as hinted by his unbothered smile. He asks a question again.

“What’s more important to you—truth or happiness?”

The question catches you off-guard. Jaehyun’s eyes are delicately curious, nothing too strong and even so, you find yourself holding your breath under his gaze.

“Huh?”

“Twenty questions. We were playing?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

“Right.” You clear your throat, rubbing the back of your hand. “I… I’d choose happiness, I think. I’m… I’m not sure.”

“Really?” He doesn’t look too hellbent on taking apart your answer so you breathe out. He’s starting to pry into you finally. “I think the truth will make you happier.”

“That’s not- that’s not always true.” You look away, hoping the quietness of your voice ends the conversation there. You don’t know how to talk about it—you never really have. You’ve ugly cried over the lack of your love life to a stranger after five shots of whiskey but you don’t think you can talk about things like this sober. You don’t even know why you answered. Jaehyun makes you feel oddly comfortable.

Jaehyun shrugs, getting up when the next bus halts in front.

“What did you major in?” you ask, following him.

“Business,” he answers before thinking. “Kind of hated it. But I started out with IT and that was somehow worse.”

You gasp, taking a seat beside him on the bus. “I started with IT too! It was a nightmare. You took that Database Management course?”

Jaehyun smiles. “It was like the course equivalent of reading the back of a Wi-Fi Router.”

You laugh. Maybe he isn’t so different after all.

“You know, you do look like a business major,” you hum, furrowing your brows as you pretend to scrutinise him.

“So, you’re indirectly saying I either look like a rich kid or a jackass.” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

“They’re both the same thing.”

The laughter from the two of you makes an old woman behind you grunt in displeasure and the two of you apologize. It’s nice to talk like college kids again. The Seoul sunlight shines on Jaehyun’s face and you bite back a smile when his dimples appear. They aren’t all that bad. If you get along like this, there’s no reason to worry about fate and the universe and other superfluous things offered to you on a boring old ceramic plate. It’s a smooth ride.

Your eyes drift to Dongmin’s workspace instinctively and you shake your head. This is exactly why you were avoiding him and even started the entire fake relationship with Jaehyun. You’d choose fake dating a (good-looking) chump from management over embarrassment and possible heartbreak any day.

You groan internally before glancing again and find the desk empty. Surprised, you blink and turn only to scream at Dongmin’s figure behind you.

“Shh!” he says urgently. “Don’t move. And don’t panic when I say this but there’s a bug on your shoulder.”

“What the fuck? Get it off, please,” you say, voice choking up.

Dongmin rolls up a stack of papers and you let out a low screech. “Don’t kill it on my shoulder!”

“Sorry,” he says and your eyes soften as he gently pushes the paper against your shoulder and takes it away. You breathe a sigh of relief and he signs you a thumbs up as he wiggles the paper in the air outside the window.

“You saved me,” you say, smiling.

He returns it, his most beloved eye smile making you wonder if you made the right choice. Wouldn’t it be fun to just crash everything and watch it burn? You know you want to. Benevolence and grace were never your style. However, it’s his smile again that stops you. Maybe you don’t really want to be the bad guy after all. You’re sparing him from confusion and dread.

You’re sparing yourself from rejection and inevitable loneliness (yay).

It’s been a week, discussing details with Jaehyun before the both of you collectively decided to just wing it and hope you’re not caught. After all, there’s no real way to prove you’re not soulmates if you’re careful enough (the same way you can’t prove someone’s cheating if they’re careful enough but that’s quite a depressing analogy). Perhaps if you renounce the soulmate benefits (and Dongmin didn’t smile as often at you), it would be less morally taxing. You, however, are greedy. When you want something, you’ll do anything to get it.

You stare at the computer screen and sigh, cross checking the employee records for incorrect data and your eyelids start to droop. Of all the days, you just had to be assigned the most boring task on a Friday. You also should’ve gotten sleep instead of getting mad at Jaehyun’s dry responses to your plan of action. It was perfectly viable; unnecessary, but perfect nonetheless.

Soojin rolls her chair backwards into yours. “We’re going drinking tonight. Wanna come? You can bring your boy-toy too.”

You roll your eyes. “As much as I’d love to call him that, he’s still the chump from marketing for me.”

“Or,” Soojin emphasizes. “Your actual soulmate. How lucky is it that you work in the same building, in the same company?”

“I’m not sure if you’re being ironic.” You scroll through the database with trained eyes.

“I’m not. A lot of soulmates don’t even get to see each other because of their line of work. It’s so tragic.”

You’d be glad if you didn’t get to see Dongmin ever too. But you’ll keep that to yourself. You hum in response and hear a sigh from behind you.

“Let’s have fun,” she whines. “Is Jaehyun that much of a downer? He’s one of the hottest dudes in the building. I thought you’d be cheery.”

You pause and think to yourself. She does have a point. You’re definitely supposed to look happier. Your soulmate has the looks of a model and fifteen year old you would fawn over him no doubt.

“It’s the work,” you answer. “I’m working overtime to compensate for my rent.”

You work overtime anyway because you hate heading home to an empty apartment.

“Ah, you signed a new lease, right? Near Songpa?” Soojin looks at you with pity and pats your shoulder. “You know what? I’ll treat you to drinks tonight. You deserve a day off, missy.”

You smile. “Thanks, Soojin.”

“And,” she adds in a singsong voice. “The love of your life is here.”

You furrow your eyebrows before tilting your head and almost sighing in exasperation at the figure of Jung Yoonoh outside the glass door. He may not show it, but you know distress when you see it. You’ve seen enough squirming undergraduates at company interviews.

You quickly get up from your seat, praying that he didn’t mess something up. However, you find it cute when he looks like this, the urge to fluster him even more presenting itself to be rather tempting.

“I think you have a sick obsession with me, Jaehyun.” You cross your arms after closing the door behind you.

He exhales, closing his eyes for a moment before taking your arm and pulling you away from the door.

“Woah, this isn’t high school. You can’t just pull me into a corner to make out.”

Jaehyun’s ears flare hot red and he clears his throat. “You’re in high spirits today.”

You weren’t, actually. Somehow, teasing Jaehyun gives you the same rush as caffeine. You just love when the nonchalance on his face turns into discomposure.

“I came to give Doyoung these files. Or you, since you’re practically his assistant.”

You ignore his comment. “There’s clearly something else.”

“The team sports event is coming up,” Jaehyun starts, hesitating. “I’m not managing it this year. I have to participate.”

“So?”

“So Dongmin has a higher chance of finding us out. What if he sees my mark in the changing room and it all goes to shit?”

“Great! He’ll think you’re his soulmate and I’ll be spared from this nonsense.”

“I’m being serious. It’s already difficult living with Sicheng and having to change with my doors locked. It’s kind of suspicious.”

“Do you guys sleep naked with each other or what?”

“No, but I do sleep with my shirt off.”

“Ugh. Why would you give me that image?” you complain. The image isn’t bad per se but it’s not what you need right now.

“You clearly liked it,” he mutters.

You furrow your eyebrows. “You’re not doing this just to give me a load of unnecessary anxiety, are you? Do you know how swamped with work I am?”

“No, of course not,” he answers, no indication of which question he answered. “Also, is there a reason Soojin’s glaring at me?”

You wave your hand in dismissal. “It’s just the haven’t-warmed-up-to-coworker’s-new-boyfriend glare. Don’t worry about it.”

He doesn’t seem too relieved but you have more anxious thoughts invading the privacy of your Friday evening. You have to keep up your composure. It could happen one way or another, perhaps in a situation better than a team sports activity, but you have to figure it out. You reject your soulmate anyway—the same way he would.

Glaring at Jaehyun one last time, you get back to your desk. Jaehyun looks at your receding figure and finds himself checking you out, the largest blow he’s taken to his dignity. He shakes his head, breathing in and out. This is so not like him. He’s supposed to be the suave, handsome guy who people can’t seem to get to and yet—yet, you do it so easily. It’s unfair. He swallows his heart and tells himself he’s too old to feel this way. He’ll just drown himself in work and pretend love is a commodity like everyone else with a corporate job is supposed to.

“You know,” Soojin starts when you get back. “Jaehyun kind of looks high if you look at him long enough. Weed is illegal though but who knows? Maybe he’s a bad boy deep down after all.”

“Which rumour have you been paying attention to now?” You sigh deeply.

Soojin laughs. “It’s funny to hear everyone’s opinions. Even if most of them turn into scandalous tall tales.”

“Anyway,” she continues. “I’m clocking out. I’ll get Jaehyun to take you to the sake bar.”

You look at her, puzzled.

“You’re a matching set now,” she follows up and you groan.

“Don’t give me that cr—”

“Toodle-oo! Let’s have some fun before we’re grey and old, eh?”

You sigh and nod. Maybe you should look into a caffeine fix, even if it costs you a mental power outage at the end of the rush. It’s not like you to be so down on a Friday but alas, Fate is as miserable a woman as you are. The sake bar is starting to sound good.

Or, you could always watch a few ASMR cooking videos instead of staring blankly at the employee records. Either way, this Friday better improve by tonight.

“This is going great,” Soojin says, louder than she probably intended after her fourth shot.

“Of course it is,” you mutter.

You haven’t yet had a chance to drink more because of two reasons: one) Soojin is hogging the alcohol and two) it would be embarrassing to get drunk in front of Jaehyun. Adding to your misery, Soojin has been gushing over her soulmate and the way she always makes breakfast for Soojin, listing off every single recipe she’s made. You would love to listen but you’re a tiny bit past your limit.

“Wooh, Jaehyun, you look hot,” Soojin whistles, in more of an older sister manner. “I can almost see your tattoo. Why don’t the two of you show us at the same time and we can take a commemorative picture?”

You cough loudly. “Mine’s on my waist, Soojin. I’m not ready to expose skin.”

“Right. Sorry.” She turns back at lightning speed to bother Dongmin with her stories, who smiles at her politely. It seems so genuine that you’re slightly enamored with it for a moment. There’s Jungwoo from marketing beside him, some more HR employees and thankfully, no interns. Doyoung is the only one partly miserable in the lot, talking into the phone for half an hour now.

“Shit.” Jaehyun nudges you and whispers, “I forgot about the tattoo. This T-shirt makes it very visible.”

You look at him, alarmed. You fix his jacket, startling him, and pull the zipper all the way to his neck, making sure to backhand him on the chin.

“There.”

“It’s hot in here.”

“What do you want me to do about it? God, you’re like a child.”

“I’m like a—okay. Just cover my tattoo with foundation or something.”

“You think I carry around a whole bottle of foundation?”

Jaehyun blinks, deeming it safer to keep his mouth shut.

“Okay. Fine. I have an idea. Come to the washroom with me.”

“Oh my, this isn’t your making out in the corner type of thing, right?”

You glare at him and he shuts up, following you quietly to the surprisingly clean restroom. The fact that it isn’t gendered makes you very glad. You make Jaehyun sit on the low enough basin counter and push your knee against it to balance yourself as you take out a permanent marker from your bag.

“I hope Doyoung doesn’t fire me for sneaking away,” you mutter angrily. “He didn’t even make me receive his calls all day.”

Jaehyun scoffs lightly. “Please, Doyoung adores you and your work ethic. He talks about it more than what I need to overhear. That and Taeyong’s detailed aquarium maintenance rules.”

“He does?”

Jaehyun clears his throat and you hold back bombing him with more questions till you’re done with painting an arrow into his tattoo.

“Isn’t it weird?” He looks at you with round, curious eyes. “Yours is a heart. Mine’s a pierced heart.”

“Hm. Funny coincidence.”

“Do you have to sit on my lap for this?”

“I’m not sitting on your lap,” you hiss. You are kind of close. You train your eyes on his collarbone as you pull his neckline down.

It would be so embarrassing to be caught like this. You’d rather be caught making out with someone in the broom closet. You hold back a pained sigh. Jaehyun has some nerve speaking to you when you’re already annoyed with him. Couldn’t he just have worn his business attire? Why does he get to go home early? Taeyong is far too lenient a boss. You start swearing internally, getting nervous when you think about the consequences of your actions.

“Has anyone ever filed a complaint against you?” Jaehyun asks, and you nudge his chin upwards to draw the line on his tattoo.

“For what? Being perfect and successful?”

“For that attitude. The ‘take what I want’ attitude.”

You roll your eyes. “No. You’re saying it like I’m awful to the core for trying to take what I want. I haven’t got such a bad soul, you know, as souls go. You wouldn't write articles about how good a soul it is but… it’s well enough.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow and you avert your gaze from his eyes. This sort of proximity shouldn’t be bothering you, you shouldn’t be rambling.

The door opens right then and in a fit of panic, you do the unthinkable. You press your lips to Jaehyun’s and pray that whoever walked in has no idea who you are and more importantly, can’t see the permanent marker in your hand.

“I’m so sorry!”

You know that voice. You half regret it when you hear it. Dongmin exits the bathroom as quickly as he entered and you pull away to look at the empty space. Beside you, Jaehyun stays so still that you forget he’s there for a moment. You breathe out in relief though part of you still feels a heavy ounce of regret.

You turn back to Jaehyun and find his doe eyes soft and lost in thought.

“I get it now,” Jaehyun whispers. “It must hurt. That he doesn’t care about the system.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That he’s so reckless about discarding you.”

You separate yourself from him further, standing up and brushing your clothes. “You’re overstepping.”

“Sorry,” he responds quietly.

There’s a pause.

“Did you just kiss me right now?”

“Shut up. I didn’t want him to see us and especially this.” You wave the marker in front of his face.

“You just kissed me in a fit of panic. That’s the first time I’ve seen someone respond to panic this way.” Jaehyun looks a little too smug.

“What are you implying?”

“You wanted to kiss me.”

You scoff. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

You want to knock the smile right off his face but you stick to flicking his forehead, his yell of surprise satisfying. This Friday night was supposed to get better. In fact, you are going to make it better if life won’t. The soju won’t drink itself and you deem that Soojin has had enough.

Ignoring Dongmin’s confused look, you order far too many soju shots to be considered healthy. As you promised yourself, you are going to make this Friday better.

You just had to go and get drunk. Jaehyun stares at you, blinking slowly and wondering just how much you can embarrass yourself before it becomes a burden for him. He has to get you home; you’re practically a matching set now. But are the halves of a pair supposed to take care of the other when they get drunk?

“You know what, guys?” You announce, standing up abruptly and immediately getting pulled back to your seat by Jaehyun. It doesn’t stop your mouth however.

“I hate the stupid system,” you continue. “To tell the truth—”

He smacks his hand over your mouth. Jaehyun has had enough of the silent mini heart attacks you give him. The rest look at him with puzzled looks and he can’t even bring himself to give them a polite smile before dragging you out of the bar. The night breeze is cold enough—maybe it’ll sober you up.

"You're so annoying, Jaehyun," you mutter, massaging your forehead. "Did you know that?"

Or maybe it won’t.

"Never heard that before."

"How do you always keep to yourself and still be the center of attention?" You cling to his arm for balance.

"Have you considered that maybe a polite man isn't as scheming as you think he is?"

You curl your lips. "Stop using big sentences. I hate that I barely know you, and I know everyone."

Jaehyun purses his lips. "You just enjoy the power that comes with figuring people out. Don't you?"

"Whatever you say. I want life to be a nice and smooth ride but then again, I can't even face my soulmate." You let out an airy laugh. "I didn't really need one though."

Jaehyun laughs in disbelief. "You look like you're dying of loneliness."

"Ooh, that's a big claim, Yoonoh."

"You say I keep to myself but what about you? You like hiding, don't you?"

You laugh. "Is this the part where I say we're nothing alike?"

He purses his lips, shaking his head in dismissal. He's just tired of chit-chat with someone who smells like she robbed a liquor store in Itaewon.

“You must think I’m some sort of selfish, vapid, work-obsessed overachiever,” you continue, tilting your head with a blank look in your eyes.

“Well, not exac—”

“But guess what? Your opinions are invalid, Jung Yoonoh. You’re just some chump from marketing. A very good-looking chump but still.”

Jaehyun swears under his breath as you fling your arms open in the same manner a speech-giving patriot fighting for freedom would. Unfortunately, the freedom struggle is private in this day and age, and you just smacked him in the nose instead.

You sigh deeply and he looks at you again, warily now as he holds his nose.

“You’re not exactly wrong either. I’m so empty. Like a bottle of soju with no soju. Could you bring me some?”

Jaehyun massages his temples and solidifies his resolve. He’s had enough stares from people on the sidewalk. With delicate concern, he holds you up with one arm around your waist, balancing your weight evenly so you can stand. Promptly, you bury your face into his neck and an embarrassing, high-pitched squeak evades the filter of his mouth. You’re just so adept at making his days (and nights) worse.

Jaehyun tries his best to carry you to the parking lot without any signs of struggle but good lord, are you uncooperative. Once he’s down lugging you to the passenger seat, he breathes out in relief at long last and makes sure you don’t fold in over yourself dozing off the seat. Getting you to sit up, he finds himself smiling the slightest bit at your smudged lipstick. Even like this, you’re quite pretty.

Realizing what thought came over him, he shakes his head vigorously as if he’s committing a horrible crime. He just has to get you home—Soojin had texted him the address prior to the outing just in case—and then he can go back to pretending whatever he even is supposed to.

The sports event is really just HR and Management trying to one-up the other in a more quantitative way. You’re not really fond of the sweat and heavy breathing that comes with physical exertion if it’s for the sake of competition. Competition is such a childish, masculine way of handling things, especially emotions.

HR is leading in wins, however and that means you have something to rub in Jaehyun’s face. You hate participating but you’re not allowed to opt out without a medical certificate. At least one competition, and you had to choose the three-legged race. All these potential partners, and Dongmin had to choose you.

“I’ll win,” you tell Jaehyun, stopping by him once you exit the changing room. The indoor stadium is usually a recreational facility for senior employees but on sports day, it’s closer to a gladiator arena. The seats are green and occupied by grinning employees, most of them glad for a day off but also upset they don’t get to attend their personal affairs in it.

Jaehyun stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Shouldn’t it be a ‘we’? You need a partner. Oh, are you sad you can’t pick me?”

“Not at all.” You cross your arms, annoyed at his mock pity.

Right then, Dongmin jogs up to you in a blue tracksuit. His hair sticks to his forehead because unlike you, he takes sports very seriously. Jaehyun, on the other hand, just seems to enjoy the competition. As a guilty pleasure, you’d like to see the two of them compete one day. That would be a competition worth betting on.

“I’ll have to borrow your soulmate.” Dongmin laughs. “The race is starting.”

Life strikes again with its poorly timed irony.

“Don’t mind me,” Jaehyun says politely.

The race is easier than you thought it would be considering most of the other employees struggle with teamwork. You’re the HR team for a reason. But then again, you feel a certain hollowness pervade you while you’re pressed to Dongmin’s side. Wouldn’t it be nice?

All you can think is that Dongmin and you are perfectly in sync. The realization comes off as sad despite your victory and the wide grins on both of your faces.

Jaehyun purses his lips and gives the two of you a nonchalant look. He’s avoided getting caught in the changing room quite well. For some reason, he’s glad that you’re winning but also dissatisfied about it. He would certainly feel different if he were participating in that race, wouldn’t he? He would win. Losing a competition is a huge blow to his ego. Lately, he seems to be losing a lot of races. The two of you have been growing closer and he doesn’t mind late night discussions about flawed systems and childhood memories; but the fact that you’re growing on him is something for him to be on edge about. He’s never felt so close to someone, and still so far.

“Oh, they have good chemistry, don’t they?” Doyoung comments beside Jaehyun, before taking a sip from his bottle.

“What chemistry?” Jaehyun snaps and Doyoung almost chokes on the water.

“Chill out, man.” Doyoung eyes Jaehyun’s figure in concern. “She’s like officially yours.”

Jaehyun refuses in a series of sputtering responses. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not jealous. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I didn’t paint you as that kind of man either,” Doyoung mutters before speaking up. “But love, Jaehyun. Love’s a weird thing.”

Jaehyunn ignores his comment and walks down to the grounds, jogging up to you. He immediately forgets to say anything at all. Smooth move, Yoonoh.

You just stick out your tongue at him subtly.

“I told you we’d win,” you say.

Jaehyun crosses his arms. “Congratulations. I thought you, quote, hate this stupid competition for dunces.”

You clear your throat and Dongmin laughs beside you. Before he can offer his bottle, Jaehyun offers his own in a rush. You raise an eyebrow but don’t question it.

“You guys really are a perfect pair.” Dongmin laughs. “Sometimes I wish Mijoo was my soulmate.”

You give him a pitiful smile. There go your happy feelings of victory.

“But I’m happy this way.” Dongmin nudges your shoulder with his. “Don’t give me that look.”

That is not the look he thinks you were giving. You smile.

“What about this? We can go on a double date! Those are fun, right?” Dongmin muses, crossing his arms.

“No,” you and Jaehyun refuse in a panic, and Dongmin blinks in confusion at the overwhelming response.

“I'm more of a homebody,” you explain.

“Yeah, me too,” Jaehyun agrees.

It makes Dongmin laugh aloud. “Oh, fate didn’t go wrong with the two of you.”

Your smile wavers. Did it go so wrong with you and Dongmin? Jaehyun’s hand brushes yours and you look at him. A perfect side profile and flushed hot cheeks with dimples to die for. You wouldn’t mind being in love with him. You don’t mind love much at all.

Shaking off the thought, you watch as Dongmin leaves the two of you to run to the changing rooms. Eyeing Jaehyun’s red team sweatshirt with “Management” in big typography over the chest, you look back up to his face.

“Why did you jog over here so desperately?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Jealous?”

“Yes. I am irreparably in love with you.”

He leans in quickly and you flinch, making his dimples show up.

“Asshole,” you curse. “I’ll file you for harassment. Don’t do that again.”

“Isn’t it harassment when you feel me up while you draw—” Jaehyun leans in to whisper. “—the soulmark?”

“I would never have my hands near your greasy existence if I could,” you huff, scandalized.

But the thing is, Jaehyun is getting better at this game of flustering each other and you don’t like it one bit.

“Hey, you know Dongmin’s girlfriend?” he asks suddenly.

You nod. “Kind of. I’ve seen her pictures on Instagram.”

Jaehyun pauses before humming in realization.

You cough. “Not that I was stalking them or something. Obviously.”

Jaehyun gives you a knowing smile but doesn’t question anything, much to your aggravation. It would’ve been better if you had a chance to prove you weren’t stalking them but then again, that is exactly what you were doing.

“Well, we went to the same college. Same major too.”

“Are you serious? Wait, how do you know? Does this mean you stalked their Instagram too?”

“Too?”

“Shut up.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“She’s not exactly the evil homewrecker type,” he says.

“I know that,” you snap. If anything, you feel like the evil homewrecker even if Dongmin’s supposed to be your soulmate.

They’re so reckless. Jaehyun was right—you do blame them in a way. They don’t care who they trample under their nauseating parade of romance. But then again, that parade is better than a personal rejection.

“I’m just saying… don't hold it against them.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice, Jung Yoonoh.”

Jaehyun shrugs, dropping the issue. The preparations for the next race is starting and it has something to do with passing balls from basket to basket—you get bored already when you see Doyoung stretch before shaking hands with Taeyong.

“Wanna get ice-cream? We funded the food truck this year.” Jaehyun looks expectantly at you.

“Sure.”

You contemplate holding his hand for a moment but let that thought bury itself. You don’t have to pretend right now.

Much to your despair (or delight) however, Jaehyun takes your hand absentmindedly as he walks towards the exit. It’s not that you’ve never held hands before, it’s just that Jaehyun’s skin is soft against yours.

“I can’t believe you and Mijoo were in the same course.”

It seems she’s ahead of you in every direction you look to tread on. Of course, you will not be telling Jaehyun that. You don’t exactly feel jealousy—can’t feel jealousy when your life is perfect as it is. And for Jaehyun? You hate to admit it but you’d trade places with Mijoo any day.

“Well, she didn’t really like socializing back then so I didn’t know we were in the same program either.”

You chuckle, glancing down at your intertwined fingers despite your best efforts. It feels nice like this. It feels nice to be wanted by someone—even if it’s a lie.

“Do you think- Do you think they’re brave?” You ask. “They didn’t even hesitate to disregard the system.”

“I think people in love are always brave.”

You hum, looking down at your feet. All the more reason the system fucked up. You were never even supposed to be partnered up. You’re not brave—the face you put on is. The idea of love seems to get further and further away from you.

Just then, Jaehyun tugs at your hand, walking slightly faster and making you complain as you jog to catch up with his long strides. The food truck is fairly large, on the street outside to the stadium entrance. February is catching up with its heat and you curse at global warming for this hot winter day.

“You can take up to five scoops of different flavours,” he informs you, grinning sheepishly. “I guess the cups aren’t large enough for beyond that.”

“I didn’t know you were this passionate about ice-cream,” you say.

“Sicheng rubbed off on me.”

You laugh. IT must have given Sicheng enough stress to develop a sweet tooth. You love the HR Department when you look at the others in your company.

Jaehyun has a nice smile. You don’t know why you think that but you do and now you can’t focus on anything apart from the pink dust sprinkled over his cheeks and the handsome dimples that accompany. You don’t want to stare but clearly, Jaehyun must have been blessed by some divide being if not for fate. Maybe he’s a mess up like you. As far as you know, his soulmate doesn’t exist. That little red heart is so simple that none of the soulmate designs match it.

A rather repulsing part of you is happy about it. You like the feel of Jaehyun’s hands. You like the way he looks at you. You wouldn’t mind it if he were yours.

Jaehyun’s house is as cosy as his mother makes you feel. It’s been a while since you’ve been home and if you were perhaps less emotionally constipated, you would have tears welling up in your eyes. There’s quite a few relatives too but then again, every Asian family jumps at the chance to celebrate something as mediocre as engagements and marriage and soulmate findings. Apparently, hormones are perfectly fine to them once you’re not teenagers anymore.

This isn’t so bad. What was so scary about meeting parents again? Jaehyun’s dad did challenge you with a questionnaire but lucky for you, you know exactly how interviews work. You’ve got enough information on Jaehyun from the man himself for this visit. The briefing he gave you was boring though; you already know what you need to know about Jaehyun.

You sit at the table, while most of the other guests work in the kitchen. Jaehyun’s mother asks you questions about your life, friendly and welcoming in every way possible. Mothers are truly god-sent. You wonder how she produced someone as far from divine as Jaehyun. (Except in looks, perhaps.)

You say that out loud and get a sharp quip from Jaehyun, his mother’s eyes lighting up at your childish interaction.

“Oh my, fate is never wrong!” She remarks with a wide smile. “I’ve never seen Jaehyun open up so much with anyone before. He was such a shy boy in school, you know? All the girls would send letters and confessions and he would just turn red in the face.”

“Mom.” He smiles all too sweet at her but you can see the panic in his eyes.

She rolls her eyes before turning to you. “Darling, you have no idea how proud I feel to see him this at ease. I was honestly getting tired of all the ‘your son is so polite and well-mannered’ comments. Some bickering ought to do him good.”

“Mom,” he repeats, straightening. “I think auntie needs some help setting up the table.”

“Don’t shoo me away yet. I have to tell (name) about the time you were elected class representative in middle school. And all those sports and acting awards.”

“You don’t have to advertise me, Mom,” he says, dropping his face into his hands to rub at his eyes, already growing tired. “I’m already- I’m already hers.”

His mother coos and apart from the expected deep red flush on Jaehyun’s skin, you find yourself feeling hot in the face too. Jaehyun’s aunt calls for his mother right then and you watch as she makes her way to the kitchen entrance, the two women glancing at you and giggling to each other over some shared words.

Jaehyun takes the opportunity to grab your hand and walk away to a more obscure part of the house upstairs. With significantly less relatives, it should be a good hiding spot unless discovered by his giggling cousins that he refuses to introduce you to.

“Aw, what a shy baby,” you coo, smiling at the thought of a younger, easily-flustered Jaehyun.

His ears are bright red and you think that he’s still easily flustered. He just doesn’t show it much anymore—there’s only one dead giveaway.

“Forget everything my mom said,” he instructs. “It’s not important information.”

“Oh, no, darling. Your mother is a gold mine of vital information. You know what? I’m going to go chat her up right now. I’m sure you were quite the teenage dream I should know about.”

Jaehyun grips your wrist before you can escape, pulling your closer.

“Don’t.”

You don’t know if it’s the proximity or the fact that there are most definitely a few family members that could walk in right now—but you find yourself embarrassed as you look at his face. It’s very pleasant, handsome even, and the strands of his hair look irresistibly soft from this distance. You reach your hand out and brush the hair out of his eyes, almost instinctively.

“You have nice eyes, Jaehyun,” you say out loud, not sure why. He doesn’t fluster this time but it makes you all the more aware of your nearness.

Your eyes glance at the bottom of the staircase to see a little girl, around nine, hiding from behind the wall that separates the dining room and the kitchen. You return your gaze to Jaehyun with a smirk.

"We should kiss right now. Your little cousin's watching."

Jaehyun looks mildly disgusted. "Why would I want to kiss you in front of my cousin?"

You roll your eyes. “You don't get it, do you? The fastest way to convince a family is through rumours.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "So?"

"Oh my god, you're an idiot. Nosy cousins are the most effective way to spread rumours."

"Ah." Jaehyun looks enlightened enough for you to continue.

"Okay, but first you need to have these mints." You take out the emergency mints from your purse.

"What? I don't need mints. I have nice smelling breath.”

"Everyone needs mints, Jaehyun. Especially men."

Jaehyun sighs heavily. You take the opportunity to grab his wrist and pull him into a corner.

"Have this mint or else."

You hold his face between your thumb and forefingers, cheeks squishing under the pressure as you force a mint in. He lets you do it for some reason, looking lost as he gazes at you.

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh my, you're enjoying this. Pervert."

"Wha—what? You have to stop thinking you're hot shit, oh my god. I just got distracted for a bit."

"By me, right?"

"No! I just zoned ou—you're enjoying this."

You bite down your smile but a giggle escapes you anyway. Jaehyun rolls his eyes though he smiles, looking far too close to irresistible when his dimples show.

"You can't keep teasing me," he says, voice low.

"I've been doing it for two years. I'm pretty sure I can do it for at least two more."

Jaehyun scoffs, laughing at your statement. "You know what? I'm going to get back at you from now on. I've been so lenient."

You snort before pressing the back of your fingers to your nose. "You? You're going to get back at me? You’re good at lip service, Jaehyun."

“Huh. You might be right about that.”

There's a beat of silence and you look at him expectantly. In the next beat of your heart (or lack thereof), he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours, surprising the life out of you as your back hits the wall. It's not just a touch either, his mouth moves over yours and when your knees feel weak, you reluctantly admit that the rumour about Jung Yoonoh being a good kisser is true. Maybe his body count isn't a lower-end single digit after all.

He pulls apart with a short smile tugging at his lips. "Satisfied?"

You sputter out a response before clearing your throat. “I- I don’t think anyone really saw us in this corner.”

Jaehyun makes a low humming sound. “Or you could just say you want me to kiss you again? I know I’m a good kisser.”

“Fuck off.” You punch his chest, eliciting a quiet grunt from him.

You move away from him, peeking from behind the wall. Oh, she saw it alright. The giggling gives it away and the fact that a few more younger cousins have gathered. This is ridiculous. The fact that you wouldn’t mind more is even worse.

You turn back to Jaehyun with steel-set eyes. “No more kissing. Ever. Never again. Kissing is officially banned.”

Jaehyun looks perplexed. “I thought that was a good kiss. Did you not enjoy it? What do you mean no kissing?”

“And I take it back.” The heat on your face is still burning steadily.

“Oh, I see. You liked it so much that you’re embarrassed.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“So I’m right?”

You roll your eyes and quickly walk down the stairs, a few words of complaint left hanging in the air as Jaehyun follows behind, stumbling over the steps.

Jaehyun likes how comfortable this is. He doesn’t mind glaring daggers at each other but this is fun too. It’s like he doesn’t have to be careful about the lines he might be crossing—there aren’t any damn lines at all. He can’t call it love, at least not by definition, but something is there. Something that is solid enough and heavy enough. Something he would be ready to hold on to.

You laugh at a joke Jaehyun’s dad makes. A family is the only place to feel at home. It might not be yours but maybe at the end of the night, you can convince them to disown Jaehyun and adopt you as their child instead. His cousins seem to be interested in the same things you were as a high schooler and it surprised you. Your job lets you advise the older cousins in a fairly friendly fashion. The little ones seem to like your dress and you find them far too adorable with their pink cheeks and dimples, much like Jaehyun’s. Speaking of which, he definitely got them from his dad. You look around and wonder how Jaehyun has so many female cousins and not an inkling about how women work.

It doesn’t hurt anymore that Dongmin discarded you so recklessly.

He’s wrong. Jaehyun’s wrong. It doesn’t hurt—didn’t hurt right now at the very least. When Jaehyun kissed you, you didn’t think of Dongmin or his girlfriend or anyone else. You thought that Jaehyun’s skin is somehow always the right temperature.

You shake your head. Jaehyun drives your getaway car and you shouldn’t get too comfortable in its worn-out leather seats. This shouldn’t be any different to you; you aren’t supposed to find love in every corner. This was all a survival instinct.

The more stories Jaehyun’s mother shares with you over dinner, the more you find it comfortable to be here. You don’t feel this welcome in your own apartment (although, there isn’t exactly anyone else living there but you and the goddamn pigeon that wakes you up at six in the morning). The more the night progresses, the more you want to believe in this lie. Jaehyun glances at you from time to time, his gaze neither uncomfortable nor harsh and you smile at him when he does. Right now, there is no loneliness and the air is warm and smells of freshly cooked food; the way familial love works is such a mystery. You feel content.

“Why are we doing this again?” you lean in and ask Jaehyun, eyes focused on the TV as he tries to fix it.

“Because I need to get out of work, and fulfilled soulmates get a day off on Valentine’s day.”

You nod. “Your apartment kind of stinks. I feel sorry for Sicheng.”

“This is clean,” he defends, pointing at the lack of any visible mess in his room. His work table, however, has too many items scattered over it to be called neat. There’s a fairly large TV attached to the wall and you’re a little jealous about it. You only ever watch shows on your (quite beloved albeit small) laptop. The blinds aren’t fully closed, the evening city lights trying their best to pry their pervasive fingers in and add something more to the peach hue of Jaehyun’s room.

The doorbell rings just in estimated time for food delivery, a sigh leaving your mouth along with a ‘finally’. His place is strangely comfortable and much less of the war zone that you expected. There’s no reason to feel awkward, really, or even the bubbling in your stomach. You’re not seventeen, in your crush’s house. Jaehyun isn’t even someone you like that way.

It’s just two friends hanging out and watching a movie and doing other friendly activities. Two friends hanging out on Valentine's day. Two friends who have kissed more than once.

What do lovers do anyway?

This thing with Jaehyun has turned into clandestine smiles at the office building, subtle texts of ‘did you eat?’ and ‘good morning, idiot’, racing hearts at brushing hands on the occasional off-work hangouts (you refuse to call them “dates”) and overall, a lot more pink hearts floating over his head when you see him. It’s positively appalling.

You don’t mind it one bit.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” The delivery man wishes as he leaves and you feel a sudden rage bubble up in you.

“Ah, does he think every couple celebrates Valentine’s day? And just because we’re in the same apartment means we’re a couple? Wow.” You cross your arms, scoffing. “Who’s he to wish me?”

“Why… Why are you getting mad?” Jaehyun asks quietly, slightly confused.

You glare at him, your anger not quite dissipated and walk back into his room, placing the box of confectionaries on the bedside table with a loud thud. Jaehyun follows, placing the drinks rather clumsily beside it. He gives you one last look of concern before settling down on his bed.

You let out another huff of complaint.

"Does everything have to be heart-shaped?"

You stare at the nauseating display of baked goods delivered in a pretty heart-shaped box. The brownie is in a clear plastic box that has a tiny bouquet of hearts atop it, the coffee cups have heart stickers around the rim, and the pastry itself is heart-shaped or rather, two halves of a heart. One of them is strawberry pink and the other chocolate brown.

“You seem… suddenly fired up,” Jaehyun comments quietly.

You don’t really care if you look crazy to him right now; he’s already seen the worse parts of you. You’re just so annoyed at all this red and pink that was delivered. Aren’t cafes supposed to stick with that beige-cream palette?

While you contemplate, Jaehyun tears the little sugar packet and attempts to open the lid of the cup at the same time, your blood pressure rising at the sight because you were half sure he’d spill the drink. After much difficulty, he shakes the packet trying to get just enough sugar but of course, like the clumsy oaf he is, he misses almost entirely, spilling sugar over his coffee table. It’s oddly endearing but that’s a thought you’ll keep to yourself.

He turns to you with a sheepish grin and you give him a look of distaste.

“You are a sorry excuse of a person, Jaehyun.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t mess this up.”

You turn to look him in the eyes, the honey shade alluring under warm apartment lights. They really are pretty.

“I, and every other sane human being, would not mess up adding sugar to a cup of coffee.”

“You faltered for a moment there.”

That was not the reason you faltered. You roll your eyes and look away, taking a sip of your drink and sighing at the taste.

“How do you even like Americanos? Don’t you like a bit of cream and sweetness?”

“I don’t really care for bitterness,” he answers.

“Wow, you must be a masochist.”

“And it’s quite obvious you’re a sadist.”

You snicker. “That makes us quite the pair.”

“I would like that sentence in a non-BDSM context, thank you.”

Jaehyun turns on the TV and the Netflix logo animation pops up. You raise an eyebrow at his ‘Continue Watching’ list, eyeing Bridegerton and Sweet Home, and wondering if he could be any more of an enigma. You can’t possibly figure him out at this point. You groan when he picks a title.

“Ugh. Do we have to watch a romantic comedy?”

“What? They’re funny. And I thought you liked those 2000’s movies.”

You believed in unicorns and sock goblins and love back then too. These days, you hate to see other people in love, especially when it’s fake. The movies you loved are now the movies you hate. The couples you eyed with delight at parks and cafes are now the bane of your existence. In fact, you’d go as far as to say that you enjoy the digital fireworks from a couple having a massive online breakup. Things falling apart are entertaining when it’s not happening to you.

You purse your lips. Can't you see other people happy without wanting to tear it down for yourself?

“Fine. But I’ll pick the 2000’s romcom.”

Jaehyun shrugs and hands over the remote. You see Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds on the poster and click on it immediately. The Proposal has a good enough comedy to romance ratio, in your opinion.

“I’m kind of surprised you came,” he says quietly.

“Why?” You raise an eyebrow. “Is it because of the suggestive nature of visiting someone’s apartment on Valentine’s day? Did you think we’d be doing something… more fun?”

You lean in and bat your eyelashes suggestively, although you’re clearly joking.

“I think you should know better than to get mouthy with me,” he answers as he leans in further, making your heartbeat hike at the proximity. Maybe he’s figured you out. Wouldn’t it be so nice to figure each other out at the same time—like puzzle pieces fitting together?

You move away from him. “Well, it’s not like I can go anywhere else. And I didn’t want to stay in my own apartment.”

“Maybe you enjoy my company?”

“Look, I would be sipping my coffee at a perfectly aesthetic cafe if it weren’t Valentine’s day.”

He raises an eyebrow at your nonsensical declaration and you sigh, trying to explain yourself.

“Cafes just terrorize the single folk on Valentine’s day. You should always go with Netflix,” you say.

“And chill?”

“Do you even know what that means?”

“As I’ve told you so many times, I am not stupid.”

You inhale, an idea presenting itself.

“Hey, since we’re technically a couple, shouldn’t you be sharing your Netflix password with me?” you ask, pressing your lips into your cutest smile.

“No.”

“You’re so stingy,” you mutter. It was worth a shot.

Jaehyun laughs, your hand reaching out to poke his dimples but you stop yourself. You weren’t supposed to get this comfortable. This wasn’t your place to be. Lost in thought, the moving screen leaves you unfazed and you can’t look at him anymore. However, Jaehyun reaches out right then and wipes at the space beside your lips, your focus lifting from the beginning scenes of The Proposal and latching onto Jaehyun’s lips.

There’s a pause, your head clearing itself of thoughts when you make eye contact with him. Soft hair, doe eyes, full lips and dimples—he’s so damn attractive, it hurts your existence. Does he have to be this close to you? You have mixed feelings about that look in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers suddenly.

“Yes,” you answer.

If you look from a rational point of view, you should not have said that. You should have said anything but that. But you don’t want to think right now. Jaehyun’s touch is warm over your skin as his hand rests under your jaw and the other on your waist.

You should not have said that. But you feel loved.

Somewhere along, you find yourself parting only to kiss again, the feeling of skin so delightful in a way you’ve never experienced. Your shirt hikes up and you see Jaehyun eye the little heart with the arrow—the sign you so despised with a gentle smile.

“It’s pretty,” he whispers.

It’s pretty but it isn’t his. He doesn’t have to look at you like that—he’s come a long way from nervous glances and now he’s the one making you nervous. Just say it isn’t love and it will be alright.

You part, sobering up for a moment and you disentangle your limbs to sit at the side of his bed.

“What’s- What’s wrong?” Jaehyun whispers.

You exhale.

“All my life, I wait and when it comes, it’s all wrong,” you say, staring at your lap. Self-pity is the most disgusting kind of pity to feel. You’re past crying at things like this. You’re past crying for an ounce of romance, every time you listen to a love song on the radio or look at an Instagram post of a couple or pass by lovers on the sidewalk content with each other. You don’t even have cats to return home to. Modern loneliness is wearing you down but you can’t believe in fairytales anymore.

He scoffs, smiling bitterly. “I don’t even know if this is worth losing my dignity over.”

“Jaehyun—”

“We can’t pretend anymore—I can’t pretend anymore,” Jaehyun exhales. “I want you enough to forget the system. Give me an answer. Please.”

You don’t mind forgetting the system right now. Jaehyun’s lips are always the right temperature; the warmth of his body seeps through his shirt as you press yourself to him in a hug. He’s perfect and right now, you want to believe he’s perfect for you—even if he isn’t, you want to believe it into existence.

You cup Jaehyun’s cheeks, unsaid emotion in his doe eyes, and kiss him. This time, you mean it with every ounce of your being. There’s no more flustering each other, just the hot flush of intimacy when you feel skin that doesn’t burn you. It’s just the right feeling. There’s no way this can be wrong.

Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? You wish the voice would pipe down. It’s a coward, fearing fate just as everyone else does. But you are better than that, and this feeling is too enjoyable to let go. You don’t want this to fade.

Just then, Dongmin’s face comes to mind and you think that maybe if you kiss someone else with all you have, you don’t have to think of your shortcomings ever again.

Jaehyun pulls apart and you miss the warmth.

“You’re not… You’re not thinking of me, are you?” he asks.

You don’t answer, even if the silence is overwhelming.

“I’d rather not have you close your eyes and think of someone else when I’m in front of you.”

“I’m sorry” is all you can say.

“You can at least pretend to love me.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. “Could. It’s not like this was ever supposed to work out.”

You gulp, looking away. “Jaehyun, come on. That’s not like you. We were- we were just… having fun.”

He takes a deep breath. “It hurts to not be wanted by someone you want. You know that. So why are you doing this to me?”

Because misery likes company.

“I’m sorry.”

It seems the phrase you barely uttered when you were younger is tumbling out of your lips in a mixture of grief and pity. Perhaps it’s karma. Perhaps it’s fate. Perhaps it’s just the consequences of your mistakes.

Jaehyun parts his lips, a sigh departing. He leans in again, pushing away all of his thoughts. A little more hurt won't kill him tonight. How and when did you bring him down to his knees?

However, he's stopped by your hands against his shoulders, his lips hovering over yours.

"Let's stop," you say. "You're right."

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

“I don’t- I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”

You wish you could be brave enough to burn the instruction pamphlet from destiny. But right now, you need to get away from Jaehyun, away from any more misery business.

“I’ll get going,” you say, gathering your stuff.

Jaehyun hesitates but doesn’t stop you. He would never stop you, can’t stop so how could he even dream of stopping fate? This can never work out. It felt right in the moment but you don’t know anything more than that. You can’t close your eyes and pray everything disappears. No one else will solve your problems for you, you know that.

It’s time you start fixing the mess you made. You leave with a polite goodbye and hear a loud sigh behind you once the door is closed. Blinking away the urge to walk back in, you take long and quick strides to the elevator. You’re going to fix this.

Maybe if Lady Gaga’s ‘Poker Face’ wasn’t blasting at full volume at this stupid office party, you could be thinking a little straighter.

He was right. You can’t pretend anymore. There were thousands of ways this could have gone better. You didn’t have to pretend to be soulmates when you’re not. You could’ve discarded your belief in the whole system like Dongmin and Mijoo and dated someone out of spite. You didn’t have to drag Jaehyun into your sorry mess. You need to take out the nail you hammered into your own foot.

It’s the first time you’ve visited the rooftop restaurant from the company’s subsidiary chain of high-end restaurants but you imagined it would be bigger. It’s the news’ fault for making this place seem like a football field. However, you might be feeling that way because the distance between you and Jaehyun is suffocatingly small as is the distance with Dongmin. You don’t need to see Jaehyun tonight.

You don’t intend to make your confession a public affair and you certainly don’t believe in tack things like atonement. However, improvement begins with a step in the right direction. Maybe you’ll be a better person after this. Maybe you’ll still be as annoying and pushy as ever. You need to get it off your chest so you can proceed with the already tedious journey that comes with a soulmate rejection. You wonder why there’s so many man-made laws about soulmates when fate has made it complicated enough as it is. Love is the same as legalese when it comes to this system.

You flit about the crowds, smiling and greeting people and swerving away from Jaehyun every time he tries to approach you. You’re trying to make a good decision for once. He better not intrude. You’re wearing pink too, for the first time in a while: a satin shirt, pants and blazer set in dull pink.

“Dongmin,” you say, pulling him by the sleeve of his blue tux, and away from the rest of the HR team. “I have to show you something.”

“Hm? Show me?” He blinks at you.

You get him to follow you to the inside the premises, stopping when you’re far into a

“Uh?” Dongmin looks around before leaning in to whisper. “You’re not plotting to murder me, are you?”

You blink, and he laughs at you incredulously. “Why are you so serious?”

“I was lying,” you rush. “With Jaehyun. He’s not my soulmate. You are.”

Dongmin blinks in confusion. “Are… you joking? That was a weird joke but it could pass as funny—”

“Dongmin.”

You pull out your shirt from your pants, exposing the tattoo on your hip. It’s the little arrowed heart that has been plaguing you for years but now when you look at it, you feel no animosity. After all, it’s been through the same things you have.

Dongmin’s face falls into stunned silence, eyes fixated on your waist.

“That’s- That’s my—what is this?”

Russian roulette is certainly not the same without a gun.

“I lied, Dongmin,” you answer, fixing your shirt back in. “I was so afraid of your rejection that I made an even larger fool of myself.”

His initial shock seems to have partly subsided.

“You… Why didn’t you tell me?” He looks momentarily hurt.

“You have Mijoo, Dongmin. I can’t ruin something like that.”

A love that doesn’t need fate to fix it.

Dongmin glances away in guilt and sighs, though the sound is croaky. This must be more than what he can take.

“I’m sorry,” he says, haltingly. “I hurt you, didn’t I? When I thought I was being brave, I hurt you instead.”

You smile bitterly. “We all hurt someone, Dongmin. I still have to fix that one for myself.”

He scans your face, lips trembling slightly as unspoken words die on them.

“We’ll tend to the legal stuff later, hm? No compensation. We can file a mutual rejection.”

“But—”

“Shh. I’m happy enough as coworkers and I get paid more than enough for this job. Might get a promotion soon too.”

You wink at him with an added finger gun, trying to play it cool. Despite everything, a weight feels lifted from your shoulders. Now that you are truly alone, you might as well embrace this growing loneliness crawling under your skin. Discomfort could be something you can get used to.

When you get back to the warmly lit rooftop, the HR team looks at you curiously. You have the most self-destructive thought you’ve had in a while and tell yourself, you might as well if you've come this far. This is it. This is your social death. Honesty is the best policy, unfortunately.

“Dongmin and I have the same soulmate mark,” you announce. “We’re soulmates but we’ll sign a mutual rejection.”

Doyoung looks almost like he’ll faint and Soojin’s mouth is so wide open, you could practice throwing some mini basketballs in. This is your team—almost a second family, and it’s time you stop trying to hide yourself or disguise your feelings as something they’re not. They’ll get over it, as will you.

“J-Jaehyun?” Soojin looks to your side and you turn to find Jaehyun frowning.

“You could’ve discussed this with me,” he says, an odd sound of relief in his laugh.

It hurts to look at him but you muster up your strength.

“I’m sorry,” you say, facing him. “I didn’t want to drag you into this hell with me.”

Into this loveless hell made for you.

“(name).”

It’s so painfully quiet in this corner; there are so many eyes on you and only the hurt taking shape in Jaehyun’s eyes knock some sense into you.

“I’ll leave first,” you say, bowing as you take your leave.

You brisk up your pace and exit the venue as quickly as you can and into the building corridor.

Unfortunately for you, you recognize the pair of footsteps that follow you—both of them having their timings wrong. Boys don’t chase after the girl when she’s walking away. Boys should leave a girl alone when she feels like she’s about to cry.

You turn to face two men and groan internally. This is the worst possible situation—you’d rather crawl into a hole than look at either of them. The corporate light shines harshly on either of their faces but the look on them is so earnest, you want to close your eyes and scream. You don’t mind being alone. You were overstepping when you wished you weren’t.

“(name),” Dongmin starts. “I’m sorry it turned out this way. If you’d told me, we could have talked this out.”

A light scoff leaves Jaehyun and Dongmin purses his lips. It’s kind of funny watching both of their tall frames in hesitant postures and you cross your arms. You’re going to deal with this quickly like you always should have. If you’re dealing with fate, you need to have a clear head—and fortune doesn’t favour fools. Being with Jaehyun was nice but he is not yours. Dongmin may have been assigned to you but you’d rather not ruin someone’s relationship.

“What would we have talked about?” you ask. “Compensation charges? Apologies?”

You see a hint of positivity on Jaehyun’s face and turn to face him, frowning.

“And you. Don’t look so smug. You’re the reason I realized this crap. It hurts. Like hell.”

He opens his mouth but no words come when he’s far too taken aback. He can’t offer consolation now, not after everything. You knew this would happen. You would undoubtedly end up wishing you didn’t fall in love with him on the day you leave.

“(name). Listen to me,” Dongmin calls again, voice gentle.

Jaehyun sighs. “We’re both fucking this up, dude.”

Dongmin takes a sharp breath.

“You know, soulmates can be platonic,” he reasons, looking only at you. “People are made for each other differently and maybe you and I—”

“You’re just making her feel worse,” Jaehyun cuts him off.

“How do you know that?” Dongmin asks, finally turning to him. “Because you’ve spent a month or two with her? I’m her soulmate.”

“I think a month or two is much better than a stranger with the same damn birthmark.”

“Oh come on,” Dongmin scoffs. “The system exists for a reason.”

“I don’t give a shit about the system. The same as your girlfriend—oh, sorry, did you forget about her already?”

“It’s not like that.” Dongmin quietens. “We’ll figure something out.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. They’re worse than you are—honestly, you don’t know what you expected from the timid emotional maturity of men. Both of their polite facades have melted and you’re starting to miss their sweet-tempered work demeanour.

“Come with me,” Dongmin tells you.

He wraps his hand around your wrist and tugs, Jaehyun visibly tensing up at the gesture. He presses his tongue against his cheek in annoyance but refrains from doing anything rash. You feel sorry when you look at him.

“Dongmin,” you whisper. “Can we- can we have a moment?”

Dongmin nods in understanding and exits the hallway to cool off with a few splashes of water in the washroom.

“Would you go with him?” Jaehyun asks, jaw clenched. “An acquaintance as most? Are you willing to run into the arms of fate that you hated so much?”

He looks bitter and you can’t think of a sugar-coated response. You’ll just have to tell him how you feel.

“I need to sort things out, Jaehyun. This—”

You point from him to yourself.

“Couldn’t work out thanks to fate. Dongmin and I will never work out because he’s braver than I am. You know he’s doing all of that just so I don’t get hurt, right? He’s not suddenly in love with me.”

Jaehyun purses his lips, looking down to his feet. Is it so bad that he let jealousy get the best of his mouth? Envy isn’t so awful. He looks from your eyes to lips and wishes he were young enough to believe in fairytales.

“You don’t have to be brave,” he whispers. “You don’t have to be so brave to fall in love. You don’t have to be brave to stay with me.”

“We tried, Jaehyun. And we can’t cheat fate. That, at the very least, requires bravery.”

You press your lips into a thin line. It hurts. It hurts so bad to look at him and face the consequences of this flawed design. It’s unfair. It’s unfair that you have to follow the rules even after trying your best to break them.

“You wish you never met me, don’t you?” you whisper. “I made a mess.”

Before he responds, you bow in a short goodbye and walk towards the elevator. There’s no footsteps behind you, no Prince Charming. It’s just you and your high heels clacking against the cold marble as you head back to an empty home. You always thought freedom would feel different, that distance would give you perspective. It just feels awful when no one is around you at all. When you have no one to pick up morning calls from, receive texts from asking if you ate, spend time in peace without uttering a single word—are you free or are you lonely?

The rules state that the two of you are different. It is true. You are as different as love in real life and love in the movies; and neither of them have happy endings now.

You wish you drank some more last night if you were going to embarrass yourself like that. Thankfully, it’s the weekend and you have two more days to figure out how to face your coworkers. You frown when you think of Jaehyun. Were you wrong to tell him that you simply couldn’t choose him? What if fate is right and it falls apart? You stir your morning coffee, the will to drink it fading slowly. It’s already fallen apart—and it wasn’t fate who did that, it was you. Should you have taken his stupidly warm hands and asked him to follow you? You don’t understand how it works at all.

Centuries of questioning what love is, poking and prodding at it like a lab sample, and there’s still no perfect answer. Love is blind. Love is cruel. Love is a fever. Love is temporary insanity. Love is acceptance. Love will set you free. There’s just too many variations. You can never tell if fate is meant to make it easier or worse.

No one questions you at the office and you're not sure if you’re glad or aggravated. Only Doyoung shoots you a pitiful look which you brush off and immediately get into work. Embarrassment is only real if you acknowledge it. However, every time Dongmin tries to talk to you, you ask for space and even alone in your thoughts, you don’t get it. They just have to drift to Jaehyun.

You wonder if what he said was true, that he wanted you enough to forget the system. It’s clearly ruined now. The spiral of thinking has you zoning out during work more often than not and even Doyoung ends up reprimanding you for your lack of focus. Sometimes you want to snap but other times, you’re just hopelessly reciting the events over and over in your head. This was supposed to happen, wasn’t it? You don’t even have the strength left in you to blame it all on Jaehyun.

You pace in the corridors after work, contemplating popping by the Marketing Department. What could go wrong? Sure, it was a little dramatic of you to leave like that but everything can be fixed, right? You groan. What you were supposed to be fixing, you made worse. Are your hands cursed or something? You shake your head, returning to your desk to gather your belongings and head home.

Unfortunately, the sight of Doyoung sitting in your chair alarms you and you stop a foot away.

“If you’re going to reprimand me for watching cat videos instead of checking the employee records, I can assure you my efficiency is still top-notch.”

“You’re—what? Never mind.” Doyoung shakes his head. “Can you give this ginseng pack to Jaehyun? I owe him.”

Oh no. You know where this is going.

“You know I’m going to keep that for myself, right?” You make a face. “I’d rather die than face Jaehyun right now.”

Doyoung shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll be the one running to you. This is in case of an emergency.”

You give him a fake smile and Doyoung shakes his head. “Good to see you’re still great at pretending to be fine.”

You sigh. “Thanks for looking out for me, bossman.”

Doyoung blinks, hand covering his mouth when an audible gasp leaves him. “Woah. I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you thank me. But don’t call me bossman ever again.”

“Noted,” you say, taking your bag and leaving with a short goodbye. You’re lucky he lets you off work early, even if you never took it. Employees usually can’t leave until their superiors does and if you were a senior employee, you’d be giving your juniors quite the hell.

You seem to be good at concocting hellscapes. Perhaps, you should look for job openings in the underworld. One last thought of Jaehyun exits your head and you take the bus home, admiring the city you live in and the warmth of people and their relationships. You don’t feel jealous; you just bask in them for the time—be it a mother and her son or two bickering sisters or a lovely old couple. That’s how it’s meant to be, then. That’s how love works.

Jaehyun smacks his head against the sofa armrest for the fifteenth time in a row.

“Dude. You’re going to permanently ruin the fabric.” Sicheng says, eyes trained on his laptop screen.

“I should’ve said something more.” Jaehyun’s voice is so zombie-like, he thinks he should cast himself in the Train to Busan sequel as an extra.

“I’m glad I’m not you,” Sicheng mutters.

“Can you give me some sort of consolation, at least?”

“That’s not what I’m your friend for.”

Jaehyun sighs and resumes smacking the back of his head against the armrest. He really needs to figure this out. After all, he can’t really Google the solution to this.

“One thing doesn’t make sense,” Sicheng says, finally looking up from his screen. “Why do you have the same mark as (name)’s if you’re not soulmates?”

“You’re so incredibly—but adorably—stupid, Sicheng. She drew it in with a permanent marker. She kissed me too! It was sudden and weird but I didn’t mind it.

“Yikes.” Sicheng makes a face. “So… you didn’t take a shower for how long now?”

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“The ink hasn’t washed off. I heard you singing in the shower yesterday, how could you not have washed that off? Ugh. Don’t tell me you miss her.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen as he jumps up and rushes to the washroom. Looking into the mirror, the tattoo poking out from his T-shirt resembles yours a lot more than his. The arrow is still drawn in. Jaehyun’s shoulder slumps. He doesn’t know what he was expecting. Turning the tap and letting the water flow, he wets his hand and rubs at his collarbone to remove the arrow.

Except it doesn’t budge. His skin turns painfully red from the rubbing but the ink, which usually washes off in less than five minutes has no intention of leaving. Did you use a different brand of marker the last time? When was it anyway?

Jaehyun breathes out, firming his resolve. He needs to be with you.

Sicheng blinks in surprise as Jaehyun grabs his car keys, not even bothering to change from an all-black getup of a T-shirt and jeans like some emo teenager, and shuts the front door behind him. Not even a ‘goodbye, I’m leaving!’

Sicheng sighs. Love makes people crazy. He’s not falling into that trap when his soulmate literally doesn’t exist, the same as his soulmark. It seems the contestants in this game are full of exceptions.

You hit your head against your pillow. To visit Jaehyun or not to. You haven’t left your bed since you woke up around seven in the morning, and now it’s ten. Your bedsheets are a mess because you’ve rolled around too much on them (in despair, not with someone unfortunately).

You need the quiet sometimes to let your mind rest, to let your heart rest. You needed time. But maybe it’s been long enough and now you’re just searching for excuses to hold on to your last shred of dignity.

You lift your head up and glare at the box of ginseng on your table. Should you? You reluctantly get up, feeling a sting of pain in your back for lying in that awkward position for so long. Right when you’ve put on your slippers, the doorbell rings and you groan. How did the package you stress-ordered last night arrive so early? These deliveries are getting faster and faster.

You walk to the front door and open it thoughtlessly, freezing up at the sight. Your first reaction is to cover yourself. You’re not exactly your best-looking version at the moment. Jaehyun’s dark circles almost match yours but he’s better dressed than you are—in a black T-shirt and jeans while you’re wearing a Gudetama pajama set.

“We’re not just friends,” he blurts. “We’re not soulmates but we’re not just friends.”

“Huh? Oh my god, this is the most embarrassing I’ve looked.”

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows in a question look.

“That’s not important! Look—”

He pushes you inside, closing the door behind him. His hair is so disheveled and messy, he barely even looks like the same well-maintained marketing employee you know.

Jaehyun tugs at his T-shirt, pulling down to reveal his tattoo—albeit with your marker-drawn arrow through it. He does have a pretty well-built chest, you note before chiding yourself for getting distracted.

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you, uh, need help scrubbing it off or something?”

“No.” Jaehyun lets out a huff of exasperation. “It won’t wash off. If it’s what I think it is—”

“Miracles don’t happen to people like us, Jaehyun,” you say quietly.

He gulps. “I don’t know about miracles but… I just needed an excuse to see you, I guess.”

You look up, a rose blush over Jaehyun’s bare face, and run your finger over the tattoo, sighing at the warmth of his skin. Your hand travels up to his cheek, resting atop it while you muster enough courage to look Jaehyun in his chocolate brown eyes.

You pull away. This isn’t the time. You still have an internal crisis to sort out. Are you even deserving of love? It makes much more sense if the answer is no.

However, Jaehyun pulls you in by the waist, his right palm warm against your cheek.

“I don’t care what anyone says.” He runs his thumb over your cheek in a painfully fond manner. “You’re worth more than the price I pay for this.”

He leans in and presses his lips to yours swiftly, your head clearing of thoughts almost immediately. It feels so right, you can feel the spark, the red thread around your skin, hear the bells. This kiss was far more perfect than it was supposed to be.

You part, gasping. Jaehyun blinks at you, breathing heavily.

“Kiss me again.”

Jaehyun does as told and you might just believe in miracles this way. With his hand around your waist and in your hair, his lips over yours and the low rumbling laughter that parts the two of you—you might just believe in miracles. You might just believe that love isn't something you deserve by earning.

“I like this,” Jaehyun comments. “I like the way this is.”

You press your finger to his lips. “I think you should shut up and kiss me some more.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “I know you’re sexually repressed as of now, but that’s no reason to take advantage of me.”

You scowl, punching him on the shoulder and moving away from him.

“Come back,” he complains in a quiet voice.

“I am not going to do that.” You cross your arms.

“Come on,” he mutters, inching closer as you inch away, till your back hits the couch and you tumble backwards onto it, your legs on the headrest. Jaehyun laughs at your position, leaning in to keep his hands on either side of you, a doting look over him.

“Hey, did you know if I kicked my leg up, it would hit you in the balls?”

“Please don’t do that.”

You giggle, Jaehyun’s nose rubbing against yours in a bunny kiss.

“Is your place usually this much of a mess?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

You sigh heavily. “I was having a bad day, okay? Or… a bad weekend.”

“Do you even have food?”

You look away, crossing your arms. Jaehyun sighs and shakes his head.

“We should go grocery shopping. How do you live like this?”

You scoff. “Oh, spare me the lecture. I’ve heard enough horror stories about your room from Sicheng. You can’t hide from me by sweeping your clothes and belongings into his room.”

“Snitch,” he mutters under his breath.

You can’t help the giggle that erupts from your mouth and you immediately cover it. Jaehyun smiles at you fondly and you look away, unable to bear that gaze of his.

“It really won’t wash off, by the way,” Jaehyun states, scratching at his collarbone.

You narrow your eyes, smacking his arms away to roll off the couch. Taking his wrist, you walk into your bathroom and turn the tap on. Something’s strange. But also strangely right.

“Look, I already tried—ow! Don’t rub that hard!”

You blink in confusion, trying again despite Jaehyun looking like his soul already left him. It doesn’t work. Your marker isn’t even that permanent. At least his regenerating skin cells should get rid of that arrow. Unless the ink was deep enough to pierce all the layers, as in a soulmark.

You gasp.

“You were right!”

“I told you s—”

"That's the point, isn't it?" you say, realization dawning as your eyes widen. "To see if people will question the system at all."

Jaehyun shrugs. “Maybe.”

"Oh, all those unhappy marriages that could have been saved," you say as you exhale.

Jaehyun chuckles lightly. "I think that the point was, people can be happy without their soulmates. It's whoever you make one out of. Or I Googled too many articles on anti-soulmate propaganda."

You smile, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek. Watching his ears turn bright red is the cherry on top.

“Okay, fake-boyfriend-turned-real-soulmate.” You give him a cheeky smile. “Did you rethink your decision about sharing that Netflix password with me? I get the girlfriend free pass, right? Right?”

“I didn’t even share it with my mother.”

You whack his arm, him possibly used to it by now, judging from his lack of response.

“Idiot.” You cross your arms. “We can Netflix… and chill then. God, I can’t believe I said that.”

Jaehyun breaks into a chuckle. “You’re so pushy.”

“And you like being pushed around, nerd.”

“Who said that?”

Jaehyun wraps his arms around you, spinning you so that your back hits the door. He leans in to kiss you again and you smack your palm over his pouted lips. You laugh at his face, his eyes brimming with confusion.

“You’re in my apartment. I make the rules here. Think twice before you start a game with me, Mister.”

His shoulders droop. “Fine. Can you at least let me kiss you four times a day?”

“Five times, if you ask.”

He laughs before leaning in again. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“You are one hell of a woman. Emphasis on hell.”

You laugh and grab his collar, pulling him in for the kiss that seals this deal.

You realize a few things in the moment: a) You don’t have to play roulette to find love, b) You don’t have to pick your poison to find love, and most importantly c) Love is right where you make something of it. Fate is still not in your good books but if it bends to you this way, you don’t mind at all. If Jaehyun kisses you like this every day, you don’t mind one bit.

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